#Cerelle Lannister x OC

[queen--kenobi]

SCREAMING AND CRYING I got both my commissions from @felrija back, and y'all!!! I cannot express how much I love them, these are both absolutely perfect. They are absolutely gorgeous and just... exactly what I pictured

I cannot get over how in love Tyland looks with Elayna in the first one, and the second one is just !!! Oh I love how both Elayna and Cerelle look, and how they're looking at each other and I just !!!!!!!! Thank you so much

I put the reference photos under the cut so y'all can see how amazing these are. Genuinely I cannot express how perfect they are and how much I love them I literally want to frame them

[sophiemariepl]

Idk how much truth there is to that statement but this idea lives rent-free in my head 😂🙈

[ladybug023]

Little Shadowcat Chapter 1

Daeron Targaryen x Cerelle Lannister

Warnings: None this a pretty fluffy chapter. Some spying, mention of murder.

Notes: Cerelle only communicates through sign language and gestures.

(8 years ago)

Tyland Lannister wandered through the lush gardens of Casterly Rock, searching for his little niece, Cerelle. He was informed by the septa that the triplets, Jaissa, Elissa, and Marissa had been teasing Cerelle once again. Cerelle was an easy target for their mocking because she was born deaf.

Tyland was visiting Casterly Rock for Cerelle’s sixth name day. It was nice to get away fron King's Landing and its purtrid stink, to get some fresh air for once. Though, he couldn’t stay away for long. Based on what he had heard, Lady Laena Valyrion's funeral was a complete and utter catastrophe. In short, Prince Aemond had tamed the great beast Vhagar. However, he later had his eye gouged out by one of Princess Rhaenyra’s bastards. The Queen in turn attempted to kill the Princess, and somehow it ended with Lord Laenor dead and the Princess married to her uncle, Prince Daemon.

Oh Gods, how Tyland wished he could have been there to witness all of the melodrama unfold in person. He found it amusing that House Targaryen was tearing itself apart from within, and civil war seemed inevitable, plunging the realm into chaos. With chaos came opportunity, and now that the Greens had Vhagar on their side, Tyland knew whom to bet on.

After searching for some time, he finally found Cerelle hiding up a tall tree, her big emerald eyes were puffy from crying. She didn't hear him approach, so he shook the tree to get her attention. She noticed the quaking leaves and looked down.

"Cerelle, dear. Can I come up?" Tyland knew sign language, having learned for her. Something, that even her own parents did not bother to do.

She nodded and signed, "Please."

With practiced ease, Tyland climbed up the tree to reach Cerelle, as he had done many times before. As he approached her, he could see tears streaming down her face, and her expensive dress was dirtied from the climbing. Her once-stylish golden hair now resembled frizzy cat ears, adding to her disheveled appearance as she sniveled helplessly.

"What's wrong, little one?" he asked her.

"They teased me again," she signed back, her fingers trembling. "Marissa thinks my voice is weird.”

With a deep sigh, Tyland thought about Johanna's insistence on Cerelle taking speaking lessons with their Maester. He understood how hard it must be for her to learn to pronounce words that she could not hear. It was moments like this that made him empathize with Cerelle, who he knew was an outsider even within her own family. They were like shadowcats among the lions, always watching and waiting. Tyland reached out to tuck a loose lock of Cerelle's hair behind her ear, a small gesture of understanding between two kindred spirits.

"I know it's hard, Cerelle. But your deafness is a gift," he signed to her. Cerelle looked at him, confusion etched on her face.

“How so?” She asked. “I am a cripple.”

“You cannot hear people's lies, and you can see them for what they truly are."

"I do not understand," she signed back. Tyland took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain.

"People always say one thing but mean another, they hide their true intentions," he signed. "But you can see the truth in their actions and in their eyes. You can see the world as it truly is." Cerelle looked at him, her eyes wide with understanding. Tyland knew that he had gotten through to her. He wiped away her tears with his thumb and smiled at her.

"Now, let us go inside, it is time for supper and I am sure all that crying made you famished.” he signed to her. She nodded in agreement.

Once they climbed down the tree together, he took her little hand in his. As they made their way back into the Rock, Cerelle tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Uncle," she signed, "Can I have a dragon for my name day?" Cerelle had been enamored with dragons since her Maester had first told her about them. She believed that with a dragon of her own, no one would ever dare tease her again. They wouldn't be able to look down on her if she was soaring high above them on her dragon. Tyland chuckled softly.

"My dear, a Lannister can afford anything in this world except for a dragon. Only a person who posses Valyrian blood can ride a dragon." Tyland saw the disappointment in her eyes and quickly added, "But, what about a pet cat instead? They can be just as fierce and loyal as any dragon, and I promise it will be the best cat in all of Westeros."

Cerelle's face lit up as she eagerly signed, "Yes, please!"

Her beaming smile warmed Tyland’s black heart. Perhaps, that was because a part of him hoped that by bringing joy to his lonely niece’s life, he could redeem himself in a way.

(8 years later in Kingslanding)

Cerelle crouched on the rooftop, peering down at the bustling streets of Fleebottom. She had been following the movements of one of the White Worm’s servants for hours now, hoping to gather information that could prove useful to her uncle. Ser Whiskers, her cat and faithful companion, sat next to her cleaning himself.

Cerelle had to be disguised whenever she went out on these assignments. No one could know that Tyland Lannister’s little niece was prowling the streets of Kingslanding. Her suit was practical and prioritized stealth.She wore flat shoes and fingerless gloves to maintain tactile sensation, while her slim-fitting black pants were crafted from a flexible material to maximize mobility. The top and bottom of the ensemble was a charcoal grey. Cerelle opted not to wear excessive armor that would impede her mobility, but she did wear metal poleyns on her knees and small pauldrons that resembled a lion’s visage. She concealed her face by wearing a mask. Finally, She donned a pitch black hooded cloak adorned with shadow cat fur on the shoulders and frayed at the hem, creating an impression that she was partly comprised of darkness whilst wearing it.

Cerelle had a repeating crossbow slung over her back and two daggers with flamberge blades secured to her waist. Additionally, she had a pouch of arrows with poisoned tips.

As she watched, the servant stopped in front of a rundown tavern and spoke briefly with two men. One was skinny as a rail with a long rodent-like nose. The other one was huge, he looked as if he could easily break elephant bone. She recognized them, although for the life of her, she could not remember their names. She knew the skinny one had once worked as a rat catcher for the Red Keep; she used to see him work in the Keep's tunnels. The big man was once a member of the City Watch. She remembered sitting in the ladies' gallery, watching him get stripped of his rank of Sergeant of the City Watch by the Hand. From what her uncle told her, it was because he beat a girl to death with his bare fists. Cerelle took out her spyglass to get a better look and read their lips.

“2 million gold dragons or we’re not doin it” The big one said.

“We agreed to 500,000.” The servant replied.

“500,000 isn’t shit!” The skinny one sneered. “Not for what she want us to do!”

“The Mistress will not be pleased,”

“Fuck the White Worm! You can tell that bitch if she wants a royal de-”

Suddenly, a piercing roar split the air, and Cerelle noticed smallfolk scrambling off the streets in terror. She flinched as she felt the strong wind of something swooping overhead. Ser Whiskers leaped into her arms, shaking. Looking up, she saw a massive blue dragon soaring in the sky. Its wings were a dark cobalt, while its claws, crest, and belly scales were the color of bright beaten copper. Atop the dragon, she saw a boy – a Targaryen, she figured by his looks– but she had never seen this boy or dragon before. She watched as the dragon flew off to the Dragonpit.

After a couple of moments she turned back her attention to the streets, the servant and thugs were no where in sight. Cerelle mentally cursed as she surveyed the area for any sign of were they might of went. It was no use. She wished she could have witnessed the rest of their conversation but from what she gathered, it was not hard for Cerelle to assume that the White Worm wanted someone dead, but surely she wasn’t stupid enough to target someone in the royal family? After all, Mysaria had been Otto Hightower's informant for years – it just didn't add up. And yet, in a city like King's Landing, where the number of liars and cheats far outweighed the number of rats, maybe it made perfect sense after all.

Cerelle suspected that the target of any assassination would be Prince Aemond Targaryen, who had become a kinslayer after the events at Storm's End - a grave offense in Westeros that carried no forgiveness. The mere thought of the word "kinslayer" left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she could not deny that she had no room to judge.

With Ser Whiskers trailing behind her, Cerelle gracefully descended from the rooftop and headed back to the Keep. She had plenty to report, but for now, all she wanted was a hot bath and a good meal to wash away the stench of the gutters. Her mind was consumed with the image of the boy riding the dragon as she walked, replaying it over and over again. Questions of his identity swirled around in her head, until a distant memory surfaced. Uncle had once mentioned a third son of the late King Visarys. Suddenly, everything clicked, the lost Prince Daeron Targaryen had finally returned home. Cerelle quickened her pace towards the castle.

Oh Gods, this should be interesting...

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (V)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2,323

CW: maniplation and bullying, toxic relationships, stalking, obssession, not beta read

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n we get to see some of aemonds perspective and lets jsut say hes a 'little' mad and obssessed with Aemma

“My Lady strong” Aemond mumbled, taking her hand in his arm as they walked into the great hall. It had been four years since the event of her ninth name day, and since then her and Aemonds relationship had become more and more turbulent. 

“Aemond!” she grumbled, walking forward, a smile plastered on her face as they entered the feast held to celebrate their bethrothal. 

She had officially become a woman in the eyes of the court and the gods. Her moons blood having arived four moons prior, allowing plenty of time for Alicent to prepare her for her wedding to Aemond, a duty her mother should have performed. But her mother scarcely came to red keep, her favorite child and only daughter had quickly become forgotten over the five years since driftmark. 

Though the past four years had been spent with sneers and loathing glares, atleast on Aemmas end, between her and Aemond. These past four years had been some of her favoruite. 

She had quickly become a favoruite at court, with lords and ladies throwing themselves (literally in some cases) at her, to get a glimmer of her attention. It seemed that the second her and Aemonds obsession with eachother ended (as far as Aemma was concerned, though Aemond still stalked her and obsessed over every detail of her, just now in secret). 

She had her beloved ladies. Girls from throughout westros, handpicked by Alicent and her mother (a very rare event and scary event, that she knew they both had loathed, and she loathed the thought of the two people that hate eachother to such a large event that the court had even taken sides, just to find her freinds) to be her closest friends and her confidant. 

There was five of them in total, Cassandra Baratheon, her dearest friend and fellow hater of Aemond, Rosia Tyrell, the youngest of them at ten and one namedays,  having replaced Yara Reed, after she was sent to bear island for her marriage to lord Rickon Mormont, then there was Cerelle Lannister, Jason lannister. Maergret Fossway, and Cersci Costayne. 

They had been her ladies for four years now, though she knew soon enough they would all have to leave, they would be married off and scattered throught westoros, and she would have new handpicked friends coming and going every few years. But she still adored them, though her and Cersci had a turbulent relationship, these girls were her sisters and she dreaded to think of life without them. Life without their daily tea and gossip, or their walks through the gardens, their days without tormenting Aemond with petty pranks. Yara had been older than them all, being seven and ten namedays already, and she being three and ten would be the youngest, and once wed would arrange all their marriages herself and be able to let them go when she felt they were ready, and not as soon as possible to help appease a waring family.

“Aemma!” Aemond sneered, they had reached the high table already, “stop daydreaming!” gods, he was annoying.

Patting down her dress and they moved to sit, she spoke “can you for once not be so cruel, we are too wed in seven days, lest us be civil” she spoke, her smile still pastered, a fasle calm to all onlookers.

But to Aemond he could tell she was worried, the pranks she would play on him had stopped, the teas and walks with her annoying ladies had halted, and she now spent most of her time in her room or the library.

Since her moon's blood, She was scared, and he had been making her scared, for years, and now they were actually getting married he could tell she was scared, of what, he wasnt sure.

He had been cruel and taken his pain out on her when she was innocent. A mistake he can never take back. And yet he had no remorse for it, as he would torment her, calling her lady strong, whispering bastard in her ear in the guise of sweet nothings. He would deliver dead pink Hydrid tea flowers (also known as Aemmas Rose), with their heads cut off in her room. Shredding what was once their favorite books, and leaving the remanst scattered in her spot in the library. He had taken over every corner she had once seen as hers.

“Hmm” he sighed “fine, prephas…on one condition” he spoke, seeing the fake loathing she loved to look at him with turn to…hope?

“What? You get to pluck out one of my eyes? Or no, I must pluck out my little brother's eye? Oh wait that is your right, an eye for an eye, something i agreed with in case you have forgotten, which if the last five years have been worth anything then you have-”

“Aemma” he shushed her, “gods, i do not want your eye, and yes i may have forgotten that you had taken my side once you found out what had happened, but that does not change that you” he whispered the next part, moving closer “are your whore of a mothers bastrad”

She flinched “that is not somehthing i can control, and you know that, so you can't fault me or hate me for it, espcially when in seven short days i will be your wife”

“Gods, I know that, I do, but everytime i look at you and i see your wretched brothers.”

“You think i dont know that, me and my brothers never gor along, do you not remember their ‘pranks’, such as the black cells? You remeber that don’t you? Rememebr how you wouldn’t rest until i was found, and when you did you were the only one who could sooth me, you were the only one who could get me to sleep. What happen to us Aemond, why did you turn to hate, when all i hver gave you was love. I understand we had somesort of obsession with one another but if it was really that bad then why did you not tell me, instead of hiding behind your pitiful excuses. We could have had a great love Aemond, and instead you made me hate you, so what what is this one conditon you desire, because i can assure you i'll do it, but it does not mean i will stop hating you, and i doubt it will stop you from hating me” she spoke these words, with a cold smile, looking out onto the feast, a fake look of happiness, as if they were the perfect couple, the couple she knew they could have been.

He remained silent, looking down at the table before standing and rezching his hand out “would you like to dance?”

She was shocked, not once in his life had Aemond asked her to dance, he despised it, would do everything to avoid the act, so the shock on her face wqas hard to disguise, as she nodded her head and accepted the outstretched hand. 

“You hate dancing” she mubled, as his hand descended to her waist, their hands outstretched.

“ i do” he nodded, before pulling her closes, and sniffing her hair. 

Gods if only she knew, knew that he only did those things so that he was always on her mind, as she was on his. “ and yet its the only way i can get this lcose to you before we are wed.”

She jolted back, not enough to worry onlookers, but enough to cause Aemond huff, and pull her even closer.

“What?!” she hissed “ you hate me?!”

“I never said that” he spoke truthfully.

She huffed “no, but it was heavily inplised” she sneered, “what were all of those-thoose…you were a bully for all thoose years, you ignroed, me berated me… called me” she looked around before whispering “my lady strong-”

“That's because you are, my..lady..strong, you are a strong and you are mine. Your mother made you a bastard but she also made you mine.” 

“YOU-” she said, a little too loudly, “you are mad”

“The best targeryens are” he replied, “i want you, i need you, i always have and always will. I just liked to play with you a little” he msiked, “ and in seven days i get to play with you even more” 

The song ended, and Aemond went to sit down. Leaving Aemma all the more confused. Just how he liked it.

Later that night Aemma sat alone in her chambers, her ladies having just left to retrie. Her conversatiuon with Aemond replaying over and over in her head.

She had always been a little slow, always compared to her great grandmother Daella. She was always called naive and had things dumbed down. And Aemond had always liked that she supposed. When they were younger he had always liked to dumb things down for her, even if she understood, making her reliant on him. She would stop thinking, stop wanting to understand things for herselves, because Aemond had made her believe he would do it for her. But she didn't know that, she overtime just started to think perhaps everyone was right, she was slow and needed the extra help. The help Aemond always amde surehe was giving her, even when she thought he hated her, he still did it. He had made her entirely reliant on him, and she would never know. 

“Aemma?” she heard someone whisper, unsure of where it was coming from.

“My lady strong?” the voice almost taunted.

“Hello?” she called out, standing up to look around “who's there?”. Aemond stepped out of the shadwos, causing her to jump “Aemond? What are you doing her” she asked, hand on her heart, and taking a deep breath.

“Too see you, my bethrothed.”

“We-we can..cannot be alone together until the wedding night..you should go” reaching for her seven pointed star pendant.

“I should, but we should also talk.” she sat down on her bed, reaching for her and pulling her down next to him.

“yes, yes i suppose so” she agreed, nodding her head, hand still wrapped around the pendant.

He smiled, not the cold one she was used to, but a warm one, one she had longed to see again (not that she would admit it) “good” he moved closer, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek.

That night they talked, it felt liek the old days, when they were the closest of friends. When they were envied by all for how close they were. It was like they were children again, and it made Aemmas heart skip a beat. 

The next day at breakfast, her ladies were told what had happen, with Cassandra shaking her head, “no! We hate him, hes a bully,” 

“Yes but he is also to be her husband, they should be close” said Cersci.

Clapping her hands, Cerelle agreed “oh its perfect, hes obsessed with you! After this we should go to his chambers and you two can go on a walk through the gardens, and have a picnic” she gusehd, grasping Aemmas hand.

Cassandra huffed “he has been nothing but cruel to her, and all of a sudden we love him? No its one of his games, hes taunting you”

“No” Aemma shook her, “no, hes changed, last night it was like we were the old Aemond and Aemma, before driftamark. He cant be-he-” she shook her head, her head dropping. “ its too cruel, even for Aemond. Why would he wish to strat a marriage based on a cruel game?”

“Beacuse hes mad!”

The ladies at the table all gasped at cassandra.

“What? He is, everyone can see that! He lost his sanity alongside his eye-”

Aemma slapped her arm “ Cassie! Dont say that, you werent there, that night was horrible!” she sighed, “ all know is that this is the start of something, we could be civil. Our marriage was meant to ease the conflict in our familes, and we agreed to try, and just let me be a little delcusional please” she laughed, “you all are!” causing the ladies to huff, “i mean it, like Maergret batting here eyes at Daeron verytime he visits and he doesnt even glance your way and he calls you Mary! And Rosia, Cregan Stark? We met him once and you have not stopped obsessing over him, not to mention he had a wife when we met him. And Cassie, lord Redwyne?” she gave her a look, “and dont get my started on you Cerelle and Cersci, i may be slow but dont think i havnet noticed to two of you!” she taunted, “let me think there might be a chance, please, and who knows you may be right, but either way in a week i will married, and he will be my husband. Whether we like him or not!”

Aemond thought she mad, not as mad as he, but as he watched her, sat in the gardens, as he hid behind a rose bush. One night of his undivided attention on her and she, well it was playing out perfectly. The games he had been playing fro years. The constant thought of eachtother on the others mind, the way he taunted her, made her beg fro his attention. Allowing one night of undivided attention to make her think they would be them old selves again. The old Aemma and Aemond. The Aemond who would slaughter the whole of Westros for her, the Aemma who believed very word he said and relied on him to do everything for her. The Aemma who when it came to the inevitable war would believe her mother had hated her, forgotten her, and that he was the only one who loved her. 

It was fun to taunt her, yes. But he loves her, always has, but he supposes the rumors at court were right, perphas all his sanity was in the eye stolen from him.

Next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut@idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19 @wolfiealina @unique7676 @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @flrboyd @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

[eurydycee]

Winter’s Thorn: chapter III

⚘ cregan stark x tyrell!OC

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format: series (ongoing) word count: ~ 4k warnings: women in westeros :( , not reread a/n: hello! The Kings Landing arc has ended with this chapter. The next arc will be their journey to the north where they spend time as betrothed

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“There had been decided that you—” Crayn began his confession, holding her hand steadfastly.

Until a voice interrupted them, causing both to turn their heads toward the intruder. “Good morning, I see that you have awakened. You had us both worried, brother.”

“Aah, good to see you too, Adlyn,” the knight responded with a tight smile, silently thanking the gods that his brother came at the right moment.

Adlyn turned to Euphemia while simultaneously letting his hand stroke her coral weaves, a gentle motion that sharply contrasted his demanding words, “You need to quit coddling your brother and return to court and the celebrations immediately.”

“You made us look incompetent. Just so you know, people get wounded and killed—it's part of the game, a fact you should be well aware of. I will not have you pulling stunts like rejecting your title as Queen of Beauty and Love.”

“He was mocking us—”

“He is a friend.”

“Is that what you tell yourself as you act like his lapdog?”

That made him snap, grabbing a fistful of her hair before yelling, “It is not your place to talk back to me or any man in the Keep. If I were to tell you to go back to Cregan and beg his forgiveness like a true lapdog, you will do so. I am responsible for you, and thus you will comply with my commands.”

He then let go of her and went back to a calmer version of himself.

“I expect you tonight to attend the ball in honor of the tournament winners and their assigned ladies. This is my command, and you shall obey it. Understood?”

Euphemia wanted to yell at him, to insult him, but all she could feel was pity. The death of their parents, his cursed inheritance, the near attempt on his life, and Crayn’s injury had turned him into an ugly man with an even uglier temper. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to obey. When her words failed her, her actions became her pillar, so she nodded obediently.

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Upon her walk back to her chamber, Euphemia couldn't help but notice the hushed whispers shared between courtiers, servants, and guards as she passed them. She had truly underestimated the impact of her absence. Though the walk to her chambers cost mere minutes, it felt like it took an eternity to escape the malicious gossip swirling around her. Even upon reaching her chamber, she was plagued by the overwhelming number of tasks that still awaited her: promenading with her dear friend Cerelle of House Lannister, joining the court ladies for lunch, visiting the sept, getting her dress fitted for the ball, and engaging in endless talking and gossiping.

Just when she felt like losing her sanity, Cerelle entered her chambers to fetch her, like the heroine she is, for their promised time together. The golden-haired Lannister moved with the grace of a lioness, her presence commanding attention.

“There you are, Phia. How I have missed you,” Cerelle exclaimed, stretching her hands out for Euphemia to grasp.

“How have you been after… well, everything? Once our time here is over, you must return with me to Casterly Rock, like when we were children. I long to relive our days there as young maidens, even for one more day.”

“Sister,” Euphemia gazed at her friend with genuine affection. Cerelle had always been the older sister she had wished for, possessing great beauty, sharp intellect, and an uplifting nature. She grasped her hand firmly, thinking how fortunate she was not to face the cunning people of court alone.

“Oh, I am even more thrilled to see you. It has been far too long,” she replied, her smile warm and sincere.

“Court has been both boring and heated lately. With your return, I hope to find some company and to bring some peace to this place.” The two girls stood up, leaving the chamber and allowing their feet to decide their destination.

“Tell me,” said Cerelle, turning to look at her friend. “Have you truly insulted Lord Stark, The Hand, the man who essentially holds the Seven Kingdoms in his hand?” Cerelle had heard many rumors about what had transpired but preferred to hear it directly from her friend.

“If you put it that way, then I suppose I did,” Euphemia scoffed, feeling her anger rise once again. ��But I felt wronged, being crowned with such a loving title  after what happened to my brother .”

“Whatever happened is in the past, you mustn’t let the blame fall on him. Show yourself as a devoted sister, the ever-dutiful nurse,” Cerelle warned sternly. 

Euphemia considered her words. It was indeed wiser not to speak ill of others, especially when she was still uncertain of her place in the court. She needed to present herself as a rose—opening her arms like petals and hiding her thorns beneath them.

The two friends walked through the castle's winding corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The scent of fresh flowers from the castle gardens wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the kitchens. Servants bowed as they passed, their eyes filled with curiosity and respect.

As they strolled, Cerelle shared stories of her time at Casterly Rock, her laughter like music to Euphemia’s ears. The memories of their carefree days as young maidens brought a sense of nostalgia, a brief respite from the burdens of court life.

—--------------------------------------------

As the evening approached, Euphemia stood in her chamber, surrounded by maids bustling about, preparing her for the ball. The scent of lavender and rose water filled the air as they brushed out her long, ginger-pink hair, pinning it up into an elaborate coiffure adorned with delicate pearls and golden filigree. A stunning gown of sage green silk, embroidered with golden thread, lay draped across a nearby chair, shimmering in the light of the setting sun.

Euphemia took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The whispers and stares she had endured throughout the day still lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over her thoughts.

“My lady, you look absolutely radiant,” her lady-in-waiting said, fixing the final pin in her hair.

“Thank you, Liora,” Euphemia replied with a soft smile. “It is beautiful work.”

Just as she began to relax, the door to her chamber opened, and Adlyn, strode in. He glanced around the room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the scene, but there was a warmth in his gaze that belied his serious demeanor.

“Leave us,” he commanded the maids, who quickly curtsied and exited the room, leaving the siblings alone.

“Adlyn,” Euphemia began, but he cut her off with a firm raised hand.

“Euphemia, you must understand the importance of this night,” he said, his voice resolute. “Your return to court is not merely a personal matter. It is a matter of our family’s honor and standing. You must shut down these rumors and reassert your place in court.”

She sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “I know, Adlyn. But it’s not easy. The things they say…”

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are stronger than you realize, sister. You have always been a beacon of grace and dignity. And there is another matter. Your relationship with Cregan must be mended. The hand´s support is crucial.”

Euphemia’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Lord Stark is attending? I haven’t seen him all day. Where is he?”

“He has been working in his office, dealing with important matters of the realm.” he answered

Euphemia nodded slowly in agreement. “I will do what I must. But, Adlyn, you must promise me something.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

“Promise me that we will find a way to honor our family without sacrificing your own or anyone else's happiness,” she said, her voice steady but pleading.

Adlyn’s stern demeanor softened further, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “I promise, Euphemia. But first, you must attend the ball and show them all the strength and grace of our house.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening. “I will, Adlyn.”

Adlyn's gaze softened even more as he looked at his sister, adorned in her splendid gown. “You look absolutely stunning, Euphemia. Your presence alone will silence many of those whispers. They cannot help but be captivated by your grace and beauty.”

Euphemia blushed slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Adlyn. Your words mean a great deal to me.”

With a final glance in the mirror, she left her chamber, ready to step into the ballroom and reclaim her place in the world she had once known so well.

—----------------------

The ballroom was a dazzling display of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembly of nobles, their rich attire creating a sea of vibrant colors and shimmering fabrics. Music filled the air, and the scent of roses and fine food wafted through the room. Lords and Ladies of many houses could be spotted introducing themselves and greeting the royal couple.

Euphemia descended the grand staircase holding her brother's arm, feeling eyes turn toward her. Whispers and murmurs rose as she made her entrance, but she held her head high, her expression serene.

They moved gracefully through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, determined to show no sign of the turmoil within. As they approached the throne where the king and queen were seated, they both did a deep bow to the couple. The young children of the royal couple returned a courtly nod, still visibly affected by the Dance that had impacted House Targaryen.

The winners of the tourneys were soon summoned, and they stepped forward to claim their appointed Queens of Love and Beauty. Each champion approached their chosen lady with a graceful bow, extending their hands to invite them for a dance. The room watched with bated breath as the tradition unfolded, the air thick with anticipation and admiration.

Euphemia stood at the edge of the gathering, observing the pageantry with a mixture of admiration and longing. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Cregan standing before her, his expression softened by a warm, earnest smile.

“Lady Tyrell,” he began, his voice steady and kind. “May I have this dance?”

She hesitated for a moment, memories of their previous discord lingering in her mind. But the sincerity in his eyes and the gentle strength of his presence reassured her. She placed her hand in his, and he led her to the center of the ballroom.

As they took their places, the musicians struck up a harmonious tune, and the dance began. Cregan guided her gracefully across the floor, their movements synchronized and fluid. The murmurs and whispers in her head faded into the background, leaving only the music and the rhythm of their steps.

“I owe you an apology,” Euphemia said softly as they danced. “I acted out of anger and grief, and I regret the rift it has caused between us.”

Cregan’s gaze softened, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. These are difficult times for all of us. But we are stronger together, and I want to put this behind us.”

She nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. “Thank you, my Lord. Your support means more to me than you know.”

As they continued to dance, the court watched in awe. The once turbulent rumors seemed to dissipate, replaced by admiration for Euphemia’s grace and poise. 

The dance ended, and Cregan bowed deeply to her. Euphemia returned the gesture with a graceful curtsy, her heart lightened by the reconciliation. And as they parted, Cregan noticed the smirks and snickers of his friends.

“Your time here has turned you into a true southerner, my lord,” one of them commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Good thing we’re returning home on the morrow,” Cregan replied, trying to maintain his composure as he chugged his wine, hoping to calm his nerves.

“She really has you in her grasp, doesn’t she, son? I’ve never seen you visibly shiver like that,” Lord Mormont added, his voice low and mocking.

“Can’t blame the lad. Have you seen her? In that piece of silk she calls a dress, she’s a living torment. I saw her today at the sept, praying like a good, devoted follower, while she carries herself as the embodiment of a siren at night.”

“Why are you lusting after her like a starved dog? She already has a thing with the Lannister,” a third friend chimed in, giving his friend a harsh push.

“What?” Cregan’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing .

“She apparently lived her childhood there as a ward. While there was never a confirmed betrothal to Leonore, everyone knows he’ll be the one to take her as bride.”

Cregan’s blood began to boil. Losing her meant losing the treaty for the North. That sly fox of Highgarden had misled him. Cregan could not hope for any aid if the marriage pact was not honored, and he couldn't take revenge anymore by marching his army across Westeros and the Reach to cleanse the lands of remaining supporters of the usurper. Blinded by rage, Cregan marched to Adlyn, his steps heavy with purpose, requesting a private word. Adlyn followed, his face a mask of concern, praying it had nothing to do with whatever his sister might have said.

“You liar,” Cregan hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“My lord?” Adlyn replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The betrothal. With the Lannister,” 

“What? No, you misunderstand—” Adlyn began, but Cregan cut him off.

“You take me for a fool? You think you can just break your word to me and get away with it? I let you off the hook the first time, but now it is war.”

“What do you mean by bethroting the Lannister? If that is what you want with yourself, you can just go and ask Tyland and leave me be. I have little influence there, friend,” Adlyn said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his unease.

Cregan’s hands itched to lash out at Adlyn´s fake innocence, to punch that pretty face, to burn his lands, to take his sister as a war prize, but he restrained himself, opting to finish this fight with the same fire the southerners played with.

“You lied to me about your sister’s hand. She is already set to marry the heir of Casterly Rock.”

“Leonore? No, no. I mean, Father intended for it, and I suppose if I hadn’t promised her to you, I would have given her to him, but there was no actual promise made to them. Cregan, she is yours, just as we discussed,” Adlyn said, his voice earnest, his eyes wide with sincerity.

“Then why do people still spread rumors of them?” Cregan demanded, his voice rising.

“This is court. People love to spark fights they can’t extinguish. Besides except for us and Crayn, there really isn’t anyone I have told,” Adlyn replied, his voice calming, hoping to soothe Cregan’s anger.

“She doesn’t know?” Cregan asked, his voice now quieter, but still tinged with anger.

“I wanted to tell her, believe me, but I feared making her upset. While a marriage with the house Stark is an honor, I suppose she preferred a marriage that wouldn’t drift her far from home. That’s why Father was keen on marrying her to the Lannister. She was a ward there, her dearest companion is his sister, and she and Leonore get along. It might have been a marriage filled with love.” he explained 

“Are you implying that I am responsible for an upcoming ruin in her life?” Cregan’s voice was low, dangerous.

“Possibly. But a marriage with Leonore would only serve her. I might have allowed that if I had many others in my house to make use of, but I don’t. My child is unborn, my brother is already married to the Hightower to keep Old Town under supervision. So, it is on her to do her part in serving our house and the realm,” Adlyn said, his voice firm but not unkind.

“What of the Lannisters?” Cregan asked, his voice softer now.

“They love her whether she is married to them or not, and therefore they love us. Furthermore, she’ll prevent bloodshed in their lands, so I think they owe her gratitude,” Adlyn explained, his voice calming, trying to diffuse the tension.

“So, when will you announce it? Our betrothal?” Cregan asked, his voice steady but demanding.

“I was hoping to depart with you to the North for the Great Harvest festival before the winter and announce it there. The later she knows, the easier she’ll accept it,” Adlyn replied, his voice steady but his eyes once again betraying his concern.

“I don’t care about you protecting your relationship with her. I want it announced tonight in front of everyone, or I’ll have His Grace announce it in your stead,” Cregan smirked, turning on his heel and leaving Adlyn with no chance to protest.

 —----------------------------------------------------

The grand hall was filled with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as the nobility of the kingdom gathered for the annual midsummer feast. Tapestries adorned the walls, and chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the assembled guests. Adlyn, standing at the head of the room, tapped his glass with a silver spoon, the chime drawing the room to a hushed silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Adlyn began, his voice carrying with the authority and ease of one accustomed to command. "I have an announcement of great importance to make this evening."

Euphemia, standing beside him, smiled politely, unaware of the storm about to break over her head. Her delicate fingers played with the edge of her gown, her mind wandering to the music and laughter echoing through the hall.

"Tonight," Adlyn continued, his eyes scanning the crowd before resting on Euphemia, "I am pleased to announce the betrothal of the Lord Hand Cregan Stark and the Lady Euphemia Tyrell."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. The hall erupted into applause and cheers, but Euphemia stood frozen, her smile faltering only for a moment. Inside, her heart raced and her mind struggled to process the shock, but she quickly composed herself, maintaining a calm and graceful facade.

Adlyn leaned in, whispering, "It is for the best, Euphemia. Please, trust me."

Euphemia's lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. She nodded subtly, acknowledging the congratulations of those around her, while a tempest of emotions churned within. Hurt, betrayal, and confusion welled up, but she swallowed it all, determined to uphold the decorum expected of her.

Cregan, who had been standing quietly by, looked at her with a mixture of triumph and concern. He reached for her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Euphemia," he said softly, "this union will strengthen our families and our kingdom. It is an honor."

Euphemia's eyes met his, her smile never wavering. "Of course, my Lord. I am... honored." Her voice was steady, though her heart was not.

The room's atmosphere remained jubilant, the guests blissfully unaware of the turmoil beneath Euphemia's composed exterior. She moved through the throng of well-wishers, accepting their congratulations with grace, while her thoughts spiraled inward.

"How could they decide this without me?" she pondered silently, her heart aching. "How could they assume I would agree without even asking?"

Her inner turmoil was a stark contrast to the celebratory air of the evening. The weight of the decision made on her behalf pressed heavily on her, but she knew better than to show discontent.

As the feast continued, Euphemia found a quiet moment to herself, stepping out onto a balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens. The cool night air was a balm to her heated thoughts.

Adlyn approached her, his expression softening. "Euphemia," he said gently, "I know this is sudden, but it is for the greater good."

Euphemia turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You could have asked me, Adlyn. You could have considered my feelings."

"I thought you would understand," Adlyn replied, his voice tinged with regret.

"I understand duty," Euphemia said quietly, "but I also understand respect. I wish you had shown me that."

With that, she turned back to the gardens, her calm exterior belying the storm within. She knew she would face the future and move on , but the wound of this night would not soon heal. 

For the rest of the night, Euphemia played her part perfectly, expressing her contentment with the marriage and sharing dances with Cregan that were all but stiff and cold. Each step was measured, each smile a mask. She even found a moment to approach the Lannisters, offering her apologies for any perceived slights and successfully earning their forgiveness. 

When the ball finally drew to a close, Euphemia excused herself, her facade cracking as soon as she was out of sight. She fled back to her chambers, the tears she had held back all evening finally spilling over. She collapsed onto the floor, weeping into the plush carpet, the weight of the night's betrayal too much to bear.

It wasn't until her lady-in-waiting, Liora, found her that she stirred. Liora gently helped her out of her uncomfortable gown and into bed. "My lady," Liora whispered, her voice full of concern, "you must rest."

Euphemia nodded weakly, her tears subsiding as exhaustion took over. "Thank you, Liora," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

As she finally drifted off to sleep, Euphemia clung to the hope that tomorrow would bring clarity, even as the pain of betrayal lingered in her heart.

Euphemia's sleep was sadly cut short by a harsh knock at her chamber door. Groggy and disoriented, she whispered for her guard, Ser Wayne, but received no answer. With trepidation, she stood and opened the door, only to find Cregan standing before her.

Cregan's gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in her swollen eyes, a clear indication of her grief, and her nightgown, which left her in a somewhat indecent state. He quickly turned his back to her before speaking.

"The king wishes to see you," he said curtly. "The young man cannot seem to fall asleep. He has been plagued by nightmares," I assume. 

"And what can I offer my lord?" she asked curiously, fearing that the king wished for her to warm his bed

"Your singing," he replied, "I thought that might sedate him."

"Of course," she continued, relieved, "please allow me to fetch a proper gown and a chaperone."

"You think I will allow anyone else to witness the king in this state?" Cregan yelled quietly, turning back to her, taking off his coat and handing it to her. "You must come alone and now."

Euphemia hesitated but knew better than to argue. She took the coat and draped it over herself, its warmth providing little comfort but enough decency. As soon as she was covered, Cregan grabbed her wrist and led her through the dimly lit halls.

The journey felt interminable, each echoing step amplifying her anxiety. She struggled to keep pace with Cregan's brisk stride, her mind racing with worry of being caught and having her virtue but to question 

Finally, they reached the king's chambers. Cregan paused outside the door, his grip on her wrist loosening slightly. "Do your best to calm him," he instructed, his tone softer now. "The king needs his rest,"

Euphemia nodded, her heart aching with the sight of the troubled child. She gently stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The young king was huddled alone on the large bed, eyes wide with fear.

"Mother," the king's weary voice called from a nearby chair, his face etched with concern, mistaking her for his dead mother. "I miss you mommy."

Euphemia gave a small, respectful bow before approaching the bed. She sat down on the edge, cradling the boy and began to hum a soothing lullaby, her voice soft and melodic. The child's tense body began to relax, his eyes growing heavy as her song filled the room.

As she sang, Cregan felt a surge of tenderness. Despite having outgrown his childhood, Cregan felt yearning for joining them and laying his head on her tender breasts.

When the song ended, the king was sound asleep, their nightmares banished for the night. Euphemia stood and turned to the Cregan, who snapped from his absurd thoughts and gave her a grateful nod.

"Thank you, Lady Euphemia," he whispered. "You have done us all a great service."

With a final nod, Euphemia quietly left the room, Cregan followed her just outside, grabbed her wrist once again and escorted her back to her chambers, neither of them speaking a word. As they reached her door, he finally broke the silence.

"You did well tonight," he said, his voice devoid of its usual sternness.

Euphemia merely nodded, too exhausted to respond. She slipped back into her room, closing the door softly behind her. Alone once more, she allowed herself a quiet reflection before finally succumbing to sleep, hoping for a respite from the day's emotional upheaval.

[dreamerwithapen1]

Cerelle Lannister + Official Teaser Poster

The Lion’s blood flows within me.

It will not be tamed so easily.

Forever Tag: @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic  @bravelittleflower @darkwolf76 @peopleralunique @stareyedplanet @thophil2941btw @ocappreciationtag

(Want to be added to my taglist? Send me an ask or message!)

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x son!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

summary: rhaegon asks his father for help.

warnings: ALLUSIONS TO INCEST, allusions to sex, daemon saying the c word a lot, daemon is a supportive dad, he also gives the birds and bees talk, it's kinda fluff.

author's note: based on this ask i got a time ago, luv you nonnie <3

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon au masterlist here

gif by @hopemikaelsongf

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Since Viserra's third name day celebration, Prince Rhaegon has been with a girl living on his thoughts.

Lord Lannister's daughter, Cerelle, caused quite a lot of damage to his heart.

Her beautiful golden locks and blue eyes were stuck in his head like the sweetest memory.

In his bones, Rhaegon felt like he needed to have her.

Fortunately, at the age of 18, he could marry someone if he wanted to.

His parents wouldn't refuse the idea of marriage if he suggested, he knew they married when they were younger than he is now.

But how to approach them? He found it to be very uncomfortable to talk about women with his mother, so his father was the one to have this kind of conversation with.

And in the best scenario, his father would encourage him, and talk to his mother in his place.

And that's why, he is trying to find the right words, while he and Daemon are both riding horses on a hunt in the middle of the Kingswood.

"Father," Rhaegon voiced, getting off his horse "there's something I wish to talk about."

"Shhh, you are going to frighten the stags." Daemon scolded him, getting off his black stallion.

"Yeah, I know. But what I have to say is important" Rhaegon scratched his neck nervously.

Daemon frowned, "It can't wait until we are back to the camp?" his son shook his head.

"It's about a lady." The older prince opened a large smirk. It wasn't the first time they had this kind of talk.

Rhaegon has been doing it since he was younger, every time he had a crush on a different lady.

Daemon dealt with this better than you ever did.

One time, Rhaegon told you he was in love with his sister's young Septa. The next day, you changed Alyssa's septa to a much older one. The boy thought she looked like a frog.

Since then, he has never talked about women with you ever again.

But between young septas and handmaids that Rhaegon easily fell in love with, this time he was really off his feet.

"Really? Is it really a lady this time?" Daemon chuckled as Rhaegon rolled his eyes.

"Yes, it is. In fact, it's Cerelle Lannister, Lord Jason's daughter." Rhaegon answered.

"Could you not have picked someone better? I doubt you want that cunt as your in law." The Rogue Prince sat under a tree and his son did the same.

"I don't. But I do want his daughter to be my wife." The young prince blurted out.

Daemon couldn't believe his ears. He turned to face his son, and with a large grin, he asked;

"So it's time?"

Rhaegon laughed out loud. He expected a different reaction from his father.

"Yes, father. I think it is. But you should be the one to talk to mother about it, I don't want her making a big deal out of it. And also, Lord Lannister..."

"You know your mother, she's going to do it as she pleases. But I'll send a raven to Jason. He won't refuse this betrothal, but I can't promise he will like you. That cunt hates me, I'm sure he will do the same with you once you wed his daughter."

Rhaegon nodded. That wasn't a problem for him. What is a lion compared to a dragon?

"But are you really ready for marriage? Because it comes with pressure. You know our line must go on, and I would like for our blood to remain pure. I don't think there's anyone better for your sister than you, and I don't want her to end up with someone lower than her." Daemon sighed. His parents were siblings, and he wanted for his children to be betrothed, just like his parents were.

"I definitely don't want to marry Alyssa, and I'm sure she would hate the idea too. Besides, you could marry her to Daeron, so the bloodline would remain pure, and she'd be marrying into royalty."

"I rather watch Caraxes eat her whole than marry her to Alicent's kin." Daemon grumbled, "And I am serious about the pressure. You need to have heirs. Once Rhaenyra ascends to the throne, she will make me Prince of Dragonstone again, and you will be my heir."

"I know, father! It is my duty, but I don't need to be reminded of it all the time!" Rhaegon scowled.

"But you do! Do you even know how to–" Daemon started, but the young prince cutted his father off.

"Yes! It is not because I'm not like Aegon, who practically lives on pleasure houses, that I have never fucked anyone. Just send the raven to Lord Lannister, and keep mother from making a scene. I want Cerelle to be mine."

"Fine." Daemon nodded, "I'm happy for you, son."

[queen--kenobi]

Day Eight: Threesome

Aemond Targaryen x OC (Elayna Reyne) x Cerelle Lannister

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Warnings: NSFT (mff threesome, fem!receiving oral, dirty talk)

“You need to learn what battles to pick.” Elayna has a wicked glint in her eyes. “Cerelle and I have been fucking for years.”

The unspoken threat makes his lips twitch. She knows what bringing his pride into this will do. The urge to shut her up by kissing her nearly overtakes him.

“Remember, Targaryen. You can't kiss her.” Cerelle speaks from her spot on the chaise she's lounging on, watching them. She takes a sip of her wine. 

Aemond dips his head to mouth at the skin of her neck. He hates the feeling of Cerelle's eyes on him, hates the very obvious fact she's judging him. The urge to suck and bite until Elayna has a large hickey nearly consumes him, but Elayna grabs his hair and pulls his head back before he can. 

“I said no hickies.” Her voice comes out a low growl. “You don't deserve to do that to me.”

Normally, Aemond would find her tone annoying but something about the context makes his skin feel warm. He still scoffs at her. 

“And yet, here we are.”

Elayna's nostrils flare. Aemond stares evenly back at her. He expects her to kiss him now, even though both she and Cerelle explicitly stated that wasn't on the table. Instead, she begins to pull back and away from him, lips curling.

“Darling.” Cerelle finally speaks. Her voice doesn't diffuse the tension entirely but eases it a small amount. Elayna turns her head easily to look at her. Aemond sneers. “Come here.”

Elayna disentangles herself from him easily. She follows Cerelle's instructions without question or second thought. The observation sends an almost violent pang of jealousy through him; the realization even when they were at their best she never completely surrendered to him as she does to Cerelle almost burning him. He watches in open envy as Elayna drops to her knees without question at a simple motion from Cerelle.

Cerelle moves her gaze away from Elayna to him. 

“Guess we're doing it my way.” Cerelle smiles at him, a little more teeth than polite. She gestures for Elayna to come forward with a single finger.

“Cerelle...” Elayna balks. She stays where she is, a frown creeping onto her face. Cerelle raises a perfect eyebrow. Elayna swallows. After another moment of hesitation, she lowers herself to all fours and begins to crawl to Cerelle. Cerelle looks at Aemond. When their gazes meet, Aemond nods. 

Elayna stops when she reaches Cerelle. Cerelle brings one hand up to Elayna’s head and smoothes her hand over her hair. Aemond pads up behind Elayna. He waits until his cue, Cerelle parting her legs and Elayna leaning forward, to sink down to his knees behind Elayna. Elayna starts to turn her head, but Cerelle quickly captures her chin.

“You want to be good, right?” She presses her thumb to Elayna’s lips. “Then you know what to do.”

Cerelle moves so Elayna can truly get in between her legs, her dress riding up her thighs. Elayna places both her hands on either side of Cerelle before leaning forward and pressing a series of kisses from Cerelle's knees and up her thighs. Aemond takes hold of Elayna’s hips and pulls them back. The movement makes Elayna yelp. Cerelle laughs. Aemond presses a hand to the center of Elayna’s shoulders to force her to push her hips further back. 

When Elayna tries to sit back up, Cerelle stops her.

“I don't think so.” She purrs. “Here's how this is going to go. You're going to eat me out while our... guest fucks you. If you do well enough, I'll finish the job we know he can't do and make sure you come.”

Aemond glowers at Cerelle. She smirks in return, an infuriating response. Aemond wants to wipe it completely off her face. He flips up Elayna’s dress far more violently than he needs to. Elayna squeaks. In response, she parts her legs more and presses forward. Cerelle's breath hitches as Elayna resumes her previous actions of kissing Cerelle's thighs. Aemond sees Elayna’s wearing a thong and lets out a low noise of praise. He palms her ass, suppressing the urge to slap her ass. Cerelle wouldn't take kindly to it. Aemond's eye flicks up to Cerelle. Her eyes are closed, a pleased expression on her face as her chest heaves. She threads her fingers through Elayna's hair.

Elayna moves her hands up further Cerelle's legs, pushing Cerelle's dress up more. Aemond sits back. He does rip Elayna’s thong from her. His hands dip down, and he groans when he finds how wet she is. Elayna pushes her hips further back towards him. Without thinking about it, Aemond shuffles backwards. He plans to exploit every weakness of hers. 

He can't hear the moan Elayna lets out when he buries his face into her from behind. Aemond knows she does; Cerelle gasps in response. Elayna finally moves her mouth over Cerelle's center, although she hasn't moved Cerelle's underwear to the side. Aemond flicks his tongue against Elayna’s clit. He groans appreciatively at the taste of her; it'd been a while since they done this. He's missed this, missed the smell and taste of her. 

The room falls silent except for all three of their moans. The scent of sex permeates the air. Elayna eventually pushes Cerelle's lingerie to the side, and Aemond doubles his efforts. He doesn't care if Cerelle gets anything out of this; he just wants Cerelle to know he can pleasure Elayna. Elayna rocks her hips back. Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She sighs and moans, keeping Elayna’s head in place. 

When Aemond moves one hand up and slips a finger into her, Elayna gasps. Her whole body tightens. Aemond can't see her thighs but feels one tremble in his free hand. He adds a second one not long after. This time, he hears Elayna moan proper. He brings his head up to see Elayna’s head resting on Cerelle's thigh. Her lips part. He can see Cerelle on Elayna’s lips, and even though it isn't his, the sight is erotic.

Aemond dives back in. His free hand drifts down to his pants, and he unbuckles them for some relief. 

“You better not being getting yourself off. I said nothing about your pleasure.”

[queen--kenobi]

Also I made this a bit ago, and I'm super proud of it so! Here you go!

[queen--kenobi]

Prompts by the beloved @ewanmitchellcrumbs!

Day twelve: candlelight and collaring, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day thirteen: presents and praise kink, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day fourteen: blizzard and blowjobs, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day fifteen: mulled wine and mutual masturbation, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day sixteen: fireplace and face fucking, Aemond Targaryen x OC (Tymon Lannister)

Day seventeen: tinsel and dirty talk, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day eighteen: board games and breath play, OC x OC (Tymon Lannister x Alia Oakheart)

Day nineteen: holly and hair pulling, Cerelle Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day twenty: stockings and sex toys, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day twenty one: dressing up and dry humping, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day twenty two: party and position changes, Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Day twenty three: home videos and voyuerism, Aemond Targaryen x OC (Elayna Reyne) + Aemond Targaryen x OC (Tymon Lannister)

[queen--kenobi]

Kinktober Day Twenty Four: Dom/sub dynamic

Cerelle Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Warnings: nothing really? Established D/s and implied f!receiving oral, but that's it

Cerelle sighs softly. Everyone else finally left for the night, leaving just her and Elayna together. The day had been difficult and rather long, and while Cerelle normally could deal with everything with grace, her limits were tested today.

Elayna watches her from the other side of the room. She waits patiently, both hands folded neatly in her lap. Cerelle takes a moment to examine Elayna from afar. Elayna raises an eyebrow but, to her credit, says nothing. Perhaps Cerelle's irritation had been more evident than she thought.

Cerelle gestures with one finger for Elayna to come over to her. Elayna does so without hesitation, padding across the room. The only sounds are the crackle of the fire place and the faint sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Elayna stops just short of Cerelle, hands clasped in front of her. She keeps her gaze slightly downcast, although she looks at Cerelle from underneath her eyelashes.

Cerelle waits. She lets an agonizing minute pass before she points down.

Elayna's knee hit the furs on the ground with a soft sound. When Cerelle crooks her finger, Elayna shuffles her way over until she sits by Cerelle's feet. Cerelle opts not to say anything about the fact Elayna didn't crawl on all fours; tonight wasn't going to be that sort of night. Elayna rests her head against Cerelle's leg, and Cerelle hums. She brings one hand down to gently scratch Elayna's scalp. Elayna presses closer to her.

“Good girl.” Cerelle speaks almost absent-mindedly, the first sentence she's said to Elayna since everyone else left. Elayna preens at the praise. She lets her head fully rest against Cerelle's thigh. Cerelle can't feel Elayna's skin against hers because of her skirts, but the gesture still eases her mind.

“Thank you.”

Cerelle's lips twitch. Oftentimes, she has to remind Elayna to thank her for a compliment. Of course, most days Elayna seems intent on getting herself into trouble; today seems to be an exception. Maybe she's just reading Cerelle's mood. For all Elayna is a brat, she can be considerate when the mood strikes her.

She could pursue this line and see what happens. Condescending praise is one of the easier ways to rile Elayna up, but Cerelle decides not to do so. She has no desire to ruin the serenity of the moment. Elayna tilts her head, and Cerelle sweeps some of Elayna’s hair back over her shoulder. The light touch makes Elayna shiver. She tilts her head up slightly and gives Cerelle a look that falls just short of pure innocence. Cerelle raises an eyebrow.

“If you want something, you need to use your words.”

Elayna's cheeks actually turn a beautiful shade of pink. She tries to look away, but Cerelle quickly takes hold of Elayna’s chin.

“And look me in the eyes when you do.”

Elayna nods. A slightly glassy look begins to overtake her face.

“I... I want to use my mouth on you.”

Cerelle leans back in her chair. Briefly, she entertains the idea of teasing Elayna more. Some days, all she wants is to see Elayna desperate and squirming, but today isn't one of those days. Instead, she gently pats her lap. Elayna quickly stands up and slips into Cerelle's lap, eyes dark with desire. Cerelle tilts Elayna's chin once more.

“Warm me up?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

[queen--kenobi]

Kinktober Day Nineteen: Strap-ons

Cerelle Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Warnings: NSFT (wlw, strap ons, blow jobs, PiV?)

Cerelle sighs breathily. She can't feel any sensation, but the sight in front of her is beyond erotic.

Elayna lays on her back, entirely naked with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her nipples are abused from Cerelle's earlier minstrations; Cerelle flicks her forefinger and thumb over the still sensitive flesh. Elayna’s hips jerk, and she tries to moan.

Cerelle's strap prevents her from fully doing so.

Elayna's throat bulges from it. She's trying her best to deepthroat the entire thing, but an inch or two evades her reach. Cerelle brings her hand back up and presses down lightly where she sees the outline of her strap. Elayna splutters. Cerelle takes mercy on her and pulls her hips back. Thick strands of spit connect the strap to Elayna’s mouth. 

Elayna gasps for air, eyes red rimmed from unshed tears. She whines at the loss.

“Why'd you stop?” Her voice comes out raspy. Cerelle smirks and gently wipes at Elayna’s mouth. 

“Hands and knees.” She orders. Elayna awkwardly but eagerly complies. Cerelle slips onto the bed behind her. She runs the head of her strap through Elayna's folds several times, making sure to bump Elayna's clit at the top. Elayna looks over her shoulder at Cerelle. She downright pouts.

“Don't tease.”

“But it's quite fun.” Cerelle leans forward. She captures Elayna’s lips in an almost tender kiss before sitting back up. She eases herself into Elayna, softly chuckling when Elayna’s head falls forward. She thrusts slowly, and Elayna keens. The noise is one of the most beautiful Cerelle has ever heard. She wants, no needs, to hear it again and again. Cerelle pulls her hips back and pushes forward again. Elayna keens again. 

Cerelle hums her approval and drops her lips to Elayna’s shoulder. The soft kiss is all the tenderness Elayna will get. Cerelle intends to leave Elayna a wreck.

[queen--kenobi]

Kinktober Day Twelve: Role Reversal

Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne)

Warnings: brat taming, spanking

“Don't be a brat.”

Cerelle pauses. Panic builds in Elayna, making her chest tighten. An apology sits on her tongue. Instead of freaking out Cerelle huffs. She glares at Elayna, but her cheeks are a shade of pink Elayna's never seen on her. Eventually, she composes herself, arching an eyebrow.

“And? What of it?”

Oh. Elayna's never been on the receiving end of this. If she herself hadn't acted out so many times, she might not know what to do. Elayna gives her a cold and calculating look. Cerelle raises her eyebrow even higher. The lack of response unnerved her, given the slight fidget she develops. 

“I suppose I shall be forced to punish you.”

Cerelle lets out a bark of laughter. She gives Elayna an almost disbelieving smirk. 

“Pray tell. How exactly do you plan on doing that?

Elayna doesn't say a word; she merely gestures for Cerelle to come closer. Cerelle does. She stays just out of Elayna’s reach, a challenging glint in her eye. She wants Elayna to get her, wants to irritate Elayna enough she succumbs. 

Elayna raises an eyebrow. 

“The longer you wait, the worse your punishment will be.”

“I'm not afraid of a mere spanking.” Cerelle about sneers.

“Oh really? Then why haven't you come over and accepted your punishment?”

Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. Cerelle stands still. She looks stunned, as if she didn't expect Elayna to trap her so quickly. After a second, she tosses her head side to side and exhales. 

“Fine. Since you're so insistent.”

Cerelle steps forward. Elayna stops her just short of actually touching her.

“Strip.”

“You cannot be serious.”

Elayna doesn't budge. Cerelle actually stomps her foot.

“You cannot!”

“I was planning on starting with 5, but if you keep up, it'll be 10.”

Cerelle stares. Her nostrils flare. Eventually, she begins working the laces of her dress with a huff. Elayna takes mercy up her and helps her with the fabric. Once all of Cerelle's clothes sit in a pool at her feet, Elayna sits back down. Cerelle turns back to face her. Elayna expects hesitancies, but Cerelle stares at her with a challenge in her eyes. 

Elayna points to her lap. After a moment's hesitation, she comes over and lays across Elayna’s lap. 

“Ten?”

Cerelle lurches forward at the first strike. Elayna rubs the spot gently. Cerelle glares at her over her shoulder, but Elayna sees the pink tinge in her cheeks.

“One.” Cerelle spits out.

“Good girl.” Elayna murmurs. She drags her fingers over Cerelle's ass, grinning when she shifts. 

Cerelle yelps at the second strike.

Four strikes in, Cerelle squirms in Elayna’s hold. It's more than her being uncomfortable, she clenches her thighs together. Elayna hums and dips her finger between Cerelle's folds. Cerelle lurches forward. Elayna laughs softly.

“Is this exciting you?” Elayna brings her fingers in front of Cerelle's face. Cerelle's essence clings to her fingers. Cerelle actually lets out a whimper at the sight. When Elayna returns her hand to Cerelle's ass, she actually parts her legs a little. 

The moan Cerelle lets out when Elayna slaps her cunt sends liquid arousal through her. Elayna wants, no, needs, to hear the sound again. Cerelle shifts back and forth, seeking relief. She gasps when Elayna actually dips her finger into Cerelle. It's brief, just a tease, but a desperate aura surrounds her.

“5 more. 5 more, and then you'll get a reward.” Elayna murmurs. “Can you do that?”

“I know I can.”

[queen--kenobi]

Wheel of Fortune: Prologue

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Catching the attention of Prince Aemond may make her someone. But is it the person she wants to be?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Elayna Reyne), Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne), OC (Tymon Lannister) x OFC (Elayna Reyne)

Chapter summary: News finds its way to Elayna. Some of it is good but most of it is bad. Elayna learns when it rains, it pours.

Chapter warnings: implied NSFT (wlw action, BDSM themes, D/s dynamics), discussions of domestic violence, some suicidal ideation, and sexual harassment. Also Tymon. Yeah, a lot for a prologue I know.

Author's note: Hi hello it's finally here! I know it's taken 5ever and a day, but it's here! I'm so excited to introduce everyone to Elayna in canon and Tymon as well. I want to thank @writingbylee for being my cheerleader and helping me since day one with Elayna you have no idea how much that means to me. I also want to thank @baba-fett and @emilykaldwen for being willing to listen to me try and figure all this out

Waves crash against the unyielding cliffside.

Elayna sighs. She looks down to the waters below. Jagged rocks stick up from the ocean, the edges sharp and dangerous despite the weathering. Elayna tilts her head. In the dying light, the areas where the rocks cluster almost look like teeth to her, the giant gaping maw of an unknown beast.

What would it be like to die upon those rocks?

What would it be like to kill someone upon the rocks? How long would someone suffer in the blistering sun and salty air? Would they die upon impact, or would it break their back and render them immobile, unable to stop the slow creeping of the Stranger?

She bites the inside of her lip. The pain stops the morbid thoughts, she finds. More and more as of late, her brain keeps coming back to them. They circle her brain like vultures awaiting the dying. Elayna closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Some days, she cannot tell if she wishes to kill or be killed. She thinks it is the latter of the two. She has no true wish to die, only to escape her suffering. Her life has become a prison she cannot escape from no matter how much she tries.

Then again. Is it truly a prison when she has willingly given her captor the keys? When the prison is of her own making?

She exhales. She pauses and rubs her face. 

If only she could talk to Cerelle. If only she could make her see...

“Elayna!”

The familiar voice makes Elayna's hairs stand on end. Elayna wants to ignore him. Maybe he'll go away if she pretends he isn't there. Of course, it has never stopped him before, so why would it now? Slowly, Elayna lifts her head.

Tymon walks towards her. He seems to be in a good mood. A smile graces his features. The wind blows his hair gently. Elayna looks at his eyes. His eyes turn first when he's angry; he can keep the smile up and make it seem genuine even when his eyes make it clear he wants nothing more than to commit an act of unspeakable violence just by looking him in the eye. His jaw betrays him next. 

His smile is always the last thing to go. 

“Tymon.” Elayna tries her best to answer his smile. She tries to force it to reach her eyes. It feels too tight, too fake. A surge of panic overtakes her. What if he sees it's fake? Will he ignore it? Will he pretend to not see it until he can use her lack of enthusiasm against her? What if it provokes his ire? She blinks. Her eyes must show her fear, she can't have that. 

Tymon laughs. When Elayna opens her eyes, she sees him holding his hands up. 

“Woah.” He sounds as if he is calming down a spooked horse, not a human being. She can hear the clear amusement in his tone. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek. She cannot sneer at him; no one else is around, and she is too close to the edge of the parapet. Despite her early thoughts, Elayna has no desire to be pushed off the castle.

“I did not mean to startle you. My sincerest apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just under the impression I was alone.”

“One might begin to think you want to be alone.” Tymon stops right beside her. The sleeve of his doublet almost brushes against the sleeve of her dress. Elayna's skin crawls. “I noticed you left particularly early.”

“I needed some fresh air is all.” Elayna looks out towards the sea. “I spoke with Jeyne Marbrand. The incense they use in their Sept must be quite... strong.”

Elayna sniffs delicately as if to prove her point. Tymon lets out a small chuckle. He places his forearms on the low wall. 

“Yes, I have noticed that as well.” Tymon turns his head to the side. His green eyes inspect her. “Where is Cerelle? I thought if I found you, I might find her.”

Elayna swallows.

“Cerelle is talking with one of the Tarbeck daughters, I believe.” Gods above, she hates she knows this. “There's talk of one of them being brought in as one of Tyshara's ladies.”

Tymon hums. He looks back out to the ocean once more. He inches his forearm towards her. Elayna tries to subtly move her arm away. She reaches up and adjusts her necklace before placing her arm down. 

“Mother spoke to me today.” 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “What did the two of you speak about?”

“Many things.” Tymon fidgets with one of the many rings on his fingers. “Mostly of the future.”

Elayna nods. Within a fortnight, Cerelle and Tymon would be celebrating their eight and tenth name day. The feast tonight kicks off the events to follow. The future looms large over everything now; all the politics and planning finally moving into action. A bitter, acrid taste surges into Elayna’s mouth. For all that Johanna cares about Cerelle, she will also use her, as is the way. A son ensures the line while a daughter ensures treaties and potential comfort in old age. 

She knows what will most likely become of Cerelle, but she has no idea what awaits her. For years, she and Cerelle would joke about having to find two brothers to marry. Naturally, Cerelle would marry the eldest and Elayna the younger. Elayna presses her lips together. She gazes at the far away horizon, feeling as if she herself is as much of a distance away from her own body as the horizon. Those plans... Well. They were no more.

She hears shifting, the rustle of clothes against the stone wall. Elayna forces herself back into her body. She turns her head. Tymon now stands with his back to the wall, facing away from the sea and into the courtyard. He crosses his arms.

“The plan is for you to accompany Cerelle to King's Landing when we leave.” 

“I'm aware.” Elayna tries to keep her tone pleasant. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Tymon turns his head to look at her. He evaluates her for a long moment. 

“Did you hear that from my mother or sister?”

“Cerelle told me. Why?”

Tymon smirks. “Then you don't know the good news yet.”

“Good news?” Elayna huffs a laugh. “Let me guess. Your father found an uninhabited island and named it after Cerelle?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You're right, that is ridiculous. He named it after Tyshara.”

Tymon rolls his eyes. “I am the first born son.”

“Yes, but I've been under the impression islands are she's. On account of them being pretty to look at.” Elayna sees a brief flash of irritation on Tymon's face. “So the good news is not an island.”

“No, it isn't an island. That would be excellent news, but this is better.”

“Better than an island? Hmm. Dalton Greyjoy dying. Ideally a slow and incredibly painful death.”

“Alas. One can only wish.”

“Cerelle is betrothed to a Hightower? Is that it?”

Tymon scoffs. Elayna bites the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. As dangerous as it can be, she does enjoy annoying Tymon. He thinks himself to be so smart, to the point he corrects anyone he deems lower than himself. Yet, somehow, he falls into every single conversational trap she creates. It's almost as if he can't help it; he has to try to make someone else look like an idiot, even at the expense of making a fool of himself. 

The apple never falls far from the tree.

“No. It is not Cerelle marrying a Hightower.” Tymon sniffs almost delicately. Annoyance laces every word. Elayna has no doubt in her mind if she pushes more, she will push too far. Normally, she might relish in the chance to pick a fight. Instead, she decides to play nice. “I'm sure mother has higher ambitions for her.”

“What is the good news, then?”

Tymon looks at Elayna. His gaze feels intense. Elayna looks back at him. 

“Once Cerelle is settled and has found a husband, mother suggested you might come back. With us.”

Elayna's heart doesn't just sink; it plummets. It drops from her chest to her stomach the same way a boulder falls from a cliff. 

“I'm... I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Elayna.” Tymon smiles, and for the first time, his smile itself scares her. “Isn't this what you wanted? I would think so, given all the times you have tormented and teased me. Finally, Mother has come to her senses about everything as well.”

“Tymon, I genuinely do not know what you're talking about.”

Tymon sighs. It's one of the most patronizing sounds Elayna has heard. It makes her skin crawl and jaw tighten.

“Mother wants to ensure you and Cerelle have ample time together before Cerelle is married. Once Cerelle is settled, our betrothal will be made official and announced.”

Elayna instantly regrets not jumping off the castle and onto the rocks below. A sour, bitter taste floods her mouth. She stares at him. 

“We're...?”

“To be married. Do keep up, Elayna. I cannot have a wife who is slow on the upkeep.”

Elayna's years of practice prevent her from snarling at him. Her upper lip still twitches. Her jaw clenches. She glares daggers at him. 

“I'm not slow!” She pauses. Tymon gives her a look as if he might hit her should she say more. “I am merely... surprised. I wouldn't have thought I would have been a contender.”

“I thought my fondness for you was evident.” Tymon tilts his head. He almost seems genuinely confused as to why Elayna doesn't understand. “ ‘Tis a good match.”

“Surely there are better matches. One of the Lefford's daughters per-”

Elayna's next words are muffled. Tymon surges forward and kisses her. The beginnings of his beard feel rough and unpleasant against her skin, as do his lips. He takes advantage of her parted lips to try and slip his tongue into her mouth. It feels wet and gross against hers, almost slimy. An unpleasant shiver runs up her spine. Elayna clamps her teeth down on his tongue. She means it as a warning bite.

It works.

Tymon pulls away, fury blazing in his eyes. His smile drops.

“Tymon. I don't... this isn't appropriate!” Elayna hisses. “Nothing has even been announced or made official, you cannot just kiss me like that.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do. Your reputation may not be at stake but mine is.”

Tymon stares at her, his expression unreadable. Elayna's chest heaves. 

“Why would your reputation be ruined? Everyone knows you are mine and mine alone.” He reaches forward and attempts to touch her face. Elayna jerks backwards and away from him. 

“Tymon.” 

Both Elayna and Tymon turn towards the sound of the voice. Tymon scowls. Cerelle stands on the parapet as well. She looks radiant, the setting sun lighting her in beautiful hues. Cerelle has her father's hair and eyes but everything else about her comes from her mother, down to the cold expression she wears.

“Cerelle.” Tymon greets. His tone matches the coolness of Cerelle's face. “I was wondering where you were.”

“So you thought to seek Elayna out?” She steps forward. Tymon’s upper lip twitches, but he manages to wrangle it under control at the last second. Elayna takes the welcome distraction and begins to put some distance between herself and Tymon.

“Yes, well. The two of you are close.”

He makes it sound almost disgusting. Elayna glares at him. Still, she doesn't say anything, not wishing to draw his attention to her. Cerelle tilts her head. A perfectly curled ringlet of blonde hair falls into her face. 

“Elayna is not my keeper.” She sounds as if she wants to laugh.

“No, but you are Elayna's.” 

Cerelle raises an eyebrow. “Speak plainly. If you have an issue with my relationship with my ladies-in-waiting, say so and be done with it."

Tymon lifts both his hands in the air. He chuckles softly, a sly smirk making its way onto his face. 

“I meant no offense, dearest sister.” He lowers his hands. 

“I take offense to your actions, not your words.” Cerelle steps forward. Her gait remains surprisingly steady. Elayna knows, though. She sees the barely repressed anger and tense jaw, the way Cerelle clenches both her hands into fists for the briefest of seconds before clasping her hands in front of her, the flare of Cerelle's nostrils as she nearly stalks towards her brother. 

“My actions?”

“Yes. Your actions. Mother has made it explicitly clear you are not to be alone with Elayna. Yet you openly defy her and seek out Elayna when I am busy.”

Tymon swallows. Elayna sees his Adam's apple bob. She takes advantage of his surprise and almost scurries over to Cerelle. Cerelle seemingly doesn't react to her presence.

Tymon stares at his sister for a long moment. Cerelle stares evenly back at him, her steely gaze not dissimilar to Johanna’s. Tymon must make some sort of expression because after a long minute, Cerelle's brow furrows. She raises one eyebrow. The left side of her mouth lifts slightly, not quite into a sneer but certainly a scoff. Annoyance rolls off of Tymon. His hands clench into fists for a second before he thinks better of it.

“Very well.” Tymon tries to sound pleasant, as if he's truly deferring to his sister. The blazing storm in his eyes says otherwise. He bows his head. “I shall do as instructed. Do try to not hog all of my future wife's time.”

He turns on his heel and heads towards the other set of stairs. Elayna watches him from her place behind Cerelle. She waits until he disappears from sight to speak.

“Thank you.” Elayna murmurs. She tries to effuse her gratitude into every word. Cerelle tries to keep her steady gaze. Despite her efforts, her expression softens, the hard edges of her jaw easing and forehead relaxing. 

“I cannot rescue you all the time.”

“I know. I don't expect you too.”

Elayna steps forward. Cerelle does as well. 

“Mother wants to see us as well. After she talks to Tymon.”

Cerelle stands torn. Elayna sees it clear as day. Cerelle refuses to close the distance, but with each passing moment, her posture relaxes some. 

Elayna moves first. She steps closer to Cerelle, stopping two paces away. 

“I'm still mad at you.” Cerelle looks away as she speaks.

“I know. I made a mess of things.”

“I'm not going to forgive you easily.”

Elayna steps closer. She could reach out and touch Cerelle if she wants to but opts not to do so.

“How would you like me to apologize?” Elayna looks around for a second. The two of them are alone. “I've been told I have a silvertongue when it comes to apologies.”

Cerelle's stern exterior fully breaks. She blushes. Red rises from her neck to her cheeks.

“Elayna!” She hisses. “Not here.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing that here.”

Cerelle finally closes the distance between them. She reaches out and loops her arm through Elayna's. 

“We should get back to the feast.” Cerelle lightly traces a finger down Elayna's forearm. “If we don't, they'll come looking.”

“Whatever my Lady desires.”

The look on Cerelle's face sends a pleasant tingle along Elayna's spine. Cerelle hums. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling victorious. Cerelle's expression no doubt means a delightful night lies ahead of them, one Elayna imagines many women only dream of happening to them. Her own eight and ten name day is still several moons away yet many ladies have taken to giving her womanly advice. She cannot bite or scratch for too much passion may scare her husband, and it is unseemly to mark him with her nails and teeth. He may mark her as he wishes, though. His pleasure must occur; some women say she can experience it while others say she must not. Do not get on top for he will get sick since to do so is an abomination and sin. He must never look at her nether region except for when he slides into her.

All the rules make her want to laugh. While she cannot say she has experience with men beyond a kiss, she doubts the rules. If they are true, men have weak constitutions.

Cerelle never complains about her being on top or whose pleasure comes before the others. Cerelle never cares if Elayna’s mouth finds its way to Cerelle's lips or clit. Truth be told, she seems to enjoy the act quite a lot. Cerelle does prefer Elayna not mark her; Elayna has no qualms about being marked so long as it isn't visible. 

Despite her gender, Elayna finds herself performing more husbandly duties than most men. The only rule existing between them is they must not break their maidenheads. It is the only thing their husbands may have before them. 

Elayna's greed knows no bounds; everything a husband could take is hers except for that one thing. The same goes for Cerelle. She owns everything except Elayna's maidenhead. Elayna can only dream of that happening.

“Perhaps I will need you tonight. I would like to spend time with my boon companion.”

“I am always at your service.”

They begin to walk towards the stairs. Cerelle's grip keeps Elayna close, as if she thinks Elayna would go far. Elayna would never. If she could, Elayna would chain herself to Cerelle. She would put a collar around her neck like a hound and hand Cerelle the lead. She wonders if it would surprise Cerelle but doubts it would; Elayna often kneels at Cerelle's feet and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Behave.” Cerelle squeezes Elayna's arm. Elayna starts. She gazes at Cerelle with wide eyes. 

 “I am!”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally?” Cerelle clicks her tongue. 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you learn to read minds?”

“I didn't. I just know yours well.” 

The two of them finally enter the turret. Elayna listens in case someone is coming up the stairs. She sees and hears no one. Before Cerelle can lead them down the stairs, Elayna maneuvers them towards the wall. As soon as Cerelle's back is against the stones, Elayna pounces.

Cerelle's lips slot against hers perfectly. Cerelle squeaks in surprise, which makes Elayna grin into the kiss. Cerelle quickly recovers. Elayna groans when Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She avoids Elayna's intricate braids, instead opting for the thick, brown curly hair at the base of Elayna’s skull. Those strands of hair being messy can be explained away; her braids falling out of place can't be. Elayna braces herself. She places one forearm on the wall by Cerelle's head. Her other hand rests on the bodice of Cerelle's gown. She wants nothing more than to ruck up Cerelle's skirts and trace the creamy expanse of skin she knows lies under the red silk. Caution makes her stop. Fabrics wrinkle all too easily. 

Still, Elayna can only be cautious for so long. She inches her hand upward, fingers grazing the underside of Cerelle's breasts. The motion makes Cerelle stop. She digs her fingers hard into Elayna’s hair, her nails nearly digging into Elayna’s scalp. She pulls Elayna's head back. Elayna isn't sure if the sound escaping her mouth is from pleasure or pain. 

“No.” Cerelle's chest heaves. She doesn't look angry, despite her tone. “You aren't forgiven yet.”

Elayna pouts. 

“How am I to be forgiven if you won't give me a chance?”

“You have to earn forgiveness. Me giving you what you want will only reinforce your terrible behavior.” 

“You speak of me as a dog.” 

“Perhaps if you behaved, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”

“I am not a dog.” Elayna huffs. Cerelle arches a perfect eyebrow. She lets go of Elayna’s hair.

“Oh? What are you then?”

“Is not a dog not enough?”

Cerelle snorts. Despite her derision, Elayna sees the fondness in Cerelle's expression.

“No. You are not a dog. They can be taught manners.” Cerelle hums. A devious smirk appears on her lips. “You're a kitten. You refuse to listen and learn, you act as if you're above the rules, and you believe if you want it, it is yours. However, you don't have the claws nor teeth to back your attitude up.”

Elayna stares at Cerelle, wide eyed. She opens her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound comes out. She feels hot, not just her face but her entire body. Her breath comes in short bursts. 

“I...”

“Yes?” Cerelle tilts her head. “You what?”

“You... you...”

“Is my kitten having trouble finding her words?” Cerelle grabs Elayna's chin and forces Elayna to look at her. “Answer me.”

“You're so... so mean.” Elayna whines. She tries to bury her face in the crook of Cerelle's neck to hide her embarrassment. Cerelle's grip on her chin prevents her from doing so. Cerelle clicks her tongue in mock sympathy, a direct contrast to the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

“Behave tonight, and I might just let you find out how mean I can really be.”

She lets go of Elayna’s chin. Her blue eyes meet Elayna’s hazel ones. Cerelle seeks reassurance, from the way she looks over Elayna to make sure what transpired is truly alright to the way she frowns when she sees the small red indentations from her nails on Elayna’s chin. Elayna smiles. She presses her forehead to Cerelle's. Both of them close their eyes. They stay still for a moment, breath falling into line with the other's.

“You promise?”

Elayna opens her eyes and grins. Cerelle's eyes fly open. She stares coolly at Elayna. Elayna tries her best not to laugh. 

“I would be careful if I were you.”

“But what if I want you to make me regret it?”

“Then you cannot complain later.”

The sound of footsteps makes both girls back away from each other. Cerelle smooths out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand while Elayna checks her hair. None of her braids appear to be loose. She tucks the small amount of hair Cerelle accidentally removed from the carefully done hairstyle and stuffs the ends as best she can into her braids and held up hair. The two look at each other. Elayna scans Cerelle and nods. Cerelle does the same for Elayna.

“Shall we join the others?” Elayna offers her arm to Cerelle.

“I think it best.”

In the whirlwind of the feast, Elayna forgets about having to speak with Johanna. She spends most of the night dancing and laughing. No one yet knows of her creeping fate; Elayna takes advantage of this fact. Truth be told, she refuses to imagine what her future looks like. Instead, she decides to enjoy the moment. 

The moment includes Elayna staying with Cerelle as the first night of festivities begin to wind down. They don't even bother to come up with an excuse if they're questioned; it's happened a million times before after a feast and will no doubt happen again. Everyone knows the two are inseparable. 

“Elayna.” Cerelle murmurs from the dark. They lay in bed together, Cerelle pressing up against Elayna from behind. One of her arms lightly rests over Elayna's hips.

“Yes?” 

“You have yet to make good on your promise and apologize to me. Properly.”

Elayna hums. She rolls over to face Cerelle. They both wait for a second.

“I suppose I can.”

*****************

“I don't want to marry Tymon.”

Elayna knows not the hour. She assumes early since the darkness seems almost oppressive. Elayna rests her head just underneath Cerelle's bare breasts. Cerelle sits mostly upright, lounging on some pillows. One of her hands rests on Elayna’s head, fingers gently intertwining into Elayna’s dark curls. 

“You must.” Cerelle gently scratches Elayna's scalp in a comforting gesture. A tinge of sadness colors Cerelle's tone, though. Elayna buries her face into Cerelle's soft curves. She takes a moment to find her words, tasting each one on her tongue. 

“He scares me, Cerelle. He scares me so much. I... I worry he means to harm me.”

Cerelle sighs. The bed creaks. Cerelle brings one hand down and places her fingers underneath Elayna's chin. She tilts Elayna's head up so she can look at her. 

“He would harm you if you were betrothed to another.” Cerelle speaks bluntly. She never minces words when it comes to important things. “I hope Mother and Father realize this. Perhaps this is their way of mitigating damage. If you don't marry, violence is inevitable. If you do marry, mayhaps it will be... limited.” 

“I doubt it.” Elayna frowns. She looks away into the darkness. Cerelle gives her that luxury. “He doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. He just sees me as an object to own.”

“Most men see their wives like that.”

“I know that! But... I sometimes...”

“You sometimes what?” Impatience bleeds into Cerelle's tone. 

“It feels as if he sees me as little more than a broodmare for prized horses.” 

Cerelle doesn't say anything. She neither confirms nor denies Elayna's accusations. Instead, she takes a strand of Elayna’s hair between her fingers and gently plays with it. Elayna lowers her head. She shuffles up the bed some, intent on placing her head on Cerelle's chest to hear her heart beat.

“I can't save you all the time.”

“I'm not asking that of you.” Elayna huffs. “I can rescue myself if need be. I'm just... I'm frightened, Cerelle.” 

Elayna's whole body trembles. Cerelle shushes her. She places her hand back on Elayna’s head. Elayna tries to relax into Cerelle's embrace; her body refuses to obey her commands. Every part of her tenses. Cerelle sighs. The sheets shift, a whisper of silk, as Cerelle reaches down with her free hand and takes Elayna's hand in her own. 

Elayna waits for Cerelle to say something, anything. She waits for words of comfort. Cerelle stays silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Cerelle sits up some and presses a kiss to the top of Elayna’s head. 

“Go to sleep, Elayna. We can talk about these matters in the morning.”

****************

Johanna calls for them after breakfast.

Thankfully, the two of them were already decent. Three years of practice means their timing is down to an art. No one ever expresses any suspicion.

“Cerelle. Elayna.” Johanna looks between the two of them. The pair sit opposite Johanna. Elayna’s back stands ramrod straight while Cerelle almost leans back in her chair. “ ‘Tis time to begin looking at the future. The Lord Lannister and I have discussed this, and we have come up with a plan.”

Elayna and Cerelle exchange a look. Elayna raises an eyebrow to which Cerelle blinks. Johanna watches them.

“One of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting injured herself badly, to the point she must retire and go back to her family. Truly a shame what happened to her. Rumors are she is now a cripple. Despite how unfortunate this is, a princess should never be without.” Johanna meets Cerelle's eyes. “I have arranged for you to be one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. She needs someone more confident than she, and I know you will serve her faithfully. Elayna, of course, will follow as one of your ladies.”

“We're going to King's Landing?” Cerelle grins. She looks to Elayna, eyes glittering with hope. Elayna grins softly in return.

“Yes.” Johanna nods. “Even though you are one of the Princess's ladies, I do expect you to spend time with your uncle. He will be able to provide valuable instruction. Your father would have sent you earlier, but now I believe you will be able to fully grasp any advice given to you.” Johanna turns her attention to Elayna. Elayna almost wants to shrink back. “You, of course, will ensure Cerelle's comfort and safety. I also think it would behoove you to accompany her when she visits with Tyland. You may learn things as well.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Johanna places her hands in her lap. “Cerelle. You're dismissed. I wish Elayna to sit with me a while.”

Cerelle and Elayna exchange looks. Elayna doesn't move, even as Cerelle does. 

“Mother.”

“Cerelle.”

Cerelle takes her leave then. Elayna adjusts her position in her chair. 

“Tymon spoke with me.” Elayna watches Johanna. Before she takes a sip, Johanna indicates with a gesture for Elayna to be poured a goblet.

“Did he?”

“He said you spoke to him about a betrothal. Of him and me.” Elayna tries her best not to pout or look too sullen. 

“Your father will accompany us when we go to King's Landing. Jason or I will suggest the idea then.”

Elayna frowns. She leans back in her seat. Johanna sets her goblet down. 

“Elinor. If you would leave us.”

The servant curtsies before leaving. Elayna waits to hear the soft close of the doorway to the servant's quarters. Johanna eyes Elayna. Her hands rest in her lap. 

“Do you not wish to marry Tymon?” 

“ ‘Tis not that! I'm just... I don't mean to question you, but I do not see how I am the appropriate choice.”

“Tymon will need someone who can reign him in once he is in charge. Someone practical who knows the ins and outs of this place.” Johanna takes a drink from her goblet. Elayna tries not to fidget and keep her hands still. “Even if he were not set on you, you are the best choice. Whether you recognize it or not, you are everything but a Lannister in name. ‘Tis time that changes.”

Elayna purses her lips. She bites down on her tongue to keep herself from saying the immediate thought in her mind. Truthfully, she does not want this marriage; she wants no marriage as of now. It is inevitable, she knows. Elayna is acutely aware of this fact. It doesn't ease her mind on the topic. 

Johanna stares Elayna down once more. Eventually, she places her goblet down with a sigh.

“ ‘Tis time for you to grow up.” Elayna nearly flinches at Johanna’s steely tone. “I know of you and my daughter. I have... indulged you both and kept your secret, but it cannot go on any longer. You both have your duties. I will not let our reputation be tarnished because you refuse to give up antics more suited to young girls. Indiscretions like this do not go on for several years nor do they go as far as it has. The time for that is over.” 

Elayna trembles. Fear courses through her body.

“I understand, my Lady. Forgive me.”

“I keep this quiet not for you but for Cerelle.” Johanna’s nostrils flare. “I do not agree with what the two of you have done in the slightest. I recognize the impulse, but it cannot continue.”

Elayna dips her head. She feels frozen, stuck to her chair even though she wants nothing more than to run. Johanna clearly sees it. She leans forward and places a hand on Elayna’s knee.

“If you were a man, it would be done. Cerelle deserves a loyal husband. I meant it when I said you were one of us.” Johanna’s voice softens for the briefest of moments. When she pushes back to her full height, the harshness returns. “But you are not a man. It can't continue.”

“It can't. It won't continue.” The words taste bitter. 

Johanna leans back in her seat. She picks up her goblet again. 

“Good. To prove your commitment and to show you keep your word, you have a task. You are to target Prince Aemond. Find out what he likes, what he dislikes. Learn everything you can about him. Then, you will feed this information to Cerelle. I can't ask for a betrothal outright. The future is too uncertain. I can, however, obtain it other ways. When you come back, you will be betrothed to Tymon and marry him.”

Elayna nods.

“Are we in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Elayna blinks back tears. She clears her throat and poorly suppresses a sniffle. She inhales. 

Lifting her head is the hardest thing she's ever done. 

“We are in agreement.”

Johanna smiles. It doesn't meet her eyes; it's a socially expected smile. Her lips stay too close together, and her eyes blaze.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

[ladybug023]

Cerelle and Ser Whiskers Commission

Art by @swanlambb

[ladybug023]

Cerelle every time Aemond starts flirting with her mom: