#I am not even sure if the north will be a kingdom in it's own right in the books

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 17

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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I have a house now. One more month until move in.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You leave the queen, stepping into the gales that whip around the outer flap of her tent. You reach to keep your cap from flying into the violent winds, the soldiers with their chins down as they lean against the force. Before you can gain your bearings, a shadow appears and calls your name, battling the weather to be heard. 

“Eh, where is your cloak, silly mouse? You will blow away with the leaves,” Bryce approaches, latching onto your arm as the bluster swirls around you, nearly taking you off your feet. 

“I am fine, sir, I only need find a blanket,” you stumble against him as another willful gust pushes you around.  

“That isn’t what I asked. What has happened to it? You’ve lost it?” 

“The queen was cold, sir,” you answer and cling to him, shivering as the tempest swirls around you. 

“The queen... greedy...” his voice trails off as her sneers towards the tent. 

“Sir,” you touch his arm gently to calm him, “she needs it more than I. She is expecting the king’s child.” 

He looks at you and juts out his jaw, “aye, s’pose you’re right, even if you’re too kind for yer own good.” 

He turns you and grips you tightly, shielding you as best he can against the wind. Your progress is slow and stunted by the sudden ebbs and flows. He grunts as you stagger and steadies you, at times almost lifting you off your feet. 

“Sir Bryce,” a deep voice slices through the whistle of the winds, “a storm approaches.” 

The king nears, his sword gripped by the pommel as he leans it against hit shoulder. His golden eyes flick towards you, as if he had not seen you in the shadow of your escort. He raises his chin and returns his attention to the soldier. He angles his blade to the ground and the tip buries in the dirt. 

“Aye, it surely does,” Bryce agrees, “I’ve seen a worst tempest in my years.” 

“Sir,” Geralt holds out his hands and a glisten appears on his sleeve. You lean in without a thought, curious, then feel a cold speck on your nose. You look up and see the white flakes drifting down. “It will not remain so peaceful. It comes from the north and will deepen by morning.” 

“Shall we wake the camp?” Bryce asks and you sway with the wind. Once more, the king’s attention strays to you, he frowns. 

“Not as yet. Let the horses rest a little longer. They will be able to handle a dusting,” he affirms. “but I will harry the men to prepare for our departure.” 

“As will I. I’ll be certain the carts are covered and weighted.” 

“Sir, ever wise,” King Geralt praises and scowls at you. He shakes his head and huffs, “why does the maid wear no cloak? She will not survive in this, summer soul, she is.” 

“Aye, yes, I was only just telling her as much. Seems her heart is too big for her thin hide,” Bryce tuts, “we were only off to find her a blanket before she sleeps.” 

“Blanket, eh,” the king lets go of his blade, letting it stand in the ground. He unbuckles his collar and sweeps his cloak from around his shoulder, “I have my hunting cloak and I don’t mind the snow so much.” 

Before you can react, the king lays his heavy cloak over your shoulders. It is longer than your height requires and it smells of sweat and iron. You lower your head at the warmth clinging to the lined wool. 

“Your highness, many thanks, but I might find a blanket--” 

“Do not defy your king,” Bryce rebukes, “mouse, you would do well to accept his grace. You will certainly need it if these winds do not pass.” 

“Apologies,” you utter, “sir, your highness, you are both generous.” 

King Geralt grumbles and nods, looking once more to the sky as he grabs his sword. 

“The Ridge, Vulture’s Peak... it isn’t far. The castle will do, eh?” 

“Not far at all, your highness,” Bryce agrees. “It would do you well to let your wife rest. Many congratulations, my king.” 

“Congratulations? For what? Smelling a storm?” the king furrows his brow. 

“Oi, I think I’ve said too much,” Bryce glances at you. 

“Say more,” the king commands. The soldier sighs and sheepishly shows his teeth.  

“Please, maid, would ya...” He mutters. 

“Your highness, the queen said she is with child,” you swallow, “I only just came from her tent. I believed you were aware. I did not mean to gossip.” 

“Child,” his eyes sink and close. He hums and heaves a deep breath, “yes, she would need to be still a time.” 

“Your highness, again, you have my apologies--” 

“No matter,” the king waves his hand. “Take the maid, I shall see to my wife.” 

The king resumes his path onward, sword in hand. He hardly shares in Jazlene’s cheer for the news. Perhaps it is only the threat of the storm that has him unhappy.  

You bring your hands to the dark fur along the collar of the cloak and draw it snug. You chatter and Bryce clucks. He nudges you and you walk forward in step. 

“So the snows have come,” Bryce declares, “along with the heir. I sense many storms brewing, mouse. Best keep our eyes on the horizon.” 

⚔️

You don’t sleep for long, if at all. Only the shallow dregs of your anticipation. You watch the snow fall from beneath the canopy and as the horses are roused and fed before dawn, a carpet coats the ground. 

You peer down at the powder. You wonder what it feels like. Cold and wet, Bryce says, but don’t dirty your soles, you’ll be soaked. He remains, as ever, cynical. 

“Be off soon,” he says as he brings Daisy around, a thick coat over her back and haunches. 

“To Vulture’s Peak?” You ask. 

“Aye, so we will,” he pets Daisy’s snout as she sniffs him. “though our host may not be so fond to have us.” 

“Host? It is not the king’s castle?” 

“Ha, no, no,” Bryce laughs heartily, “a king can’t live on a desolate bluff. By fealty, a lord must break bread and offer a roof to his king. It might be his company which has him facing a cold welcome.” 

“Oh,” you frown. 

“Ah, even this old coot won’t deny us in the coming storm. He has sense of these better than any,” Bryce shrugs. “Don’t worry your head. You stay in your cart and Daisy will do the rest. She’s a fine climber--” 

“Out of my way!” The curdling snarl interrupts the soldier and you both look to see the source. “Move, by gods, I am the queen, be away from me.” 

You get to your knees, leaning on the edge of the wagon to see out from under the canopy. A scatter of bodies split apart as Queen Jazlene struts through, the fur cloak rippling from her shoulders and the hood set back on her head as her curls spill out. She sneers at the snow beneath her slippers. 

“Ah, I did hear there was a cart around here—ugh, out,” she points as she marches up to the cart, “by royal right, I am seizing this cart.” 

“Eh,” Bryce moves closer, “your highness, the king--” 

“I cannot sit a horse, sir,” she rests her gloved hand over her stomach. “Or would you murder the future prince with your selfishness. All for a--” she pauses and glowers over at you, rolling her eyes. “A maid?” 

You rise and snatch up the cloak you’d used as a blanket. You keep bent under the low canopy and climb out with the cushion under your arm. 

“Sir, the queen is right, she should have the cart, I will sit with the luggage.” 

He huffs and sends a grimace to the sky, unable to direct his malice towards its source, “if she must...” 

“I must!” The queen snaps and yanks the pillow from your hands, “I will need this, certainly.” 

You stand aside, staring at the pillow dolefully, and buckle the top of your cloak. The queen pauses as she faces you. She looks you up and down. 

“Where did you find this then?” She touches the collar of the cloak. 

“It is my spare cloak,” Bryce insists before you can answer, “what else do you require, your highness? Shall we bring a lamb to sacrifice?” 

“Hm, is that how you northerners worship?” She sneers, missing his irony. 

He blinks dully and says nothing. 

“Well, secure the horse, I will need to be drawn.” 

“It is my horse,” Bryce insists, “you may bridle your own.” 

“You dare deny me?” She snarls at him as the soldiers with her stand on either side of the cart. 

“You may take it up with your husband. This is my steed, she carried me to war and she will carry me henceforth,” he snips. 

Bryce and Jazlene glare at each other. You look between them nervously. You don’t know who King Geralt might choose in this battle should he be called. 

“Fine, fetch the stinky thing,” Jazlene demands of one of the soldiers, “and blankets, another pillow, perhaps something to eat.” 

The cast of the sky shifts with the first light of the sun and Bryce grabs both horses and leads them aside. He whistles for you to follow. You come to him as Chestnut and Daisy cluelessly puff into the cold air. 

“You will ride. I will not have that... queen seizing my horse,” he sniffs, “I will show you how once I’ve saddled the mare.” 

“Oh, yes, sir.” You look up at the horses back. It seems very high. 

“You will want to be aback anyhow,” he shrugs, “you’ll not want to miss the mountain. It is very beautiful, especially in the snow.” 

⚔️

The party continues onward, treacherously. As the snow falls, the train diverts away from the flats and onto the narrow paths speckled with broken trunks and towering trees. The smell of pine tickles your nose as you ascend, bit by bit. 

It takes some time to grow used to the motion of the horse. Daisy’s hooves are certain and she does not slip on even the most precarious spots. Bryce rides behind you, booming about each nook and cranny, pointing out the white rabbits and the wilted fauna. His enthusiasm is unexpected but endearing. 

You ride until the moon replaces the sun and dismount along the side of the great cliff. There is no room here to pitch a tent and only a few fires burn along the ridge. Your hips ache as the soldier grunts about his back. 

“I should see to the queen,” you suggest as you rub your hands together. 

“She must have many fawning over her,” Bryce spits out a wad of leaves and squashes it under his feet. 

“I am her maid--” 

“And we are on a long road. She might go without you minding her temper,” he snarls. 

You frown, “I am not upset. She needs the cart more than me.” 

“It isn’t that which sees me chagrined,” he growls. “It’s those deeds you will not admit of that traitor’s daughter which make me prickle.” 

You’re quiet. You look away, your eyes wandering up into the sky, watching the snow swirl down, following it down to the ground far below. The heaps are immaculate in the moonlight and the trim of white along the ridge gleams. 

“I am a maid.” 

“I know little of your summer people but if that is how they treat those who serve them, perhaps this alliance was not so wise,” he grumbles as he steps up beside you, “perhaps it would’ve been better to submit such cruel nobles.” 

“Sir,” you say, shocked and peer over at his profile. His beard has grown to meet his cloak, his hair coiling down to his shoulders. 

“I serve my king, as I ever will, but I will not bend the knees to a snake,” he hisses and crosses his arms. 

“We are united, aren’t we? Summer and Winter,” you reach to touch his thick hide mitt. 

“Aye, yes, I do not seek another battle,” he exhales. “I am only wary of those who may.” 

You squint. Your mind returns to Lord Dustan and what he said to his daughter. The heir is their prize, an affirmation of the bounty earned by their betrayal, but also a chain to that very act. To the man they forsook their name for. A man they speak as kindly on as they had their former allies. 

“Might I walk?” You draw your hand from his. “My legs are sore.” 

“Not too far. And keep your eyes open,” he girds, “and your hands in your cloak. You needn’t frostbite.” 

You nod and he turns to you. He pulls up the hood of your cloak and pats your shoulder. 

“Tarry too long and I’ll look for you,” he warns. 

“Sir,” you shift slowly and step past him. 

You trod higher up the incline as you marvel over the edge. Bodies huddles together beneath cloaks and blankets, nestling for warmth against the wall of the cliff. You carry on and stop near a luggage cart, close to the drop. You hold out your hand, letting snow gather in your palm. It is cold, bitterly and painfully cold, but so beautiful. You bring it closer and watch it slowly melt as your hand numbs. 

“Do you remember...” the king’s voice drawls over you as his soft steps approach. “What I told you of this place?” 

You look at him. He is lit by the moonlight, his golden eyes like stars, and his jaw is bristly with thickening stubble. You bow your head, “your highness, are the bears already asleep in their caves?” 

He chuckles, “you do recall,” he praises, “not yet, though they do not come this high.” 

“And the wolves? Are they near?” 

“They are always prowling,” he says, shifting closer, his arm pressing to yours. He bends slightly to peer straight down, “the elk will be in the forests.” He points to the snowcapped tips of the distant trees, “here, the vultures have their nests. Their eggs,” he curves his hands to show the size, “I made a writ, years ago. It is forbidden to eat the eggs. I always found it quite tragic to desecrate the majestic creatures before they can even be borne. Before they can fly even.” 

“Vultures? I’ve never seen one? They are... birds?” 

“Yes, birds,” he confirms.  

He is silent as he considers his kingdom below. His breath is gritty as it rises and falls. He has much to think on. A child, a wife, and his homecoming delayed by a storm. 

“One thing has changed here, in these lands of winter,” he says lowly and you feel a ripple in your cloak. He presses his hand firmly to your back, sliding it along your side to grasp your hip. He moves to stand behind you and brings you close. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your crown, “I said before, there is no summer here,” he holds you, pulling his cloak around you, concealing you within it as he drapes himself around you, “summer is here. With me. Warm and gentle.” 

You go rigid as he holds you, your heart beating at the unexpected embrace, at the unseemly contact between you. He hums as he stands with you in the shadows of the cart, so brazenly covert. Anyone might happen upon you and yet they all hide away from the storm. 

“Your highness,” you stammer and quiver against him. 

“Treasure,” he purrs, “my treasure. The one good thing I’ve brought home...” 

You can’t breathe or think. Is he drunk? Confused? What does he mean? 

“I--” he begins but the kick of a rock quiets him, the stone bouncing off the cart’s wheel. 

A shadow stalks down the precipice towards you and the king detaches, uncovering you from his cloak. He faces the figure as the tramp up the incline. You hear the king shudder as he tickles your back. 

“There’s the mouse,” Bryce says as he comes into the moonlight, his brow and jaw set, though he doesn’t look at you. He looks at the king, almost defiant. “You shouldn't be out so long in the cold. Exposed,” he grits, “come, I’ve sparked us a fire.” 

King Geralt clears his throat, “thank you, sir.” 

“My king,” Bryce says as he beckons to you, “I will keep the maid safe. As you bid.” 

[esther-dot]

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PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - POST CANON

[muffinlance]

Would you be willing to do one where the g'aang meets zuko with his dragons and is like? Wtf? Because I would appreciate the image of aang seeing thw dragons and going, can I pet em, while sokka or katara is like, can I fight dragons? No, no I cannot, and the other is going, not evil fire lord, bet. Please?

(Continued from parts one, two, and three.)

“My older brother should have had the throne, of course,” said the man Aang had come to meet. “But he was still mourning for his son, when… Well, when I think of it now, it was the beginning. My father, poisoned in his bedchambers. My wife, missing in the night. It took me years to piece together what must have happened. It was unthinkable, for a child so young to…”

Aang swallowed thickly, his hands balls on his legs. “Zuko… did all that?”

“When he was younger than you are now. There was always something wrong with that child,” former Fire Lord Ozai said, from between the ruin of his twisted lips in his scared face. Aang wasn’t sure how much farther the scaring extended, but… but he could see it creeping down under the man’s collar, emerging again on his hands. “I was not—I am not—a good man, Avatar Aang. I know that. I was like King Kuei, sheltered in my palace, unaware of the true extent of this war. A spare prince; I was never meant to rule. Neither was he. But obstacles were removed from his path, one by one, until I was the only one who stood in his way. I was not a good man, Avatar. But I would never try to kill my own father.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Aang said. “And… I accept your offer, Sifu Ozai.”

Sokka and Katara shifted behind him, uneasily. Long Feng gave no sign as to his opinion, beyond being the one to make this meeting with the Fire Nation’s rebel leader possible. But there were very few firebenders not under Fire Lord Zuko’s control. Aang had to learn from someone. And… at least Ozai understood, how dangerous fire could be.

* * *

Earth King Kuei had thrown out the treaty his advisors had spent so long negotiating, and slapped together his own private agreement with Fire Lord Zuko after only a few days; Ba Sing Se and the eastern part of the continent were left intact and under Kuei’s reign, while the western coast was handed off to the Fire Nation as tribute. 

The North Pole’s borders remained closed.

The South had been the first nation pressed into an end-of-war treaty, while the Fire Lord’s dragons watched on.

The Air Nomads… if there were any left, still hiding somewhere, they hadn’t come out for Aang.

* * *

Master Yagoda wasn’t a fighter, and claimed that one world journey was quite enough for her lifetime. She’d remained in the South Pole after Aang’s training there was complete, to help her new tribe.

Long Feng’s responsibilities as the Earth Kingdom’s own rebel leader made it inadvisable for him to place himself in enemy hands. The Fire Lord and King Kuei were close; if Long Feng were taken prisoner, he would be handed off to Ba Sing Se for a quick trial, and likely a quicker execution. 

Sifu Ozai’s injuries made it impossible for him to truly fight by Aang’s side, of course, even if he didn’t face an even swifter death than Long Feng should they be captured on Fire Nation soil.

But this was Aang’s job. He was the Avatar, so he had to do this. He had to give all the nations of the world a chance to grow, free from the Fire Lord’s enforced peace. 

“We’re not leaving you now,” Katara said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her brother mirrored her, a moment later.

They’d started as his escorts, in this terrifying new world. He’d trained under the same master Katara had; learned everything there was to know about healing, from Master Yagoda, who’d used the false peace to travel south. Healing was… it was so much better, than the training Sifu Long Feng had put him through, the precise way earthbending could be used to contain or kill. Or Sifu Ozai’s lessons, hard learned, about just how much fire it took to truly stop a fellow bender. At least Ozai had been sympathetic to Aang’s concerns, to the culture only he seemed to remember. Ozai didn’t want his son dead, either. He still loved him, even after what he’d done. He just… wanted him stopped. 

Fire didn’t kill easily. But it could definitely stop someone. And then Aang could heal him, and just… keep him in jail. The Fire Lord had a little sister, kept hostage all these years, who Ozai thought might still be convinced to join them. She could be the new Fire Lord, with Ozai as her regent. And then the Earth King’s main ally would be gone, and Long Feng could go back to reclaim his home for the people, instead of the nobility who’d grown rich on war without ever stepping foot outside of their walled inner city. 

And. And Aang could travel, and relearn this world, and practice his healing more. That was what the world really needed: healing. 

But it was like Yagoda had taught him. Sometimes a break had to be reset, before it could really heal.

* * *

It was… really easy, getting into the Fire Nation palace. They rolled Appa in soot, and came in the night. Landed on a roof. Entered through an upper window on an inner courtyard, where guards wouldn’t think to stand watch. The Fire Nation had uncontested aerial supremacy, after all.

They knew where the Fire Lord’s rooms were; they were Ozai’s old ones. They were also very empty. Which they’d been warned about, because apparently the Fire Lord did his best evil planning at night when his advisors couldn’t reign him in. 

There was the flicker of candlelight under the sliding doors to his office. And… no guards. Which led to a round of is-this-the-right-place looks shared between them, but. This was where the map Ozai had given them said to go. So they had another round of looks, with resolute nods this time, and then Katara was sliding open the door as he and Sokka ran in and…

…And a very tired looking servant was standing in front of a desk, shuffling papers around like there was something he’d missed in them. His long hair was partially tied up in a frazzled bun, but mostly down his back. He blinked at them through a pair of glasses that were almost an exact match for the ones in fashion at King Kuei’s court, like he’d gotten them from the same artisan. And also there were some ink stains on his face, like maybe he’d fallen asleep on some still-drying documents. So… maybe a scribe? 

“Where’s the Fire Lord?” Sokka demanded, club raised.

“...I can see the family resemblance,” said the servant, who had turned fully to face them, and oh. He… had the Fire Lord’s scar. And there was the Fire Lord’s crown, being used as a paperweight at the edge of the desk. 

“Does Chief Hakoda know his children are here to assassinate his ally—” Fire Lord Zuko said.

“ ‘Ally’ is a little strong,” interrupted Sokka.

“—Or do the Water Tribes have their own ‘rebel leader’ now?”

“ ‘Assassinate’ is a little strong, too,” Aang said softly, shuffling his feet, his hands tight around his staff.

The Fire Lord stared at him a moment. “...Ah. So my father would prefer that you maim me, and drop me in a dark cell for the rest of my life?” 

“Umm.”

Zuko stared, and stared, and then pushed up his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Listen. Can we just… reschedule this?” 

“Reschedule,” Katara repeated. “This.”

“You haven’t attacked me yet, so this isn’t technically a diplomatic incident. It’s just… a scheduling conflict?”

Sokka snorted, and then looked vaguely angry at himself. Katara elbowed him. Aang kept gripping his glider, but maybe a little less tightly.

“We got news of an earthquake on Shojima not even two candlemarks ago,” the Fire Lord said, sliding his glasses back down. “Which means the tsunami is on its way to the main coast by now, if it hasn’t hit already, and I need to get these out if the relief supplies are going to be on their way by morning. So we can either have a really fast assassination attempt and then I have to add ‘explain to the world why the Fire Lord killed the Avatar and a nation’s heirs’ to my schedule sometime this week. Or we can talk first, but I don’t have time for that, so can we reschedule this to…”

And the very evil Fire Lord turned away from them to begin shuffling through his papers.

“First,” Sokka said, pointing a finger at the teenager, “Aang would be more than a quick fight, rude. Second: I’m still working on the second, but seriously, rude. And third, what do you mean you’d put our fiery-death-explanations into your schedule sometime this week?”

The Fire Lord didn’t seem to be listening. But he’d apparently found his appointment book, so that was good? Except for all the flipping.

“I can do… lunch tomorrow? If you’re okay with actually eating while we talk. I’m not allowed to skip meals, or Captain Izumi cancels my appointments ‘for national security’.”

Sokka slowly lowered down his pointing finger. 

“Talking would be good,” Aang said. “I like talking.”

And then they got to meet Captain Izumi, which was a lot scarier than meeting the Fire Lord.

And then they realized that what they’d thought was vaguely tacky dragon-print paneling along two walls was actual dragon skin and this wasn’t an office it was an open-air veranda and—

“Quick fight” might have been an accurate prediction, yes. 

More accurate than Sifu Ozai’s map.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)

[fioreofthemarch]

kin

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1270 [✨this is a companion piece to repast and yearnings]

When at last Zelda was returned to the present, it was all she could do not to dwell on the past.

The memories of her time as a dragon were gone, but the subconscious remained. She felt unsteady on her feet, disliked being cooped up without a view of the sky, and often dreamt of flying, always waking with a lingering sense of loss. 

It was a guilty feeling. She had gotten everything she’d wanted. The Demon King was gone, Hyrule was saved, and Link - Link! - he was alive and they were finally free to go about their lives in long-awaited peace.  

And yet?

“You look as though you’ve forgotten something,” Purah had said to her when they’d last spoken in Lookout Landing. Zelda agreed, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. 

An answer came to her in Hateno, while she and Link were visiting their house by the river. Link had built them a new home in Akkala, and was sure that Zelda would enjoy rearranging it to her liking, if she didn’t mind moving house. So there in Hateno, while Zelda was sorting through her things and trying to decide what to take, something bright and blue caught her eye – a dragon! A spirit of cool, calm wisdom, passing silently overhead. 

At that moment, what was forgotten became clear. She burst from the house, arms waving, crying – “Sister!”

But the dragon never slowed, only kept on as sure as the wind. Then she was rounding north, slipping down towards the horizon, and then she was gone. 

Zelda sank down onto the grass, hands clasped tight and catching tears she didn’t know were falling. Naydra no longer knew her; they’d shared the skies for millenia, and yet! 

“Maybe she just doesn’t recognise you,” Link said upon finding her like this, his voice a steadying presence, as were his sure hands leading her back inside. “You’ve changed since she saw you last.” 

“For the better, right?”

He grinned, “I loved you just as much either way.”

After this Zelda tried, earnestly, to let life go on. The Akkala house was perfect, and only needed some nicer furnishings, maybe a painting or two, or a bigger garden. When not working on that, Zelda found her thoughts returning to the dragons – she charted Dinraal’s path over Akkala, drawing it on a map she kept in her study. Then, when the need arose to travel to Hateno, she did the same for Naydra, and later Farosh too, when she and Link travelled south to visit the Gerudo. Once the map was complete, it occurred to her that the three dragons formed a distinct triangle, each guarding their own corner of Hyrule. And that’s when knew what to do. 

“I was here for longer than I can even say,” she explained to Link, after convincing him to take her to the Great Sky Island. “The three dragons visited me here every day, at the centre of the Kingdom.” 

They stood on the roof of the Temple of Time, where Link had landed the ballooncraft he had made them. The skies were clear, and all of Hyrule could be seen below. He asked Zelda what exactly she planned to do, and she admitted she didn’t really know. She just had to try something. Link gave her an understanding nod, and stepped back to let her proceed. 

Zelda clasped her hands at her chest. She focused, felt all the yearning and regret, all the nostalgia for younger days, and let them flow from her like a lighthouse beacon – a single wish that cascaded from her very soul. Her secret stone, still worn around her neck, began to glow hot against her skin, in concert with the ancient royal mark on her right hand. I am here. Come to me!

How long she stood like that she did not know, but eventually she felt the air grow hot and cold all at once. 

The sight when she opened her eyes was all but beyond words; three great and immortal dragons, servants of the very Goddess herself, gathered together before the Temple. Their bodies flowed like rivers, irridescent scales scattering light, long horns shimmering with diffuse elemental power. Summoned here, the dragons hovered in place; Dinraal to the left, Farosh to the right and Naydra in the middle. 

Zelda bowed. She shook from nerves. Did the dragons hear her call? What was their answer? There was silence, except the wind, until at last Zelda heard a voice.

Sister, the dragon Naydra said, you are changed. 

You have become small and fragile, said the dragon Dinraal. 

You have joined the swordsman as a mortal, said the dragon Farosh. 

“You know me?” Zelda said, barely able to breathe. Behind her, Link stood tall and firm, though his body was tense. It was no small thing to treat with the gods. 

You were not easy to spot, Naydra said. Your light however was very familiar.

A great power summoned us here, sister. We are impressed, Dinraal said. 

As are we curious, Farosh added. Speak your command. 

Still Zelda did not know why exactly she had called them. There had to be something that she had wanted to say…

“Zelda… are you okay?” Link said, with a hint of fear in his voice. It was enough to steel her. She couldn’t tarry here. Immortal though her sisters were, she did not want to waste their time. 

“I am okay,” she answered, and she knew why.

Turning to Naydra, Dinraal and Farosh, Zelda bowed again, long and low. Rising, she said, “I was no one, adrift in an open sky, until I awoke in your company. I had done something terrible and forbidden, but you accepted me as one of your own, and stayed with me until my task was complete. And even now that I have left you, you remember me. This kindness…” she brushed tears from her cheeks, composing herself. “I must thank you. I wish there was a way to repay your generosity.” 

The dragons hovered, eyes bright and piercing. Zelda felt foolish; sentimental words probably meant little to them. But then, together, they bowed their heads in return. After a long moment, they broke formation and began to move through the air once more, silently circling the Temple of Time in a spiral of ice, flame and static.  

“Was that ‘offer accepted’?” Link asked with a nervous laugh. 

Dinraal departed first, heading north for Akkala. Then Farosh followed, turning south for Gerudo. Only Naydra remained. She flew down towards the roof of the temple, and landed on its parapets gentler than a feather. Placing her head down so that her and Zelda’s eyes were level, she blinked slow and calm. 

Beloved sister, she said, things done for kin need never be repaid.  

Then, a single tear falling from her eye, the dragon Naydra ascended from the roof, and flew east. Zelda watched until she disappeared from view, her own tears falling free. Not all memories were lost, she realised, but the past would always be the past, and that was its own kind of loss. 

Still, the future was calling. It came in the form of a warm and gentle hand – Link, threading his fingers into hers. “Home?” he said. Zelda nodded, knowing what he meant, but feeling that she was already there as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Good, I’ve got an apple pie in the oven that you might like.”

With a laugh she returned his radiance, fresh but happy tears falling. “I think I might,” she said. And so they went, leaving the sky behind. 

[veryace-ficrecs]

Zuko Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

When in Doubt, Go to the Library by Returquoise - Rated T

"I am Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things, and this is my library, my domain," he answered instead, "Who are you, mortal?" The boy hesitated but answered, "I... was Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. My... the Fire Lord has banished me, with no recourse to return." aka Wan Shi Tong adopts Zuko AU

5 times Zuko called the Avatar Grandpa… by SeleneMoon - Rated G

...and 1 time Aang asked why Hopefully updating every two days.

hello moon, it's me by chaoticsandstorm - Rated M

"There a lot of things about Zuko that the servants ignore. He is half-way between skins now. He shed the old one and hasn’t grown into the new one, trapped between worlds and skins and identities. Some days he feels more like Li the war-child refugee than Zuko, the Fire Lord." Zuko attempts to lead his nation into peace, kicking and screaming in protest. He discovers what it means to survive a war- and a childhood- that no one ever wanted or expected him to.

Scriven Me Softly by SensationalSunburst - Rated G

“It’s a piece of history,” He argued and she was, as always, shocked at the rolling gravel that flowed quietly from his mouth, “We must preserve it.” And Mae, who’d spent hours scrubbing the ghost of bloodied fingerprints from her brushes and days willing the scratch of pen to paper to drown out the sound of the Fire Princess's wailing; had looked at the child clutching ruined parchment to his chest and suddenly understood like a punch to the jaw why Prince Iroh had to be physically restrained from murdering his brother in cold blood. Or The early days of Firelord Zuko's reign as described by his Royal Stenographer.

blade of silver, forge of blue by MikkiOfTheAnbu - Rated T

“Blessed Spirit, we thank you for the gift of this child’s life. We are forever in your debt.” The whole village is kneeling now, even the tiniest toddlers flopped down on their stomachs doing their best approximation of a bow. “Please, won’t you give us a name to call you? We would like to properly express our gratitude.” Oh. Well shit. (Where Zuko saves a little Earth Kingdom girl from drowning, the villagers think he's a Spirit, build him a shrine, and long story short, a fake story about the Blue Spirit who dances with dragons suddenly becomes very real.)

Perfection is Overrated by JaggedCliffs - Rated G

For his first thirteen years, Zuko was raised in a palace. And yet somehow, it's the three years outside the Fire Nation that seem to count more – at least to the palace staff, who act like he's been raised by fox-wolves. At first, this only annoys Zuko. Until he begins to think that the Fire Nation needs more than a formerly-banished prince.

What the Fire Lord did to his Son by hearmerory - Rated T

Toph knew the story. Every Earth Kingdom child did. About how the prince of the Fire Nation had been burned in front of an audience of hundreds, and then sent away to sail Earth Kingdom waters on a pointless search. The Earth Kingdom knew the kind of man the Fire Lord was. And Toph knew the kind of boy the Fire Prince had been.

The Cavern and the Koi Pond by Rosie447 - Rated G

The last thing Zuko remembered clearly was being on the bridge in the North Pole, and losing his grip on the railing with the sudden realization that offering mercy to the man who’d thrown fire at his back the last time he’d beaten him was perhaps not amongst his best ideas. Or, Zhao takes Zuko's hand and pulls. The Spirit World is not entirely sure what to do with the unexpected stowaway.

How to Make a Spirit Fox by DevinePhoenix - Rated G

Everyone is born with animal features, a reflection of the spirit animal that represents their soul. Zuko is born as a fox in a royal family of cats. Also at some point he impersonates a spirit so well no one believes him when he says that he's not.

put the weight on me by orphan_account - Rated T

“I think he’s sick.” Bato says flatly. “So unless you want the next meeting to include the Fire Lord puking all over the budget scrolls, maybe see if he's okay?” Hakoda glances up the hallway, like perhaps Katara will appear and take over dealing with the prickly teenager. Of course, his daughter is off treating injured refugees with the Avatar, and Bato is still staring at him expectantly, arms crossed. “Fine,” He sighs, and he claps Bato on the cheek before heading into the room. Or: Zuko falls ill not long after Ozai's defeat. Hakoda sits with him and learns some unpleasant truths about his childhood.

fulminate by entropy_muffin - Rated T

The sun sets on the Day of Black Sun. The coronation is held at dawn.

We Are All Doomed by renegade_of_theworld - Rated G

Palace staff has VERY bad timing... they think that Fire Lord Zuko will kill them all. Zuko doesn't know what is going on. OR Palace staff gossips. And it looks like Fire Lord Zuko is worse than Ozai.

things lost in the fire by earlgreylover98 - Rated G

The wanted poster had the scar on the wrong side.

Maybe he didn’t care enough to look at the poster before it got sent out. Or maybe, Ozai didn’t actually remember which side of his son’s face he had burned off all those years ago. Zuko wasn’t sure what was worse. Ozai had know which side the scar was on. He had to remember. Right?

In which Zuko isn't sure Ozai knows which side of his face he burnt off and it sends him spiraling.

[agentrouka-blog]

Season 8 “what if?”

Could Daenerys have openly acknowledged Jon as Rhaegar’s legal heir and let him relinquish his rights in the line of succession for the whole realm to see?

Jon: "My Northern subjects who bled for our Independence. As you know, I gave that independence away under duress in order to obtain assistance for our effort to save the entire Realm, and we are once again beholden to the Iron Throne in the South that we only submitted to under duress the first time, too. All hail Daenerys the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But I have news! I am actually not the bastard son of Eddard Stark but the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my name is Aegon Targaryen, and by rights this throne should actually be mine! But I have more news! I have freely chosen not to claim this inheritance. Because.... Dany just really wants to rule us all so much! No, this doesn't just make her an ordinary conqueror, it's all totally legit! I am just giving away this claim because I don't want it! But also we still remain submitted to the Iron Throne. No, the North isn't getting any kind of compensation out of this. Yes, as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, I still remain warden of the North for my aunt. Sansa doesn't mind. .... Would any of this sound better if I explained that I didn't actually have to submit the North to her rule and chose to do it anyway, shortly before starting an affair with my aunt? She will TOTALLY be a good queen though! All her councillors who cower in fear of her say so with complete honesty and faith! Like I do!"

Also Jon: "Dany, you know I have been really reluctant to continue our relationship after you revealed you were my aunt, which is making me very trustworthy in your eyes, so surely you'll just take my word for it that I am 100% commited to you, and you'll totally leave me alive and in reasonable dignity and power, even should I ever voice disagreement with any of your choices to burn people, thus making myself look like a more reasonable alternative ruler to your opponents. Right? I know you have no local support and entirely rely on your dragons and foreign armies to enforce your rule and your will and no one actually cares for a Targaryen restoration, so surely this won't be a problem anyway. After all, it's just conquest by fire and blood to establish your new dynasty for yourself and your future children. Oh, sorry, sensitive subject I know. You don't like talking about legals heirs because of the infertility thing. Well, since I totally said I don't want the throne, no one will be looking for me and my own future children to replace you sooner or later, haha. Here's a to a bright future and a stable reign!"

[blluespirit]

Episode 6 thoughts babey,,,,

Here are my thoughts on: episodes 1-3; episode 4 and episode 5!

Things I like:

Okay I see we’re starting off with emotional devastation write off the bat with a Zuko flashback. Dallas does a good job at portraying now-Zuko and before-Zuko. HES JUST TRYING HIS BEST HE JUST WANTS TO MAKE HIS FATHER PROUD OF HIM!! HE WANTS TO HELP OTHERS AND HES PUNISHED FOR IT!! 😭😭😭

Finally!!!! we are getting more Zuko and Zhao conflict. We needed to see more of Zhao as a villain

June flirting with Iroh is so funny and far better than in the og

anyone: this place is impenetrable. zuko: say no more 😉

oh my god they did the zuko sequence of him taking out those guards to get to Aang so well!

Love the whole zuko rescuing Aang from Zhao it was perfect ✨

Zuko meticulously finding out all the information he can about the past Avatars to the point where Aang says no one else knows this stuff is so important to me

Also I like how Aang and Zuko got a longer conversation than in canon. they had a nice moment there 😌 that will get Zuko Contemplating Treason for sure. Well actually - more treason than what he’s already done (thinking about you: siege of the north)

the 41st division being Zuko’s crew is an interesting choice!!! I’m actually sobbing about it!! To me it’s both a bad and good choice. I’ve explained my thoughts below and in the next section

Despite what I say below, Zuko’s crew bowing to him after they find out Zuko’s actions saved their life is such a good scene. Zuko seeing the product of having compassion and empathy for others as something positive, rather than something he’s ultimately punished for.

things I don’t like:

Zhao’s speech kinda sucked tbh. in the og it was much more grand and terrifying. He's on ground level with the soldiers instead of on that grand balcony. In the original he goats how fire is the superior element, how they're going to raze the Earth Kingdom to the ground. But in this one, it's just not the same level of brainwash-y propaganda-ryness that would have made SO much more chilling

idk but i preferred when Koh was a bit more mysterious and we didn’t really know much about him except that he stole the face of Avatar Kuruk’s lover and like some more vague info that leaves you intrigued about the mystery. like who the fuck is the mother of faces (i know she’s from the comics but still). And why did Roku steal it from him at all? idk im confused

Idk why they made Zuko stand and fight Ozai????? Ozai burning his own child who refused to fight him was a part of the horror of it all. Zuko refused to fight his father and begged for his forgiveness but Ozai still burned him anyway. I guess it still gets the cruelty across and that Zuko’s own compassion is used against him and Ozai is an irredeemable monster, but i still think it’s Not A Good Change.

Like I said above, Zuko’s crew being the 41st is not a bad thing! But I do just want to say that in the original, the attack goes ahead, and presumably, those soldiers die. It’s horrible. Zuko’s sacrifice is in vein and it was always going to be in vain because the Fire Nation as its stands would not allow it. Ozai would not allow it. I think that, like I said, it’s not necessarily a bad choice, but I think it does take away some of the horror of Zuko’s story (same as it does with making Zuko fight back in my opinion). HOWEVER, I do think it’s not all bad. I loved the scene where the crew bows to him - like I said above 🥹

Aang just giving Koh the statue and then all the people are just freed and he doesn’t even say anything wtf 💀

also i was so excited for roku’s appearance but i just thought it was disappointing. stop info dumping!!!! leave something up for interpretation I am BEGGING. “And she is Koh’s mother. Koh longs for the same thing we all do. Family.” maybe i’m being a bitch about this but it just annoys me!!!!!!! stop spelling things out! Koh is so much better when he’s mysterious and unknowable!! why is Roku's whole presence to be here and info-dump about Koh instead of all the meaningful and wise interactions he has with Aang in the original. simply ✨no✨

As you’ve seen from my previous entries, I try to have more positives than negatives but there were some things in this episode that irritated me and that i couldn’t ignore lol hopefully it gets better.... 😅

There were still parts i loved! Aang and Zuko's interactions were great and teh whole sequence of them escaping was wonderful. I likes Zuko interacting with the crew and Iroh trying to care for Zuko but not really knowing how to reach out to him.

On to the next one!

[benevolentcalamity]

Dragon (Maythyr) x Female!Reader [3/3]

Now, I do believe Maythyr may be the husbando I wanted him to be, which makes me very happy. So as a special treat, you guys get the special third part! Now you can fuck him. :D

My special, loving regards to my dear friend Chelsea, without whom this would’ve never been remembered.

Enjoy!

Warning: This fic contains smut, pregnancy, and references to parental alcoholism.

CURTAINS!

You remember it well, even moreso than the day you discovered him for the first time.

Maythyr had earned your father's respect and your mother's gentlehearted approval. Not just because of him clearly being a seasoned warrior, but his accolades through his time - some of them more ambiguous due to him being a dragon in disguise - as well as the good words of praise in the letters he brought. Those were surely just to stroke his own ego, but he had the knowledge of human societal customs to know he could walk the walk and provide proof of his footprints.

Now to be honest, your father is indeed the 'what you do to my daughter, I do to you' kind, which may also be why you would have men lined out the door for you if not for him. Then again that's likely so that anybody that can get past him is worthy of even breathing your air... Which is a fair improvement when he's been drinking.

After a hearty dinner with them, during which Maythyr spoke - rather happily in fact - of his recent campaign in the north. Luckily for him his armor implied what his words did not: he was from the northern kingdoms, defending them. He would go on to whisper to you that he was actually just usurping them, but he didn't have it in him to displease your parents in such a way or give them cause for concern.

Once all was said and done, he knelt before your parents - something he himself said he'd only ever do for you - and asked for your hand in marriage. After a bombarding of questions that would make the most patient of sages enraged, he received their blessing.

At first, you have admitted it confused you. By all rights, Maythyr didn't have to - he could've just swooped you up and gotten you the easy way. But in his words, the easy way was doing it 'properly' to minimize the amount of people that would be upset with him down to the boys that would chase your hips if you weren't careful. And besides, to just do that would undo all the hard work he put in to ‘appear’... well, human.

So to the village itself, he is a living legend. To you, he’s the Dragon God of War.

Now that the recap is just about over, the little extra pages that don’t mean anything will be flipped to this current moment.

The ceremony was planned admittedly quickly, as Maythyr agreed to marry you in the village. Not to say he had plans of taking you elsewhere far away - he did, you know, he just doesn’t mention it - but it wouldn’t be fair for him to have received their blessing and not witnessed the two of you together. It’s the sort of thing that kills a dragon inside, but according to him it stopped being the sort of thing that bothers him centuries ago. Actually he said decades, but you humor him.

So you’re standing here, in a white gown, as your mother gives the final touches on your hair.

“And not to worry, sweetheart,” She softly assures, tucking some stray strands back into your ‘do. “I’ll make sure [dad’s name] doesn’t drink too much.”

“I am concerned, mom, that he’s been drinking too much lately,” You frown. “It’s one thing to have some ale to take the anxious edge off, but to drink almost a full pint every couple days...”

“Believe me, it worries me as well.” She sweetly kisses your cheek. “But not to worry, Malcolm-” the village elder- “and the others will be watching him carefully.”

It is true. Your dad’s a very cheery drunk, it’s true, but he’s long forgotten what it’s like to be clearheaded and sober. When last you asked when he’d been sober, he simply pulled you into a hug and said you had beautiful eyes. Either he had no idea what you asked him, or he did know and just decided not to burden you with the truth. Whatever it is, it’ll eventually tear this family apart.

But for now, you’ll be assured everyone will make sure he’s not as drunk. Though you are brought back from those concerns when she softly nudges your arm.

“You just concentrate on Maythyr. Today is the day for both of you - nothing else matters, alright?” She finishes straightening everything out. “I’m so proud right now... My baby’s found someone!” Now it’s your turn to prevent the waterworks. “No, no... Sorry, I lost myself for a moment. Are you ready?”

You smile.

“Let’s do this.”

___

Now, considering this is a mountain village, it would be forgiven - expected, even - to not have a simple chapel. However, you lot are lucky, considering a few clergymen became a congregation, and finally with the help of donations one was erected. A huge one was unwanted, unnecessary, and so it’s a quaint building with the stained glass and angelic statues to signify the love you all poured into it. The presence of God is strong there.

Once you’re at the doors, that’s when dad hurries over. You sigh in admitted relief upon seeing his skin crystal clear and not a stagger in his step.

“Thanks, dad,” You say softly as he loops your hand into his arm, to which he gives a squeeze.

“I’m not missing a day like this,” He replies, kissing the side of your head - and undoing some of your mom’s handiwork. “Oops.”

“He won’t notice some stray hairs,” You chuckle. “... Alright, let’s do this.”

As if on cue, the doors open with a resounding, somewhat elegant ‘creak’. Rows of people dressed to the nines stand up, making a perfect aisle. Swallowing, you walk in perfect tandem with your father, nodding at some of the happy faces so that your frayed nerves will begin to calm down.

Once you look up again, there’s a breathtaking sight.

Maythyr’s abandoned his armor. Instead some deep black and white flowing robes teasing his chest a bit - you would swoon if he wasn’t wearing pants - blow in the faint breezes. His hair pouring down his back as the mountain streams, he looks right out of a fantasy novel from once upon a time. Sharply lined sapphire eyes crinkle in unfiltered happiness at the sight of you.

Wordlessly dad kisses your cheek, passing your hand to Maythyr’s awaiting one, and you stand opposite your dragon. With his touch, cradling your hands with utter delicacy, your troubles and anxieties melt to the wind, and for a moment you don’t even register anymore the music being played at the far side.

“I bid you all welcome,” The pastor greets. “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate one of life’s greatest moments, which shall unite [Name] [Last Name] and Knight Maythyr-” Oh, that’s right, Maythyr neglected a last name- “in matrimony.”

Blinking, you note some figures outside each window, and lean in, which Maythyr reciprocates as the pastor continues. “Maythyr, do you know them?” You whisper.

He nods, keeping his voice down. “They are my fellows.” A wink; they’re dragons too. “I gathered them during my campaign, and about commanded them to bear witness and protect us.”

“Us, you mean... well, myself,” You chortle, and it only gets worse when he chuckles in affirmation. “You do think of everything.”

“To be expected from a god of war such as I, my dear.” He sneaks a tap to your nose. “I’m more marvelous than you think.”

“Try me,” You smile, earning a suggestive smirk before you straighten your backs in unison, continuing to listen to the sermon.

“-And who choose to spend the rest of their lives together.” The pastor looks between you two with a playful scolding look. “This ceremony does not birth a new relationship between the pair of you, nor are old ties forgotten and cast into nothingness. Rather, it is the binding of your two hearts, two souls, that your love may become whole, overcoming every trial and obstacle life shall bring, and join you as one in the eyes of the gods.”

“Alvis!” A hushed voice from the dark corners by the door perks up your ears. “You idiot! That’s your cue!”

Chortling, you watch as a scarlet haired man, clearly a bit boggled, elegantly steps through the aisle, a pillow in his hands. For a moment he gives Maythyr an annoyed glance completely ignored, long ears twitching as he hands the pillow to the pastor, whom unfolds the fabric atop it. Once his work is done he retreats behind Maythyr, folding his hands before his stomach.

... Ah?

Maythyr taps your one hand in reply - a message that he will explain later - before having to break from you to receive one of the rings. It’s a fine iron, as opposed to the traditional gold. To you it means more, for reasons you’ll find words for soon, and to Maythyr it’s a symbolism of your silent, pure, and true acceptance of his being a dragon. It melts his prideful countenance, if for a moment, and clearly he’s having to restrain himself from kissing you right there.

Not yet.

“Maythyr, if you would put this ring on [Name]’s finger and repeat after me.” Maythyr follows the pastor’s instructions, slipping your ring on and clasping that hand in both of his. “I, Maythyr, do eternally swear.”

“I, Maythyr, do eternally swear.”

“That I shall take thee as my wife.”

“That I shall take thee as my wife.”

“To have and to hold.”

“To have and to hold.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“Through sickness and in health.” His adam’s apple bounces with a restrained chortle of irony, which you respond to with narrowing your eyes playfully.

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“T’il death do us part.”

“T’il death do us part.”

You hear mom choking up beside you in the front, but then you’re taken from the sound by the pastor handing you the other ring.

“[Name], if you would put this ring on Maythyr’s finger and repeat after me.”

You nod, slipping the ring onto his finger, clasping his hand in both of yours this time. Man, you feel so small.

“I, [Name], do eternally swear.”

“I, [Name], do eternally swear.”

“That I shall take thee as my husband.”

“That I shall take thee as my husband.”

“To have and to hold.”

“To have and to hold.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“T’il death do us part.”

“T’il death do us part.”

Turning pink, you allow Maythyr to return your hands into comfortably resting inside his, and the sun slowly lights up the room more and more.

“If anyone has just cause for these two not to be joined in union...” The pastor’s voice turns a bit low. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Nervously, you turn your eyes to the congregation. Your blood runs cold, if for a moment, when dad’s hands twitch ever so slightly. As if noticing your worries, he meets your eyes, giving you a reassuring smile. Simpering, you return your attention to Maythyr, and he gives your hands a soft squeeze.

“Well, then.” The pastor’s voice is jovial once more. “By the power vested in me, I declare [Name] and Maythyr husband and wife.” He then smiles. “Kiss your bride, Maythyr.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Maythyr reaches up to cup your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. There’s cheering, there’s clapping, even some whistling going on, but you don’t care. Deep inside, there’s a stirring feeling, perhaps even a liberating one; like your soul is being warmed by a gentle fire. There’s also a sensation like something kind of poking you, but you choose to ignore that one.

At last... at long last, you’ll be together now.

__

Now this is you we’re talking about - there is no way you, a beloved part of this village, aren’t getting an absolute party  for your wedding. Matter of fact, Maythyr too was all about it, and so before you knew it there were lanterns, song, and dance lighting up the fading dusk. Not to mention the delicious food lining every corner of the venue - even the not-that-hidden dragons Maythyr invited are digging it.

One leg a bit sore from your one dance with your dad, you watch from the punch line - Grizelda’s secret - as he downs his first drink, in the general view of the village elders as promised. Well, at least he’ll be supervised...

A pair of arms loops around your waist, and you smile, reassured, leaning back into Maythyr’s chest.

“I’ll say one thing,” He murmurs, sending chills down your back. “You humans very much know how to throw a party.”

You chortle. “What, dragons don’t dance?” You tease, nudging his arm.

“Our only ‘dance’ is in combat, love.” He gives your ear a nip. “... Elsewhere, too.” The connotations aren’t unnoticed.

Biting your lip, you tilt your head back to meet his eyes properly, him softly toying with the stray strands of hair. “Maythyr.”

“Mmm?” He nuzzles the side of your head.

“My parents must be allowed to see us,” You mention. “I know you don’t like visitors, but... I don’t want to lose my family.”

“... Very well.” He’s a bit begrudging - the generic nature of a dragon being possessive - but his voice doesn’t express it that well. You can detect it all the same. “You are my treasure, but more importantly you are my mate; consider your wishes mine as well.”

You flutter inside, smiling a bit. “And our children, too... How many kids do you want, Maythyr?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, by the gods-!” You playfully smack his forearm, to which he pulls your cheek, the two of you erupting in fits of laughter as his other hand goes and tickles your belly for a moment.

“Come, now.” He starts leading you back towards the party. “If you’re not at all spent, I think it’s time they learned how to dip.”

“Maythyyyyyr!”

The both of you look, and your dad is stumbling over, tanker in hand, giving your new husband some kind of eye. A stinkeye? Can he even give those when he’s almost drunk as all fuck?

At the flick of a wrist, Maythyr readopts the cordial nature he greeted him with when he came back to get you when he promised to. With a smile, the natural growl in his voice is turned way low, and he again appears human even to you for a moment.

“Hello, father,” He greets. “Ah, it is okay to call you father, right?”

“Yes...” Dad drawls. “But you better understand one thing.”

Maythyr crosses his arms, tilting his head feigning an innocent stare.

“What you do to my daughter...” As he swigs his tanker, you notice people keeping their eyes on him. “I do to you.”

Worriedly, you look towards Maythyr, and-

Oh.

Flip-flopping from his innocent expression, his lips stretch into a smile too big for his face, narrowing his eyes and raising his eyebrows before wiggling them. A provocative, suggestive expression, indeed. One that double dog dares your dad to live up to it. An amused snort-hum leaves him, almost leaking fire, but dad’s already so drunk he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Realizing how Maythyr had silently twisted his words, a cold sweat perspires from dad’s face, and he starts stammering in an attempt to backtrack so his new son will stop looking at him like that. He’s drowned out, promptly, by the howling laughter of whoever could understand what was going on. Leaving the kids attending in the dark, the lot of you seemingly reignite the party, and the dancing continues as old Malcom leads dad away to sober up or throw up - one of the two.

“And just so you know,” You remember Maythyr whispering once it’s time for the lanterns to go out, having slipped you into the shadows to steal a kiss. “There’s only one thing dragons are better at than fighting. Do you dare to hazard a guess?”

You grinned.

“You’re on.

___

“A-aah!”

The palace in Arktikania, where the snow masks rotting kills and the howling wind carries song but mutes screams and moans. Dragons under Maythyr’s command as their god of war fly to and fro, fresh from reconnaissance or campaigning. But none dare disturb the palace’s uppermost rooms apart from the throne at the apex.

Why? Well...

“Hnnhhh...” Maythyr purrs, massaging the soft skin of your breasts. “Such a good girl...” Pulling one into his mouth, he sucks hungrily, watching your reactions as you struggle to keep balanced.

The proper answer to Maythyr’s question is on full display. After some non-permanent goodbyes, he took you up here to give you a proper wedding consummation. At least, that was kind of his words - his actual words were a whoooole lot hungrier. Not that they bear repeating, mostly because it’s the sort of thing he rather stay with you.

Both hands tangling into his hair, you arch your back a bit, feeling his other hand slipping down between your legs. Your naked body is protected from the climate by the insulating fabrics that curtain the bed. It’s by no means a small one, considering he also likes sleeping as his dragon self still, so there’s plenty of room for these little games. And being a creature known for being able to rage on for years if they must, well... you’ll be feeling this one when it ends. If you even want it to.

“Maythyr... Ah...” You moan, your head lolling back a bit as you feel his fingers slip into your folds. Wasting no time ‘hooking’ you in with one, his hips grind up into your legs, his lips curling into a smile whilst sucking.

All too soon he breaks from you, lifting you up and plopping you onto your back with ease. Just as you think to complain he lifts your hips, looping his arms around your thighs and pressing them against his ears. An uneven gasp rips from you as his forked tongue laps up your wetness.

“Gh-ah! M-Maythyr-!” You squeak, hands flying back towards his hair.

Like an answer to your prayers, he fully presses his face into your arousal, tongue sliding inside you with ease. Arching into him, your grip on his hair tightens, only seeming to egg him on. As though wanting to see how far you can go his pace quickens, and outside you he nips and sucks where he is able. Every nook and vein is licked and sucked with ravenous greed, and only when he opens his eyes once more and meets your pleading stare do you realize he intends to do more than just absolutely nail you.

An almost devilish grin cements this, before he plasters himself to you once more, going full-force inside you. The tips of his tongue about wrap around your sweet spot, wriggling it until a pulsing inferno bubbles in your hips. Your vision is flooding with the very stars, and your breath is wrenched from you as your heat begins to clamp down and pulsate around him.

“A... Aahh... Ah...!” You let out, before finally your orgasm takes hold. “Aaaaahhh!”

His tongue pulls out, but like a drunkard he’s gulping down all the ambrosia seeping from your trembling pussy, savoring it like a fine wine. Once you’ve given all you’re able right now, he lowers your hips once more,  moving upwards so he can kiss you. Not caring that you can taste yourself on him, you allow your tongue to be wrapped up and played with, his hands holding your head and hips grinding into yours.

Eventually, he pulls away, moving down and nipping at your neck. “I just can’t get enough of you, treasure...” He purrs, both hands caressing your breasts. “Mmm... You’re so warm, my dear... And wet.” He chuckles. “You’re so eager to be this dragon’s prize, aren’t you?”

Sitting up, he spreads your legs widely, nipping at your ankles. Unrestrained, he stares hungrily at the visible clenching.

Finally, you can bear it no longer. “P-please...” You whimper.

He snickers, nibbling at your shins. “Please what, lovely?”

Unsure if you can even hang onto your dignity at this rate, you plead, “Please, Maythyr-! Fuck me!”

His smile doesn’t falter, instead dripping with a beast no longer to be restrained. “Good girl.” Leaning forward, he pushes your knees up to your chest, hovering  so his cock teases your heat. Biting his lip in concentration - by the gods if that isn’t the sexiest thing he does - he loops his arms through your shoulders, parting his thighs to better split your legs.

Wanting to savor this, he nips your lips as he pushes inside, rumbling deep in his chest as his cock effortlessly melds into you. Moving one hand to your belly he rubs the resulting bulge with a chuckle. Once the discomfort fades, you nod, and almost abandoning restraint he’s pumping in and out of you, as if intending to mold you into his cock’s shape.

“Ahhh... Ahh... Aaaah!” You moan, arching up into him as your hands claw at his back. “M-Maythyr-! Aaah!” Stars only begin glittering your vision when he pulls your legs up into his arms, pushing your hips up so he can get even deeper. With each thrust pounding every good spot you’re left mewling, crying out, thankful for every protection around you two. He won’t care about you screaming his name into the arctic winds - matter of fact he’d aim for it. But right now, he’d rather just have this.

“Nngh...” He grunts. “Heh, if I knew you were this good, I’d have figured out a human form the first time you came to me in the mountain.”

You can’t even answer him; any attempt at words just comes out as a squeal or a moan - which he is definitely doing on purpose. After all, he did promise you the night of your life... And it’s hardly past midnight-!

“A-ah?” Something feels different.

Opening your eyes, you watch as Maythyr... shifts, kind of. His black scales become more prominent on his neck and cheeks, eyes more serpentine like his full dragon form. Inside you his cock grows larger, even seeming to change its shape a bit, and you squeak, walls clamping down and pulsing around it. The base of his shapeshifted cock swells, like a bubble, squeezing against your pussy hungrily.

Swallowing, you dare look down, and-

“Oh, by the gods...” You swoon. “M-Maythyr, you’re knotted-!”

“I know...” He groans, pushing it against you impatiently. “... Can you take it all?”

Not even hesitating, you have your legs in a higher position, ready and willing without taking anything else into account. You don’t care how sore you get or how your body has to contort; you need all of his cock. Right now.

“Give  it to me...” You quiver as he begins thrusting again. “Please...”

He leans down, licking up your neck to your jaw. “Very well... My sweet, good girl, I’ll pump you so full you won’t be able to walk for until our babies are born.”

And without a shadow of hesitation he does just that. Every thrust of his cock, his knot squeezes ever so much more, wanting to be inside you. The way your nails scratch the hardened skin of his back eggs him on, perspiration shining his face as his cock nails you until you’re seeing stars. Only occasionally does he swallow your screams with his tongue, which you respond to by desperately clutching his head.

Fuuuck... You moan as your own tongue is subdued and wrapped up, feeling the bubbling heat in your hips once again...

“I-I’m going to...” You breathe, and- “A-AAAAH!”

Almost unceremoniously, the knot pops right inside you, and that’s when Maythyr is at last at the apex. Much like he would as his fully shifted self, he throws his head back, roaring a mighty roar, and before you know it he’s cumming once; twice; a whopping six times with a driving thrust. Even then there’s still more coming out of him, the knot emptying shamelessly into your womb.

Arching, your orgasm has the combined fluids flooding down your skin and to the bed, hanging onto Maythyr as though you’ll die if you let go of him. When at last the tremors of orgasm cease, and the knot is emptied, the both of you collapse.

Falling down behind you, he wraps you up in his arms as his body is once again fully human. Nuzzling into your back, he’s too fatigued for a witty comment or even some risque implication of the morning’s activities. Instead, he’s silent for a moment, caressing your body delicately and embracing you, peppering your skin with kisses.

Nudging you so you open your eyes, he hovers over you a bit, both hands interlocked under your back. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Barely mustering the strength, you nod, reaching up with trembling fingers and caressing the apple of his mocha cheek. Snorting with palpable adoration, he catches your hand in his, kissing the heel and nipping a bit at your wrist.

That’s when you see the same expression he gave on your wedding. A gentle, endearing smile meant only for you, the only proof of his softness.

“... I love you,” He murmurs, lowering down to kiss your lips. “Ah... By the gods, I love you...”

The blizzard outside is silent once more.

___

Beyond thankful that you still are able to, you’re whiling away the quiet hours with your lyre. You’ve gotten so big you can hardly move, what with the babies seeming to multiply in your belly. Nevermind a bowl or a plate, an entire banquet could fit on it, which is a joke you’ve made many a time every meal you share with your husband.

Speaking of him, he yawns, readjusting so his wing continues to shield you as his tail locks it in place. Chortling, you crane your neck to look at him properly, his one eye peeking open once he senses your gaze.

“How are you feeling, love?” He asks, to which you smile.

“I feel like I could pop any day now, honestly, but even I know it won’t be for a time... As much as it looks like it.” Your fingers don’t even miss a string; you suppose you’re still as adept as ever.

“And that is why I’ve sent Alvis to the west in my stead.” The redhead from the wedding; one of his most trusted war generals. “I do not care the severity of matters overseas - t’is my duty as a husband and a father to be here.”

Your smile only grows. “You’ll be a good one, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I will be. And with a treasure like you as my wife and their mother... Hah, they will be this world’s greatest beings.” And there is that classic Maythyr confidence, along with a puff of his soft chest.

“Speaking of, what names should we give them?” You tilt your head. “You haven’t forgotten about that, right?”

“Of course not. Hmmm... Why not a girl’s name, first? Make that a few. I think... Valka, Lymeria, Rosarion... Yorshka?”

“Those are lovely, Maythyr. And for a boy... Hmmm... Tyr, Egil, Ragarruss?”

“Wonderful.” He moves his head so he can nuzzle you, only slightly obstructing your music. “We’ll revisit the storybooks you love so much when next you feel like walking, we’ll have an entire list then. For now, is there anything you need, or you would like? Are you hungry?”

Simpering, you lean back into his belly, the warmth helping you to relax your back. “Hmmm... I have missed mama’s chocolate cake these days.”

His head snaps back with a laugh, and along a warm snort he nuzzles you once more. “Very well.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Forgive Me

Media IRL X High Fantasy

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Dark + Sexy

Concept 'You Will Give Me Y/n'

Warnings Violence / mentions of rape / sexy (Not explicit smut but sexy times are mentioned)

I woke as usual to the sound of the birds tweeting their morning song, the sound of rain battering all that lay upon this earth. I sat up and pushed my warm cotton covers and furs off me climbing out of bed and adjusting my cotton nightie as I did. I stepped across the dark stone over to the sculpted steps of the tub I filled it with water from the large tap and climbed in making sure to scrub up and down my body all while listening to the rain battering the windows of the castle. Once I was done with my bath I climbed out to be met but the handmaid's they greeted me with quiet smiles and helped me dress for the day into my new impressive emerald dress it was comfortable and beautiful having been made only days before for the occasion and they sat me at my vanity mirror brushing my hair and doing what little makeup was needed. They pulled my hair back into a long four-strand braid down my back the end wrapped with a green thislewick flower. They took my usual half-moon tiara of brushed gold ivy shapes and green amazonite, malachite and bloodstone. Once done I headed out of my room and thought the dark castle halls and corridors often seeing the harsh rain attack the windows mercilessly, the garden taking the worst of it. 

I arrived in the throne room causing silence as I often did the court split down the throne room floor leading a perfect path for me to the throne where my father sat sword in hand. 

I smiled and made my way to the throne's steps bowing low as I arrived there.

He offered his hand so I happily took it and he gave my hand a little kiss 

"It's time like this. I am reminded just how blessed you are. Your mother gave you every morsel of her beauty. Come stand with me while we wait for your sister"

I nodded and moved to stand beside the throne as we waited soon enough my sister arrived in her own new dress of deep blue she gave me an evil look but I did my best to ignore her as father delt with the business at hand I listened where I needed too but mostly watching at the rain died down out the windows. I couldn't help noticing my sister often glaring at me, well my half-sister we shared a father but different mothers, her mother a royal from the south my father's first marriage for the politics of the kingdom, my mother his second wife a princess of the north that he married for love. We had both lost our mothers but she seemed to never lose her distaste for me, as we had aged it had only grown worse. I had always done my best to be civil with her which only seemed to enrage her more that I refused to react. 

Soon after all the business had been attended to a guard came through

"He has arrived your grace" 

"AHH perfect. Come along girls let's go and greet our guest" he says getting up so I tried to follow behind him with my sister but she stood on my foot forcing me to hang back and walk behind her I didn't react there sad no point so I followed them both out of the Thorne room down the corridor out the entryway and onto the grey stone steps of the castle. The cobblestone street stretching out from the castle steps lined by the small brick houses had all been rebuilt hundred times so all had the sharp strangeness of rescued bricks the streets were lined with the city folk all being held back by the guards but all of them eager to get a look. As the army arrived. The army and king arriving today was the heir to the king of the west, we had long been at war with the western kingdom as it was the only one not yet unified under my father the king we had long been at war with them even if there had been times of peace however brief. But soon there would be peace. It had been agreed long before this moment that my sister would marry the heir to the Throne, she had been of age for four years now so long I had become of age since. But there were dealings being struck. At last, he was to come to our castle, spend a year with her and marry her once the year was up, a common custom in our kingdoms.

His army marched in on high alert and making a show of it making sure flags were flown high, drums beat loud and the army looked as strong and intimidating as possible. They filled through the streets in an organized fashion making sure not to leave a stone un marched on. Until I saw him.

He sat atop his jet-black horse, riding amongst but above his men. No guards around him to protect him.

It had been years since I saw him, the last insane him was his visit years ago with his father when the deal was first stuck I was merely a girl of nine then even if then he was old enough to marry. But he had changed so much aged like fine tamlend wine. He sat on his horse in tall riding boots, black pants that hugged him tightly, a leather belt and waist harness with a large leather strap around his waist buckled tightly and straps that went up and over his shoulders and across his upper back each dyed red, with his black slightly billowy shirt that only reached his elbows and was untied at his chest revealing a light chain of gold, it all very much reflected the colours of his kingdom's flag. Sword at his side dagger on his thigh and a cape of red hung from his shoulders and down to his horse. He controlled the horse one-handed and confidently held his head high without even looking to the ground below once his attention was utterly on the castle before him. He stopped his horse at the steps and climbed down leaving his Cape on the horse's saddle before sauntering his way up the steps to my father. 

"Your grace" he bowed with a slight cocky smile 

"Prince Thomas, I presume? Grown since I last saw you"

"Haven't we all" 

"True. Your men are impressive"

"They are trained to be. No point having an army of there not impressive" he says "My father begs your forgiveness he isn't well though it best to remain" 

"Understandable it's a long trip at his age. Well welcome to Helios. I'll make sure the staff begin unpacking your things into your suite"

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to return."

"If I may present my eldest daughter Ilisya" he smiled taking my sister by the hand to introduce them to one another

"Your grace" she bowed 

"It's a pleasure my dear. I'm sure we'll have ample time to spend together once in settled" he told her keeping a fair space between them 

My father let go of my sister's hand as she was very much silently cooing over our guest and my father took my hand gently "And if I may present my youngest daughter Y/n" he smiled bringing me forward I smiled gently and bowed slightly

"Your grace"

"Y/n?" He chuckled

"Yes your grace"

"Hu. You uhh you have certainly changed since last I was here"

"As have you, your grace"

"Forgive me, my lady" 

"It's quite alright"

"I'm sure we'll be able to catch up while I'm here" he smiled

"That sounds lovely" I smiled 

My father ushered him inside and my sister quickly followed so I made my way behind them the men went to discuss business as always and my sister and I went our own way but the moment we were inside the castle and out of sight she grabbed my hair hard 

"Oww!" 

"What was that?"

"What?"

"What was that? Smiling at him"

"Would you rather I be rude?"

"He's my betrothal. Not yours. You don't even have a betrothal because your father knows you're worthless. Eyes off my husband" she demanded before she marched off to the drawing room with her ladies. I simply fixed myself up and went to the library as usual spending my day buried in the mountains of books. 

I had mostly stayed in the library I didn't want to get in my sister's way, so I sat in the large chair by the fire book in hand when I heard the door I looked and saw it was Thomas and he was alone.

"Oh excuse me I don't mean to disturb you, my lady"

"It's alright, the library is more than big enough for the both of us" 

"If it's alright with you"

"Of course." I smiled he went and chose himself a book coming and sitting in the chair across from me still close to the fire 

"You've grown. Since last, I was here"

"It was a long time ago"

"It was. You were just a little girl then, you’re a lady now" he says "Forgive me. Too forward I know"

"It's alright. You’re to be my brother In law, your family. You've changed too nothing like I remember you"

"Situations change. With my father getting weaker I've had to…pick up the slack as it were. It changes you to have power no matter how small"

"I can imagine it weighs heavily"

"Heavier than you can imagine" 

"Still it'll be nice for you to have some time away"

"Will it?" He sighed "I've been here a week and frankly I'm already bored of spending time with your sister"

"How so?" I giggled

"Oh my god, she doesn't shut up does she?"

"She has a habit of running her mouth longer than she should"

"I wouldn't mind so much if she had something to say. Yesterday I spend twenty-five minutes listening to her talk about fabric."

"It's what thrills her"

"Ummm"

"What do you think of her?"

"I've only known her a week. But… she seems very much like an heiress"

"How so?" 

"Like a princess who's always been an heir. Always had her life decided so never bothered to build a personality. She didn't need personality or relationships or intelligence. She was heir from birth and never bothered making anything else"

"I'd say that's true." I nodded "Weren't you born an heir?"

"It's different for boys, especially in our kingdom. Heir or not you still have to raise an army of your own. Still have to learn your way same as anyone else. Girls, you’re born into the world as heirs with one purpose to be married off and bear children some of you don't see beyond that."

"Guess I never cared much not an heir, it gives a quiet freedom"

"I can imagine so" he nods "You know she's already named our children?"

"Has she?"

"Yep. Petrov and Marcela" 

"Ohh" 

"I hate it too" he laughed making me break and giggle too

"She's prepared and waited her whole life for this"

"I hope she mellows a little before our wedding god knows I won't be able to put up with her if she doesn't" 

"Well if you need time away the library is always open"

"Thank you y/n." 

I sat on the small stone bench under the ivy-covered arch in the garden watching the rain fall on the flowers, trees and statues of the castle garden. Slightly humming a tune to myself.

I heard quick footsteps on the grass and soon enough saw Thomas, 

"My lady" he smiled using his coat to protect himself from the rain "may I?"

"Of course" I smiled

So he happily ducked under and sat with me "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question"

"I had intended to take your sister on a riding date."

"Sounds romantic"

"It might have been, she blew me off because of the rain" 

"Sorry about that, she doesn't like rain, or really riding,"

"I can tell. It's becoming increasingly difficult to find common ground with her. Like fighting for bed space with a hibernating bear" he explained making me giggle

"How so?"

"I keep trying desperately for a little bit of common space but she seems to refuse to move a single inch. Just last week she was talking about her sewing so I offered a date together where I helped her do some embroidery. No, she doesn't want me in the drawing room with her that's her time with her girls. I offered a date up to the tower to stargaze but no she wants to be in bed by nine, I offered a date down to the beach she said no it was too hot." 

"Sorry to hear that, did she at least suggest an alternative?"

"She said she likes modelling her dresses. I swear I have to look at another blue dress and hear about its beautiful double stitching again. They can shove This whole arrangement" he says "Forgive me. I shouldn't be bad-mouthing your sister"

"She pulls my hair when she knows we've been talking"

"She does?"

"Umm, my sister and I don't have much common ground either. I have been in your position I spent half my childhood trying to find common ground with her in the end I gave up."

"Understandable. She doesn't like you she often speaks of it"

"That's her choice at least she has an opinion"

"True" he chuckled "You didn't answer? Why are you out here?"

"I like the rain. I like the garden. I like seeing it all together"

"Me too" he smiled "It's a beautiful place, I see why you like it here." He says we talked about the garden for a good while about the trees and flowers and all the care that goes into the garden honestly we'd had a lot of chats like this at dinner and in the library we always found something to discuss "can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course, it'll be between us and the flowers"

He chuckled a moment before he slightly moved on the bench closer to me "Somedays, I wish I was marrying you." 

"You - you do?"

"I Do. Very much. Even last night I dreamt of it." He says "that I was marrying you, and we'd be spending our days snuggled in the library by the fire with a good book between us, going for walks in the gardens and knitting together in the parlour"

"I uhh I didn't know you saw me there"

"I always see you there," he says his voice slightly hushed “I dream of it often these cold nights”

“Should be careful of your grace, you dream of something more than once it's destined to become true.”

“I wish it was” he says "it goes against everything I swore, all the duties I promised I'd adhere to, against my father's wishes. But it seems I'm falling in love with you, and that is something I simply cannot deny" 

"May I tell you a secret?"

"Of course my lady"

"I fear I may feel the same," I told him "Perhaps if things were different, we'd be a very perfect and happy couple"

"I'm sure we would be" he smiled

"I should get back, besides my sister will do far more than pull my hair she knew we were alone together" 

"Of course, enjoy the rest of your day y/n"

"You too Thomas" I smiled getting up from the bench and heading out into the rainy garden but I barely got beyond the roses before he grabbed my arm forcing me to face him in the rain thunder cracking across the grey sky 

"Forgive me my lady" he says leaning down and kissing me so softly yet so passionately I immediately melted into the kiss which he took as his sign to continue pulling me close cradling me in his arms as we gently kissed, I was the first to pull away even if I merely pulled back from his lips and little else 

"You have no need to apologize," I whispered against his cracked lips "I have to go." I quickly reminded taking a step back

"Of course, don't let me keep you' he nods turning slightly red "Perhaps I'll see you later?"

"Perhaps" I smiled, giving him a quick kiss before I rushed inside to my room. 

I laid so very comfortably on the long sofa in the library, I laid on my stomach but slightly sat up, Thomas below me leant up with his back completely against the high side of the sofa his arms around me so softly, the fire burning sweetly all that lit the library at all, his hands playing with my hair as our slow sensual kisses continued often forcing small pleasurable groans from his lips the only sound I could hear other then the fires crackling was our sweet kisses. 

I pulled back slightly breathless as our kiss had gotten a little more intense "We shouldn't" I reminded him 

"I know. I know" he cooes running his finger down my nose then stroking across my lips "I should go back. But I can't bare to leave you angel" he Cooes giving me soft little kisses, soon enough our little kisses turned back into our slow and seductive kisses from moments ago 

"You need to go or you'll get in trouble"

"I'm already in trouble." He chuckled trying to kiss me again

"What for?" 

"I dared question the princess's dress choice."

"Ooohh why?"

"Because I had planned for us to go riding through the olonox caves and she picked a ball gown"

"That doesn't seem practical."

"That's what I said. But she got mad and we didn't go at all." He sighed "It's fine though at least I get the afternoon snuggled on here with you" 

"I suppose but you should go and apologize you know what she gets like"

"No, she can apologize to me for once. Till then I'm sure I know something to do to occupy my time" he smirked "hummm?" He suggested rubbing his nose on my own 

"Just don't blame me if she's still grumpy with you tomorrow" I smiled giving him a soft kiss

“I won’t” He smirked pulling me closer 

I stood in my room utterly red and flustered as he held me in his arms, we had been meeting in the library and the gardens regularly finding privet spots were we couild cuddle and kiss but tonight was different, a harsh storm attacked the castle walls and most had hunkered down and locked themselves away with meer candlelight to keep them sane, At a time like this it would be assumed betrothals would snuggle together to keep one another safe but Thomas had gone to my sister and found her with her sewing girls in no need or want of his protection, so he had come to my room "we shouldn't. You shouldn't even be in here" I told him

'I know, tell me to go. Ask me to go angel"

"Why?"

"Because you know I'll stay of you don't" 

"We can't, you're even forbidden from… being in my sister's room and you're engaged to her. Let alone my room"

"I know. We could get in so much trouble if someone found us… here together" he smirked "Tell me go to. Before I beg you to let me stay," he says stroking across my dress 

"We shouldn't, things have gone far enough" 

"I'm not sure I can stop myself" 

"I'm not sure I can ask you to stop"

"Say the word my angel. And you can have me" he whispered against my lips 

"I- i-" I stuttered "Yes" I whispered

The moment I did he pulled me tightly to his body gripping my body through my thin dress and kissing me intensely I tightened my grip on him too before he picked me up and carried me to my bed dropping me there and crawling between my legs to continue our kisses till he pulled back gasping fast 

"Ummm I want to. So badly angel. But we really can't."

"You want to?" I blushed 

"Uummmm so badly angel. I want to. I want you. But there's far more we can do that won't risk my lady's reputation at court" he smirked, that was the first night we spent together utterly in each others arms like never before, and it was far from our last, we did everything we could often what was called the betrothal snuggle as it was often done by those engaged but not yet married, everything but the main event as to keep pure for the wedding night. This became our regular days we’d spend the days together cuddled and snuggled in hidden spots in the castle then under cover of darkness he’d sneak through the castle halls to my chamber and we’d be in each other's arms all night, often waking up together and having to watch him get dressed and scamper off to meet with my sister for breakfast. 

I sat in the library my book in my hand my head against thomas' chest as he read his own book his arm around me, I smiled a little and nuzzled a little closer to keep warm he smiled moving the blanket closer over us and kissing my head "shouldn't you be with my sister?"

"Hummm I am"

"How so?"

"She thinks we're playing hide and seek in the castle. She thinks I'm really good at it"

"What if she finds us?"

"She never checks here." He chuckled "We'll be fine angel"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door he sighed and give me a kiss before we separated putting a fair bit of space between us him moving to a completely different part of the library by the window

"Come in" I called and the door opened to a messenger

"What is it?" Thomas asked 

"Your father sir." He says handing over the letter and scampering away I quickly put my book down and got up going over but giving him space as he read 

"My father is dead."

"Ohh Thomas I'm so sorry" 

"It's okay. Been expecting this for a while" he says 

"I suppose that… makes you king now"

"I suppose it does." He smiled "and I can think of my first order of business as King” he says setting the letter on the table, he locked the library door and quickly took me in his arms I assumed for one of our usual snuggles or perhaps even our bed chamber sessions but no he laid me on the rug in front of the fire and slowly but passionately we kissed, and our kisses turned to touching, our touching far more intense until nothing and no secrets remained between us, as we made love on the library rug “Forgive me my angel”

“Its alright Thomas. Not quite the reaction to grief one expects” I giggled making him laugh too 

“No, But If I am king now I want the first thing I do to be to make love to the women I love. Regardless of the betrothals arranged this moment, I want it with you” he cooes “I am very happy my first act as king was to…take your innocence, and give you my own” 

“You could hadly tell” I smiled giving him a kiss

“Well somebodies let me have lots of practice” he smirked 

I did my best to hide my blush I stood in my usual green dress besides my father and his throne, My sister on his other side with Thomas beside her as we all dealt with court business I couldn’t help my glances at him and he too couldn’t help his own at me which only made it harder not to blush given my sister whenever possible mentioning her upcoming wedding, which only amused us both given I had spent last night and most of this morning bouncing on his cock in my bed chamber. 

When two men came to the court to give their grievances,

“My king” One bowed

“State your business”

“It’s about Mondlay bridge your grace.”

Immediately I held my breath 

“Mondaly bridge? That’s under the western land” Thomas remind my father given Thomas’ father was gone he was now king of the west meaning Mondlay Bridge was his land, not my father's but this had been a point of contention for many years one of the spots had been thought over for decades 

“That’s why I am here your grace” the second man spoke up and they explained what the issue was, and it was just as I had suspected. 

The Mondlay bridge was always a spot on the map that we fought over as it went across the Mondlay river that separated the west and the rest of the land, The bridge the only way to cross it, the river was essential water supply for both kingdoms and the bridge essential for trade between the kingdoms one mans farm was pushing too close to the bridge a neutral agreed area and the other man was blaming the other’s house for also being to close. It seems so trivial but what it meant was that both our lands now approached a neutral area which could be seen by either side as an act of movement and there for the potential for the stealing of land which would be classed as an act of war. 

It started as a debate between the two farmers and my father broke it up 

“I’m sure we can come to an understanding, perhaps for simplicity one simply takes on the bridge” My father suggested

“They can’t just take on the bridge the bridge is a neutral map point if one takes it, it’ll create an unfair balance”

“Well, we’ll all soon be the same kingdom anyway what does it matter?”

“It matters because that bridge is the edge of our borders. I don’t have the power to give him the bridge and neither do you, you give either that bridge its neutral movement”

“Well the river belongs to us”

“Like hell it does!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me boy!”

“Boy! I am the king of the western kingdom!”

“Then be a king and be diplomatic”

“Oh forgive me never was my strong point being diplomatic over illegal land hand outs what are close to war!”

“You want a war? A real war? I’ll give you a war, all of the kingdoms under my rule against you. You think you’d last a week”

“You think you would?” he asked “You want a war. I’ll give you one. Winner takes all and bends the knee to the king” 

“Thomas-” My sister tried to interfere 

“You already swore to me the moment you agreed to wed my daughter”

“Like hell, I did! Keep your daughter and the bridge. I’ll see you on the battlefield” he says My sister did try and stop him but he pushed her away and marched off into the castle 

“Go on go! We’ll see who bends first you little shit!” my father yelled 

My sister ran off angrily given father basically just sent her husband away with the threats of war.  

I too left not wanting to deal with the madness to follow and sheepishly I went to his chamber already his guards blocked the door 

“Get lost princess” one told me 

“Please just let me see him”

“Wait that’s y/n?” he asked from within

“Yes sir.”

“Let her in”

“Sir-”

“I said let her in!” the guards moved and let me inside seeing him angrily directing his staff to pack up the room 

“Its true your really going?”

“I have to. I imagine it hard for you-”

“I understand, I think my father was wrong to simply assume he could handle it so simply”

He smiled giving my forehead a kiss “You’re such a clever girl” 

I blushed a little “You’re really going?”

“Men of the West don’t let their men fight their wars my angel, if we go to war we sit at the front always” he says “I was a fool, I said things I shouldn’t have. In the heat of it all”

“Until one bends the knee was a bit intense Thomas.”

“Well, at least we’ll get it sorted. One way or another” he says as many of his staff took his things to prepare to leave, leaving us alone in his chamber “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me, I can have the staff back your things within the hour we can be on the road by sunset. You can stay in the Vantis castle with me, the royal bed chamber might just be big enough for the two of us” he cooes holding my hand “I promise I’ll keep my best fighters behind to protect you”

“....I want to Thomas, really I do”

“Then come with me.”

“I can’t. It would break my father's heart. I’m sorryThomas but I have to stay here”

“If that’s really what you want”

“It's not. But I have no choice.”

He nods giving my lips a soft kiss “When we come for the castle, I promise no harm will come to you. So long as you’ll wait for me?”

“I promise” I smiled giving him a gentle kiss he pulled back and wiped my tear struggling to hide his own before he went to the bag he was to take with him the last of them in the room 

“Here,” he says offering me a small red velvet box I took it and carefully opened it, it was a beautiful silver ring no gems but sculpted so intricately it was beyond beautiful “it was my mothers, I was suppose to give it to Ilisya apon my arrival. Instead, I saved it. wear it until I return”

“I can’t-”

“Please, Ilisya doesn't know about it neither does your father you won’t get into any trouble, please” 

“I will wear it always, and think of you” I smiled he had to wipe a tear away before taking it from the box and slipping it on my finger 

“I pray it won’t be long before I see you again. And when I do I swear I’ll make you my bride” he says giving my lips one final kiss before he took his bag and headed out to join his men. 

I did as he asked and wore the ring always, no one ever asked about it far too much was going on. We had been at war for a good six months now and casualties were high on both sides, I was fearful but did my best to smile for my father as it always gave him hope. I don’t know really what I wanted if my father won, Thomas would have to bend the knee unifying the kingdom but he’d surely be imprisoned if not worse. If Thomas won my father would have to bend the knee giving up all our controlled lands in the north, south and east giving us again a unified king but I don’t know what would happen then to my father, Perhaps the best case was for thomas to win atleast then i’d see him again and perhaps he’d be merciful on my father for me. Even though I hadn’t seen Thomas I still spoke to him regularly, at first it was a secret messenger now a black raven who would come to my window with small parchment scrolls that we’d send back and forth to each other writing the sweetest of letters about how we missed each other and all the things we’d do once the war was over all of which of course I kept secret. 

I had hidden myself away as best I could the city was under attack and our men were being slaughtered I knew it would only be a matter of time before they reached the castle and I wasn’t sure of the fate that awaited me, My sister had already hidden herself down in the dungeons with her sewing girls in hope the strong walls and bars would protect them, I had hidden myself in the upper part of the throne room as I wanted to know if anything would happen as soon as it did, even if I had a dagger in hand just incase. As I remember the fate of the princesses of the east when we arrived to take their castle. The three younger girls were slaughtered and the two elder princesses were chained, stripped and raped by the whole army. I know Thomas said I’d be safe but that was a while ago and honestly, if his men broke the castle who would be here to stop them. I saw my father standing protecting the throne with a few of his men when I heard the door being busted though and the western men rushed in swords in hand, I held my dagger closely incase I was to need it. And I saw him, thomas came in stepping confidently onto the stone floor much like how I first saw him but more rugged and strained from his time at war and of course having just fought his way in with his men.

“You little shit” my father complained drawing his sword

“Miss me?” Thomas smirked, 

My father sent his guards after him but it was nothing to Thomas like trampling a daisy in his wake, leaving him and my father at ends of the throne room floor.

I had to look away as men rushed up the corridor egar to attack it was hard given they had long swords and I had a dagger but I kept them at bay even if it cost me a cut on the arm until they saw my hand and moved back rushing past seeming to now utterly ignore me. By the time I looked back thomas and my father were both bloody fighting in the centre of the room below the iron chandelier shouting at each other. 

“You war moungering little shit! You’ve taken everything from me! You’ve destroyed my kingdom! And my home! Is that not enough for you”

“No. you expected me to bow like a damn dog to your power, I have sown you all your alligences, all the power you thought you had is worthless against me!”

“What more do you want from me? I opened my home to you, I gave you my daughter”

“I defiled your daughter!”

“y-You WHAT!” he screamed attacking him so much he knocked him to the floor but he held his ground 

“I defiled your daughter! I took her innocence”

“Before you’d even married her. You sick little shit!”

“Hummm wrong daughter!” he smirked knocking my father off his feet

“No… no! Not my y/n! Tell me you did not touch her!” “I did far more than touch her.” “She is an angel!”

“She’s my angel. I fucked her innocence away”

“YOU BASTARD!” He screamed attacking him again “You defiled my daughter! Not only are you a traitor. A murderer. You're a rapist too”

“She welcomed it. Let me take her willingly and opened her legs far more after that too”

“Say it isn’t true. Not my little girl”

“She’s my angel. And she took me to heaven and back a thousand times. I never so much as touched Ilisya” 

“You only say this to hurt me! It will not work. You will never have this throne! I’d see it burn before I saw you sit there”

“You won’t have to see it.” he says forcing my father to his feet bleeding heavily “I offer you a deal. Give your life here and now and I will unify the kingdom by sitting on that throne and the world will remember you as the king who tried to prevent peace.”

“Or what?”

“Or I can let you live.”

“What price do you put on my life?”

“I will take the throne after you are dead, and our kingdoms will unify”

“But?”

“But. you will give me y/n” 

“To what end?”

“I will take her. As my bride. And as future queen” 

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then I will kill you. Right here, right now and I will wed her anyway. The choice I’m giving you is simply your blessing for your life.” he says “A chance to live out the rest of your miserable life, to see your daughters again, and to meet your grandchildren. Or die. And watch it all from above” 

“I’d rather die.”

“Suit yourself”

“No!” I shouted scurrying down to them 

“Y/n!” Thomas smiled immediately taking me into his arms and kissing me “I’ve missed you so much”

“I’ve missed you too, but please If you love me grant him mercy” 

“For you. Of course” he nods “You may have mercy if that’s what you want.” he asked him 

“You really love him?” my father asked me

“More then anything” I smiled nuzzling into his neck

“You love her?” he asks 

“With all my heart” he smiled “I’d die for her.”

“As would I.” he nods “Do not let me linger as a relic of the past. You have my blessing let the kingdom be born anew under this king and queen” 

“If that is your wish” he nods he was merciful making it quick so my father wouldn’t suffer I hid myself away in Thomas’ neck so I didn’t watch and he moved me away so I wouldn’t see his body “You wore it?” he asks looking at my hand 

“Always” I nodded 

“My sweet little angel,” he cooes “My queen” he smiled giving me a soft kiss “There is knowone on this earth I want beside me more then you” He smiled holding my hand tightly as we ascended the steps and he took his seat on the throne. 

[delicatenightfury]

Star of the Mountain Chapter 24

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

Please comment, reblog, and like!

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Pleasantries with Gandalf were short-lived. The wizard seemed very anxious and dove right into what he wished to say.

“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves,” he said. “War is coming. The sepsis of Dolguldor have been emptied.” Thranduil cast a lazy look over at Bard, indicating that he was not truly taking the Grey Wizard seriously. “You’re all in mortal danger!”

“What are you talking about?” Bard asked.

“I can see you know nothing of wizards,” Thranduil replied before Gandalf could. The elven king stood to pour a glass of wine. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from the distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed Bard a glass. “But sometimes a storm is just a storm.”

“Not this time,” Gandalf said. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters that have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

“Gandalf,” Oreliell said, stepping forward slightly. “Are you sure of this?”

The wizard nodded gravely.

“I have seen them with my own eyes.”

“Why show his hand now?” Thranduil questioned.

“Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” He led the elves and human out of the tent to look at the mountain. “Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within but for where it lies, its strategic position. This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lórien, the Shire… even Gondor itself will fall.”

“These orcs armies you speak of, Mirthrandir, where are they?” Thranduil asked.

Gandalf sighed heavily, unable to give an answer. Thranduil rolled his eyes and returned to his tent. Oreliell and Vedis looked at Gandalf.

“Are you all right, Gandalf?” Oreliell asked quietly. He looked rather beaten up. “Perhaps you can have Vedis take a look at your wounds-”

“I am fine,” he said. “Truly. Besides, we have much larger things to worry about than a few cuts and bruises, don’t you think?” He paused and looked between them. “How is the company?”

Oreliell sighed.

“They are all alive. But the dragon sickness has taken root in Thorin’s mind.”

Gandalf nodded gravely.

“Then we must think of a way to get through to him.”

“Gandalf, I’ve tried. He is my One and even I struggled to speak with him.”

“I understand. Nevertheless, we mustn’t give up.”

Oreliell smiled a little.

“You’re crazier than I thought to believe I would give up.”

Gandalf smiled back at her before returning to the tent. Vedis placed a comforting hand on Oreliell’s arm.

“All will be well, muinthel.”

Oreliell nodded and followed her sister to the tent. Gandalf was back to trying to convince Thranduil.

“Since when has my council counted for so little?” he asked. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“I think you’re trying to save your dwarvish friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course.” Thranduil rose from his chair. “You started this, Mirthrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it.” Oreliell exchanged glances with her sister as Thranduil approached one of his guards. “Are the archers in position?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it. The dwarves are out of time.”

Gandalf stormed out of the tent, clearly angered. Oreliell looked at the elven king, who still stared out at the mountain.

“You said that you would attack at dawn,” Oreliell said. “Would you be so heartless as to shoot while they are not expecting it?”

“They have been given their warning,” Thranduil said.

“And what about the warning Gandalf has given you? We have traveled many months with him. If what he says about the orcs is true, then I think we must at least consider his words.”

“Oreliell.” She glanced over her shoulder at her sister, only to realize that Vedis was no longer standing there. “You’ll never believe who just showed up.”

A moment later, Vedis entered the tent with Bard, Gandalf, and Bilbo in tow.

“Bilbo,” Oreliell said with a smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re all right, Oreliell,” Bilbo said.

“Who is this?” Thranduil said.

“Bilbo Baggins, the official burglar of the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.”

Thranduil sat down in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly at Bilbo. The hobbit shuffled in place.

“Yes,” he said under his breath. “Sorry about that.” Oreliell glanced at Vedis, who was also smiling. They watched as the hobbit stepped forward, pulling something out of his pocket. “I came to give you this.”

He placed the item on the table and pulled away the cloth. Everyone stared in shock and awe.

“Oh my gosh,” Vedis murmured.

“The Heart of the Mountain,” Thranduil breathed, standing slowly. “The King’s Jewel.”

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard said. He looked down at Bilbo. “How is this yours to give?”

“I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure.”

Oreliell almost laughed in disbelief. She was stunned by his courage. But she couldn’t help but worry about what Thorin might do if he found out.

“Why would you do this?” Bard asked. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Bilbo told them. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They’re suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you could possibly imagine. But they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else.” Oreliell noticed that he glanced her way. “In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war.”

Oreliell glanced at the two leaders. Bard turned to Thranduil, still in shock at the hobbit’s actions. Thranduil looked at him for a moment before looking back at Bilbo.

“We will take this into careful consideration,” Thranduil said. “Someone will show you a place to rest for the night.”

Bilbo nodded. Gandalf ushered him toward the entrance, but the halfling suddenly stopped.

“I nearly forgot!” he said. He turned around and pulled a sheath far too large for his body. He handed them to Oreliell. “You left your swords back at the mountain. I figured you’d want them back.”

Oreliell looked down at the swords then at Bilbo. She was surprised that he had noticed and that he had brought them with him to give to her. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Bilbo. You did not have to do that, but I greatly appreciate it.”

Bilbo smiled at her then stepped out of the tent with Gandalf. Oreliell looked back at her blades. She had not really realized that she had left them in the mountain; her haste to leave made it slip her mind. But Bilbo had brought back both her swords and her pair of daggers.

“He is a brave hobbit,” Vedis commented.

“Yes. Much different from when we first met him. I just hope he stays safe tomorrow if war breaks out.”

Vedis put her hand on Oreliell’s shoulder. The two exchanged small smiles.

“The halfling is quite impressive,” Thranduil said, regaining their attention. 

“Indeed he is. You also need better guards,” Oreliell replied, barely casting him a glance.

She heard Bard half choke on a laugh, but he tried to cover it with a cough. Oreliell smiled to herself. She didn’t need to look at Thranduil to know his eyes had narrowed. 

“I noticed that both of you are without armor. If you are interested, I can provide both of you with sets for tomorrow.”

Oreliell wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to ask why on earth he thought they would need armor if they were going to confront Thorin. But she knew better.

An army of orcs were on the way.

And she recalled something Thorin had told her long ago: “never underestimate dwarves.” She hated to come before the man she loved dressed for battle, but she wasn’t sure what kind of plan he had come up with to handle Thranduil’s army.

Oreliell sighed and glanced at Thranduil. She nodded.

“Then I shall make sure that you have it.”

He stepped aside to deliver the orders to one of his guards. Bard looked at the Arkenstone then at the sisters.

“What do you make of it?” he asked. “The stone.”

“Bilbo is right about it,” Oreliell said after a moment. “Thorin craves this stone more than anything. It is sacred to the dwarven people, the crowning glory and symbol of their house and power. Thorin will not be pleased to see it in your hands.”

“Our hands? Would you not carry this?”

“I barely want to look at it,” she admitted. “That rock has taken away more from me in the past few days than I ever wanted to lose. And that says a lot, for I have lost much in my long lifetime. Simply seeing me siding with you will create a reaction. I do not want Thorin to think that I have betrayed him further by taking that stone.”

Bard nodded.

“I understand. I shall speak with Thranduil to see what we shall do with it.”

“Before we get to that,” Thranduil said as he stepped back inside the tent, “I would like to have a word with Oreliell.”

Bard glanced at her before going outside. Vedis stayed a minute longer. She studied Thranduil for a long moment before looking at her sister.

“I will go inspect the armor we are being given. If you would like, I can take your swords with me?” she said. 

“Thank you,” Oreliell said, passing her blades over.

“Let me know if you need me.”

“I will, muinthel.” 

Vedis nodded and stepped out. Oreliell took a breath before looking at Thranduil. The elven king had remained standing and was watching her.

“{You risk a lot going with us tomorrow,}” Thranduil said after a long moment. “{Why do it?}”

“{Because I have already lost so much. And I do not wish to lose my betrothed as well.}”

“{Even after everything he has put you through?}”

“{Do not pretend you know him better than I do.}”

Thranduil motioned for her to follow him. They stepped outside once again to look at the mountain. The braziers were lit above the gate, but otherwise everything appeared normal. Oreliell couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside.

“I want you to know that I truly do not want this,” Thranduil said. “While the heirlooms of my people are of great importance to me, this was not the outcome I had hoped for. I tried to avoid this when your company passed through my kingdom, but Thorin turned me down.”

“Because he still holds a grudge against you for what you did when Smaug first took the mountain. Or rather, what you didn’t do.”

Thranduil sighed. He turned to look at her.

“I want you to understand what it is you are risking going into this, what this could potentially do to you if things do not go smoothly tomorrow.”

“I am well aware what could happen, Thranduil. And that is why I must be present tomorrow. If something were to happen to Thorin, I would never be able to live with myself. I will protect Thorin with my very life.” She looked at the mountain again. “No matter what happens to me, he will live.”

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #78: Rhaegar Wins, but make it a fairy tale

After posting #77, it occurred to me that the most realistic course of action for an orphan upon learning his real parents are a king and queen is not one of revenge for crimes he may be too young to understand against his mother. It's of wanting to run away and live with his real parents in a castle instead of having to stay with his evil stepmother. So I thought: why not lean into the fairy tale aspect?

Or: What if Rhaegar found his long lost son living among the Starks?

Aka: The Lost Prince Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything goes according to canon until the Trident. Rhaegar defeats Robert Baratheon in single combat, but does not kill him, and forces his surrender. An injured Robert is imprisoned and the combined royalist/rebel army marches on King's Landing, overthrows Aerys II, and installs Rhaegar on the Iron Throne.

Robert is stripped of his lands and titles and sent into exile. Stannis, who was only following his liege's orders, is made Lord of Storm's End and in one stroke becomes Rhaegar's fiercest supporter.

Rhaegar, hesitant to leave his capitol so soon after coming to power, sends Ned to retrieve Lyanna from the Tower of Joy.

Ned finds Lyanna dying in childbirth and claims her son for her own, telling Rhaegar both died in childbed.

Years pass, and Jon grows up in Winterfell with a stepmother who is understandably disgruntled by his presence. (Dealer's choice on how wicked a wicked stepmother Catelyn actually is, whether truly evil or just appearing so in the eyes of a young child.) And so when a 6-year-old Jon overhears Ned and Benjen talking about his real parentage, Jon decides to run away and find his real father, the king.

This is made easier by a royal progress touring the Seven Kingdoms Rhaegar is undertaking after stabilizing his kingdom, which is on the way to Winterfell - indeed, it's why Ned and Benjen were discussing what to do about Jon in the first place. So instead of needing to run all the way to King's Landing, Jon just has to wait a few weeks and find a way to speak to Rhaegar.

He does, slipping into the king's guest rooms and doing his whole Rhaegar, I am your son speech - which, after some tears and confusion, Rhaegar wholeheartedly accepts. Rhaegar promises to take him home to King's Landing, where Jon - rechristened Aemon - will be loved and treated like a prince.

All this has unfortunate consequences for House Stark. Ned is sent to the Wall for his treason, Catelyn is sent to the Starry Sept to become a septa, and their three children are left in the care of a distant cousin, Lord Ondrew Locke. Though young Robb is named Lord of Winterfell, Lord Locke wields all real power in the north.

Jon - Aemon - is not immediately aware of this. He's too happy to be surrounded by his real family, who love him and treat him well. Rhaenys and Aegon are excited to have another playmate, and even Queen Elia enjoys his quiet, calm presence - and the pressure it takes off of her to birth further heirs.

As the years pass, cracks begin to form. On top of the guilt Aemon feels for depriving his cousins of their parents - he never receives any replies to his letters, though that may be Locke's doing - he's slowly becoming aware that there are many in the court who would like to use him, either to gain power for themselves or deprive the Dornish of the power they'll surely gain when Aegon becomes king.

Add to this the fact that Rhaegar, while initially pleased to have a piece of Lyanna return to him, is still obsessed with his prophesy. The dragon must have three heads - but who? His sons and daughter? His son, daughter, and sister - and if so, which son? Or maybe it's his sons and his brother? His favorites shift as goes from one interpretation to another, which leads to him playing his family against each other - and the younger members of his family seeing each other as rivals for their father's/brother's attention.

And Elia? While initially Aemon's greatest ally, she's unable to help comparing her own sickly, bookish son with her knightly stepson - and knows he'll be a danger to Aegon for as long as he lives, whether he wishes to be or not.

It all comes to a head in 298 AC, when Rhaegar dies of wounds gained while jousting against the captain of his Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne, ten days before.

Aegon - in Sunspear for the installation of Arianne Martell as Princess of Dorne with his mother and aunt - is named Lord of the Seven Kingdoms as soon as the ravens arrive. And that should be that, except Aemon - who'd stayed behind in King's Landing - is immediately named king by those who stand the most to lose by Aegon coming to the throne.

And so Westeros falls into civil war over which son of Rhaegar should rule.

At first it seems clear Aegon VI will prevail - he has Dorne behind him, and, with his sister's marriage to Wilias Tyrell, the Reach. Add to that the Riverlands - which have hated Aemon since he was still the bastard Jon Snow - and the North - whose regent, Lord Locke, owes all his power to his Targaryen masters - and that's four kingdoms at his side. And with the Iron Islands in open rebellion, only three could possibly back Aemon.

But what a three they are. The Stormlands, Westerlands, and Vale all side with Aemon for a variety of reasons - power, hatred of Dorne and/or the Reach, fondness for the Starks - and can easily field an army to match Aegon's.

The war rages without much input from its figureheads. Aegon is kept safely in Sunspear, hastily married to his aunt Daenerys to secure his line and claim, and is largely a puppet of his cousin Princess Arianne. Aemon is kept safely in King's Landing, hastily married to his self-proclaimed Hand's granddaughter Myrcella, and is largely a puppet of Tywin Lannister.

But Arianne is not the careful planner her father was. While calculating, her fierce temper often gets the better of her, alienating many of her allies. Equally Tywin is feared, not loved, and growing old enough that many are willing to shake his hold if pressed.

Just when it seems like all Aegon's army has to do is march on King's Landing, the unthinkable happens: Aegon VI is killed by a shadow in the safety of Sunspear. Many think Arianne ordered it sent if she didn't conjure it up herself - especially as she declares her husband, Prince Consort Viserys, Aegon's successor. Much of her army deserts to the Reach, which declares for Wilias Tyrell's wife, Princess Rhaenys.

Around the same time, Robb finally frees himself from Lord Locke's control, ordering the man sent to the Wall. Though he has little love for the cousin who destroyed his family, he is Northern enough to acknowledge that after Aegon's death Aemon is the legal heir, and so the North switches sides.

Meanwhile, Aemon is devastated to learn of the death of his brother. When he eventually learns it had been sent by Stannis and his Red Witch, he arrests the both and executes them on the steps of the Baelor's Sept for sorcery and regicide. Quite naturally, much the Stormlands abandons his cause - a course of events which very much displeases his Hand.

Into this mess arrives Robert fresh from exile, with the Golden Company at his back and Blackfyre in hand. He's joined by many of the Stormlords who'd deserted Aemon, and they make strong progress against both the Dornish and Reacher forces.

A war of five kings rages.

Eventually Robb subdues the Riverlands, forcing Edmure to submit to the North's overlordship - and to marry his sister Sansa, who in the absence of Catelyn grew quite quickly into the shrewd woman we see later in canon.

Similarly, Robert with his fresh troops takes Highgarden and plans to marry himself to the newly widowed Rhaenys - only for Viserys' Dornish forces to poison the lot at the wedding, to devastating losses on both sides. It is said Robert's squire and Rhaenys' handmaid, trysting in the stables, were the only ones on either side to survive.

That same night, Tywin is found dead in his bed. (Either of old age or very carefully poisoned by Tyiron, who is installed as Aemon's Hand the next day.)

As autumn turns to winter, Aemon leads his armies south into Dorne. Weary, isolated, and largely dispirited by the war, the Dornish nevertheless put up a strong resistance - but Viserys is nonetheless captured and brought in chains back to King's Landing, where he was imprisoned in some comfort until he broke his neck trying to escape his tower prison some months later. His wife Arianne kills herself rather than be taken prisoner. The lordship of Dorne passes to her brother Quentyn on the condition he wed Aegon's widow, Daenerys - which suits both just fine, as they'd been lovers since at least Aegon's death.

The Ironborn are quickly mopped up and the long winter does much to defuse lingering tensions.

Aemon rules for sixty years and spends much of his time dealing with the consequences of the War of Five Kings - chief among them massive loss of life on all sides. There are multiple invasion attempts from various alliances of Free Cities, all of which are repelled - gaining Aemon a strong reputation as a warrior king. Tensions flare up at least once a decade between the Reach, Stormlands, and Dorne, and the fact that Aemon manages to maneuver them each time from all-out war gains him a reputation for shrewdness as well. By his death the Seven Kingdoms are more stable than they've been in generations - but at great cost.

Bonuses include: 1) An exploration of how family dynamics and loyalties often play a great role in Medieval warfare. Of particular focus should be the relationship between Aemon and Aegon, which starts strong until forced apart by outside tensions - and the relationship between Aemon and Robb, which starts strong, ebbs after Aemon is taken to King's Landing, and regains a shadow of its former strength after the War ends; 2) An exploration of familial love in every form it takes, from Catelyn's understandable preference for her own children to Rhaegar's utilization of his kin as pawns in a prophecy that never comes to Elia's fear for her son overriding her love for her stepson, and so forth; and 3) Meditations on the inherent meaninglessness of title, wealth, and temporal power, somewhat along the lines of Book II of The Consolation of Philosophy - perhaps even with Aemon penning something similar during the years he's under the thumb of Tywin Lannister.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Black Prince | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Duncan the Damned | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon the Just | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Lord Protector | Lost Prince | Maekar the Maester | People’s Queen | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall| Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous| River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Weirwood Queen | Wolf Queen

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[aleksanderscult]

Hi! First off I want to say how grateful I am for everything you post! I love seeing your ideas and analysis :)

Second, what do you think the ancient Grishaverse world looked like? Or the world the Darkling would’ve grown up in? I feel like there would be countries and kingdoms that have since been forgotten about, but we didn’t see much reference to things like that in canon. The most we learned about the old world is the sildroher’s existence north of Fjerda.

Thank you, anon! ❤️

Oh yay! A history related question!

I've spent much time with myself thinking about which time period does "Demon in the Wood" fit in.

I think it is fair to say that during the events of "Demon in the Wood" the world resembled our own Middle Ages. I once took a peak at Bardugo's moodboard for that book and the aesthetic "screams" Dark Ages to me.

It was, more or less, the time when "Little Knife", "The Witch of Duva" and all the other stories of "The Language of Thorns" took place, so I would say technological advancements during his childhood were not at their peak, superstitions were very common (although for them they were not that much superstitions as facts) and legends were not quite fantastical in their mind. They were something ordinary and existed around them. It was more like a reality and part of their everyday life.

I'm absolutely sure that many grand kingdoms existed, like Söndermane. But, as with our own world, some of them fell from wars or decay or even magic. By the time of the trilogy, some of these castles' existence could be considered real (like "yeah that castle existed once") but others as a piece of fiction. A fairytale. And in time, what was once history became bedtime stories for the children so they were passed into legend.

So in short, it was a dark world where magic was treated differently depending on the kingdom and people. And of course depending on the magic (because it's evident how Grisha weren't accepted anywhere but the sildroher were. But then again only because they gave treasure and would only stay for three months). Even kingdoms had a more fairytale vibe to them but in a dark, creepy way.

[esther-dot]

If the FF and the northerners start cooperating what’s the need for a King Beyong the Wall?

Well, the FF have a distinct, and in some ways, incompatible culture with the Northerners, I mean, Jon's thoughts are pretty harsh initially

Jon had no answer for that. Small wonder that the Seven Kingdoms thought the free folk scarcely human. They have no laws, no honor, not even simple decency. They steal endlessly from each other, breed like beasts, prefer rape to marriage, and fill the world with baseborn children. Yet he was growing fond of Tormund Giantsbane, great bag of wind and lies though he was. Longspear as well. And Ygritte . . . no, I will not think about Ygritte. (ASOS, Jon II)

so imo, it's a little unrealistic that merely being on this side of the Wall, means all is well. There's a lot of prejudice towards them too, so they'd need, I'll say, an advocate? In ADWD, Jon is already trying to explain their POV, but even post wars, I'd still think it necessary. What if a Northman's daughter runs off with a free man? And vice versa? There's potential to assume the worst about the people they've considered enemies, they may think abduction/rape, that could easily spiral. You need someone who has the respect of the FF and standing in the North to maintain the peace.

This is part of the Jon and Mance convo, and I don't think it's out of nowhere to think huh, this might be the role Jon is specifically prepared for, and I'm sure it's passages like this that contribute to @justleaves theorizing:

Open the gate and let them pass. Easy to say, but what must follow? Giants camping in the ruins of Winterfell? Cannibals in the wolfswood, chariots sweeping across the barrowlands, free folk stealing the daughters of shipwrights and silversmiths from White Harbor and fishwives off the Stony Shore? "Are you a true king?" Jon asked suddenly. "I've never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne, if that's what you're asking," Mance replied. "My birth is as low as a man's can get, no septon's ever smeared my head with oils, I don't own any castles, and my queen wears furs and amber, not silk and sapphires. I am my own champion, my own fool, and my own harpist. You don't become King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won't follow a name, and they don't care which brother was born first. They follow fighters. When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they'd sooner fight than follow." "You can kill your enemies," Jon said bluntly, "but can you rule your friends? If we let your people pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?" "Whose laws? The laws of Winterfell and King's Landing?" Mance laughed. "When we want laws we'll make our own. You can keep your king's justice too, and your king's taxes. I'm offering you the horn, not our freedom. We will not kneel to you." (ASOS, Jon X)

Not only does Jon go ahead and bring them past the Wall (the thing their king wanted), they swear to him, don't kneel, but they do swear, so the spec in this post and this post about Jon being their leader, a pseudo king / Lord of the Gift, it feels like it could be the followup. So no, not King Beyond the Wall, but a leader/peacekeeper in the North.

Basically, it’s kinda a crossover of the endings people talk about for Jon, incorporates all the king foreshadowing (which truly does puzzle me now), resolves the issue of Sansa marrying/needing to carry on the Stark line...I think it's a fun angle!

[kilojulietsierra]

Do You Take This Man? (Ragnar the Younger x OFC - One Shot)

Started watching The Last Kingdom last week and already on season three lol Ragnar was definitly the first Dane that caught my eye

Warnings: 18+ content, they’re Danes so crude talk, marriage negotiations, mentions of violence, first time sex, outdoors sex, slightly au, pregnancy, brief mention of pregnant sex

~~~~

"Ragnar the Younger,  It would be a better match than even our father could have wished." Tovah said as he sat by the fire, staring through the flames at his sister.

"It is. I am not arguing that." She snapped back at him, "I'm not arguing the man."

"You're arguing the marriage itself then." He wiped the grease from his hands and pulled another bite of meat from the bone, "Sister I love you, I do. But, i want a woman and Gods knows I cannot suffer another one until you are gone." He laughed as he dodged a stick flying at his head. "Let me hear your argument then."

"I have no argument." She took a bite of her own food. "I only wish to make the decision myself when the time comes."

"You know the choice is yours Teeva. I only ask that... "Her brother sighed deeply, "Do not deny him just for the sake of being a pain in the ass."

~~~

Ragnar Ragnarson, son of Ragnar the Fearless, Sat across from them in the hall that their father had built. Tovah and Teeva sat on either side of the fire, Ragnar between them. A tactic. Teeva wanted to see who he would address more, her or her brother.

He was tall, strong, fearsome and handsome, all things she was pleased to see. But also annoyed, these things would all make it the harder to refuse him if his offer was anything close to respectful.

"So tell me Ragnarson, what would you have my sister for?" The pleasantries, the little that Danes bothered with, aside Tovah got to the heart of the matter. They all knew why Ragnar was here.

Ragnar held her brothers gaze, "I would have her for a wife."  He looked to her, calm and steady, "If you speak of price  I have brought silver, though I'm sure it is not enough."

"Why do you say that?" Teeva cocked her head to the side.

He spoke to her brother when he said, "I imagine there is not enough silver in all the North, Wessex or Denmark," He then spoke to her, "That could convince Teeva Tovarsdottir to become chained to a man that sought to put her in her place, to claim her and tame her."

"Then why are you here." Her voice was cold as was her gaze but her heart pounded in her chest at the way he held her gaze and quirked the corner of his mouth in a smile.

"Because I am a man who would not do these things." He leaned forward, turned his gaze on her brother. "I was there when our fathers raided Heimsdeep together." Both the siblings flinched, and Ragnar spared them a pause out of respect. "And I was there with you when his man betrayed him there."

Tovah interrupted him, "Our families have always been good and loyal allies."

"And that will not change," His eyes flicked to her and then back, "No matter how this ends."

Tovah nodded deeply, raised his cup of ale in agreement.

Ragnar continued, "I was also there at Moran's, you know this, when the son and daughter of Tovar took their revenge." This time when his eyes landed on Teeva they did not leave, did not waver. Icy green boring into hers, dark and lush like the forest. "I saw you fight with sword and shield and bare hands along side your brother, and along side your father's men. A true shield maiden."

Her cheeks warmed and she hoped it was hidden by the hues of the fire. She had no words so she only nodded her thanks at the compliment.

" Any man that would try to take that fire from her would be doing all Dane's a dishonor. She's afraid I am that kind of man but I am not."

"Then what kind of man are you Ragnar Ragnarson?" Tovah braced his elbows on his knees and leaned towards the other Dane. "What would you give her if you are not these men that would see her... tamed?"

Ragnar smiled and looked away from Tovah, answering his question but clearly speaking to Teeva. "I am a man that would see her with braids in her hair and ink on her skin. I would give her a reputation, lands, a hall, people who would follow her and respect her as they would me. I would give her a good, strong name from a long line of warriors, all of whom would smile down on a woman like this." He was smiling now, tight lipped but a smile nonetheless, creasing his forehead and the corner of his eyes.

Teeva had almost forgotten her brother was in the room, nearly jumped when he asked another question. "And what would you have her give you in return?"

Now he smiled, truly smiled, and it made her nervous. She was certain this is where her silly, fragile fantasy would end.

"I would ask only of her to give me strong sons and clever daughters, a safe hall, respect for my people, and a warm bed at night." He winked with the last, his smile wide and his eyes dancing like the fire before them. "And an extra sword at my side should I need it."

They held each others gaze for a long, silent moment, sizing eachohter up. Teevas heart was pounding in her ears.

Almost as if he had forgotten him too, Ragnar turned back to Tovah. "I know how you care for your sister, and she for you. I wish not to stamp down that fire within her, I would rather stoke it. See her become the woman the gods mean for her to be."

The men shared a long, discerning look of their own before Tovah looked to her over the fire, "Well sister, the man has said his piece, and I am for it. In my eyes this would be a match our ancestors and his would both be proud of."

Teeva studied Ragnar, now slouched back comfortably in his seat, relaxed under her gaze. Dare she say enjoying it.

When she spoke she made sure her voice was clear and strong, "Give me the night to consider."  

~~~

The small camp against the hillside was quiet, the fires doused and the men asleep in their furs. Canvas strung from tree branches made for a few simple shelters. On bare feet Teeva crept through the trees, her feet cold but light on the soft ground. She had paid attention, knew which canvas she needed.

He lay on his back, on a single, thick fur, with his arms crossed above his head and his feet propped up on his saddle. He did not snore, did not move or even twitch. His chest rose and fell  and was bare, the night air comfortable enough to sleep that way, but a second fur was draped over his lower half.

Standing a few feet away she watched for a long moment, steadying her breath, until she was sure her approach had not awoken him. Then on soft, slow feet, with a dagger in her hand she approached. She paused, within arms reach of him. Satisfied she was still undetected, she moved. Reached for his throat with the blade and to cover his mouth with her hand.

In an instant , the mere beat of a heart, she watched in panic as his eyes snapped open, his lips turned in a smile and she was on her back in the blink of those green eyes, head spinning and the wind knocked out of her.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He whispered, crouching above her, keeping her pinned to the ground.

"Shouldn't you?" She whispered back through gritted teeth.

Ragnar continued to smile as he plucked the knife from her fingers and stuck in the ground next to them. "There are only two reasons for you to be here, I cannot wait to hear which it is?"

Her lungs finally full of air again she breathed deep, noticing the way his eyes jumped from her face to her chest with the motion. When his eyes came back to hers she was smiling back at him, a small, cheeky grin. "I have not made my decision yet."

He sat back on his haunches, keeping only one hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. "Decision? On if you will kill me rather than be my woman?"

"I did not come to kill you Ragnar Ragnarson."

Ragnar could not help but notice how relaxed she seemed in her position, he considered whether it was because she truly feared nothing... or only that she did not fear him. His eyes flicked to the knife again, "The knife leads me to believe otherwise, Leeva Tovarsdottir."

Her smile grew and Ragnar felt something spark within him, deep within him.

"It serves only to make a point."

"And what point was that."

"That I am in control."

He laughed, his grip on her shoulder tightening, as he fought to keep himself quiet. Again, he noticed she did not flinch away from him or his hand. "Says the one on her back."

"Is that not how you would prefer me?" Her eyes were dangerous. Daring, goading him into making a misstep and failing this little challenge of hers.

Ragnar chewed the inside of his cheek, tasting his next words before he spoke them. He let her go, plucked the blade from the earth and wiped it over his breeches. Flipping it gracefully over his fingers before offering it back to her, handle first. "I would have you many ways, all of which I would love to show you, but only if you speak plainly. Why are you here?"

Her face changed. Right before his eyes, so subtle he might have missed it in the darkness if not for their closeness. The warrior in her was gone, even for just a moment, and the girl was there. The pretty young girl, on the eve of a marriage. A nervous, beautiful, young girl.

Teeva fortified herself as much as she could, ignoring the heat in her cheeks and the tightness in her chest. "Is it so outside of reason for a girl to know?"

Ragnars face scrunched, brow furrowed in confusion, "Know what?" He still held the blade in one hand, braced against his bent knee.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. Noticing with a thrill that this time Ragnars eyes held firmly to her own and did not go wandering. So, there on the ground in his little makeshift tent, surrounded by the furs still warm from his body heat, she told him the truth. "I want to know that I will enjoy it." His face did not change, his brow remained furrowed as he shook his head, still not understanding. "That I will enjoy... being married."

Still, his face remained unchanged, if anything his eyes narrowed more.

"You know... being... with the man I marry." If the earth would open up and swallow her she would have thanked the Gods.

Then, slowly, his face softened, the creases disappeared from his forehead, his eyes widened, and his smirk returned. Holding her eyes captive with his he reached for her right hand and with his own, lifted it to take the handle of the knife he still offered her. He guided her to wrap her fingers around the leather grip and took in the way her breathing had become shallow and rapid. WIthout words he moved, taking her hand that held the knife and guiding it. Until her right arm was stretched to its full length out to the side.

Ragnar, hand still wrapped tightly around hers still holding the knife, leaned in closer. He placed the tip of the blade against the earth and pushed. Slowly, steadily, together they drove the blade into the dirt. His forehead nearly touching hers he finally spoke, "Beautiful girl," His voice was low and rough, his eyes took in her face. He had never been this close to her before and even in the dark of night she was breathtaking. "If you do not enjoy it, you can take that blade and cut my throat."

Teeva gasped, her whole body trembling as Ragnar laid his body over hers and claimed her lips. Their hands fell from the handle of the dagger and found each other instead. Fingers weaving together as Ragnar nipped at her tongue and swallowed down her moans. He moved, steadily, kissing across her face to her ear, taking the lobe of it between his teeth before licking and sucking his way down her neck. "Tell me, is this what you wanted?"

"Yes." She sighed it out, tipping her head back into the furs, fighting for room to breathe. This had been her plan. Truthfully. She had snuck from the hall to lay with Ragnar, but things were not going to plan at all. She was not in control. She had meant to stay in control. Ragnar taking control of her mouth again brought her back to reality.

Her free hand, moving on some sort of baser reflex, moved to dig into his bare, muscled back. It seemed that one small movement spurred him on.

"Tell me beautiful," His voice was raspy, he was sucking in breath like a man emerging from the sea. His eyes drove into hers, "Do you want me to take you? Do you want me to show you what it will be like? To be my woman, to lay with me." His smile came back, his eyes darkened, "Did you come out here tonight to hump me?" Ragnar was near chuckling as he said it. but his one hand still held hers tight and his other was wrapped around her thigh.

She had to fight for the breath and for her voice but she answered him, clearly and truthfully, "Yes."

His smile doubled and for the second time he moved too quickly for her to stop him. Only this time she found Ragnar on his back, smiling up at her where he had her straddling his hips. "Go on then." His hands slid up her thighs to her waist but did not move further.

Again she found herself incredibly bashful, "I have clothes on." She narrowed her eyes at him, motioning to herself, "I'm fully dressed!"

"Does not matter." He chuckled. Carefully he began to move her hips with his hands, pulling her forward, "Ride me."

Her gasp, the expression on her face,  as she finally felt the hardness of him beneath her was better in and of itself than half the fucks he'd had as a young man. Her eyes snapped open wide and her hands dropped to his torso to steady herself. He did not wait, continued to move her back and forth over him, Grinding her against his hard cock, watching in awe at the faces she made. Her fingers dug into his torso and he had to grit his teeth to control himself. "Keep going." A groan escaped him as she pressed down against him harder, "Just like that."

Soon she was speeding up, his grip on her no longer controlling her movements. To be honest, Teeva herself, was not even in control of her movements. Her hips moved on their own, chasing whatever that wonderful, tingling sensation was deep between her legs. She was leaned down low over him, her hips rocking back and forth erratically over the press of his cock, the friction of their clothing between them helping her along, "Oh shit, oh... oh gods... what..."

Ragnar snarled through bared teeth, "Yes, you feel it, chase it." He surged up to kiss her, sinking a hand deep into her loose hair and taking a firm grip, moving her how he wanted her. Their mouths clashing together, all teeth and tongues as she moaned and whimpered through her release. Her short nails dug into his sides, hard enough he thought she may truly have drawn blood and a deep, uncontrollable shiver ran the length of his spine. "Gods you are a gift Teeva." He muttered the words against her lips. "So," He kissed her again, "Tell me pretty girl," He kept his hand in her hair, holding her tight, his other hand loose on her hip. "Do you want my cock? " He rolled his hips beneath her and revelled in the way she responded in kind, "Let me show you, hmm," He tugged on her hair, hard enough to tip her head back so that he could mouth greedily at the side of her neck, "Let me show you what I have for you." He rolled his hips again. "Let me show you how I will fuck my wife."

~~~

She was still naked and trembling slightly under the fur, though she was not cold and no longer nervous.

Ragnar lay next to her, propped up on one elbow while his free hand, his sword hand, traced unreadable patterns over her bare back. "So, Teeva, daughter of Tovar," He whisper against the back of her neck as he leaned into her, his hand splayed wide over the small of her back. "What have you decided? Hmm?" He kissed her there and then kissed his way to the shell of her ear, "Have I humped you well enough?" He sucked her earlobe between his lips and smiled when she shivered, "Have I swayed you? Would you marry me? Hmm. Can I have you in my bed every night, pretty girl? Make you my own and let you ride my cock whenever you please?" He chuckled as she groaned a little beneath him, half halfheartedly rolling away from him.

"Stop teasing."

He could not help the wide smile then, tugging her to him and rolling her onto her back. "Never." Ragnar reached a hand up to her face and held her, moving his thumb up to smooth the worry from her brow. "You should know, if you deny me now I'll have no choice but to kidnap you."

Teeva snorted out a laugh but leaned into the touch, "Oh really?"

"I swear it." He kissed the corner of her eye, "You are fierce and strong, beautiful beyond my words," He waited for her to relax and then continued, "And even now, spent as I am, you have my cock harder than forged steel."

She shoved him then, glaring but inside celebrating that such a feared and respected man let her handle him this way. Her eyes fell to the knife she had brought still stuck in the dirt at the edge of his furs, where he had left it, well within her reach if she had needed it. "Are all men this insatiable?"

He did not hesitate to respond, "Only when our women are this irresistible." He winked at her and in return she rolled her eyes. "Tell me now woman, will I ride out of here with you as my wife, or as my captive?"

"You will have to wait and see tomorrow won't you Ragnar Ragnarson?" She kissed him and then crawled out from under the furs to dress as quickly as she could. Hard to do with his hands and lips working against her every step of the way.

~~~

"Earl Ragnar, i hope you slept well." Tovah greeted him and his men as they entered the hall the next morning.

Ragnars eyes did not waver from her brother, but Teeva saw the corner of his lip pull back. "Very well, considering I have been anxiously awaiting an answer." When he did look her way Teeva revelled in the way it made her want to blush and hide as much as it wanted to make her smirk and stand up tall.

After last night she was certain of it. Ragnar was a man that would not treat like a cow to be bred or a slave to keep his hall. He would keep her as his wife, respect her, honor her, fight for her, father her strong sons and clever daughters. He would put her to bed every night satisfied and love her every day of his life. Here and in Valhalla.

Tavah laughed and stood to take Ragnar by the shoulders, "Then you'll be happy. My sisters first words to me this morning were that she accepts the marriage."

Ragnar embraced the slightly older Dane back and smiled, "The gods have honored me," He looked to her then, catching her eye as he continued, "more than I deserve." Ragnar looked back to her brother, slapping him hard on the back as he stepped away and towards Teeva. With a steady hand  he cupped her face gently and stroked his thumb over her brow just as he had done last night, "And I promise to live every day of my life so that I honor you in return."

The look in his eyes took her breath away as much as his words had. It was a struggle to speak as she wrapped her hand around his sturdy forearm and met his gaze, "I look forward to it."

~~~

Teeva was laughing so hard that she could hardly breathe, watching as her brothers men and Ragnars men... her husbands men, drank and played games in celebration. Watching as half a dozen men went stumbling through the fire pit and falling on their asses. She laughed as her brother and Ragnar, her husband, laughed and cheered and embraced each other in victory.

Ragnar stepped aside and accepted a mug of ale, still laughing as he raised it to his lips, but he caught her eye as he drank. She was staring at him and married or not he saw the faintest blush at her throat at being found out. She did not look away though and that made his blood sing through him. Leaving others to their games he crossed the yard to where she sat by a fire. Her eyes held his the whole way.

"You certainly look like you're enjoying yourself." She greeted him with a jest and a smile.

Without hesitation he took a knee before her where she sat, placing himself between her legs and leaning into her, his arms braced against the chair on either side of her thighs. From this position he was only a few inches away from her but had to tilt his chin up, just slightly, to look at her. "And you, sitting here with your bright smile and flushed cheeks, hmm? Are you enjoying yourself? Watching?"

"Am I not allowed to enjoy watching? My husband?" She sounded braver than she felt as she spoke, her fingers reaching out to toy with the end of Ragnar, her husbands, beard.  

A growl rose low in his throat as he leaned in closer, tugging her to the edge of her seat to meet him,  "Say it again."

She lifted the hand not holding her drink to cup his jaw, "My husband."

"Say it louder." Her pulled her flush against him, until she was barely in the seat.

If he had not been looking at her the way he was, she would never have done it. But, his eyes were burning for her and his grip was tight so she raised her voice, "My husband!"

In one easy movement, as if it was nothing, he stood with her, his arms under her ass and hoisting her up until she was at least two heads above the rest of the crowd. "Louder!"

She did not hesitate. With one hand at the back of his head to hold herself steady, eyes still locked with his, she raised her horn of ale in the air and yelled, "My husband!!"

An echoing roar of cheers and laughter rang through the hall and the yard as their people celebrated with them.

Rather than letting her down, Ragnar turned and sat in the seat she had just been sitting in, letting her settle so that she was straddling his lap. Still smiling ear to ear he kept one hand on her ass and stole her drink with the other. He finished the ale in one long gulp and then slammed the horn down next to him, his eyes never leaving hers. "Kiss me wife."

Which she did, her left hand still rested at the back of his head, under the base of his braid, and she used it to pull them together.  

The kiss was short and sweet and Ragnar was not having it. When she pulled away he trapped her in his arm. She would say he snarled if it hadn't been so full of adoration, "Like you mean it woman."

The comment earned him a bite on the cheek but the second kiss was well worth it. Teeva pressing herself fully against him as she allowed him to ravage her mouth, giving as good as she got.

~~~

When she woke the next morning the fire had burned low, down to glowing embers, and she knew it was only Ragnar behind her that kept her from shivering. Her eyes focused slowly, her head hurt from the ale, but she glanced around the hall. None of the others had stirred yet. So, carefully, she made to move but the strong arm around her flexed and held her tightly.

"Don't move." He whispered in her ear. She froze. "I'm comfortable." He breathed out a nearly silent chuckle as she relaxed against him, dropping a kiss to her shoulder as she settled back into him.

"The fire is going to die." She whispered over her shoulder. When he did not respond she opened her mouth to say it louder only to  have his hand cover her mouth.

Now wide awake, eyes blazing as he turned her to face him. She glared daggers at him.

Ragnars eyes were still half lidded when he mouthed the word, "Hush." Then he removed his hand from her mouth, replacing it with his lips for a fleeting moment before closing his eyes and settling back into the furs spread over the hard, wood floor.

Quieted, but still outraged she turned slightly and bit him hard on the shoulder, clamping down on the skin through the fabric on his tunic.

His eyes shot open, his teeth gritted, bared as he let out a silent hiss at the pain. Ragnar dug his hand in her sleep mussed hair and pulled her face blush with his, whispering harshly, one word through still gritted teeth, "Vixen." Then he was shoving his tongue into her mouth and stealing any smart remarks she may have had before she could say them. Once she was thoroughly breathless he whispered to her, lips brushing the apple of her cheek. "My head hurts. Be quiet, lay down, and let me enjoy having you in my arms."

Her anger, fleeting as it was, dissipated and she dropped a feather light kiss to his lips. Letting out a long, content sigh as Ragnar smiled, closed his eyes, and brought her to lay her head on his chest. Soon finding herself dozing off to the solid, steady beat of his heart and the feeling of his rough fingers massaging her scalp where his hand was still buried in her hair.

~~~

It was a long journey to Dunholm. Many miles spent in the saddle and many nights sleeping on furs laid on the ground. It was worth it though when she topped the final ridge, and she saw it for the first time.

Ragnar had pulled his horse to a stop beside hers as she took it in.

It was bigger than she had imagined, an imposing fortress high on a hill, visible from miles away but impenetrable. Ragnar had told her the story of how they had taken it, how he had claimed his revenge on Kjartan. Teeva knew this stronghold was a source of pride for her husband, and now for her too.

With his usual, tight lipped but soft smile, Ragnar stepped his horse sideways. Moving until his leg was pressed against hers, the horses shoulders pushing together. He placed his right hand on the top of her horses rump and leaned into her space. Her hair brushing his temple as he spoke, "Well, what do you think? Does it suit you? What does Teeva, wife of Ragnar Ragnarsson say about her new home?"

Teeva smiled, turned her head just enough to press their foreheads together. "I will hold my judgement until I've seen the state of the inside."

Ragnar laughed loudly and stole a quick kiss. "We hurry on then."

As the gates swung open Ragnar once again came up close beside her, hand on her saddle and lips against her ear, "Welcome home."

~~~

"Have you night tired of me yet lord?" Teeva laughed, fighting to catch her breath.

Ragnar let out a sound, half groan half laugh. "If you want me to tire of you, you should stop making such pretty sounds while my cock is inside you." To prove his point he thrust into her, hard, moving her further up the bed with the motion, drawing one of those beautiful little gasps from her throat. "See, like that." He began to pick up his pace again, nearly snarling in pleasure as she clawed at the back of his thighs. Urging him forward. Her volume increasing with every snap of his hips.

He still lay on top of her, his cock softening and her fingers massaging the muscles in his back,  when they both heard footsteps on the steps outside their rooms. Ragnar growled in annoyance and buried his face in her neck. Choosing to ignore the coming intrusion, instead enjoying the heaving of Teevas chest beneath him and faint aftershocks of her fluttering cunt.

"Ragnar, if you love me, you will kill whoever is about to come to our door." Her fingers moved to the back of his neck and into the loose, disheveled blonde hair he had yet to pull back. As it was far too early to be out of bed.

The Dane chuckled and mouthed at her neck, groaning with the effort of pulling away from her, out of her. He paused, braced above her on solid, swordsman's arms and dropped his forehead to hers, "As my lady wishes."

The knock at the door surprised neither of them, they remained silent. Staring into each others eyes with matching, mischievous smirks. Then from outside, "Earl Ragnar?" was followed by another, louder knock.

Ragnar chuckled, soft puffs of air escaping his nose, and moved to kiss the ink at his wife's temple. A symbol to match his own. Then with more energy and more grace for  a man so large, and no longer so young, jumped from the bed grabbed his sword from it's belt striding across the room and  opened the door.

The younger Dane was surely shocked to see his chief opening the door sword in hand, naked, cock still half hard and nothing but  the scars and ink markings on his chest to cover him.

With a straight and serious face Ragnar spoke, "My wife has instructed me to kill whoever is on the other side of this door. This is your one chance to change my mind. Speak plain and fast." Ragnar heard Teeva behind him laughing quietly but his face remained hard.

"Forgive me sir, but Uhtred Ragnarson is riding to the gate."

With just a nod of his head Ragnar sent the boy away, his face breaking into a smile as he swung the door shut. Approaching his wife and their bed again, leaning is sword against the wall beside it. "This will be a good day."

"And why is that?" Teeva sat up in bed, pulling the furs around her against the winter cold, welcoming Ragnar into them as he came back to the bed.

Pushing her down to her back he kissed her, then kissed her throat, and her breast. "Because," he looked up from where he was pressing kisses over her belly, his large, rough hands cradling the small bump there, "My wife, the love of my soul is growing another strong, fair haired, green eyed, fearsome son in her belly." He crawled the length of her naked body to kiss her. And when he pulled away he was still smiling, "And today is the day my little brother finally comes back to be where he belongs"

~~~ The End ~~~

First time writing for this fandom but I already have a few ideas for other stories! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

[anjelicawrites]

The Winner Takes It All

Series masterlist

Chapter IX

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's storyline in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: Canon compliant violence, Aemond’s brothel experience, marital rape (not by Aemond), cunnilingus, p in v sex, outdoor sex.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair.

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

Days pass and you force yourself to keep yourself busy, working with the other women to prepare for winter. You wish you didn’t have to do this, to help your enemy, but your hands are tied, now that you're Aemond’s wife you have duties those women remind you of and you need the work to keep your mind away from the sticky subject of your last talk with Aemond and the fact he had thrown himself into battle, instead of facing you, as if you would even shame him for what happened, you, who had been raped countless times by your husband; you better than anyone know how that feels and you would never shame anyone for having been subjected to it.

The winning army returns at night, you know because you can hear the joyous songs from the soldiers and the breathing from the two dragons. You wait for Aemond to come back to your shared chambers, you even venture into the hall, where you can see your brother in law, but not your husband and down the kitchen, where there’s only the servants busy with work. You wonder where Aemond is while you climb the stairs to your bedchambers; when you arrive you notice Vhagar’s humongous shape out of the window and an idea forms in your head. Swiftly you grab your cloak and go downstairs using the rear staircase, exiting a secondary door to the courtyard and you head towards the gates. You are not wearing the hood, letting the cold wind play with your hair, until you arrive at the guards, who immediately stand tall and as far away from you as possible.

“Open the gates”

“Both the King and the Prince have forbidden us to do so”

“You know who I am. Open the gates”

“We can not dārilaros”

“Let’s put it this way. You can either do as I say, or I will climb the wall, I guess my husband will not be happy with me harming myself in the process, and I will”.

You can see the color drain from the men’s faces and you feel bad at putting them in such a tight spot, you don’t have another choice though.

The man who didn’t talk to you opens a small door in the huge gate.

“Dārilaros, you never passed through here”

“Of course. Thank you soldier”.

Swiftly you exit and take in the vast nothingness around you, soon there will be snow, you can smell it in the air, then you go to Vhagar, her big form cuddled on the ground.

Making sure she can hear you, you get closer to her and she half opens one of her big eyes, the slitted pupil on you, until you sit on a big rock, your arms around your bent knees. You’d expected Aemond to be here and don’t truly know what to do, now that you don’t find him.

“I’m not going to come any closer - you tell Vhagar, who keeps staring at you - I was wondering where your owner was”

“One doesn’t own dragons - Aemond’s voice makes you jump out of your skin - you can be their rider and nothing more”

“Well, I’ve learnt something new. Welcome back Aemond. Were you observing the beauty of the landscape?”

“I was checking our defenses” he answers, stiff as a board

“Yeah, right”.

Aemond eyes you and for the first time he realizes he doesn’t know how to read you and has never been able to, to tell the truth. Yes you are courageous and a survivor, you can be an exceptional sword - fighter if trained well, but he doesn’t truly know what thoughts hide behind your eyes, where you two stand, since the marriage and his confessions. He knew you wanted him, when you were just a prisoner, now? He has no idea and doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you think you will hide from me for the rest of our lives? - here he realizes, the first thrust, not unlike when you two spar - do you think so lowly of me Aemond?”.

“I haven’t been hiding” he says widening his stance, ready

“Yeah, right. You left for battle and didn’t come back to the fortress when everyone else did, right after you revealed to me your deepest secrets. I have to reiterate my question Aemond, do you think so lowly of me?”.

And here is the second thrust, the one he can barely parry.

“I don’t” he says after a pensive uhm

“Then give me a reason why I should accept you vanishing the way you did”

“Because I am a man, a soldier and I don’t have to tell you everywhere I go like a child should”

“Are you kidding me? - you stand up and angrily walk to him, until your faces are inches apart - don’t you dare talk to me like that, Aemond Targaryen, I am not your servant, you don’t address me like that!”.

You have so much fury in your heart, you feel like you could burn the whole Valyrian army to the ground.

“I shall address you the way I believe is best”

“No, you will not, I will not let you!”.

Out of nowhere your hands grab the leather of his vest, bringing him even closer to your form; you can smell his breath, the ale and meat there. Like a vise his hand snakes in your hair, to keep you there, where he can see the dance of emotions in your eyes, until you yank him closer and kiss him, tongue invading his mouth, your teeth biting the soft flesh of his lower lip, as his other hand plants on your tailbone to mold your form to his.

Hasty and angry your hands grab at his clothes until you are both naked, his body on the pile of wool and leather and you are straddling him, his erect cock nestled between your wet lower lips, your cunt sliding up and down fast and with intent, until a desperate sound of want escapes his lips and you grab his cock to impale yourself on it. There’s no gentleness in the way you slide downwards until he’s completely nestled inside of you and your hips touch, his hands grabbing your waist, yours on his chest to balance yourself. You hadn’t had him in a long time, your cunt reeling from the way he splits you in two, owns every crevice of your body; you don’t care, riding him hard and fast, his fingers leaving marks on your waist until you come, wailing your pleasure to the stars. Swiftly Aemond turns your bodies, his still erect cock inside of you, one hand on your left leg to curl it around his waist, the other to pin the right one on the ground, to pound mindlessly inside of you, having missed the silk of your hole, your nails scorching his back and the merciless way your muscles curl around his manhood until he comes with a shout, ropes and ropes of come staining your insides, triggering another orgasm.

He is still cradled against your body, your hands caressing his sweaty back, both your breaths short and broken.

“I’m sorry” he says, trying to disentangle himself and you not letting him, your arms around his torso

“Don’t be”

“You deserve better than this” “Did you hear me complain?”

“No. Still, you deserve better”

“Then show me - you say - show me what you believe I deserve”.

Still incredulous that you haven’t rejected him yet, Aemond gently dresses you and takes your hand to guide you back to the gates. If the guards have heard your coupling, they say nothing, keeping their eyes trained forward as you and Aemond walk between them.

Once you two are back into your quarters, he commands the servants to draw a bath and to rekindle the fire, until both the bedroom and the bathing rooms are warm and cozy. Once you two are alone again, he undresses you and himself and helps you inside the tub and then he sits behind you, long legs bracketing your body. You can hear the crackle of the fire and the howling of the wind, Aemond’s breath lulling you into calmness.

“Is this the reason you tried to get yourself killed in battle, Aemond? I’ve heard what people have been saying: that you were careless in your pursuit of your enemies, not being careful, Vhagar being the only reason you are still alive. - You say, tangling your fingers with his, feeling the way he stiffens behind you - I know that shame, Aemond I knew it since the bedding ceremony, and after, when he turned me on my front, deaf to my begging and every single time he took me. He never asked if I wanted him, he was never gentle with me, I had always known only his violence and his fists. Even if the world were to shame you, I would never, because I know what that feels like”.

Behind you, Aemond feels like stone, not a muscle twitching, his breath coming in and out in forced calmness; he doesn’t know what to say, how to counter your gentleness and understanding.

“You will bear the children of the Kinslayer, of someone who wasn’t man enough to defend himself”

“I’d rather have your offspring, legitimate or bastards, Kinslayer blood in their veins or not, than bear him one. - you turn to face him, his eye not meeting yours - We can’t always fight back, the only thing we can do is realize that it wasn’t our fault, that we did all we could”

“I don’t deserve you - he says and you can feel the trembling of his muscles when you cup his face - once this war is over, if you want I will dissolve this marriage”

“I don’t want you to do that and you do deserve me. You deserve someone who will keep you right and stand by your side”.

He stares at you as if it’s the first time he’s seen you, could he possibly hope that you feel the way he does? He doesn’t dare, but your eyes are sincere, he can see no contempt, nor deception, just the crystal of your honesty.

“I begged the Gods to kill him and they didn’t answer, I prayed I wouldn't bear him a child and they granted me my wish, barring my womb to his seed but, if I were to carry your child, I would be blessed beyond belief. None of our ancestors gained their power without blood on their hands, family’s blood and enemies’ alike. We fancy ourselves better than our forefathers, while we commit worse crimes at the same time. None of us is free from the sin of kinslaying”

“That would seal your fate”

“That happened when I married you. I will not lie to you, I wish the North to remain free, even if that means death or banishment for me. This is my home and I don’t want it invaded, but I will be true to you and accept whatever fate the Gods have intended for my people”.

Aemond lets everything sink in, realizing he can’t ask for anything more from you, that this is the biggest gift you could even bestow him. With shaking hands he cups your face to kiss you gently, his tongue shy in your mouth, his whole body fighting the urge to shower you with all his passion and need. When your lips separate, your hands are grabbing his hair to keep him as close to yourself as possible.

“Make love to me, Aemond. Gentle and slow”

“Yes - he says, breathless, cock already hard for you - for as long as you’ll have me”.

There’s water everywhere when he helps you out of the tub and then carries you to the bed, your bodies warmed by the thick towels the servants have left near the fire. You let him take the lead, shaky hands drying your body, his tongue gently playing with yours, while you card your fingers through his long hair and massage his scalp to keep him as close to yourself as possible. Tenderness, there’s only tenderness in his touch when he lies you on the bed, your head propped on the pillows and when he spreads your legs to look at your center. You can see the desire in his eye and cannot find in your heart to feel sorry for being wet and ready for his taking, on the contrary, you adjust your position to jut your hips slightly higher in the air, to beacon him closer and he doesn’t need to be asked twice, his hands grabbing your thighs near their crease to keep you were he wants you. He takes his time in eating you out, wicked tongue writing poems in High Valyrian against your clit, gentle lips sucking the hardened bud until your yelp and buck under him, deft fingers entering your loose hole to scissor you open as you grab his hair and rut against him like an animal, until you come, shameless screams of pleasure echoing in your chambers. He doesn’t stop, drunk on your taste he sneaks his tongue in, desperate to lick everything you can give him, and to have more. You try to wriggle away, him curling his fingers even tighter on your skin, sloppy kisses of want peppered on your burning skin, until you are ready again, hands pushing his face against your cunt, his tongue ready to fuck you like you deserve, until your legs kick against his back and he has to wait until he can start the cycle again.

You don’t know how long he eats you out, you are barely aware of the cotton under your sweaty body, of Aemond’s warm skin against yours, of the slickness slithering down your other hole, your mind drowned by the pleasure.

“Please” Aemond says, desperation in his voice

“Yes” you answer brokenly, incapable of saying or doing anything else.

You are so wet and loose around him, still your cunt clamps around his cock, hungry for him and he can’t truly move, just grind deep and fast against your body, his pubic bone against your overused clit, hands grabbing the cotton of the sheets, your tightness too much to bear when you come, dragging him with you, his come seeping out of your hole when he has to leave you, the massage of your muscles too much to bear.

“You should hate me” Aemond says, face hidden against the side of your neck

“I do, sometimes - you gently caress his sweaty back, trying to control your breathing - I loathe these circumstances, I wish for you to leave my people alone, but I can’t find in my heart to feel sorry about this, about us”.

Slowly he turns on his side, head propped on his hand.

“I wanted to marry you, when your father was looking for suitable suitors for you”

“He would have never accepted. That would have meant you people gaining a foot in our free country. Was that the reason you stole me away?”

“No - he answers, meeting your eyes - our spies told us that your former husband had bought you with the troops. It was easier than kidnapping you after a siege. I can’t say I was unhappy when the spies reported it; you bewitched me when I first saw your portrait years ago, I would have never put you in this difficult position, though”

“I know, none of us had another option”.

You curl against Aemond’s warm body, wondering if your other husband would have ever thought that this could happen; you don’t think he did. You knew he wanted to get rid of you, due to your incapability to bear him children, but had his hands tied by the power behind your house. It wouldn’t surprise him if he had let the Valyrian spies on the information that you were alone in the camp, knowing full well he wasn’t going to pay the ransom and imagining you would end up dead, because that’s what he would have done with a useless bounty. Aemond caring must have blindsided him, you being still alive has, without a doubt, put him in a tight spot with the other Lords and you wonder if Cregan Stark will do something about it, in the long run. You wish he doesn’t, if your other husband has to die, it must be by your hands and your hands only.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess

[julibf]

What are your thoughts on this??

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Look, Dany will have the same tragic ending in the books like she had in the show, and don't take me wrong, I will be dancing in my living room reading the chapter she finally dies, not because I hate the character, but because I hate her Stans. For years they bullied and harassed anyone who predicted that she was the final villain of the show, only for her to be the final villain of the show. Dany fans are gonna get what they deserve in the end.

But Daenerys is actually a very tragic character and you should be heartbroken by her story. In the very beginning of the story, we have Dany telling her brother that "she doesn't want to be his Queen, she wants to go home"... and home for Dany is not Westeros, is the House with the Red door, with lemons trees in the garden. Dany wanted to be a sailor when she was a child and travel the world in a ship, yet Viserys literally beats her down and screams at her that she is the blood of the dragon. You see, Westeros was aways Viserys dream, not Dany's and by the end of book 1, she puts aways her own dreams and will spend the rest of the story pursuing her brothers dreams. And let me tell you about pursuing someone's dreams for years, years and years. It will never taste sweet, not matter how many goals you achieve.

Go read the books again, Dany FIRST CHAPTER tells you that Dany was never free, she keeps telling the reader that a Dragon is not a slave, yet Dany IS A SLAVE of her dynasty. Because she is a true born Targaryen, she puts away her own dreams to pursue the Iron Throne, something that we know, we never will bring her joy.

On Daenerys first chapter she mentions that Khall Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear collars made of gold and voila, a few paragraphs later, when Dany is getting ready to be introduced to her groom, they make sure to put a Golden collar on her neck. Again, Dany is a slave of Vyserys dreams.

When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. The girl slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed the tiara in her hair, and slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists. Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

I bet you didn't notice that right? yeah, Dany fans never do.

But in concern of the videos you send me, yes, Jon and Sansa dream about taking back Winterfell, they don't dream of forcing the entire North into their knees. The Lords of the North bend the knee because they love the Starks. Oh and Sansa actually accepts when they claim Jon as King and not her a Queen, because unlike dany, Sansa respects the decision the Northern Lords made it. Dany is not dreaming about Dragonstone, she is dreaming of forcing the entire kingdom of Western into submission and the truth is that many in Westeros don't want her as a leader. Why is that Meeren should be free to choose their leaders, yet Westeros needs to accept Dany? of yeah, because you like Dany and you dislike Meereen's High Lords.

I am sorry you fell in love with such tragic character, good luck on your next fantasy novel.