#I mean he’s beautiful lady too what am I saying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 months ago

Text

But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 4 months ago

Text

— LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — When Lord Tyrell organizes a huge tournament, the rumour has it that the winner might get his eldest daughter's hand in marriage. When she finds out that certain twins are not playing fair and are scheming together with her father to win, she finds herself a champion she wants to succeed instead – Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was sent by his father to win the tournament.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. Although I am not sure if we have even seen them in House of The Dragon, so they can literally look like anything...? 🤔 Thank you so much for reading my last fic with Gwayne and leaving lovely comments and messages! 🌹 It inspired me to write for him again and I already have more ideas for him and a Tyrell Lady Wife (although I don't think the fics will be connected, so they can be read separately). For some reason it makes SO MUCH SENSE to me for Gwayne to have a wife from Highgarden! Some sexual things are mentioned here but there is no actual smut, so I didn't put the warnings. 😉

WORD COUNT — 5,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

Beautiful courtyards of Highgarden were filled with tents and knights. The sound of horses and clinging armour reached your ears as you were taking a stroll between the tents – against your father’s wish. He didn’t want you to walk freely around all those knights but you had your own guards and your curiosity had no match because you knew perfectly well what that expensive and flashy tournament was about.

You were in the right age to marry – some would say the age was more than right, too right even. You were Lord Tyrell’s eldest daughter and out of all the three sisters, you were the only one who still remained unmarried. The reasons behind that were two. First of all, you were a picky and proud Lady. Second of all, you didn’t want to leave Highgarden and The Reach.

Your father hoped that your marriage would create a powerful alliance and as a daughter of The Lord Paramount of the Reach and The Warden of the South, you were quite a catch for your suitors. Walking amongst them, you saw them turning around and staring at you with smirks. You were the only Lady around and your pale green dress was showing off just enough of your virtues in a typical Highgarden fashion. There were golden roses in your hair and golden eyeshadow on your eyelids as you were all dolled up for the first day of the tournament.

You took a turn around the Lannister tent and you hissed at the sight of your father. Thankfully, he was not looking in your direction and you managed to hide behind your guards but you ordered them to stand still. You wondered why your father was even by the Lannister tent. Talking so openly to one of the knights participating in the tournament was a clear favouritism.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell, your support means a lot,” Lord Lannister said and you tried to see him better from between your guards’ shoulders. You didn’t like him at all since arrogance was written all over his face.

“It is no secret for all the men here that I would like you to win. It is a formality,” your father lowered his voice. “An alliance between such big houses… It would make us both stronger,” he put his arm around The Lannister. “But I liked the idea of the tournament. It has splendour, don’t you think? I like to show off,” you father grinned.

“As I said before, I am no knight. My younger twin brother is,” Lord Lannister said and your father looked around before shushing him and they both entered the tent.

Curiously, with furrowed brow, you peeked inside the tent despite your guards’ protests. And you nearly gasped at the sight of another man inside who was being prepared for the tournament as a squire was putting his armour on. He looked identical to the man your father was talking to.

“My brother, Ser Tyland, will pretend to be me during the tournament. No one will know,” Lord Lannister told your father and your father nodded at that. “I will sit and watch, pretending to be him. I will be criticising his techniques out loud just like a real knight would criticise his foolish brother who takes part in a tournament without being a knight,” he explained, very proud of himself.

He wouldn’t be the only man who wanted to take part in this tournament without the title of the knight. After all, everyone was aware that the prize was your hand in marriage and you didn’t necessarily need a knight. There were lots of common Lords joining the tournament but they were all honest with their intentions. Not only Lord Jason Lannister had your father’s favouritism but he also was planning to obviously cheat by using his brother.

It made you angry as you carefully took a step back and nodded at your guards to follow you down the path. It seemed like the whole tournament was just a show and a theatre play – you were no longer excited since the end result seemed to be fixed. You would be sent to Lannisport to marry that annoying and arrogant Lord Jason Lannister. Tears filled your eyes and you didn’t even care about your makeup anymore since you no longer longed for the tournament to begin.

You walked past the greenest tent around and saw a man in auburn hair washing his face outside. He noticed your staring and looked up with a dashing smile. He recognised you immediately from the portraits and your clothes. Also, what other Lady would dare to take a walk here? Only the one for whom the tournament was taking place.

“Lady Tyrell,” he bowed his head but his blue eyes were still on you.

You sniffled your tears back and straightened yourself.

“Lord…?” You asked and turned your head to see the banner on the tent. “Lord Hightower? No, that cannot be. Lord Hightower is in King’s Landing, is he not? And he is much older. He is The Hand of The King Viserys,” you tilted your head a little.

“You mean Otto Hightower, my Lady,” the man nodded with a smile as he approached you. His armour wasn’t fully on yet and you could see his shirt slightly open. “I am his eldest son, Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he introduced himself and reached his hand out.

After a while of hesitation, you allowed him to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower. You are a brother to our Queen Alicent! Are you to inherit Oldtown after your father’s death?” You asked.

“That is correct, My Lady,” he nodded and straightened his back.

You hummed to yourself. Oldtown was in The Reach and it was the second largest and most populated city in the Seven Kingdoms. To get there from Highgarden, a horse needed around ten days down the Roseroad. You had been there before a few times with your parents but you had never met Ser Gwayne before.

You looked him up and down. He had a cocky grin on his face but there was something about him that you actually quite liked – especially compared to Lord Jason Lannister. Ser Gwayne seemed to be confident but in a different, less exasperating way.

“Did your father encourage you to take part in this tournament, Ser Gwayne?” You asked him as you raised an eyebrow at him. “I do believe he is known for being an ambitious man.”

“Yes, my father insisted on me taking part,” Ser Gwayne admitted. “But I do not mind it myself.”

You nodded at that. Well, a union between your houses seemed to be right. You were both from The Reach and perhaps The Tyrells were more significant but The Hightowers were a real power, especially now. Sadly, your father seemed to be fixated on that whole idea of you marrying a Lannister.

Unless… Unless you would interfere somehow.

Your silence was interpreted by Ser Gwayne as a sign of exhaustion or boredom, though. He nodded his head and took a step back.

“It was nice to meet you before the tournament, my Lady,” he bowed his head. “I know there are dozens of knights around but, please, do remember about me while choosing your champion, I humbly ask,” he gave you one more dashing smile before walking inside his tent.

As a Lady for whom the tournament was taking place, you had the right to choose your champion. A man you favoured. Although, since the unofficial prize was your hand in marriage, it would be very awkward for a man who was not your champion to win. You assumed that your father would try to force you to choose Lord Jason Lannister.

And you had been right. Now, when you were holding a golden rose prepared for this occasion as all the knights were standing in front of you and your family in the audience, your father squeezed you by your elbow. He leaned in to whisper into your ear:

“You shall give the rose to Lord Jason Lannister and name him your champion,” he said with a fake smile before moving away.

You swallowed thickly and took a step ahead to be able to reach the man you would choose. You glanced at The Lannister man on the horse – Tyland, pretending to be Jason. And in the audience nearby you there he sat – Jason, pretending to be Tyland. Your eyes met for a second and he grinned at you confidently although he had no idea you were aware of his plan.

You searched for a different pair of eyes now, amongst all the knights. And then you found them, the blue ones. His armour had beautiful ornaments and even his horse was armoured. It all looked so elegant and you smiled at the sight.

You bit on your lower lip. But was he a good knight? Did he actually stand a chance to win?

Well, you were about to find out.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you took a few steps to the right to be closer to him as he commanded his horse to take a few steps ahead. “I choose you to be my champion,” you smiled at him and leaned in to hand him the golden rose.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, it is an honour,” he bowed his head and you saw in his eyes that he was quite surprised that you had named him amongst all the men your champion. He took the rose from you carefully and pinned it to his armour before closing his helmet and returning to the other knights.

You took a deep breath in before walking away to take your seat. Your father’s burning gaze was nearly painful but your mother kept smiling, unaware of the schemings.

“That’s Otto Hightower’s eldest son. The Queen is his sister,” your mother babbled to your father. “Our daughter has chosen wisely,” she smiled at you. “And he’s handsome and quite young.”

Your father ignored her words and gave you a deadly glare instead but you only huffed and walked away, locking your eyes with Lord Jason again. The real one, sitting in the audience. He was not grinning anymore.

Thankfully, Ser Gwayne turned out to be an excellent knight. Sadly, so was Ser Tyland Lannister, pretending to be his brother Lord Jason.

On the second day of the tournament, they already got rid of most of their opponents as they defeated them in combat. Some of the knights were seriously wounded.

On the third day it was already known that the last duel would be between Ser Gwayne and Ser Tyland. Everyone was taking bets and your father was gritting his teeth.

All this time, you were carefully watched by him and you had no opportunity to speak to any of the men taking part in the tournament. But on the night before the last, fourth, day when the final duel would take place, your father had thrown a feast, during which you were approached by Ser Jason Lannister.

Or Ser Tyland. Were they pretending to be each other during feasts as well? You were tempted to ask but you had no courage to do so.

“Lady Tyrell, there should be songs about your beauty,” he bowed his head and you bowed down.

“Lord Lannister,” you mumbled out, uninterested. “Why aren’t you busy writing them then?”

Your mother looked at you with terror in her eyes but you ignored her.

“Oh, believe me, I do not have time for such frivolities although I wish I had. However, my duties in Lannisport are many. My treasure is full and I shall spoil you with my goods when you are my Lady Wife,” he grinned at you, luring you with his wealth.

“You sound so sure that you’re going to win, my Lord,” you pointed out.

“Oh, I am sure. Ever since you named that Hightower knight your champion, I am determined to show him his place. But I hold no resentment towards you for your choice. I do realise that you, women from The Reach, like to tease,” he winked at you and you had to pretend his words were not an insult. Even your mother gasped a little at his boldness.

“I cannot believe you would spoil me with your wealth for nothing in return, my Lord,” you raised an eyebrow, curious of the response.

“Well, of course not. Like every husband I want my wife to be obedient, easy on the eye and give me many, healthy children,” he informed you. “Sons, I mean,” he fixed himself. That arrogant smirk was still on his face.

“I think your father is calling us,” your mother saved the day as she quickly took you by the arm and excused you both to walk you away from Lord Jason. “Oh, what an insufferable man! Sadly, your father seems to be fixated on the idea of you marrying him. And you know, dear (Y/N), after all the matches you had dismissed in the past… You just can’t say no now. Especially at your age,” she looked at you sternly, but still worried.

You didn’t answer that. You simply nodded your head and walked away to go outside and catch a breath.

You kept walking ahead of you, leaving the noise of the party behind you. You wanted to be alone and despite the darkness, you knew where you were going because you knew this garden better than yourself.

You entered the maze to hide in your favourite spot but after a while you heard unfamiliar steps behind you. You gasped and turned around to see a male silhouette, which caused a shiver go down your spine. If something happened to you now, unguarded and with no one to rescue if you called for help… You didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

“That is only me, my Lady,” you heard a familiar voice and the man took a few steps ahead. It was Ser Gwayne Hightower, smiling at you.

“Ser Gwayne!” You pretended to sigh with relief but the truth was that you didn’t trust him either. You trusted no man who was creeping up on a Lady like that. “We shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone,” you pointed out.

“Forgive me, I saw you running away and quite upset. I wanted to make sure nothing bad would happen to you as you wandered off from the crowd without any guards following you,” he lowered his voice as he approached you.

You swallowed thickly. He was right in front of you and behind you there was a tall live-fence that was making it impossible to escape. As he leaned in, his auburn hair fell onto his face and you felt it tickling your cheeks. That close he was.

“How chivalrous of you,” you breathed out, starting to feel dizzy. You had never been so close with a man.

He looked down, his gaze fixated on your tight, revealing dress. Your breasts were squeezed under the silky golden fabric.

“What if I don’t win tomorrow?” He asked as he lifted his eyes up again to meet yours. “Lord Jason is surprisingly good, especially for a man who is not a knight.”

“It’s because it’s not him,” you confessed with a heavy sigh and Ser Gwayne furrowed his brow at you.

“Are you suggesting that…?”

“I am not suggesting, Ser. It is true. I know from the very beginning, I have overheard them talking to my father. My father wants me to marry Lord Jason Lannister and this tournament is nothing but a show-off. He was angry at me for choosing you as my champion,” you told him.

Ser Gwayne seemed to be confused as he took a step back and you surprised yourself because you wanted him close again.

“That is… Unhonourable and disrespectful,” he pointed out. “Do you wish for Lord Jason to win as well, my Lady?” He looked at you, intensely.

“No! Why would I choose you as my champion then, Ser?” You shook your head, desperate to make him believe you.

“To toy with me, perhaps. Or to tease Lord Lannister,” Ser Gwayne pointed out.

“I do not wish to have anything in common with that man,” you huffed.

“And me? You do not know me, do you, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne smirked as he leaned in again, his nose nearly brushing yours as he put his right hand on the live-fence above you. You felt so small underneath him suddenly.

“What do you expect from a wife, Ser Gwayne?” You asked, swallowing a lump in your throat and he looked confused at that question as if it was a stupid thing to ask.

“Loyalty, of course,” he answered.

“And that’s it?” Now you were the surprised one. “What about children?”

“Well, it would be nice to have them, don’t you think, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and rubbed your nose with his.

“What if I am flawed like my mother and I can give you only daughters?” You bit on your lower lip, slowly getting drunk at the feeling of having him so close.

“Then we shall make them all great ladies of great houses. My sister is The Queen. Us, Hightowers, we are ambitious,” he told you. “And I have many younger brothers who can produce their male heirs. The future of my family is safe whatever I do,” he assured you and raised his other hand to caress your cheek with his fingertips.

At first, you got startled at his touch as if it was causing you pain because you were not used to being touched like this by a male hand. But then, after a short while, you gave in and hummed to yourself, making him smirk.

You leaned back onto the live-fence and arched your back, connecting your crotch with his. You had no idea what made you do that… It was as if your instincts were telling you what to do. And it felt good.

“Don’t,” Gwayne scolded you and took a step back as you whined.

“Aren’t you here to claim me just in case you lose the duel tomorrow?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heating up. You couldn’t believe the boldness of your own words.

Lord Lannister had been right about the women from The Reach, apparently.

“Perhaps you should have not made me your champion, Lady Tyrell, if you think so lowly of me,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head and turned around to walk away, leaving you alone; confused and full of embarrassment.

One thing was certain – he was messing with your head. You couldn’t stop thinking of him all night long, touching yourself to the thoughts of him standing so close, to the memory of his touch and his voice.

You would rather die than marry Lord Jason Lannister. Any attempt to imagine anyone else other than Ser Gwayne touching you, was making you physically sick.

You watched with fear, clenching your fists on the railing and leaning down to see better although, at the same time, you didn’t want to see; you were that scared.

You knew that people had been betting on who would win this combat. And more people had bet on The Lannister. Your eyes followed the golden rose attached to Ser Gwayne’s armour, though. You only wanted to keep looking at him as you prayed to the gods old and new for his victory.

The combat was fierce and long. Both of the horses got hurt and taken away and the two opponents were standing face-to-face now, having to duel with their swords on the ground.

Lord Jason Lannister – the real one, the one in the audience – stood up and clenched his fists on the railing, too, as he watched his twin brother.

“Come on!” He yelled and that was when the other Lannister struck Ser Gwayne down. “Yes! That’s right!” He cheered alongside the audience. Then, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Ser Gwayne!” You exclaimed in a high-pitched, scared voice.

To your relief, your champion stood up after taking the blow and you clenched your fists even tiger around the railing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the wood with your hands.

After a few more attempts to strike each other down, both opponents were roaring with frustration. And then you spotted Ser Gwayne taking his helmet off and throwing it aside as people gasped.

Was he insane? You had been thinking that he was a rational man but apparently much less than you expected.

He looked up at you and nodded his head as the wind ruffled his auburn hair a little. You had to admit that he was presenting himself very handsome and you were aware that the helmet was limiting his view during combat but it was still very risky.

When you nodded back, he went back to the fight. His strikes and blows were fast and determined as if the fight was to death. You held your breath whenever he would get a punch or a strike since he was wearing no helmet. However, he seemed to be doing much better now.

Eventually, The Lannister was laying down and not standing up for quite a long time now as Ser Gwayne spat some blood out and looked up again – his face covered in blood and a few bruises but other than that, he was fine.

Your father stood up, carefully, before walking up to you to see with his own eyes. He hesitated and froze instead of announcing the winner and the whole audience was now looking at him.

“You shall announce my champion the winner,” you reminded him and he swallowed thickly.

“I… I announce Ser Gwayne Hightower the winner of this tournament. Congratulations!” He exclaimed and turned around this very instant to sit back down on his chair.

“You fought bravely, Ser Tyland,” Ser Gwayne helped his opponent to stand up as everyone froze at his words. “Oh, Lord Jason, do forgive me,” he nodded at him with a smirk before leaving the field.

Your heart picked up its pace and you couldn’t help a big grin. You glanced at The Lannister in the audience and he gave you a very unpleasant look this time. You couldn’t blame him, really. Ser Gwayne’s little mistake would make people gossip about The Lannisters cheating in the tournament. It was bringing you lots of satisfaction.

You were about to excitedly leave your parents’ side, when your father grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” He asked, harshly.

“To see my champion!” You answered him.

“Absolutely not,” your father shook his head. “You are coming with me to meet with The Lannister brothers,” he told you and both you and your mother widened your eyes at him.

“Father… Ser Gwayne has won the tournament… Fairly,” you pointed out.

“You said that the winner would have (Y/N)’ hand in marriage,” your mother reminded him.

“It was never officially announced, was it?” He barked at the both of you. “It was just a rumour.”

“Do you want to enrage The Hand of The King by disrespecting his son? Do you want to enrage The Queen herself by disrespecting her brother?” You asked him.

Your father let go of your wrist but he kept staring at you with anger and resentment in his eyes.

“Why did you want The Lannisters to win so badly?” You asked him. “To the point of letting them play it dirty and cheat?” You continued as your mother’s eyes were widening. “I have overheard your conversation on the first day while taking a stroll between the tents like you had forbidden me to,” you admitted. “Why, father?”

“My Lord Husband?” Your mother asked him, enraged by what she had just heard.

“Perhaps you have also overheard the part where I was saying that the tournament is a nice show-off,” he explained.

“I do understand why you threw the tournament. The question was not about that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Wealth,” was all he said after a short silence.

“And… that’s it?” You asked, disappointed.

Your father nodded and looked away.

“Wealth and splendour. An alliance between The Tyrells and The Lannisters would be a powerful one. And their treasure is big,” he added.

You opened your mouth to say something but you had no words.

“Your foolish sisters!” He continued as he raised his voice suddenly. “One married some Dornish lesser Lord and the other went up North to marry a knight in The Vale! The Ladies of House Tyrell! I should have been creating powerful alliances with you, foolish girls, but, no, all of you know better! All of you!” He yelled at you as your mother began to calm him down.

“I would never marry a man without an honour like Lord Jason Lannister,” you only said. “A cheater who plays dirty by using his brother because he knows very well that he would lose his very first combat if it was him down there,” you finished.

Without any other word, you hurried downstairs to run up to Ser Gwayne’s tent. His squire was working on removing his armour off of his body and you approached him to cup his bruised face splashed with blood.

“Ser Gwayne…” You started and then you swallowed thickly and looked down, remembering your encounter with him from the previous evening and the things you had been thinking of at night.

“Lady Tyrell,” he nodded at you with a smile.

“Are you alright, Ser? What has gotten into you to take the helmet off?” You asked as you dared to look up again, right into his blue eyes.

“It was limiting my view,” he answered. “I am alright, my Lady, no need to worry about me.”

“Are you always that irresponsible, Ser?” You asked yet another question. After all, it was important to know if he was supposed to be your Lord Husband.

“Never, my Lady. But it was rather an important combat, was it not?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you smiled widely at him.

You let go of his face as you took a few steps back to let his squire continue his work with the armour.

“I shall leave you now,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head slightly as he watched you walking out of his tent.

There was a feast again on that evening but instead of being with the guests, your father was locked in the library with Ser Gwayne, discussing the unofficial prize of the tournament – your hand in marriage.

You were pacing around the corridor, all dolled up for the party in a pastel pink dress but with no interest to walk down and participate in the celebrations. You were afraid that your father would be rude to Ser Gwayne or scare him off, so you wanted to be around just in case you needed to put out some fire.

At first, you had chosen Ser Gwayne Hightower to be your champion simply to annoy your father and to avoid showing any favours to Lord Jason Lannister. But as the time progressed – especially after last night… – you just wanted to become Ser Gwayne’s wife. You would still live in The Reach and have your mother quite close but at the same time you’d be away from your father and his constant remarks of remaining unmarried despite your age.

Oldtown was an important place on the map of Westeros and you would be The Queen’s sister-in-law. Your father would be foolish to choose Lannister's gold over that honour.

The doors opened finally and you saw your father who was visibly surprised at the sight of you nervously pacing outside the library.

“Are you curious or nosy, dear daughter?” He asked you with his eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps both,” you answered.

“Either way,” your father shrugged, taking a step aside and revealing Ser Gwayne standing behind him, “that is not a problem of mine to deal with anymore,” he finished. “Disciplining her might be a challenge,” he chuckled at Ser Gwayne.

“With all respect, Lord Tyrell, I am not Lady (Y/N)’s father to discipline her,” Ser Gwayne nodded at him and approached you to hold your hands in his as he looked at your face. “We are going to get married, my Lady,” he announced to you and you smiled widely at him, feeling a huge wave of relief washing all over you. Relief, happiness and… excitement.

“When?!” Was all you asked before looking at your father’s face. He seemed to watch you carefully but wasn’t as displeased as before, right after the tournament.

“Ser Gwayne is running Oldtown in the name of his father so he must return there immediately tomorrow morning,” your father answered. “We will escort you to him for the wedding once all the preparations are finished. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!” You whined. “How am I supposed to wait for so long?”

Ser Gwayne chuckled at that and so did your father as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You have been waiting for so long to get married, my dear, you can surely hold off a few weeks more,” your father pointed out.

But he didn’t understand. Now, when you actually wanted to become a wife and found a man worthy enough to be called your Lord Husband, you didn’t want to wait a day longer. However, being whiny about it would only make you look childish and desperate.

“I shall wait then,” you sighed and looked down in defeat.

“And I shall prepare The Hightower for your arrival, my Lady,” Ser Gwayne nodded at you. “What is your favourite colour, may I ask, my Lady, just so I know how to tell my people to decorate your new chambers?”

“It’s green, Ser Gwayne,” you answered with a soft smile. “Green and yellow like the colours of my house.”

“Something tells me we are going to be an excellent match,” Ser Gwayne smirked at your answer with a wink.

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x oc #tyrell oc #lilysfiction

1K notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 4 months ago

Text

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3

to be added to taglist

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones smut #jon snow #jon snow x reader #house stark #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark #sansa stark #catelyn stark #jon snow x you #jon snow x Frey!reader #Robb Stark x Frey!reader #kit harington #richard madden #sacha writes ✍️

1K notes · View notes

raven-dor · 3 months ago

Note

Hi loves!!

I love your gwayne Hightower fics!

Can I have a request of gwayne x Targaryen reader (reader is rhaenyra’s young sis) where they are married for a while now then blood and cheese happened instead of jaeherys, one of their twins got killed 😔 and they’re both devastated

but still reader loves her sister (of course) and knows it’s not her fault

Thank you !! Sorry for any wrong grammars😅

are you satisfied?

In which gwayne hightower and his wife, rhaenyra targaryen’s sister, experience a great tragedy

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader

WARNINGS: death, fighting, typical HOTD violence, like three swear words, 'betrayal'

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

AN: gwayne and the reader's children's names are Visenya and Velarion, and the reader is the rider of Silverwing

Gwayne always loved the fact that his wife’s violet eyes and bright white hair had transferred to their children. He thought his wife was far more comely than he, and he thanked the gods his children hadn’t received his looks.

(Y/N made him swear to stop saying such things, that he was extremely handsome.)

He smiled as his wife played hide and seek with their twins, pretending not to see their obvious hiding spots. She was an amazing mother, he told her as often as he could. His own mother had been cold, choosing court life over raising her children on more than one occasion. He had still loved her dearly, but it seemed, as he grew older, that that love was not returned.

Over time, Gwayne had come to realize that his distaste for King’s Landing stemmed from his mother’s choices. When he had returned for the tourney celebrating the new heir, Prince Baelon, he found a reason to enjoy its high walls. Princess Y/N was a year younger than her sister, but it seemed as if she was much wiser and more deliberate in her decisions.

Because Y/N had loved King’s Landing, he had pretended to enjoy the place. He couldn’t stand to see the look of disappointment stretch across her beautiful face.

So when Alicent sent a letter to Gwayne asking him to bring his family to King’s Landing, he couldn’t refuse. But he so wanted to. Y/N sensed his distaste immediately. She knew him too well, he would say.

His wife hadn’t wanted to return to King’s Landing either, her childhood home turned into that of a prison. Bringing their children, she argued, would put their whole family in danger. Gwayne had agreed, but how could he refuse the Dowager Queen?

Y/N hadn’t supported Ageon’s claim, being very forthcoming with her husband when the topic arose. Gwayne remained stoic, never letting anyone know of his true opinion, not even his dear lady wife. If he had backed Rhaenyra, he reasoned with himself, his family would have been killed, and it wouldn’t have mattered that he was the Queen’s brother. If he told Y/N he supported his nephew, she would surely shun him. Which was almost as horrible as any punishment he could have received.

Gwayne laughed as his son, Valerion, dashed across the room, hiding behind his father’s legs. The young boy looked up at his father, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell her, Father.”

Gwayne nodded, looking back to his wife, who was smirking. “Oh where, I wonder, is my little boy?” She looked over at the curtains, ripping it open. “He is such a clever boy, I am sure I will never find him.”

Valerion giggled, and Y/N whipped around, laughing. “What was that?” She looked to her husband. “Did you hear that, my love?”

Gwayne shook his head, forcing himself to remain stoic. “I believe you are imagining things, my dear.”

Valerion giggled again. “She’ll never find me.”

Y/N practically bit her hand. “I keep hearing his voice…” She tiptoed over, jumping behind Gwayne and tickling their son. “I got you!”

Visenya peeked her head out from under the bed. “Does that mean I win?”

Gwayne let loose a loud laugh, gripping his stomach. “You are the champion, my dear.” He walked over, grabbing her from her hiding spot and spinning her around. “Bravo.”

Y/N sighed, hugging Valerion tightly. Their son squirmed, pushing away from his mother. “Mummy please. I’m grown-” Y/N gasped, looking at her son with fake hurt in her eyes.

“You are too old for embracing your mother now?” She sat him on the floor, pretending to cry. “You are six years old now, I should have known.”

Valerion glared playfully at his mother. “Don’t cry, Mummy.”

“I can’t help it.” She giggled. “Soon you’ll be gone and I will never see you again.”

His eyes widened. “But I don’t want to leave!”

Y/N stopped ‘crying’ and looked down at their son with surprise. “Well, that is good news.” She picked him up, hugging him tightly once more. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I tucked you in then?”

He shook his head. “Can you tell us a story?”

Visenya nodded eagerly. “Please Mother.”

Y/N sighed, like she was contemplating if she was going to tell them a story or not. “Well, if you insist…”

Gwayne smiled, setting Visenya down. “Be good for your mother, you two.” He walked over, kissing Y/N on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, darling.”

The twins looked repulsed, scrunching their noses. Valerion groaned.“Father…”

He looked down, smiling warmly. “One day, your children will make the same noises of disgust at you and your wife, Valerion, and I will remind you of this day.”

Valerion looked disgusted. “I will never marry. I will be free with my dragon, and we will fly across the seven kingdoms.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “If only it were that simple, my sweet boy.” She clapped her hands, ushering the twins out of the room. “Now, time for bed.”

Visenya yelled. “And a story!”

Y/N nodded, shutting the door behind her. “And a story.”

The twins' eyes drooped, but Y/N continued the story, knowing that if she stopped, she would be scolded. “And then Rhaenyra and I boarded our dragons, flew to Dragonstone, and retrieved our brother’s egg from our Uncle.” She smirked. “Your grandfathers were furious.”

Valerion whispered. “Do you miss your sister, Mother?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes tearing up at the thought. “Everyday my boy.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead gently. “Just as you will miss yours one day.”

Visenya laughed. “We will never be apart. I will make sure of it.”

Y/N smiled. “Goodnight children.” She stood up, walking over to her daughter and kissing her forehead. “Sleep well.”

She took one last look at the pair, almost laughing at the fact that they were already asleep. She blew out their candle, shutting the door gently behind her. She had gotten halfway back to her chambers when a child’s scream echoed through the halls.

Her blood curdled, and she whipped around racing back towards their chambers. Pulling her dagger out of its sheath, she pushed their doors open, whispering. “Childre-” Her eyes widened, and she glared, gripping her dagger tighter. “Who are you?”

Two men stood in front of her twin’s beds, rat traps over their shoulders. The taller one turned around and Y/n recognized him immediately as one of the City Watchmen. His eyes widened. “Your Highness.”

She put on a brave face, but her heart was racing. “What are you doing Sergeant?”

The man ignored her, hissing at his accomplice. “This is the wrong room. He wouldn’t want her chi-”

The smaller man interrupted, gesturing back to the Princess. “It’s too late. She’s going to tell.”

Y/N shook her head, whispering so that her children wouldn’t wake up. “I won’t. Just don’t hurt my children, and I swear I won’t.”

The small man ignored her, lowering his dagger towards Valerion’s neck. The Sergeant hissed. “That’s not who he wanted.” Reaching his arm out, he pulled the ‘rat catcher’ away from the bed. The ‘rat catcher’ jumped, and his knife fell out of his hand, plunging into her son’s neck.

Y/N gasped, a hand covering her mouth. The room was silent, none of them moving.

The Sergeant looked panicked. “Your Highness-”

A tear fell, and she looked up at the pair, whispering. “You are going to pay for that.”

She walked forward, raising her dagger and plunging it into the murderer’s neck before either of them had the chance to defend themselves. She later would say that it served them right, they carelessly murdered her son, and so she simply returned the favor.

The Sergeant pushed her away, grabbing his dying accomplice and racing towards the tunnels. She screamed, falling to the floor. Visenya stirred, her eyes opening slowly. “Mummy? What-”

Y/N wiped away her tears, ripping her daughter out of her bed. She shoved Visenya’s face into her neck, whispering soothingly. As soothingly as she could for just witnessing her son’s murder. ”Go back to sleep my love.”

Visenya’s eyes fluttered. “What about-”

“Shh, my dear.” Y/N felt her eyes well up. “Shh.”

Tucking Visenya in on the couch in their shared chambers, Y/N stalked towards their bedroom, her heart beating against her chest. “Gwayne.” She hissed. He stayed asleep. Anger raced through her veins, how could he sleep through this? She shook him harshly, on the verge of yelling. “Wake up.”

He grumbled, rolling over. “What is-” His eyes widened, throwing the covers off as he examined his wife. “You are drenched in blood.”

“Gwayne…” She sobbed, falling to the ground as he watched helplessly. “He’s dead.”

Gwayne felt worried, and sat beside his wife, rubbing circles into her back. “Who is dead, my love?”

“Valerion.” She wailed, throwing herself into her arms as more tears streamed down her face. “Valerion!”

Gwayne’s heart dropped. “What?”

“They-”

“Who?” He grabbed his wife’s arms, eyes piercing into hers. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Some rat catcher and a-” She sobbed again. “A City Watchman.” He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of their room and back toward their children’s chambers. Y/N fought against her husband's hold, still violently sobbing. “No, Gwayne please do not make me go back.”

He stopped, realizing that she had truly seen everything. “My love, we have to. We need-” He choked on a sob he hadn’t known was forming. “We need to be strong for a little longer.”

Without waiting for her response, he pushed the twins’ doors open, their son lying lifelessly in his bed. He let go of Y/N’s hand, racing over to Valerion’s side. He gently pulled the knife from his son’s chest, pushing his bright white hair out of his eyes. “My boy.”

Y/N wailed once more. “Valerion, this isn’t funny, you’ve upset your mother.” His throat felt as if it was closing up. “Valerion, wake up right now.” He felt his son’s throat, finally accepting his death when he felt no pulse. He fell back, staring at the bed. “We need to notify someone.”

“Who?” Y/N cried. “Alicent? My drunken half brother of a king?”

“Anyone in the Keep, Y/N.” He stared at their son. “How did this happen?”

She simply shrugged, climbing up off the floor. “I must leave.”

His head whipped over, staring at his wife in shock. “You are leaving?”

“I will be back, I swear to you.”

“Where are you-”

“Leave it!” She snapped, a rage in her eyes that Gwayne had never seen. He nodded, watching as she walked out of their children’s room and down the hall.

Dragonstone was quiet, Y/N noticed. Of course it was, night still covered its dark walls. She landed Silverwing on the hill above the castle, stalking toward the entrance. “I demand to see my sister.”

The guard laughed. “And you are-”

“Y/N.” Rhaenyra stepped out from the shadows. “What are you doing here?”

“My son has been murdered.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, another sob breaking out. “He’s dead, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra ushered her sister inside, out of the watchful eyes of her family and advisors. Rhaenyra closed her chamber doors, and sat her sister down, kneeling in front of her. “What do you mean-”

“My son has been murdered. That is what I mean.” She glared at the older woman. “Did you-”

“Seven hells, Y/N. Of course not.” She took Y/N’s hands in hers. “Do you really think that I would order the death of a child, let alone my sweet nephew?”

“I just-” Y/N sighed. “I had to make sure.” Taking one last look at her dear sister, she stood, nodding. “I will see myself out.”

Rhaneyra watched as her sister glided across the room. Just as the door opened, she cried out. “I miss you.”

Y/N smiled. “I miss you too.” She’d almost reached the exit of the castle when she felt eyes following her every step. “Iēdrosa hiding isse se shadows, nyke ūndegon. (Still hiding in the shadows, I see.)”

He stepped out, his face taking in the sight of his ‘traitorous’ niece. “Iēdrosa married naejot se hightower orvorta, nyke ūndegon. (Still married to the Hightower cunt, I see.)”

She held her head up high, glaring at her uncle. “I’ll have you know that cunt is a good man. A better man than you will ever be.” Guilt flashed across his face, but she continued. “I don’t appreciate your insinuation that I support the usurper that is my half brother, and if you repeat that mistake again, you will have more than my words attacking you.” She nodded, walking past him. “Goodbye, Daemon.”

Visenya had been wailing for days. Wailing over the death of her brother, and wailing over the fact that neither of her parents could look at her without tearing up. The couple sat beside each other at dinner, scarcely eating or speaking. Alicent sighed. “It does your daughter no good if you die of hunger.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, tilting her head, hoping she had just misheard. “What did you just-”

Gwayne grabbed her hand tightly under the table, signaling to not pick a fight. “Quite right, sister.”

Alicent smiled. “We are very fortunate.”

Y/N fought against her impulse to pull her dagger out and commit a massacre. “How so?”

“That they had the children’s rooms confused.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She must have been hallucinating. “Excuse me?”

“I only meant it would have been quite catastrophic if the assassins had found Jaehaerys instead of Velarion.”

Y/N smiled, and she could tell it had unnerved Alicent. “Yes, because my son is much less important than the heir to the throne. Thank the gods it was Velarion instead of Jaehaerys.”

Gwayne stilled, setting his silverware down. Alicent’s cheeks flushed. “I hope I did not upset you.”

Y/N laughed, so loudly that the whole room stopped talking, staring at the woman drowning in her grief. “Of course not. You began upsetting me twenty years ago.”

Aegon smiled drunkenly. “Sister-”

“You are no brother of mine, Aegon. So do not start acting it because of this little spat.” She pushed her chair out, making an announcement. “We will be leaving at first light. This has been, by far, the worst encounter I have ever had with King’s Landing.”

Gwayne raced after his wife, not even bothering to say goodbye to his family. “Y/N-”

“I cannot believe you.”

“What?”

“You just sat there, Gwayne.” She seethed, practically running down the halls. “Our son is dead, and you sat there and let your sister act as if it was a minor loss. An accident.”

“My love-”

“Don’t!” She snapped. “I am taking Visenya, and we are going to Dragonstone.” She stopped outside their chambers, whispering so that their guards would not hear. “I do not care where you go, but I do not wish to ever see your face again.”

He sighed, walking into their room after her. “Y/N-”

“Gwayne, that is the end of our discussion-”

“No it is not!” He yelled. “I am grieving as well. You do not get to pretend I am not.”

“Then show it!” She yelled back. “You have been silent for days. You do not defend me at dinner, you do not defend me at all. You sit there like you are dead yourself.” She scoffed. “You might as well be.”

Gwayne was practically glowering. “Do not say things you do not mean, wife.”

“I will say-”

“Mummy?” The couple looked down, realizing they had just fought loudly in front of their daughter. Y/N crouched down, opening her arms.

“Come here, my love.”

Visenya faltered, and Gwayne watched as Y/N cracked, standing up. She barely spared a glance at Gwayne. “I will be sleeping in my own chambers tonight.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She scoffed. “I didn’t realize you controlled me, my lord.”

He widened his eyes, gesturing down to their daughter who was watching with wide watery eyes. “Y/N, do me this one kindness.”

“Gwayne, I need to be alone.” She stepped back, walking towards her secret exit when his hand wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling her back. His breath hit her neck as he whispered. “Sleep in our bed. I will stand watch, and we will leave at first light for Dragonstone.” She turned around, her eyes wide. He looked determined, and in that moment, Y/N understood that he would do anything to keep them together. Her heart skipped as he bore his soul to hers, his voice heavy. “I will not have my family thrown into chaos and ruin.”

Her eyes were teary as she whispered. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Go to bed.” He turned back to their daughter, carrying her over to her makeshift bed. Visenya’s sweet voice could be heard whispering to her father. “Did I upset Mummy?”

“No my dear.” He kissed her head gently. “Your mother is hurting, as am I. Never forget that we love you dearly.” He tucked her back into bed. “Sleep tight, little one.”

It had been surprisingly easy to escape the Red Keep. Y/N gathered it was because they did not think anyone would want to leave, which made her laugh. Who would want to be held captive in such a place?

Gwayne never understood how Targaryen’s flew dragons like it was as simple as riding a horse. Being this high up horrified him, but his wife and daughter enjoyed it immensely. Visenya giggled as she reached out, grabbing a cloud with her bare hands. “Father, open your eyes!”

Y/N laughed. “Your father is frightened, dear.”

Gwayne scoffed. “I am not. I’m simply-”

“Scared!” Visenya laughed. “I thought knights were supposed to be brave, Father.”

Gwayne gasped, clutching his heart as he forced his eyes open. “Are you calling me a coward, young lady?”

Y/N smiled, forgetting for a moment that their family had been torn apart only four days ago. “Hang on.”

“Hang on?” Gwayne questioned. “Why-”

Silverwing dove, and Gwayne felt the air leave his lungs, clutching onto his wife’s waist. “Seven Hells!”

Y/N laughed, her hair flying in the wind. “Enjoy it, my love!” The great dragon landed roughly on the same hill she had visited days before. Helping down Visenya, she smirked as her husband clambered off of her dragon’s back. “Careful, Gwayne.”

“I am-” His leg caught on the saddle, and he fell backwards, causing his two silver haired beauties to burst into tears. “Do not laugh.”

“It is quite difficult.” Y/N’s violet eyes glittered in the sun. “Come down, we have much to do.”

Y/N held Visenya close to her as they approached her sister and her family. Gwayne trailed behind the two, looking around the room skeptically. Rhaenyra sat tall on her throne. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, sister?”

Y/N bowed deeply. “Your Grace, we come to swear allegiance to you, and ask that you allow us to stay with you on Dragonstone.”

Daemon laughed. “And why would we-”

With one look, Rhaneyra shut Daemon. “That is not necessary, Y/N.” She stood up, embracing her sister tightly. The elder sister looked down, waving at the young girl. “Hello, little one.”

Visenya smiled shyly, clinging to her mother’s form. Y/N laughed, whispering. “Visenya, this is your Aunt Rhaenyra. Say hello.”

Rhaenyra laughed. “Hello, Visenya. You are the spitting image of your mother.”

The young girl blushed, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Mother, what is the meaning of-” A tall, dark-haired young man sauntered in. “Y/N!” He rushed over, hugging her tightly. “How-”

“I was most tired of the 'hospitality' of King’s Landing.” She smirked. “If one could call it that." She stepped back, taking in her grown nephew. "My, you have grown. Last I saw you, you were half your height.”

He scoffed, glaring playfully. “Yes, well…”

Rhaenyra clapped her hands. “Let us show you to your rooms.” She put her arm through her sisters. “You must be exhausted.”

“One moment.” Daemon’s voice rang through the throne room. “What about her traitorous husband?”

“Daemon-”

Y/N glared. “What did I tell you would happen if you said that again?”

Daemon laughed. “I would like to see you-”

Gwayne's auburn hair blocked her view of her uncle, standing in between the two. Y/N smiled. Standing in between two angry Targaryens was a recipe for death, and yet there her husband stood, stoic as ever.

“Please.” He turned to the King Consort. “I know that my family has done nothing but hurt yours…” He spared a look to his wife. “But you must understand that my love for your niece has overcome any loyalty I once had to my family.”

“How can we be sure you will not betray-”

Gwayne hissed. “They are the reason my son is dead. I will never forgive them.”

Daemon nodded. “Very well.”

Gwayne nodded back, turning to his wife. “Let us go rest my love.” He kissed her temple, following after the queen. “I believe we have earned it.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

670 notes · View notes

calisources · 9 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different works of fiction and depict sensual, sexual tension between two people in different scenarios. There are some that are suggestive while others are more detail so this meme is nsft and usft, please tag accordingly. Mentions of jealousy, possessiveness, sex, fantasies are all here. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit.

I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

You're still looking.

You make it hard to look away.

I'm over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, that’s not fair.

If you'd just man up and admit there's something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me.

How long are you going to make me wait?

How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you.

You missed my arrogance almost as much as I missed your impudence, little one.

You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?

We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?

They say the colour of a lady’s lips is an exact match to another region on the body?

You're too soft.

Can we go back to making out now?

You sound jealous.

Then tell me this is what you truly want. Swear you want this more than anything else and I'll never mention it again.

If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.

Tell me how it's done. Do you think she'd like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply in to her eyes?

And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?

You're wet, aren't you?

You drove me mad.

She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,I would have been gentle with you, though.

I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.

I'm all yours to look at, you know.

You need to let me go, darling, before we start something I intend to finish.

Feel free to touch, darling. It's all yours.

. . .I hate you.

Say it again.

Grind it. Nice and fine.

I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he'd give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.

Why shouldn't I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.

Am I supposed to deny, that I find you attractive?

Is that a challenge, Feyre?

Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?

Move with me now.

Touch me anywhere you please.

I want you to make love to me.

Do you know what that truly means?

You do know? You know that I will be inside you and that I will move inside you, until we are both mad from pleasure?

I want you inside me.

You have three minutes to get ready now.

I did dream about you. I didn’t want to, but I did.

What was I doing in your dreams?

Someone is watching us through the window.

All the more reason to put on a good show.

You're not in a position to make demands.

The best things are found in the most secret places.

And you are a beautiful, sexy temptress who is about to be fucked by a man who wants her so desperately he's willing to do anything to have her.

When I'm with a woman, it's not me doing the begging.

You're rubbing yourself all over me. What did you think was going to happen?

I thought you were all about self-control.

I remember how powerful those thighs are.

You are more beautiful than I imagined.

And your skin... Christ, it shimmers like gold.

I'm naked underneath.

Tell me----did it get you off knowing I was watching?

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Please, don’t stop.

Oh, so I shouldn’t? That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?

I am the cruelest man you will ever meet, but, I will make you feel so good, you will not care.

I’ve never been with a man before.

You do bad things to me, Carrie. Very bad things.

And you, Miss, are no lady.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #usft tw #usft meme #smut meme #suggestive tw

1K notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 4 months ago

Text

Seeing Green

Gwayne had enough of you and declared he would not be accompanying you on your travels to the town ever again. How glad you were to know Harwin would in his stead.

bodyguard!Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity ig, im just a girl!reader, angst?, jealousy, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a p2 to seeing red but you dont have to read it to understand whats happening. I have made a next part!

Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings @targs-on-zorses @barbieaemond @arabellasleopardcoat

"GWAYNE!" I stick my head out of the carriage window. I scoff as I watch the armored man walk off, "you can not be serious!"

"Serious?!" he snaps, turning back to me with a raised brow and a tense jaw. He rubs his lips as he storms back towards me. His glare is so grave that I actually lean back into my seat and clench my skirt.

Gwayne stomps his foot on one of the steps up the carriage. A line forms between his brows, "you have WORN me!"

I grow tense as flails his hand around.

"I have done nothing but exact your cumbersome and frivolous commands with patience!" He snaps, "and now that I've met my limit yet you have the gall to ask me if I am being serious!?!"

Gwayne's eyes are wide and clearer than the skies. His pointed stare is piercing and I cannot deflect it as he speaks to me of my unreasonableness. Admittedly, my requests were some meant to annoy him, but I did not expect him to act so acridly. I mean, surely he was accustomed to it by now. Was I truly becoming too much to bear for him?

His face is flushed with rage. I stare at him, unable to speak, for in truth I did not know how to meet his apparently genuine frustration.

"Oh," he scoffs, chuckles bubbling out his throat, "she does not speak, for there is nothing else true to say." He grips the carriage door, "what? Have you realized you do work me worse than your own employed servants? That you ask of me more than what I am required of?"

"But it is my right!" I pipe up, though my voice is still small, "you must accompany me wherever I so wander."

Gwayne's jaw feathers, "I am tasked to protect you from peril and to prevent you from doing the unwise," he steps back, "not to carry your clothes and hang them in your wardrobes!"

I stare at him, dread building in my stomach.

"What?!" he quips, "do you truly not see the brunt of my frustrations?"

"... I do not think it unreasonable to-" I gaps when he closes the door with unnecessary force before storming away.

In truth, the gesture was harsher than it needed to be and bothers me more than it should. There is a tightness to my chest as I slowly open the door and watch the man so readily forsake me. Against myself, my eyes begin to prick with tears.

"Gw-" I shut my mouth at the sound of my voice breaking. I chew my lower lip and take deep breaths to calm myself.

I did not mean to make him cross— not like that. I feel my throat tighten as I replay what just happened. Guilt eats at me more each second and soon salt cascades down my cheeks. I sit there until the coachman knocks and asks if we should away. I dismiss him and tell him I will stay here for a little while.

I don't. It feels like an hour passed of me trying not to cry, crying, and calming myself. I start when someone knocks on my carriage door.

"My Lady Lannister?" a deep voice speaks, making me wipe my face in a panic.

I try to stifle my sniffle and use my skirt to dry my tears.

"Tis Ser Harwin Strong. You cannot leave your carriage here."

I clear my throat, but my voice still betrays me with a crack, "ap-ologies. I will have it m-" but my coachman is not here. I sigh and stare at my lap. My lips wobble as helplessness creeps up on me.

A prolonged moment of silence ensues before the man outside speaks again, "my lady... are you well?"

I huff and concede to simply opening the door.

I wipe my philtrum on my sleeve and feel twice as dreadful as I see the dark haired and bearded man outside my carriage. He is a beauty. His blue eyes narrow in concern, "my lady."

I shake my head and gather my skirts.

He instinctively reaches out a hand to me and assists me as I exit my ride. Once I am stood before him, I realize just how tall and broad he is. His brows tighten as he releases my hand. I offer him a smile, "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I do not have anyone to move the carriage."

Ser Harwin shakes his head, "one of the stable boys can move it." He turns over his shoulder and hollers for someone to do just that. A boy approaches us, nodding politely before climbing up the driver's seat to do what was instructed of him.

My stomach rolls when the towering man looks back at me. His demeanor is starkly juxtaposed to his stature. He ghosts a hand on my shoulder and raises an arm. He leads me off to the side and speaks softly, "is there anything I can assist you with, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I am well."

He nods and clutches his hands once we find ourselves standing just by the entrance of the Keep, "forgive me, but as a guard of the City Watch, it is my duty to uphold justice. I cannot stand idle in the face of trickery."

My brows quirk at his words. I tilt my head, "do you call me a liar, ser?"

"Yes," he answers simply.

My lips part as his brazen admission.

"True, it is not uncommon for one to weep with joy, but I recognize the distress laid upon your brow," he shakes his head, "would it not be simpler for you to say you require nothing of me than to pretend you are well?"

His words make me choke. I feel my eyes begin to fog with tears.

Ser Harwin's face falls. He raises his hands, "forgive me. I only meant-"

"No," I mumble, "you are right. I injure myself! I speak before I think and create inconveniences for entertainment." I scratch my tears away before they can fall. I look up to the man, feeling dread bite at me. I resist my instinct to slip further into my emotions and try to speak as evenly as possible, "the truth is... I had a... disagreement with my ward... we always get into disagreements, but... this time it was visceral."

The man shifts on his leg, "might I ask what the disagreement was over?"

"He says I work him like a dog, that I ask much more than what he ought to do," I sniffle, "and... perhaps it is true," I evade his gaze by turning to the sky. My lips quiver, "but I did not realize my presence was so heavily insufferable." I look back at him, "I am easy on the eyes, am I not?"

The man chuckles softly, "your features are quite comely indeed, Lady Lannister."

I nod once, "that is the only correct response, ser."

A rich chuckle fills the space between us. He hums and raises a hand, "have you expressed your orders were mere reasons to keep his company?"

My expression drops at his words. I laugh but it goes dry when I realize he spoke no jest. "Ser, my ward is Gwayne Hightower. He loathes me just as I loathe him."

"And do you normally weep for your enemies?" he tilts his head.

"I weep because he regards me so cruelly!" I snap in defense, "it is most twisted for one as he to raise his voice and show aggression to one such as I!"

Ser Harwin sighs.

I wipe my philtrum, feeling my body tremble with a mix of emotions.

"What was this errand you needed to be chaperoned to?"

I gulp as I bring my hands to my hips. I debate the sincerity of his words and decide he does not have the face of a man who would use my words against me. I huff, "the tailor's. I was to have a new dress made for me for-"

His brows quirk at my abrupt halt.

I feel blood rush up my neck, but I decide to ignore it and speak with as much scorn as I could muster, "Gwayne's nameday celebration."

I observe him carefully, ready to pounce and pound him if he so wishes to berate me for the honest admission. In truth, I am taken aback by the curtness of his reply. He nods and offers me an arm, "if it pleases you, I can accompany you to the tailor myself. I have finished my patrol and have nothing better to do."

My eyes dart from the curls framing his face to his meaty arm. My lips part as I find the words to say, "would you... rather not rest for the day?"

"My honor would not allow me after beholding a lady in her distress."

I stare at his arm for a few seconds and cautiously take it.

A good while passed until Gwayne returned to the stables to find his irritating lady. When he sees the Lannister carriage parked, he sighs and marches over, preparing himself to meet the rage of the woman that was still sitting inside in protest.

"Will you sleep-" he starts but stops when he opens the door to nothing. He raises a brow and closes the door. His attention falls on the passing servant, "you. Where is the lady of this carriage?"

The man looks at him then the carriage.

"Lady Lannister," Gwayne clarrifies.

He perks in recognition, "the lady Lannister and ser Strong headed to the tailor on horseback."

"On horseback," the knight scoffs in disbelief, "Lady Lannister?" his voice fades into a laugh. And he so enjoys himself laughing for a moment before sighing, "why, I applaud the good ser for his powers of persuasion."

Upon realizing that he no longer needed to be here, Gwayne grins and nods at him, "thank you my good man. Your news has made my day."

With that he walks off and heads to his quarters.

The next day, Gwayne has a spring to his step as he heads down the hall.

I am in the middle of having my hair fixed when I hear a knock on my door. I look at the reflection from the mirror before me, "come in."

I behold Gwayne and his grin as he struts towards my bed. He leaps into it, landing on his chest. He instructs one of my servants to get him a cup of wine. Each of these things would normally be cause to chew him up; all of these combined would make me unleash upon him the wrath due to his impertinence, and yet, I find myself uncaring of his blatant misbehavior. I merely instruct my servant to fetch the sapphire necklace that match my velvet dress and sit tight by my vanity.

Gwayne takes the wine that is served to him and sips before speaking out, "I hear Lord Harwin Strong was he who accompanied you to town yesterday."

I ignore him in lieu of twirling the baby hairs by my ears.

"And on horseback, no less," he takes another sip, "how ever did he get you to ride a horse by yourself?"

"I didn't," I turn to my servant who returns with my jewels, "we rode on the same horse."

Gwayne stills. He scrunches his face at the cup in his hand then looks at me, "what?"

I smile at myself on the mirror as the necklaces is clasped around my neck. I adjust the blue stone that sparkled between my collarbones and admire the look of it.

He sits up from the bed, careful not to spill his drink, "you rode the same horse?"

"Of course we rode the same horse," I roll my eyes, "he is not a fool who expects me to enjoy such sport."

The red haired man raises his brows. He waits for me to expound further, but finds I am distracted by my reflection. He scoffs, sipping again more before saying, "I pity the steed."

I grin at myself, pleased with my image.

"I pity the steed," he repeats, "that had to carry a knight, a brat, and her hundred dresses."

My eyes dart to him. He is already looking at me from the mirror. "He did not ride with me on the way back. He is not cruel like you."

"So he walked?" his forehead curls, "and on the way back, no less." He scoffs once more before drinking again, "well, the tailor is not that far."

I inspect my attire one last time before standing and heading to the bed. Gwayne lifts his eyes; the corner of his lips soon follow. He shifts on his spot and drinks deeply.

"You are dismissed, Hightower."

He licks his lips as his brows furrow, "what?"

I tilt my head and clasp my hands together, "you do so love making sport of me repeating myself."

Gwayne pulls his head back before standing. He lifts his nearly empty cup, "are you saying you— you have no plans for the day?" He purses his lips, "no errands you wish to force upon my being."

I clench my teeth but manage to pull a smile. Gwayne finds such endearment in the forced grins, not that he would ever admit so. I nod in agreement.

"So," he holds his cup with both hands, "I am free to do what I will for the day."

"Even more so to do it as far away from me as possible," I raise my hands before walking towards him to push him out of my room.

The man chuckles as he finishes what is left of his wine. He manages to hand the empty cup to one of the servants just before we both step out of the room. He licks his lips and tilts his head at me.

The smile that spreads on his face makes my stomach roll and I combat it with a glare, "do not wait on me. I will be promenading with a friend."

"Promenade?" he chuckles. The lines on his cheek remain as he raises his brow. He looks me once over, eyes lingering on the sapphire on my décolletage, "and pray tell, who in the Keep has merited the friendship of someone so high-nosed as you?"

"Ser Harwin Strong."

His grin falters.

I do not care to wonder why as I walk off and meet the man I named in the gardens as we had arranged.

Gwayne watches. He is left alone in the corridor. He chuckles to himself and heads off to the library to unwind. The closer he inched to his destination however, the more sour the taste in his mouth became. Before he even comes near the library, he finds himself marching off to look for gods knows what he'll find.

And it seems the gods do want him to find the source of his sourness. As he marched down one stairwell, he heard an unmistakable sound of laughter that made his ears perk. He heads to the hall and looks out the window.

There, he sees a man stood in front of a woman sat upon a bench, both of them giggling and both of them in blue. His eye twitches as the dark haired fool carelessly picks a flower from a bush and offers it to her.

Gwayne finds no relief when she does not take it, for instead it seems she instructed him to place the flower on the side of her hair.

"Ha," he scoffs, pulling away from the window, "promenade, says she? Ha!" Gwayne shakes his head as his feet take him back towards the library, "neither of them are walking. HA!"

Gwayne cannot help the way his hands clench and unclench as he storms off. He scoffs once again, "fucking Strong," the ire in his chest is molten, prickly, and painful as he adds, "fucking Lannister."

924 notes · View notes

divinesolas · 7 months ago

Text

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

882 notes · View notes

ghouldump · 4 months ago

Note

Your fics are amazing!

Lestat and y/n remind me of a scene on what we do in the shadows:

Lestat: i would like to say that i think all marriage is a sham except mine with my darling wife y/n

Reader: ☺️👋

Btw do NOT feel pressured to put out content, this is suppose to be a safe space for creators and i am sure that the rest of the readers feel that way.

Kisses 💋

001

thank you 🥰 your words of encouragement mean so much to me 🩷 i prefer lengthy fics myself and so naturally i like to make my stories a bit long. i know that a few of you guys enjoy my writing and are wondering what is taking so long, so i really appreciate the understanding. i am also posting the requests at the same time, so you guys can have a few new posts to read instead of one. anyways, that so seems like him 😂 i literally came up with a tiny imagine for this 😙

“and what about you two, are you married?” the young woman asked you.

she and her husband were tourists in new orleans, choosing the city for their honeymoon. you spotted the newly wedded couple in the restaurant, they were the perfect meal for the night. although, you found them slightly interesting, forcing lestat to sit through the dull conversation.

“yes, lestat took longer than most, but we’ve been married for what feels like an eternity,” you laughed.

it had been only a few decades since you’d become mrs. de lioncourt, compared to your century of love.

“forgive me, ma chèrie,” lestat said lowly, as he kissed your hand.

“i didn’t grow up with the best example of marriage,” he said, a sly grin on his face.

“that’s a shame, my pa married my mama after only a month of knowing her, they’ve been together for over 30 years,” the husband bragged. you resisted the urge to laugh, watching as lestat went from grinning to frowning in disgust.

“you know what i find shameful? humans and their boresome matrimonies. you have no real reason other than legality burdens and for misogynistic idiots like yourself to have an at-home womb and servant,” lestat told the man, his nose turned up to him.

“that’s quite a harsh thing to say when you’re married yourself,” the young bride told him, furrowing her eyebrows.

“exactly, miss…y/n, was it? you sure have a handful on your hands,” the groomsman laughed, awkwardly.

slowly looking over at you, you smiled as you met his eyes, his fingertips softly brushing against your jaw.

“our marriage is beyond anything you've experienced in your short life, or your insufficient parents, the epitome of all things neither of your insolent brains could ever understand. your marriage is useless, nothing more than a piece of paper, and if you permit her beautiful name to even slip from your thoughts, let alone your tongue again, i will rip out your spine from-

“lestat,” you called his name, he stopped instantly, facing you.

“yes love?” he asked, his eyes softened. over the years, despite being your maker, he found himself willingly under your command, doing any and everything in his power to please you.

“don’t scare them too badly, honey, the blood will change its course, and taste funny,” you told him, your usual soft smile in place.

the couple was by now confused and disturbed, looking around for the safest exit.

“my apologies, ma chèrie,” he shook his head.

“you don't have to apologize, shall we eat?”

“ladies first,” he nodded, as you both bare your teeth, to plunge into your meals.

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv

516 notes · View notes

notsunnyowo · 7 months ago

Text

Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ

Part 2

Summary: Gojo Satoru is known for being a flirt, but what happens when he gets a taste of his own medicine?

Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Gojo getting flustered, Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)

Word Count: 778

It was well known that the infamous head of the Gojo-clan was a huge flirt. And understandably so. He was a striking young man with good looks that could rival the ones of even the Greek gods. Not to mention the personality to match.

He was a cocky little bastard. Always using his good-looks to his advantage. Didn't feel like paying the regular price for a double scooping of ice cream? - He'd just charm the vendor into giving him a "customer discount". Wanted to get into the VIP lounge of some club? - No problem. One wink, paired with a flirty comment towards the security was all it took for him to waltz right in like he owned the place.

Everyone knew he liked having things his way. After all, no one had ever opposed the strongest. And gotten away with it at least-

You supposed that's what ultimately resulted in his unique personality. . .

His boyish charm worked on almost anyone.

Except you.

There were only a handful of people that could resist Satoru's charming attitude and you were one of them. And for some reason it only made you a target more than everyone else.

But could you really blame Satoru for wanting to make the cute new girl wrapped around his fingers?

He just found you so interesting (not to mention adorable) whenever you rolled your eyes at his flirty pick-up line, brushing him off as if he wasn't the Satoru Gojo.

You were absolutely perfect.

One could only imagine the look on his face when you actually responded to his flirty comments.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Satoru spoke in his usual charming tone as he leaned over your desk. "Don't you have someone else to bother Gojo?" Raising your head from the book you were reading, Satoru was met with your unamused expression. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Satoru answered. "No. Suguru's out on a mission and Yaga-sensei called Shoko to his office not too long ago. Said something about practicing for a medical exam, whatever that means." "Which means that you, sweet girl, get to spend the evening with yours truly." He added, flashing you his signature boyish grin. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you said sarcastically. "Gee. How lucky am I?" Grinning like the dork he was, Satoru completely dismissed your unenthusiastic tone and simply carried on with his 'speech'. "Don't get too excited now. I wouldn't want Suguru getting jealous." "But then again- Who wouldn't get jealous over the lovely little lady that gets to spend the evening with me?" He continued on with his 'speech'. Letting out a defeated sigh, you looked up at the white haired sorcerer. What was that old saying again? If you can't beat them - join 'em. "Y'know what.." You spoke up, capturing Satoru's attention. "You're absolutely right." "Oh?" The boy hummed, raising a brow at your response. Had he finally gotten to you? "Definitely." You chirped, shifting in your seat. "Heh, I knew you'd see it eventually." Gojo commented, his cocky grin resurfacing once more. "After all, it was only a matter of time till you fell for m-" His words were suddenly cut off by your hand tugging his shirt and getting him down to your level. Cerulean eyes meeting yours, Satoru could feel his heart picking up its pace at your close proximity. His breath hitched as he saw you lean in, till your noses were almost touching. "What's wrong, pretty boy?" You cooed, your grin matching the one on his face just a few moments ago. "Cat got your tongue?" There were no words to describe how fast Satoru's heart was beating in that very moment. Nor how lightheaded your words, and actions, made him feel. If his blood pressure didn't kill him you would. For once in his entire life. Satoru was left speechless. Chuckling at the flustered state you'd left him, you gently patted his rosy cheek with one hand, before pulling away. "Y'know Gojo.. You're not as bad when you shut up." You said, offering him a cheeky smile. "You should consider letting your face do all the talking next time." "Chao~" Once you were out of the room and Satoru couldn't sense your cursed energy any more, he let out an embarrassed groan as he raised a hand to cover his flushed features. He glanced back at the door you'd walked through a minute earlier as he muttered to himself, hand covering his mouth. "What a woman.~"

After that little fiasco, Satoru was never the same.

He had a new goal in his mind. Get the new girl to do that to him again.

Author Note:

OMG I did not expect my previous post to blow up this much-

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3

Also, I hope you enjoyed reading this lil' fanfic!

916 notes · View notes

fallstaticexit · 17 days ago

Text

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Self Harm Mentioned/Implied

AN: next update our ladies will have a proper reunion but first tree farm tree farm! (Even though only the poor kids- and Bob- are the only ones super excited about it)

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [All those years I’ve spent yearning, wanting, my whole self calling for her—and now she’s here]

Nancy Narrates: [This isn’t a dream. She’s here. I can feel the warmth in her cheek]

Nancy: I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have-

Vanessa: [laughs] It’s ok, Nancy! It’s good to see you too.

Vanessa: Wow, look at you. You’re all grown up, aren’t you?

Nancy: I- I-

Vanessa: Still filled to the brim with tears too.

Nancy: [softly] Sorry. I thought.. I thought I’d never see you again.

Vanessa: 16 years is a long time. I was worried you would have forgotten all about me.

Nancy: I could never forget you.

Vanessa: I’ve come all this way to see you.

Nancy: Have you really?

Vanessa: I know it’s been years, but I was hoping we could reconnect. I’m staying at the Fyres Hotel. Maybe we could have dinner there tonight. Catch up?

Nancy Narrates: [I had to physically restrain myself from saying yes. I realized, after all these years, I still would have followed her anywhere...but it can’t be this way. Not anymore..]

Nancy: [exhales] I can’t. I’m sorry. I had plans.

Vanessa: Ah! Well. I did pop in last minute. Maybe some other-

Nancy: You could come with me! I mean, If you like? We’re supposed to get a Christmas tree for the house; trying to set new traditions and what not.

Nancy: It’s silly but it’s important to them- my sons. I have two boys, by the way. I have to do this for them but- you’re here and I don’t know if I can see you leave again. God, am I rambling too much?

Vanessa: You want me to go tree shopping with you and your children?

Nancy: [blushes] Will you?

Vanessa: Lead the way.

Malcolm: What’s taking that lady so long!

Jonathan: Should we try and call mom again?

Geoffrey: [hums noncommittally]

Malcolm: He’s not even listening!

Bob: Hellooo? Earth to Geoffrey?

Bob: Iggy say, ‘what’s eatin’ ya, Uncle G?’

Iggy: [coos]

Geoffrey: Heh, sorry! Sorry. I guess I got alot on my mind right now.

Eliza: Is everything ok?

Geoffrey: Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah- well...I guess I’m thinking about Nance?

Eliza: What’s wrong with Nancy?

Geoffrey: I’ve been thinking about what happened on our anniversary trip.

Bob: Yeah? What was it?

Malcolm: Mommy’s here!! Mommy’s here!!

Malcolm: Er, who’s that with my mommy?

Bob: Well, I’ll be damned! Talk about a throwback!

Eliza: [whistles] Oh, wow! Who is that? Is she a model?: Well, I’ll be damned! Talk about a throwback!

Geoffrey: Vanessa Villareal?

Nancy: These are my sons, Jonathan and Malcolm.

Vanessa: Oh! Oh, Nancy, they are beautiful.

Malcolm: Who are you, lady!

Nancy: Don’t be rude, darling. Vanessa is- was- she’s my..

Vanessa: I’m your mother’s best friend.

Jonathan: I’m Jonathan, but call me Johnny. This loud mouth is Malcolm.

Vanessa: Johnny it is. You must get those cool, blue eyes from your mom’s brother.

Jonathan: You knew my Uncle Nathan?

Vanessa: No, but I saw a picture once, a long time ago.

Vanessa: [turns to Malcolm] And you look just like your mother.

Malcolm: Are you a movie star too?

Vanessa: [chuckles] No, I’m not a movie star.

Malcolm: Then who are you lady?

Vanessa: I’m your Auntie V. You can call me that, if you like.

Malcolm: Aunt V, are you gonna pick out a tree with us?

Vanessa: You bet. You should know, I have a keen eye.

Nancy: Sorry I’m late..

Geoffrey: Better late than never. I see you had an eventful day.

Malcolm: No more talking! Let’s go already!

Jonathan: I want to find our tree with mom!

Malcolm: Well I’m taking daddy!

Bob: Alright! Long time no see, VV! Man, it’s been a while, huh?

Vanessa: Just V is fine. Billy, right?

Bob: [sighs] It’s Bobby. This is my wife, Eliza and this cool guy is Iggy.

Vanessa: [sheepishly] Right. Nice to meet you. Wasn’t there another one of you?

Bob: [chuckles] Cassie. We still keep in touch. She’s a travel blogger now. And I’m sure you remember ol’ Geoffrey here.

Geoffrey: Good seeing you, Vanessa.

Vanessa: Likewise.

Bob: Heck yeah! Let the festivities begin!

Jonathan: This one! This is the perfect tree, right, Mom?

Nancy: Mhm. Yes, that’s nice- I’ll be right back.

Jonathan: Oh..

Bob: Alright, what’s going on? You can tell me, it’s just us guys now, and Iggy here is great at keeping secrets.

Geoffrey: Nance was so sad on our trip, sadder than usual. I haven’t seen her so low since- well, since Vanessa left. And she kept apologizing to me.

Bob: You’ve mentioned before she gets in a mood sometimes, right?

Geoffrey: Well, yeah... that’s not all. I saw these bruises on the inside of her thigh.

Bob: [eyes widen] You think she’s hurting herself?

Geoffrey: Is that it, you think? At first I thought they were- you know, hickies?

Bob: Whoa. Hickies? On Nancy?

Geoffrey: [snorts] That’s crazy, right?

Bob: You should talk to her. If she is harming herself, you should get her help, bud.

Geoffrey: And if it’s not that...

Bob: Then, that’s another kind of conversation. But this is Nancy we’re talking about. You two have been bit by the love bug since high school. I can’t imagine her having an affair with some other guy.

Nancy: Hi.

Vanessa: Hi.

Nancy: Sorry if I’m being...odd. I guess, I’m still getting used to seeing you.

Vanessa: I don’t think you’re being odd. I think you’re being you.

Nancy: Is that a bad thing?

Vanessa: [giggles] No, not at all. You haven’t changed and it’s refreshing.

Nancy: Ah. Well. You haven’t either. I mean..you still feel like my Vanessa.

Nancy Narrates: [All those questions I craved answers for came rushing back to me the more I looked at her. Was my loving her just a girlish memory of our past? Did she ever hear my voicemail? Was it worth mentioning after almost 2 decades apart? After I’ve already married and had children? After I’ve sworn to dedicate my all to them-]

Vanessa: So, about that dinner. Are you free tonight?

#the art of being seen #the landgraabs #tw self harm mentioned #tw self harm #mentioned only #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 #sims

298 notes · View notes

princesskenny1998 · 22 days ago

Text

One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x female!reader ~ Weird

The Thousand Sunny rocked gently with the waves, sunlight sparkling off the ocean as the Straw Hat Pirates went about their usual tasks. You were leaning against the railing, eyes scanning the horizon, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves. Luffy had joined you, his usual goofy grin plastered on his face, but every now and then, he’d steal glances at you with a gleam in his eye.

He stepped closer, casually draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. It was a familiar feeling, something that had been natural between you two since you were teenagers. Luffy’s antics usually leaned on the childlike side, full of excitement and laughter. But you’d come to know that underneath all of that was a side of him that was both surprisingly mature and completely devoted.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “I’m glad you’re here with me. I’d get bored without you.” His tone was warm, and his gaze softened, catching you off guard with how intense his eyes could be when he looked at you this way.

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Bored, huh? I guess it’s my job to keep things interesting for you, Captain.”

He grinned and tugged you a little closer, and before you could react, he tilted his head down, catching your lips in a quick, playful kiss. The kiss was short but sweet, and when he pulled away, he was still smiling, a boyish blush dusting his cheeks. It was one of those moments that showed a side of him not everyone got to see. And though he would never say it outright, his actions spoke volumes—he loved you fiercely, even if he expressed it in his own unique way.

Zoro, who had been training nearby, suddenly stopped mid-swing, glancing over with a raised eyebrow. “Oi… am I seeing things, or did Luffy just act like a normal guy for a second?”

Sanji, polishing his cooking knives, let out a small scoff. “It’s weird, right? Seeing Luffy acting all… boyfriend-y.”

“Can’t blame him,” Sanji added after a pause, his gaze flicking to you with an approving nod. “She’s got that effect."

Luffy turned to his crewmates, a lazy smile on his face, completely unbothered by their comments. He held you a bit closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. “What? She’s my girlfriend,” he said simply, his words filled with a matter-of-fact confidence that made you smile. “Why wouldn’t I kiss her?”

Brook chuckled, his bony hands clasped in delight. “Ah, young love! I remember what it’s like to have a pretty lady to hold.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel old, though?” Nami teased, folding her arms with a smirk. “I mean, it’s strange seeing our Luffy like this.”

Robin only chuckled, a mysterious smile on her lips. “I think it’s sweet. He shows sides of himself that we don’t usually get to see.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro muttered, turning away with a huff. “It’s still weird.”

You rolled your eyes at the banter but couldn’t help grinning. Luffy may have been the most unpredictable captain, but he was also the most genuine. Sometimes his crewmates would catch glimpses of the quiet way he’d rest his hand on your back, the intense, heated gaze he’d give you when he thought no one was looking, or the soft, thoughtful way he’d listen to you talk about your dreams.

In fact, those quiet moments often took you by surprise, too—moments when Luffy’s childlike wonder melted away, and you could see a depth in his eyes that went far beyond his usual carefree nature. He had been a pillar of strength for you just as you had for him, and over the years, you realized that he understood far more than he let on.

That evening, as the stars began to dot the sky and the crew relaxed on the deck, Luffy found his way to you once more. He settled down beside you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly. You noticed the warmth in his gaze, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, grounding you both in the quiet companionship you had shared since you were kids.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replied, but his gaze stayed on you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “But you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks, laughing softly. “Luffy, you can be so cheesy.”

He shrugged, unashamed, a proud grin on his face. “Only for you.”

It was moments like these that sometimes left the crew gawking. Luffy, who could be so simple-minded and distracted most of the time, had this way of shifting, of letting his attention linger on you, bringing out a side of him that was, if only for a second, quieter, more mature.

And the crew couldn’t deny that sometimes they caught Luffy looking at you with a longing that seemed beyond his years, a reminder that their captain, for all his innocence and humor, was also just a man in love.

In one of those rare quiet nights, Luffy pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He didn’t say anything for a while, simply holding you and listening to the sounds of the sea. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re safe,” he murmured, his words laced with an unexpected seriousness. “I want you to be with me. Always.”

It wasn’t often that he spoke this way, but when he did, it struck you deep. You knew Luffy would go to any lengths for the people he loved, and he was determined to keep you by his side, through thick and thin.

As the crew prepared to turn in for the night, they watched the two of you with a mixture of awe and amusement, still surprised to see their captain in such an affectionate, even protective light.

Sanji lit a cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully. “Never thought I’d see Luffy so… serious.”

“Believe it or not, even Luffy has a heart that runs deep,” Robin said, a soft smile on her face. “And she seems to be the one who brings it out of him.”

Nami chuckled, giving you a knowing look. “Guess it just goes to show there’s a lot more to Luffy than meets the eye.”

You caught their glances and smiled, squeezing Luffy’s hand, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. His gaze softened, and with a simple kiss to your forehead, he reminded you—and everyone else—that he was your captain, your partner, and your best friend.

The sea stretched endlessly before you, an adventure waiting for you both, and with Luffy by your side, you knew that there was no place you’d rather be.

#monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #one piece reader insert #one piece

264 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 1 year ago

Text

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

2K notes · View notes