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emilykaldwen · 2 months ago

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Twenty-Four

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

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Author's Note: My love to @foxinthegodswood for the last minute beta! And many thanks to everyone hanging in there with me <3 HAPPY SMUTMAS

Summary: A long awaited interlude between Aegon and Abby.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Came Into My Bed, Told Me That My Hair Was Red

Abby had checked on the security of the mounted braziers around her rooms three times. She had shifted the protective grate in front of the fireplace double that, ensuring the rug was out of reach, that no linens were hanging too close to any sources of fire. She lay in bed, alone in the quiet with the curtains closed, open, half closed, and still she could not find sleep.

Rising once again, she peered out through the diamond glass windows to the gardens, observing the flickering light from the torches that bordered the meandering trails. Abby had seen Lord Tyland and her cousin, Elayna, slipping away after supper, flushed with drink and their arms wrapped around one another into the gardens. Aegon’s company eluded her, despite her longing for escape. There was always someone lurking, watching. As if their play would result in her walking down the aisle in two days with a swollen belly.

It didn't matter. She’d asked to be alone that night, gently pushing Wylla from the bed. The elder girl had cocked her head, reaching down to stroke the stray curls from Abby’s face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Are you sure?” Wylla had asked her softly as Abby curled in on herself in the bed. “I know I’m not who you need right now,none of us are, mo chara ghràdh, but I would not leave you alone in your head.” Abby had giggled softly amidst her strange aching. It had been interesting the past few days, learning the minor differences between the northern tongue and the riverlands. Both were so deeply similar, yet certain words were different. It helped ease some of the ache, but Wylla had been right. None of them were who she needed.

It was the peace she would have to make.

The scrape and clink of the lock drew her attention to the door and Abby shifted on the window seat to watch Aegon slip in. Abby did not run to him, curled up as she was, but she did give him a wan smile after he’d locked the door behind him.

“Were you waiting for the coast to be clear?” she asked him, pulling her legs further up against her chest and burrowing deeper into her nightgown. She should have retrieved her dressing gown for the extra warmth, but could not bring herself to do so.

“Your northern guard came and got me,” Aegon said as he approached, taking his own robe off and wrapping it around her snugly before he sat on the bench beside her. His blood ran hot, skin always warm, so she’d found it surprising he’d worn a robe to come see her. Modesty, perhaps? That also seemed strange for him. Regardless, Abby hummed and snuggled into the warm velvet, and Aegon reached out to lift her feet into his lap, wrapping his hands around them. It almost hurt at first to feel how hot his skin was against how cold her toes were and she wiggled them. “Pity I missed the pair of you in bed together.”

“That is our private time,” Abby said primly. “No boys allowed. And thank you for addressing her as my guard.” Aegon’s nicknames had been unkind, and she’d made sure to put a stop to it, just as she prodded at Wylla for her own contributions to the sniping. She would not have the two of them poking each other too harshly, and even when it made her feel uncertain and babied, she appreciated their getting along since coming to Harrenhal.

Aegon’s teeth flashed in the streak of moonlight coming through the window as he grinned at her, fingers working into the balls of her feet that made her toes spread out and a shiver course up her spine. “Do you like that?”

“Mmmm, yes, don’t stop.” She flexed and stretched her legs out further so he could more easily tend her. Abby leaned her head back, fingers playing with the end of the coil of hair over her shoulder, eyes looking up at the cloudless sky littered with stars. Tomorrow, the festivities began. Fireworks from Dorne and candlelit barges along the lake, dancing and music would be held in the gardens and in the yard surrounded by the melted towers of Harrenhal. Firefly-like lanterns would adorn the space. The Riverlands and the realm had all come together to celebrate their wedding.

To wait and see what upheaval the crown would announce.

Hands left her feet and grabbed her arms. Abby yelped as Aegon hauled her into his lap, maneuvering her around so her back was against his chest, and his feet propped up so she sat along his legs. She wriggled in protest, but Aegon’s arms tightened around her and his lips brushed along her ear, teeth nipping softly.

“You were going far away,” he told her, as if scolding her. “I had to catch you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she sighed, knowing he was right.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the ache pulsing in her chest constricting her words. “I did not mean to.” Tendrils of things she could not see had hooked around her limbs since she came back to the riverlands, tugging her like the song she swore she heard on the whistling wind through the cracks of the castle. Aegon always had the knack for pulling her back to the moment when her thoughts whirled so quickly she was a feather on the breeze. Now, it seemed, she needed to hold his hand lest she vanish into the forest like she nearly had the day of their arrival, the morning mist clinging to the edges of her skirts, the song and the whispers drawing her away and deep into something that tickled in the corners of her mind.

Aegon’s warm fingers cradled her jaw, and he tilted her face so their eyes could meet. The lilac of his gaze was a thin rim, pupils blown in the dim room, a pensive look on his face seeming more intense as the shadows highlighted the cut of his jaw and his cheekbones, deceptively soft in the light of day. His touch did not hurt, but it was firm. If she wanted to pull out of it, Abby knew that she could. Instead, she melted further into him, meeting his gaze.

“Do… do not go far from me, Abrogail,” he whispered, only barely audible in their proximity. He tightened the arm he had banded around her, and Abby wanted to break open his ribs and crawl inside to reassure him, greedily claiming the warmth and possession of the man who held her—the one who was still so lost, still such a boy in so many ways. Abby reached up a little awkwardly to cup his cheek in her cold hand, thumb stroking along his lightly freckled skin, drinking in the warmth of his touch, the love in his gaze.

“I will not go far from you,” she swore, a vow meant for blood. “I will not, I swear.”

The kiss was anything but chaste and innocent, as they’d been forced to satisfy themselves with beneath the many watchful eyes. Aegon licked his way deep inside, claiming her, reminding her of his taste and his touch. She trembled against him and her fingers dove deeper into his silver curls while she shifted in his lap to better take him. There was nothing in her head but the taste and feel of him, the way his hand moved from cradling her jaw to cupping her throat, his thumb pressing gently along her hammering pulse. Her free hand pressed against his shoulder to shove him back against the pillows so he would stay still, but there was no illusion who drove the kiss. She could feel the arousal tug deep in her belly with each stroke of his tongue, the pressure along her pulse from his hand. When they broke apart, she pressed her forehead against his, the pair of them gulping each other’s exhales and their lips brushing, unable to stop.

She tried to find words, say his name, but could not. Aegon let out a small whine beneath her. Abby gave him a gentle, suckling kiss to soothe him, and his hips rolled up into hers. He whimpered into her mouth as she ground down, taking in her own mewling reply before he broke them apart, pushing her away slightly.

They were both breathing hard, Aegon’s fair skin flushed, his mouth swollen red. His gaze raked over her face and his large, hot hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking against her skin, against the corner of her mouth. She nipped at the pad of his thumb with a little growl, rolling her hips against him as a lazy smirk bloomed across his face and his eyes fluttered at the pressure of her against where he’d grown hard.

For her. Only for her.

He would be her husband and share her bed. It would be her that he swore vows in front of the realm and to the gods. Not Cassandra Baratheon or some exotic Essosi bride or a fair-haired Lannister or a Redwyne with a fleet to challenge the Sea Snake.

He was her Aegon, who whimpered beneath her mouth and hungered for her, who begged for her to not leave him, who she was certain would tie and bind them together just as desperately as she wanted to and the need only grew. She was not a dragon. Fire did not course in her blood. She was his rabbit, she liked being his rabbit, but she was a lion too and she had claws that she didn’t quite know how to use, but she would, just as fiercely as any dragon.

“You’re mine,” she snarled, the anger and hurt that Cassandra had burned inside her flaring. Was it a snarl that escaped her? She didn’t know. Her blood was a pounding drumbeat pulsing in her neck, in her ears. Abby watched the way his eyes widened, the slow smirk turning darker, delight and curiosity, and shades she couldn’t recognize but felt a tug deep and low in her belly. “This is my castle, and you will be my husband.”

Had she ever let herself do this? The hungry way he looked at her told her that she hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t. Abby kept it locked away, always giving and never taking. She wanted to take. She deserved to take after giving everything, didn’t she?

Aegon pulled at the rich robe he’d wrapped her in, harsh and impatient tugs while she turned and wriggled in his lap, turning her way out of the robe and the brocade falling to the floor. She straddled his lap and her knees pressed into the soft, red velvet cushions on either side of him, the soft fabric of her nightgown hiked up along her thighs with the angle. Abby pushed the hair from his brow, teeth caught on her lip as his gaze raked over her, his eyes dark with the heat that reflected her own. Aegon toyed with the coil of copper hair over her shoulder, pulling soft whimpers from her with each tug.

There was so much left. So much that had not been touched that she dared not crack open. She wanted to trust him, and part of her did, but it had been buried so deep for so long that Abby didn’t know if anyone could be trusted to unearth what she'd hidden away.

He nipped at her mouth, hard enough that it might have hurt had it not sent a flood of heat between her thighs, or drawn a whimper from her, his name dragged out on her broken voice. Aegon’s hands dropped to her knees and tucked beneath the embroidered hem of her linen nightgown, shoving it up to bare her thighs. His hands were burning on her cold skin and she relished in it.

“Come here,” she commanded in a trembling whisper with her mouth against his so not even the ghosts could hear her. Only Aegon. Only for him. “Fill me up.”

‘Break me open and come inside.’

Arousal was sticky and hot in her veins, coursing thick and making her languid, making her shiver. Refusing to be denied, Abby dove into the heat of his mouth as his fingers found the damp heat of her cunt and stroked her experimentally. Her knees buckled and Aegon swallowed her delighted gasp, the pair of them trembling, her with relief and anticipation both.

Give me this, please, oh please.

As if she spoke aloud, Aegon didn’t hesitate. He didn’t tease her before sinking two fingers inside. She cried out, loud and bright and without restraint, rising up on her knees and her hips rocking into his touch. The stretch was warm, only a slight discomfort at the initial intrusion. With the broken kiss, Aegon’s mouth found her cheek and jaw, teeth and lips nipping and grazing, suckling kisses along her skin and sending blooms of heat beneath each affection.

The neckline of her nightgown was untied at some point and fell down to gather around her waist and the tops of her thighs. His teeth caught on her breast, biting with more purpose than his suckling kisses that left blossoms of red in his wake. She cried out, fingers tangled in his hair and pulling, desperate for all of him. The sound of his fingers inside of her was nearly as loud as her cries and she rose on her knees to give his hand more space. Abby’s head fell back and her eyes looked out the window and the way she could see the moon just past the dripping wisteria that he’d brought from Rhaenys’ garden and the slight ripple of their own reflections between the colored glass rivers that decorated the paned glass.

His fingers twisted against that spot inside of her that he taught her how to find and Abby’s vision went hazy, knees buckling and nails clawing at his shoulder when she gripped him for purchase. Words were lost, Aegon’s mouth noisily suckling her breasts and the ridges of her collarbones and her cries joining the sounds of her soaking cunt its own song in the chamber.

A loud half squeal, half cry tore from her when Aegon leaned up to drag his teeth against her pulse and her hips lost their rhythm, stuttering and losing the easy roll that she’d developed as the pressure inside of her increased, a bow drawn taught. His thumb swiped against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and between the pressure inside and out, Abby came with a loud cry, heedless of who heard, a gush of wetness soaking his arm and both their laps, her hands clawing and pulling at him, his mouth sealed along the soft curve of her jaw, teeth holding her in place.

“There you go,” Aegon whispered into her skin where her pulse rushed, drawing her into him as her trembling thighs could no longer hold her up. There was the touch of teeth again, the sound of his mouth kissing against her skin. His other hand came up to push the tendrils of hair that clung to her sweaty temples, her cheeks and the corners of her mouth. She nosed into his hair and felt the pounding of his heart echoing into her chest where her breasts crushed against him, aching nipples scratching against the linen of his own shirt.

He lifted his slick hand, sucking a finger into his mouth before holding his hand up to her. Abby swallowed his middle and ring finger down, greedily tasting herself as he grinned at her before leaning down to lick some of her slick that had coursed down his arm. The obscenity of it should have shocked her to stillness, but instead, it only spurred her own, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat. She needed more as she sucked on his fingers before he drew them away with a pop.

“You’re so beautiful when you fall.” Abby’s gaze caught his; fire and such a possessive want that had the arousal heating even as her body struggled to come down.

“Come with me,” she begged, or maybe she was ordering him, her shaking fingers pushing the hair from his face and tilting his head back a little more. Aegon laughed, low and vibrating through her. She smiled in return, the giddiness rushing through the arousal and began pulling at his shirt, chanting, “Off, off! Get this off!” as they both laughed, tangled and twisting from the clothing.

The pair of them tossed aside the flimsy material. Abby immediately leaned down to run her mouth and teeth along his shoulder, shifting awkwardly while Aegon worked her own gown over her legs to lay discarded along with his.

“I’m sick of waiting,” Aegon said, leaning her back just a bit and capturing her mouth, tongue stroking against hers, licking at the soft insides of her mouth. She whined, and he whimpered when she wrapped her hand around his cock, the flared head slick with moisture that she used to aid her movements.

She shifted on her knees to take him, but a loud slap! and the accompanying sting and startled cry gave her pause. “What was that for?” she hissed, pouting and confused. “You said-”

“Let me,” Aegon commanded, his voice low. Abby felt a deep pulse between her thighs as the tone of his words ignited sparks through her veins. She struggled against his manhandling, only enough to hear him growl and smack his hand across her bottom again.

Aegon shifted on the window seat, spreading his legs a little more and adjusting her before he lifted his damp hand to spit in his palm. He held it up to her. “Go on, help me,” he said, his lilac gaze nearly blown completely black. Abby nodded and spat in his hand, watching curiously as her spit mingled with his. She giggled when he nipped her mouth sharply, tugging at her lower lip hard enough for her to feel it when he let go. Abby gripped his shoulders to steady herself as she rose on her knees and looked down, their heads touching as they both watched him wrap a hand firmly around himself.

Abby stared and audibly whined while watching him stroke his cockhead through her slick folds, his other hand on her hip to keep her from moving too much. The tip of him nestled in, familiar and warm as he gently pressed inside. He’d pressed only the tip inside her, dragging against her, teasing the pair of them over the past months, and she was so tired of waiting.

If he put a babe in her belly now, it would be seen as a fortunate sign from the gods; a wedding night blessing of their union.

She wriggled in his hold and Aegon groaned, his fingers spasming on her hip. “Easy now,” he instructed, their gazes fixated on where he was slowly sliding into her. Abby lowered herself down, the stretch of him increasing, the pressure and discomfort something she was aware of beneath the desire and the all-consuming want of him.

She soon discovered it wasn’t easy. Abby could not drop down, nothing so simple as when she would drag her needy cunt over him to content herself with the shape of him pressing against her. She tried to sink down a few inches and found that her progress had stopped. Slowly, Aegon helped her rise back up and she lowered herself again, lip caught between her teeth in concentration. Gods help her. He felt so good, but the stretch was more than she expected. There was a sting, a burn as she tried to take him that she had not anticipated. It was sharp, like the feeling of slicing one’s finger on parchment, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek at the new discomfort. Once more she rose and once more she sunk down, taking him in bit by bit.

“I-I can’t… I want.. Why won’t it…” She gulped for air. The arousal was still sticky hot in the depths of her belly, in the crooks of her elbows and where the sweat gathered behind her knees, but her frustration was growing, the subtle pain growing with it as she felt her body tense with the newfound limits of her body. Abby looked at him helplessly. His flushed face was contorted in pleasure and heat, gaze fixed on where they were joined before he met her eyes.

Aegon leaned in to lick into her mouth, stroking against her tongue like how his fingers stroked inside her. “Breathe,” he told her between kisses and looking down at where he disappeared inside of her. Again she rose, and this time Aegon tugged her down further. Something in the way he pushed past her body’s resistance twisted the coil in her belly tighter and she cried out, mouth wet, eyes fluttering. It hurt, yes, like the feeling of thorns pricking along her skin, but more than that was the pleasure of finally having him.

Aegon’s breathing grew labored as they slowly worked her down, his fingers pressing hard enough into her waist to bruise, the other hand gripping her left thigh now that he no longer had to hold himself steady lest he slip out of her.

When he finally sunk fully into her, she could feel him in her throat, behind her ribs, nestling inside her like she’d always wanted. The need to crack open her ribs and cage him inside of her to keep her warm, to keep him safe, to keep him with her always and forever, never far from her, never gone, never alone finally, for this moment, felt fulfilled. Complete.

“Aegon,” she whined, hiccuping at the end of his name, and leaned down to kiss him, to taste him, her hands gripping his shoulders as his own gripped her waist, her thigh. Abby thought he might leave bruises come the morning.

‘Mark me, claim me. Stay inside me, don’t ever leave me. Never leave, not you.’

Aegon slowly helped her rise higher and higher until Abby thought he’d slip from her and she grew frantic, her fingers clawing at his shoulders until he hissed with pain and pleasure. “Don’t you dare take me off, don’t you dare, Aegon.” Her attempt at ordering him to keep his cock in her was a shaky, hiccuping mess that earned a throaty laugh. Aegon kissed her words away and helped her back down until he was fully seated in her.

Again and again, Aegon lifted her because her legs were useless things, a fawn unable to hold herself up. Up and down, over and over, until the pinch and discomfort of her body trying to accommodate him began to fade. Finally, she was able to fight his control, if only a little. Abby rocked her hips, pushing down on his shoulders for purchase while trying to lift herself, seeking the control, refusing to give it all to him.

Aegon needed to know he was hers. He was hers to seek pleasure from. Hers to claim. Just because he was a dragon didn’t give him the right to decide how quickly she could ride him.

She would not admit that there was a coil of heat that spread through her as he controlled, guided, commanded her. Abby simply would not share it for now.

The rhythm was soon found between suckling kisses and insistent twitches of her hips, Aegon’s own hips snapping up as Abby found her balance. A dance she was unfamiliar with, but her body seemed to understand what was expected, even if they weren’t in sync, much like how she would step on his feet or bump into him during dance practice. Between moans of pleasure and thready laughter, Abby gave into the feeling. One hand continued to grip his shoulder, leaving red, crescent moons from her nails and scratch marks when she scrambled and the other reached up to press against the cold glass window so she could get on her knees to better ride him. She squealed when Aegon leaned down to lick at the ticklish skin beneath her arm before snaring an aching nipple with tongue and teeth. Her skin was mottled red from his bites and kisses and she’d relish each one in the morning.

The cold glass against her palm centered her, kept her from fully giving over into the haze of pleasure, the shine of lightning through her veins, the roiling, syrupy heat that made her hips jerk. When she came down, Abby ground her hips against his in an attempt to find a new bit of pressure that pressed against that place inside of her. Aegon’s hand went between them and his calloused fingers rolled her clit idly, stroking absently like he would her temple when she rested her head upon his shoulder. The light and tender touch had her cry out, body taught and back arching.

“Come on,” he consoled her. “You’re so close. I know you are, hunītsos.” He kissed her cheeks, her mouth, and she sought his taste in return. Aegon’s fingers still danced over her, his other arm banding around her to hold her close. Abby clung to him as the pressure increased, his thumb moving faster, his hips rolling up until the kiss broke, a wordless cry echoing through the chamber as she clenched around him, sobbing as pleasure rolled through her. She could barely hear his own grunt and shout after her, but she could feel the warmth of him spilling inside of her, filling her in all the ways she’d been desperate for these months.

Coming down didn’t feel like crashing. It felt like she was floating, warm, hazy, and heavy-limbed, melting into Aegon’s arms until she was certain that she would simply slip beneath his skin. They slumped back against the window seat and her legs splayed awkwardly on either side of him, face buried into his neck and he nuzzled into her hair. Aegon’s breathing labored in her ear and her own rushed through her. Dimly, she was aware of an ache, but it didn’t deserve her attention right now.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his salty skin and snuggling in more. “I love you so much.”

Aegon vibrated beneath her, humming into her hair. “I love you too. Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and sighed, further relaxing into him. “Did I hurt you?” Aegon’s answer was a soft laugh and a whisper of the negative against her ear, arms wrapped tightly around her. Abby rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, a sleepy smile across her face. “Thank you for letting me ride you.”

Aegon’s answering laughter was just as loud and bright as her earlier cries of pleasure.

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hotd-bigbang · 5 months ago

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Like a Cigarette (Drag Out, Never Quit)

Author: @queen--kenobi | Artist: @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Rating: Explicit | Pairing(s): Tyland Lannister x OFC | Word count: 10,317

Warnings: Major character death, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, AngstAngst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Porn, Smut, Praise Kink, References to Depression, Postpartum Depression, Aemond is dead before the story begins, Voyeurism, Dubious Consent

Summary: When the Greens realized Rhaenyra invaded King's Landing, Elayna, Aemond's wife and mother of his children, was among those who fled. Not trusting Larys, Elayna had made a plan with Tyland Lannister should the worst ever occur.

Seven months later, freshly widowed Elayna and Tyland return to King's Landing. The pair of Westerlanders grew close in the intervening months, making many wonder what happened. King Aegon II decides to see for himself exactly how close the pair became.

Read on AO3.

#hotd big bang #house of the dragon #house of the dragon big bang #house of the dragon fandom #hotd #hotd fan fiction #hotd fandom #house of the dragon fan fiction

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sikudastoner · 2 months ago

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(@queen--kenobi) Mabel and Elayna's kids natch hehehe

Ughhhh I was gonna send a Mabel x Elayna x Tyland ask first. You beat me to it 😔.

Name: Walden Reyne.

Gender: Male

General appearance: His mothers look almost like sisters, so I imagine he’s like them but tall or average height (Mabel is tall, I forgot how tall Elayna is but she gives tall girl energy.) He definitely has Mabel’s unibrow but she shaves or plucks it everyday. I’m not saying Tyland has a type… I’m just saying…

Personality: Oh god, a spoiled brat. Mabel is incapable of saying no and he inherited Elayna’s brattiness. Otherwise, I think he’s a sweetheart, mayhaps a bit of a gentleman? I think he’s got two awesome moms so not much could go wrong. Very charming. He’s like Randel and does everything in his strength to not become Tymon.

Special Talents: Card games and gambling.

Who they like better: Mabel, it’s easier to manipulate her into getting what he wants.

Who they take after more: Elayna

Personal headcanon: I feel like his gaydar is unmatched and undefeated. @ tymon lannister you can fool all of westeros but you can’t fool Walden.

Faceclaim: Josh Whitehouse

#oc: elayna reyne #oc: mabel waters

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queen--kenobi · 27 days ago

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Wheel of Fortune: The Fool (Emperor, Upright)

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Chapter summary: The Lannisters and Reynes arrive at King's Landing. Tyland begins the process of sorting and accounting for changes they may cause. Word count: ~6.5k Author's note: I want to thank @writingbylee and @baba-fett because y'all are always some of my biggest cheerleaders. I also want to think @emilykaldwen and @ewanmitchellcrumbs for letting me borrow Abby and Lia respectively. It means so much that y'all trust me with your OCs!!! Masterlist , Previous chapter

My good brother,

I apologize for my lack of letters as of late. Cerelle and Tymon's eight and tenth nameday is almost a moon away, and much preparation is to be done, both for the festivities and for their futures.

Both their father and I agree it is time both come to the Red Keep. We have ensured a place for Cerelle as one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. Tymon shan't be staying as long. I bring him merely so he may begin to make more thorough connections. It will be good for both of them, and I trust both of them to take initiative.

I have a favor to ask of you. It is a large ask, but I fear no one else can help me. I would not mention this if it weren't important.

Tymon has taken an interest in Alon's daughter, Elayna. Despite multiple conversations, he cannot be deterred. He is determined to marry her. While the marriage is advantageous on paper, a union between Tymon and Elayna is ill advised. Most marriages learn to work towards a common good. I cannot see the two of them achieving a point of equanimity.

My son is headstrong, as I'm sure you have picked up on from my letters. Normally, this attribute is beneficial, but it isn't in this particular instance. This is where I must ask a favor from you. Tymon will not respect most men. Due to you being blood, Tymon will respect you marrying Elayna should you do so.

Alon shall join us on the trip to King's Landing, and he can speak with you more about this idea. We have conversed about it so this will not come as a surprise to him. Don't take this to mean I do not care for Elayna; I see much potential in her. I have done all I can for her, but the refinement she is in need of is not something I am equipped to deal with. You are in a much better position to do so.

It is an advantageous match. It may help open some of the few doors still closed to you. It would also help alleviate the rumors swirling as to why you have yet to marry. Ordinarily, I don't grant rumors and whispers my attention, but they have turned nasty as of late.

We shall leave in two moons time, not too long after the festivities. It shall be nice to see you again. Your presence is missed here.

Your friend,

Johanna

Tyland reads over the letter once again. The letter is nearly 3 moons old, and he keeps other, more recent, correspondence from her since then, but the contents of this one interest him still. Johanna’s preference for not sugar coating the truth behooves, and occasionally amuses, him. He places it back on his desk and pads over to his study window. The carriages should be there within the next several hours. This shall not be the last time he checks; he is inexorably drawn to the window, waiting and watching, eagerly awaiting Johanna’s arrival.

Tyland no longer feels strange when he sees her. In the early years after they ended their illicit relationship, he might attribute the joy as ungentlemanly eagerness, despite him being the one to break it off. Now, his joy stems from seeing an old friend. Truth be told, Tyland almost prefers her friendship to their scandalous affair. Hiding it still makes him sick with anxiety and worry, the fear of being found out never going away entirely. Distance doesn't always doom love, but it certainly destroys affairs.

In the late hours of the night, Tyland catches himself wondering if Cerelle and Tymon might be his. The others are not, he knows this for a fact. No proof exists, but the thought sticks in his mind.

Tyland sighs. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, banish all distractions. He drums his fingers on the windowsill. Johanna rarely asks much of him yet this request sours in his mouth. Perhaps it is the acknowledgement of the rumors as to why he hasn't married yet. Even now, despite everything he has achieved, people gossip about him. The longer he waits, the more people question why. None are so bold as to say directly what they think, but he hears the term “bachelor” thrown around in hushed whispers.

Tyland runs his hands over his face. He should at least get to know Elayna, he supposes. It wouldn't hurt. He looks out his study window once more, pursing his lips together. If he is entirely honest with himself, which he does try to practice given most of Jason's flaws stem from a lack of self-awareness, Tyland hesitates at the idea of giving up his current life. While the constant barrage of letters irritate him, he enjoys the freedom he has. He inhales and slowly exhales.

“I shall give it a chance.” Tyland murmurs.

It would be an advantageous match, both for his family and for himself. Jason's hubris and inattentive nature endangers them; taking advantage of Jason's foibles would be easy if it weren't for Johanna. Marrying the only Reyne daughter strengthens the bonds and takes away any incentive of undermining or rebellion. It also strengthen his position, incentives forward movement, perhaps towards Master of Coins.

Tyland nods.

It isn't a terrible idea. He can't truly judge how good of an idea it is until he meets Elayna, but on paper, it is a fairly solid suggestion, certainly one he'll take under advisement.

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

Tyland stands in the courtyard. The arrival of the Lannisters and Reynes causes buzz, and more people stand with the greeting party than he expects. Despite it not being for him and his family, pride creeps through him and settles in his chest. Abrogail and Larys Strong stand amongst the crowd, which is expected given their uncle and niece are arriving. Queen Alicent and Otto stand among them, again not a surprise due to Otto's first wife being a Reyne as well. Truly, more people stand in attendance than Tyland expects, and the sight raises his spirits significantly.

Tyland rolls Johanna’s suggestion around in his head as he notes who stands in the courtyard and on the steps, each person's ties and allegiance a number in the equation. He slides them as he would beads on an abacus. Later, he shall sort everyone and figure out specifics, but for now, all he needs is numbers.

“I imagine you are excited to see your nephew and nieces.” Otto's voice almost makes Tyland start.

“I am.” Tyland smiles. “I haven't seen them in quite some time.”

Otto nods. He interlaces his fingers behind his back. Tyland watches him, keeping his best blandly happy expression on his face. He doubts Otto suspects anything, and he will not give him a reason.

“I do wish my brother was able to make the journey.” Tyland offers as a way of distraction. It isn't as if he is lying either, he does wish Jason could be here, even if he would be irritated with him before the end of the week.

“It is one of my few regrets I was not able to see my brother and nephews more. Yet I wouldn't change it. The Realm comes first.”

“A sacrifice made in name of the Realm is a worthy one.”

Otto lets out a low noise of agreement. He studies Tyland for a second, gaze cool and appraising, but Tyland stays steadfast. Information is knowledge, and Tyland gleans what he can from watching interactions. Otto's appraisals tend to be favorable when the subject doesn't back down or flinch.

“I'm heartened to see Lia joining us.”

Tyland means what he says, but it is also a self-serving statement. Changing the conversation gives Tyland a chance to breathe, releasing him from Otto's scrutiny for a moment. Few see Tyland for who he truly is. If Otto pays too much attention, he may get a peek behind the carefully crafted façade, which is not exactly what Tyland wants.

Otto doesn't need to know the full extent of Tyland’s ambitions. He doesn't need to know if things go according to plan, Tyland sees himself as Hand within the next decade, perhaps within the next five years if he plays his cards right. Otto is crafty, he surely expects Tyland desires more than Masters of Ships. However, if he sees Tyland as a threat, Tyland will gain no traction.

Better to let Otto think he aims for Master of Coins, a more than respectable position.

“Yes.” Otto turns his head. As he looks at his wife, Tyland swears Otto's jaw softens the slightest amount. He turns his attention back towards the gate. “My understanding is Alon has done much to keep the peace and ease tensions.”

Oh. Tyland tries not to blink. Tensions between the deceased wife's family and the new wife isn't a new issue, he supposes. Alon reaching out shifts dynamics, and if he reaches out to one, he surely reaches out to more. Alon may be in many people's good graces.

A bead on the abacus slides.

Thank the Seven Tyland makes time for people. He fears it may not be enough some days, given how much damage control he must do when Jason comes around, but anything helps. He loathes it, but in his sleepless moments, Tyland wishes he had been given the gift of gab. Not because he likes talking, precisely the opposite; he wishes it came easier to him because it feels so difficult and even tedious, depending on the person.

“Alon is a good man.” Tyland pauses. Oddly enough, he remembers Alon being the one to give him the idea. Not directly, of course, but Alon put the idea in Tyland’s head as an offhanded comment. With his new knowledge of Alon reaching out to Lia, Tyland wonders if it was on purpose.

He could offer the tidbit now, a fact about him that may cause Otto to look at him in a better light, but before he can, a crier catches everyone's attention. The carriages are close. Everyone in the courtyard turns towards the portcullis and gate, the chatter easing into whispers. People shuffle about the area, and Tyland moves instinctively with them as everyone shifts into their respective places. No one moves too far, they more move outward and away from clusters.

The wheelhouses roll in, the Lannister's first and the Reynes following. Tyland watches the wheelhouse eagerly. The closer he gets to seeing his family, the more his body almost vibrates. While he came here with a purpose all those years ago, he still misses his family, even Jason on occasion. He cannot say he misses everyone from Casterly Rock; a good portion of why he left is because of the people. Jason being named heir over him still stings on occasion, and the treatment after absolutely hurts. He consoles himself with his position now, but some damages cannot be undone.

Johanna exits the wheelhouse first. She looks much the same as Tyland remembers, the only sign of the years passing the wrinkles on her face. Tymon and Cerelle both stand taller than Tyland expects. He accounts for some growth, given it'd been several years since he's last laid eyes upon them, but he didn't prepare himself enough. Tymon stands almost as tall as Jason. In stature, he looks much like his father, but his eyes and facial features are more Johanna’s. Cerelle appears much the same as Tymon. Yet as Tyland looks at them, the difference between the two couldn't be plainer.

It's in their eyes.

Both exit with the appropriate amount of decorum. Both behave exactly as they should. Yet Tymon almost smirks as he observes the crowd, his eyes lighting in an almost cruel way, a shark surveying for his next meal. By contrast, Cerelle's cool appraisal, while still an assessment, comes off as more intrigued than anything else. She surveys everyone with an air of excitement. When her eyes land on Tyland, Cerelle smiles. She smiles at him exactly the way she did when she was a young girl, eagerly greeting him and plying him with questions about King's Landing. Tyland smiles softly back.

Otto and Alicent greet Johanna first. Tyland stands back and awaits his turn, content on observing for now. While speaking with Johanna is one of his priorities, it isn't as if another opportunity won't present itself. Besides, if his nearly 20 years of being at court has taught him anything, appearing too eager to speak with someone will not only raise eyebrows but also invite unwanted eavesdroppers when the important conversion occurs.

When Johanna turns away from Otto and Alicent and towards him, Tyland takes his cue. He steps forward.

“Johanna.”

“Tyland.” Johanna’s tone warms up when she addresses him. They step towards each other but remain the appropriate distance apart, although the distance is still much closer than Johanna stands to most. “It is good to see you.”

“ ‘Tis good to see you as well. It has been far too long.”

“Uncle.” Tymon steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You look well.”

Were Tyland a fool, he might believe Tymon's words. Unfortunately for Tymon, Tyland was not born yesterday. While Tymon's tone is convincing, he nearly looks through Tyland. Tyland suspects he only doesn't because he is kin.

“Tymon. As do you. You are much taller than I remember.”

Irritation flashes briefly through Tymon's eyes, not true anger but the aggravation of talking with a doddering relative. It hurts for a second, but Tyland pushes past it. While it does sting, being seen as old is to his advantage; Tymon will stay out of his way if he perceives Tyland as useless. Guilt briefly washes over Tyland. Assuming the worst of family isn't a good look.

“Uncle!” Cerelle nearly chirps. She sounds genuine in her greeting unlike her brother. Out of the pair, Cerelle holds a soft spot in Tyland’s heart. He suspects she exploits it on occasion, as young adult are wont to do, but he doesn't mind as much as he should. Cerelle at least has the decency to treat him as family, no matter how long it's been since he's last seen them.

“Cerelle. ‘Tis good to see you. Your mother told me you have good news?”

“I do. ‘Tis very exciting news.” Cerelle nearly beams. Tymon's upper lip twitches.

“We both have exciting news.” Tymon corrects Cerelle.

“And I am at liberty to discuss mine.” Cerelle's matter of fact tone nearly makes Tyland raise an eyebrow. He looks at Johanna out of the corner of his eyes, wondering the exact nature of Tymon's news. Johanna’s displeasure is brief but strong. Tymon must catch it for he smiles, stiff but a smile nonetheless.

“Forgive me. Your news is more pertinent.”

Interesting. Tymon sounds surprisingly sincere, which feels at odds with the knowledge his apology isn't of his own volition. Still, Tyland zeroes in on the slight smirk, a brief twitch of Tymon's lips betraying him.

Perhaps it's best Tymon sees him as useless and aging.

The footman announces the beginning of the Reynes leaving their wheelhouse. Cerelle and Tymon slot themselves neatly beside Johanna and Tyland.

Tyland finds himself waiting with almost baited breath. However long it has been since he's seen his family, it's been much longer since he's seen Lord Reyne. Rumors swirl about Alon's health. Normally, Tyland pays them no heed, but given he has the opportunity to find out for himself, he is a little curious.

Alon demounts.

The rumors clearly come from how Alon looks. Alon stands much taller than most normally, but he almost seems shorter today. Tyland almost raises an eyebrow when he sees Alon with a cane. A quick glance over at Johanna confirms Tyland isn't seeing things; Johanna turns her head at the same time Tyland does and nods when Tyland does lift an eyebrow. She doesn't mouth anything yet her look conveys it all. Johanna shall tell him about it when she gets the chance. Tyland turns his attention back to the wheelhouse.

Hopefully all isn't as it seems. Alon sits at nearly 30 years of ruling Castamere, longer than many live. His death portends changes, no doubt massive ones. Tyland glances over at Otto. Of course, when those changes happen, Tyland will be questioned. He purses his lips together. He must speak with Alon anyway. It might be prudent to go out of his way to befriend Alon. Certainly, he doesn't think it would hurt.

Elayna is next to exit the wheelhouse. When Elayna descends, Tyland’s gaze focuses on her. A quiet feeling builds within his gut. Without speaking a word to her, Tyland instinctively knows Elayna would ruin him were he a younger man. She's gorgeous, and the way she carries herself makes it clear she is aware of this fact. Watching her brings memories of the women his age at Casterly Rock, the ones who marry early because many sought them out.

She surveys the crowd with an air of nervousness and excitement in equal measure, but Tyland sees a quiet coldness lurking beneath the surface. It's in her eyes. They're wide with awe yet it isn't fixed. When her eyes move from person to person, the awe and apprehension slip, not overt enough most would notice but enough Tyland notes it. The look is no longer alarming but almost familiar, stirring a sense of recognition within him.

Elayna counts. Elayna counts like him.

Elayna sits with her own abacus, pulling the people along the track into where she thinks they belong. Obviously, others do the same. Sitting on the Small Council gives Tyland a perfect view of how many people scheme and plot here, but they move people differently than him. Tyland stares at Elayna for a moment, waiting for the expression to return. Words aren't his speciality, numbers are, meaning he couldn't explain why he recognizes she moves people like him, at least on the initial step. Yet he feels it within his bones and chest, sensation spreading from his heart and disseminating outward, she's like him.

Still, the worry from earlier gnaws at him, tempering his elation. Her counting is merely the first step, how she sorts and what she does are two different steps entirely. As surely as he recognizes Elayna is like him, he also sees the differences begin. Being wanted by others sets them apart. Tyland hears of it happening every year, how young men and women who are desired become different once they realize the hold they have over others.

“Don't let her smile fool you.” Tymon's voice nearly makes Tyland jump. He realizes, rather belated, he was staring at Elayna. Tyland turns his head. Tymon keeps his gaze forward. “She may seem friendly, but I assure you, she is not.”

“Oh?” Tyland arches an eyebrow.

“Yes. I made the mistake of befriending Elayna before I truly got to know her, and while Lord Reyne is content with his position, his daughter strives for more. If you understand my meaning.” Tymon sniffs. “I don't like using the word ambitious towards women because it seems... ugly.”

It seems Johanna wasn't exaggerating in her letter. Tyland merely nods.

“I see.”

What can he say to such a statement? Tymon presses his lips together. He stares at Alon and Elayna, watching intently as both Queen Alicent and Otto greet them. Tymon exhales after a long minute. His fingers flex against his sides.

“Cerelle will corroborate.”

Of course Tyland gazes at Cerelle, intent on gauging her reaction. Much to his surprise, Cerelle looks at Elayna with a strangely wistful expression, one Tyland is intimately acquainted with. Cerelle clears her throat.

“Perhaps we should speak with others. I don't wish to monopolize your time, Uncle.” Cerelle's mask falls perfectly into place, an excited young girl once more. Tyland turns towards Johanna.

“Shall we have supper together? Tomorrow night?”

Tyland offers not only out of politeness but also curiosity. It gives him an excuse to pry and find out more, unearth the history clearly at play here. Besides, Johanna will no doubt want to speak with him as soon as possible. Johanna dips her head.

“Yes. That would be nice.”

The three of them move towards the next group. Tyland presses his lips together. Already, he must exchange his abacus for a more useful instrument. These new pieces of information cannot be slid, he must analyze them.

The sound of a cane on stone makes him turn. Alon and Elayna approach him, Ryman lingering behind them.

“Ser Tyland. It has been quite some time.”

“Lord Reyne. It has indeed.”

“This is my daughter, Elayna.” Alon gestures to Elayna. Elayna curtsies. Tyland dips his head in response. When she stands once more, their eyes meet. Tyland waits with baited breath for a sign, an indication, she recognizes they are alike in some manner. The hope is juvenile, a fleeting and foolish emotion, but it burns within him.

He sees it. Tyland’s eyes catch hers as she appraises him. Her eyes widen, guilt crossing her face. Tyland smiles, not for politeness sake but to ease her worries. Elayna blinks. He almost sees her breath catch in her throat and then release, shoulders dropping a fraction. The recognition creeps into her hazel eyes. Tyland’s heart speeds up.

“It is an honor to meet you. Lady Johanna speaks very highly of you.”

Elayna's voice is lower pitched than he expects but not unpleasantly so. Quite the opposite, in fact. Much to his surprise, he hears more of a Castamere accent than a Casterly Rock one, and it sends a small bit of warmth through his body.

“I'm heartened to hear that.” Tyland murmurs. “She has spoke of you to me as well. She says you've been an excellent friend to my niece.”

Elayna positively beams at his words. A strange ache forms within Tyland’s chest at the sight and blooms outward, filling him with a pleasant, almost buzzing, sensation. The corners of his lips lift, curling into a small smile in response.

"You flatter me.” Elayna tucks a stray strand of hair back into her braid. She looks at him from beneath her eyelashes for the briefest of seconds.

“I speak the truth.”

Elayna grins. She ducks her head in an attempt to hide it. Alon gently clears his throat. The throat clear is meant for Elayna, and she straightens up at it. Still, her smile remains. It sends blossoming warmth through his entire body. Alon steps forward.

“When you have the chance, I should like to catch up more fully with you.” Alon keeps his voice low. Elayna stays back a pace, but her head turns towards her father, clearly wanting to know what he's saying. Tyland nods.

“Of course. If your travels were not too strenuous, perhaps we can do so this afternoon?” Johanna’s letter tells him what she wants from him but Alon's intent remains a mystery. This piece of information means he can better approach what Johanna asks of him.

“That sounds excellent to me.” Alon nods, lifting his cane slightly and rapping it on the ground. “Perhaps we can meet while the girls settle in? It will take me less time to get comfortable.”

“I have some work I must do, but once it is done, I shall let you know.”

“Excellent.” Alon steps back. “I shall see you later today then.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser Tyland.” Elayna curtsies.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Elayna's eyes light up with delight, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Pride surges through Tyland. Her reaction is genuine, and the realization makes his head spin slightly. Jason gets those sorts of reactions, never him. Alon begins walking, and Elayna dutifully follows, keeping close to his elbow.

A squeal of delight interrupts his reverie. He turns. Elayna steps away from Alon as Abrogail runs towards her. The cousins meet in the middle, both of them eagerly clasping the other's forearm. They chatter excitedly. Alon shakes his head, but even from behind, Tyland senses it's a fond head shake. He turns his attention towards the cousins.

He studies them closely. Abrogail and Prince Aegon are close, close enough people talk. He suspects within the next two or three years, the idea of marriage between the two will surface. Even if it doesn't, it's obvious Abby will always have Aegon's ear, whether she is aware of it or not.

If Elayna and Abby remain close, then Elayna may have an indirect line to Aegon. While Viserys still lives, Rhaenyra sits as heir, but all her legitimacy dies in the eyes of the Small Council when Viserys does. None of them speak it outright yet moves are made every day for this inevitability. A line to the future King would never hurt. Certainly, it would aid Tyland’s ten year plan.

Another bead slides.

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

His brief conversation with Elayna lingers in his mind as he goes about his duties the rest of the day.

Several fruitless hours pass.

Tyland stares at the ledger in front of him. Ordinarily, he distracts himself after an important conversation, finding he gains more after he gives himself time. Reviewing a conversation too soon leads to obsessing over what was said and unsaid, which, ironically, means he misses the key points because he bogs himself down in the minutiae. Yet he cannot think of anything else. All he pictures is Elayna's smile.

Maybe this is beneficial. Meeting her does change how he views Johanna’s letter. He is only a man; bright eyes, a pretty smile, and sincere flattery do work wonders. However, as much as he is taken with Elayna's appearance, and he is taken he cannot deny it, he keeps the warnings in mind as well. More accurately, Tyland reminds himself of Johanna’s words, not Tymon's.

Tymon may be blood, but blood doesn't guarantee brains. Tymon's youth also factors in Tyland’s opinions. Tymon is barely ten and eight, what can he possibly know? Tyland isn't entirely unsympathetic, truly. He remembers what it was like when he came to King's Landing, only ten and nine, a year older than Tymon. Tyland winces softly as a particularly embarrassing memory comes forward.

Tyland sighs. After a second, he caves to his desires and rubs small circles on his temple, even though it won't alleviate the pressure. Of course, it cannot be simple. Nothing directly involving him ever can be, despite his best efforts. He rests his hands on the table in front of him, careful of the ink in the ledger. After a moment, he exhales and looks towards the ceiling.

No answers come. No divine inspiration strikes. No help in any shape arrives. Tyland closes his eyes. Once again, he must come up with his own solutions and deliver himself.

Speaking with Alon is a start. Tyland opens his eyes, nodding softly. All he needs is a starting place. While he loathes not having a concrete plan of action, it makes him quite literally itch on occasion, he doesn't have enough information for a plan. He needs cursory research, and meeting with Alon provides it.

Tyland gathers himself. At supper, he shall glean more information, learn what he can. A single stray tidbit may aid his cause and center him, give him direction and purpose. The meeting with Alon will be of tremendous help; knowing Alon's plan will, at the very least, give him a bargain chip.

Tyland stands up, closing the ledger. Surely Alon is settled by now. He could wait, he supposes, but the thought doesn't sit right within him.

The walk to Alon's apartments doesn't take him as long as he expects. Alon’s position gives him a more than decent apartment, so Tyland doesn't have far to travel.

Alon greets him cordially. He stands without aid but stays close to the wall. Weariness clings to him like a coat. Without the pressure of presentations and greeting, Alon relaxes. Tyland notes the bags under Alon's eyes and the slight discomfort and stiffness in his posture.

“Ser Tyland.”

“Lord Reyne. I hope I'm not disturbing you.” Tyland pauses. “If you are not quite settled in yet, I don't mind speaking at a later time. We do not have to make time now.”

He does mind. Alon’s condition is the reason he offers. Alon shakes his head almost vehemently.

“Nonsense. I will always make time for those from home. Certainly, I shall make time for an esteemed member of the Small Council.” He steps aside, and Tyland enters.

“How are you finding things here? Are they as you remember when you were younger?”

Alon shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh.

“Things are quite... different. I don't recall the Faith of the Seven having as much hold, but. My memory may be failing me in my old age.” Alon keeps his face impassive and schooled, but a slight glimmer in his eyes betrays him. Tyland lowers his head and presses his lips together in a bid to keep his expression neutral.

“My memory must be failing me as well then.”

A hiccup of a laugh escapes Alon, lips twitching. He presses them together. The barely suppressed grin betrays him trying not to laugh. After a moment, he clears his throat. Warm civility falls naturally into place.

“Prithee, come in. Have a seat.” Alon gestures towards the main room of the apartment. Tyland steps forward and further into the space. Despite it being early in Alon's stay, Tyland glances around the area. Living spaces often tell much about a person. A book case catches his attention. It stands mostly empty except for several books on the top shelf. They're old and worn, not doubt memorized from how many times they've been read.

“ ‘Tis actually fortuitous you came by. I was about to come speak with you myself.” Tyland turns his attention back to Alon. Alon gestures towards one of the highball chairs. Tyland takes a seat, Alon following and sitting in the chair across from him.

“Yes. I am sorry about the delay. Several matters were more complicated than I thought initially.”

“I figured as much. As Master of Ships, you must be busy.”

Tyland nearly preens at the mention of his title. He is but a man, and while he pretends otherwise, flattery and recognition of his status do grease the wheels. He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter.

“You said you wished to speak with me?” Tyland settles his hands in his lap.

“I did.” Alon dips his head. “ ‘Tis about my daughter.”

“I see. Johanna said you might wish to speak about Elayna.”

“Did she now?” Alon raises an eyebrow. Tyland tries his best not to swallow or stumble.

“Nothing bad. She merely suggested it. She seems to think I might be of use. I actually wanted to speak with you myself about it so I may know more.” Tyland watches Alon carefully. “She did not elaborate much on the issue. Out of deference to you, I assume.”

“Johanna is very proactive. I do wish she had informed me she was writing you. To answer your question, we both wanted to talk to you about Elayna's future.” Alon stops. He presses his lips together as he carefully selects his next sentence. “I need someone to watch Elayna while she is here. Someone who will keep her on the right path.”

Alon opens his mouth and then stops. A brief look of concern crosses his face before a loud, harsh cough escapes him. The sound comes from deep within his throat, and Tyland leans forward, ready to call a Maester at any moment. Alon manages to reach for his drink with unsteady hands. As he does, his sleeve falls down his arm some, revealing dark and angry bruises. Tyland’s eyes flick from the bruising to Alon's face. Alon drinks deeply and greedily before setting down his goblet. When Alon lowers the goblet, Tyland catches the smell of the concoction, heart dropping some at the implications. The look must show on his face for Alon sighs.

“I bruise rather easily these days. ‘Tis no one's fault but my own.”

“You should have the maesters take a look at them.” Tyland frowns. Alon waves him away.

“The maesters have more important people to attend to.” Despite Tyland’s position, the authority in Alon's voice keeps his mouth shut. Tyland leans back in the chair. Alon coughs once more, this one not as violent. He clears his throat after, the look of irritation on his face one Tyland understands.

"I know it is a lot to ask. But I would not ask if it wasn't important.” Alon's voice comes out strained. Tyland leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs.

"Your illness has progressed, hasn't it?"

Between the strong herbal stench coming from Alon's drink and the loss of vitality, Tyland feels confident in what the answer will be. Alon’s frail state all but confirms his suspicions. Still, he needs to hear it from Alon. Alon presses his lips together. He looks away for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"The maesters say I will be lucky if I see next summer." He scoffs. "They know much, but I know my body and my will better than them. I have two more winters in me." He turns his attention back to Tyland. "Two winters isn't as much as I would like. I need to ensure Elayna's security before then. You're the only one I trust to treat her properly.”

Tyland blinks. He pauses and then clears his throat. As Alon's only daughter, Alon is always fiercely protective of Elayna. Pride swells within him but doesn't go far as his brain recalls Johanna’s letter. Alon isn't putting forth a betrothal but mentorship.

“If it is truly so much of a-”

“No!” Tyland pauses. “No, I mean. Yes. Yes, I will watch her, it would not be a burden. I merely...” Tyland stops. He tries collecting his words. Alon raises an eyebrow in vague amusement. “Why ask me? Would it not make more sense to betroth her to someone and have them ensure her safety?”

Alon dips his head. He presses his lips together and drums his fingers on his lap for a second. Eventually, he gathers the correct words.

“ ‘Tis hard to explain to someone without children, but. No matter how well you treat them and try to do what's best for them. Occasionally, instead of doing right by them, you wrong them. I fear I err'ed in my judgement. It was what was best at the time yet I don't find solace in that knowledge. I... I do not wish for Elayna's last memories of me to be me doing wrong by her again.”

Alon's voice cracks, tears welling up in his eyes. A surge of panic briefly overtakes Tyland. Should he... does he comfort Alon or avert his eyes and pretend he never saw? Alon sighs. He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, clears his throat. Full dignity and determination return to his voice, an even keel once more.

“She is prideful and stubborn, which means finding her a lord husband is no easy task. Too many men see a difficult woman and see something either to be tamed or broken. My daughter will not receive the same treatment as an errant horse. I also know if she doesn't want to do something, she will make it quite difficult.” He lets out a dry laugh. “She comes by it honestly. Her sin is my sin. It must be her decision, or at least appear to be her decision.”

Alon fixes Tyland with a look piercing into Tyland’s very soul. His green eyes see through Tyland's physical body and into his character. Instead of shrinking back, Tyland meets him evenly. He keeps his gaze on Alon's, unblinking. Whatever Alon seeks, he shall not find it in a man who shrinks before him; Tyland shall meet Alon where he stands. Alon nods and blinks once, the silent and wordless approval sending a rush of pride and euphoria through Tyland.

“I know we haven't spoken in many years, but you would not be where you are if you weren't patient and reasonable. Elayna needs a guiding hand. I trust you. I trust you to keep her even keeled, and I trust you to give her sound advice. I don't want someone with their own ambitions clouding her judgement. She has enough of them on her own.”

This time, Tyland allows himself to preen. His chest puffs out slightly, and he lifts his head a little higher. His spine softly cracks as he sits up a little straighter.

“I appreciate your words.” He murmurs, attempting to downplay his reaction. Alon’s eyes sparkle.

“I speak only the truth.”

Tyland clears his throat. Alon’s praise feels genuine, and for once in his life, Tyland isn't sure what to do. He falls back onto the tried and true scripts.

“I am honored you asked me. I shall ensure Elayna makes the best decisions.”

“Excellent.” Alon smiles. It's a genuine smile, full of warmth and appreciation. “It should not be too difficult. I also asked Lia to keep an eye on Elayna as well for when Johanna returns to Casterly Rock.”

Tyland leans forward despite himself. He arches an eyebrow.

“Lia?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure I follow your logic.” Tyland tilts his head slightly. Alon’s eyes glitter.

“You are more than suited to guide Elayna through most of the political world, but parts of it neither you nor I can teach. And as much as I respect Lady Johanna, her politics are more suited to Casterly Rock.”

Tyland takes a moment, absorbing Alon's words. It makes sense. Tyland can help guide Elayna through certain decisions based on what he knows about the people around him, but she would need another woman's help when it comes to balancing the heart with reality. Slowly, Tyland sits upright. He nods, an impressed expression slipping onto his face. Alon continuously surprises him.

“I must confess. I never would have thought of that.”

“ ‘Tis my job as a father to think of these things.” Alon smiles at the compliment nevertheless.

“I'm sure she appreciates it.” Tyland murmurs. He watches more weariness seep into Alon's being. Alon coughs again, this one not as severe as earlier but nevertheless painful. He clears his throat.

“I am sorry to say this, but I fear my travels are finally catching up to me.” Alon's voice comes out a bit strained and weak, a bit of exhaustion creeping into it.

“I understand. It is long trip.” Tyland stands slowly. Alon starts as well, but Tyland stops him. “You need your rest. I can see myself out.”

#persephone writes #Tyland Lannister x OC #Fic: Wheel of Fortune #oc: elayna reyne #oc: tymon lannister #oc: alon reyne #fyeahhotdocs #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #hotd ocs #house of the dragon ocs

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queen--kenobi · 7 months ago

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Last line challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Ty for the tag @patchmates !!!!!!

So. I'm gonna do two because I've got both a SFW and NSFW one going hehehe

(Putting tags up here: @emilykaldwen @baba-fett @ewanmitchellcrumbs @huramuna @lya-dustin @selfproclaimedunicorn and anyone else who might want to!)

Tylands nods. He seems content with her answer. He leans back in his desk chair, lacing his hands as he does so and placing them in his lap.

"How is your dad?"

For the NSFW

Tyland inhales sharply as Elayna moves her hand slowly up his thigh. She drags her nails lightly over the fabric of his swim trunks and moves closer towards him, nestling into his side. Tyland’s eyes go dark as he looks at her.

Elayna tilts her head up. She pauses when her lips are centimeters from his, so close if he were to just lean down the slightest bit, he could kiss her. His blue eyes focus on the curve of her lips. Elayna smirks.

"You can touch me, you know." She breathes. She takes hold of his hand and places it on her thigh, pressing his palm into the space just below the ties of her bikini.

#persephone writes #oc: elayna reyne #pairing: what happens in Paris...#fic: what happens in Paris...#Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #Tyland Lannister x OFC

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queen--kenobi · 2 days ago

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Tylana vibes ngl

#oc: elayna reyne #tylana #Tyland x Elayna

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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Day Thirteen: Presents and Praise Kink

Tyland Lannister x OC

12 Days of Smuffmas 2024

Warnings: NSFT (praise kink, cockwarming, dom!Elayna, PiV, cowgirl)

All the prompts are by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs

“You're doing so well.”

Tyland’s hands shake. Elayna smirks against his neck, her lips tantalizing close to the delicate skin. Every word brushes those sinful lips against his ear. The rose and sage oil blend she uses for her baths flood his senses; each unsteady inhale makes his head spin even more than the last one. He swallows. Carefully, he reaches towards the present, wrapped in a silken red cloth and tied tight with leather cords. Tyland leans forward as he reaches, and both of them moan at the sensation.

He brushes up against a spot deep within her. Despite her cool demeanor, Elayna fists her hands in his doublet. Tyland struggles, hands shaking as he battles the building urge to slide down onto the floor and fuck her properly. He inhales, trying to find his center.

“Merely a moment longer.” Elayna hums. She kisses his neck, unraveling more and more of his control. “You are doing so well for me. Don't ruin it.”

Tyland nods. He nearly drops the gift with how hard his hands shake. Elayna shifts, and Tyland nearly sobs. She's warm and wet and tight around him; all he wants is to fuck her, but the reward of waiting will be worth it. He begins picking at the leather with fumbling hands. Elayna rests her head in the crook of his neck. Eventually, Tyland undoes the last knot, and the silk slips away to reveal an ornate wooden box. His hands almost scratch the wood as he tries to find the opening.

“Stop.” Tyland’s hands fall away from the box at her command. Elayna rocks her hips slightly. “You can... that can wait.”

Tyland sets the box to the side. As soon as it touches the side table, Elayna takes hold of his hands and puts them on her hips. She then pulls back and places her hand on his face.

“You're so good to me.” She breathes. Tyland stares at her, completely transfixed. His hands flex, fingers digging into the meat of her hips. Her brown eyes echo the expression of lust on his face.

“I'm going to move now.” Elayna warns him. She moves up slowly, and Tyland nearly whimpers. He actually does so when she drops her hips back down.

“Good, ah, good boy.” The words fall from Elayna's lips like a prayer. Tyland swears. Elayna calls him plenty of pet names but this? This is a new one. Tyland’s head falls into the crook of Elayna’s neck. He reacts instinctively, kissing every of her skin he can reach. Elayna moans. Her hips rock. She moves with a little more purpose and agency.

“Oh, you like that? You like being my good boy?” Elayna's movements turn into a steadily building bounce. Tyland’s hips chase after hers. “Fuck. You're so good for me. You are far better to me than I deserve.”

Pleasure builds and surges through him, drowning out the slight embarrassment. Each little gasp and moan falling from Elayna's mouth only feeds the flame within him.

“I'm... I'm not nearly as good as you deserve.” It takes him a minute to find his words, all thoughts falling apart in the presence of upcoming rapture.

“You are so much better to me than I deserve. You are smart, and kind, and, ah, handsome. You are beyond perfect to me.”

The thread snaps. Elayna squeals, equal parts delight and surprise. Tyland grips her waist tightly and moves her up and down on his cock. Elayna aides him as best she can, but she only goes so fast. Tyland thrusts up into her. Elayna wraps her arms around his neck, small almost hiccuping noises leaving her. The sound of their coupling fills the room. All Tyland smells is sex. All Tyland tastes is the sweat on Elayna’s skin. All Tyland feels is Elayna.

When Elayna comes apart in his hold, Tyland tips over the edge not long after, a whine of her name on his lips. Elayna stays in his lap for a moment. She presses a kiss to his temple. Tyland reaches up and gently pushes her hair out of her face.

“I meant what I said. You are far, far better to me than I deserve.”

#oc: elayna reyne #Tyland Lannister x OC #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #12 days of smuffmas #nsft #persephone writes

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queen--kenobi · 3 months ago

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9. "It would be a scandal if they knew how often I think of you." for elayna reyne

Courting Prompts

Also tagging @mekaylynn since you asked for this one as well! I'm so sorry this took me ages to fill sdsdsd

Even from her spot tucked away in the gardens, Elayna hears the sounds of the feast. She closes her eyes for a moment. The night air feels blessedly cool, easing the warmth from her skin. She inhales slowly, trying her best to steady her breathing.

She enjoys these events. Elayna truly does. More often than not, she finds herself in the middle of the crowd, making people laugh or dancing. She refuses to stop until her feet hurt, and even then, she never strays far away from the action. She always wakes up after with her throat hoarse from talking and giggling.

She hates tonight feels different. An acrid, bitter taste lingers on her tongue. No matter how much wine she drinks or food she eats, it won't go away. It amplifies the agitation in her bones and muscles, causes her entire body to feel pulled tight like a bow string. Her jaw hurts from how hard she clenches it, baring down on her own teeth and tongue to the point of pain. She tries to swallow the irritation, but it only serves to make it worse.

Elayna huffs. She opens her eyes. She glares up at the night sky, not because it wronged her but simply because it's there. She glowers at the darkness above her. Her hands fists at her sides, fingers angrily digging into the material of her skirts.

“Elayna! There you are!”

Elayna blinks. She slowly lowers her head. Her scowl eases, slowly transforming into a soft smile despite herself. Tyland makes his way towards her, his face slightly flush but no stumble in his steps.

“Having fun?” She tries to keep her voice even. Elayna's mood sits on the knife's edge between sour and relieved. She reminds herself Tyland isn't the source of her agitation.

“Mmmhhmm. Much.” Tyland stops once he reaches her. He considers the column beside the bench she sits on and carefully leans against it, bracing himself on one forearm before deciding to lean against it fully. “I would be having a better time if you were in there with us.”

Elayna sniffs.

“I merely needed some air is all.”

“You disappeared without a word.” He frowns. A note of genuine hurt creeps into his voice. Irritation sweeps through her. What does he have to be hurt about?

“I would have thought your new friend would have kept you appraised.”

Elayna turns her head away. Her anger turns inward as soon as she speaks, the bitter feeling double crossing her. She hates this. She should be better than this. She shouldn't let petty jealousy get under her skin in such a manner.

“My new friend?” Seven bless him, Tyland does seem genuinely confused. He blinks. The hurt frown shifts to a pinched look. “I don't- oh! No. No! I wouldn’t call her my friend. She...” He pauses. Elayna bites her tongue. If she were in a forgiving mood, him losing his train of thought for a second would be endearing.

“She seems to think you're friends.” Elayna picks at a stray thread on her dress. Tyland shakes his head.

“No. She...” He pauses. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Elayna shakes her head. Wordlessly, she scoots over on the bench. Tyland settles in beside her. He isn't exactly graceful with it, the wine clearly beginning to take hold.

“I knew her growing up. I never... I never cared for her but was polite. All she ever wanted was Jason's attention. When she didn't get that, she tried for mine. I was more than relieved when I heard she had been married off.”

“Oh.” Her anger subsides slowly. She tries to ignore the sense of foolishness creeping over her. “I see.” She tilts her head, an errant thought crossing her mind. Perhaps the wine has gotten to her as well because she can't stop herself. “If she is married, why was she so. Overtly familiar with you?”

Tyland shrugs.

“Sometimes I think people mistake my politeness for gullibility.” A dark edge creeps into his tone. “Or they believe Jason's stupidity to be mine as well.”

Elayna snorts. “If they bothered to actually pay attention, they would see that's not the case.” Tyland makes a small noise. Elayna turns her head to look at him fully. “If it helps, I don't think you stupid. I know you're very smart.”

Without letting herself think about it, Elayna reaches out and gently touches his hand. She means it as a gesture of comfort, nothing more and nothing less. Her heart doesn't get the memo, skipping a few beats.

She expects him to recoil or pull away, but Tyland doesn't. Instead, he almost absent-mindedly slips his fingers through hers. Tyland hums. A quiet, almost far away look slips across his face. After a moment, he comes back to himself. He blinks and turns to face her.

“She isn't a threat. You are aware of that. Aren't you?”

“I'm not sure I follow.” Elayna clears her throat in an attempt to suppress a giggle suddenly threatening to rise out of her chest. Tyland watches her.

“It would be a scandal if they knew how often I think of you.”

All of the air leaves Elayna's lungs at once. She stares at him, eyes wide. The low timbre of his voice stirs a fire within her, causing her thighs to clench together ever so slightly. Her lips part slightly. Tyland’s eyes gravitate towards her lips.

“How often is that?” Her breath hitches mid-sentence. She leans towards him a little bit, helplessly drawn in. Her head spins but not from the wine. Tyland’s eyes move up from her lips to her eyes.

“Daily.” He murmurs.

Her heart beat thrums through her entire body. She swallows.

“I think of you too often.” She confesses. Elayna holds onto the boldness prompting her to speak. “Daily. Nightly.”

Tyland’s eyes go wide at her words. He inhales sharply. She watches his throat bob. Elayna wants to trace the lines of his neck with her tongue. She's so close to him she could if she truly desired.

The sound of laughter snaps both of them out of their reverie. Elayna pulls away first, head turning to see who exactly might be coming their way. Tyland stays still for a moment, a slightly dazed look on his face.

“We... we should go back.” Elayna states after a moment. “We don't want people to worry.”

“We should.”

Neither of them move. Elayna realizes Tyland has yet to let go of her hand.

“I...” Elayna inhales. “Or. Ummm. I have needed a bit to recover so perhaps. Perhaps instead you assist me to my chambers?”

“Assist you to- oh. Yes. Yes, I want to. I want to do that. Just to make sure you make it alright since you were out here for quite a bit of time.”

Elayna smiles softly.

“Shall we then?”

#oc: elayna reyne #Tyland Lannister x OFC #Tyland Lannister x OC #HotD OCs #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #persephone writes

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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“Do I need to make it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Tyland struggles to breath for a second.

“I don't think-”

“I know you want to fuck me.” She closes the gap between them. Her entire body presses against his. “I'm not stupid. I see the way you look at me. The way you look at my legs and ass when you don't think I'm paying attention. The way you try not to stare when I don't wear a bra. Stopped wearing one because I like you looking at my tits. I like it when you look at me like that, like you want to bend me over the nearest surface.”

All of the blood rushes out of Tyland’s head. He tries to grasp onto reason, but it slips steadily through his fingers.

“I don't want to take advantage-” He inhales sharply. Elayna brings the hand not on his chest down to his cock, straining against his jeans. She doesn't just palm him but begins to stroke him through the material. “-of you. God. Don't stop.”

“Thought you didn't want to take advantage of me.” She teases. Elayna's eyes focus on his lips. Each of his breaths pushes his chest against hers. He feels how hard her nipples are despite the layers between them. He even feels the press of her piercings against him. “I want this. I want you. I've wanted you for a while now.”

“Oh, fuck.” Tyland’s hands flex at his sides. He scrambles to latch onto reason. His mouth and body aren't on the same page as his brain. “How... how long have you wanted this?”

#oc: elayna reyne #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #Tyland Lannister x OC

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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Happy Christmas Eve! Have the pegging fic rolling around my brain at the worst possible moment ehehehe

Tyland Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne)

Warnings: NSFT (anal/pegging, doggy style, fem dom, dirty talk, implied bdsm dynamic, breeding kink, piv riding). Explicitly bi!Tyland

“Breathe.” Elayna runs her thumb gently over his hip in a slow, sweeping motion. “I need you to breathe and relax for me, my darling.”

Tyland’s head falls forward. He nods and slowly inhales. The bed creaks behind him as Elayna shifts, and Tyland turns his head. A blunt pressure presses against him; Tyland almost hurts his neck in his attempt to see. Elayna laughs softly. It isn't so much he doesn't trust Elayna, he wouldn't let her be in this position if he didn't, but more Tyland has never found himself on the receiving end.

His dalliances with other men never involve him being penetrated.

“Perhaps we should do this in front of a mirror next time since you so desperately want to see.” A wicked promise lingers underneath her words. She leans down and presses a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Don't tease.” Tyland tries and fails to find authority in his voice. Despite his best efforts and several moons of preparation, nerves swirl through him as the cold stone of the toy presses against his asshole. Elayna kisses him again.

“Is it teasing if I would like to do it?” Elayna straightens herself. “Breathe for me. If it hurts, you need to tell me.”

Tyland nods. He swallows and then slowly lets out a shaky exhale. Elayna waits for his inhale before she ever so slowly pushes into him, the oil they used to open him up and slick the dildo helping ease the sting and stretch. His arms shake as Elayna presses her hips forward. He vaguely registers Elayna praising him and reminding him to breathe.

Finally, the head of the dildo slips past the ring of muscle. Tyland chokes. Elayna stops. She rubs his hip with her thumb once more as she brings her other hand up to his shoulders, gently digging her fingers into the knots where his shoulders bunch up by his neck. It takes a minute, but the knots fall apart under her touch, shoulders falling away from his ears as she does so.

“There we go.” Elayna coos. Tyland’s head drops. His cock twitches at the faux gentleness in her tone, not quite mocking but not entirely sincere either. “Can you take more?”

“Yes.”

He can and will, the two of them building up to this moment with prep. Tyland takes three fingers when he's worked open. Elayna hums. She rolls her hips, and more slips inside Tyland. He appreciates her taking it slow. His hands unclench and fingers spread as he releases the sheets from his grip. Arousal builds steadily within him. Between the care and tenderness Elayna shows him and this fantasy playing out, it isn't long before his cock stirs fully to life.

Each of Elayna’s thrusts pushes more and more into him until, eventually, her hip sit against his ass. The leather of the harness brushes against the back of his thighs. He looks back over his shoulder at Elayna. The way her greedy eyes take him in sends delightful shivers up his spine. Elayna looks as if she wants to eat him alive, consume him whole and keep him nestled inside her ribcage. Her gaze meets his. She smiles.

“You are... so handsome.” She breathes. The praise goes straight to Tyland’s head, although he ducks his head, wanting to conceal his blush. Elayna runs one hand along his spine.

She keeps a steady pace when she starts moving again. Tyland moans softly. The sensation is different, and the uncomfortable edge fades into pleasure. He pushes his hips back. Elayna takes her cue and speeds up her movements. The sound of skin against skin fills the air. Tyland gasps when Elayna slips her hand underneath him and takes his dick into her hand. She begins stroking him in rhythm with her thrusts, although it takes her a minute. Tyland’s whine encourages her. With each roll of her hips, she gains confidence; it isn't long before she fucks him with enthusiasm.

Tyland’s arms tremble once more. Elayna leans down and takes hold of his hair, brushing it over one of his shoulders. She moves her hips in a relentless motion. The new angle makes him moan. Elayna grins deviously into his neck before licking the beads of sweat on his skin, trailing the flat of her tongue along every inch of his neck. She rolls her hips and hits a spot inside of him making him cry out in pleasure. His arms finally give out, and Tyland falls onto his forearms.

Elayna's left hand snakes into his hair and curl, grabbing his roots. Her right hand comes up and rests on his left pectoral.

“And where exactly do you think you're going?” An edge creeps into her voice. Tyland gasps.

Elayna uses her grip and almost yanks him into her; she pushes back onto her haunches and pulls him into her lap. It drives the toy further into him and slides it in agonizing perfection along where she hit earlier. Tyland’s eyes roll back into his head. He moves of his own accord, searching for euphoria. Elayna does her best to meet him by rocking up into him. His head falls back onto her shoulder. Elayna nips his ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” Elayna almost growls. “Did you merely need to get fucked?”

Before Tyland even attempts an answer, Elayna bites the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth scraping along the skin. He cries out.

“Elayna, ngh, fuck. Elayna, if you don't stop, I...”

“I know. ‘Tis all so much.”

To her credit, Elayna stills her motions. Tyland pants.

“You know you cannot come unless you are inside me.”

Tyland shifts. He winces as the toy slides out of him. Elayna kisses his shoulder and spine as an apology. He almost falls forward onto his hands as his thighs quake so hard they nearly give out on him. Elayna lets out a noise suspiciously similar to a laugh.

“On your back.”

She at least sounds as breathless as he feels. Tyland rolls onto his back, listening to the jingles as Elayna undoes the buckles on the harness. He sits up when he sees her struggle with it. Tyland helps her pull the straps off her legs, Elayna's impatience slowing her down. She places the toy on the chest at the end of the bed before kicking the harness all the way off.

“Come here.” Tyland reaches for Elayna. Elayna comes willingly, kissing Tyland once she's close enough. Tyland lets her push him back down onto his back. Elayna throws her leg over him. Tyland hisses softly when he feels how wet she is. He places his hands on her hips as he looks up at her with awe and reverence.

“You got wet from that?” His voice cracks for a second. Elayna nods. Tyland chokes on nothing. The idea she's so wet merely from watching him and touching him, wet without him touching her, sends his head spinning.

“Yes.” She almost hisses. Elayna takes him in hand and slowly sinks down. She rocks her hips and raises up and then down several times before her hips meet his. She shifts and plants her feet. Elayna begins moving, bouncing slowly and gradually building up momentum. Tyland uses his grip and lifts her up and down.

He shan't last long. Tyland’s toes curl, thighs trembling and chest heaving. Every bit of his body sings with arousal. Watching Elayna's face as she succumbs to pleasure gets him closer and closer. His blood pounds through his veins. The bed creaks and squeaks with each bounce.

“Are you going to come in me? Are you going to give us heirs?” Tyland nods, words seemingly so far away as fire licks up his spine. Elayna grins. “Yeah? You going to get me pregnant? Are you going to give me, ah fuck, give me cubs? I want... I want to give you that. Want to have your kids.”

The desperation in her voice tips him over the edge. Tyland throws his head back. His whole body goes taut as he ruts up into her. He registers Elayna laughing breathlessly; he also feels her slow her motions. She places her hand over one of his as he begins to come down. Eventually, Tyland catches his breath.

“That was- shit!”

His back nearly bows. Elayna barely lets him get out those two words before she begins moving again. Pleasure and pain blend together for a moment as the final flames of his orgasm blend with the sudden oversensitivity to Elayna’s movements. Elayna smirks.

"Oh, did you think I was done with you? I'm merely getting started."

#oc: elayna reyne #persephone writes #Tyland Lannister x oc #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #NSFT

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queen--kenobi · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day Seventeen: Biting

Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Warnings: sooooo technically this has no sex but the not sex is sex? Biting and blood play are on the table because this has vampire!Elayna

Elayna noses the side of Tyland’s neck. His pulse jumps. His heart beats faster, reverberating in his rib cage, and Elayna’s eyes roll back as the sensation travels from his chest to hers. She tastes the spike of arousal thick on her tongue and flooding her nostrils. Underneath the bermagont and mint, he smells musky. She inhales deeply.

“You smell good.”

Her lips brush against his skin with every word. Tyland’s breath catches for a moment. Elayna's gums itch. He's making it hard not to sink her fangs into him. She wants to taste not just his blood on her tongue but his ecstacy, the high of his orgasm. The worst part is he doesn't know his mere reactions are driving her towards a frenzy.

“We cannot.” Tyland manages a composed tone tinged with a bit of worry. The fact he holds it together despite the arousal seeping from him causes Elayna to squirm. It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, they pull her back to the present.

He's right. Elayna closes her eyes. Tyland is right; they cannot. Her fingers dig into his doublet anyway. If they were to get caught, it would be a scandal. Besides, even if they could, it's dangerous right now. She could hurt him easily. Elayna should go back to her food and away from here, away from him.

“I don't want to go.” Elayna murmurs. The words fall from her mouth unbidden.

“You and I both know if you don't go now...” He trails off. Tyland wants this, she knows he does. She still smells his arousal.

“What if we do?” His pulse speeds up at her word. “I want this. I want you.”

Elayna noses the side of his neck again. His pulse jumps underneath her lips. Seven be good, she can almost taste him on her tongue. Tyland exhales, and the slight shakiness of his breath makes her lips curl. She follows her impulse and presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Please.”

Elayna can't help her triumphant smirk. Tyland’s heart actually skips a beat. His breath catches, she hears it and feels it where their chests meet. Whether or not he realizes it, she's already won. Tyland almost subconsciously tilts his head a little to give her more room.

“Just this once.”

They both know it won't be just this one time. Still, Elayna nods.

“Just this one.”

Elayna settles her lips on his neck. He tenses. She kisses the spot she's chosen, where his blood truly sings to her, in order to relax him. She gets it; everyone expects pain.

“Breathe for me.”

Tyland does. Elayna slowly sinks her fangs into his neck. He stiffens in her hold for a second, no doubt from the pain. She squeezes his bicep sympathetically. If her mouth weren't full, she'd tell him she knows, she gets it. However, Elayna can't. If she pulls away now, it'll hurt more when she goes back.

When his blood hits her tongue, Elayna's eyes nearly roll back into her head. Fuck. Tyland tastes even better than he smells. She pulls him closer with a hand between his shoulder blades, fingers splayed. Tyland’s breathing changes, going from short and shallow to half breathes. Tyland brings one hand up to the back of her head. His fingers hesitantly thread through her hair. A pleased growl eminates from Elayna, and the spike of arousal in his blood makes her dig her fangs in deeper.

It isn't long before the grip on her hair tightens. The slight sting brings Elayna back to the present, and she opens her eyes.

“Elayna. Enough.” Tyland’s voice drops an octave. Elayna grunts. She hears the command in his tone, but the thought of letting go now hurts. Tyland tugs on her hair a little more harshly. She pulls away with a displeased noise. Blood runs in small rivulets down her chin. Tyland’s eyes are wide, pupils blown out.

“Why did you stop me?” She fights to keep the whine out of her voice. “I wasn't anywhere near hurting you.”

Elayna knows why. If she had kept on any longer, any and all sense of decorum between them would have evaporated. Still. She wants to hear it from him. Absent-mindedly, she brings her fingers up to her chin and collects what's there. Elayna cleans her fingers, slipping each one into her mouth with a soft pop and licking the blood from them.

Tyland sighs her name. “We cannot. I should not have even indulged you to begin with.” Despite the harshness of his words, a slight tinge of regret creeps into them.

“Tell me. Tell me to go, and I shall, no questions asked.” Elayna searches his eyes, although she isn't sure for what. Tyland swallows. The motion causes a small bead of blood to well up on his neck. Elayna's eyes instantly focus on that point.

“Tell me to go, and I will.” Elayna reiterates. Tyland inhales, closing his eyes. He exhales slowly and deliberately. Elayna's own breath catches in her throat as she waits for his answer. While she doesn't think he wants her to go, she worries he might tell her to for both of their sake. The battle plays out on his face. Eventually, he opens his eyes.

“Just this once.”

“Just this once.” Elayna echoes, the lie slipping between her teeth. She knows it isn't for her but for him. Once was never an option, only never or always.

Perhaps, Elayna muses as she lowers her head back down, never wasn't even an option in the first place.

#oc: elayna reyne #Tyland Lannister x OC #Tyland Lannister x OFC #NSFT #kinktober 2024 #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #persephone writes

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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A collection of all my independent/one-shot Tyland and Elayna fics! Most of these are NSFT. Those fics will be marked with a 🌶, but still, I might miss one or two

Ask prompts

You Talk Too Much

"It would be a scandal..."

Wrapping presents

Character has a nightmare and can't go back to sleep by themselves

Kinktober 2024

Day 4: Stockings (18+, 🌶)

Day 5: Praise Kink (18+, 🌶)

Day 14: Sensory Deprivation (18+, 🌶)

Day 17: Biting/bite marks (18+, 🌶)

Day 21: Nipple Play (18+, 🌶)

Day 22: Breeding Kink (18+, 🌶)

Day 28: Masks/costumes (18+, 🌶)

Day 29: Shower sex (18+, 🌶)

Day 30: Spanking (18+, 🌶)

Day 31: Aftercare (18+, 🌶)

Smuffmas 2024 Fics

Smuffmas Day Twelve: Candlelight and Collaring (18+, 🌶)

Smuffmas Day Thirteen: Presents and Praise Kink (18+, 🌶)

Smuffmas Day Fourteen: Blizzards and Blowjobs (18+, 🌶)

Smuffmas Day Fifteen: Mulled Wine and Mutual Masturbation (18+, 🌶)

Smuffmas Day Seventeen: Tinsel and Dirty Talk (18+, 🌶)

One-shots

Breathe (18+, 🌶)

Like a Cigarette (Drag Out, Never Quit) (18+, 🌶)

#persephone's fic lists #Tyland Lannister x OC #oc: elayna reyne #fyeahhotdocs #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #HotD OC

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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Day Seventeen: Tinsel and Dirty Talk

Tyland Lannister x OC

Prompts are by the beloved @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Warnings: a little bit of dirty talk but that's it. Short and sweet today folks

12 Days of Smuffmas 2024

“There you are.” Tyland turns at the sound of Elayna’s voice. She rests her head on his shoulder. Tyland presses a kiss to her cheek as Elayna wraps one arm around him. The lights gleam, making the tinsel on the myriad of Christmas trees sparkle. The largest holiday party of the year clearly needs more than just one tree.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Tyland takes in Elayna’s flushed face and grin. Even after these three years of being together, his heart still skips a beat when he sees her. Elayna hums.

“I could be having more fun.”

“And what would...” He trails off as Elayna gets a positively impish look on her face. “Elayna.”

“Tyland.” She tries copying the disappointment in his voice. Elayna nearly succeeds, but she lets out the slightest giggle after she says his name. Tyland stares at her. “Oh, come on! If there's anyone to blame, it's you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Do you know just how good you look in a suit?” Elayna presses closer to him. “I should get credit for not jumping your bones in the car.”

Tyland inhales sharply. His eyes dart from side to side, even though no one else is near them.

“We're in public.” Tyland clears his throat.

“Relax. Everyone is drunk. They're only going to know if you make a big deal about it.” Elayna kisses his cheek. “Besides. It's not like I'm giving you a handy where everyone can see. I'm just talking is all.”

Tyland stiffens in her hold. Elayna wraps her other arm around his midriff but places this hand on his stomach. She kisses the side of his neck.

“We're just being affectionate like any other couple.” She offers. Tyland snorts.

“We've been together for 3 years. I know what's affection and what's you wanting sex."

Elayna smiles.

“Damn. You know me too well. But seriously. You look really good in this suit. Driving me crazy.” Elayna nips his earlobe. “Put on those stockings you like, by the way.”

Oh sweet Seven. She's truly trying to kill him. Tyland looks around the room again. Very few people stand in the room, and those in this area are clustered around the tables. No one seems to have noticed them, no glances their way or errant looks. Tyland checks his watch.

“Can you wait 30 minutes? I want to wait for others to leave before we do.”

“Mmmhhmm. Make it 15.”

“15?” Tyland turns his head, frowning. “We have to tell people we're leaving. 15 minutes isn't nearly enough time for that.”

“Okay, but. Consider. I want you, and I want you now.” Elayna kisses him. “I think I told you about the stockings, but. Did I mention I'm not wearing panties?”

Tyland nearly chokes. Elayna giggles.

“Stockings, no panties. I shaved my legs for this event so they're nice and smooth...” Elayna nips his earlobe again, her breath hot on his neck. “Is that enough or do I need to pull out the big guns?”

Oh. Tyland’s heart thrums through his body. He shifts, attempting to find a more comfortable stance.

“Not here.” Not because he doesn't want her to call him that, quite the opposite. Tyland merely knows if she does, they won't make it out to the car.

“Am I going to get what I want, then?”

Tyland sighs. He turns his head again to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You always get what you want.”

Elayna laughs. “Hey. We're both getting what we want.”

#oc: elayna reyne #Tylana #Tyland Lannister x OC #Tyland x Elayna #12 days of Smuffmas #persephone writes

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queen--kenobi · 2 months ago

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Day twelve: collaring and candlelight

Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Warnings: NSFT (collaring, m!receiving oral, cockwarming, BDSM dynamics

Agitation rolls off Elayna in waves. Even sitting with Tyland in the antechamber to their rooms doesn't settle her. She sighs repeatedly with irritation, glowering at her needlework. She stabs downward viciously. Tyland pauses reading over the missives and proposals to watch her for a second. As much as he would like to simply talk to her, Tyland’s experience tells him she's not in the mood to open up about what's bothering her.

“Elayna.”

She looks up at her name. Elayna's expression softens slightly, but the anger still lingers. Now she's looking at him, Tyland notes the stress clinging to her. He places his reading and writing to the side.

“Do you wish to talk about what's bothering you?” Even though he knows the answer he still offers. Elayna shakes her head. Tyland frowns softly. Normally she gives him a verbal response, but her unwillingness to speak worries him.

“Is there anything you need?”

Elayna sighs.

“I... I don't know.” She finally speaks, her gaze downcast. “I suppose I merely need to be more present, but I'm finding it. Difficult.” She scrunches her face. “It's hard to still my thoughts.”

Tyland nods. He studies Elayna for a second, weighing how best to help her. Several options come to mind, but none of them seem right. Elayna brings her head up to look at him.

“Would you...” Elayna purses her lips together. “Do you remember that, ah, that thing I requested?”

Tyland blinks, unsure of what exactly she's referring to. It's unlike her to use such nebulous terms. Elayna fidgets. When she brings one hand up to touch the side of her neck, it clicks into place.

“The collar?” He offers. A quiet part of him wonders why she's embarrassed to bring it up when she requested it. Elayna nods.

“Yes.” Elayna clears her throat. “Would you put it on me?”

Tyland nods and stands up slowly. Elayna watches him, eyes tracking every move. Tyland makes his way into their chambers, Elayna following after him. When he gets inside, he goes over to their wardrobe and pulls out an ornate wooden box. He unlatches the box. The collar sits inside. The collar is a soft leather, ermine lining the inside. He turns around and takes it out of the box.

Elayna turns her back to him and moves her braids to the side. His fingers gently brush against the back of her neck as he fastens the leather into place. Goosebumps follow in their wake. Even before he finishes fastening her collar, Tyland notices the changes in her demeanor. Elayna's shoulders drop away from her ears, her breathing slows and deepens, and her jaw eases some. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, just above the leather, and Elayna sighs.

“Better?”

“Yes. Much.” Elayna turns slowly to face him. Tension eases from her jaw and forehead, a slight smile creeping onto her face. Tyland reaches forward and hooks one finger through the ring in the front, gently pulling her forward. Elayna goes willing. Her eyes flutter closed when he kisses her. He keeps the kiss soft, letting her ease into the floaty feeling. When he pulls away, Elayna lets out a satisfied noise. Tyland brings one hand up to her face. He gently swipes his thumbs across her lower lip.

“I need to finish my letters. Do you want to wait in our chambers? Or do you want to stay out here?”

Tyland scans her face. Elayna trusts him enough to be vulnerable around him; the very idea of betraying her or making her uncomfortable twists his stomach into painful knots. He gives her these options to keep her comfort.

Elayna blinks. Her lips part ever so slightly.

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course.”

Tyland kisses Elayna again before placing a hand on her back. He leads her back over to his desk. Elayna stands by the edge of it, watching him. Tyland grabs a pillow from the settee and sets it on the ground beside his chair. She waits until he starts writing before she stands beside him, sinking to her knees slowly. Tyland reaches down and gently sink his fingers into her hair. He scratches her scalp lightly.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable.” He murmurs. Elayna nods.

“I will.” She shuffles a little bit closer to him and rests her head on the side of his leg. Tyland hums and cards his fingers through her hair. The scratching of his quill soothes Elayna; she slowly melts towards and into him. She sighs softly.

The candles sit low in their wicks by the time Tyland nears the end of his letter writing. Elayna shifts, huffing softly. Anticipation replaces the earlier agitation. Tyland pauses for a second as he considers what he wants to do. He gives Elayna time after putting her collar on so she eases into the floating space it puts her in, but if he waits too long, she becomes impatient. Elayna looks up at him.

“Light two more candles and bring them here.”

Elayna nods. He holds out his hands and helps her to her feet. She almost stumbles, but he rights her with a hand to her hip. As Elayna grabs a candle, Tyland eases himself out of his trousers. He strokes himself slowly, not wanting Elayna to get distracted from her task at hand. He watches her as she moves about, watches the sway of her hips. He runs his eyes along the curves of her body, every inch of which he knows so well. He tastes her on his tongue and feels her soft skin with his hands. He stays unhurried in his motions.

Elayna comes back with the candles. Tyland preens at Elayna’s expression. Her eyes light up, and her lips part slightly. When her gaze meets his, he gestures for her to set the candles down. She does and then scurries around to his side of the desk. Tyland pulls her in for a kiss again by the o-ring on her collar. She makes a satisfied noise against him.

“I have to finish one letter more.” Elayna tries to take his words as her cue. She begins to kneel, but Tyland’s hold on the collar stops her. She pouts. Tyland kisses her forehead. “I don't want you to finish me. Merely keep me warm.”

Elayna nods rapidly.

“I can do that.”

“Good. Strip.”

Tyland lets her go. Her eagerness sends his blood coursing through his veins. Elayna doesn't even hesitate and instantly begins disrobing. Her eagerness infects him, and he helps her do so. The idea of taking his time doesn't even cross his mind. Instead, they work together and get her out of her dresses and skirts.

As soon as she's disrobed, Elayna drops down to her knees and shuffles underneath his desk. She wastes no time settling herself between his legs. Tyland barely leans forward and picks up his quill again before Elayna runs her tongue along his cock from top to bottom. He lets out a hiss of pleasure, head falling back. Elayna flicks her tongue out along the tip, collecting his pre-cum on her tongue. Tyland’s hips rock. Elayna brings her tongue back down and drags it along the underside of his cock once more. Tyland takes hold of her hair.

“Don't tease me.” He warns. He tilts her head up. Elayna gazes up with him with doe eyes. He swallows hard. The sight of Elayna on her knees in nothing but a collar, practically drooling for his cock, makes his head spin. Elayna nods.

He eases his grip. Elayna leans forward again, but she stays true to her word. She opens her mouth and takes him fully into her mouth. Tyland moans. He scratches her scalp softly. Elayna moans herself, and Tyland’s hips rock.

“Stay... stay like that until I finish this letter. Then we can retire to our chambers.”

#oc: elayna reyne #Tyland Lannister x OC #Tyland Lannister x OFC #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #persephone writes #NSFT

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