#I didn’t even include horse medicine or rolling for dragon

[asimovsideburns]

Session summary time! It’s technically-Friday even for me so I’m cutting it a bit close BUT I haven’t gone to bed yet so it’s. Fine. That’s a different problem. This post will be scheduled for a reasonable time, at which point I will most likely be asleep.

Lucky session 13, here we go

I just opened up Foundry to check stuff and it looks like we only had four rolls the whole session, including the one that got rolled with real dice. It was definitely a shorter session but by GOD did we fill it with roleplay, which I will mostly summarize here because I unfortunately am unable to provide word for word transcriptions or recordings that would fully do justice to my brilliant players and it’s been a week so I’m a bit hazy on exact wording.

We pick up where we left off, Sennin surrendering and Nim rushing to him. Nim is angry, Nim is worried, Nim is allowing themself to experience emotion for the first time in a long time. Sennin is numb.

The party has questions. For both of them.

Shrimp needs to read this situation, read these people. Shrimp has -2 to insight. On a natural 20, our homebrew +3 rule brings that up to a 21, which means that Shrimp knows with absolute certainty that everything said for the rest of this conversation is said with the full belief of the speaker that what is said is true.

Nim fusses over Sennin, who responds with anger. Why are they worried about him now? Why do they care now, when they never did before? Now, when he has use to them, because they don’t love him, because they never loved him, and he never should have accepted their proposal, never should have let them use him to hide from whatever they were running from.

Wait hang on a second. Can we get a record scratch sound effect on that? Nim’s proposal? Uh, Nim didn’t propose, Sennin did. Their marriage was arranged for political reasons, a mutually beneficial partnership. What is he talking about?

While this is happening, Adva is holding Shrimp, and Mason comes over and takes her hand, a silent show of support as Adva looks away, fighting back tears.

We don’t have time to unpack of Nim’s marriage issues right now, though, because what we really need to address is this journal. The journal that Nim copied painstakingly by hand, which contains a record of their adventure so far, including the Falcon incident and the execution of Corwin by Chantry and Adva as Shrimp stood by.

Except, Nim explains, that none of them are mentioned by name. No personally identifiable information is present. The only person mentioned by name, with the blame thrown squarely at his feet, is the man who hired them, James Schaefer, who gave them no more instruction than to go and help people and keep his name out of it to avoid political fallout.

Because Nim believes that people have the right to know, and that they have the obligation to tell them. To act as a voice for those without a voice.

The people do know, Shrimp says, we rode back into town with Falcon’s victims’ remains and gave them a proper rest and the people know what happened!

The people here know, says Nim, but the people everywhere need to know. That’s my purpose, the thing I was raised to do.

Shrimp says, that’s insane.

The thing is, Mason says, that Corwin was just as guilty as Falcon! Adva said that—

Stop, Adva says. She needs to tell them something. She tells them that Corwin was innocent. That he had nothing to do with Falcon’s crimes. That she lied to them.

Nim argues, says that James is still the one at fault, that he out Adva on this path.

Shrimp drops Adva’s hand and leaves, walking to the shrine.

Mason sits on the ground, head clasped in her hands.

Adva leaves, too, back to their rooms. She finds a letter, left on the pillow. On the envelope, “Missed you at the Sending office, this came for you. —Joseph.”

The letter is from Chantry, arrived a few days after he was called back to the Port. It begins, Dear Adva, I hope you are doing well, and that things over there have calmed down somewhat. I hope Pell is alright, too. I asked around about Aalin, it continues, and James gave me some information to pass along.

The information is this: Aalin was assigned to a research expedition, top secret, no communication allowed. The expedition was searching for something, an incredible find. The expedition leader claimed to have found it. They dropped out of contact. Chantry is helping to coordinate search efforts right now.

While Aalin was safe, James held on to this information until he could be sure he could trust her, but now he feels that he cannot keep it from her any longer.

Adva leaves the letter on the bed and goes to the shrine, where Shrimp went after Adva’s confession.

They went to the altar, where they made their vow, where they did not make an offering, where they took a wooden bowl and shattered it and said these pieces are not something broken but something new, and I will take them with me.

There he found a mortar and pestle in his bags, and the coffee bean Adva gave her, and he ground it into a paste with the rain that still fell from the clear, cloudless sky. She coated her hand with the paste, and pressed it against the stone alcove of the altar that the mirror rests inside, leaving a mark and letting the rain wash away only as much as it would. As they turned away, they saw Adva standing at the entrance of the shrine.

I think I have to leave, Adva says.

I have to stay, Shrimp replies. I have work to do here. I want to know you, but I don’t know which of us it would break, and I can’t let it be me.

I think I’m already broken, Adva says.

Shrimp asks, where will you go?

Adva replies, home.

They embrace. As Shrimp presses their coffee-paste-coated hand into the base of Adva’s neck, they speak their final words to each other.

“I love you, Eyeless Cave Shrimp.”

“I love you, too, Adva Ezra.”

Adva leaves, and Shrimp doesn’t tell anyone. They know that, if they do, someone might stop her.

That night they sleep on the floor of their room, the room that they reconciled in, unable to sleep in the bed they shared.

Mason and Nim are at the edge of town, with Sennin. Nim wants nothing more than to sit there and stare into the forest. Mason is worried that if she lets all of her party members out of her sight, then this, the one good thing to happen to her in a long time, will fall apart. The three of them stay there until they finally return to the tavern and go to sleep.

In the morning, Mason passes by the door to Adva and Shrimp’s room and sends a message cantrip to Adva.

On a 21 arcana check, a few thoughts pass through her head. That she can hear her own words, which means that the spell has failed. That the door can’t be blocking the spell like she thinks at first, because there’s a crack at the bottom it can pass through. That the range of the spell is 120 feet, which means it should reach anywhere in the building. Which means that Adva isn’t in the building.

She knocks on the door. Shrimp, do you know where Adva is?

We need to talk, says Shrimp. Everybody.

And that’s where we end our session.

[junqkook]

— THE YOUNG WOLF (m.)

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; game of thrones au, angst, smut words; 23,003 rating; explicit

— synopsis; he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

contents; stark jungkook, arranged marriage, (kind of) forced wedding, war, graphic depictions of violence, blood, murder (massacre, really), betrayal, manipulation, character deaths (minor and major), lovers to enemies to lovers, mutual pining (lots of pining), grief, loss, depression, trauma, reader’s dad slaps her once, infertility, slight dubcon if you squint (sort of but not really), alternating pov, virgin reader, jungkook’s got a big dick, very slight virgin kink, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe!), breath play, masochism, some sadism, dom jungkook, manhandling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, fingering, dirty talk, possessiveness, riding.

— notes; this is based on a song of ice and fire by george r.r. martin (aka game of thrones). includes major spoilers for the series, however previous knowledge of game of thrones is not needed to understand the fic. please read the contents carefully before proceeding. also i’m so sorry this is so long, i couldn’t shut up.

the young wolf. the dragonrider. vipers in the sand. every rose has thorns. as good as gold. blood of the dragon. the king who knelt.        ↳ series masterlist.

JUNGKOOK

His eyes scanned the parchment, the dried ink settling his heart into his throat. He looked up at his mother and the maester, their worried eyes trained on him as he took only seconds to make a decision.

“Call the banners,” he said, voice gruff.

“All of them?” his mother asked quietly while the maester watched on.

“All of them.” Jungkook’s tone left no room for argument, his eyes cold as ice. “They all swore oaths to defend my father. Let us see now what their words are worth.”

The maester nodded his head and left the room as quickly as his old bones could carry him, the rings on the chains dangling off his shoulders signifying the many subjects he had mastered clanking with each step he took. Jungkook shut his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers as the words on the small scroll bounced around his head.

“Are you sure about this?” his mother asked him, coming to stand by his side and rest a hand on his shoulder.

Jungkook sighed and stood straighter before looking down at his mother. “The new king has labeled my father a traitor and keeps him in chains. This message is a royal summons that I cannot ignore.” He looked away from her dark eyes, clenching the parchment in his fist. “If he wants us to come south, we will. But we will bring an army of Northmen with us.”

His mother pursed her lips and nodded slowly, letting her hand fall away from his shoulder. “Whatever your decision, I will stand behind you.”

Jungkook smiled briefly at her. “If it’s a war the king wants, it’s a war he’ll get.”

YOU

“When will we arrive?” you asked your father, the horses trotting along the Kingsroad leisurely.

Your father, an older man with a gruff exterior and experience with war, grunted and shrugged a shoulder. “Your brother rode ahead of us. It shouldn’t be too much longer until we reach the Jeon boy.” You stayed quiet, letting your horse follow your father’s the rest of the way.

By the time you reached the camp, night had fallen and darkened the skies. Torches had been lit around the tents and along the way. Many men wandered around the grounds, chatting with their fellow Northmen. You turned forward again just in time to see your father unmount his horse and leave it to a squire from your household. You quickly followed suit, sliding off the saddle and handing the reins to the same boy, only a handful of years younger than you.

You knew your father was headed off to see the son of Lord Jeon, Warden of the North, and that he wouldn’t want you coming along. So you stayed behind, slinking in the shadows away from the torches, keeping a careful eye on your father until he reached a tent and ducked in through the flap, two men guarding it and prohibiting anyone else from entering.

You cursed under your breath and attempted to make your way to the side, but you could see one of the guards eyeing you suspiciously, thwarting your plan to eavesdrop on the lords inside. But it didn’t take long for your father to come out of the tent, a younger man right behind him.

When your father saw you, a sheepish smile creeping onto your lips, he rolled his eyes. He walked a few steps away from the tent, talking quietly to the man beside him, and waved you over. You hurried forward, stepping into place beside your father as he cleared his throat.

“My Lord,” he started, gesturing to you. “This is my eldest daughter.” You bowed your head slightly and peeked up at the man through your eyelashes, surprised to find him still looking at you and your heart leapt into your throat. Your father called your name again and then dropped his hand. “This is Lord Jeon’s eldest son of House Stark.”

“My Lord,” you said quietly, keeping your head bowed.

“It is good to meet you, my Lady,” he said kindly, bowing his own head. “My name is Jungkook.” The last part he murmured quietly, as if in an attempt to ease your nerves. It was just loud enough that you knew your father had heard him and your cheeks felt hot when Jungkook continued to watch you even after you had straightened, his eyes holding yours for a few moments that felt like an eternity.

The young lord then moved his eyes to your father, tilting his head respectfully before walking away. Your own eyes followed him, watching every step that he took farther and farther away from you. You snapped out of your daze when your father rested a heavy hand on your shoulder and drew your attention.

He had a strange look on his face, his lips twitching up briefly. “Let’s go find your brother.” You smiled and agreed, pausing just as he began to walk forward. Unable to resist the urge, you pivoted to look behind you for a few seconds before going after your father.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, focused on wrapping the bandage around the man’s leg and keeping it tight to stop the bleeding from worsening. The battle had been a success for Lord Jungkook and the North, as evidenced by the aftermath you now stood in. You were tending to the injured on the field, and you had lost count how many you had attempted to help.

Once you were done, you nodded to the man sitting to the side, signaling for him to take his friend elsewhere. You stood up and stretched your aching muscles for a few moments. A hand came down on your shoulder and you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in a startled gasp.

Your father was giving you a hard look, his bearded face covered in dirt and blood. You swallowed, but you didn’t have the chance to say anything.

“Go on,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of one of the tents. “Lord Jeon’s son is waiting for you.”

You turned to look at the tent he was referring to and bit your lip as you left him to walk over to the tent, your supplies and medicine still in the bag hanging at your hip. Once there, you ducked slightly as you shifted the flap to the side. Entering, you made eye contact with your Lord immediately.

He gave you a brief smile, seated on the edge of the table. You could see blood dripping down his fingers, but the fabric covering his arm was too dark to spot where his injury was.

“My Lord,” you greeted, bowing your head slightly.

“My Lady,” he returned, eyes still focused on you. “You did not need to come. The wound is nothing more than a scratch.”

Your eyebrows went up as you got closer, standing only a few feet away from him. “I mean no offense, my Lord,” you said playfully. “But mere scratches do not bleed as much as yours seems to.”

Lord Jungkook chuckled quietly, the sound causing a flutter in your belly. “My scratches seem to be special, then,” he replied, tone just as teasing as yours.

Unable to hide your smile, you ducked your head so he wouldn’t see instead. You peeked up at him and made to reach for his arm. “May I?” you asked. He nodded his head and held out his hand, which you took in your own. His skin was warm and sticky with blood, but you stopped your thoughts before they could spiral out of line. Pushing his sleeve up, you didn’t fail to notice the way he hissed quietly, his so-called scratch coming into view quickly.

“Is this scratch too big to be mended?” he asked you quietly as you examined it.

You shook your head, running your hands up his arm to the slice on his forearm. “No,” you told him. “But you will need this stitched up. I’m afraid this scratch is too deep to simply bandage up and send you on your way.”

“Stitch it up for me, then,” he commanded, though his voice was soft. When you looked up from his arm, startled, his dark eyes were just as soft.

“Alright.” You swallowed nervously and looked around, spotting a few chairs around the table he was sitting on. “Would you mind moving to the chairs, my Lord? It might take some time.”

He stood without a word and you stumbled back to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. Lord Jungkook dragged two chairs over to where you stood, placing them so they faced each other, and then sat down in one. He raised his eyebrows at you until you sat in the chair opposite him. You looked down to sift through your bag, taking out a thread and needle that had already been prepared from others that had needed stitching as well.

Once you had what you needed, cleaning the needle with a bottle of alcohol that was on the table, you reached out and took his hand in yours gently. You ran your hand up his arm and bent over it, looking up at him with a wince.

“This will hurt, my Lord,” you warned quietly. “Would you like for me to get you some Milk of the Poppy?”

Your Lord shook his head. “No, that’s alright. It is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Excuse me for being adamant, my Lord,” you continued, looking at him properly now. “This is no time to let pride take hold.”

His lips twitched up into a smile. “Do your work, my Lady,” Jungkook replied. “If the pain is too great, I will scream.”

You huffed, turning back down to his wound. You bit your lip and started to sew it shut, wincing every time his muscles tensed under your hands. You were grateful that you had the stomach for it, or you would have to clean the remnants of your pitiful lunch off the floor. You made quick work of the wound, surprised that he did not let out a sound other than a grunt every time the needle pierced his skin and tugged it.

“There,” you mumbled, tying the thread and slipping a knife from your bag to cut the excess.

“Will you bandage it now?” Jungkook asked, his chest moving up and down slowly. There were beads of sweat running down his face.

“Yes,” you replied. You took out the bandaging and started to wrap it around his arm, taking great care not to tighten it so much that it would hurt him. As you worked, you brought up something that had been nagging at the back of your mind. “I heard that you captured the kingslayer during the battle.”

There was no reply for a few moments, the only sounds the faint ones of the men outside the tent. “You have quite the open ears,” he finally said amusedly.

“So I’m right?”

Lord Jungkook chuckled. “You are. He is bound and being held as prisoner.”

You finished bandaging his arm. “Will you use him to bargain for Lord Jeon’s release?”

Looking up, you met his eyes easily. “You’re quite clever, you know,” he said. “I will use him to bargain, yes. The new king will want his uncle back safe.” You gnawed on your bottom lip, your question on the tip of your tongue and just barely being held back by your teeth. Your Lord noticed and sat back in his chair across from you, resting his injured arm across his lap. “Go on, ask whatever it is you’d like.”

Your eyes nearly sparkled as you met his, sitting up straight in your chair. “How did you capture the kingslayer? I heard there was some distraction—”

“Yes, I sent two thousand men down the Kingsroad,” Jungkook explained. “They distracted the kingslayer’s larger forces, led by his father, while I took the rest of my men to the Twins. We ambushed the kingslayer there and he fell into our trap easily. The man has gotten too comfortable in his abilities.”

You hummed. “Very strategic, my Lord. How many men did you lose? I helped where I could with the injured, and there were quite a lot of them.”

Jungkook’s face shut down and he leaned forward again. “Has your father spoken to you?” he asked quietly. When you shook your head, he reached out hesitantly and then rested his hand on your knee. It felt warm through the fabric of your dress. “We lost those two thousand men, and another few hundred during the ambush.” Your heart started to beat harder in your chest. “Among them was your brother.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. He looked sympathetic, his hand on your knee heavy and distracting. You stood from the chair, dislodging his comforting grasp, and he jerked back to avoid your skirts in his face. “No, you’re wrong, you—you must have—”

Lord Jungkook rose as well, standing before you with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, reaching out and taking your shoulders in his hands. He pulled you closer to him, voice softening when he could feel the trembling in your limbs. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him, almost unseeing. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. “No,” you whispered to yourself, your tears starting to slip out. “He can’t—he can’t be dead, he can’t be—”

The Lord pulled you in, crushing you to his chest. You stared at a point on the tent over his shoulder as his hand ran down your back, his cheek pressed to your hair, but still warm. The furs around him were tickling your skin and his breath was warm on your neck when he spoke, though you had no idea what he was saying.

It didn’t feel real, what he’d just told you, the way his arms felt around you, the whispers against your skin. Nothing felt right. You wanted to push him away, wanted to forget what he had said, wanted to go back in time to before the battle—but you couldn’t. And you knew the only thing holding you up was his embrace.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when your senses came back to you, but Lord Jungkook’s arms remained firm around your body, and his head had not moved from its place against your hair. His hand was rubbing your back comfortingly and you felt heat warm your cheeks.

Lifting your hands to his chest, you pushed him back lightly. He looked at you curiously when he moved only inches away from you, hands still pressed warm against your back. “My Lord,” you whispered, cheeks flushed with heat and voice thick. “I—”

“My Lord!”

You startled, turning to look at the entrance of the tent, where a squire had just come in. The young boy was staring at the two of you, locked in an inappropriate embrace, his eyes darting between you. Lord Jungkook cleared his throat and dropped his arms, turning to face the squire, and you inched back slightly, lowering your head—though you knew the boy must have seen you and known who you were. You only hoped he would not spread rumors of what he thought you must have been doing.

“Yes?” he replied. “What is it?”

“The—the kingslayer, my Lord,” the boy stuttered. “He is bound and awaits your audience.”

“Yes, I will be there immediately,” Lord Jungkook said. “You go ahead. I have… things to attend to.”

The young squire’s eyes landed on you for a brief moment before he bowed and took his leave. You were gnawing on your bottom lip hard enough that it was painful. The fleeting moment had passed, taking along with it the ease with which you had forgotten to grieve. With the prying eyes of the squire gone, you returned to feeling like there was an ache in your chest, a gaping hole that felt like your brother’s sweet smile; he had never been cruel, a man too young and too kind for war.

“My Lady,” Lord Jungkook started, reaching out and gently taking your hand. “I am deeply sorry for your loss. If there is anything I can do to ease your pain—” He paused, meeting your eyes intensely. His grip was firm on your hand and his eyes were soft as he watched you. “Please let me know.”

You bowed your head, not knowing what to say to him. The loss still didn’t feel completely real and you weren’t sure if it ever would. You had a feeling that you would still wait every day for your brother to walk into your line of sight, laughing and ready to tell you everything he had done.

Barely able to muster up a smile, you squeezed his hand in return. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “I will keep that in mind.”

He seemed pleased, a smile breaking out on his face. “I must take my leave now, forgive me. But I thank you for your assistance tonight.” You nodded and he turned away, grabbing his sheathed sword and belt before he left the tent. You met his eyes again when he quickly looked over his shoulder at you, smiling sadly and walking out from under the tent flap.

You followed suit after a few minutes and numbly walked back to your father’s tent, where you found him sitting in a heavy silence. Your knees felt weak and you fell to the ground, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Your father barely looked over at you, his gaze burning a hole into the grass in front of him. You fisted your hands in your skirts until your fingers started to hurt.

And you wept.

JUNGKOOK

He walked with heavy footsteps toward the cell his men had made for the kingslayer. He’d given up part of his freedom to get his hands on the man and succeeded. But his chest was heavy with the sacrifice his men had given for it to be a possibility.

Walking into the cell, he laid his eyes on the man, whose blonde hair was sticking to his face with sweat and dirt. With a wolfish smile, the bound man opened his mouth. “My Lord,” the kingslayer greeted mockingly. “Why haven’t you sent me to one of your bannermen’s castles? Instead you drag me with you to your camp; I dare say you’ve grown fond of me.”

Jungkook had to hold back his sneer, tilting his head to the side instead. He observed the kingslayer’s bonds, his seated position leaving him vulnerable. His hands were bound behind his back to a pole his men had dug into the ground. Seeing him in a similar to position to how he presumed his father to be, all the way in King’s Landing, gave Jungkook a twisted sense of pleasure.

“If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight. My bannermen would receive a raven with a message: ‘Release my son and be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your House will be destroyed root and stem.’”

The kingslayer raised a brow at his words. “You don’t trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?”

Jungkook held back a scoff, though his lips did twitch upwards for a second. “Oh, I trust them with my life.” He paused and took in the sight of the Lannister man again, feeling powerful as he towered over him. “Just not with yours.”

The kingslayer chuckled humorlessly. “Smart boy.” Jungkook couldn’t stop the twitch at his words. Of course, the kingslayer took notice of it and tilted his head, his dirty hair falling over his face. “What’s the matter? Don’t like being called ‘boy?’ You feel insulted?”

There was a low growl from behind the cage in the darkness. Jungkook could see the way his body tensed, head shifting to try to get a look behind the cage to no avail. Footsteps echoed in the night, the rumble of the growl low and the short pants sending a chill through the air.

Jungkook’s voice was just as low when he spoke. “You insult yourself, Kingslayer.” The man’s eyes darted to the opposite side as the beast came into view outside the bars, circling it slowly. “You’ve been defeated by a boy. You’re held captive by a boy.” Jungkook paused, a small smile playing at his lips when the kingslayer’s wide eyes remained solely focused on the grey and white fur of the large direwolf as it came to a stop beside Jungkook. “Perhaps you’ll be killed by a boy.”

The direwolf, on all four legs, was nearly half the size of Jungkook himself. He was sure if the beast stood on its hind legs, it would be taller than himself. The pleasure twisting inside of his belly grew stronger at the look on the kingslayer’s face, stiff and fearful. Jungkook slowly brought a hand to rest on the back of his companion, fisting the fur gently in his gloved fingers.

“I’m sending your cousin down to King’s Landing with my peace terms,” Jungkook informed him, comforted by the presence of his wolf.

The kingslayer swallowed roughly and glanced up at him before returning his eyes to the terrifying beast. “If you think my father will negotiate with you, you don’t know him very well.”

“No. But he’s starting to know me.”

The man scoffed. “A few victories don’t make you a conquerer.”

“No,” Jungkook mused, smirking and releasing his loose hold on his direwolf. “But it’s better than a few defeats.” The wolf’s growling grew louder, until it almost drowned out the sound of his voice. “Sleep well, Kingslayer.”

Turning swiftly, Jungkook left the cage and allowed his smile to linger at the sound of his direwolf’s snapping teeth and the rattling of the kingslayer’s chains.

As he walked through the camp, he nodded his head respectfully at the people who greeted him. His eyes raked across the fields, looking for you in particular even though he knew he shouldn’t. You were probably still reeling from the news he’d given you earlier. Jungkook couldn’t quite halt the thoughts of how you had felt in his arms and against his body, like you belonged there, and he couldn’t quite hate himself for it either.

As if the gods had smiled down on him, he bumped right into you while scanning the people for your face. Jungkook’s hands found your arms, steadying you on the ground after the impact. You let out a soft noise and backed away, flustered. You looked adorable, standing in front of him, barely illuminated except for the light of the torches.

“My Lord,” you greeted him, bowing your head. When you looked back up, he could see how red your eyes were and how puffy your face was. His chest tightened with sympathy for a moment and he had to shove his tongue against the inside of his cheek when he started thinking about how beautiful you still looked.

“My Lady,” he replied. “How are you?”

You smiled briefly at him. Jungkook wanted to crush you to his chest right then and there. He clenched his fingers tightly into fists. “I’m well. How is your arm, my Lord?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, taking the sight of you in silently. “My scratch is doing fine, thanks to you.” You chuckled quietly and he couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sound. “I am in your debt, my Lady.”

You shook your head quickly, lifting your hands up in front of your chest. “No, my Lord, there is no debt to be paid. It was my duty.”

“Still, I did not wish to trouble you—”

“It was no trouble at all, really!” you interrupted. “I was happy to do it, my Lord.”

“Very well, then.” Jungkook’s smile softened. “Goodnight, my Lady. I hope you are able to rest tonight.”

Your small smile fell and your eyes fell downward, toward the grass. “Yes, thank you, my Lord. Goodnight.”

As you walked off without another word, Jungkook kicked himself internally. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but he wished he could comfort you. He knew there was no way to comfort you, it wouldn’t be proper. Especially not when—

No. It was best not to dwell too much on such thoughts. Jungkook sighed heavily and turned back toward his tent, his thoughts torn between you and the strategies he still needed to go over.

YOU

Awoken by shouts and the clinging of armor, you sat up straight in your cot. Too drowsy to really focus on anything that was being said, you hurried to get out of bed and start to get dressed, haphazardly fixing your hair as you did. When you deemed yourself presentable enough, you raised the flap of the tent and squinted at the bright sunlight, heart pounding.

The men were running back and forth, voices loud and barely comprehendible. But you did manage to catch a snippet of what was being said as you walked a little closer, avoiding the soldiers as they frantically ran about.

“The Kingslayer! He’s escaped!”

“Where is Lord Jeon?!”

“How did he escape?”

Mouth falling open in shock, you hurried to find your father and Lord, even if you knew it wasn’t truly your place to intrude on either. Logical thoughts, however, were not your biggest concern at the moment. You found them in Lord Jeon’s tent, slipping inside to the raised voices of everyone inside. They barely noticed you.

“What have you done?” Lord Jeon’s voice growled. You heard him before you saw him, stood almost at the opposite end of the tent, his face twisted with rage. Before him was his mother, her hair pinned back as it usually was. In front of you were the many lords, your father included. You stayed silent, standing behind them and near the entrance, too afraid of drawing attention in the tense atmosphere.

“Jungkook, please,” his mother pleaded, voice gentle. “It was for—“

“I don’t care what it was for!” he interrupted, throwing his arms out in frustration. “What were you thinking? He was our prisoner!”

“I did it to save your father!” she screamed back, desperation filling her voice. “He swore to return him to us! That’s what we’re fighting for—“

“He’s an oathbreaker! Have you lost your mind? Do you know what I had to do to secure his capture?” Lord Jeon stopped for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose between gloved fingers. “Two thousand men lost their lives so we could capture the kingslayer. You had better pray to all the gods that he does not break his word and returns my father safely.” His voice was dangerously low and he turned to face away from his mother, as if he couldn’t stomach to look at her. “All of you, leave.”

You quickly stepped out, keeping yourself at the side of the tent’s entrance before the men could begin to shuffle out. Once they had all exited, you saw his mother being led out of the tent with more than one guard. Biting your lip, you waited a few more moments before gathering the courage to step inside the tent, eyes finding Lord Jeon’s hunched frame over the table.

“My Lord?” you asked hesitantly, lingering by the entrance of the tent.

His head shot up, pleasant surprise etched into his features. He smiled at you kindly and you almost couldn’t believe he had just been yelling at his mother a few moments ago. Lord Jeon said your name softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering how you were,” you said.

“That’s very kind of you,” he replied, walking around the table and gesturing at the chairs. You followed suit and sat in the chair beside the one he took, fidgeting with your hands. “We’ll be moving camp today, to Riverrun.”

You nodded your head. “I will be sure to have all of my things ready.” You paused, unsure exactly how to bring the topic up. “I’m sorry that you lost the prisoner, my Lord,” you eventually settled on, voice barely above a whisper.

Lord Jeon looked tense, but he reached out hesitantly and rested his hand over yours. You clenched your hands tighter in your lap so that you wouldn’t do something mad, like hold his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. His hand was hot on top of yours despite the cold weather. “During times of war, we must prepare for losses. Even without the Kingslayer, the North will not bend to the will of the boy-king in the South.”

Silence fell upon the two of you, though you could faintly hear the commotion of the men outside of the tent. The light inside was dim, casting shadows across Lord Jeon’s face as he watched you, his hand still resting atop yours. You could feel your body heating up from his touch, gnawing on your lip as you considered what you should do. You turned your hand under his, clasping his fingers in yours, and looked directly at him, meeting his wide eyes.

You leant forward, eyes darting down to his lips. You knew it wasn’t proper, that you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you had wanted to. All was quiet save for your breaths, steady and deep as you moved closer and closer, fingers tight around his. You could feel his breath on your lips, so close that your noses almost touched, when his other hand came to grasp your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning back and away from you. Your heart thudded in your ears, eyes wide as you watched him move. His hand slipped out of yours and he removed his other from your shoulder. His lips were drawn into a thin line.

“No, I—“ you cut yourself off to take in a shaky breath, standing from the chair and lowering your head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, my Lord, I shouldn’t have presumed—“

Lord Jeon stood as well, stepping closer to you. When you swallowed roughly and took half a step back, he seemed to come to his senses and halted sheepishly. “No, it’s not that,” he interrupted you. He sighed heavily, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m betrothed to a Frey girl,” he finally said, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Oh,” was all you said in return.

Before you could truly process what that meant, your lord continued. “We had to pass through the Twins to get to the Kingslayer’s forces,” he explained. “There had to be negotiations made with Lord Frey. His condition to let us through was for me to marry one of his daughters.”

You finally looked at him, clasping your hands in front of you tightly. “Oh,” you repeated.

“I—“ Lord Jeon stopped himself, gazing back at you almost desperately. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t get the words out—or wouldn’t.

You steeled yourself and took in a breath. “Regardless, please forgive me, my Lord. It was not proper nor my place to do such a thing.”

Lord Jeon’s face softened as he looked at you. “There is nothing to forgive, my Lady.”

You bowed your head slightly. “I wish you good fortune with your bride-to-be,” you continued, almost choking on the words. “Please excuse me.” You heard him faintly murmur what you assumed to be a dismissal and you took your leave, walking straight out of the tent and back towards your own without looking back.

Your name was called by a soldier, catching your attention as you finished cleaning the wounds of the young boy in front of you. You turned to meet his gaze, blinking up at him curiously from your crouched position.

“Lord Jeon wants to see you,” the man said, a smirk on his face.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, simply nodding your head and finishing up with the patient you were currently bandaging up. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Lord Jeon in days, too afraid and embarrassed to go looking for him again—not after what he’d told you the last time. Your face felt hot as you recalled the memory, chiding yourself for acting so impulsively and improperly. What had you been thinking, trying to kiss your lord?

You found him in his usual tent, alone. You swallowed nervously as you walked in with your bag of medical supplies. The last time you had been alone with him had been disastrous. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hello,” he said easily.

“Hello,” you replied, your voice quiet. You walked over to the chair he was seated at, the map and plans for his next move in front of him on the table. His attention, however, was focused solely on you. “You wanted to see me, my Lord?”

“Yes,” he responded without missing a beat. “I seem to have gotten another scratch.”

“I see.”

He tilted his head to the side, almost playfully. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to treat me, my Lady?”

You ducked your head, biting back a smile. “Of course not, my Lord. Where is the scratch?”

Lord Jeon chuckled, shifting to put his leg out closer to you. When you took a closer look, you could see that there was blood pooling over his knee and his pants were torn higher up along his thigh. You swallowed past the quickly forming lump in your throat, glancing up at him briefly as you crouched down between his legs. The air suddenly tensed, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to inhale, and you wondered if it was just you who felt like this.

You pulled out a pair of scissors from your bag after you set it beside you, fixing your position so you were comfortably on your knees. You set a hand on his thigh, trying not to think about how firm the muscles felt under your palm. You dragged your fingers along the tear in the fabric, pulling it up so you could cut away from the wound. You had to force your breathing to remain steady as you got to work cleaning the large gash on his thigh.

“We managed to push back the Lannister army,” Lord Jeon said quietly, cutting through the tense atmosphere while you worked. “We took two Lannister boys as well.”

You perked up slightly. “Have you caught the Kingslayer yet?”

He sighed. “No, he was nowhere to be found, the coward. And to think they call him the greatest swordsman alive.”

“He’s no match for you, I’m sure,” you quipped.

Lord Jeon chuckled. “Of course not.”

After another brief silence, you grabbed your thread and needle to stitch his wound, just as you had before. “This will hurt, my Lord.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully and started to stitch, sticking the needle through the skin at the end of the wound. “Who are the Lannister boys you captured?”

“Distant cousins of the Kingslayer,” he said, though his voice was pitched low. “They’re just boys.”

“How old are they?”

“Thirteen and eleven.”

Your eyes widened, but you continued to work on the wound as carefully as you could. “That’s very young.”

“Too young,” Lord Jeon replied.

A few more moments passed as you worked, your eyes never leaving his wound. “Why did you call for me, my Lord?” you finally asked, barely able to gather the courage to do it. “There are many nurses to treat the wounded.”

When he didn’t respond, you worried that you had overstepped, but then his gloved hand came to rest atop your head. You stopped your stitching and looked up at him in surprise, shocked to find his expression a mix between regret and tenderness. His thumb was gently stroking your hair, almost like a subconscious movement. “I trust you.” The hand on your head, even through the glove, felt unbelievably warm on your head and you couldn’t stop the shiver that shot through your spine. “And it wouldn’t do to have the others see their lord wounded.”

You wanted to kiss him.

He was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. But when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. Perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. Perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. But war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

You swallowed, opening your mouth to say something, when Lady Jeon rushed in with a few guards, a paper clutched tightly in her fist. Your head snapped over to look at them, your position provocative from behind the table. Body flushing with heat, you moved away as far as you could without pulling the thread of the needle, and Lord Jeon quickly removed his hand from your head.

“What is it?” he asked after clearing his throat. He beckoned them over to the side of the table the two of you were on. They approached cautiously, but you could see the line of his mother’s shoulders relax when she was close enough to see that you were mending his wound.

“It’s your father,” she told him with a broken voice. “They’ve executed your father.”

There was silence in the tent and you looked up at Lord Jeon’s face, his pain and shock written all over it for everyone to see. He started to move, but you quickly pressed down on his thigh, catching his attention.

“My Lord,” you said. “You mustn’t move. The wound is not properly mended yet.” He looked down at you with stony eyes and you almost flinched away, but you ducked your head and worked to finish stitching his broken skin with your trembling fingers.

“What,” Lord Jeon began with a voice that sounded almost like that of a wolf’s growl, “happened?”

Lady Jeon dropped the parchment on the table in front of her son. You couldn’t see her face for she stood behind you, but you attempted to complete your work as quickly as you could. He picked the parchment up off the table and his eyes took in the words harshly.

“Treason?” Lord Jeon scoffed. “Father? He is no traitor. The new king fancies himself a man, labeling my father a traitor of the Seven Kingdoms and taking his head.” You barely recognized the edge in his voice, unlike you’d ever heard it before. “Guards, escort my mother back to her tent. We arrive in Riverrun tonight.”

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious—“ his mother started, but he silenced her quickly.

“You released my prisoner for the sake of my father’s safety,” he said bluntly. “Now he has been beheaded, his name smeared with the word ‘traitor,’ and the Kingslayer is probably drinking and whoring himself back in King’s Landing. You will be confined to your chambers indefinitely.” His voice dipped low, dangerous, and you had just barely managed to finish your stitching, tying the thread and cutting it with the scissors. “The only reason you’re still breathing for your treasonous acts is because you are my mother.”

Once the guards had escorted Lady Jeon out of the tent and toward her own, you shifted back a bit, your knees aching when you moved them. You opened your mouth to excuse yourself, sure that Lord Jeon would want to be alone, but before you could get to your feet or say a word, his arms had wrapped around you and pulled you in close.

Your face was crushed into the furs of his coat, his hands holding your crouched body as close as he could to his chest. He had pulled you in closer between his thighs, until the two of you were flush against one another. You didn’t know how to react, the needle and scissors still in your hands as you held them still over his thighs.

His fingers carded through your hair. You could feel him rest his head atop yours, breath fanning the strands. “Please stay,” he whispered into your hair. “Don’t go.”

Instead of replying, you released your tools to fall to the ground and wrapped your arms around his midsection, turning your face so that your cheek rested on his torso. He buried his face into your hair, clutching you tighter at your silent compliance. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could hear his own heart beating at a quick rhythm.

You stayed there, in that same position, for what felt like an eternity. You were just as reluctant to let go of him as he seemed to be of you, the only sounds filling the tent your mingling breaths and the quiet whimpers of a boy who had too heavy of a burden to carry.

Everyone was gathered for the victory feast, meat and fruits littering the tables set across the camp. It wouldn’t be long until the forces reached Riverrun. Night had fallen and you sat idly beside your tense father, eating silently even as the men around you started to debate which king they should pledge to fight alongside against the boy-king in the southern capitol. Your eyes kept flickering up from your plate of food to find Lord Jeon, who was seated at the middle table with his mother and a few other lords.

One of the many lords stood from his table, walking to the middle to continue the debate. “The course of action is clear! We should swear fealty to the Baratheon boy and march our forces South.”

Lord Jeon cut in, still seat at his table but turned to face the rest of the soldiers. “We cannot swear fealty to the Baratheon boy. He is not King.”

“My Lord,” another soldier spoke up. “Do you mean to pledge us to the boy-king? He put your father to death—“

“That doesn’t make the Baratheon king,” Lord Jeon argued. “He is the youngest brother of the late king. Just as my brothers cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me, he cannot be King of the Seven Kingdoms before his older brother.”

Lord Umber stood abruptly, interrupting all of the arguments. “My lords,” he started, walking leisurely until he was in the middle. His stance commanded the attention of everyone. “Here’s what I say to these two kings.” After a brief pause, he spat on the ground, drawing a few chuckles from the soldiers—and yourself included. You didn’t much care for either of these kings, as you would never be going South after this war was won—your place, and everyone else’s here, was in the North.

The lord continued, voice rising as he grew more passionate with every word. “The two of them mean nothing to me. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of war? Of the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong!” You found yourself laughing heartily alongside your father and the others, eyes falling on Lord Jeon briefly. There was a small smile on his face and you found your own dwindling at the sight. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to. And now the dragons are dead!”

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the now hushed group, and you could see heads nodding as he continued his speech.

Lord Umber drew his sword easily, turning his body and pointing the tip at Lord Jeon. “There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to.” The camp was completely silent, the only sounds the crackling of the fire. Lord Umber dropped to one knee, digging the very tip of his sword into the grass in front of him and holding the hilt tightly. “The King in the North!”

Your eyes were wide and your breath caught as you watched the scene unfold before you. Lord Jeon’s dark hair was swept handsomely across his forehead and his dark eyes were trained on the kneeling lord in front of him.

Another lord stood, this time from your table, and approached Lord Umber. “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle. And their iron chair, too!” He kneeled beside Lord Umber and in front of Lord Jeon, drawing his sword and digging it into the grass. “The King in the North!” he repeated loudly.

Lord Jeon stood from his place, looking down at the two men with something like awe in his expression. You knew you must have mirrored his look, but it was directed at him. As others rose to their feet, your father included, all drawing their swords and lifting them in the air, you looked around in astonishment.

“The King in the North!” they all shouted. “The King in the North!”

And standing amidst his people, all cheering for their new king, Jungkook appeared to you not as a boy taking his father’s role, but as a man worthy of the crown of his people.

Your breath felt labored, the blood rushing in your ears nearly drowning out the calls of everyone around you. You stayed seated, lips parted as the North gained a new king and its independence, its freedom, back. Your eyes couldn’t stray from your king’s form, tall and powerful among the lords rallied around him, and your chest was tight with a feeling you knew all too well and wished not to recognize.

You had been given your own chambers once the Northern forces had reached the Riverrun keep weeks ago. There had been another battle, one that you had witnessed crumbling from the moment King Jungkook’s uncle had gone off on his own instead of listening to the strategy the new king had told him. That argument had not been a pretty one, after all was done and the Lannister forces were forced to flee—he had wanted to trap the Lannister army between them, unable to retreat back to the South, but thanks to the insubordination they had been able to make a full retreat.

Walking down the hall, you made your way down the now familiar route to the king’s chambers. You were always discreet, but with a place this large and servants bustling about at all hours, it had only been a matter of time before rumors began to spread of the two of you.

You opened the door after you knocked, his voice signaling for you to enter. “My King,” you greeted with a small bow of your head. Once you had secured the door shut behind you, the king in the north beckoned you over to where he sat on the edge of the large bed.

“How many times must I remind you to call me Jungkook?” he asked.

“As many as you wish, my King,” you teased. Sitting beside him on the bed, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close. “How is it today?” you asked softly, lifting your own arms and embracing him back. You let one hand trail up to his hair, running your fingers through the dark strands.

He sighed into your neck and you had to suppress a shiver. “Better now that you’re here.”

“You really ought to let me give you some milk of the poppy,” you told him gently.

You could feel him shake his head against your shoulder. “The only thing I need to soothe me is to have you here, in my arms.” You didn’t respond, simply playing with his hair. This had become a nightly ritual for the two of you—your king summoned you to his chambers discreetly and you appeared, his request from the first night to just let him hold you until the tremors subsided still ringing true now weeks later. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin. “I know this is unfair of me to ask of you.”

You shook your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. You didn’t have the right to touch him like you were, to hold him as you were, but you wished for it to never end regardless. You knew that, eventually, you would have to hand him over to his betrothed, to a woman who was a stranger to him and to you; she would be the one wrapped up in his arms, clutching him to her breast and running her fingers through his hair. You selfishly prayed that day would never come.

“You can ask anything of me, Jungkook,” you whispered back, hugging him closer.

Neither of you said another word for the rest of the night, content with listening to the other’s calm breathing and the feel of your bodies pressed together in a sweet embrace. Once it was time, the two of you growing tired, Jungkook pulled away and lifted his hands to cup your face. His fingers brushed back your hair. You blinked blearily up at him, your arms slipping away from his body to rest on your lap.

“Go rest,” he said softly. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

You smiled at him, nodding your head, but he kept his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs trailed back and forth on your skin and he gazed at you for a long time, until your breathing started to deepen and your fingers started to shake. Finally, he released you from his gentle grasp, sitting back and watching as you gathered yourself and left his chambers as quietly as you could, just as he did every night.

The walk back to your own chambers was quiet, the rest of the castle fast asleep or outside on duty. Once you were curled up in your bed, sleep overtook you quickly. As you drifted off to the land of dreams, you thought you could almost still feel your king’s arms circling you.

You woke as early as you usually did, stretching and preparing for the day ahead of you. You knew you wouldn’t see Jungkook again until the night, as he was busy with his advisors and planning his next move against the Lannisters. You found your way to the kitchens, sneaking a few pieces of fruit and bread, dropping them in your bag.

Making your way down to the dungeons, the guard sighed and let you through the door easily; he had long given up arguing with you over it.

Two pairs of blue eyes met yours with excitement as the guard unlocked the cell and let you in. The two young boys smiled up at you easily, excited to see you. It broke your heart, how happy they seemed just to have another person come to them.

“Good morning, boys,” you greeted, digging through your bag. “I brought you some breakfast.” Their small hands took the food gratefully, quickly digging in to eat. Your chest twisted with something painful, watching them. “Did they bring you supper?”

Martyn, the older Lannister boy, shook his head. “No. One of the men said that Lannisters should learn what hunger really feels like.”

You bit your lip, brows furrowing at the bit of information. You stayed silent, watching the two young boys eat ravenously, and your heart ached for them. Once they had finished, you pulled out a cloth from your bag and knelt in front of them. They blinked at you but did not move.

“Martyn, don’t you know how to keep yourself clean?” you chided, though you didn’t mean it. The boy looked sheepish as you cupped one of his cheeks to hold his face still, using the cloth in your other to wipe away the bits of food stuck around his mouth. You wiped away the grime and dirt sticking to his face from the cold, small cell as well before moving on to do the same for Willem, who eagerly let you clean his face—you supposed the eleven year old must have seen you as a surrogate mother figure while he was being held away from his real one. You swallowed roughly at the thought of how worried their mother must be, wondering where her sons were and if they were even alive.

“Will you come back again?” Willem asked innocently, lifting one of his small hands to grab part of your dress.

You smiled at him as best you could, trying not to show them how affected you were. “Of course I will. Who else will take care of you?” All three of you giggled together, the tension easing. “Do either of you have any more scrapes for me to take a look at?” They shook their heads and you quietly let out a breath of relief.

“Is it true, what they say?” Martyn asked you abruptly.

“What do they say?” you questioned back.

“That the King in the North turns into a direwolf at night,” he said innocently. “That he howls at the moon and eats the flesh of his enemies.”

You gnawed on your lip, taking in the sparkling eyes of the young boys. Playfully, you leaned forward and lowered your voice. “It’s true,” you told them. “But only on the full moon. And he only eats the flesh of naughty boys who don’t listen to what they’re told, so you two had better behave yourselves.” They nodded their heads quickly, easily believing the tale.

As you took your leave, hugging each boy goodbye and promising to come see them tomorrow and to bring a bigger breakfast for them, you could hear them murmuring about how the king in the North couldn’t be killed with admiration in their voices. You sighed, the guard giving you a pitying look as you left the dungeon, hoping that the war would be won sooner rather than later. At least the boys didn’t seem to hate Northerners or the Starks, regardless of their family name and position.

As you exited the castle, you saw your father fuming and Jungkook’s mother in front of him. Their voices were loud enough to draw attention and you slipped closer to the crowed of soldiers around them, listening in.

“I’ll have their heads!” your father was shouting. “And if you try and stop me—“

“You will strike me down?” Lady Jeon yelled back, narrowing her eyes at him. Her face was twisted with rage so like the way Jungkook’s had before that you were momentarily reminded of how alike the two really were. “Have you forgotten me, Ser? I am the widow of your liege lord—I am the mother of your king!”

Lady Jeon’s guard unsheathed part of his sword, drawing nearer. “Threatening my Lady is an act of treason—“

Your father interrupted menacingly. “Treason? How can it be treason to kill Lannisters?”

Lady Jeon looked at him firmly. “I understand your grief, my Lord, better than most. The Lannisters will pay for their crimes, I promise you. But for now, in the name of my son—your king—stand down.”

“I will demand their heads from your son,” your father continued, anger still simmering in his expression.

Lady Jeon’s face tightened. “Wise men do not make demands of kings,” she warned.

“Fathers who love their sons do,” he spat back, turning away from her and marching toward the others. Soon, the crowd dispersed, and you quietly slipped away, unwilling to let anyone know that you had been down in the cells. Your heart was pounding harshly against your ribs, pumping dread through your entire body as you set about making your usual rounds to the soldiers to keep them healthy and well.

As you were going back to your chambers to grab a few things and rest a few moments, you were summoned by your father to his own. You quickly made your way there, knocking on the door to his chambers lightly.

“Come in,” he called from the other side of the door.

When you walked in, shutting the door behind you, you took in the dark look on your father’s face. You immediately knew to brace yourself for a lecture. “Yes, Father?” you prompted, clasping your hands in front of you as you waited.

He stood from his chair, watching you coldly. “Do you know what they’re saying about you?”

You swallowed. “What are they saying about me?”

“That you go into the king’s room every night for hours,” he started, almost spitting the words at you. “That my daughter is the king’s whore!”

You had to calm your breathing, trying not to panic at the insinuations. You already knew that they had been spreading rumors about you, but not to this extent. “I haven’t done anything improper with the king,” you mumbled, barely able to string a coherent sentence together; you were lying, of course—being alone with him and letting him hold you close was far from proper, but you hadn’t shared a bed with him.

“Do you think it matters, you stupid girl?” he shouted, drawing closer to you. You had to stop yourself from flinching away. “It doesn’t matter if you have or not! The rumors themselves, that you’re—that you’re spreading your legs for the king, no man will ever come near you!”

“But, Father—“

“Quiet!” he roared, his open palm coming down hard against your cheek. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out, reaching out to hold your stinging skin, looking back up at your father fearfully. “The king is betrothed to a Frey girl,” he continued, towering over you. Your hands started to shake. “He will never marry you. Do not bring dishonor on our family—on our House!”

You nodded your head, staying silent. After a few moments, your father scoffed and turned away from you, walking back toward the table in his room. You straightened your back again, hand still cupping your burning cheek.

“You are dismissed,” he told you coldly.

Without a word, you left his chambers. You kept your head down as you passed people in the halls, dropping your hand to your side and fisting the fabric of your dress in your hands. Once alone in your own room, you hurried to wash your face and press a cloth wet with cold water to your cheek, hoping that it wouldn’t swell.

You slipped down the hall toward Jungkook’s room, as you did every night. He hadn’t called for you yet, but you were impatient to feel his arms around you and feel his breath on your skin. The dread pooling in the pit of your stomach hadn’t subsided, but you pushed it to the back of your mind in favor of seeing your king.

When you passed the main hall, you paused, hearing people talking inside. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack, seeing your father surrounded by a few other men and Jungkook himself standing before him. The king had a scowl on his face and you couldn’t help but quietly enter the room, watching and listening in even though you knew you shouldn’t. Jungkook’s eyes caught yours and for a brief moment you saw a distressed expression take hold on his face before he schooled it into something harsh and he looked away from you, toward your father.

You didn’t have to say anything, as your eyes were drawn toward the ground, where on a rag lay two bodies, dried blood smearing their throats. You bit back the gasp as bile rose in your throat, eyes wide and trained on the two young Lannister boys’ dead bodies, the familiar color of their golden hair and baby features startling you. You snapped your gaze back up toward your father’s back.

“Is this all of them?” Jungkook asked one of his guards. The man nodded his head. “It took five of you to murder two unarmed boys?”

“Not murder, Your Grace,” your father spat. “Vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Jungkook repeated incredulously. “These boys did not kill your son. I saw your son die on the battlefield against the Kingslayer.”

“And they were his kin—“

“They were boys!” Jungkook yelled, unable to keep his composure. There was silence and you were sure if a needle dropped to the floor, you would be able to hear it. You wrung your hands, squeezing your fingers repeatedly, trying to keep your breathing steady and even. Your father had really gone through with his threats and killed the two boys. “Look at them,” Jungkook snarled at him.

“Tell your mother to look at them,” he shot back, eyes never wavering from Jungkook’s face. You managed to tear your gaze from the dead bodies, catching sight of a silent and disheveled Lady Jeon seated at the window sill, her eyes unmoving from the Lannister boys. “She killed them as much as I.”

“My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason—“

Your father interrupted, provoking the already angry King. You wished he would just stop talking for once, but you were familiar with his combative nature, too hot-headed to ever just shut up. “It’s treason to free your enemies! In war, you kill your enemies—did your father not teach you that, boy?”

There was a heavy silence, everyone’s eyes snapping to your father. Nobody seemed to be comfortable with the insult at Jungkook’s deceased father—he had been a good man, and an even better lord. One of the guards started to draw his sword, but King Jungkook raised his hand in a motion for him to stop.

“Leave him,” he said.

“Aye, leave me,” your father taunted, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Leave me to the king; he wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That’s how he deals with treason.” You could see the hateful smirk on your father’s face. Your eyes darted to Jungkook’s, which was set into a scowl. “Our king in the North… Or should I call him the king who lost the North?”

Jungkook’s face didn’t even twitch at the provocation. His eyes remained firmly on your father and when he spoke, his voice was soft—but the words were not. “Escort our lord to the dungeon. Hang the rest.”

After a beat of stunned silence, there was a flurry of movement. The guards began to push at the men to lead them out, and two guards gripped your father’s arms. One of the younger men spoke in a panic, struggling against the guards.

“Please, mercy, Your Grace!” he begged. “I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards!”

Jungkook’s cold eyes cut to the man, not a shred of compassion in his gaze. You shuddered, the look so foreign on his face. “This one was only the watcher,” he started, voice growing harsh. “Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” You watched on with a sense of growing horror as the men were shuffled out of the room and Jungkook turned away, his mother and uncle watching his every move.

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun,” his uncle said, approaching Jungkook. You stood by the door, too frightened to make a move and draw the attention to yourself. “You can bury them and remain silent. The Lannisters always pay their debts, they keep fucking saying it—”

Jungkook cut his gaze to his uncle, halting him with just his look. “I can’t fight for justice if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks, no matter how Highborn.” His eyes seemed to find yours for only a brief moment. “He has to die.”

The words cut straight through you and it was like your muscles remembered how to move again. Your steps were quick as you made for Jungkook, grabbing his arm and looking at him pleadingly. His own hands automatically raised to grip your elbows, almost steadying you.

“Please, my King,” you rasped. “Please, don’t do this, I beg of you—”

Lady Jeon cut in. “Keep him as a hostage until the war is over,” she argued, approaching the two of you quickly. “They’re Northmen. They won’t forget the killing of their lord, nor will they forgive it.”

“Please,” you whispered, gripping the fabric of his sleeves so hard your fingers started to ache. “Please don’t kill him, please, he’s my father—”

Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and his brows furrowed. He seemed pained and his hands around your elbows tightened, as if he was going to make to pull you close. “Take her to her room,” he said instead, shoving you away from him. “Make sure she doesn’t come out.”

“No!” you begged, fisting the material of his shirt even tighter, refusing to let go of him even as his uncle grabbed your shoulders from behind to yank you back. “Please don’t do this, Jungkook, please, he’s my father, don’t take him from me like my brother was, please, he’s all I have left—”

Your pleas fell on closed ears, Jungkook turning away from you harshly as you were dragged out of the room, still kicking and screaming and pleading with him to reconsider. You didn’t even feel the hot sting of tears rolling down your cheeks until you were thrown into your chambers and the door locked from the outside.

You rushed at the door, attempting to open it even as you heard the locks click into place, screaming and crying until your voice went hoarse and your throat ached with every wracking breath you took in.

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook watched the men lead the lord over to the stone, the weather just as gloomy and threatening as the atmosphere that surrounded everyone. Many of the lord’s men stood to watch the execution, as well as his own family and other houses.

His hands were bound, his look venomous as Jungkook approached him. “The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as it does yours, boy,” he spat at the young king. “I fought the Mad King for your father,” he continued. “I fought the boy-king for you. We are kin.”

Jungkook’s voice was even as he spoke, though he could feel the weight of the sword at his hip like it wished to drag him to his knees. “That didn’t stop you from betraying me. And it won’t save you now.”

“I don’t want it to save me,” the lord scoffed, a mean smirk playing on his lips. “I want it to haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “Kneel, my Lord.”

The man did so after a long look at his king. He dropped his knees to the ground and bent his body over the stone until his head was past the edge. Jungkook drew his sword, willing his hands to stop shaking and that nobody would notice it; he set the tip on the ground and held the hilt with both hands as he started to speak.

“Lord of Karhold, here in sight of men and gods, I sentence you to die.” Jungkook looked down pitifully at the older man. “Would you speak a final word?”

The man slowly turned his head to glance up at Jungkook, his features contorted with rage. “Kill me and be cursed,” he said. “You are no king of mine.”

Before he had even fully turned his head back down, Jungkook drew his sword up in front of him. With a harsh, swift movement he swung the sword down and the metal sliced into the lord’s neck until it went cleanly through. The head fell to the ground with a thud and blood dripped down the metal of his sword beside it. His eyes tore away from the sight and he was breathing heavily as he turned away, the silence of everyone around him deafening.

Jungkook walked away from the scene, sword clasped tightly in his fist and trailing blood behind him.

It didn’t take long for his mother and uncle to find him in his chambers, sitting at his table with a look of concentration on his face. His sword was nowhere to be found, as he’d given it to a squire to clean.

Before they could say a word, Jungkook spoke up without looking at them. “Are there guards posted by ____’s room?”

“Yes,” his uncle replied.

Jungkook sighed. His mother stepped closer to him, but stayed on the other side of the table. “His men won’t forget this,” she warned. “The second they seize her, they’ll abandon you and march back North.”

He sighed again. “I know.” Staring daggers into the wood, he repeated the words. “I know.”

“How will you manage to keep her as a political hostage?” his uncle said. “They might abandon us even without her. I don’t think those stubborn soldiers will willingly ride into battle for us regardless of if their lord’s daughter is locked up in a room somewhere or not.”

Jungkook had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Bile rose in his throat and he knew what his mother was going to say the second he met her eyes.

“You’ll have a choice,” she said gently, kindly. “You can let her go with her father’s forces back to the North, and marry the Frey girl for more men from Lord Frey.”

“There’s no guarantee that he would send them in time,” Jungkook groaned, dropping his chin to rest on his palm. “Lord Frey is notorious for sending his men at the end of wars.”

His mother reached a hand over to settle it on his shoulder. He wished, for a brief moment, that he was young enough again to be able to hide in her skirts and be comforted by her. But he wasn’t. And the burden he carried now would forever rest on his shoulders.

“You can marry her,” she said. Jungkook glanced up, catching sight of his startled uncle staring at his sister as if she were mad. “It would bind our families together and as the only remaining heir to their House, you would be in command of their men until she had a son. They would have to stay.”

“If you do that,” his uncle started. “The Freys will never forgive you. Lord Frey is not a man to be crossed.”

“You are both right,” Jungkook mumbled. “But I will not force her to marry me. And I’ve already given my word to Lord Frey.”

His mother pursed her lips. “You won’t be forcing her. We need only speak to her mother. And they won’t refuse you—their House will care more for having a daughter as Queen in the North. I need only your agreement, Jungkook.”

Jungkook dragged a hand over his face. There was no way he could put his trust in Frey to send men in time for the next battle. That wretch of a man would rather see them all dead than send his aid, even if his daughter became Jungkook’s wife; his children were too many to count on his favor for any of them.

“I’ll do it,” he strained. “Send a raven.”

YOU

It had been days since the execution of your father. You were not allowed to leave your chambers, maids leaving your meals for you before leaving and locking the door. There were always at least three guards posted right outside of your room—and if you had somehow managed to get past them, there would be many more of Jungkook’s men that you would encounter.

The door to your chambers opened suddenly and you flinched, straining to see from your spot on the windowsill. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of your mother, the door shutting quietly after she was let inside. You stood from the window and rushed over to her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. She embraced you just as tightly, her hand stroking your back comfortingly as you started to cry like you had as a child.

“Are we leaving?” you finally whimpered, sniffling. “Are we going back home?”

Your mother’s silence concerned you. Your heart started to beat faster and you tightened your grip on her, waiting. “We’re not going home, my sweet child.”

You pulled back, hating the pitying look on her face. “What do you mean? Why not? They—“ You swallowed, eyes turning down toward your feet. “He killed Father.”

“He did,” she replied. Her hands pulled away from your back and she brushed your hair from your face, wiping your tears gently. “But you’re going to marry him.”

Her words were like ice piercing straight through your abdomen. “What?” you whispered. “No, you can’t be—you can’t be serious!” Your voice started to strain and you backed away from her, shaking your head. “You can’t make me!”

She sighed, clicking her tongue as if you’d just refused to sit with the maesters. “Think about what you’re saying,” she chided. She walked to your bed and sat at the edge. “Your father and brother are dead. You’re the heir to Karhold. Who will take care of us?” she asked. “Neither of us will be able to take care of ourselves. You’ll have to marry anyway.”

“But surely not him,” you sputtered. “He’s promised to a Frey girl! He can’t marry me!”

Your mother stopped your arguments with one harsh look. “Think. The King in the North has already sought out your hand. Do you think any other man, Highborn or not, will dare ask for your hand now?” You bit your lip, unable to say anything back. “If you don’t marry him, you’ll bring ruin to our Great House.” She sighed, standing again. “I’ve already approved the match. After all this, you’ll be Queen in the North. Our family will rise to an equal level with House Stark.”

You blinked back your tears, letting your mother take your limp hands in her own and squeeze them. “How can I marry my father’s murderer?” you whispered, staring at her fingers wrapped around yours.

She frowned. “We all do the things we must, in any situation. He will not be the man who killed your father after this. He will be your king and your husband.” You sniffled and she made a displeased noise. “Your children will be princes and princesses. Soon, you will forget all about your worries and be free, my dear.”

You tried to give your mother a smile, swallowing all of the pain stirring in your chest. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

She smiled, now, and wrapped you up in another hug. “I want you to be happy,” she said quietly in your ear.

“I will be,” you answered her, though you didn’t believe it yourself.

The ceremony would be soon, you knew. You hadn’t seen your newly betrothed nor anyone else, for that matter, besides the servants who brought your meals. You knew they must have been afraid that you would run away if given too much freedom, even if you had agreed to the marriage. You spent your days and nights doing nothing but think and remember the last conversation you’d had with your father. You blinked and wiped away your tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup they had spent so long on.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door—you had to hold back a chuckle at the notion. It was locked and the person outside would need to unlock it themselves, so there really wasn’t a point in knocking.

Your mother walked in, smiling widely as she saw you. “My sweet child,” she breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You hoped your own smile didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Thank you.”

She rushed over, helping you stand and fixing a few of the wrinkles she could see in your gown. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to turn around. “Let me put the cloak around you.” You faced away from your mother to let her put the thin fabric with your House colors on your shoulders, covering much of your frame.

You turned toward the door just in time to see a man you didn’t recognize walk into your chambers. “Who is this?” you asked.

“A distant relative,” your mother answered easily. Her face soured for a moment before it fixed back to her normal smile, though you could tell she was forcing it. “Since your father and brother both won’t be able to walk with you.”

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat. “Right.” Your mother left before you, hurrying to the courtyard where the ceremony and feast would be held. You took in a shaky breath and approached the handsome man.

“You look beautiful,” he said kindly as he offered you his arm. “My name is Eunwoo.”

“Thank you, Ser,” you mumbled, taking his arm hesitantly and allowing him to lead you from the room toward the feast. You could hear a soft melody the closer you got.

“Oh, please,” he laughed. “I’m no knight. Just call me Eunwoo.”

You somehow managed to shoot him a strained smile, fingers subconsciously tightening on his arm the closer you got to the feast. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Silently, he helped you drape your veil over your face.

The two of you exited the castle and a hush fell across the guests. There were candles and torches lit, placed strategically to give off an intimate atmosphere under the darkness of the night sky. Through the veil, you could vaguely make out the shape of Jungkook standing at the end by the Septon.

You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

Once you were close enough, Eunwoo released you and you took a deep breath. You could tell that the ceremony was being held in the Godswood, the different faiths combining for your wedding. You supposed it was to appease all the gods, since the two of you were from Northern families who still worshipped the old gods.

Jungkook’s uncle stood beside him—at least, you assumed it was his uncle. You weren’t sure until you heard his voice.

“Who comes before the old gods this night?” he asked. With all the ceremonies you’d been to, his voice reciting the words sounded awkward; it couldn’t be helped, you supposed, since Jungkook’s uncle was from Riverrun and not the North.

Eunwoo spoke on your behalf, saying your name and House. “She comes here to be wed. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods,” he finished with. His voice was confident as he said the words. “Who comes to claim her?”

You swallowed as Jungkook stepped forward. “Jeon Jungkook, of House Stark. Heir to Winterfell and King in the North. Who gives her?”

“Cha Eunwoo of House Poole,” your distant relative answered. “A cousin to her mother.”

Jungkook’s uncle spoke again, directing his question to you. “Do you take this man?”

There was a long silence as they all waited for you. I could go now, you thought to yourself, heart pounding harshly. If I beg the Septon, he’d help me, surely. I could go.

“I take this man,” you murmured, stepping forward toward Jungkook. Everyone seemed to release a breath of relief when you finally answered, the tension that was starting to build up easing. Jungkook’s uncle and Eunwoo left the two of you.

You could vaguely make out their figures moving to the side, presumably to find a place to stand on the proper sides of the guests. You walked forward the rest of the way to Jungkook on shaky feet. Once you stood beside him, you faced him and he pivoted to face you as well. His hands gripped the hem of the veil and he lifted it from your face, letting it fall over your shoulders. Your eyes met his for a long moment and your chest felt tight with something bittersweet; this had been the sight that you yearned for, a mere few weeks ago. Now seeing him illuminated by the fires and moonlight, standing before you and a Septon, you were overcome with the urge to cry—for your grief and for your love, which hadn’t disappeared as you thought it would.

The Septon’s voice broke the spell the two of you had suddenly been put under and you darted your gaze over to him. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Jungkook nodded and shrugged the dark cloak off of his shoulders. He circled you until he stood behind you and he gently lay the cloak over your shoulders, making sure it was completely in place before he pulled his hands back. You found yourself wishing that he would keep his hands against your skin and you hated yourself for it.

When he came back to stand at your side, the two of you faced the Septon. Jungkook stretched his arm out with his palm facing the ground and you followed suit, resting your hand on top of his. A shiver ran up your arm and you almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight.

“In the sight of the Seven,” the Septon started, voice echoing through the silent grounds. He dropped a strip of fabric on your hands and began to wrap them together, looping the thin white cloth around three times as he continued. “I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

You swallowed roughly and turned to face Jungkook, who did the same and faced you. Your hands remained together between the two of you. Like this, you almost felt too close to him. You could hardly breathe, especially when his dark eyes were so tender in that moment, the features that had looked so cold the last time you saw him now appeared soft and gentle.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the two of you recited together. “Mother, Maiden, Crone.” You licked your lips. “Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine,” Jungkook said softly.

“I am his, and he is mine,” you echoed at the same time.

The two of you finished the last of the vows quickly. “From this day until the end of my days.”

There was a long pause, everything quiet but the sound of your breathing and the crackling of the fire. You glanced at the Septon, who gave the two of you a small nod with a smile. Jungkook’s hand turned upwards and he held yours in his gently. Leaning forward, he raised his other hand and his fingers grazed your cheek. He cupped your face and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Jungkook’s mouth remained on yours for a few seconds and a tingling sensation started on your lips, spreading to the rest of your body as if the gods themselves had reached forward and given you a drop of nectar.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes and an applause started from the guests—almost all of which were soldiers. You took in a shaky breath and tried to smile, eyes scanning the crowd of suddenly noisy people for your mother. You met Lady Jeon’s eyes instead and her smile was so warm as she gazed at the two of you, hands clutched together tightly, that it almost brought a wave of fresh tears to your eyes.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand, wanting to feel his skin on yours desperately and hating yourself for it.

Jungkook walked over to the largest table with you at his side, hands still clasped together. Everyone’s voices started at once, the crowds starting to gather from the food that had been prepared, digging in immediately. As the two of you sat down, Jungkook released your hand. You put them in your lap, staring at the food in front of you blankly, the mix of emotions swirling inside your stomach distracting you from wanting to eat anything. When you peeked over at Jungkook, he was eating slowly, talking with the people who came up to the table lightly.

It didn’t take long before the guests grew rowdy, their voices growing loud and chanting something that you didn’t want to hear.

“Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

You glanced over at Jungkook with wide eyes. The corners of his lips were twitched down into a small frown, but he clenched his jaw and forced a smile onto his face.

“Perhaps we should skip the bedding ceremony,” he said.

There was a round of boo’s from the guests and soldiers.

“Your Grace!” someone shouted from the crowd. “It’s only right to bed the new lovers!”

He sighed as everyone started to laugh and cheer, already getting up from their seats. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled. He got up, the few women in attendance hurrying up to the two of you.

A group of the soldiers followed suit, all of them rushing the two of you out of your seats and shoving you toward the hall again. The women giggled as they pulled at Jungkook, undoing his buttons and strings. Your breathing quickened as the soldiers lifted you in the air, hands gripping you tightly so you didn’t fall. They led forward first, tugging at your cloak and dropping it in the warm hall as they rushed you toward the king’s bedroom.

“Watch your hands!” Jungkook shouted from behind. The men looked sheepish and stopped their insistent gripping at your gown, thankfully leaving you with your dress on. They pushed open the door and carried you to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto it. The women dragging Jungkook inside weren’t far behind, and you swallowed as you saw his disshelved state—his shirt was pulled open to reveal most of his chest, and his pants already half undone.

They pushed Jungkook beside you and he let out a small noise as he fell next to you, hand catching on yours for a brief moment. The two of you looked up at the men and women still laughing, their smiles wide and naughty.

“Have fun,” one of the soldiers said, winking as he ushered the others out. “Don’t be too rough, now! One should always be gentle with a lady on the first night!” he called loudly before they left the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

And then you and Jungkook were alone in his chambers, only the dim candlelight illuminating your forms.

You stood from the bed, pulling at the sleeves of your dress nervously. Jungkook stayed seated on the bed, watching you silently. It only served to unnerve you more. You heard him shift behind you, but you refused to turn and look at him.

“If you don’t want to—” he started.

“It’s fine,” you said tightly. “We have to.”

More silence. You continued to fiddle with your sleeves, unsure of what to do. There was a soft sigh behind you and more rustling. You didn’t hear Jungkook come up behind you until you felt his hands on your arms, gripping them gently. You couldn’t stop the flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” you said, just as quietly.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Jungkook continued. “If things had been different—”

“I said stop!” you shouted, whirling around to face him. Jungkook dropped his hands from your arms. You hit his chest with one of your fists, not hard enough to truly hurt him but hard enough for him to feel the weight of it. He said nothing, eyes falling shut as the room smothered the two of you in silence.

Tears were starting to fall down your cheeks and your chest was heaving with soft sobs. “You killed him,” you whispered, voice thick. Jungkook remained silent. You hit him again, with both fists, and kept hitting him, moving his body backwards with each strike. “You killed him and you didn’t let me see him!” Your voice cracked as you screamed the words at him, your punches to his chest landing more frantically in your hysteria. “You didn’t let me, you didn’t let me, you didn’t let me—”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around your wrists tight and he pulled you flush against his chest, halting your assault. You were crying loudly, now, thrashing and twisting in his grip in an attempt to dislodge his hands. He didn’t let go, instead shaking you back and forth.

“Of course I didn’t!” he shouted, his own voice hoarse and his eyes glassy. You fought to get away from him, not wanting to hear his voice, the same voice that had whispered such sweet words in your ear only weeks before. “You would never have forgotten it, if you had seen. I was trying to protect you!” He shook you again and you let yourself finally look at him, let yourself see the desperation in his eyes. “Don’t you understand?” he asked. “Don’t you understand that I was trying to protect you?”

You went limp in his grasp, sobbing violently. Jungkook released your wrists and caught you in his arms instead, wrapping you up in his embrace as he held you close. You rested your head on his chest and let him hold you as you cried, grief washing over your body like the winter winds. His hands stroked your back comfortingly, his face burying itself in your hair. You could feel his heartbeat as you wept against his chest, fast and unsteady just as yours beat.

Looking up at him with teary eyes, you took in a shaky breath. “Comfort me,” you whimpered, leaning forward. “Please.”

Without another word, Jungkook pressed his mouth to yours harshly. He kissed you almost violently, hands gripping your body tight enough to leave bruises as he led you back toward the bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you sat down, his lips following after you while you crawled up onto the middle. Jungkook crawled up toward you, lips finding the skin of your neck and trailing chaste kisses up and down it before pressing his tongue to the flesh.

You arched your back and spread your legs, allowing his hips to nestle comfortably against yours, the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you deliciously. He bit down on your shoulder as his hands hurriedly lifted the skirts of your dress, fingers trailing on your skin light enough to ignite a sense of urgency in your nerves. You rocked your hips up into his, chuckling breathlessly at the groan you received from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, beginning to pull his head away from you so that he could look at you.

Your mouth dried and you didn’t want his eyes on yours. With your hands, you gripped his hair and lightly pushed his head back down toward your neck, swallowing roughly. “Make me forget, Jungkook,” you told him. “Please.”

There was a pause and the tension between you was harsh, almost suffocating you as you waited, throbbing, underneath him. Then Jungkook moved and you let a relieved sigh escape your lips as he slightly lifted his head to kiss you. His eyes were closed and his mouth was rough, just as you wanted it.

His hands continued to shove your dress up until you could feel the breeze of the cool room against your bare skin. He barely glanced down to look at you as his hand found your undergarments, fingers caressing your most sensitive spot. You gasped softly, pulling away from his hungry kisses as he rubbed his fingers against you, the added friction of your underwear making you shudder.

“Do you want it?” he asked roughly, looking down at you.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and turned your head to the side, thighs opening wider to give him more room. “Yes,” you whispered.

“How badly do you want me?” Jungkook pressed, rubbing against your clit harder.

“So badly,” you breathed, a moan escaping. “I want you so bad, please—”

Jungkook nearly tore your undergarments off, yanking them roughly down your legs until you could kick them off, roughly maneuvering you as he did so, which you didn’t mind. He continued with your dress, actually ripping the seams on the back after he pulled you up a bit to get it off. You helped him as quickly as you could, pulling your arms out of it and then kicking the heavy thing off and tossing it to the floor.

Pausing to just look at you, splayed out beneath him, Jungkook gave you a strained yet soft smile. You didn’t want to see it. Instead, you grabbed at the hem of his own shirt and started tugging, wanting him to take it off. He snapped out of whatever it was he was thinking and helped you, undressing himself quickly until the two of you were bare before each other.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down his body, taking in every inch of his beautiful form. Your gaze stopped at his cock, erect and red—it was larger than you’d thought. Would it even be able to fit inside of you? You paled for a second as you stared shamelessly at it.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your head. You looked up at him in slight alarm. “Don’t worry,” he reassured you. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” you asked in a small voice, unable to stop yourself.

With a choking cough, Jungkook looked away from you and bit his lip hard. When he turned back to you, his eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated and covering almost his entire irises. “Yes, it’ll fit,” he said gruffly. “I’ll prepare you first.”

“What do you mean, ‘prepare’ me—” You cut yourself off with a hitched gasp as one of his fingers slipped inside of you slowly. You clenched your fists and flopped back all the way onto the large bed, your cheeks and neck hot.

Jungkook leaned over you as he worked his finger inside of you, curling it and seemingly looking for something. When you peeked up at him, you could see that his eyes were focused completely on his movements between your thighs.

“I’ll prepare you with my fingers, first,” he said in a dark voice, another finger starting to slowly push inside of you. You groaned gutturally, screwing your eyes shut. “You’re already very wet, so it shouldn’t hurt when I replace my fingers with my cock.”

Your eyes were wide at his crude words and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how he was looking at you—or, well, a part of you. The pleasure from his fingers was starting to take you over completely, the pressure from the second digit starting to disappear.

His thumb pressed against your clit and you moaned unbidden, the sound nearly tearing itself out of your throat. You quickly covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see whatever faces you were making as he worked on pleasuring and preparing you.

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” Jungkook asked, his voice breathy and pleasant. You shook your head, pushing it back into the pillow as your back arched and your hips rocked up toward his fingers. “Gods, you’re beautiful. I could spend all day like this, watching you come undone on my fingers.”

“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were even asking for. “Please, Jungkook—”

“You want to come?” he asked. You nodded your head. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

With a whimper, you moved your hands down your face and rested them on your chest. “Yes, please Jungkook, I want to come—”

“Then come,” he said easily. His fingers worked you harder, his thumb pressing against your clit deliciously and your mouth fell open as the ecstasy ran through your abdomen and through your entire body. You came around his fingers, clenching them erratically and rolling your hips up into his palm.

When the feeling had passed and you relaxed your tensed limbs, Jungkook’s fingers moved inside of you. You winced and wriggled, but he shushed you and moved his thumb away from your clit. You felt a third finger press against your folds and then he slipped it inside, all the way to the knuckle, along with the two still inside you.

“Jungkook—”

“You’ll need more than two fingers to be able to take my cock,” he told you gently, but when you glanced at his eyes you could see them flickering with something like delight. His fingers moved inside you slowly until you were moaning again, the slight pain turning to pleasure again. Jungkook groaned and his voice was unsteady when he spoke. “You’re so tight and wet, and all for me.”

You whimpered at his words, clenching around his fingers. “I’m ready, please, Jungkook, I want you—”

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly. You were left clenching around nothing and feeling strangely empty, but it didn’t last long. You peered down and saw Jungkook using the hand that was pleasuring you wrapped around himself and he was pumping his cock with it, letting out quiet hisses of bliss at the friction. He guided himself toward you and the head of his cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your slick.

You swallowed nervously and couldn’t help but tense up your body.

Jungkook noticed and used his other hand to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Are you ready?” he asked seriously. You couldn’t move away from him thanks to the hand on your jaw, but you knew he would pull away from you if you asked in that moment. You knew he was asking you are you sure you want this and not are you ready for me because you knew him.

“Yes,” you whispered, holding his gaze confidently.

Jungkook released your jaw and then pushed his cock inside of you slowly, eyes never leaving your face. Every time you tensed your body more or bit your lip, he stopped and waited for you to relax. It took a few moments, but eventually he was buried completely inside of you.

You were already sweating, your body feeling completely damp. Jungkook was right above you, his own hair damp and his breath heavy on your face. He held himself up and off of you, only touching you where his cock was sheathed in you, his hips against yours, and his thighs brushing yours. You let your hands press against his chest, dragging your hands up and down slowly. You were clenching tightly around his cock, still unable to relax completely. It felt more like an intrusion than anything you would willingly partake in, but you were sure the pain would ebb into pleasure soon.

Jungkook shuddered above you and you watched him curiously as you let your fingers caress his collarbones and up his neck to his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut and you could see him swallow. You raked your nails lightly down his neck and chest, letting your hands grip his sides. He shifted and then you felt him brush against something inside of you that made you arch your back and nearly cry out from the ecstasy that shot through your limbs.

“There?” he asked breathlessly. He pressed in even deeper, holding himself still against that spot inside of you and your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to get him in even deeper. Your arms moved of their own accord, going around his back and nails digging into his skin. “Does that feel good?” he teased.

You let out a puff of air and nodded your head, pulling him down against you completely. He nipped at the skin of your shoulder as you buried your head against his neck and pressed a chaste kiss to his warm skin. “Yes,” you answered shakily. “You can move now.”

With a shaky exhale, Jungkook shifted and then pulled his cock out slowly. You made a strangled noise, the sensation strange and foreign. Then he pushed back in slowly, starting a gentle pace in and out as you adjusted to the new feelings between your thighs. You were throbbing and he let you hold him as tightly as you desired, his chest brushing your breasts lightly. His hand ran down the side of your body and he slipped it between your bodies, fingers finding your clit easily and rubbing circles against it.

“Faster,” you breathed, arching your back and throwing your head back against the pillow. Jungkook groaned and didn’t quicken his pace, simply looking down at you curiously.

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Please,” you whispered, shutting your eyes and clinging to him tighter. “Harder.” You didn’t dare open your eyes and look at him, simply letting yourself lose your senses in the movements of his cock and hands.

He complied with your request, pulling back from your body and then slamming into you roughly, making you cry out in surprise. It was as if he became a beast, his hands grabbing hold of your hips and yanking you toward him as he sat back on the bed, thrusting his cock in and out of you harshly. Your hands slipped off of his shoulders and you fisted them in the sheets of the bed, moaning unabashedly at how blissful it felt.

The pain strangely offered you a newer sensation, mixing with pleasure deliciously. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t want him to stop. No, you wanted more.

Clenching around his cock, you moved your hands back up to his forearms for purchase as he pistoned in and out of you relentlessly. His quiet grunts as he rocked his hips into yours only fueled your pleasure, the ecstasy spreading from where you were joined to your abdomen once again. You took in a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone a second time, this time around his cock.

As the pleasure ebbed away, you winced at Jungkook’s continued movements. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, still thrusting into you harshly. You grabbed one of his hands and swallowed, moving it away from your hip. You pulled yourself backwards, off of his still hard and leaking cock, and he bit his lip as he watched you.

When he started to shift away from you, you squeezed his hand to stop him. Jungkook watched you curiously, unsure of what you wanted from him. You yanked on his hand to bring him forward and he took the hint, letting you maneuver him until he was seated against the headboard of the bed. You licked your lips and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth while you straddled his lip, positioning yourself above his no doubt aching cock.

You slowly sat down, using one hand to guide him in properly. With a hiss, you felt the head of his cock push past your folds and into you. Somehow, he felt much bigger in this position. You could barely make out his expression as you were too focused on fitting him in completely, but you could tell he was holding himself back from making any movements while waiting for you.

Once you were fully seated on his cock and your slick was dripping onto his thighs, you fluttered your eyes open and met his hungry gaze immediately. Jungkook let his palms rest on your thighs, where he slowly trailed them up to your hips, his fingers caressing you tenderly.

“You’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck while you adjusted to the stretch once again.

Jungkook groaned and pulled you closer, both of you moaning when you rolled your hips and clenched around him. “You don’t know how dangerous you are,” he breathed, letting his forehead rest against yours and his eyes shut. “It’s taking every bit of self-control that I possess not to fuck you until you’re crying.”

You couldn’t help but smile shyly at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “Why don’t you, then?” you said teasingly.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and he peered at you darkly. “It would be wise to keep your mouth shut before I find another use for it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, but then he thrust upwards and your giggles turned into gasps for air and quiet moans. One of his hands found its way to your clit again, rubbing the throbbing area until you were almost wildly bucking into his hand, clenching erratically around his cock. His other hand trailed up from your hip to your hair at the base of your neck, gripping it tightly in his fist and yanking your head back to bare your neck.

“I think you need a lesson,” he growled against your skin, biting down hard on your throat while he fucked up into you. Your fingers found their way to his hair and and you fisted the strands sporadically while you moved along with him, feeling as if every nerve in your body was screaming, drowning you in a pleasure you’d never known before.

It didn’t take long for you to orgasm again, your hips stuttering as he rolled his own upwards, his cock dragging against your clenching walls heavily, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support. His fingers didn’t stop moving against your clit, his cock still shoving into you roughly, and it all helped you drag out your pleasure until tears were spilling from your eyes, all of your feelings crashing into you at once along with the pleasure.

You held Jungkook to you tightly as he chased his own release, breathing heavily while he left a trail of sloppy kisses against your shoulder and neck. It took only a few more strokes until he was coming, tugging on your hair and pulling you close, his fingers moving from your clit to wrap around your back and hold you to him while he emptied his seed inside of you. You shuddered at the warmth filling you, squeezing tightly around him to try to prolong his pleasure.

When it was all over, the two of you sat there, holding each other close, the tears in your eyes freely flowing down your cheeks. You had no doubt that Jungkook knew you were crying, but he said nothing. He released his grip on your hair and let his hand drag down your back gently, still hugging you close to him. You could feel his come start to drip out of you, his cock softening inside you until it started to slip out as well.

Jungkook didn’t make a move to shift the two of you, allowing you to take a moment that you so desperately needed. You used one hand to rub at your eyes and cheeks, wiping the tears away, and you shakily exhaled as you pulled away from him. His arms relaxed around you so that you could pull back, and you met his dark eyes. Looking away from him, you shifted your hips up so that his cock slipped out of you, grimacing at the dripping release that followed it.

Neither of you spoke as he helped you clean yourself up and then the two of you prepared for bed. Once you were both comfortably laying underneath the furs, Jungkook turned to look at you beside him. You turned your own head toward him, watching him silently and waiting.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, almost whispering. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You allowed yourself a brief smile as Jungkook reached over and gently caressed the side of your face with his fingertips. “No,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the swell of the ache in your chest. “You didn’t hurt me.”

The morning had been stiff and odd, soreness settling into your limbs and making you wince with each movement. Jungkook had risen the same time as you, both of you muttering quietly as you spoke briefly—neither of you were used to waking beside another.

Jungkook had left a mere moments ago when there was a knock at the door. You were still seated by the mirror in the room, head turning to call for whoever it was to enter. When the door opened, you saw your mother’s bright face peeking in and you smiled. At the sight of you alone, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, walking over to you with something clasped in her hands.

“How was it, my sweet child?” she asked, a smirk on her face. Your cheeks felt hot and you were violently aware of the marks littered on your neck and down your chest. The servants had not been in yet, but you knew your mother could clearly see what she was looking for on the sheets, barely covered by the furs.

“Mother,” you chided, voice muffled with embarrassment. “That’s not proper—”

“Oh, please,” she waved off, coming closer to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “Men will be men. As your mother, I want to know that my daughter is being taken care of.”

You sighed aggressively, rolling your eyes. “It was fine.” At her raised eyebrows, you curled in on yourself a bit. “He was just fine. I didn’t know I could feel like that,” you muttered, almost under your breath.

She chuckled and nodded her head. “Good. Now, here, drink this,” she continued, holding out a small vial to you with a liquid you didn’t recognize inside. At your questioning look, she finished speaking. “It’s to help with fertility. You need to cement this union with a child soon.”

You pursed your lips but took the vial from her nonetheless. Going down your throat, the liquid was bitter, but you held back the cough as you handed it back to her. She smiled sweetly at you and patted your shoulder.

“I will be with you a while longer,” she said. “There is nothing much for me to return home to, as things are.”

The ache that had dulled in your chest grew sharp at her words. You couldn’t speak even as she left the room, and you fidgeted with your fingers where you sat. Tears sprung to your eyes and you sat where you were, crying as quietly as you could manage. Even as the maids came in and inspected the sheets before removing them, replacing them with new ones, you sat and wept for all that you had lost—you were not sure that what you had gained could ever overshadow the grief.

You stretched your arms and back, letting out a satisfied groan when you felt the crack in your stiff muscles. Jungkook had gone out to speak with the soldiers and heads of the Houses, and you had just finished up your breakfast when your mother came into your room, precisely at the time she did every morning these days.

“Again?” you huffed.

Your mother clucked her tongue at you as she held out the same vial to you, which you took with a grumble about the taste every morning. “You know it’s important for you to produce an heir, my darling. Once you are with child, there won’t be a need for these visits.”

You rolled your eyes but drank the bitter liquid anyway, crinkling your nose as you swallowed it down in one go. “It’s been weeks, Mother, surely it’s helped as much as it could with fertility by now. We wouldn’t know, anyway, if I were with child already.”

She didn’t say anything, instead sitting across from you and helping herself to some of your almost finished breakfast. You let her, setting the vial down on the table and sighing. With her mouth full, your mother started to speak. “And how is our king? Can I assume he’s still as enthusiastic as he was on your wedding night?”

Your neck felt warm and you huffed loudly, crossing your arms. “Mother! How can you ask me that so easily?”

She smiled at you wickedly. “Everyone can hear you two, you know. It’s a little unnerving hearing the servants and a few others talking about your daughter’s activities with her husband, but thank the gods I’m staying nowhere near this room—”

“Okay, okay, enough!” you yelped, shaking your hands out to get her to stop. She laughed heartily, but you couldn’t stop the embarrassment that filled your gut. Though you knew by now that if Jungkook knew about this, he’d be thrilled—he did often whisper huskily in your ear to be louder, to let everyone know how good he was making you feel.

There was a knock on the door to your shared quarters and a guard poked his head in after you called out for whoever it was to enter. You stood from your chair, your mother quickly doing the same.

“My Queen,” he said gruffly. “Your presence has been requested by the King. You are to come at once.”

You nodded your head, letting the smile slip from your lips and a more serious expression settling in place. “Take me to him,” you told the guard. He nodded, opening the door fully and waiting for you. Turning to your mother, you found her already looking at you. “I’ll come visit you soon,” you said softly. She nodded her head and took the empty vial with her before she left ahead of you, walking down the hall. You walked out of your room and the guard shut it behind you before he escorted you to the main hall that was used to welcome in guests.

When you entered, you saw Jungkook seated on one side of the large table, two men seated across from him. Your husband looked at you warmly and quietly motioned for you to take a seat beside him, which you did with ease. He reached over and gripped your hand under the table, intertwining your fingers with his. You tried to keep the small smile off of your lips, but you knew you weren’t too successful in your attempt.

“These are two of Lord Frey’s sons,” Jungkook introduced, squeezing your hand.

You swallowed nervously and smiled at them. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lords.”

One of the men looked you up and down, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few moments too long. You tried not to scowl or roll your eyes. “So this is who you married instead of one of our sisters.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The man continued, not letting your husband utter a single word. “No matter. We come bearing news from our Lord Father. He is a forgiving man, our father. He wants to make you an offer.”

Jungkook leaned forward a bit, interested. You didn’t know much about the strategies, but you knew that House Frey was better to have on your side rather than the enemy’s. Everyone knew Walder Frey was not a man so easily crossed. “And what is this offer?”

“If your uncle takes your place and marries one of our sisters, all will be forgiven,” the other man said, leering at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. “But he demands that they be wed immediately, so that you cannot go back on your oath a second time.”

Jungkook cast his eyes down for a split second before he looked back up at them. “It will be arranged. We make for the wedding tonight, then.”

The men smiled and then stood, prompting the two of you to stand as well. Jungkook dropped your hand on the way, keeping it at his side. He shook hands with the two men and then they were escorted out of the room, where they were to gather their things and then make their way back home along with everyone here.

Jungkook had a soldier outside call for his mother and uncle to come to the hall, where he would go over everything with them. You wondered how his uncle would take the news—not well, you were sure. The news of your own sudden betrothal had come as a shock, even if it had been under slightly different circumstances than Jungkook’s uncle’s. You had an inkling that he would respond in a similar way as you had, or in a way much more exaggerated than you had—men had a tendency to express their emotions more often.

When both of them had appeared, Jungkook paused for a few minutes of tense silence before he decided to break the news.

“Uncle,” he said. “Arrangements have been made for your marriage to a Frey girl.”

There was an almost instantaneous burst from his uncle, as you’d expected. “What is the meaning of this? Why was I not consulted before the decision?”

Jungkook’s face was emotionless as he stared at his uncle, looking every bit a King in the North. “There was no need to consult you. We do not want the Frey House in our bad graces forever, and this is what they demand for crossing them.”

“So I will be fixing your mistake, then—”

“Careful, Uncle,” Jungkook said lowly. A shiver ran down your spine at his tone. “I may be your nephew, but I am still your king.”

The sentence shut the older man up, his face turning red with humiliation. You simply stood in silence, glancing between the men. Jungkook’s mother stood by the window, watching her brother and her son argue. You wondered how it felt for her.

Jungkook continued in the face of the silent but fuming man. “The Freys clearly want a powerful alliance and we have snubbed them already after making an oath. We cannot afford to make another enemy of a House, not when we are fighting for peace and the freedom of our people.” He turned to give his uncle a disappointed look. “Is your comfort more important than the future of our Northmen?”

At least at these words, Jungkook’s uncle had the decency to look embarrassed. He lowered his head, unable to meet Jungkook’s eyes. “No,” he nearly spit out. “It is not, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat. “Then prepare yourselves. We will be leaving at once to make our way to Lord Frey’s keep.”

His uncle bowed his head and then turned to leave, slamming the door behind him. You tried not to roll your eyes and turned toward your husband, only to find his mother already beside him.

“Are you sure about this, my son?” she asked quietly. There was a strange look in her eye but you did not question it.

Jungkook sighed and let his shoulders relax now that it was only the three of you in the hall. He faced you briefly and the tired look on his face prompted you to walk over to them and grab his hand with yours to comfort him.

“What else is there to do?” he asked. “I have no more options. If I hope to win this war, I need more men on my side rather than the Lannister’s. This will be a way to fix both the rift between our Houses and get more men. Refusing Lord Frey isn’t an option.”

His mother paused, looking down at your intertwined hands and you thought you saw the ghost of a smile crack on her stern face. When she met her son’s eyes, the smile had gone. “Do what you think is right for your people. You always have.”

With those words, she parted, leaving the room to go prepare herself to leave for the wedding. Jungkook turned to face you fully when she left, releasing your hand so he could grip your upper arms lightly and look at you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, though it almost sounded like it hurt him to say it. Like he wanted to say something else, but held back. “With me.” He shifted his hands up your arms and the sides of your neck until they were cradling your face gently.

“Me too,” you replied, keeping your voice soft and gentle. You couldn’t meet his eyes, the guilt of your statement gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast, even as his touch on your skin ignited sparks of a flame.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his forehead on yours. You raised your hands and placed them atop his on your cheeks, letting your eyes flutter shut as he breathed in deeply. Your husband was a just and fair ruler to his people, you knew that despite what had happened, but you could tell he was feeling the burden that had been placed on his shoulders.

“My father would have liked you,” he whispered, losing himself in his thoughts. You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering that you hadn’t been the only one to lose someone amongst the Northerners. It was a painful reminder.

“I wish I could have met him,” you told him, gripping his hands a little tighter.

“As do I.” He sighed slowly and his thumbs started to caress your cheeks absentmindedly. “One of the last things he told me before he went to King’s Landing was that being a Lord was like being a father.”

“How so?” you asked.

“It’s like you have thousands of children,” Jungkook said. “You wake with fear in the morning and go to bed with fear in the night. The farmers are yours to protect. The children and women scrubbing the floors are yours to protect. The men you order to fight for you are yours to protect.” He pulled back a bit to look at you, smiling with only the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t believe him, you know. I asked him how a man could be brave if he was afraid.”

“What did he say?”

Jungkook chuckled. “‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ he said.”

You allowed yourself to laugh briefly as well. “Your father was a wise man.” Getting the words out were harder than you expected, a lump forming in your throat.

“Yes, he was,” Jungkook continued. “He was the best man I ever met.” Pulling away from you completely, your husband brushed his fingers across your cheek before he dropped his arm to his side. “We’d better get on our way, as well.”

You nodded your head and followed beside your king as the two of you left the hall and made your way to your quarters to pack what little you had brought with you.

The lot of you were gathered in front of Lord Frey and all his many children and grandchildren. You shifted uncomfortably every time any of their eyes landed on you, standing beside Jungkook.

“My Lord,” Jungkook started confidently, stepping a little forward. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

“You broke your oath,” Lord Frey returned, a nasty smirk on his face. “Your father would not have.”

You could see the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders at the lord’s words. “You are right,” he said calmly, lowering his head briefly. “I should not have done so. It was wrong of me to break my word.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” the lord continued dismissively. You could tell he was enjoying all of this, even if everyone else looked extremely uncomfortable. You tried not to let it show how uneasy you were at being here. “It is my girls who you spurned.”

There was a pause and Lord Frey gestured with his arms for his daughters to step forward. They did, coming to the front in a very long line. You tried to count them all but there were too many of them. You had heard numerous times from your parents having attended multiple weddings of Walder Frey himself that he had married many young girls. It seemed every time a wife of his passed, he would find himself another.

He made you sick.

“Your father is right,” Jungkook said, his voice much softer now than it had been when addressing the lord. “It was wrong of me to treat you, and my oath, with such disregard. The fault is not with you; it is with me. All men should keep their words, and kings most of all. I pledge to do all that is in my power to amend these wrongs so that our Houses may continue to be friends.”

The old lord clapped his hands almost mockingly and his daughters returned to their original places, no longer standing in a visible line. You wondered how the old man had the courage to so blatantly disrespect the King in the North, but you supposed he knew there was not much that Jungkook could do to him right now.

“Very good,” the lord said loudly, smirking at Jungkook. Then his eyes turned to you, dragging up and down your form in a way that made you wish you had another cloak over your shoulders. “And there is the bride you broke your oath for.” He leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes at you. “Come closer, dear. Let me have a look at you.”

You fidgeted, glancing at Jungkook. He turned his head and met your gaze, giving you a small nod. Stepping forward, you bowed your head briefly to the lord. You glanced around the room, noting how all of the Frey men eyed you up along with their lord. It was disgusting. You wished you hadn’t come.

“Very pretty,” he said appraisingly. “Quite beautiful, indeed. Alright, enough of that. The servants will help you all to your accommodations and then we will feast.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped back and tried not to completely shy away into Jungkook’s side. When you were all led out of the hall and to your own rooms, Jungkook made sure to stick close to you even though he wasn’t touching you.

Once you were in your quarters, your bags having already been placed there before you, you turned and faced Jungkook. He placed a hand on your cheek and then leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, leaving you flustered.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he started, “stay close to me, alright?”

“Are you afraid they’ll try something?” you asked curiously.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “Lord Frey is a dangerous man, but he’s not stupid. It wouldn’t do well to start a fight with me and my men here. But I want you safe.”

“I will be safe,” you promised. “I have you, don’t I?”

Jungkook chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close into a warm embrace. “Yes, you do,” he mumbled into your hair softly. “You’ll always have me.”

You wrapped your own arms around him, holding him close to you as you shut your eyes.

It would be a long night ahead.

The chatter during the feast was loud and servants were walking around refilling goblets with wine and replenishing the food that was being eaten by the hungry Northerners. You spotted a few of your own men seated at tables or standing around flirting with the women, having fun. You could even spot a few people dancing to the merry tunes the band was playing.

Your eyes landed on Jungkook’s uncle, seated happily by his new bride—who turned out to be quite a beautiful girl—eating berries from her hand while she laughed. You couldn’t help but have to hold back a chuckle at the sight, as the entire way here he had been moaning and complaining about the marriage. But now he was sat beside his bride, enjoying himself completely. You tried not to think ill of your husband’s uncle, but he was indeed extremely shallow. Just a look at a beautiful girl and he was forgetting himself, completely overjoyed.

“That could have been you, up there,” you teased, turning toward Jungkook, who was sitting beside you. He was comfortable, leaned back in his chair, the food on his plate nearly completely gone and the wine in his goblet having been refilled at least twice. “Eating berries from a beautiful girl’s hand, enjoying yourself.”

Jungkook hummed, sending you a small smirk. “Maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Your mouth fell open and you faced him fully, making to smack your hand against his chest for the jab. He caught your wrist easily and his smirk turned into a wolfish grin. “Striking your king is treason, you know.”

You lifted a brow at his words and cocked your head to the side teasingly. Jungkook pulled you toward him with the hand in his grip and you pushed at him lightly when he made to kiss you. “No, don’t,” you mumbled, leaning away from him. “Don’t insult them.”

Jungkook grumbled but did as you asked, leaning back in his chair and dropping your wrist. You sat back in your chair as well, just in time it seemed. The loud music in the dining feast started to quiet, the new happy couple stealing glances at each other seated up by Lord Frey.

“Your Grace,” the man called. “Your uncle has wrapped my daughter in a cloak and the Septon has prayed his prayers. But they are not yet man and wife! A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding!” There were roars of laughter around you and you grimaced. How could a man utter such words at his own daughter’s wedding? You supposed you were luckier than most to have married Jungkook, even if the wedding had been cloaked in despair and death. “What does my sire say?”

The men around all of you started to cheer and slam their cups into the tables. “Bed! Bed! Bed!”

Jungkook smiled and sat up in his chair. “If you think the time is right, Lord Frey, then by all means—let us bed them!”

Applause and cheers broke out as the Northerners rushed forward to make a grab for the newlyweds. Jungkook’s uncle was laughing along with the women and girls who grabbed at his clothes and started to undress him as they went, though you could see the Frey bride’s unease as the men carried her out, shedding her of her outer clothes.

You tried not to shake your head at the sight, remaining in your seat instead. Jungkook reached over and held your hand comfortingly in his, sending you a smile. The large doors shut loudly after the couple was led out along with the men and women, and only a handful remained—including a lot of your own men. You leaned toward your husband, but then Lord Frey’s voice rang out again in the quieted hall, a strangely familiar tune playing from the band.

“Your Grace,” he called out. “I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat, and wine, and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift!” The lord chuckled as he spoke, but something about his voice and the way he was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

You glanced over at Jungkook, whose eyes were on the lord’s, and you caught the barest glimpse of something in the light. You started to turn in your seat and saw a hand with a tight grip come down toward your king. You couldn’t process what was happening until you heard Jungkook’s pained grunt, his hand loosening around yours.

It was a knife.

Your eyes widened and you started to scream as the man stabbed Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly with his blade, blood splattering on your hand gripped in your husband’s, and spilling from his clothes. Jungkook released your hand to grip at his wounds while the man hurriedly shifted away so that he couldn’t grab him. Your hands started to reach for Jungkook.

You were still screaming when hands gripped your arms, yanking you out of your seat and away from Jungkook. You could vaguely hear shouts and the sound of metal slashing against armor and skin, the faint sound of Jungkook’s mother screaming her son’s name, but your eyes were focused on him and him alone. He tried to get up from his seat and failed, groaning with pain as his men were slaughtered alongside him.

“Let me go!” you shouted, thrashing against whoever was holding you. “Please, please, let me go—let me go!” The man didn’t listen to you, simply holding you against him in place as he moved away from the bloody scene. A hand came up to cover your mouth when you started screaming incoherently.

Your wide eyes took in the scene of carnage, Northern men falling into puddles of their own blood, the band shooting arrows from their crossbows at any Northerner still standing, and you could feel the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. Jungkook crumpled to the floor from his seat, cradling his torso as blood pooled underneath him. With a quick sweep of the room, you could see that it was your men along with the Freys who were weilding bloody weapons.

What had they done?

As the screams and shouts had faded, almost everyone lying dead on the floor, you spotted Jungkook’s mother standing in front of Lord Frey, a knife in her own hand and blood dripping down her arm and to the floor. Jungkook was gripping the side of a table, pulling himself up shakily onto his feet, one hand still pressed uselessly to his bleeding stomach.

“Enough!” she shouted, voice thick. “Let it end! Please… he is my son. Let him go and we will take no vengeance, I swear it! By the old gods and new, we will forget this!”

“You already swore me one oath—you swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!” Lord Frey shouted back, comfortably seated in his chair.

“Jungkook!” she cried, turning to face her staggering son. “Jungkook, get up! Get up and walk out, please!” Your chest was wracked with silent sobs as the man held you, his hand still covering your mouth, and you cried helplessly at the desperation in her voice, the same desperation filling you. “Please!”

Lord Frey scoffed. “And why would I let him do that?”

Jungkook was standing now on his own, facing his mother. Then he turned back, his dark eyes finding yours. You fought against the grip around you harder, trying to get to him.

You spotted a man making his way toward Jungkook and you screamed, tried to make Jungkook understand that he needed to leave, needed to get away from the man. With a shock, you realized the man making his way to Jungkook was Eunwoo. Had this all been arranged before with your mother and Eunwoo, along with your men?

He grabbed your husband by his shoulder and stood completely in front of him. Brandishing a knife, he mumbled something quietly to Jungkook, and then he plunged the knife into his gut once more. Yanking it out, Eunwoo stepped away and left Jungkook to crumple once again to the ground, into his own blood, completely limp.

The grip around you loosened enough for you to stumble forward, falling to your knees. Staggering forward, you made your way over to Jungkook and fell once again to your knees at his side. You could feel the damp blood seeping into your dress, but you paid it no mind as you cried, your hands desperately clinging to Jungkook, his eyes open and staring up at nothing.

You looked up and saw someone grab Jungkook’s mother and shift their blade against her skin, slitting her throat, and she fell to the floor in a heap as blood spurted from the slice. You turned back to your husband and king, laying lifeless in front of you as the men hurried to and fro, cheering for their victory against the King in the North.

Your hands grabbed at his chest and torso, coming away sticky with his blood, and you shakily placed them against his cheeks. His dark eyes were unseeing and you couldn’t stop sobbing, not paying any mind to anything else that was happening around you.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, the tears still falling. “You can’t leave me, please,” you cried. “Please don’t leave me, you have to stay with me, Jungkook, please—don’t you remember?” The tears fell onto his face while you asked, a small pained smile making its way onto your face. “You said I would always have you. That’s what you said, Jungkook. You can’t leave—” You broke off into muffled sobs, unable to continue speaking.

There was no answer.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, weeping for another loss amidst the deafening shouts and cheers of the men around you.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 17 JAN 2020 | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is strictly NOT allowed. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

What Rhymes With “AY”? Warning: This survey has 114 questions

1. Do you enjoy listening to reggae music? I haven’t listened to much reggae music.

2. Have you ever rolled in hay before? No. I’m actually allergic.

3. Has anyone ever broken a promise they made? Of course. 

4. Last time you went to a café, what did you order? Coffee.

5. Have you ever been to a matinee performance before? No.

6. Would you like a chance to ride in Santa’s sleigh? Why or why not? Would it be like the one in The Santa Clause that had a hot chocolate and cookie dispenser? ha. Swap the hot chocolate with coffee, though.

7. Have you ever taken ballet lessons before? How about any other type of dance lessons? No. That was actually something I wished I could do when I was a kid and in high school. I thought the dance team was cool.

8. Do you own any sexy lingerie? Nope.

9. Have you ever caught a bouquet of flowers at a wedding before? Nope.

10. Do you know how to do the Whip/Nae Nae? I do, actually.

11. Have you ever played croquet before? Nope. 

12. Has a horse ever neighed at you before? No.

13. How much do you weigh? I’m not exactly sure, but I am definitely underweight. 

14. Do you ever wear a beret? No.

15. When’s the last time you’ve been to a buffet? Back in February. There was a breakfast buffet at Disneyland where you got to visit with various characters while you ate. It was cute.

16. Have you ever attended a cabaret? No.

17. Have you ever eaten at Swiss Chalet? No. Never even heard of it.

18. Do you know how to crochet? How about doing macrame? No.

19. Do you have a duvet on your bed? No.

20. What was the last thing that ricocheted off of a surface? My phone did.

21. What do you put on your ice cream sundaes? I’m good with just vanilla ice cream and strawberry syrup, but sometimes I’ll add chocolate syrup as well. Bananas and whip cream are also great additions. Wow, it’s been yearsss since I’ve had one but that sounds really good right now.

22. Have you ever woken up to the “Reveille” bugle wake-up call at summer camp? No. I’ve never been to summer camp.

23. What is your favorite entrée to order at your favorite restaurant? My favorite restaurant is Wingstop and I always get the garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings.

24. Is crème brulee your favorite dessert? I don’t like actual creme brulee, but I like the creme brulee latte at Starbucks that they offer in the winter.

25. Do you know anyone who wears a toupee? I don’t think so.

26. Have you ever made a soufflé before? Was it good? Nope. I like the spinach and artichoke breakfast souffle from Panera, though.

27. Do you prefer ice cream or sorbet? Ice cream.

28. Do you know anyone named Renee, Jay, Clay, or Ray? I know someone whose middle name is Renee if that counts, and I also know a Jay and a Ray.

29. Have you ever had café au lait? Yes.

30. Have you ever gone to a restaurant called “Chez ______”? No.

31. Hey, how’s it going? It’s almost 730AM I should be going to sleep. My medicine I took a bit ago is making me feel a little nauseous, too, cause I took it on an empty stomach. That wouldn’t have been a problem if I just went to bed, but nooo. :/

32. When’s the last time you wore a lei? It’s been several years.

33. Did you obey your parents when you were younger? Yes.

34. Who do you want to hunt down like prey? No one.

35. Have you ever had whey before? No.

36. What message would you like to convey to someone right now? Nothing at the moment.

37. Whose survey did you take last? I don’t know who made it.

38. Have you ever been to a bay before? Yes.

39. Do you have a bae? “Or nah.” Ha, old Vine reference. Anyway, no, I do not.

40. What’s your favorite day of the week? They’re all the same to me, really, since I’m not in school nor do I have a job.

41. Have you ever had to read “The Cay”? Nope. That title doesn’t ring a bell.

42. Are you feeling okay? I’m feeling tired, hot, and kind of nauseous. 

43. Do you know anyone who is gay? Yeah, a few people.

44. Do you like the acting of Tina Fey? Sure.

45. Have you ever listened to The Fray? Yes, I like a few of their songs.

46. Do you have any frayed clothing? No.

47. Do you prefer bluebirds or bluejays? Bluebirds.

48. Is May your favorite month? No. I only like saying, “It’s gonna be May” haha. You know, the NSYNC/Justin Timberlake meme.

49. May I ask you some more questions? Sure.

50. Have you ever voted “nay” to anything before? What? Yeah. I was a board member for a club in college and there were things we voted on. 

51. Have you ever wanted to make someone pay for something that they did? I’m not a revengeful person.

52. Do you ever just lay around all day? That’s all I pretty much do everyday. 

53. Are you a happy little frickin’ ray of sunshine? No. I’m a little black raincloud. 

54. Is there something that you would like to say to someone? “There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know howwww.” 

55. When’s the last time that you were so excited that you exclaimed (or at least thought) “yay!” ? I said that the other night when my brother said he was making his bomb spaghetti. haha.

56. Have you ever felt like you’ve lost your way? I’ve been feeling that way for the past few years.

57. Do you ever wish that people would just go away? lol I’ve felt that way in some situations.

58. Have you heard an animal bray before? What animal was it? Yeah, a donkey.

59. What’s the last thing that you made out of clay? Nothing.

60. Are you starting to go gray? I’ve found a few here and there. D: It was like the minute I turned 30 I found my first one, ha.

61. Are you feeling okay right now? No. I still feel how I felt earlier when you asked how it was goin’. :/

62. Do you pray? How often? Yes, but not nearly as much as I ought to. 

63. What’s the best play you’ve seen before? The Phantom of the Opera.

64. What did you like to play with when you were younger? I was obsessed Barbies, I could play for hours. I also liked playing house and school.

65. Do you know how to sashay? “Sashay away.”

66. Would you like to slay dragons? Nah. I wouldn’t want to mess with a dragon.

67. Have you gotten your pets spayed? All my dogs were fixed/spayed. My doggo was spayed before we could take her home from the adoption shelter.

68. Have you ever begged someone to stay with you? Not begged, but I didn’t want them to leave.

69. Has the room ever started to sway before? I hateeee that feeling. 

70. When’s the last time you ate a meal on a tray? Uhhh. I don’t recall.

71. Do you know how to do math arrays? You’re speaking math so no. 

72. Have you ever experienced a delay of any sort? Yeah.

73. Do you have any tooth decay? No.

74. When’s the last time you wrote an essay? What was it about? Back when I was still in school, so it’s been 5 years now since the last time. 

75. When’s the last time you competed in a relay race? I participated in a few wheelchair race events when I was a kid.

76. Have you ever wondered how you could ever repay someone? Yes. I wish I could spoil and take care of my mom one day for everything she has done and continues to do for me. She deserves so much.

77. What did you do today? So far just Tumblr, surveys, and listening to ASMR.

78. Would you ever take in a stray animal? We don’t really have room for another pet, but I’d want to help in some way. Once we had a stray dog wander in our backyard and we took care of him until we were able to find him a good home. We also once had a cat who often went into our backyard and she ended up having kittens, so we cared for them and found them all homes, including the mama.

79. What’s the last cleaning spray that you’ve used? Lysol disinfectant spray.

80. When’s the last time you splayed your fingers? I’ll do it right now. 

81. Has your airway ever been blocked before? Yes. Such a scary, traumatizing experience. It’s why I can’t take pills now at all unless I can crush them.

82. Has anyone ever led you astray? In some ways.

83. When it’s hot out, do you sleep with blankets anyways? Noooo. 

84. Have you ever felt betrayed? Yep. Not a nice feeling.

85. When’s the last time you listened to a DJ? My cousin’s quince a few years ago.

86. What’s the last unfortunate thing that happened, to your dismay? This pandemic.

87. When is payday? The 1st of the month (disability). 

88. Do good moments or bad moments replay through your mind more often? My mind likes to dwell on all the bad stuff instead. 

89. Do you prepay for anything? I typically like to pay all my bills at the same time each month instead of waiting until the day each of them are due.

90. Have you ever walked on a runway before? No.

91. Do you know a runaway? No.

92. Have you ever ridden the subway before? How about driven on the skyway? Nope.

93. Have you ever used an ashtray before? No.

94.How do you feel about public displays of affection? I don’t mind a little bit, like a quick kiss, hand holding, arms around each other, or a hug. 

95. Where would you like to go for a getaway? I wish I could rent a beach house and have my own private beach area.

96. Do you do any gateway drugs?  Some say weed is a gateway drug, but I personally never had any interest in try anything beyond that.

97. Have you ever felt like someone wasn’t meeting you halfway? Yes.

98. What were you doing at midday? I’ll be sleeping.

99. Have you ever stopped midway through a survey before?  Yeah, I did that with this one. I started it last night, but got too tired to finish it.

100. What’s your favorite holiday? Christmas.

101. Do you like to drive on the highway/thruway? I don’t drive, but yeah I prefer taking the highway over driving through town and hitting all the red lights.

102. Have you ever put something on layaway before? I haven’t, personally, but I’ve gone shopping with my mom and added stuff of my own along with her’s that she put on layaway.

103. Have you ever been cornered in an alleyway? No.

104. When is your birthday? July 28th. 

105. Do you know anyone who was a castaway? No.

106. How long is your workday? I don’t have a job.

107. What do you typically do on the weekdays? I do the same things everyday.

108. Is there a walkway or a pathway to your front door? Yeah.

109. What do you want to be someday? A functioning adult.

110. What is something that you do everyday? Drink coffee.

111. Do you park in your driveway? Do you even have a driveway? I don’t have a car, but yeah my house has a driveway that my parent’s use for their cars.

112. Have you ever won a giveaway? Yes.

113. How important is foreplay? I wouldn’t know.

114. Hooray! You’ve made it to the end! What are you going to do now? Eat my ramen. I was waiting for it to cool a bit.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

[ayma-nidiot]

The Ride - Sylvix fic Chapter 19

Also on AO3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21973405/chapters/57522871

Chapter 19 – The Light in Conand Tower

“It’s pretty boring in there…” Annette came out after surveying the first room of Conand Tower. “Are you sure we can’t take in the wagon?”

“Just to be safe, I want to leave it out here,” replied Sylvain. “If anything were to happen to our horses…”

“In that case, I volunteer to stay watch.”

“What’s wrong? Ignatz, you sound awful.”

“I… uh… made the mistake of eating fish that we carried all the way from the monastery. I’ve been having the runs ever since we left that Galatea village.”

Sylvain sighed. “Then you should have eaten fresh steak from the market like the rest of us. That fish was a week and a half old. Raphael and Lorenz, look after him, please.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Raphael happily agreed.

“I brought some medicinal tea from Gloucester,” Lorenz added. “It’s a peppermint tea that my family has used for-”

Ignatz suddenly cowered, running behind a nearby bush.

“I… uh… guess I’ll get started on that tea, then.” Lorenz then turned to Sylvain. “Good luck, Sylvain. Take this.”

“You’re giving me Thyrsus, your house’s Hero’s Relic?”

“If your friend is indeed in there, then you’ll need all the help you can get, right? We and our battalions will be fine out here. Now, get going!”

“Thank you.” Sylvain attached the staff to a pocket in his back before entering the tower with the rest of the company.

“It’s quiet… Too quiet.”

“Annette, this isn’t the time for clichéd novel phrases,” spoke Sylvain.

“Well, I remember it from Loog and the Maiden of Wind-” Ashe started.

“For the love of the goddess, guys, can’t you act a bit more seriously?” Sylvain loudly whispered as he entered another room, and sound slowly started to fill his ears.

“Come on, we’re just a little bit… uh… nervous,” Caspar tried – and failed – to sound confident.

“You’re right… I’m sorry, guys.” Just then, the sounds Sylvain heard earlier became louder, but he still couldn’t determine where they were coming from – so they discovered him first. As he blocked the hoard of enemies’ attack on him without even looking at them, he spoke, “Nice try, you goons.”

“Wh-Who are these guys?” Ashe wondered out loud, stabbing a nearby enemy with an arrow from Yewfelle. “Are they… Miklan’s thieves?”

“No, look harder…” Lysithea pointed at the shadows of an enemy she had just defeated. “I don’t think they’re agents of the Empire, either. There’s another power at work here, I know it!”

The leader apparent responded to this correct guess with, “Indeed, smart child. We would never associate ourselves with that useless Miklan. You want to learn who we really are? Then follow us, if you can!”

Without thinking, Sylvain charged after this enemy through the next few rooms, prompting Mercedes to yell, “Sylvain, wait! It’s a trap!”

“Hahaha…” The leader apparent cackled when he stopped in a dungeon full of chains. “So it seems you’re the only stupid one in this entire motley band, Sylvain Jose Gautier!”

“How… do you know my name?” Sylvain tried to look for this enemy, who lurked in the shadows. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Tell us who you are and why you’ve brought us here!”

The shadows began to clear to show chained-up prisoners, whom Sylvain recognized as Miklan’s thieves; he reckoned there were about one hundred of them, if not more.

“You see, we have this wonderful ability to take control of the ambitious and weak of heart, including these two dolts over here.”

The last of the shadows dissipated, revealing two especially large chains, with two men chained to them – and Sylvain recognized the raven-haired one instantly.

“Felix…” Sylvain hardly believed it at first, but after his joy at finally seeing his beloved again overtook him, he ran recklessly to where Felix had been chained. “Oh, goddess, Felix, I never thought I’d- Huh?”

He didn’t recognize him from afar, but Sylvain took a good look at the man chained to the right of Felix, and his face fell at the sight of him. “It can’t be… Miklan? But… But I thought you were-”

While Felix remained completely unconscious, Miklan heard his brother easily enough, awakening with a cackle. “Hehehe… How are you, little brother?” He looked up.

Before Sylvain could ask any questions, he heard Ashe yell, “Sylvain! Look out behind you!”

“Aaaargh!” The fallen enemy screamed as arrows from Parthia hit it, and as it perished, so too did the shadows of which it was made.

“Thank you, Ashe.” Sylvain took a deep breath before brandishing the Lance of Ruin, cutting down an adjacent enemy with the lance. As he did, he noticed a few of his comrades were missing – namely Lysithea and Mercedes. But he knew he had no time to look for them – he believed in their abilities, after all. His belief in his own abilities dwindled, however, as with each slain enemy, the Lance of Ruin grew duller and so soaked in blood and guts that he could hardly see the blade.

“Hah!” Miklan scoffed. “Some good the Lance of Ruin is serving you! You should have left it with me!”

“Shut up!” Sylvain continued to fight despite how his brother irritated him. “It won’t do you any good, either! I’m trying to save your ass here.”

Sylvain took another short respite before thinking, He does have a point, though. I suppose I could use magic, but…

Annette noticed Sylvain trembling in fear. “Sylvain? What’s wrong?”

What if I… What if I fail again?

“Try using light magic!” Annette cast Nosferatu at five enemies at once, and sure enough, they seemed to fade with less effort than Sylvain thought. “If you can at least try to use Seraphim, it would help us a ton!”

“But… I can’t. You saw what happened at Fhirdiad. My incompetence could have-”

“Dammit, Sylvain, if you have the time to mope around, then fight!” Caspar killed more enemies around Sylvain – with the Axe of Ukonvasara, no less.

Lorenz… Everyone… Sylvain felt his hope restored and began to draw the sigil in the air. If my friends are willing to fight for what’s right, then I owe it to them to do the same.

Despite his resolve – and despite that he could properly form the magic circle this time – Sylvain couldn’t yet unleash a proper Seraphim spell.

“Eeeeek!” Annette had been swarmed by two enemies, and her hands had been bound.

“They’re… They’re coming in droves…” Lysithea, along with Mercedes, had beeen cornered in this “main” dungeon by even more enemies, now including a Titanus and demonic beasts.

We’re in trouble… Sylvain retrieved the Thyrsus from his back, and taking one passing glance at Felix, he noticed something in the other man’s pockets. Could it be…?

Sylvain took out the broken item – to his joy, it was the toy lance. Giving his beloved a smile, he turned around again, saying, “You beasts. You will leave my friends the fuck alone – now! Haaaaaah!”

Sylvain’s desire to fight for his loved ones fueled the Seraphim spell that rained down on the Titanus – and the several more spells that followed.

“Amazing!” Lysithea smirked as she readied a Seraphim spell of her own. “I hope you know I won’t be outdone, Mr. Gautier.”

“Hmph.” Annette, who felt more relieved that the enemy numbers dwindled exponentially, still frowned. “I wish I could learn such an amazing demon-slaying spell.”

“Dude, you know Abraxas, the highest level of white attack magic.” Caspar rolled his eyes.

“Try telling that to Triumphant Boy over there,” Lysithea pointed at Sylvain, who, now that the enemies had been defeated, grinned in victory. She walked up to him in congratulations, saying, “Amazing. I had never seen a man successfully wield Seraphim. In fact, you’re only the third man in the history of Fódlan who has been able to successfully wield it.”

“Really? Haha.” Sylvain sounded rather proud of himself.

“Yeah. Most practitioners are holy women. Any man who is able to learn this spell has an especially high prowess for white magic.”

“Which is why he could cast it better than you,” Caspar teased.

“Oh, shush. M-My specialty is dark magic, after all.”

It was at this point that Miklan got tired of all this talk about magic, and decided to remind everyone else of his presence. “So… I’m here, too. Do you think you can get me and my men out of these chains?”

“Oh.” Sylvain’s good mood had dropped instantly as he gave the order to do as Miklan requested. “So, spill it.”

“‘Spill it?’ What’s there to spill?” Miklan asked as he and Felix had been freed; Felix remained unconscious. “Oh, and there are other dungeons with more of my men. Don’t forget about them.”

“Okay, where to begin? How did you survive being consumed by the Lance of Ruin? Why are you here in your old hideout? How did you end up captured in your own hideout?”

“Why did you save us?”

“Listen, you douchecanoe, I’m the one asking questions – unless you’d rather I shoot first and ask questions later.” Sylvain threatened another Seraphim spell.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits…” Miklan paused before beginning his story. “So after you killed me that fateful day – and after you had left – some weird lady with a long pink pony tail showed up out of nowhere. She tried to peddle some mystical item to me – me, a dying man! She called it the Fissure Dragon Sign. Next thing I knew, the shadows stopped consuming my body, and… Well, here, I am. As for who locked us up… I don’t know. But our captors didn’t seem human.”

“So it’s true,” Annette spoke up.

“Annette? Don’t tell me you believe what this shitgibbon is saying.”

“I do. I’ve read about special signs that allow Crestless people to acquire Crests. There’s only one of each kind in the world.”

“Now that you mention it, I remember Professor Byleth carrying some… strange objects in her quarters,” Mercedes cut in.

“I… I’m not sure I like it,” Lysithea commented. “It reminds me of… experiments I would rather forget about.”

“So, let me get this straight, Miklan. You’re telling me that this ‘Fissure Dragon Sign’ gave you the Crest of Gautier so that the Lance of Ruin wouldn’t fully consume you. Do I have that right?”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, little brother! Since you freed me, I think I ought to return the favour, yeah?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Please…” One of Miklan’s thieves – a thief who was part of the group who attacked the Kingdom army at Derdriu – begged. “We’re outcasts from all corners of Fódlan. We’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Another thief added, “We’ve got no food or supplies, either.”

“Sylvain, you know full well you’re going to need all the strength you can get if you want to defeat the Emperor. Many of my men are highly skilled spies – comes with the job.”

“Hmph.” Sylvian finally gave in. “Fine. But understand that I still don’t fully trust you. If I get even the slightest hint that you are going to betray us, I will without hesitation make sure the Lance of Ruin kills you this time.”

“Y-You got it…” Intimidated by his little brother, Miklan tried to take the heat off himself. “Say, I think your buddy here is finally coming to.”

“Ugh…” Felix slowly sat up, clutching his head. “What in the fuck just… Where am I?”

“Felix!” Sylvain didn’t hesitate to hug his boyfriend. He felt no shame in his tears of joy, either. “Oh, goddess, Felix, I… I’m so glad…”

“You dumbass, everyone is watching!” Felix weakly tried to push Sylvain away.

“Oh, don’t worry, we already know,” Annete spoke with a smile.

“And how, pray tell?”

Ingrid simply whistled in response.

“Ingrid…” Felix sounded mildly annoyed.

“What? Did you really think that you, one of Faerghus’ highest-ranking nobles, could hide your relationship forever?”

“Plus…” Caspar started. “A few of us heard you when-”

Sylvain didn’t like where this conversation was headed, and so interrupted it with, “Sooooo… Anybody know why we’re still in this smelly dungeon? Let’s head out to the wagon.”

“Yeah, I agree…” Mercedes liked the sound of this “plan” as everyone made way for said wagon. “I hope Ignatz is okay.”

“Felix, you should have seen it!” Annette sounded excited. “There was this amazing village with some of the friendliest people you will ever meet.”

“Yeah, and probably the best steak you will ever eat.” Ignatz came out of the wagon. “Not that I would know, since I made the stupid mistake of eating fortnight-old fish instead.”

“Ignatz, are you sure you should be up right now? How are you feeling?” Sylvain asked as he returned Thyrsus back to Lorenz, and Caspar did the same with the Axe of Ukonvasara.

“Good, thanks. Lorenz’s tea really did the trick.”

“Speaking of the village, we should probably go back there and buy more wagons for our new comrades,” Ingrid suggested.

Sylvain didn’t let this friendly talk make him forget about the bounty he bought from the Galatea village. “Oh, that reminds me. Felix, I have something for you.”

“Hm?” Felix didn’t expect that much – so the sudden barrage of spicy foods and dried meats raining upon him certainly gave him a surprise. “Whoa there, easy, man. What’s all of this for?”

“Well, I thought that you would want something tasty for once, instead of… moldy bread or whatever you’ve been eating these past few weeks.”

“…”

“Don’t tell me… That’s all you’ve had since you’ve been kidnapped?!” Sylvain started shaking Felix by the shoulders. “My boyfriend deserves to eat all of his favourite foods when he wants!”

“Is that all?” Felix sounded annoyed, but Sylvain could notice a slight smile.

“Nope, I have one more thing. It’s a little old-fashioned, but I hope it’s to your liking.”

Felix scoffed, “What, some more food? Sylvain, I think I already- Oh…”

To Felix’s surprise, the item of which Sylvain spoke was not another bag of beef jerky, but a ring of rose gold and diamonds.

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius…” Sylvain knelt on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Felix remained speechless for about thirty seconds before saying, “…Idiot, how can we do that, given our noble positions?”

“Screw the noble positions! We can do it anyway. If someone doesn’t like it – hell, even if I have to renounce my nobility – then let them not like it!”

“You really are… a reckless buffoon, aren’t you?” Felix smiled as he held out his left hand. “Yes, Sylvain Jose Gautier. I am yours.”

“Whooo!” Caspar started cheering as Sylvain put the ring on Felix’s finger.

“I better start thinking of a good recipe for that wedding cake…” Mercedes thought out loud.

“Just don’t let Flayn take part in that!” Raphael groaned.

“Oh, and here’s a wedding gift.” Sylvain reached in the wagon again to give Felix the Failnaught. “A little something to put your new certification to use.”

“Claude…” Felix smiled. “It is a shame that he couldn’t join forces with us.”

The comrades didn’t laugh for long before an irritated Miklan said, “What the hell?”

“Eh?” Sylvain turned around.

“Why… Why would you just throw away your noble title like that, when you didn’t have to even work to earn it?!”

“Abandoning one’s noble title isn’t unheard of,” spoke Hanneman, who had since abandoned the Empire. “I have a Crest and was born to the Empire nobility, but I abandoned my house to pursue my passion for Crest research. And if I can do it, so can these gentlemen.”

“Plus, we’re not going to just leave the house completely vacant for ruthless Kingdom citizens to fight to become margrave.” Sylvain’s tone was calm, but serious. “Brother, I want you to inherit House Gautier in my place.”

“Wh-What? But… Father would never allow it. And His Highness-”

“His Highness wants a world in which the Crestless do not get treated as less than just for not having a Crests. I myself believe that anyone, Crest or no Crest, should be able to help lead our country, if they’ve won the respect of the people.” Sylvain held out a hand for Miklan to shake. “So what do you say?”

A familiar – but unexpected – voice came out from behind the wagon just then. “I say that we capture these traitors! Dedue!”

“Your Highness.” Dedue – and other loyal Faerghus soldiers - came onto the scene and immediately started placing all of Miklan’s thieves in cuffs.

“Dimitri!” Sylvain began to panic. “What are you doing here?”

“A little bird told me that certain disobedient soldiers of mine snuck out of Garreg Mach Monastery to go on a covert mission.” Dimitri retrieved a broken wine bottle and scrap of toilet paper out of his pockets.

Dammit… He found out! Sylvain glared at Dedue.

“Oh, and another thing… When I said ‘capture the traitors,’ that includes you and everyone who left with you.”

“Aiee! Let go!” Annette struggled from the soldier trying to bind her.

“No! Dimitri, I beg of you, leave them out of this. You see, I coerced them into doing it. They had no choice!”

“Hmph.” Dimitri gestured for his soldiers to let everyone – except for Sylvain, Miklan, and Miklan’s thieves – go. “But you’re still under arrest for openly defying my orders and abandoning the battlefield. As for your punishment, I will decide that during our march to Fort Merceus.”

“You mean you haven’t even gone there yet?”

“How could I not? Anyway, a prisoner shouldn’t be asking needless questions like that. Soldiers, forward march to Fort Merceus, and to victory against the Empire!”

[ashleymosq]

A little about me!

Well to start, my name is Ashley.

I am 33, I believe. After 30 you just kind of stop counting lol. Only birthdays that matter anymore are your kids.

I am married to an amazing and amazingly frustrating at times man. We have been married for 12 long/short years. Depends on the mood I suppose lol.

We have 3 kids. They are awesome, loving, caring, annoying, little beasts. They are my heart and soul though. I would do anything for those little monsters. They are 12, 8, and 6. The 12 year old thinks she is 5 or 15. Depends on her mood lol. She still has her innocence. She knows about things that they teach you in health class about changing bodies and the basics of where babies come from, but there is still that innocence there. She posts videos of her doing Littlest Pet Shop stories on youtube. She loves to draw. She can be as omg you are such a tween or omg I thought you were 12 not 5. There is no in between with her lol. Her personality is awesome. At least when she is not rolling her eyes or huffing and puffing because I told her she has to clean her room instead of playing on her computer lol.

The 8 year old has the softest heart I have ever seen. Still trying to figure out where the hell she gets it from. I have been told that my husband used to be very soft hearted when he was younger. So maybe she gets it from him. She is convinced that all the dogs want and need her love and attention. It hurts her so much when one barks and growls at her. She just don't seem to understand. Her being the middle child, she is usually playing closing with her older sister or younger brother. But with her being a girl and having an older sister, the girls tend to gang up on the little brother sometimes. Bad bad babies. She loves giving hugs and kisses. Out of nowhere she will come up to you and give you the biggest hug. It's amazing.

The 6 year old is a boy. Enough said lol. He is always getting into stuff. Always breaking stuff. Always this and always that. He started kindergarten this year and we had to have a talk with him that I can honestly say I never thought I would have to have a talk about. We had to explain to him that no, you can not pee outside at school and no, you can not poop outside at school.... Yes my son has pooped outside before... We live in the country so no one seen him. Also had to explain to him that he had to leave his clothes on all day. Thankfully he does. Until he walks into the house though. Then all bets are off lol.

I love my kids so much. But there are times that I wouldn't mind duct taping them to the wall. Just for 5 mins of calm. Of course I would never actually do that.

My husband is my best friend. He is there for me when I need him and sometimes when I don't and he just wants to be in space lol. I have found that pushing him to get out of my space is sometimes deemed rude and not a good idea lol. Him and I have been through so much together. He has helped me through so much as well.

I have bipolar disorder, severe anxiety, depression, and borderline personality disorder. My head is fucked... But he helps me though a lot of it. For the longest time he was convinced that depression and all that other stuff was shit made up by doctors to prescribe people medicine that they didn't need. That all the people needed was to just not be sad. Just stop thinking negative thoughts. (Yes, he was one of those people...) After being married to me for a few years, he realized that what he thought was wrong. It is something that is real. It is hard to go through. Thankfully I know that when I am having one of my bad days, I can count on him to help me through it. I spent a lot of my youth bottling it up. That is not good at all.

With bipolar disorder, there are different types. It is not just "you have bipolar disorder".. It is a spectrum. There are more manic forms, more depression forms, rapid cycling. I have the more depression. I am rarely manic, but depression when it hits, it hits hard and knocks me on my ass. Sometimes for hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks. Usually there is a trigger and soon as I identify and address the trigger, I can recover faster.

The bad thing about the triggers though is that I also have borderline personality disorder. With this disorder you often have a "favorite person". This person is someone that is a part of your life that you see often or talk to often. Can be a family member, friend, or partner. For me, it is my husband. He still don't understand what that means. With a "favorite person" everything they say and do towards you can have a positive affect or negative affect on your mood. It can make your entire day so amazing, or it can crush you completely.

When I do something that my husband gets upset or mad about and then he expresses it to me, I get upset. I get very upset. Depending on how bad it is will depend on if it triggers a depression episode or not. He once told me that it is not normal or healthy for someone to be able to have that much of an impact on someone else's mood. He is right, but I have no control over it. I wish I did.

Now being a mom with all this stuff going on in my head can be kid of challenging sometimes. I am mom. I am the protector or kids and their toys. I am the cleaner of the laundry and house. I fix the food. I don't have time to be depressed. So when I am, I have to push my way through the day so that I can still be the best mom I can be under the circumstances. I make sure my kids know that no matter what, I am always here for them. Even if it is for my son to show me this cool new thing they have on Fortnite. Or "omg mom come look at this video of these puppies". Or asking me if she can have a Sims 4 addon.

There are times that I am extremely irritable. I don't want anyone near me, talking to me, or touching me. But I am mom. I do not have the luxury of those things. Even when I am irritable. I just smile and deal with it.

We are a house of gamers. All of us. My youngest loves Fortnite and pretty much all games he can find including Roblox. My middle child loves Roblox and horse/animal games. My oldest is all about Roblox, Sims, and Five Nights at Freddy's.

My husband and I play mostly MMORPG games. We played WoW for a long time. Currently waiting on Classic to come out. Squee. We have played The Forest, 7 Days to Die, Dragon Age. And others. Our son is actually named after one of the main characters from Dragon Age Origins.

So yeah, we all love games. We do play board games as a family as well.

So this is the basics about me.

I had a friend tell me once that I should write down all the insane shit that goes on in my house, so here I am. Hope you enjoy.

[impalaimagining]

PittCon Sunday

(sorry this is so late. my mind has been reeling since I stepped into Jensen’s hug. cut comes after the gold panel)

My heart was racing as I typed this because it contains the letters to Jared story and the interaction between he and I as I gave him the binder and reliving that moment is everything I ever wanted. My liiiffeeee <3333 

Part One (Gold Panel): 

They come walking down the glass bridge. Jensen waves. Jared pushes him aside and becomes the star of the show. Jared takes off his beanie and everybody screams (still don’t understand how he does it).

Someone in the second row continues to talk to Jared from her seat instead of waiting to be selected for a question. (*heavy eye rolling from me*)

Jared and Jensen are sleepy little dorks and I love it. They’re still running on Vancouver time. Jensen didn’t sleep Saturday night, he watched the hours roll by. Jared says we should’ve called Jensen and invited him out with us. Jensen’s got “about two hours of solid” him left before it gets either “really interesting or really boring.”

Jared realizes the actress who plays Hitler granddaughter is from Pittsburgh. They’re “chuggin’ along” with filming - already on episode six. 

Jared says they’re still waiting for the call for season 14 renewal.

Fan is upset because Jensen promised to sing at SNS this year. He laughs and asks, “You believed that?!” He blames timezone switches and Rob, because Rob “likes Pittsburgh to himself.”

They’ve been on a juice diet because “summer was hard” on them (specifically Jared - who still looks incredible, by the way). As Jensen was walking on stage, he found a cup of goldfish crackers and stuffed a handful in his mouth. He comes on stage still chewing. They’re already talking about getting burgers for dinner Sunday night.

Jared envies people who can draw because he loves to do it but is “really bad at it.” Jensen makes a “mean stick figure.” They joke about they wish they could take their profession anywhere the way musicians and sketch artists/painters can. Jensen laughs and says he envisions Jared standing in front of a t-rex exhibit “To be! Or not to be!”

Jared takes on “Misha form!” while answering a question about their childhood memory. Jared tells the story of Tom starting kindergarten. He was flooded with emotions while the other parents were already used to taking their kids and just dropping them off. Meanwhile Jared is crying. Jensen says he has a lot of good childhood memories, but one of his favorite is his sixth birthday. He woke up and put on his cowboy outfit, complete with six-shooters and a sheriff’s badge. He walked outside and there was a horse in the yard for him to ride. Their yard wasn’t big, but he rode the horse in circles and shot his cap guns.

Jensen was never “into” sports medicine, but it was what he chose as he selected college major originally. Jensen says he thinks it would be fun to be a boat captain. Jared planned on going to school for engineering to follow in the footsteps of his brother. Instead, his brother ended up becoming a surgeon, and Jared thinks he would’ve followed that path as well. Jared’s other career options are doctor or teacher. “It’d be fun to be a wildlife photographer,” according to Jared. Jensen decides he wants to be a food and drink writer. Jared mocks avocado toast, Jensen says he’ll wolf one down if it allows him to travel to Italy.

Jared has so much trouble with his microphone.

They’ve never dreamed as Sam and Dean, but they dream about them and the set. Jared has had dreams about Kim Manners since his passing, where they talk, “which is... interesting.”

Danneel has to tell Jensen to stop using the Dean voice. Other times she’s like, “Can you please use the Dean voice...?”

Fan says alternate universe in s12 was out of left field but it was awesome. Asks if the boys have been surprised by anything the writers have thrown into the plot. Jensen says French Mistake. Jared says his big left field moment was when he traveled to Los Angeles before season 6 and met with Sera. She told him about soulless!Sam and he had to hide his gut reaction because he was right in front of her instead of being on the phone like he normally would be. Soulless!Sam is one of Jared’s favorite character twists. 

Jensen would never rule theatre out of his life as a future option. He doesn’t currently have plans to return to the stage, but he wouldn’t mind going back. Jared says he hasn’t done theatre in a long time, and he loved it. It’s the “best training ground possible,” but it’s hard to keep it fresh. Jared compares theatre to doing squats for thirty minutes. Jensen laughs and mocks him. joking about never skipping leg day.

A fan is getting fired for being at the convention. Asks about binge watching because she has a lot of free time now. Jensen says he watched Ozark in a week. Jared says Breaking Bad, but he’s on to Ozark because of Jensen’s recommendation. 

Fan gives suggestions for food places. A place called Burgatory. Jensen asks if there are any exits. 

“Did someone say Sanchez?” - Jared... why

Unicorns or dragons? Jared: unicorns ‘cause they’re not going to kill me, and they fart rainbows. Jensen: I’m gonna go dragons. Speaking of dragons... anybody watch game of thrones? Jared jokes about Jensen ruining the show for him by mentioning dragons. Jensen asks if everyone is caught up. Fan says no. Jensen: “earmufffssss!” He thinks they totally ripped off the demon!Dean transformation scene.

Part Two:

Jensen Ackles photo op! 

Was a little nervous but not really because like yeah he’s adorable and Jensen friggin Ackles but I didn’t have anything to tell him or show him so it was nothing like Misha (or Jared).

I walked up and said, “Hi! How are you?” He smiled and said, “I’m good. Tired. How are you?” I kind of yelled a little bit when I responded but it was so worth it. “Great now!” And then I proceeded to throw my arms around him and Chris took the picture. Jensen rubbed my shoulder as I was walking away. 

His hugs are so soft and gentle. His voice is so sweet and smooth. Jensen Ackles smells amazing and he’s so... *sigh* 

Part Three: 

JARED. PADALECKI.

This is the motherfucking ultimate high point of my weekend. I met. I hugged. I got a photo with. Jared. Padalecki. 

As I walked up, my heart was pounding let me tell you, boy. He smiles and says, “Hi!” oooh lawd his breath smells like booze and it’s something of my dreams (don’t ask.). I can smell his cologne. Y’all weren’t kidding when you said he uses a fuckton. I love it. I’m all giggly and nervous and I’m like, “I wanna show you something!” 

I spin around and pull my hair back off my ear and show him my tattoo. He - I kid you not - screams over the music playing. “NO SHIT!” I nod and give him this giant smile. “That’s my handwriting!!!” Yes it is you big, beautiful man. “That’s awesome!” I’m in fuckin euphoria and I don’t even feel him lean against my head when Chris snaps the photo. I have no idea if I even looked into the camera at this point. I’m praying to God I did and as I leave, Jared gives me a little pat on the back and when I turn around, he’s still smiling at me. “Thanks so much!” I get a wink. I GET A MOTHERFUCKING JARED PADALECKI WINK I AM SIMULTANEOUSLY LIVING AND DYING. (the next person in line was already next to him while this is all happening, LOL)

I practically skip out of the room but there are no tears. How did I do this??? This man makes me so fucking happy I didn’t even cry??? Jared is my savior. That’s it. 

Part Four: 

Jim Beaver. What an adorable father-like man.

I’m thoroughly convinced he’s drunk when he comes on stage. Jim Beaver danced. Like... heavy footwork, light on his toes danced. He’s holding a coke can and I can pretty much guarantee it wasn’t just soda in that can. 

I don’t remember much of his panel but the first thing he said was, “Hey idjits!” 

A fan asked him to say balls. It was... kind of awesome. 

A young girl came up to the mic to ask a question. He called her on stage and knelt down at her eye level. “Is that all you see???” She laughed. She has the same name as his daughter. They’re spelled the same way. “Are you my kid?? How weird would that be if my kid came all the way here and I didn’t know it. I didn’t buy her a plane ticket, I know that!” She asks her question (which I forget because I suck) and after he answers, he hugs her and sends her back off the stage. 

Part Five: 

J2 main panel. Boys come running down the center aisle through the crowd. Pretty convinced their body guards/handlers hate them lmao.

I’m not going to go through every question like I did for the gold panel. Jared and Jensen are perfect. That’s just about all you need to know. 

Jared’s pretty sure he’s going to get in trouble for jumping. His back has been hurting. “The medicine, it works!” 

It’s a glorious Sunday because “Dallas hasn’t played yet.”

Jared’s pretty sure turning 35 makes everything stop working.

Jim Beaver walks by in the glass bridge. Jared has the crowd yell “come back!” 

Jensen thanks football fans for giving up opening day to be at the convention. Says it’s hard not to be in front of a tv on the first football Sunday. Terrible towels come out.

Jared compares having three kids to “drowning... and then someone throws you three kids.” Jensen originally only wanted one kid, but Danneel wanted three. They compromised on a second pregnancy. ... “You always find a way to get what you want, don’t you, ladies?”

Jensen apologizes for having to leave the J2 photo ops earlier in the day because Danneel had called him multiple times. He thought something was really wrong. When he called back, she asked if he could FaceTime quickly. Arrow was saying “dada.” “Unfortunately, it was our plumber that was there...”

If I had been playing the SPN Con drinking game I would’ve been wasted the entire weekend. Good Lord. 

Jensen’s favorite episode to film was Baby. Jared’s favorites include episodes like Baby, French Mistake, Changing Channels, and Hollywood Babylon. It was the first time they were allowed to make fun of themselves and the industry. After filming Hollywood Babylon, they convinced the crew to give them the bigger trailers since they were already on set. 

Working with kids depends on their parents.

Jared mentions GameBoy. Jensen has a moment like dude you’re so old why are you bringing up GameBoy. It becomes a running joke throughout the panel. 

“Does your face hurt, Jensen?? Because it’s killin’ me!” ... dorks. 

They turn off Sam and Dean when they go back to their real lives. It’s easy for them at this point to flip the switch of the emotional pain Sam and Dean go through because of their friends and especially their family.

Part Six: AUTOGRAPHS AND THE BINDER (!!!!!!)

Guys guys guys I’m freaking out at this point. I know how much trouble I could get in for giving something to Jared. The handlers are going to hate me. According to a friend, “They’ve kicked people out for less.” hashtag fuck.

Something happens with another fan and the woman announcing rows to head back to autos is wrapped up with other things. I waited so much longer than I should have. It was horrendous and put me that much more on edge. 

Finally my row is called. I’m only in the fourth row. Why did it take this long. 

Steve Miller Band is playing from Jared’s phone onto a bluetooth speaker while I’m standing in line. When I get to him, it’s Fly Like An Eagle.

“How’re you, sweetheart?” *dies* He signs my book. “Did you read it?” I nod and say yes, of course. “And...?!” I told him I loved it and I thought it was very brave of him to share as much and as honestly as he did. He smiles and then I bring up the binder. 

Me: “I actually have something to give to you, and I know it could get me in a lot of crap for doing it this way. This is a project I put together. It’s letters from me and a lot of my friends because we just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done and let you know how much you mean to us. I don’t expect you to read them all, there’s a lot of them in there.” J: “I do like to read! *he’s flipping through them, paging to see just how many there are* No way! Damn girl!!!” Me: “It’s just something we did for you.” J: “Thank you. Thank you very much. Please pass on my gratitude to whoever sent you a letter.” Me: “I will, thank you!!!” J: “Thank you.” AND THE FREAKIN’ SMILE OMG. 

I don’t know how I lived. I don’t know how me and my shaky knees made it to Jensen’s autograph line but I did and he is such a sweetheart, my goodness. 

I slipped Jensen my book and he was just so tired omg it’s so sad and adorable. He signed the wrong page of my FDEWB book because sleeeepy. 

He slid it across the table to me and I thanked him for everything. He said “You’re welcome.” And patted the back of my hand and again, *i die*

THUS CONCLUDES MY FIRST EVER CON WEEKEND MY LIFE HAS BEEN MADE AND JARED HAS THE LETTERS AND MY SHIRT /STILL/ SMELLS LIKE HIM.

[daeny]

Fallen.

Summary: To fill in the time gaps between when they were flying to the wall, to the moment when Jon wakes up and finds Dany beside him.

Drogon and Rhaegal had cried all the way back to the wall. They were miserable, and their quiet screeches had made it obvious.

In her mind, Dany willed Drogon to reign it in. She knew he called for his fallen brother, for her fallen child, but she could not bear it. No, not here, not now, she could not afford to break down. Viserion had fallen with a spray of deep red blood, that coated the white of the snow. Earlier in their flight, she had noticed a single drop of blood on her coat, and had felt sick to her stomach.

Instead, she thought of Jon.

Surprisingly, that line of thought wasn’t any better. Her stomach rolled at the though of him, of the fallen King in the North.

She could not get either death out of her mind, and so she cleared it.

If I look back, I am lost. She chanted in her head. But hadn’t she decided to look back in order to go forward? No, now was not the time for that. Now, she needed the familiar mantra to calm her as her hands shook. She needed to steady herself to steady Drogon, who was so sensitive to her emotions, and was starting to make it known to the men behind her.

When they arrived at the wall, Drogon landed on top of it. The men slid off, wary of the giant beast. They left to carry the wight to her boat, but Dany did not follow. As Drogon took back off into the sky, to circle it alongside Rhaegal, Dany moved to watch the scenery beyond.

Somewhere out there, was Jon, dead -- or alive, if she dared to hope. There was something inside of her unwilling to let go.

Rhaegal cried out, his voice like a knife in the gut to her. She gasped, holding a hand to her stomach.

It had been a fool’s errand, going beyond the wall, that much she knew. But because of it she had finally seen the threat against them herself, and suddenly everything else seemed so very unimportant. How could she be Queen if there was no kingdom to rule, no wheel to break?

Rhaegal screeched once more, the sound equal parts desperate and distressed, and once again emotion overcame her. It was too much.

Jorah approached from behind her.

“It’s time to go, Your Grace.”

“A bit longer.” She insisted, unwilling to give up on him.

Jorah turned to leave. Drogon screeched as he searched over the trees. She scanned the horizon once more, but no one was there. No one was coming. It was time to go.

Dany turned to follow Jorah. Her eyes stung as she willed the tears underneath the surface away, the icy air biting at her face. She welcome the cold, the flakes of snow that fell in her hair -- one last tribute to him.

And then the horn blew.

She turned around, a gasp escaping her lips, hardly daring to believe. She rushed passed Jorah, reaching the edge of the wall once again to desperately scan the horizon. Finally her eyes located it -- a lone horse quickly making its way to the safety beyond the wall, with a black figure unconscious on the back of it.

Jon.

She inhaled shakily, hardly daring to believe.

“Your Grace..?” He prompted, but she could barely hear him. She already had began her way to the elevator.

The elevator jerked as it began to lower. Dany could feel Jorah’s worried eyes on her, but she ignored him in favor of watch the horizon lower. She brought a hand to her heart as it raced, her breathing unsteady.

Jon Snow had been dragged underneath the ice, into the freezing depths of the lake by wights. There was no way he was alive, no way he could have survived the cold.

The elevator jerked once more as it reached it’s destination, and Dany ripped from its confinement, hurrying her way to the gate as it rose up in the distance. Men were stationed there, Ser Davos included, torches in hand, and ready to receive. The horse nickered as he trotted past, and immediately Davos pulled the man off the back. From the look on his face, Dany knew. She finally approached them, and shook as she saw the frozen form of Jon Snow in the elder man’s arms.

She heard Jorah’s footsteps crunching on the snow behind her.

“Is he alive?” Jorah asked, passing her to bend by Davos.

“Yes, but barely. We need to get him to the boat -- quick!”

Dany followed beside the men as the carried Jon to her ship. She was silent, hardly daring to breathe, unsure what it all meant. The clamored aboard and quickly rushed Jon to below the deck, to a free room. Dany stood by the wall, eyes wide and lips parted as Davos ripped open Jon’s clothes. They were stiff and frozen, and he struggled to free him.

As soon as Jon’s chest was bared, Dany gasped, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes again as they widened. Ugly, deep knife wounds marred the tight skin of his abs. She didn’t know much about medicine or healing, but she knew just from the sight of them that they had been too deep for him to have survived.

“He took a knife in the heart for his people!”

Davos’ words echoed in her head for the millionth time since she had first heard him. Jon had insisted they were a figure of speech, but the scars proved otherwise.

Davos desperately tended to his king, with the devotion of a father. Men fluttered in and out of the rooms. They were yelling, fetching supplies, worrying, but all Dany could do was stand and stare, for how long she didn’t know.

“Khaleesi...”

Dany jumped, broken out of her trance. For the first time, her eyes left Jon as they met with Jorah’s.

“Khaleesi, he should be out for a while. You are not needed here. You should get some rest.” His voice was calm, soothing. Jorah’s voice had always been a source of comfort and reassurance for her, but she was finding that at that moment it provided very little.

Her eyes broke the contact and seeked Jon once again. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing, chapped lips parted. She swallowed.

“I will stay here a little while longer.” She announced.

“But--”

“You should get some rest yourself. You were out in the wilderness longer than I was.” She interrupted him, effectively ending the conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod his head as he left the room.

Davos was the only one left, sitting on the bed as he cared for Jon.

Daenerys walked to the other side, and sat in a free chair. Her eyes scanned him, and she felt choked up all of a sudden. She observed the torn up skin around his scars once more, and felt a deep sadness in her soul.

“Ser Davos, tell me...” She started, not breaking her eyes away from Jon.

She heard the shifting of material as he look at her.

“What did you mean before when you said... he took a knife in the heart for his people?”

Davos sighed, looking back to his King. Jon would not like it if he told the Dragon Queen what happened, but now she had seen. It was inevitable.

And so he began, from the very beginning of Jon Snow’s story.

Dany didn’t leave Jon’s room for days, against the worries of Jorah. Even after Ser Davos had left himself. Others came and went to visit. Her food was brought to her. She left once, to change her clothes, to change out of the jacket with Viserion’s blood, and try to wash up a bit. Soon after, she returned to his side.

She did not think about anything besides Jon -- not of Viserion, not of her dragons, not of Cersei, not of the Night King and his army. Only Jon. She felt desperate as she clung to him in her mind, as though he were her life line.

Jon’s breathing eventually evened out, and she found comfort it in. The sounds of his sleep soothed her, more than Jorah’s voice ever had. Unable to help herself, she traced a hesitant finger on his hand before pulling away.

Jon began to stir. He swallowed dryly as his eyes began to crack open and adjust, and finally, found her face.

And just like that, the walls she built up around herself were destroyed, and once again everything felt so very real. This time, she could not stop the tears that stung behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was husky from limited use.

She shook her head, feeling her face pinch as she tried her hardest not to cry. The shifting of fabric was heard, and suddenly he took ahold of her hand, bringing it to him. It was warm and callused, and she was overwhelmed with emotion as he began to rub circles on it with his thumb.

There, she pledged to defeat the Night King with him -- together.

There, he proclaimed her as his Queen, and to bend the knee.

There, something changed between the two of them. And she knew, in the back of her mind, nothing would ever be the same anymore.