siravalondulac

[siravalondulac]

SILVER LIGHTS [ONE]

jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon gets a call rating: explicit wc: 1558

masterlist

The phone rings.

Jon decides this will be the last for tonight. He has already had two orgasms, his first lecture tomorrow starts at eight, and he has earned enough tonight to pay for proper meals for a week.

He adjusts his position on his bed before he picks up.

“Hey. What can I help you with?”

His voice automatically drops, becomes darker and huskier, and he makes sure to speak as slowly as possible. Most of his clients seem to like it.

Silence on the other end.

That's nothing new - the concept of a sex hotline seemed intimidating even to him in the beginning, and even more so when he called to apply for a job. Around half of his customers need to be eased into the experience, and around ten per cent disconnect the call within the first minute.

“I assume you called for a reason.” He makes sure his smile is audible in his voice. “Care to tell me what it is?”

Silence again. Then-

“H-Hey.”

A woman, and a young one as well, likely around his age.

That's a first.

“Hey there,” he repeats. “So, what can I do for you?”

There are strange sounds coming from her end, something akin to wind and fabric being rustled, leading him to believe she is standing outside.

“Talk,” she whispers. “Just talk, and don't stop.”

At least that he is used to. Despite the enormous prices - 100 bucks for an hour, from which he gets half - some people don't even call for sex. They're just lonely.

“Is there something you want to hear in particular?” he asks. “Or shall I choose?”

After a few moments, she says, as quietly as before, “Tell me what you are doing right now. And where you are.”

He smiles, trying to let a bit of confidence seep into his voice. It seems like she needs that.

“I am in the bedroom of my apartment, lying naked on my bed and staring at the ceiling above. It's cold in here because I cannot truly afford to have the radiator running the entire time, but I have learned to live with it. And, I mean, if I truly want to warm myself up I can simply masturbate. I have found it helps quite well.”

Perhaps he shouldn't - this woman doesn't seem all that interested in sex right now - but he truly is in the mood for another orgasm. And if he has to gently talk her into giving him one then so be it.

“I am also talking to a beautiful woman right now,” he adds with a grin.

“I get that a lot.” Her voice is so quiet he has trouble understanding it.

“That you're beautiful?” He lays his free hand on his stomach. “Then it must be true.”

“I suppose.”

“You don’t seem all that excited. Do you not agree with people’s opinions?”

“It’s all anyone says about me. That my eyes are pretty. That my hair looks great. That I am a natural beauty and should stop hiding away. They don’t even want to talk about anything else.”

If she can repeat all that with such ease, then her looks must truly be out of this world. A natural beauty - meaning no operations or other bodily modifications. Which, if he is correct about her age, isn’t all too surprising, yet at least gives him some things to work with when imagining who he is talking to.

(If his callers give him no indication of their looks, he simply imagines either of his exes - Ygritte if he's talking to a woman, Satin if it's a man.)

“Then what do you want to talk about?” he asks, slowly starting to trace his thigh, edging dangerously close to his dick.

Silence on her side for the longest time. Then she says quietly, “That's the problem, I can't think of anything.”

“Let's start with something easy. What are you wearing?”

“Just- Just my nightdress. Nothing special.”

“Like the ones grandmas wear?” He chuckles.

“No. It's black and a bit too short for my taste, but… It's comfortable.” She hesitates before adding, “It looks ridiculous with a pair of socks.”

Oh, so it is that kind of dress. Satin, lace, likely something akin to lingerie, hanging low off her shoulders and revealing half of her chest.

He quickly grabs his dick and squeezes its base.

“I bet the combination looks really cute on you,” he says.

“If you say so.”

“Uh-hu.” His hand starts to slowly trace the veins along his cock, and he has to bit his lip to hide a groan. “Men must throw themselves at you.”

While she hesitates with her answer, his fingers start fumbling with the bottle of lube, eventually managing to open it and spreading a bit of the liquid onto his half-hard dick - it's luckily still wet from his previous rounds.

“I don't think they would.” There is once again a strange swooshing and rustling coming from her end of the phone. “I'm something to be stared at, not something to… want. To keep.”

“I would want you,” he quickly says, starting to jerk off. “The moment I see you, I would press you against the nearest wall and kiss you until you lose your breath and your mind and any sense of reality. I would make sure you are mine, and that you remember that any time someone makes you feel insecure.”

She has never indicated she would want this, but Jon knows. No one that is happy with the way their personal life is going would call a bloody sex hotline. They're all either lonely or broken up with or stood up or deeply insecure in their own body. They want someone to tell them they are desirable. They all do.

“Really?” she whispers.

What was supposed to be a yes comes out as a groan when he suddenly twists his hand on his dick.

“Would you like it if I ate you out where anyone could see you? Where I would prove to anyone that ignoring you was the biggest mistake they ever made?” By now, there is no hiding the debauchery going on on his side of the phone. “Or would you prefer something quiet? A relaxing bath, me slowly sliding into you, marking up your neck to stake my claim on you?”

He pants heavily now, his hips bucking off the bed and meeting his fist half-way, pre cum leaking from his tip, quickly disappearing into the crazed motions.

What would she do, were she to see him now?

“No one would want me afterwards,” she says, seemingly ignoring the sounds of his mindless fucking.

“Good.” He moans. “You're mine. I can't let anyone think they ever had a chance with you.”

All he hears are her quick breaths, the wind blowing past her phone speakers, and the squelch of his hand as he chases his orgasm.

“My life would be too much for you,” she finally whispers again. Why is she always whispering? “You'd run away after a day.”

“And abandon you? Not a chance.”

Jon already feels his release approaching - the twitching and throbbing of his dick a familiar sensation - and he is grateful to finally be able to go to sleep once this is over. He likes the sound of the woman's voice, but her depressive demeanour is bringing even him down.

His moans rise to such a level that he almost overhears her question.

“What's your name?”

“Jon.” His heartbeat pulses underneath his fingers. “What's yours? Plea- Please, I have to know.”

He plants his feet on the mattress to force his hips up with ever harder and meaner thrusts, a whine almost passing his lips as his thumb presses into his tip. So close, so close, just a moment longer-

“Cerelle.”

Perfect.

The moan he lets out as he spills all over his hand is far louder than natural, and he really, really hopes his neighbours are already dead asleep. But it needed to be - she needed to think it was her fault he came harder than he has in weeks.

(He didn't, but she doesn't need to know that.)

“Wow, that was…” His hand is still sticky, and he hopes his voice isn't all too rough. “Thank you, Cerelle. That was amazing.”

She doesn't say anything, but doesn't disconnect the call either.

“Would you like me to return the favour?”

A beeping.

Rude.

He rolls his eyes as he tosses the phone onto his bed stand and goes about cleaning up the mess of the previous five hours.

400 bucks is truly not bad for a single night, and considering it's the only day he has time to work this week, he considers this appropriate compensation.

Cerelle will come back, of that he is certain. She seemed far too desperate, far too caught up in his fake pleasantries not to get addicted. They always do. And when they call again, they will ask specifically for him, never leaving him without a customer.

They're all the same.

Cerelle. What a strange name. He feels he has heard it somewhere before.

It's probably nothing.

Far, far away from the city, hidden deep within an endless forest where neither man nor animal could ever hope to escape from, she takes a step away from the edge of the roof.

[siravalondulac]

8 + cerelle

8. Your OC needs a one liner. What reaction pic, gif or meme are you using?

[siravalondulac]

Describe your OC when they're drunk. Use an image/gif/meme.

For all of your ocs 😎

alright i deserve that

cerelle

benjiamin vypren

humfrey hightower

lucion lannister

helena terrick

zima rivers

harry rivers

rania waters (if ykyk)

henrix

lelia lydden

constance serrett

florian penfenics

[siravalondulac]

i love this so so much, you have no idea!

i'm just imagining cerelle and tara having a nice conversation, slowly learning more about each other, maybe already becoming somewhat friends, and then balon and ethan just having a silent stare down behind them.

i'd actually think ethan would be pretty quick to accuse balon of being in love with cerelle, but his reasoning would be soo off, it's insane. like he can't even imagine being loyal to someone without falling for them, and he thinks balon even looking at cerelle is proof of him already breaking his vows. which is like??? ethan took the wrong path but ended up at the correct conclusion.

poor balon being stuck with him lmao. i think they'll either commit a coup or burn down the tower of the hand, no inbetween.

and lmao, the image of a modern au date between them is so funny. especially if cerelle and balon are already in love with each other and maybe having kissed once, but are very invested in no one finding out, but here comes ethan just accusing them of shit again. either bc he wants to annoy balon (he just dislikes him point blank) or bc he once again severely misidentified the signals yet reached the right conclusion again. i just know ethan and balon would take constant semi-hidden jabs at each other during dinner.

tara and cerelle eventually leave and go bowling together or smth

lavender + ethara and ceralon

Lavender - our ocs and their respective partners on a double date together

okay so this one is funny to me because i feel like no matter what a “double date” for these four is different than the norm even in a modern AU??

anyways i’m getting the vibe of the boys guarding cerelle & tara as they stroll through the gardens in king’s landing. tara wanted to get to know cerelle better especially since they’re sisters-in-law even if cerelle has been… well… missing for years !!!

ethan is half paying attention to the conversation half just staring down balon bc he’s the newbie to the kingsguard in this scenario and i think ethan is kind of annoyingly trying to assess if he’s good at his job which is… ironic to say the very least !!!

balon is chill and dutiful so hes probably annoyed when ethan inevitably starts trying to talk to him while they’re watching over the girls. but ethan is anything if not annoying and he simply can’t stop himself from trying to yap a little bit !!

meanwhile i feel like things might be a bit ??? with cerelle and tara only bc of everything that cerelle has been through ++ the awkwardness of meeting the wife of the brother you haven’t seen in years… like that’s not the easiest situation to process lol

in a modern au, however? it’s giving ethan trying to introduce his new girlfriend tara to his cousin cerelle who ofc has to bring along her bodyguard balon to dinner bc duh obviously he’ll be there !!

prompt from this crossover ask game!

[siravalondulac]

loreon combines the insanity of his mother with the cunning brutality of his grandfather, except that he also has the element of surprise about him bc the entirety of westeros just sees him as a slut

he doesn't even care that much about his family. what is important is that he comes out on top.

loreon is just my special little war criminal ✊️😔❤️

before any of you become too attached to loreon/male!cerelle, i feel like i have to tell you that he organised the red wedding all by himself in his universe

[siravalondulac]

4 pls!!

4. Describe your favourite subplot in one image.

[siravalondulac]

19 + whoever of your choosing !

19. Describe your OC's typical reaction to a minor inconvenience in one image/gif/meme.

i went with helena, my baby <3

[siravalondulac]

Describe your OC when they get emotional. Use an image/gif/meme.

for cerelle <3

[siravalondulac]

15 and 2 for an OC of your choosing from the most recent ask game? 🫶

i will do humfrey and lucion for both bc they're both about to become very important in house of lies

15. Describe your OC when they're sick. Use an image/gif/meme.

humfrey | lucion

2. Describe a character of your choice in one image.

humfrey | lucion

[siravalondulac]

What's an image/gif/meme that sums up the beef between your hero and the villain?

for benjiamin and cerelle 🙂‍↕️

[siravalondulac]

Show And (Don't) Tell OC Ask Game

This is a fun ask game of a different variety, instead of a written answer use a reaction pic, a gif or a meme to answer the question.

Describe your WIP in one image.

Describe a character of your choice in one image.

What's an image/gif/meme that sums up the beef between your hero and the villain?

Describe your favourite subplot in one image.

Describe a favourite scene in one image.

Your OC just walked in on something scandalous. What is their reaction in one image?

Your OC is angry. What's their go to reaction image?

Your OC needs a one liner. What reaction pic, gif or meme are you using?

What Vine/Tiktok gives off your OC's energy? Use a screenshot or post a link.

What Vine/Tiktok could be used as a tagline for your WIP? Use a screenshot or post a link.

Use an image/gif/meme to describe the relationship of your favourite pairing.

Use an image/gif/meme to describe your favourite dynamic between two characters.

Use an image/gif/meme to describe the Antagonist of your WIP.

Describe your OC when they're drunk. Use an image/gif/meme.

Describe your OC when they're sick. Use an image/gif/meme.

Describe your OC when they get emotional. Use an image/gif/meme.

Your OC has just seen a cute kitten/puppy/axolotl/frog. Use an image/gif/meme to describe their reaction.

Describe your OC's life in one image/gif/meme.

Describe your OC's typical reaction to a minor inconvenience in one image/gif/meme.

Describe your experience with your WIP with one image/gif/meme.

[siravalondulac]

before any of you become too attached to loreon/male!cerelle, i feel like i have to tell you that he organised the red wedding all by himself in his universe

[siravalondulac]

[siravalondulac]

032. ellaria iii

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: ellaria grows concerned for her children word count: 2170 warnings: slight implied racism, implied abuse

masterlist

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“No, my love. You'll be late for the council meeting.”

Oberyn hummed against the skin of her neck. “The Old Lion can wait.”

“Do not give him more reasons to despise us.” She gently pressed his body away from hers, and laid her hands on the sides of his face. “We have to play along, no matter how much it pains us.”

He pulled a grimace. “I would very much like to walk into the Keep and bury my spear in his stomach right then and there.”

“Soon. I promise, we'll get our justice soon. And then no one will be able to stop you.”

His lips were warm underneath hers, insistent and gentle all at once, and she nearly lost herself in her lover's embrace. It would be far too easy to simply give in, to urge the hands that ran along her bare skin further downward, to once again disappear into the sheets and forget the world outside.

“I know what you are doing,” she whispered into the kiss.

Oberyn laughed. “It was worth a try.”

They got dressed afterwards - separately, without the help of the other, even though Ellaria could not help her gaze wandering and watching her paramour’s body in the mirror.

“I’m scared for the girls.”

He turned towards her, his vest still half unbuttoned. “Why, my love? What is wrong?”

“Elia has become very detached, more so than I have ever seen. She refuses to go to the Red Keep alone and spends far too much time outside of the city with her horse. This is not good for her. I fear she has heard what people say about us.”

“You need not be afraid. She is tough and brave. Some little lordlings will never be able to get under her skin.”

“It’s not just her.” Ellaria hesitated. “Elle… She has not been the same since she returned to us, but something about living in the Red Keep has made it worse. There is no light behind her eyes anymore, she barely speaks, she barely even reacts to a single thing. Something has gone very, very wrong.”

Oberyn stared at the ground, jaw tight, hands buried into the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, she walked towards him and laid her hands on his chest.

“We need to get her out of here. Both of them.”

“How?” His lip trembled. “The moment she disappears, we will be the first ones accused. Our lives depend on her playing her part.”

“You cannot accept that this burden was put on Elle. She is still half a child.”

“I know, I know.” He groaned and stepped away from her, stopping by the window and staring towards the Keep towering above them. “But what else is there to do? Our army is not even close as big as my brother pretends it is. Were Elle to disappear, and were Tywin Lannister to invade Dorne, we will not survive. He has the support of the Tyrells now, I may remind you, and they would like nothing more than to see us burn.”

“So you want us to do nothing? Stand by as the child you raised is torn apart by these people?”

“Of course not. But what do you suggest we do?”

“We need to find out what is causing her this pain.” Ellaria joined him beside the window, interlacing their hands. “And then take appropriate measures to protect her. She is about to be married off, and if there is one thing I know about Elle it’s that she will not be happy being tied to someone she does not love. Either we prevent this from happening, or we quickly find her a husband that plays along with us.”

Oberyn laid his forehead onto hers, and played with the rings on her fingers. “I should have wed you a long time ago.”

“We both know why we can't, my love.”

True, bastards were not looked down upon in Dorne as much as they were in other kingdoms, yet still a prince would not be allowed to marry one - no matter how far down in the line of succession he was.

And Ellaria liked the freedom of being able to leave should she so choose. Should she fall out of love with Oberyn, or should she tire of him. Her father had assured her she and her daughters would always have a place at Hellholt.

(He had also sworn to take revenge, should her paramour ever harm or mistreat her.)

“Can we not stay here for a while longer?” Oberyn asked, trying to press his lips to hers once more. “I do not think I will be able to deal with those fools today.”

“We both have places to be.” She brushed some of his hair behind his ear, then leaned forward and whispered, “But when we get back, we will try for a fifth child.”

A shudder went through his body. “As you command, my queen.”

She had always found making friends easy, so it was no surprise that several ladies of the royal court had accepted her invitation for an afternoon tea in one of the small halls of the Red Keep.

At no part did the situation ever feel uncomfortable or stiff or ripe to explode; everyone was courteous and friendly with each other, despite hailing from such different backgrounds. Dorne, the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, and even a lady from the Vale.

Ellaria introduced them to some of the new tea mixtures that have recently arrived at Westeros’ shores, and that single thing remained the topic of discussion for quite a while. Not many of the women had tried the Yi-Tish drink, and it almost made her giddy being able to introduce it to them.

Elle sat quietly in one corner of the room, her preferred tea already beside her as she worked on a piece of embroidery. Jynessa had lent her her own materials and needles due to Elle having left hers at Sunspear, and she seemed at least a smidge happier than she usually was.

“I am very grateful to have my brother with me,” Lanna Lannister said, the babe in her arms holding onto one of her fingers. “Ever since my husband has been released by House Piper after they swore fealty, he has not been himself. I fear what happens should he never get better.”

“Worry not, dear cousin.” Myrielle laid a hand on Lanna’s shoulder. “Everything will be as it once was now that the wars are over. And your brother Lucion will support you until then.”

The young mother nodded.

Suddenly, Elle stood beside Ellaria, a piece of fabric in her outstretched hand. She took it, and smiled at the two intricately embroidered snakes - one red and one orange.

“Thank you, my dear. Wonderful as ever.”

Elle nodded with a slight smile, before returning to her chair quietly and starting work on another piece.

“How rude of her.” Myranda Lefford shook her head. “Simply walking away without saying a thing. That is very unbecoming of a princess.”

“Elle has never been a girl of many words, my lady. But she shows her feelings through other ways - movements, expressions, and gifts.” Ellaria let her fingers run across the stitching. “There is nothing wrong about the way she interacts with the world, and I know that, for her, hand-made items such as these are worth far more than a thousand words of gratitude.”

The woman clearly wanted to say something, yet luckily thought better of it.

They continued talking about what each of them had recently gone through, and what the war had done to them and their families. Despite the whispers Ellaria often heard at court, most of the women in the room were quite respectful when asking about her life at Dorne, and how she and Oberyn had met and come to be.

All it did was remind her of how much she missed her daughters.

Jynessa, Myriah, and some of the other younger women had assembled by the window, giggling as they looked outside.

“What are you doing? I want to see too,” Lelia Lydden said as she joined them.

“The guards are training in the yard.”

More giggles.

“Gods, just look at them.”

Despite Ellaria being much too old for this, and despite having to know better, she too walked up to the window to see what was drawing so much attention. And as she looked down, she definitely understood the girls’ enthusiasm.

The day had been strangely warm for autumn, and therefore many of the men sparring and training below had ditched their shirts, leading to the creation of quite a beautiful sight. Broad chests and strong arms both came alive under the strain they were being put under, the sweat coating their pale skin and making their hair stick to their foreheads.

Ellaria would have quite liked picking up one of the men and having her fun with him. Maybe she could convince Oberyn to find them a bedmate for the night.

“I think I prefer the one with the mace.”

“Truly? That one?”

“The archer is quite cute.”

“Just look at the way he wields that lance.”

“Do you see that one? I think that's Ser Balon, the one I told you about.”

“Gods, he definitely is Dornish, I understand what you mean.”

“Elle, have a look. Your knight is down there.”

Ellaria's gaze wandered to the girl, sitting frozen at the other end of the room, the embroidery pressed against her body.

“Why did he become a Kingsguard? With a body like that he could have easily gotten any woman in Westeros.”

“Elle, you are far stronger than me. I would have seduced my sworn shield long ago if he looked like that.”

“Stop teasing the poor child.” Still, Ellaria could not help her smile at these antics. It reminded her of her own youth. “And I am certain Ser Balon is quite content with his position.”

Myriah prepared to say something when the door opened and a man in the red and golden armour of House Lannister stepped inside.

“Princess Cerelle? The Hand demands to see you.”

Faster than any of them were able to comprehend his words, Elle had already jumped up and followed the man outside.

Ellaria was on her way back to the manse as she suddenly heard quiet sobs coming from one of the Keep's hallways. She signalled her guards to remain where they were, and went to investigate.

Perhaps it was a servant that had been beaten by one of the nobility, or a lost child unable to find its way back to their family-

“Elle?”

The princess, who had until now cowered on the floor in one of the alcoves, startled at the sound of her voice. Her eyes widened and she tried to jump up, but Ellaria swiftly pressed a hand to her shoulder, and sat down beside her.

“It's alright, it's alright. I am here now. You are safe.”

She carefully brushed some of the loose strands of hair behind Elle’s ear, and wiped away the tears that were still escaping her swollen and blood-shot eyes. The girl was trembling all over and her breath came in short, panicked bursts, but what concerned her more than anything else was the bruise slowly forming on her right cheek. And that combined with how much she was crying…

“Elle, is someone mistreating you?”

The girl hastily shook her head, her blue eyes blown wide with fear. “No, no, I- I stumbled. I stumbled and fell. And then I crashed into one of the tables in the hallway. I’m glad the corner missed my eye, had it not-”

“Hey, it’s alright. I am merely worried about you.” Ellaria smiled, trying not to let it show how little she believed this lie. “Would you like to see the maester? He could give you something to prevent swelling.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“You do not have to go through this alone, you know? We are here if you ever need help.”

Then Elle did something unexpected. At least Ellaria did not expect the girl to ever feel comfortable enough around her to huddle up against her, with her head in her lap and her hands buried in Ellaria’s amber dress.

She smiled sadly as her hands slowly started running over Elle’s hair - braided into a tight circle at the back of her head, with a red ribbon running through it. Golden detailing was fastened both to it and to the burgundy dress that hugged her body far too tightly to ever be considered comfortable. The gown was beautiful, that was out of the question, yet expansive and heavy and with a kind of neckline Elle had never worn in Sunspear.

She had been forced into this.

“I wish you would have been my mother.”

And if Ellaria had not known how to react to being hugged by her, then this admission left her frozen to the spot.

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[siravalondulac]

031. jaime iii

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: nothing will be as it once was. jaime has trouble accepting this. word count: 2455 warnings: none author's note: double chapter today! hope you have fun with ellaria afterwards :>

masterlist

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It should have been perfect. Cerelle’s return should have fixed everything. Sure, Joffrey was dead and Tyrion had disappeared somewhere not even Varys had found him yet, but the great tragedy that had haunted them this past decade was now resolved. Cersei’ daughter was back, his daughter was back.

Things were never this easy.

Cerelle had turned into a shell of her former self, yet no one seemed to notice. The happy, outgoing, chaos-loving child who had never followed a single rule even if threatened with punishment now was little more than another mindless courtier, and whose smile always made him recoil in disgust.

His sister did not seem to care, and he almost screamed at her because of it.

This is not our child! This is not who I wanted! Why are you accepting this creature?

He sometimes wondered if this strange woman at Cersei’s side - little more than a copy of his sister without a mouth of its own - was truly who she claimed to be. It would have been so easy for the crown’s enemies to pick up a nameless Westerlander, dress her up, and present her to the court. No one would have been any wiser for it.

Yet considering there was no true motive found behind such a plan - lest someone conspired to assassinate Tommen and install his sister on the throne - Jaime simply had to accept the truth.

Cerelle had returned. But somewhere along the line, she had lost herself.

He should not concern himself with it - he was only her uncle, after all, only a Kingsguard. Caring about the princess was necessary, yes, but not to such an extreme. People would soon start asking questions, and then-

“You’ve been brooding a lot these past few weeks, has anyone told you that?”

He flinched, and almost threw a slew of curses at Brienne.

“Could you not sneak up on me like that?” he said with exasperation.

“Isn’t a Kingsguard meant to be on constant alert for threats?”

“Threats against the king, not oneself.”

“Sounds like you’re simply lousy at your job.”

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her again, hands lying on the stone wall before him to prop himself up. Brienne’s gaze followed his.

“Is that Princess Cerelle?”

Their position provided them with the perfect view of a small section of the stoney beach below them, upon which a figure in a red dress fought with a wooden sword against invisible enemies.

“Aye,” he answered reluctantly. “She has been going at it for a while.”

“I didn’t know she could fight.”

Neither did he.

“Does she know you’re stalking her?”

His head turned towards her in shock. “I am not stalking her.” He couldn’t help the edge of offence in his voice.

“Then why are you up here and not down there with her?” Brienne remained completely unphased. “You clearly want to talk with her.”

Jaime tried to find a response, a reason for avoiding a conversation with his niece (his daughter), yet all he did was helplessly open and close his mouth several times.

“And what are you doing here?” he quickly said in defense. “Shouldn’t you be protecting your precious Lady Sansa?”

Brienne lowered her gaze, her jaw tightening.

Great, now he felt terrible. Why was he not able to hold even one, single conversation with the woman that had saved his life? Why did he always have to be on the defense instead of letting himself be vulnerable for once? She clearly wanted to talk to him, otherwise she would not have approached him, and he simply trampled on the trust she had in him as if it meant nothing.

“I came here to think of ways to protect her,” she said slowly. “She cannot stay in the Red Keep forever, not after people still accuse her of murdering the king.”

“She has family in the Vale, perhaps we could take her there.”

We.

“Is Lady Lysa to be trusted?”

“Not particularly.” He quickly looked back to his niece on the beach below them, to avoid losing himself in Brienne’s gaze. “She was already half mad when she lived in King’s Landing, I cannot imagine she has gotten better since.”

“But besides her, she has no family left.”

No. His father had seen to that.

“If we cannot get her out of here soon,” Brienne continued, “she might be married off again and dragged to a castle neither of us have access to. Or worse, she’ll be handed over to the Boltons.”

“I don’t think that’s very likely. They would have her killed to secure their claim on the North.”

“Then I suppose we can be glad she has asked to stay here for a while longer. Gives us more time to plan.”

“Will you go with her?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Once we have found a place for her.”

“I will fulfil the promise I made to Lady Catelyn, however that may look. Why?”

“Curiosity.”

She stayed beside him for another moment before she said, “Go talk to her. I know you want to.”

Cerelle had her back turned to him, still entirely focused on her wooden sword. Her moves were sharp, her steps precise, yet it was clear she was not used to the way a blade ought to be wielded. No, she had learned with a very different kind of weapon.

The stones beneath his feet shifted, and she suddenly whirled around, instinctively bringing her sword down - and connected it with his own wooden blade.

“Jaime!”

He grinned, and lowered his own sword just as she did.

“A princess of the realm, on the beach, training with a sword. How unseemly. How perverse.” He mocked her in that gossiping accent of the ladies of the court.

“Stop that.”

He laughed. “Where is Ser Boros?”

“I don’t like him.” She took a few steps away from him and kicked a small rock into the water. “He looks at me as if I were a piece of meat.”

If it were up to him he would have thrown the aging man into the Narrow Sea many years ago, yet considering he had been relieved of his Kingsguard duties once before and reinstated afterwards for lack of a better candidate, he doubted things would change this time around.

“I’ll try not to assign him to you anymore. But we are only seven, and Ser Balon has to rest as well.”

Her gaze met his, and there almost seemed to be a question lying in that endless, river-like blue. Yet whatever it was, she clearly thought better of it and returned to playing with the stones beneath her shoes.

Jaime continued, “But what interests me more than Boros’ whereabouts is how you shook off your mother.”

“Don't ask, I'm not proud of it.”

He chuckled once more. “You know, I can imagine that if you disappear often enough, she might be compelled to put a leash on you.”

Her eyes widened and he only narrowly caught her arm to stop her from running back to the Keep.

“Easy there, Cerelle. I was joking.” She did not seem convinced. “Besides, as long as you are with me, she will not say a word.”

It did not seem to calm her worries, yet she at least made no more attempts at leaving.

He nodded towards the blade in her hand. “Why are you not training inside the castle?”

“People already blame Oberyn for enough, I don't want to give them more reasons.”

Jaime almost pulled a grimace at the mention of the Dornishman.

He knew he should not be angry or jealous at the man - he had saved Cerelle, after all, and had taken care of her in a way Jaime would have never been able to.

(He had overheard his father and the prince talking about raising her, and what her education had been like in Dorne.)

And yet… Oberyn had denied him the possibility to even try. Who knew, perhaps Jaime would have been able to demand Cerelle as his heir in addition to his release from the Kingsguard vows. She had once had the Lannister cunning and ambition when she had been younger, after all, and her looks now left no doubt as to who she belonged to.

Not Storm's End, that was for certain.

Yet none of it had come to be, and now his own daughter treated a strange and foreign man as if he were her true father. Her rare true smiles were kept for him and his family, as were her secrets and grievances.

(Someone at court had called her the Golden Viper. As a whisper, yet all knew how quickly those could spread.)

“Then show me what you have learned,” Jaime quickly said, eager to banish those thoughts from his mind. He tapped his wooden sword to the ground before him, and took his position. “Go on.”

“You only have one hand.”

“That should make it rather easy for you, then.”

He almost missed her first two hits, only narrowly managing to jump backward and raise his sword to protect his face.

Cerelle almost grinned, yet just like any true smile he had seen on her face these past weeks, it quickly disappeared. This time she at least had a reason.

What they were doing could not even remotely be called proper sword fighting, and Jaime was quite glad to be so far away from the castle. His lessons with Bronn had done him well, yet it would still take years until he regained even a fraction of his former prowess.

It filled him with dread - knowing he might have become completely useless.

Cerelle almost stumbled over her dress at some points, leading to her removing one hand from the sword hilt to bunch up her skirts and keep them out of her way. That was the first time he truly noticed that she was fighting with her left hand, just like him. Though for her, he supposed, that more came with a general instinct than strict necessity.

Still. It made him feel less alone.

Sometime during their sparring - after she had chased him around some stone structures and even into the water - quiet giggles started escaping her mouth, and a smile began spreading on her face. It wasn’t much, yet he felt his heart grow at the sparkle inside her ocean blue eyes. This was what his daughter was meant to look like.

“Who taught you all of this?” he said after he evaded yet another of her hits.

“A man named Tomas.” She attempted to lunge forward, yet her wooden blade only graced his leg. “I stayed with him for a few days while travelling the Riverlands. And when he noticed my interest in the blades he was forging, he took me to the field beside his home and began training me.”

“Sounds exciting.” A quick parry once again led to his sword being buried between the pebbles below their feet. “I would have expected Prince Oberyn to be behind this.”

“Not this one.” She spun away, readjusted the grip on her skirts. “He focused on teaching me how to wield a spear, and to me that was enough.”

“You fight like it, you know? Your footwork, the way you hold the handle, how you focus on quick strikes and are gone a moment later, always out of reach. That is not how you properly sword fight.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “That is nothing to apologise for. Be glad for it - it will take your opponent off guard should you ever face one.”

Jaime hoped she did not. That she would forever stay safe, close to him, where he could protect her and shield her from his own father.

Cerelle’s gaze shifted upward, toward the sun slowly making its way to the horizon’s edge. “I should go,” she whispered. “Mother will be so angry with me.”

Her steps were exceptionally quick, forcing him to fall into a sprint to keep up with her, wondering if he should be angry with her for not even attempting to say her goodbyes. But then again, he had seen his sister’s reaction to losing sight of their daughter for even a moment - her worries, no matter how maddening, were justified.

He meant to stop her before she re-entered the Red Keep, yet didn’t have to. Because somewhere on the steps leading towards the gardens, Cerelle suddenly halted.

She looked back at him, the wooden sword still gripped tight between her fingers. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He stepped up beside her. “Is something wrong?”

“I-” For a single moment, he thought he saw something akin to fear and uncertainty in her eyes, but those emotions were quickly replaced by Cerelle’s usual, passive facade. “Some days ago, someone mentioned that one of the lords is looking at me that way, and that they wished this lord would notice them instead. What did they mean by that?”

He wanted to laugh. “Considering your hand in marriage is soon to be given away, I assume this lord is looking at you because he wants you.”

She stared at him. “Are you certain? I did not- This man cannot marry me, why would he want me?”

“Does this lord already have a wife, or why are you so certain he is unable to be one of your suitors?”

“No, he…” She scratched at the fabric above her right arm. “How do I recognise that look? I am not certain if perhaps someone is trying to trick me, so I need to know for certain.”

Jaime could think of at least two dozen things he would rather do than explain something like this to his daughter - if it were up to him he would find that lord and make him keep his distance from Cerelle - but he supposed he had to concede. Just this once.

“I don’t know how to properly explain it. It is something like the feeling you get when you want something, truly want something and will stop at nothing to get it. Except it is about a person.” He tried to think of Cersei. “You watch them because you don’t know how such a person could exist. When you enter a room, your gaze immediately searches for them, even if you know for certain they are not there. Your mind simply wishes they were.”

“So the way you look at Lady Brienne?”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Oh, I apologise. I thought- No, forget it, I must have misinterpreted it. But thank you for explaining.”

And with that she was gone, leaving him to deal with the weight of her accusation on his own.

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[siravalondulac]

loreon baratheon // gender swap au

inspired by @robnikmeria

[siravalondulac]

https://www.tumblr.com/siravalondulac/787479718840680448

Kink + Benjiamin and Cerelle?

kink — what are their kinks? do they have a primary kink? are there any kinks they'd be interested in trying? are there any kinks they don't like or aren't interested in trying?

as said before in another ask, cerelle definitely pegs ben. like. a hundred percent. over time, he'll also grow to find comfort in submitting to her, and letting her decide everything that goes on in the bedroom. he has had so much responsibility for all his life, so many expectations just thrust upon him, that this is the only time he feels safe just letting go. and she genuinely enjoys taking care of him. he will be bratty from time to time, of course, but that's just part of who he is. and sometimes they will even switch places, have him be the one on top, but that happens very rarely.

he also eats pussy like a mad man.