#Drunken Dragon Inn

[the-fiction-witch]

I Love This Maiden

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - (OC) Ellisa Rating - 18 + Mommy kink / breast play / breast sucking / bread feeding / milk drinking / comfort kink Word Count - 1234

Requested -

AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!

I AM BEGGING FOR THE OTHER PART OF THE BREASTFEEDING AEGON PLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE

I submitted a request/idea like this to another writer but I will not keep this like head canon idea type thing to myself........ Aegon is 100% the type to love his girl breastfeeding him... him being all stressed and angry or sad from the council not listening to him and Alicent being cruel and everything and he just wants to lay his head in her lap and latch his mouth onto her nipple and drink in her sweet milk... it makes him feel at peace... makes him feel wanted and loved and special

Aegon had already been drinking before the night had even come to pass, the wine had been warming his stomach since breakfast with his wife. But now that night had fallen over Kings Landing, he had gathered his regular companions and gone down the usual route. Stopping by, a few inns and taverns all graciously serving the king before, of course, ending the night in one of the brothels down the street of silk. Aegon almost always went to this brothel, he liked the owner's prices and he liked the many sorts of girls who worked there.

One more than others,

Ellisa sat on her bed lounging in the candlelight, dressed in her sheet blue gown with two high slits for her legs, the top of the dress wrapped around the choker at her neck, her long hair cascading down her back.

Laughter erupted from outside in the hallway and the curtain was pulled open revealing Aegon and his companions arm in arm and falling over each other drunk,

“Ah!” Aegon smiled raising his glass, “Ellisa, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” he stumbled over falling to his knees on her bed,

“I’ve been here,” She shrugged, “as I always am,”

“Indeed,” he cooed, moving closer and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers,

“You’re grace, are you sure you do not wish for me to find you-” One of his companion boys came closer,

Aegon wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulder and tapped his hand against the boy's tender cheek, “Fuck off Marcello,” He chuckled,

“Yes your grace,” Marcello nodded leaving the room and taking the other of Aegon’s companions with him leaving Aegon and Ellisa alone,

“... Gods know how I have missed you,” He cooed, a tone of clarity even though his drunkenness,

“As have I you, your grace,” She smiled,

He grimaced, “No…” he shook his head, “Not here, not with you.”

“Of course, Forgive me.”

“You always are.” He smiled kissing her cheek,

She nodded, “Come here then my sweet boy,” She cooed opening her arms,

He happily moved closer and curled up in her arms, his legs over her lap, his head resting against her shoulder, a soft and gentle smile across his lips as she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle and caring embrace,

“So tell me, what has my sweet boy been up to these last few days?” she cooed,

“Well, I attended my royal coronation,” He sighed,

“I saw, you were very handsome,” she smiled stroking his back,

“I was?” he looked up with hope in his eyes,

“Very handsome,” she nodded, “I was very proud of you,”

His tears began to well up in his eyes, “Proud of me…” he muttered,

“I’m always proud of you sweet boy,” she smiled,

“...Thank you, Mommy,” He whispered,

“You’re welcome,” She cooed, “Now, what else have you been up to?”

“Humm… been attending a whole bunch of small council meetings,”

“Ohh, council meetings,”

“It’s all just preparations and precautions with my half-sister and all.” he sighed running his fingers gently through her hair,

“Yes, of course, very important matters to attend to,” she nodded, “Still all very big business for such a sweet boy,” she smiled kissing his forehead,

“You take such good care of me,” He cooed, “My sweet mommy,”

“I know what will cheer you up,” she smiled, “How about… we get you nice and relaxed? Would you like that my sweet boy?” She softly stroked his cheek,

He nodded,

“Use your words, you're a big boy now Aegon.”

“Yes please Mommy,” He nodded,

“Perfect,” She cooed, giving his cheek a little pinch before she moved her hands away and untied the dress from around her choker, the dress slowly fell to her waist revealing her skin in the warmth of the candlelight, her large bare breasts exposed to the air,

“Which side may I mommy?”

“The left today, sweet boy,”

He nodded and softly prepared gentle kisses down her neck, leaving tender bites against her throat, slowly he moved down her chest before reaching the nipple of her left breast, he softly kissed it a few times, pressing kisses around the nipple. He gently and slowly flicked his tounge against her nipple to harden it before finally he locked his lips around the nipple and began his gentle and slow sucks,

“Not too quickly now, we don’t want you to get hiccups.” She reminds,

But he didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently sucked until he let out a soft groan as he tasted her milk, he quickly swallowed and began to suck harder.

“Such a sweet boy, being so soft and gentle for Mommy,” she cooed stroking his cheek,

He nodded as he continued to suckle, his hands around her waist playing with her hair looping and knotting it around his fingers as he drank,

Ellisa only smiled wrapping her arms around him and gently rocking them both back and forth like you would a newborn as they feed, and softly she began to sing,

“I loved a maid as sweet as spring, with flowers in her hair. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair. I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair.”

Aegon softly pulled away from her nipple and rested his head against her chest smiling up at her, “But I love this maiden most of all, for she is as sweet as springtime flowers. As far as the summer sun. She is better than a sunset sea and of Moonglow Moore. I love this maiden in my arms, and I shall until I fall.” he softly sang, “And I do… I do truly love you Ellisa,”

“As I you, Aegon,” she cooed giving his lips a soft and tender kiss, “You should get back to the keep sweet boy, they will wonder where you are.”

He sighed but nodded, slowly sitting up and fixing his clothes a little. “I wish I could keep you in my arms for all time, you are far kinder to me than you have any need to be. Even my own mother is not as kind to me as you,”

“Well, I’m always here if you need me, no matter what.”

“I need you.” He said taking her hand, “I need you always.”

“You must go your grace,” she reminds,

“I must…” he sighed, “I will be back to visit again soon,”

“I look forward to it,” she smiled squeezing his hand before he got to his feet,

But he turned back before their hands broke apart, “If anything is coming, anything is to happen. I will send word as soon as I know, I will send men and they will protect you. Take you far from danger. I swear this to you Ellisa.” He said falling to his knees at her bedside,

“Sweet boy,” She cooed stroking his cheek, “My place is here, with you. And I will stay here by your side until the long night claims us all,”

“You mean it?”

“I do,” she nodded,

“You have… alot of faith in me.”

“Of course I do sweet boy,” she smiled kissing his forehead, “I have nothing but faith in you.”

He smiled and softly kissed her hand before kissing her lips once more, “I’ll see you soon,”

“I’ll see you soon,” she nodded,

Before Aegon sighed, got to his feet and left to head back to the Keep. 

[stories-and-stars]

Traveling Mages

Traveling towards Crocus to Malba City the weather took a turn for the worse. The small town inn she could see off the road seemed to have a lively atmosphere despite the downpour and darkness outside. She hoped to get more ground covered that day but given as she couldn't see much past her feet, she turned towards the smaller stone path.

Most people inside she determined were other travelers doing the same. The warmth of the hearth floating through the tavern and the smell of ale hitting her nose. Walking towards the bar, a different earthy musk hit her senses, one of cedar and cypress. She ordered a smooth whiskey before turning to find an empty side table somewhere. One nestled off to the right was lit dimly by a small lacrama, the weight off her feet felt better than she expected setting her travel bag down. Simply watching the ramble of people dancing and laughing as the bard, who made some decent change off the already drunk crowd, was amusing enough for the evening. A large figure strolled past to a bench just beside the fire, the scent of cedar and cypress she discovered belonged to him. Nearly intoxicating with the whiskey intensifying the feeling washing over her, her eyes lingered on him while his attention was not on her for the moment. He sat with an ale in his hand, an impassive expression matching his sharp features. His blonde hair slightly damp and a large coat hanging from his shoulders, she guessed he was another traveler. She tore her eyes away from him, pulling out a journal. Checking a map for tomorrow's travel, a small picture slipped out and he noticed it fall from the corner of his eye. A vibrant young woman with h/c hair draped over her shoulders, arms wrapped around a smaller blue haired woman. Both beaming brightly with smiles large enough to make anyone smile, including him in that moment. A slender hand swiped it off the floor before he could make out more details. He followed the dark fabric of her sleeve to the same long h/c hair in the photo swaying lightly, The same vibrant light has long left her features. She tucks the hair behind her ear, a few gold pieces of jewelry adorning her ear as he tries to make out what they are. Her features are older than in the photo but graceful. She was younger then, he thinks to himself and turns his eyes back to the music before she sees him staring. The drunken group and the warmth of the fire slowly bringing his demeanor up from the darker feelings he constantly fights in his thoughts. Trying to focus on bettering himself after his banishment from Fairy Tail, knowing it can't be forced and he can't control it is something that frustrates him from time to time, but continues on his travels to grow himself nevertheless. She looks up from picking up the photo to see a small smile grace the man's now softened face, watching the merry bunch sing loudly in the middle. A small smile crosses her own lips as she sees her friend In the photo. Searching for her in her years of traveling and hoping to somehow come across each other again. The smile leaving as quickly as it came remembering the night they got separated, when the bandits attacked the small town they both called home. y/n knew her friend had escaped but didn't know where they had managed to go. y/n simply became a nomad from that point, she had wanted to mainly travel when she got older anyway but didn't think it would start the way it did. As the crowd died down, she leaves her seat to pay for a room from the inn keeper. The cedar scent catching her senses again before she disappears down the hall. He did the same shortly after he finished his last ale. The room small but comfortable, a lacrama illuminates a small table next to a bed. He almost doesn't fit on it with his height, Sleep does not find him easily and his dragon slayer ears pick up on the quiet scratching of pen on parchment in the room next to his. The calming scent of lavender drifts in from somewhere and lulls him to sleep finally.

The next day she completes her short trek to the nearby town large enough have a train station. She was able to secure a seat to Malba and hopped on the next train out. Seated by a window to enjoy the sun on her face, The landscape rolls by. Malba is supposed to be known for its outdoor market place and scenery, she was very intrigued to walk through. Hoping to pick up a silver trinket she could carry with her. He boarded the train with a small bag in hand, A specific herb Porlyusica asked him to bring to Malba for a friend of theirs. Someone both She and His grandfather knew from the start of the guild, specialized in plants from what he could remember. Walking down the middle isle, that same scent of lavender hit his nose. The h/c haired woman at the tavern. Curious of her intention, he laid back a row and planned on waiting to see if this was anything more than coincidence. Lost in her thoughts for a moment she didn't see the blonde mage that had sat a row behind. He quickly realized she was oblivious the her surroundings looking out the window. Cute, he thought before shaking it away.

She deboards as its nearly dusk but there's enough time to stroll through the stalls still out in the market. Laxus only tails her for a moment off the train until he can tell she's not paying attention to him. He delivers the bag and finds out that this man is named Warrod and started Fairy Tail with the others he'd learned about, Including his Great grandfather, Who Warrod commented Laxus looked very similar to. As he walked back to the town center and a found a local bar to get something to eat at, he passed by the same area the stalls had been. He didn't pick up her scent since he'd parted to go to Worrad's, he thought no more of it. After enjoying his food he straightened himself on his bench seat to feel a sharp point of metal and a sly voice behind him.

" Hey there, wouldn't move much further back if I were you" Slipped off her tongue in a flirty voice.

" Don't threaten me with a good time" He jested in return. How he hadn't picked up on her being there made him reel for a second. She'd concealed her presence to him and skillfully so. His rumbling, deep voice washed over her and she nearly lost concentration. Regaining her bearings she leaned closer to him.

" Why follow me to the market?" She said quietly, her hot breath hitting his ear and neck. She couldn't see the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

" Thought you were following me, went on my way after I thought you hadn't noticed me" He turned his head to bring her into peripheral. She lowered the dagger concealed by cloak fabric, he made no move to sit forward. She slid herself around to be seated next to him.

" Names y/n, Apologies but I can't be too careful. Seems you had the same idea though" She extended a small hand from under the draped cloth.

" Laxus" His hand slid gently around hers, the touch felt conductive.

[flowerandblood]

Song from the Sea

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, angst, smut, domination]

[description: Aemond and Aegon arrive in the Iron Islands, to confirm the arrangements made years ago and the marriage of Lord Greyjoy's daughter to Aemond. (Anon Request) During a break on a long journey, at one of the taverns Aegon drags him to, Aemond meets a woman, who will change his life forever. (Anon Request) Smut, angst, sexual tension, domination.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The Iron Islands seemed to Aemond the ugliest place on earth that he had ever seen in his life. His future wife was from these regions. His father made a pact with Dalton Greyjoy years ago, thus securing a monopoly on the importation and trade of dragonglass and many other goods that could enrich the kingdom.

He and Aegon were to fly there to confirm the arrangements made several years ago and to set the date of the wedding, which was proposed by the king himself. He tried not to listen to the ironic tone of his drunken brother, whom he had just nursed at one of the inns, where he insisted that they stay during their journey on the dragon's back.

“Apparently all iron women have beards, brother, because they are half men. They're blunt and big, talk low and don't comb their hair, probably don't wash either. But well, you're so devoted to your family so you'll surely do what's right for the kingdom." He grunted as he sipped his beer from his big metal mug. They were both in cloaks with hoods over their heads.

Aemond carefully watched what was happening around, wanting to make sure that no one recognized them. He begged Aegon to continue their journey, but Aegon brushed him off, saying that he could go alone and he would join him later.

Aemond had promised his mother that he would not let Aegon humiliate the king in the eyes of the Ironborn, and he had to make sure that nothing uncontrollable happened. He pursed his lips at his words.

"Yes. I, unlike you, know what duty is." He hissed low, looking around. He turned his gaze quickly towards the front door as he heard it open with a loud creak of wood. Several hooded figures entered.

Two of them were quite elderly men, one with a long, white beard and an earring, the other completely shaven and covered in disturbing tattoos. The third figure was a woman, her waist-length, dark hair partially tied back, unruly curls around her face.

Her face was pale, her eyes seemed golden to him from a distance. She was a head shorter than both men. They were both talking to her quickly, apparently treating her as their companion, not a kidnapped maiden from a good family.

The three of them approached the counter, talking to the owner who greeted them cheerfully, obviously knowing them well, squeezing the men's hands. After placing their order, they approached one of the tables which was already occupied.

The men sitting there nodded and just stood up without a word, obviously fearing or respecting them. The three of them sat down, undressing. Only now did Aemond see that the girl was dressed similarly to him, in tight, leather, simple black outfit, consisting of a jacket and trousers.

"Are you even listening to me?" Aegon mumbled after his third beer. Aemond grunted, turning to face him, looking down at him.

"That's enough. We're leaving." He said, getting up.

He feared that the strangers who had just graced the inn might recognize them or be Lord Greyjoy's men. He didn't want any misunderstandings that he was a drunkard like his brother. Aegon, however, laughed at his words, his eyes clouded and thoughtless.

"You're leaving. And I stay." He purred, raising his hand, indicating to his host that he wanted another beer. Aemond grabbed him by the fabric of his cloak and hauled him up, but Aegon began to struggle and kick.

"Stop it, gods, don't act like an animal!" Aemond hissed, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the three strangers who were now watching them warily, concerned.

He cursed mentally, knowing, that they had already drawn attention to themselves. His older brother did not give up and broke free after a moment.

"I'm staying here. I have the right to rest after eight fucking hours on a dragon back." He sputtered in his drunken voice, and several people turned their heads in their direction.

Aemond squeezed his eye shut and shook his head, furious. He decided that if any assassin wanted to kill them now, it was his brother fault. He decided that he had had enough and approached the counter, furious, asking for a beer himself. He couldn't bear to look at it all soberly.

He heard footsteps and the rotted, wooden floor kneaded beneath them. The girl he had noticed earlier stood now next to him. The host approached her, smiling from under his slightly reddish hair.

"What's for you, sweetie?" He asked in a soft, slightly hoarse tone.

"I'd like a round for this lord at my expense." She said calmly, her voice surprisingly pleasant and graceful.

Aemond felt uneasy and looked at her dispassionately, his right hand close to his belt, where his dagger was strapped. She looked at him. Indeed, her eyes were a light, warm color, brown and gold, piercing, large. Her black eyebrows and eyelashes framed her beautifully pale face. She turned her head, looking curious.

"I don't envy you, comrade. Is this your younger or older brother?" She asked softly, genuine, unforced curiosity in her tone.

Aemond stared at her blankly, wondering why he should answer her at all. However, he felt a kind of discomfort at the thought she had immediately guessed that they were related.

"How can you be sure that he's my brother?" He asked low, dispassionate, almost in frustration.

The girl gave him a pearly laugh, glancing at Aegon. He was talking to one of the innkeepers who was wiping down the table next to him.

"You can only have so much patience with your own siblings." She said amusedly, glancing at him again, her gaze warm, her face expressing surprising cordiality. He thought that he did not trust her and that she must want something from him.

"I won't give you gold if that's what you mean. I don't have much of it with me either." He grunted, taking a sip of the beer that his host had just placed in front of him. The girl laughed again, leaning back against the counter, facing him, looking at him with a satisfied smile.

"I don't want your gold. Here, in the Iron Islands, we don't care much for it. We get what we want ourselves. You can give me something else that I desire." She said, looking at him in such a way that his throat tightened.

He thought that she didn't meant it. Involuntarily, his gaze traveled over her body, to her clearly defined breasts hidden under the jacket, her compressed waist, her round hips. He returned his gaze to her face, which was bright and soft. Her beauty wasn't vulgar or intense, it didn't seem to fit who she was, or how she was dressed. Seeing her up close, he thought they were about the same age.

"What do you want?" He finally asked coldly, pressing his lips together, tired of this exchange. He knew that he should leave, sit next to Aegon, wait until he fell asleep, and just carry him out.

But there was something in her eyes, in her words, that drew him in. The women of King's Landing, even if they were interested in him, would never dare approach him willingly.

They feared him, his eyepatch that covered his missing eye, his scar, his stony face, his deadly gaze, his clenched fists.

The girl tilted her head to the side, her cheeks warm and red from the small amount of alcohol that she had already drunk.

"Come upstairs with me. By the time we're done, your brother will fall asleep here, on the table." She spoke softly, almost silky, her lips slightly parted. He felt his manhood pulsate hard in his trousers at her words. He couldn't take his eye off her lips.

"So your friends can kidnap him or kill him?" He hissed, looking into her eyes again, annoyed that she had tried to fool him in such a primitive way. The girl sighed.

"My father serves Lord Greyjoy as his vassal. I wouldn't dare hurt his daughter's future husband or his brother, any more than my friends. By the way, you have dragons nearby, am I wrong? Isn't your one command enough to burn us all to the ground?" She asked gently. He stared at her with pursed lips.

It was always Aegon who indulged all his pleasures at the expense of others. He thought if he was to meet a woman tomorrow that he would probably never love, who he might not even be able to look at, that maybe once, just once, he might be the one irresponsible.

Go upstairs and fuck her the way she wanted, feel the warmth of a woman that he thought was beautiful.

Seeing his hesitation, she walked slowly towards the stairs, turning to him over her shoulder, smiling at him from the corner of her mouth. Aemond downed what was left in his pitcher in one gulp and followed her without thinking twice.

He saw her enter one of the rooms where a fire was lit. He closed the door behind him and looked at her. She stood with her back to him, staring into the flames, lost in thought.

She took off her leather gloves, her slender fingers deftly beginning to undo the knots of her jacket. The fabric parted slowly, revealing her bare skin, the faint outline of her breasts, now practically uncovered. He quickly looked her up and down and saw that she had no weapons hidden anywhere.

He unbuttoned his coat, shrugging it off, eyeing her warily, circling her with a dark, dangerous gaze, like a predator looking at its prey. She glanced at him, as her jacket slid down on its own, revealing her naked body from the waist up.

He swallowed loudly when he saw her soft, firm breasts. He thought that they would fit the shape of his hands perfectly and felt he was completely hard at the thought.

"Have you done this with many men before?" He asked impassively, unable to take his eye off her chest. She smiled, sighing as if in pity, her gaze warm and full of something that he couldn't describe.

"No. But seeing you, I couldn't resist. Such a handsome man." She said softly, approaching him slowly, there was no trace of shame on her face.

He flinched and stepped back when she wanted to take his hand. She wasn't put off, she took his fingers gently in hers and lifted them, placing them on her breast, letting him touch the warmth and softness of her body. His mouth parted at the sensation, the heat in his lower abdomen unbearable.

"You are mocking me." He said low, but there was an uncertainty in his voice that he chastised himself for in his head.

He knew that nothing could change what his face looked like - the first thing anyone saw. He didn't know how anyone would want to kiss him willingly. He decided that the girl was having fun at his expense, sensing his desperation, the fact that women stayed away from him.

Nevertheless, instead of a malicious smile, he saw surprise on her face. She blinked as she stepped closer to him, placing her free hand on his chest, the other rubbing her breast with his hand. He felt her nipple harden under his touch and pursed his lips.

"I'm not in the habit of mocking people. I don't like wasting my time, my prince." She whispered, her lips slightly parted, her gaze sensual and full of desire.

He sighed and pulled her to him, she kissed him suddenly, softly, noncommittally. With each sticky click of their lips brushing against each other, her lips pressed more and more against his, her body close to him, finally feeling how hard he was. He didn't stop her as her hands slid down to the fabric of his trousers, undoing them.

"I will give you a lot of pleasure if you only want, my prince." She whispered, taking his hard length in her hand.

He moaned low into her mouth, surprised by her directness, how gentle her touch was, how soft her hands were. She squeezed him timidly, rubbing him up and down, never taking her lips off of his, one of his hands gripping her waist tightly, the other still involuntarily massaging her breast.

He suddenly grabbed her hair, tilting her head back, looking at her with parted lips, all hot. He felt that there was no turning back, that it was too late. He thought that he wasn't married yet, that today was the last day that he could do what he wanted.

"Let's see what you can do." He hissed, grabbing her hips suddenly, and she yelped softly, wrapping her arms and legs around him, breathing fast.

He sat down with her on the bed, and she immediately straddled him, unbuttoning her trousers, sliding them off her. He was surprised that she didn't mind that she was completely naked while he was fully clothed.

She rose slightly, positioning herself above him, her hand in his hair, looking at him with her mouth slightly parted. She took his hand, now clenched around her hip, and led it between her hot thighs, straight to her throbbing womanhood, wet with her moisture.

He took a deep breath, feeling a woman like this for the first time. The whores that Aegon had taken him to a few years earlier had just been riding him, and they certainly weren't as wet as she was now.

"Do you feel it, my prince? It can all be yours tonight." She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, encouraging him to slide his finger inside her with a motion of her hand. He did it slowly and sighed shakily, as he felt her rough, fleshy walls pressing against him. He couldn't take his eye off her face.

He grabbed her wrist roughly and firmly, still holding his other hand between her thighs, as her fingers reached for his eyepatch.

"No." He said coldly, looking at her angrily, his jaw clenched, his heart pounding like crazy.

"I want to look at your face while we do this, my prince. Whole." She whispered, guiding his second hand, so that he was rubbing against her clit and the point of greatest pleasure inside her. She rose and fell on his finger, seeking a point of friction, breathing faster and faster.

“I saw men without legs, arms, eyes, ears. The sea spares no one, my prince. Just like fire." She whispered, her free hand brushing over his scars.

He thought that she was lying.

Still, he wanted to believe her. He pursed his lips, torn inside, wanting and not wanting to do it. He wanted to break free, to show himself as he was and hide at the same time. To shut up, to give up, to leave her and go back to Aegon.

When her hand grabbed his eyepatch again and slid it off his head he didn't stop her.

Her expression didn't change, he felt her walls tighten around his finger, a sweet moan escaped her lips.

"Gods, how handsome you are." She whispered helplessly, pressing against his lips, and he moaned loudly in surprise. He didn't believe a word she said, but he wanted it to be true, he wanted her to want him.

He slid his finger out of her quickly and lifted her hips, directing her to his swollen, throbbing manhood that craved her attention so much. They both gasped loudly as her hand guided the tip of his length to her throbbing, hot entrance.

They moaned in surprise as he slid into her suddenly, easily, all the way. She was tight and warm, but at the same time so wet that he began to move inside her at once, imposing a fast, intense pace.

She didn't seem to mind, placing her hands on his shoulders, supporting herself and responding with her hips to his every thrust, panting along with him. His mouth bent down and found her breast, soft and firm, which he grasped, his tongue teasing her nipple with a grunt of delight, tasting salty sweat and her own, sweet scent.

She moaned softly at his caress, pressing his face to her chest, moving on top of him, collapsing against his thighs with a loud slap.

"Oh, gods, my prince - yes, that's right - caress me like that -" She moaned sweetly, delighted, their movements faster and faster, his thrusts brutal and intense, his cock tearing apart her walls, pushing all the way inside her.

He didn't care if it made her uncomfortable or if the pace was too fast. She pressed him so wonderfully, was so incredibly warm that all he wanted was to come inside her. He let her breast out of his mouth with a wet plop, his hand tightening on her hair, tilting her head back.

"Do all Iron Women get wet so fucking easily? Hmm?” He hissed in a hollow voice, panting and moaning in turns with her, his thrusts increasingly sloppy and chaotic.

He could feel the tension in his limbs reaching its zenith, he knew that he wouldn't last much longer. She smiled at his words, her lips slightly parted, her eyes pressed shut in pleasure.

"No, my prince. Only my insides will make you feel this good." She mewled in delight, plopping down on top of him and rubbing against his throbbing cock in such a way, that she felt like she was about to come on him.

Her fingers tightened on his leather jacket as he moaned loudly at her words and sped up, fucking her with all the strength that he had in his hips, both panting restlessly, out of breath, sweat running down their bodies.

“I will leave a little reminder of myself inside you. Would you like that?" He hissed, feeling that a few more thrusts and it would be over. She moaned at his words, gasping for breath, his fingers clenching painfully tight on her hips.

"- yes, oh, gods - I beg you, just cum in me - please, please, please!" She sobbed loudly, and then the sound caught in her throat.

She sobbed helplessly as a strong, brutal orgasm stormed through her body, almost causing her to ache with pleasure. Aemond pressed his forehead against her chest as he felt her tighten on him. He just cum inside her, letting his warm seed spill inside her, panting loudly, shaking with her.

When it was over she slid off him, laying on her side on the sheets, staring at him. He, still breathing uneasily, trembling, quickly tied back his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Her body rose and fell, all hot and quivering, her lips parting sweetly, her eyes staring at him with such warmth and fulfillment that he felt dizzy. He had never experienced such a powerful orgasm in his life.

He didn't know what to say or if he should say anything. He swallowed softly as he saw his semen drip from between her thighs onto the sheets.

He walked over and bent down, taking his cloak from the floor, and left the room, closing the door behind him. He put his clothes back on, pulling the hood over his head, trying to calm down, telling himself that nothing had happened.

That it was just a pleasant adventure and nothing more, that no one will know about it. He pressed his lips together and sighed in relief, as he saw Aegon snoring loudly, his face pressed against the table, beer spilled around him.

He threw his hand over his shoulder, sighing heavily, looking out of the corner of his eye at the companions of the girl that he had just fucked. He felt hot at the thought of her wonderful insides, her soft breasts, her lips, her eyes. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as he and his brother walked outside.

The next day, though not without problems, he and his brother reached the stronghold of Dalton Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands. Aegon looked like he was about to die, but Aemond looked no better.

He hardly slept, and he felt guilty about what he had done. He wondered what his mother would say if she found out. He decided that his Seven Gods must have despised him for what he had done.

He was also afraid to see his future wife.

He was afraid of the disappointment that was to come.

Dalton Greyjoy received them with reserve. He used the proper titles for them, but Aemond felt that he didn't want to see them at all, and he treated the whole thing as purely political himself.

"My daughter is a true Iron Woman, not some delicate flowers you have in your King's Landing, my prince. I give you my greatest gem." He said as if in pain, lowering his head, his wrinkled, stern face looking tired and impatient. Aemond pursed his lips, thinking that he would gladly let him keep his daughter if it were up to him.

After a while the gates opened. Aemond pursed his lips and froze, feeling his throat tighten painfully at the sight of his future wife.

His mistress from the night before approached Dalton Greyjoy cheerfully, smiling broadly. She was dressed in a beautiful, simple, black, suede dress with long sleeves, reaching down to the floor, her dark hair was loose. Even though she wasn't wearing any jewelry, she looked dignified.

"Father." She spoke softly, then turned and bowed before him.

"My prince."

_____

I'll be absent tomorrow, so tomorrow's chapter I'm posting today. Be sure to read my new oneshot I posted this morning, I'm very proud of it. Enjoy! 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla

[srim01997]

What if! Ser Gwayne isn’t chased by Baela.

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: NSFW, PIV, Nake Female Cloth Male, Aemond cheat on her but she cheats on him back, Uncle-Niece incest, Incest, Creampie

Writer’s note: I had an idea about Ser Gwayne not being chased off by Baela and her dragon. So, he and his subordinates could rest in the inn but only Gwayne got special treatment from the princess. Maybe it will have part two(?) of this ;)

Gwayne Hightower Masterlist

House of The Dragon Masterlist

If you appreciate work please like, comment, and reblog!

Some of Gwayne's soldiers opted to sleep in the inn rather than on the cold ground with the rest of the troops. Truth be told, Gwayne had little love for the new Hand of the King, a man appointed by none other than his nephew. The young Dornishman was nothing more than the son of a steward, who had stumbled his way into the Kingsguard and failed his duties on more than one occasion—like the night Aemond lost his eye, or the night young Jaehaerys died, all because he claimed to have been asleep after switching shifts with another guard. If anyone decided to set up camp alongside Criston Cole, there’d likely be glares exchanged—or even fists thrown—before the night was over.

Emerald eyes watched as some of his soldiers flirted with the barmaids. Others had already disappeared upstairs with them. Gwayne let it slide; he considered it a brief respite for his men before tomorrow’s battle. After all, there would be no more rest until the Greens claimed victory over the Black Queen and her pretender’s claim. The red-haired knight took a sip from his wooden cup, only to hear a sweet voice cut through the din of the tavern.

“Do you need company for your drink, Ser Knight?”

“I told you I—” Gwayne turned, only to freeze. “Alyssan? You shouldn’t be here.”

The princess seated herself beside him, her coppery-red hair tied into a low bun. She wore practical riding clothes beneath a cloak that concealed her royal status, making her look like a common traveler. A sweet smile spread across her lips.

“Aemond sent me,” she said lightly. “I was at the camp, but Ser Criston told me you and some of your men were at the inn. He offered to watch over my dragon while I rode here. I thought you might need some...relief before tomorrow’s battle.”

She tossed a pouch of coins to the innkeeper. “This should cover the cost of ale, food, and lodging for this handsome knight and his men.”

“Alyssan, you don’t need to—”

“I want to, Gwayne,” she said softly, leaning in close. “Please…”

Before Gwayne could respond, a drunken man staggered toward them, his lecherous grin fixed on the princess. “Why don’t you come have some fun with me, girl? That knight won’t satisfy you the way I can—”

Steel glinted in the dim light as Gwayne’s sword pressed beneath the drunkard’s chin. His emerald eyes burned with anger. “Apologies, but she’s mine.”

He sheathed his sword and, without another word, hoisted Alyssan over his shoulder. The princess let out a small yelp as his large hand gave her backside a firm squeeze, followed by a playful swat. Gwayne carried her to his room and kicked the door shut behind them. He laid her down on the bed, his rough hands tracing her form. “I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week, little princess.”

His calloused fingers began unfastening her clothes, revealing her bare form. Gwayne’s gaze roamed over her with unbridled admiration—from her flowing red hair and violet eyes, to her alabaster skin and the delicate necklace she still wore, a gift he had given her long ago. She was stunning, her body a perfect blend of strength and softness.

If only she hadn’t married Aemond. By now, they could have had many children together.

As Alyssan reached to undo his shirt, Gwayne gently stopped her. His large hand caressed her hair. “Ah, ah, don’t be so hasty, Alyssan. I want to try something new with you.”

The princess furrowed her brows in confusion until she felt his thick fingers slip into her, causing her to gasp. His tongue followed, skillfully teasing her until her body trembled with pleasure. Just as she neared her peak, he withdrew, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Before she could protest, Gwayne loosened the ties of his breeches and guided her face toward him. She took him into her mouth, struggling to accommodate his size. He groaned, tangling his hand in her coppery hair to guide her movements. His emerald eyes darkened as he watched her, the sight of her lips wrapped around him nearly undoing him. When he finally released, the warm, milky fluid dripped down her chin and onto her chest, painting a sinful picture that only he could see.

“Come, sit on my lap,” he murmured, helping her straddle him. His strong hands guided her as she sank onto him, her body fitting him perfectly. “Just like last time, princess.”

Alyssan moved atop him with practiced ease, her bare skin brushing against his linen shirt. She gasped and moaned, her pleasure heightened by the contrast between their states of undress—she, completely bare save for her necklace, and he, still partially clothed. She rode him with abandon, like a woman possessed.

“Imagine, princess,” Gwayne growled into her ear, his voice laced with wicked delight. “If someone walked in and saw the Targaryen princess, Aemond’s wife, riding her knight like a common whore. What would they think?”

His crude words sent shivers down her spine. “But you’re the only one who can have me like this,” she whispered, grinding her hips against him. “Because I came to your bed, knight.”

Gwayne flipped her onto her back, thrusting into her with relentless precision. Her cries filled the room as he claimed her over and over, his large hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

“Does your husband take you like this, princess?” he rasped, lifting her legs to rest on his broad shoulders. His movements became rougher, more desperate, as they both neared the edge.

“Let me...” he began, his voice strained.

“Release inside me, Gwayne,” she begged, her nails digging into the sheets. Her words sent him over the edge, and he spilled into her with a deep groan, his seed filling her completely. She trembled beneath him, her body quivering from the aftershocks as he withdrew, his essence leaking from between her thighs.

Gwayne cleaned her with a damp cloth before shedding his own shirt and lying beside her. He pulled her into his arms, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” Alyssan replied, her voice tender. She turned to kiss him, a sly smile gracing her lips. “You’re gentler than Aemond, but it seems he prefers whores to me.”

Gwayne’s expression darkened at her words. He cradled her face, kissing her deeply to chase away the thought.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured. “I know you have a dragon, but—”

“Aemond sent me ahead, Gwayne. And I missed you,” she whispered, her body pressing closer to his. The knight groaned, his restraint slipping once more.

“It seems I’ll have to punish this naughty princess again.”

Alyssan stirred awake the following morning, feeling Gwayne's hand wandering over her sensitive areas once again. The red-haired woman turned toward him and murmured, "Haven’t you had enough yet?"

"Then why are you arching into me?" he retorted with a smirk.

Alyssan lifted her leg to allow Gwayne to position himself inside her again while they lay on their sides. However, their moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

The new Hand of the King stood there, clearly displeased to find Ser Gwayne lounging comfortably in a tavern with a woman, while he and the others endured the camp's rough conditions.

"Ser Gwayne, kindly get yourself out of bed. This isn’t the time to be lying around with some whore—"

"The ‘whore’ you’re referring to is me," Alyssan cut him off, turning her fiery gaze on Criston. Her tone was sharp, her violet eyes flashing with annoyance. "And look who suddenly grows silent, Ser Hand. I’m in the middle of enjoying myself with Ser Gwayne. Do you have a problem with that? Oh, wait!"

She pressed a finger to her lips and made a mock shushing gesture.

"If you dare to tattle to my mother or Aemond, prepare to spend your days on the Wall. And don’t forget—I know all about your dirty little secrets."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard fell silent, his lips pressed into a tight line. He bowed stiffly to her and exited without another word.

Once the door closed, Alyssan turned back to Gwayne. "Now, where were we? Actually, we really should get out of bed—"

She let out a soft moan as Gwayne shifted his hips against her, causing the bed to creak.

"Let me enjoy my princess just a little longer," he whispered.

"Don’t worry," she teased, her voice sultry as she cupped his face and kissed him. "I’ll be sure to visit your tent later. Only you have this special privilege of being tended to by a princess."

After another heated kiss, Alyssan slid out of bed and began dressing. She paid no mind to the warm, sticky substance from the previous night starting to trail down her thighs. Gwayne, noticing, got up and gently pushed it back inside her with his fingers.

"Can’t let it go to waste, Alyssan," he said with a mischievous grin. "I want to see it dripping out when I meet you again."

Once she was fully dressed, Alyssan helped Gwayne into his armor. Before leaving the room, she turned back to him one last time, her gaze lingering. The look in her eyes spoke volumes—they both knew they could never truly be apart.

The End

[dutifullynuttywitch]

A Whitetower Festival

Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Mal Volari x Autumn Nightbloom, Wren Volari x Vivi Volari

Rating: Teen (fluff)

Word count: 1900

@choicesfebruary2024 for Eros, pragma

Summary: Mal and Autumn enjoy their first Whitetower festival of friendship and love surrounded by friends and family.

Quote by the wonderful @aallotarenunelma thank you my friend I absolutely adore it! 🥰

Mal awakens to the sounds of boisterous laughter rising up from the children���s bedrooms a floor below. A quick glance at the beautiful woman sleeping next to him confirms his suspicion, Autumn could sleep through a bloody earthquake undisturbed! Chuckling, he places a soft kiss onto her forehead before gently disentangling himself.

Today would be a busy day.

It was Whitetower’s annual festival of friendship and love, a joyous celebration filled with music, storytelling, dancing and tasty foods from across the realm.

Mal had always enjoyed the festivities.

As a child, he’d dart between the rows upon rows of market stalls filling the main streets, stealing sweets to bring back to his sister Wren and the other orphans. Wren loved the candied lollipops while he favored the caramel-filled chocolate figurines of the Lovers Ittar and Bakshi, only sold on such a special day. He’d wander around for hours under the flickering lights of lanterns, captivated by the riveting tales of adventures and star-crossed lovers sung by bards across the public plazas. The annual festival was one of the few times he’d truly felt like a kid.

As an adult his enjoyment had shifted to the rowdy inns and drunken debauchery – drinking and swindling lordlings of their coins at card games, dancing the night away in the company of pretty ladies and the occasional Contessa.

This year he had very different reasons to look forward to the celebrations. It was the first he would spend with Autumn. And the first they’d share with the children they were caring for at the orphanage. Mal and Autumn had enlisted the help of Nia, Wren and Vivi to help them watch over the dozen rowdy children so they could all enjoy the festival’s offerings.

He quickly dresses and bounds down the stairs from their attic bedroom. He’s met by a whirlwind of tiny bodies and limbs greeting him and tugging at his clothes for attention, all talking at once about dreams they had last night, a game of knights and dragons they wanted him to join in on, if they could have pancakes - no, eggs - for breakfast…

“Well good morning to you too!” Mal chuckles as he guides them towards the kitchen and sets upon preparing breakfast, fielding excited questions about the festival.

“Good morning children!”

“Morning miss Autumn!”

Autumn makes her way towards Mal, stopping to hug and affectionately greet the children.

“You didn’t wake me, again. I see you’re not making your Heroes of Morella pancakes this morning?” She wraps her arms around him, peering over at the stove.

“Morning Kit, figured you could use the extra sleep.” He kisses her lightly, distracted by the eggs and sausages sizzling in various large skillets “And those pancakes are the one thing you can do better than me in the kitchen, I figured I’d let you have that little victory.”

“I see your ego’s still bruised from that particular defeat. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to remind you of it every single morning, your magnificence.” Autumn smirks as she reaches for the coffee.

“Now see, for my pride to be wounded it would’ve had to have been a fair fight –”

He turns around and takes her in, almost dropping the skillet.

“Kit, you’re…”

Mal swallows, momentarily at a loss for words as Autumn twirls gracefully, showing off a new red satin dress she bought specifically for the festival, delicate lace worked up the sleeves and bodice.

“Speechless my love?” She teases, trailing a finger along his jaw. “Am I beautiful, stunning, the most striking woman you’ve laid eyes on? To think you once won me over with your silver tongue!”

He quickly recovers, pulling her close.

“Kit, you’re all of those things and more. You’re absolutely ravishing in that little number. In fact, I think I’m going to march you right back up to the bedroom, festival be damned.” He whispers before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, hands tracing the lacy detailing along the bodice.

“In front of the children, brother, really?”

Wren chides from the doorway, moving aside to let her wife Vivi and Nia in. The children run over to greet the familiar faces.

“Priestess Nia, look at my light orb! I’ve been practicing just like you showed me!” Young Daniel produces a bright white orb of magic, proudly floating it high above him.

“Good job! You’ve been working on your breathing exercises, Daniel, I’m very proud of you.” Nia beams down at the smiling child, as Lini and Matt approach her, creating their own small orbs to show her their progress.

“Miss Vivi, did you bring us any of your honey almond sweet rolls?” The twins Navina and Nico ask excitedly.

“Miss Wren, will you teach us how to draw again?” Little Mia looks up at Wren, smiling shyly.

Mal waves at them from the kitchen, busily plating the breakfast while Autumn joins the onslaught, wrapping each woman in a warm hug before ushering everyone over to the dinning table.

After an animated breakfast, the gang heads out towards the festival.

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion!” Wren smiles, taking in Autumn’s bright red dress.

The adults walk up a busy street lined with vibrant market stalls, keeping a close eye as the children excitedly run up and down the stalls, playing tag and marvelling at the colourful foods and wares. Mal and Nia stop at a few stalls teeming with candies to purchase treats for the children.

“I wanted to surprise your brother. You know he’s been talking about this festival for weeks?”

“Judging by what we interrupted this morning it seems to have worked!"

Autumn smirks "He was quite... appreciative."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sac and my brother would still find you the prettiest woman in the realm."

The three women giggle at the thought.

"You know, Mal always enjoyed Whitetower’s celebrations. Those were some of the few days where we could just relax and have a bit of fun."

Autumn's heart twists as she thinks of Mal and Wren's difficult childhood. Vivi gives her wife's hand a soft squeeze.

Wren kisses her before continuing, "Did he tell you he’d sneak me out of the orphanage and steal the most delicious sweets? We’d sit down by that fountain over there stuffing our faces. I spent hours marvelling at the pretty women dancing, twirling around in their colourful dresses.” She grins at the memories.

“Those pretty women impressed you so much you up and married one!” Vivi jokes, planting a soft kiss on her wife’s lips.

“True, I went and found the prettiest of all and tricked her into falling in love with me."

"No trickery required when one is as charming, talented, gorgeous as you, my love."

Autumn smiles as the two women share a tender moment.

“Wren, I’m so glad you and Mal had each other growing up. And that you and Vivi found each other later in life. You’ve endured your share of hardships, but you created such a loving family.”

“And we’re glad you’ve been patient enough to endure our Mal! I had given up hope he’d ever find someone to settle down with. You are family too, you know? Even though my goofball of a brother hasn’t grown a pair yet to officialise it.”

Wren grins widely at Autumn’s rapidly flushing cheeks.

“Wren, we live together, are literally running an orphanage together. Can’t get much more official than that…”

“Sure.” Wren and Vivi share an amused look.

Just then, Mal approaches, a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile touching his lips.

“Kit, close your eyes and open your mouth.”

She looks at him suspiciously but oblidges.

She gasps at the burst of flavours hitting her tastebuds, the richness of chocolate mixing with salty caramel.

“Hmm this is heaven.”

She sighs as he hands her another small chocolate statuette sculpted to resemble the lovers Ittar and Bakshi.

“These are my absolute favorite! I’d wait all year to steal them as a kid.”

“Please tell me you actually purchased these ones?”

“Naturally, Kit, wouldn’t want to be a bad example to the children!” Mal winks.

“You mean a worse example than you already are, recounting your heists as bedtime stories!”

“They love my stories!”

“And they’ll want to follow your example.”

“But see, that’s where you and Nia explain to them how virtuous heroes always win and voila – no harm done!”

Mal flashes her a devilish grin and takes her hand before she can argue any further, pulling her towards an open area where Nia and some of the children are dancing to the lively music of a bard.

He expertly twirls her around the plaza, then dips her, delighting in Autumn’s melodious laugh. They lock eyes, losing themselves in the moment, gliding along to the joyous rhythm of the melody.

"You know, Mal, this could quite possibly be the first dance we share where we're not in mortal danger."

"Kit you may be right. I hope this isn't too boring for your tastes?"

She smiles at him, "Nah, this is perfect."

He steals a kiss as the last melodious notes echoe across the square.

They change partners, Autumn starting a vivacious jig with Nia as he lifts little Lini, spinning the giggling girl around. Wren and Vivi join in, sharing a tender dance before joining hands with several of the children in one large circle dance. The group spends the following hours dancing, laughing, playing games with the children and trying all manner of sweets.

As the sun sets, they gather around the main square’s large fountain, smiling contentedly, bodies and minds satiated. Some of the younger children start yawning, the day’s excitement finally catching up to them.

They part ways with Wren, Vivi and Nia, Mal and Autumn carrying little Lini and Mia home as the other children run ahead, chattering happily if a little more subdued.

Once all the children are tucked in, Mal ushers Autumn up to their bedroom and onto the rooftop. He lays down thick blankets and takes her into his arms as they settle down with contented sighs.

The soft notes of a romantic ballad waft up from the festivities down below. Above them, the night sky is alit with thousands of twinkling stars.

“I’ve been wanting to steal some time alone with you all day, kit… and get you out of that beautiful dress the moment I saw you in it.” He smiles, tracing his fingers lightly along the lace down her arm and bodice, making her shiver.

“I take it you enjoyed your present?” Autumn smiles sweetly at him, reaching up to kiss him softly.

“If by enjoyed you mean tortured every second of the day that I couldn’t whisk you away, rip it off and kiss you breathless, then yes, Autumn, I very much enjoyed my present.” Mal chuckles, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

“It does feels like we don’t have much time to ourselves these days. Though the children had such a wonderful time today. As did I. And it was lovely to spend time with your sister, Vivi and Nia.”

Mal gazes down at her, suddenly a little hesitant.

“Autumn, I realize that I started this orphanage while you were… trapped away… I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated in any way if this is not the life you had imagined for yourself.”

“Mal, look at me,” she cups his face gently, “I am exactly where I want to be, with whom I want to spend my life with. Taking care of these children with you fills me with such joy and a sense of purpose. I love you, and I love this life we are building together. Don’t you ever doubt it.”

“Gods I was hoping you’d say that.” Mal murmurs relieved, capturing her lips in another fiery kiss.

They continue to share loving kisses long into the night, lulled by the gentle music floating up from Whitetower’s celebrations.

[kewpifinchi]

little scene bun thought of for a witcher rendition shy wants to write . . . bun plans on calling it "the witcher: wine & white jasmine" or wwawj for short ( maybe )

it was only then when atop his horse he felt a pair of eyes scanning his presence, a pair of eyes that not only surveyed his stature with vigorous intensity, but had done so for half the journey. "i can feel you staring at me, bard." geralt muttered. as much as jaskier wanted to deny his obvious and persistent leering, his mind and pride would not stoop so low as to ditch the dramatics, for his fear of mediocrity had been all the more powerful for the better half of his life. "how could one not notice such a grandiose figure, o white wolf of mine? is it so wrong to admire one's benevolent savior after such a high stakes battle of wit and coordination?" he chimed. geralt let out a hearty and exhausted sigh. "i saved you from a drunken bar fight, jaskier. not a dragon." jaskier chuckled to himself and closed the distance between him and geralt. "oh lighten up! seriously, does your witcher way of life prevent you from having the tiniest bit of fun?" jaskier said, only to be met with a frustrated grunt. geralt hadn't wanted to admit it, but he found the bard's musings amusing, and despite him finding them utterly pointless when not intertwined in a hero's ballad, he found their tantalizing wording and literary competence alluring, and perhaps rather interesting depending on whether or not he wanted to stroke the bard's already monumental ego. "i swear, your ramblings make my head hurt." jaskier scoffed. "are you sure it's me and not that stew you had at the tavern? i distinctly remember telling you that that pork wasn't properly cooked, but what do i know? i'm just the bard." he sneered. geralt found this sudden tone shift peculiar. was jaskier actually mad? or was an act? "you cannot seriously still be hung up on that?" geralt teased. "mock me if you must but melitele be damned, when you're resting at an inn with some sort of foodbourne curse of the stomach, if you think i'll be sympathetic you're sorely mistaken, you insufferable ignoramus!" geralt nearly burst out laughing at this sudden poetic and linguistic outburst. "catty, aren't we, bard?" he chuckled. "up yours." alright, he's definitely not playing. "what's gotten into you?" geralt asked. "nothing." he said through gritted teeth and tense jaw. geralt halts roach and dismounts. "jaskier." he urged firmly, looking jaskier in the eye so the genuine tone would sink in faster, at least that's what he wanted to happen. "i...it's just that you never want to hear me talk. everytime i open my mouth you swear it's equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. you would be upset too if i had such high destain for your voice." sad truth is he wouldn't, but he'd never let jaskier know that. "it's like you said bard. it's just a joke. i've slain monsters who reigned for centuries and you honestly think that i'd let such a scrawny bard tag alongside me if i hated him that much?" jaskier scowled. "watch it." geralt sighed and climbed aboard his steed once more. "you know what i mean, jaskier. i don't hate you, not in the slightest. my jokes aren't that good. i'm sorry." he grumbled. sorry? has the world been flipped upside down? never in his life had jaskier heard geralt say anything remotely similar to sorry. "it's...it's fine, geralt." geralt had apologized, and everything really was fine. perhaps all jaskier ever needed was a sorry. yes, a sorry would make all the difference. sorry will do.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Arianne II

The Peregrine made port at the Weeping Town, where the corpse of the Young Dragon had once lingered for three days on its journey home from Dorne.

Could be relevant.

The Dornish prince was three days dying. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

+.+.+

The town was large enough to support three inns, and all their common rooms were rife with rumors. Arianne sent her men into each of them, to hear what they might hear. In the Broken Shield, Daemon Sand was told that the great septry on the Holf of Men had been burned and looted by raiders from the sea, and a hundred young novices from the motherhouse on Maiden Isle carried off into slavery. In the Loon, Joss Hood learned that half a hundred men and boys from the Weeping Town had set off north to join Jon Connington at Griffin's Roost, including young Ser Addam, old Lord Whitehead's son and heir. But in the aptly named Drunken Dornishman, Feathers heard men muttering that the griffin had put Red Ronnet's brother to death and raped his maiden sister. Ronnet himself was said to be rushing south to avenge his brother's death and his sister's dishonor. That night Arianne dispatched the first of her ravens back to Dorne, reporting to her father on all they'd seen and heard. 

I'm going to laugh if she's sending him a bunch of gossip and hearsay.

"Send a raven whenever you have news," Prince Doran told her, "but report only what you know to be true. We are lost in fog here, besieged by rumors, falsehoods, and traveler's tales. I dare not act until I know for a certainty what is happening." - Arianne I, TWOW

For the record, Jon Connington didn't actually kill Red Ronnet's brother, or rape his maiden sister. However, he's currently holding his own family hostage, one of his men threw a maester from a tower, and only four of the castle garrison survived the attack.

Similar to Daenerys Targaryen in Slaver's Bay, sometimes knowing the truth of a situation doesn't bring much more reassurance.

+.+.+

Huge willows grew along the watercourses, larger than any that Arianne had ever seen, their great trunks as gnarled and twisted as an old man's face and festooned with beards of silvery moss. Trees pressed close on every side, shutting out the sun; hemlock and red cedars, white oaks, soldier pines that stood as tall and straight as towers, colossal sentinels, big-leaf maples, redwoods, wormtrees, even here and there a wild weirwood.

I don't think this is anything, but I get paranoid.

+.+.+

Arianne had once heard her father and Maester Caleotte arguing with a septon about why the north and south sides of the Sea of Dorne were so different. The septon thought it was because of Durran Godsgrief, the first Storm King, who had stolen the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind and earned their eternal emnity. Prince Doran and the maester inclined more toward wind and water, and spoke of how the big storms that formed down in the Summer Sea would pick up moisture moving north until they slammed into Cape Wrath. For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne, she recalled her father saying. "I know your reason," the septon had responded. "No Dornishmen ever stole away the daughter of two gods."

It's astonishing to me that a priest lacks understanding of the scientific field of meteorology.

For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne

+.+.+

The princess lost another game of cyvasse to Daemon Sand, won one from Joss Hood, then retired as the two of them began to teach Jayne Ladybright the rules. She was tired of such games.

There ya go!

You better not be tired.

+.+.+

Nym and Tyene may have reached King's Landing by now, she mused, as she settled down crosslegged by the mouth of the cave to watch the falling rain. If not they ought to be there soon.

Yeah? Is that what you'd like me to believe, George?

Boy, I'm eagerly anticipating the amusing antics that will unfold between Cersei Lannister, the High Sparrow, Nym Sand, and Tyene Sand. That's definitely a plot you can count on happening, no shadow of a doubt.

+.+.+

Prince Trystane had remained safely back at Sunspear, after a tearful parting from Princess Myrcella. 

That moment you realize nowhere in Dorne is safe.

Reminds me of this one:

Steffon and Stannis were thousands of leagues from the fighting and safe from harm, but Devan was at Castle Black, a squire to the king. - Davos II, ADWD

Nope!

+.+.+

That accounts for one brother, thought Arianne, but where is Quentyn, if not with the griffin? Had he wed his dragon queen? King Quentyn. It still sounded silly. This new Daenerys Targaryen was younger than Arianne by half a dozen years. What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? Young girls dreamed of dashing knights with wicked smiles, not solemn boys who always did their duty. She will want Dorne, though. If she hopes to sit the Iron Throne, she must have Sunspear. If Quentyn was the price for that, this dragon queen would pay it. What if she was at Griffin's End with Connington, and all this about another Targaryen was just some sort of subtle ruse? Her brother could well be with her. King Quentyn. Will I need to kneel to him?

You are too old to be acting like this.

+.+.+

No good would come of wondering about it. Quentyn would be king or he would not. I pray Daenerys treats him him more gently than she did her own brother.

The irony of this thought occurring immediately after she ponders the absurdity of her own brother as king shouldn't be lost on you.

+.+.+

It was only as she settled down that Arianne realized Elia Sand had not returned from her explorations.  [...] The cave proved much deeper than any of them had suspected. Beyond the stony mouth where her company had made their camp and hobbled their horses, a series of twisty passageways led down and down, with black holes snaking off to either side. Further in, the walls opened up again, and the searchers found themselves in a vast limestone cavern, larger than the great hall of a castle. Their shouts disturbed a nest of bats, who flapped about them noisily, but only distant echoes shouted back. A slow circuit of the hall revealed three further passages, one so small that it would have required them to proceed on hands and knees.

Giving House of the Undying, House of Black and White, and Red Keep vibes.

+.+.+

And all at once she found herself in another cavern, five times as big as the last one, surrounded by a forest of stone columns. Daemon Sand moved to her side and raised his torch. "Look how the stone's been shaped," he said. "Those columns, and the wall there. See them?" "Faces," said Arianne. So many sad eyes, staring. "This place belonged to the children of the forest." "A thousand years ago." Arianne turned her head. "Listen. Is that Joss?" It was. The other searchers had found Elia, as she and Daemon learned after they made their way back up the slippery slope to the last hall. 

Wait a second, I know this scene!

Are you telling me that wasn't real?

Okay, but what about this?

↓ 

Might I ask about these corpses in the ice cells? They make the men uneasy. And to keep them under guard? Surely that is a waste of two good men, unless you fear that they …"

"… will rise? I pray they do." - Jon VIII, ADWD

x

"Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall," Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, "but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go." - Fire & Blood

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Mormont snorted. "Because I sent him, why do you think? He's bringing the hand your Ghost tore off the end of Jafer Flowers's wrist. I have commanded him to take ship to King's Landing and lay it before this boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention, I'd think … and Ser Alliser's a knight, highborn, anointed, with old friends at court, altogether harder to ignore than a glorified crow." - Jon VIII, AGOT 

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓ 

The Cinnamon Wind was spinning all around them and he could taste the rum on Gilly's tongue and the next thing her breasts were bare and he was touching them. - Samwell IV, AFFC

Shit!

Gosh, it's almost as if the creators of Game of Thrones pulled an entire season and romance from their ass.

+.+.+

Their passageway led down to a still black pool, where they discovered the girl up to her waist in water, catching blind white fish with her bare hands, her torch burning red and smoky in the sand where she had planted it.

That black pool sounds familiar.

Blind white fish swam in the black river, but they tasted just as good as fish with eyes once you cooked them up. - Bran III, ADWD

Where else does this river go?

+.+.+

"I caught two fish," said Elia Sand. "You could have died," said Arianne again. Her words echoed off the cavern walls. "… died … died … died …"

A bit ominous.

+.+.+

"Elia, this must end," she told her. "We are not in Dorne now. You are not with your sisters, and this is not a game. I want your word that you will play the maidservant until we are safely back at Sunspear. I want you meek and mild and obedient. You need to hold your tongue. I'll hear no more talk of Lady Lance or jousting, no mention of your father or your sisters. The men that I must treat with are sellswords. Today they serve this man who calls himself Jon Connington, but come the morrow they could just as easily serve the Lannisters. All it takes to win a sellsword's heart is gold, and Casterly Rock does not lack for that. If the wrong man should learn who you are, you could be seized and held for ransom–"

[...]

"You are a Sand Snake, and Prince Doran would pay any price to keep you and your sisters safe from harm." That made the child smile at least. "Do I have your sworn word? Or must I send you back?"

"I swear." Elia did not sound happy.

"On your father's bones."

"On my father's bones."

That vow she will keep, Arianne decided. She kissed her cousin on the cheek and sent her off to sleep. Perhaps some good would come of her adventure. "I never knew how wild she was till now," Arianne complained to Daemon Sand, afterward. "Why would my father inflict her on me?" "Vengeance?" the knight suggested, with a smile.

Later:

Arianne was on her way back to her own chamber when she heard muffled laughter from the adjoining room. She paused and listened for a moment, then pushed the door open to find Elia Sand curled up in a window seat, kissing Feathers.

[...]

"Feathers is a man." A serving man, but still a man. It did not escape the princess that Elia was the same age she had been when she gave her maidenhead to Daemon Sand. 

Lmao.

This is why I'm never having children. I would be cursed with raising another version of myself.

+.+.+

Mistfall's new sellsword masters called themselves Young John Mudd and Chain. Both knights, to hear them tell it. Neither behaved like any knight that Arianne had ever met. Mudd wore brown from head to heel, the same shade as his skin, but a pair of golden coins dangled from his ears. The Mudds had been kings up by the Trident a thousand years ago, she knew, but there was nothing royal about this one. Nor was he particularly young, but it seemed his father had also served in the Golden Company, where he had been known as Old John Mudd.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Young John Mudd (Young Griff), son of Old John Mudd of the Golden Company, bears the name of previous kings in Westeros. However, it's clear there's no real ancestral ties to that royal bloodline.

+.+.+

At evenfall a fine supper was served to them in the solar, high in the Tower of Owls, where they were joined by the dowager Lady Mertyns and her maester. Though a captive in her own castle, the old woman seemed spry and cheerful. "My sons and grandsons went off when Lord Renly called his banners," she told the princess and her party. "I have not seen them since, though from time to time they send a raven. One of my grandsons took a wound at the Blackwater, but he's since recovered. I expect they will return here soon enough to hang this lot of thieves." She waved a duck leg at Mudd and Chain across the table. "We are no thieves," said Mudd. "We're foragers." "Did you buy all that food down in the yard?" "We foraged it," said Mudd. “The smallfolk can grow more. We serve your rightful king, old crone.” He seemed to be enjoying this. “You should learn to speak more courteous to knights.”

"If you two are knights, I'm still a maiden," said Lady Mertyns. "And I'll speak as I please. What will you do, kill me? I have lived too long already."

Princess Arianne said, "Have you been treated well, my lady?"

"I have not been raped, if that is what you're asking," the old woman said. "Some of the serving girls have been less fortunate. Married or unmarried, the men make no distinctions."

"No one's been doing any raping," insisted Young John Mudd. "Connington won't have that. We follow orders."

Chain nodded. "Some girls was persuaded, might be."

"The same way our smallfolk were persuaded to give you all their crops. Melons or maidenheads, it's all the same to your sort. If you want it, you take it." Lady Mertyns turned to Arianne. "If you should see this Lord Connington, you tell him that I knew his mother, and she would be ashamed." Perhaps I shall, the princess thought.

Might as well start the obituaries now.

+.+.+

That night when she told Ser Daemon what Chain had said, the Bastard of Godsgrace seemed as perplexed as she was. "Storm's End was still held by men loyal to Lord Stannis when last I heard. You would think Connington might do better to make common cause with another rebel, rather than making war upon him too." "Stannis is too far away to be of help to him," Arianne mused. "Capturing a few minor castles whilst their lords and garrisons are off at distant wars, that's one thing, but if Lord Connington and his pet dragon can somehow take one of the great strongholds of the realm …" "…the realm would have to take them seriously," Ser Daemon finished.

Including Daenerys!

+.+.+

Near dusk on the fourth day, not long after Chain and his wagons had taken their leave of them, Arianne's company was met by a column of sellswords down from Griffin's Roost, led by the most exotic creature that the princess had ever laid her eyes on, with painted fingernails and gemstones sparkling in his ears.

Lysono Maar spoke the Common Tongue very well. "I have the honor to be the eyes and ears of the Golden Company, princess."

"You look…" She hesitated.

"…like a woman?" He laughed. "That I am not."

"…like a Targaryen," Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead.

(Please give yourself a moment to laugh at her discomfort at the sight of someone resembling a Targaryen.)

That's considered fAegon evidence.

It's another reminder that people from Lys have the Targaryen look.

"Your Grace is kind," said Waters with a smile. A wicked smile, the queen thought. Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

↓ 

"Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra." - Tyrion II, ADWD

Somewhat worrisome, because Aegon also resembles young Illyrio.

A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel. - tyrion I, ADWD

↓ 

He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter. - Tyrion III, ADWD

+.+.+

"I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world."

"And the men of House Targaryen?"

"Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one."

That's considered fAegon evidence. The author made it ambiguous.

Lysono Maar is the spymaster for the Golden Company, it's possible he's met Viserys Targaryen.

Her brother Viserys had once feasted the captains of the Golden Company, in hopes they might take up his cause. They ate his food and heard his pleas and laughed at him. - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

"Do you play cyvasse, my lord?" asked Arianne. "My father has been teaching me. I am not very skilled, I must confess, but I do know that the dragon is stronger than the elephant." "The Golden Company was founded by a dragon." "Bittersteel was half-dragon, and all bastard. I am no maester, but I know some history. You are still sellswords." "If it please you, princess," he said, all silken courtesy. "We prefer to call ourselves a free brotherhood of exiles." "As you will. As free brothers go, your company stands well above the rest, I grant you. Yet the Golden Company has been defeated every time it has crossed into Westeros. They lost when Bittersteel commanded them, they failed the Blackfyre Pretenders, they faltered when Maelys the Monstrous led them." That seemed to amuse him.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

He might find it amusing if he knows they have another Blackfyre.

+.+.+

By midmorning a light rain began to fall, as they were making their way north through a land of green fields and little villages. 

x

The rain still fell, soft and steady. The sound of moisture dripping off the leaves was all around them, and every mile or so the music of another little waterfall would call to them.

x

They travelled to the music of steady, lashing rains beating at the treetops up above, though underneath the green great canopy of leaves and branches she and her riders stayed surprisingly dry. 

x

And finally Griffin's Roost emerged from the sea mists, on a grey wet day as the rain fell thin and cold. 

Rain falling from start to finish...

+.+.+

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm's End is ours. The Hand awaits you there." Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland." "These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle." Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. "Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Let's talk about a few things.

One.

Previously covered in ADWD's Epilogue.

There's two hosts in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. - Epilogue, ADWD

Mace Tyrell intended to deal with Aegon and the Golden Company after Margaery's and Cersei's trials.

"[...] we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials." - Epilogue, ADWD

If Cersei carries out a massively destructive and violent act at that trial, causing significant harm to House Tyrell (and we have a lot of reasons to believe she will), then it seems logical to conclude that the host coming from King's Landing intends to join Aegon, not fight him.

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools." - Epilogue, ADWD

Two.

"Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Once again, the author is reinforcing the idea that Aegon is lacking necessary skills for this job.

In Jon Connington's last chapter, we learned the Golden Company does not currently have the strength to face enemies in the field.

The great beasts would be useful in a pitched battle, no doubt, but it would be some time before they had the strength to face their foes in the field. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Now, at Aegon's command, they're going to ABANDON THE WALLS OF STORM'S END, and meet the King's Landing host in an open field.

That is unbelievably stupid, and the only reason it won't end in disaster is because the Tyrell host probably isn't coming to fight.

Regardless, what is it telling us about the future?

Ser Jorah considered that for a moment. "Robert should have been born Dothraki," he said at last. "Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stone walls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strong man, brave … and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark …" He spat. - Daenerys IV, AGOT

This is the problem with Jon Connington: he's dying, therefore he's no longer patient.

He will allow Aegon to be reckless, and use flawed strategy.

" … once we have Storm's End . . ."

The princess let that aside go without comment, though it gave her considerable pause. Storm's End. This griffin is a bold one, it would seem. Or else a fool. The seat of House Baratheon for three centuries, of the ancient Storm Kings for thousands of years before that, Storm’s End was said by some to be impregnable. Arianne had heard men argue about which was the strongest castle in the realm.

Three.

Has this girl lost her mind? Why would you voluntarily go to Storm's End when an army is descending upon it?

Catelyn Stark also found herself in the middle of a dispute at Storm's End, but Catelyn Stark isn't the heir to Dorne.

+.+.+

"Your brother is not at Storm's End, we know that now," Ser Daemon said, as soon as they were behind closed doors. "If Daenerys Targaryen has dragons, they are half a world away, and of no use to Dorne. There is nothing for us at Storm's End, princess. If Prince Doran meant to send you into the middle of a battle, he would have given you three hundred knights, not three."

Do not be so certain of that, ser. He sent my brother off to Slaver's Bay with five knights and a maester. "I need to speak with Connington." Arianne undid the interlocked sun and spear that clasped her cloak, and let the rain-soaked garment slip from her shoulders to puddle on the floor. "And I want to see this dragon prince of his. If he is truly Elia's son…"

"Whoever's son he is, if Connington challenges Mace Tyrell in open battle he may soon be a captive, or a corpse."

"Tyrell is not a man to fear. My uncle Oberyn–"

" –is dead, princess. And ten thousand men is equal to the whole strength of the Golden Company."

"Lord Connington knows his own strength, surely. If he means to risk battle, he must believe that he can win it."

"And how many men have died in battles they believed that they could win?" Ser Daemon asked her. "Refuse them, princess. I mistrust these sellswords. Do not go to Storm's End."

I think it's a little concerning that the designated Voice of Reason doesn't want her going any further in this journey.

+.+.+

"Ser Daemon, you squired for my uncle Oberyn," she said. "If you were with him now, would you be counseling him to refuse as well?" She did not wait for him to respond. "I know the answer. And if you are about to remind me that I am no Red Viper, I know that too. But Prince Oberyn is dead, Prince Doran is old and ill, and I am the heir to Dorne."

"And that is why you should not put yourself at risk." Daemon Sand went to one knee. "Send me to Storm's End in your stead. Then if the griffin's plans should go awry and Mace Tyrell takes the castle back, I will be just another landless knight who swore his sword to this pretender in hopes of gain and glory."

Whereas if I am taken, the Iron Throne will take that for proof that Dorne conspired with these sellswords, and lent aid to their invasion. "It is brave for you to seek to shield me, ser. I thank you for that." She took his hands and drew him back to his feet. "But my father entrusted this task to me, not you. Come the morrow, I sail to beard the dragon in its den."

Yeah, I don't have a good feeling about any of this.

I don't think the danger is the host coming from King's Landing. I think it's the decisions she makes after that.

Final thoughts:

What happens when Daemon Sand is the more likeable man in the love triangle?

Let it be known, I'm Team Bastard of Godgrace. I'll let you guys enjoy the one assuming the role of Joffrey.

Next chapter: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

-> return to menu <-

[scribeofskyrim]

Loredas, 18th of Heartsfire, 4E 201

Divines, I need to focus.

We’re on the road south of Dawnstar, on our way to Windhelm, in a half-ruined fort called Fort Fellhammer and the mines it guards.

I realized that I don’t like to work on the house too long. I get a bit bored going back and forth between the anvil and the supply chests and the workbenches, and I keep running out of lumber, too.

I took one look at the spot where there used to be lumber, and said, “Let’s go look for my fiance/e.”

The others were surprised, and asked why I decided to stop work on the house. Truth be told, part of it was because I didn’t feel like running back and forth to the mill again. But also… It’s been in the back of my mind since I woke up at the Winking Skeever with that mystery makeup smudge on my face. It was distracting, and that Sam guy still owes me a staff.

Besides, I need to set the record straight with whoever I got engaged to. I know I’d feel terrible if someone proposed to me and forgot about it!

So we geared up, filled our waterskins and set off for Morvunskar to try and find Sam Guevenne.

The most direct route is towards Dawnstar, down through the mountains, then over towards Windhelm. We had a quiet trip to Dawnstar, unless you count the couple headed towards Solitude for Vittoria’s wedding. We heard their bickering before we saw them! I felt so bad for the Imperial guard they had escorting them.

We stopped in Dawnstar to warm up (is it ever not bitterly cold in Dawnstar???) and so that Erandur could see how the people were doing.

A week of actual sleep has really improved the town’s mood! We checked in with Jarl Skald, and he was arguing with his housecarl about giving more troops to the rebellion. He’s convinced that Talos is on their side, and that throwing bodies at the fight is the answer.

I don’t know if I agree with that, but Erandur just nodded and said that he would offer some prayers.

For who, he didn’t say.

On the way out of the hall a courier walked up. He had an invite for us from Silus Vesuius about a museum opening in Dawnstar centered on the Order of the Mythic Dawn. Erandur rolled his eyes and scoffed. Another dead cult – Just what Dawnstar needs.

I might give it a look when we get back.

We walked down to the docks to the big boat moored there. I know some can be hired, so I asked Captain Wayfinder - he looks younger than me!- if he was going to Windhelm. He said he can’t go anywhere until he gets the order of fine-cut void salts that his drunken crew misplaced. He said he’d pay me well if I retrieved them, and marked the location of the cave where they’d been lost on the map.

Lucky for us, it’s on the way to Windhelm!

We stopped at the inn to warm up and resupply, but on the way out the same little boy that had nearly been eaten by the dragon burst in and slammed into me!

He apologized, but stepped back when he recognized me. He looked a bit scared, but relaxed when Erandur greeted him by name.

His name is Alesan, and he makes money by running food and supplies back and forth to the miners. I asked after his parents, and he sadly explained that he didn’t have any. His father had been a sailor. Alesan went with him on his last trip, but the man got sick, so the other sailors dropped the two off in Dawnstar and left. Before I could say anything else, he was called to the bar to pick up another bundle of goods for the mines.

Erandur sighed as the boy rushed back out of the inn. He explained that Alesan’s been fending for himself ever since his father died. Erandur had been called in to try and heal the man, but by the time he got there, it was time to perform last rites. He’d offered to set Alesan up with a proper bed at the shrine in Nightcaller Temple, but the boy had refused. He was determined to take care of himself, and found himself a job almost right away.

Erandur said he helps Alesan whenever he can, but the boy refuses charity, for the most part. He gestured to a small blanket, neatly folded by the fire. “That’s where the boy sleeps,” he said. He looked sadder than he did in Nightcaller Temple, surrounded by the bodies of people he'd once called friends, and Valdimar put a hand on his shoulder.

I noticed that the blanket was the same warm yellow as Erandur’s priest robes.

We all looked at each other, and I slipped a few Septims into the folds of the blanket before we left.

I can’t get the thought of that poor kid out of my head. I mean, good for him taking care of himself, but that’s hard enough to do in a bustling city like the Capitol, with lots of food stalls to swipe from and rich people wanting to make themselves look good by throwing coins at beggars. He’s out here in the middle of nowhere, in the cold and ice!

They really do grow them different here in Skyrim.

We set off through the mountain pass, and it wasn’t long before we started to freeze again. Erandur said he knew of a small, abandoned keep nearby that once guarded a mine: Fort Fellhammer. The plan was to stop in quickly just to warm up, so we veered off the main road and walked through the gate.

Erandur apologized immediately. The fort was abandoned last he knew. It was quiet when we first walked in, but the bandits that used to be on guard duty outside popped out when they heard us.

It wasn’t a hard fight, and there were two doors to choose from. One went down into the mine, and the other into the keep.

I figured there would be less people in the mine, so I picked the lock and we went in. Valdimar commented on that, actually. He’d seen how badly my hands were shaking, and was surprised that it only took me three tries to open it.

Lydia came in last, and shut the door behind us. I heard her whisper to Valdimar, “That’s a tough lock.”

I don’t think she realizes how much louder her helmet makes her voice.

So down we went, and took out about half a dozen bandits in the tunnels below. It was hard fighting in such close quarters, but we did get a fair amount of loot off of them, and I took the time to mine all the iron I could!

After all, I still have a house to finish.

We left the mine and warmed up by the smelter before going up top to the other door. I was expecting even more bandits, but there were only two rooms and their leader up there.

Even though it’s not very late, the weather has gotten worse, so we’re going to stay here for the night.

I don’t know if any more bandits are going to show up, so we’re going to do a watch rotation. Besides, there’s only three beds.

-----

First watch is mine, as usual, and I can’t help but think of Alesan. The storm is terrible, and I know it’s even colder in Dawnstar, what with the sea wind coming right into town like it does. He should be safe and warm enough at the inn at this hour, and that blanket is thick, but it won’t do much against the stone floor.

I know I left him enough to get some food, at least.

Damn it. I need to make some space for him at one of the houses once I get this whole fiance/e thing cleared up. Who knows? Maybe I’ll actually like the person when I’m sober and they can take care of him?

That’s a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but it’s something.

[gorbalsvampire]

𝖃𝕴𝕴𝕴 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕱𝖊𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖆

𝔄𝔠𝔱 ℑℑ, 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢 𝔦

Our story resumes with two of our Cainite cast slaking their Hunger (finally).

Mariam, it transpires, keeps a ledger. A shitlist of people she has asked after, or been asked to observe, and select for punishment: Jew and gentile alike. This summer, her pet project is smuggling - specifically, the smuggling of leavened bread into Josefov. (@friends-of-beetlejuice assures me this is a thing, and I shall be saving her critical success on the "where's the bread going?" roll for when I've thought of something interesting to do with it.)

Theodericus, meanwhile, has the advantage of shared faith and a substantial Herd; as such, he can spend a weeknight with the boys around the firepit, rubbing themselves with oil and honey and enjoying... encounters. Although a roll wasn't strictly needed, I offered @newt-n-abbey a shot at a Dyscracia if they wanted to dare the devil, which they did. Theodericus is Stirred, and will have an easy time of it buying into Presence or Blood Sorcery if he wishes.

Meanwhile, Alzbeta did not need to feed, so @mxviatrix and I explored her ministry to the needy, the unfortunate, and the disadvantaged. In this case, a local madwoman, who shelters from the summer rain in the convent's grounds, who walks like her knees and elbows disagree with each other, and who answers to the name Libussa - that is to say, the Queen of the Goths, the founding mother of the Premysl dynasty and of Prague. Libussa asked after Agnes, daughter of Ottokar turned nun, and Alzbeta saw fit to push for a Premonition, feeling she had something in common with this woman.

One Messy Critical later, Alzbeta's mind was seared by a vision - all the centuries of a long life, disembodied then re-embodied then buried in the earth - of Mitra, fighting against the Dragon and prevailing not - of Libussa marvelling at her hands that were not her hands - of her absent sire, warning her to wake the Dragon - or was that to not wake the Dragon? All good for a point of aggravated Willpower damage, anyway.

We moved on to some Coterie Time. Alzbeta wanted the perspective of a Jew on this premonition, but not someone of learning - the Jew in the street, as it were - so she sought out Mariam at the gate of Josefov again. The two Cainites took a stroll about the Old Town and across the river, discussing the Devil or Old Serpent and the Adversary, and the differences between them. In Mariam's understanding the Adversary can be anything: doubt, hunger, an unjust king. There was a trace of guilt there that she couldn't do more...

(I loved this conversation. Planted some thematic seeds I am very much going to enjoy cultivating.)

Alzbera was still nervous, fearing the oncoming darkness and the eyes in the fire were something to do with the murder of the rabbi Zachary. Mariam was very sure that any dark forces in Josefov were coming from outside...

The tension evaporated as a dorkily drunken Theodericus weaved his way over the bridge; Alzbeta couldn't resist messing with him, and revealed a rather dry sense of humour underneath that pious and controlled exterior. This was a good session for Alzbeta's depths - infuriated by her own limitations in the department of divination, she'd already punched the floor of the convent kitchen to centre herself, in a gesture nobody seemed to expect.

Our Cainites repaired to the Inn of the Four Stags to toast their new allegiance - a suggestion by Mariam, who the record will show as not imbibing the drunk-blood herself. It transpired that the Four Stags is the base of operations for a coterie, mostly of Brujah, but playing host to the Cappadocian Mercurio, who agreed to take a message to his absent brother Marsillius (currently nose deep in his books).

We shall discuss these Brujah more in the next session, once all our coterie have had a chance to meet them...

[zhongster]

Hi there! I absolutely LOVE your page! Your stories and headcannons have left me blushing SEVERAL times. Thank you :)

Ahem. Anyways...

I've got this idea in my brain and was wondering what your thoughts on it/would you write a small story about said topic.

So, as you said in your Vax headcannons, he's not shy about his belching abilities until Keyleth comes around, then he's "nervous"

What if, the two of them were made to share a room at an inn or something during one of their quests. She's busy talking to Pike or Vex even, he's alone in the room. WRONG. She comes in as he's just about to start releasing said "monsters" in his stomach. Of course, she wants him to feel better, she's his friend/girlfriend/wife (you decide, lol) so she encourages him to let loose and when he does, he finds out she secretly "likes" it...

I hope you enjoy this idea that now lives rent-free in my brain.

Oh my god dude… this prompt has me on the floor holy fuck. Also tysm I’m glad I’m finding more eructo people that like tlovm/cr 😭

(Post Writing Note: another day another me poking my emetophobia with a stick like an angry bear, that being said: ⚠️‼️EMETO TW: MENTIONS ONLY, WE DON’T ACTUALLY SEE IT (it happens off screen, so to speak) ‼️⚠️)

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

Vax absolutely adored Vox Machina’s post victory ragers and considering the dragon they’d just killed, he found himself drinking with his friends and destroying some poor innkeeper’s tavern. Some hours ago Scanlan had disappeared upstairs with a rather attractive male tiefling to do god knows what and Grog and Pike lay asleep at a table over in the corner. This left only Vax, Vex, Keyleth, and Percy keeping the party going.

As he glanced around the room, looking for his sister (who definitely wasn’t in the process of swindling a nearby dwarf out of several gold pieces), he spotted Keyleth attempting to lead Percy in a drunken imitation of a waltz. The two of them were giggling and stumbling over each other and Vax was of the opinion that Keyleth had never looked prettier.

Vax’s stomach gave a slight groan to which he gently placed a hand over it. It pressed against his shirt, filled to the brim with tavern food and alcohol. A small gas bubble pressed up his throat and came out in the form of a quiet closed-mouth burp.

He decided he’d better make his escape now while Keyleth was distracted. He could go up to their shared room in the inn and empty his stomach of its troublesome gas before Keyleth was even aware he was gone.

He’d only just made it past the threshold of their room when a sizable belch forced its way up his throat. He placed a hand on his chest in slight surprise, he hadn’t expected that one. He wasn’t too perturbed however, this had been what he’d come up there to do anyway.

Wasting no further time, Vax turned away from the door and pressed his hand onto the top part of his overtaxed stomach. Immediately another deep belch rolled up his chest and out of his open mouth. As soon as it came to an end the door behind him flew open revealing none other than Keyleth, the one person he was trying to avoid at the moment.

He hurriedly removed his hand from his stomach and clamped his lips shut. However, once that first burp had come out he now found it a bit difficult to keep the rest from following its predecessor.

Keyleth passed through the doorway giggling and animatedly telling him a story about a Goliath that had just been rude to her and, he thinks, Percy ended up vomiting on his shoes when he attempted to tell the guy off. Vax isn’t totally sure as all of his focus is currently in keeping the rest of the air in his stomach from making an appearance in front of Keyleth. He’d taken to nodding and smiling through her story instead of actually responding.

“And anyway, Percy’s fine. I think Vex took him back to their room” Keyleth finished.

Vax hummed in acknowledgment.

Apparently, despite her slightly drunken state, Keyleth took notice of his lack of verbal response. “You feeling okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Oh uhh-“ Vax started before he inevitably lost the battle with his stomach.

The belch that rolled out of him was a long one. Long enough, in fact, that he had time to close his mouth part way through, turning it into an extremely deep closed mouth burp.

Keyleth was just staring at him.

Vax lifted a fist to cover his mouth as he stifled a smaller after-burp, “shit, excuse me I’m so sorry Keyleth.” He apologized.

This seemed to break Keyleth out of the sort of shock she’d been in and she stuttered back to life with an awkward jolt.

She hurriedly waved her hands in front of him, “Nononono don’t worry about it, is your stomach hurting? Do you feel sick?” She asked.

Vax shook his head, “No I’ve just got… a bit of gas I’m afraid.”

Keyleth’s shoulders tightened before she spoke “Oh… well I’m glad you aren’t sick, you can keep going I don’t mind. I just want you to feel better.”

As much as he didn’t want to take her up on her offer it was beginning to seem as though he wouldn’t have any other choice. His body was not reacting well to the alcohol and he began to hiccup. His hiccups never lead to anywhere pleasant. Though they were tame at the moment he knew they would devolve in a few short minutes.

And of course, right on cue, he was wracked with another hiccup that quickly turned into an extremely long and painful burp. When it came to an end he brought an open palm to his chest and gently began to rub his own sternum. That one had hurt. Before he had a minute to breathe another hiccup-burp shook his chest. “Oh god” he wheezed.

He looked up to Keyleth who was staring at him like a deer in headlights and weakly gestured towards his back. She seemed to get the message as she began to roughly bring her palm down in between his shoulder blades. This finally managed to jar the rest of the air that was struggling to get out of him. The belch seemed to go on forever and when it finally ended he was gasping in relief.

“Gods that wasn’t fun,” he winced “thanks Keyleth.”

She seemed to start at the sound of her name and snorted a quick “no problem”.

That’s when Vax noticed it for the first time. There was a light rosy tint to Keyleth’s cheeks that hadn’t been there before. Now, her face usually flushed when she’d been drinking but he’d seen her drunk enough times at this point that he knew this was different.

Her strange behavior since she entered the room was finally starting to click. She was into it. She was actually into his gas.

Now Vax wasn’t one to kink-shame, he was friends with Scanlan after all, but the idea of her being attracted to him in any capacity both excited and terrified him. It almost seemed as though his hopelessly unrequited crush on her might not be so unrequited at all.

Shaking that thought out of his head, the mischievous part of his personality began to make an appearance and he found himself wanting to tease her even more than he already had. Against his better judgement, he subtly gulped down more air and smiled wickedly to himself.

This was going to be fun.

[fence-macabre]

Scales of Eidolon - Session Three

A week passes and Fence Macabre finally makes it to Sterling Reach, the homeland of the Qayassiq Tuskarr and the neighboring Blue dragons. The Moa’ki celebrated as their cousins lined the shore, singing, mourning and rejoicing - Fence Macabre certainly felt a sense of accomplishment as they witnessed the special moment. They soon prepared to embark back home.

After being warmly greeted by the Qayassiq and treated to warm soup, the Fence is stopped by Balirien, the stowaway elf from the Wyrmrest Temple. She proposes a deal: Balirien has other time-sensitive tasks needing to be done, if the Fence can deliver a parcel for her to her fellow Blacktalon agents that she lost contact with, they would be paid handsomely!

The Fence takes a few minutes to discuss amongst themselves. Ultimately they decide to accept the terms - those diamonds would really come in handy for the new schoolhouse to be built in Silverpine.

Soon, Fence Macabre was back on the Pride and they arrive on the Burnished Mire, home of Obsidian dragons and dragonkin alike. Together with Neil, one of the Reliquary envoys, they ask the locals about the Blacktalons. Their findings lead them to the island’s Inn and a name: Ilvaia.

As Fence Macabre steps into the Inn, they are met with a Dark Iron dwarven woman hailing herself as the Innkeeper and her dragonspawn assistant. They introduce themselves as Ilvaia and Therabriss, respectively.

After a bit of bartering and throwing out two rowdy, drunken dragonkin out of the Inn, Ilvaia makes a deal with the Fence Macabre: She’d keep an eye out for the next time any Blacktalons come in IF Fence helps her with some paid errands. Fence manages to sweeten the deal with some free lodging in Ilvaia’s inn, but they agree.

Fence begins to settle in for the evening, until suddenly Neil’s tiny, young felhound, Princess, appears at the Inn - without Royalle. Concerned about this absence, Neil decides to go investigate as he parts ways with the Fence for the night.

What will Ilvaia’s errands entail for the Fence? Why wasn’t Royalle with Princess? Only the morning will tell!

[444namesplus]

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[juniperberries-canisroot]

I saw an ask game and no one asked but I gotta do it. This will be about my main girl Chantilly Leice.

Go-to drink order

-Virgin Velvet LaChance & virgin White-Gold Towers. CL doesn't drink alcohol at all, so when she goes with someone who does, she asks Talen-Jei in Riften's Bee & Barb to make the drink without any alcohol in it. If she's at a different tavern or a festival with someone who drinks, she'll act like the 'designated driver' and make sure everyone gets back to the house or inn safely without gettin their shit wrecked in a drunken brawl.

At home makes herself NightShade tea and occasionally canis root tea when she's hanging out with Neloth on Solstheim. She puts milk in her tea thou so Neloth often 'teases' her that at that point, it's milk with a hint of NightShade in it, it's hardly tea anymore.

Scars & Tattoos

-CL has multiple tattoos and scars. Her lower left arm (elbow and below) is a sleeve of her three kids birth flowers (currently I'm undecided on what they will be, I just know she would def get tattoos of them), so she has three large flowers on the lower arm. The flowers also have their birth signs on them (also undecided). Over her chest/heart is lavender, on the back of her neck kind of where the neck and spine meet is a small Dragons Tongue. She plans on gettin her husband Marcurio's birth flowers tattoo'd on her somewhere (currently undecided what it will be). All her tattoos have meaning to them. She also did all them herself. The lavender was her first one, followed by the Dragons Tongue then the sleeve of flowers.

For scars, she has two large symmetrical- and to quote her husband Marcurio, 'don't look like they were caused by somethin natrual'- scars that extends over her entire back, mirrored over her spine. They do have a story, one I have a general idea on how she got them but haven't fine tuned the details.

She has a small scar from the stab/slash wound Mercer puts on her in SnowVeil Sacntum on her shoulder. I don't actually know where Mercer strikes our character, it looks to be the shoulder or neck area to me. I HC that he already thought our character was going to die from Karliah's arrow so he puts a wound on our player as insult to injury, he wasn't actually tryin to land a lethal blow. He just wanted the last hit to be a lil shithead.

CL also has small scar from where Karliah's arrow struck her on her chest.

She has various other random scars over her body too just from living in Skyrim and the type of rough life it is.

[rememberences]

♟

there was a slow movement to the pace and the chatter that surrounded them, the king consort of the vale focusing mostly on the intake of breath that came. his dark, grey orbs remained fixated on the sight of the man who was sprawled within the sand, his visor being forcibly pulled off. there was not the faintest idea in his mind that would identify the seemingly seething young knight before him, who was being all but man handled by various knights of the vale and the guards of house targaryen too. he barely even registered the sudden feeling of many others stood beside him, not until he heard the rasp of a familiar voice; the master of ships, lord grafton.

"steady on, lads." graham's casual voice came upon hearing the usual cursing, his tone not scolding, but an attempt to defuse the situation. the attack was obvious, plainly obvious: but they did not need to seem shaken. his hand came to rest upon the shoulder of the master of ships, who, if given the opportunity, would give the man a royal roughing up. more than that, for whilst jack grafton was a skilled knight of the vale, his style of fighting could go from polished to that found during a drunken brawl within an inn. in the momentarily mayhem, graham looked up to see the queen of the vale already upon a feet: walking towards the dragon king, with winter following in her wake.

"let us hope not. situation is tense enough following my conversation with lord velaryon." where graham had all but told him the dragon would not be returned to the crownlands, lest it were dead. still, jack's question made graham pause; they were upon the lands of the dragons. it would be the responsibility of the dragon's to locate the belongings of the man, in an attempt to use them to identify him. only, could they afford to wait? "aye, order to start to search. it'd be best to join with the dragons, rather than push. extra hands to work."

it was then a low exhale came from his mouth, his hand resting on the shadow of his dark beard. the vale courtiers were outraged, the majority of them risen out of their seats; stone faced and resiliant. how much change they had all seen, how much twisted tragedy, and again they were so close to another change. graham silently remarked on the fact he had been nearly killed, and immediately knew why it was. he leaned forwards, brushing the sand from himself, his movements nonchalant but his mind already heavier than it was merely moments ago. graham royce knew what it was to have enemies on the battlefield. but this was another matter entirely.

"look here. i'm okay, yeah?" he spoke, in an attempt to root the master of ships back to the ground, rather than remain lost in his fury. "the men need settling."

It was a day of games, a day of fun. They were competing and as was the honorable thing all Knights of the Vale were in the list. They were the best of them. The men who invented chivarly as all the realm knew it and yet, as he watched the mystery knight lead forward and then turn his horse he jumped on the bench he was sat upon and began to shout along with the others. Cheating? In a joust? He expected no honor in a place like the Crownlands but it still took the knight off guard. He downed the rest of his skin of black beer. "AYE! Ya ruddy cunt!"

They were making their way over to King, a group of them who carried the colors of the Eyrie proudly alongside their one. They were men of the Vale, men of the Mountain. First Men and Andal alike. "We're comin' ya grace." He grabbed one of his men by the shirt and pushed him toward the others taking hold of the mystery knight, "go on, get over 'dere. Make sure he can't fookin walk away until we be ready for him."

As he walked over he knew his King was fine because he knew Graham Royce was fine. Not only were he a man, he were a man of the mountain, a man of the Rune. They were some of the oldest of them, their house represented all facets of knighthood. No better man could have been made their King. It were a slippery ride into the seat but who mourned the old one? The stupid cunt who let them mountain clans breech the gate. No one mourned him. No one that mattered anyhow.

"Queen's gonna give Targaryen what for, ya know." He stood before him, others standing behind him waiting. "Ya want me lads to search out his stuff?"

[tastesoftamriel]

The Drunken Dragon Inn

Our special menu featuring the finest tipples from across Tamriel!

Starters

Argonian Ale battered slaughterfish bites, with garlicky tartar sauce

Gin-flambéed crawfish, with homemade herb butter

Molten camembert, with comberry and Russafeld Heights prosecco chutney and sourdough grissini

Blackwood chicken skewers, with Colovian brandy and moon sugar glaze

Mains

Orange flin-glazed duck, with fruit and nut stuffing

Eidar cheese, jagga, and wild mushroom tart, with rucola and West Weald parmesan salad

30 day aged Gweden Farm wagyu steak, with Surilie Brothers red wine gravy

Venison steak tartare, with pine thrush egg and sujamma flambé

Dessert

Cheese board with homemade sourdough crackers: Perry-washed soft cheese, port cheddar, cherry brandy gouda, orange liqueur cream cheese

Limoncello and mint sherbet, with candied lemon zest

75% dark chocolate and chili lava cake, with chocolate-absinthe frosting

Amaretto soufflé, with drunken cherry compote

[twoiafart]

The death of Bold Jon Roxton Artwork by Ertaç Altinöz  

Seasmoke proved even more devastating than the riverlanders, setting alight tents and pavilions—including those belonging to Ser Hobert, Lord Unwin, and even Prince Daeron. To fight the dragon would require more dragons, but the dragonriders were asleep: Daeron in his tent, Ulf White in a drunken stupor at an inn, and Hard Hugh Hammer abed with the widow of a knight killed at the First Battle of Tumbleton. Hard Hugh was the first to wake, and he prepared to mount Vermithor when Bold Jon Roxton seized his chance, opening him from groin to throat with the Valyrian steel sword Orphan-Maker. (Roxton managed to kill three more of the Hammer’s followers before he was himself killed—some said by slipping on Hard Hugh’s remains.)