#Tyrion Lannister x reader

[i-smoke-chapstick]

saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her�� you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

[omelaslost]

Prey Sigil

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Prompt: Their s/o’s family sigil is something that is prey to theirs. Characters: Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister “You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles.” – Illyrio Mopatis, A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion I

•───────•°•❀•°•❀•°•❀•°•───────•

Robb Stark

Sigil: Rabbit / Hare ✿ Robb would likely find it somewhat amusing. He definitely sees the humor in the direwolf joining with the hare and would occasionally joke about it with you. ✿ He would probably give you a pet name like “my little rabbit” or something along those lines. Though, he would only call you that in private once you are more familiar with one other. He might affectionately refer to you as his rabbit to those he is close to after a while. ✿ The tone of his pet name for you would depend on your personality, but the fondness (and teasing) in it would be the same. ✿ Robb is a protective person, and he would be protective of you regardless, but especially if you’re more meek and less likely to stand up for yourself. Rabbits are often seen as symbols of innocence and vulnerability, so he would find that your house’s sigil is fitting. ✿ Now, if you’re more confident and assertive, he would be much more teasing in calling you a rabbit. He would likely add that you were his “fierce little rabbit” and say that there was a wolf in you yet. ✿ He would commission small wood carvings of a direwolf and a rabbit that you keep on your bedside table as a wedding or anniversary gift. They are not to be separated. ✿ If the two of you were to discuss having children (he does need his heir), he would refer to them as “wobbits”. ✿ On that topic, another thing that rabbits are well-known for is how quickly they reproduce (eg “fucking like rabbits”), and so he would probably joke and tease you about that in the privacy of your bedchamber. ✿ You kinda need to be a rabbit to keep up with his ass honestly. ✿ He is very eager to have “a full brood of wobbits hopping around”

Theon Greyjoy

Sigil: A ship with ten fish (Krakens are difficult okay)

✿ Bro’s got jokes (and they aren’t funny) ✿ He’s just a really handsy person in general. He likes to have his hands on you whenever he can. If he can pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms around you waist, he will. It is not a matter of if: it is absolutely a matter of when. ✿ Literally, his favorite thing is to catch your waist when you’re walking by and just pull you down onto him when you’re least expecting it. Just like a Kracken would pull a ship down into the sea. ✿ He just likes to be wrapped around you (he says he thinks he prefers it when you’re wrapped around him, but this isn’t about that). ✿ Except it is about that because most of the jokes he makes will be sexual. ✿ Before he goes down on you, he would jest about a Kraken eating (out) a ship. When he finds how wet you are, he would say that you were flooding/swamping and that it was time for him to sink (into) you. ✿ If you don’t find him funny, he might stop (maybe), but he finds himself funny and that’s all that matters. (He isn't funny). ✿ Very specific, but if you can’t swim, he would never let you hear the end of it. He would offer to teach you (since a boat should know how to float), and while a genuine effort would be made, he would also play around with you in the water, pulling you down into the water. Probably ends up almost drowning you once or twice (accidental baptism, what is dead may never die 🙏). ✿ He actually would likely enjoy being wet with you though, whether you can swim or not. Whether it’s in the hot springs in the godswood of Winterfell or just in a tub during a bath, he’d like how you look with water dripping down your body. He’d joke that you’re both in your natural habitat… mostly. ✿ Gods have mercy if he ever gets you with child because now the ship is manned and he would not shut up about it. The Kraken added life to the ship instead of taking from it.

Cersei Lannister

Sigil: Antelope

✿ She would feel slightly annoyed that an antelope is similar to a stag, but she would eventually learn to ignore it (until you do something that annoys her, then she remembers again and makes it your problem, but you shouldn’t have annoyed her, so it’s actually still your fault).

✿ But you’re not a stag, she would remind herself. An antelope is not a stag; they are prettier than a stag and more graceful. You’re not Robert. You’re not a King; you’re beneath her in every way, and she finds comfort in that.

✿ As you can guess, your relationship likely would not be the healthiest.

✿ Cersei would like to brand you as hers in some way, but she knows that she would have to do it discreetly, so she would use your own coat of arms to do it. You can expect certain gifts from her, as rewards for your services.

✿ Accessories for your hair, shaped similarly to antelope horns, rings with grooves similar to that of an antelope, and she would sneak some reds and golds into them, along with the colors of your own house.

✿ Another way she would “brand” you would be by biting you. As much as she would like to leave it somewhere visible, she is more sensible than that. Your thighs are free game though. You’d be able to tell if she’s upset with you (or in general) by whether she draws blood or not. She would tend to take certain emotions out on you. If you whimper, she would remind you that this is what you’re here for. You’re an antelope, and she is the lion.

✿ She’s also clawing the absolute hell out of the back of your neck while you’re eating her out, but it’s okay because you’ll just wear your hair in a way that hides it.

Jaime Lannister

Sigil: Striped Horse (Zebra) [Note: I don’t think Zebras are ever name-dropped in ASOIAF. Zorses are, but not Zebras. But Zorses come from Zebras and I like Zebras so we’re using Zebras ok? cool.] ✿ You will never get a chance to ask him to do anything without him saying that the striped horse should not give be giving orders to the lion (but he will still do what you asked… if he feels like it and begrudgingly. But if he thinks it would be funnier to ignore your request, you’re on your own).

✿ Big “I know the striped horse is not talking rn” energy whenever you say anything ever. Unfortunately, bullying is one of his love languages.

✿ He would be similar to Cersei in the aspect that he would want you to have some piece of him that connects you to him, thus in a way branding you, but he would also want to have a piece of you that connects him to you.

✿ He is more likely to give you something with a lion on it straight up but perhaps in your colors. He might subtly take on your colors as well with something small with plausible deniability. For example, he carried a white ribbon on him (he is a knight of the Kingsguard, so it would not be questioned) and you carry a black one on you. If he were feeling more daring, he might take the black ribbon while you keep the white. He keeps it for good luck but would openly deny doing such a thing if you mentioned it.

✿ He is a yearner (something else he denies). If he is away from you for a certain amount of time, he will begin to find ways to see you in everything. He sees horses and that makes him think of striped horses and then that makes him think of you because that’s your house’s sigil. He sees a black and white cat, and you know what else is black and white? A striped horse :(

✿ Would literally bite your ass while undressing you, but it would be more of a nip than an actual bite. If your eyes widened and you looked down at him in shock, he would just smirk and say, “What? I’m a lion.”

✿ He would enjoy pinning you down in bed and playfully taunting you while nipping at your skin. He’d like it if you ‘fought back’ just so he can pin you down again.

Tyrion Lannister

Sigil: Warthog ✿ He would find a bit of irony in the idea of him being a lion and your somehow being a warthog and he would probably make self-deprecating jokes about it, likely that he thinks it should be reversed. He thinks that you are strong and beautiful like a lion, whereas he would put his appearance something closer to a warthog. But Tyrion does hold some complicated pride in being a lion, and he would be happy to make you one as well. ✿ He would probably do something similar to Robb, having something commissioned to honor both of your houses, but it would likely be on a grander scale (might as well put that Lannister gold to good use). Instead of wood carvings, it would likely be marble figures with rubies for the lion’s eyes and a stone of your house’s colors for your warthog. He would be very happy if you liked them. ✿ At some point in the relationship, he would jest that you’re certainly the prettiest pig that he has ever seen, that is for sure… and then immediately backpedal, saying perhaps he should not liken you to a pig. If you found humor in it, he would be relieved. ✿ Tyrion would have fun with it. He’s a very knowledgeable person, so he likely has some fun facts about warthogs stored up there to bring out whenever you do something he can compare it to. You’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be? Hogging (ha) the blankets? Well, warthogs are notorious trespassers and thieves (they steal other animals’ burrows) and you are truly a testament to that. ✿ He will have most definitely make the comment that he has no desire to strip the skin from your bones, but he does wish to strip you of something before reaching for your clothing. ✿ Cersei would be quite fond of your coat of arms, even more so once it is joined with the lion. A warthog is not a boar, but they are close enough in appearance as far as she is concerned. She would commission you clothes just to see a lion and a “boar” close together whenever she sees you, and she would pass it off as a good-sisterly gift. Tyrion suspects that his sister finds glee in the prospect because of how King Robert died (he is correct).

[charliedawn]

"Marry me."

How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.

Sandor Clegane:

"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.

"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.

"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.

"No."

"Ah."

"…"

"…"

"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.

"Sure."

He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."

There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.

Oberyn Martell:

"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:

"No."

He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.

"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."

He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.

"…Really ?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. Really."

He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.

"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"

You sighed before closing your eyes.

"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"

Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"

Tyrion Lannister:

"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.

"What ?"

Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.

"You heard me."

He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.

"…Why ?"

Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.

"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.

"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"

"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.

"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.

"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.

"Because I am not a good man."

You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.

"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."

Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.

"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"

He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?

Jaime Lannister:

"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.

"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.

So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.

"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"

That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.

"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"

That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.

"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"

"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.

"Then I will give you whatever you want."

In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.

The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.

Everyone was stunned.

But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.

"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :

"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.

He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.

"Why ?"

You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?

"Does it matter ?"

He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.

"Depends. What will it bring me ?"

You looked away.

"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."

He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.

"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"

You hesitated before sighing in defeat.

"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."

At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.

"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."

Sansa Stark:

You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.

"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"

Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.

"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.

"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.

She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.

"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."

You smiled and shook your head.

"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."

Sansa smiled back.

Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.

Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)

"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.

"What ?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.

When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."

You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.

Daenerys:

"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.

But, marriage ?

Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.

She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.

"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.

"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.

Ser Jorah:

"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.

"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…

"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.

"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.

You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…

Ser Jorah accepted.

After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.

[k4marina]

— iii. Stormborn || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: as plans to conqour westeros begin, daenerys and i are met with an unknown visitor

warnings: got cannon violence, war, battle nothing super graphic. this chapter follows the storylime of Stormborn (S7 Ep2) so spoiler warning ig

a/n: all dialogue italicized is in Valyrian & important note at the end!!

series masterlist || next part

4.9k word count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“Your Grace summons you to the Painted Table.” The servant had said after I had gotten back to my room from my morning training. Daenerys had gotten busier in the last few weeks as she planned ahead for the upcoming war. 

I found her standing by the fireplace with her back turned towards me and the table that was in the shape of the Seven Kingdoms. A few figurines of different houses of Westeros were laid out in their appropriate places. 

“You called?” 

She takes a moment to turn, collecting her thoughts. 

“In a few days Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, and Yara Greyjoy will be here to pledge their allegiance to me and further discuss our plans to take the Iron Throne.” She rounded the table, walking closer to me. “But before they arrive is there anything I must know?”

I furrowed my brows, thinking back or ahead in the future? Nonetheless, I wracked my brain for anything that would be useful. 

“Oh,” I remembered. “An ambush. There’s going to be an ambush.” 

A flash of concern comes across her face. “Who?” 

“Euron Greyjoy. After your meeting you ordered Yara to escort Ellaria and their troops to Sunspear. But along the way Euron ambushes them.” The whole ordeal was hard to read. Daenerys’ campaign was going so well until that point. 

“It was catastrophic. So many died and so many ships destroyed they were still finding wreckage when I was born.” I turned towards the map, thinking back to where we were told the ambush had taken place. 

 “Here. 50 miles north of Sharp Point in Blackwater Bay.” I pointed out. “That’s where they were ambushed.” 

“The damage?”

“Significant. Euron, Yara’s uncle, takes her and Ellaria Sand and her daughter as hostages for Cersie and imprisons them in King's Landing. And, his ships are equipped with Scorpions.” 

She takes in a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Her eyes look down at where I’ve pointed just a moment ago, weighing her options and thinking of a new plan. 

“So what do we do?” 

I smile. “I have a plan.”

—

Rain had been pouring down for the past three days and it showed no signs of letting up all while the entire castle prepared for the arrival of Houses Greyjoy, Martel, and Tyrell. I sighed, walking away from the floor to ceiling windows of the library and back to the roundtable full of books. With the rain getting heavier Grey Worm had decided to postpone my lessons which left me in the library of the castle, hunched over a mountain of books.

“Not very fond of the rain?” Missandei asks from the table, peering over a book. “I am. Just not very fond of the dreariness of it.” I reply, sitting down across from her. “It’s interesting how something as simple as the weather can change a person's entire mood.” 

She nodded, setting the book aside. “In Essos it barely rained. Whenever it did, the sky would be clear and the temperature hot. Here, the rain is so…” 

“Heavy.” I finished off. “Whenever the weather gets like this all I want to do is sleep.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Missandei beams. “I just want to curl up under the hearth with a cup of tea and a good book.” 

I laughed, “after all the reading I’ve done, it’s the last thing I’d want to do when I’m relaxing.” 

We both shared a laugh before falling into a pregnant pause. I could tell that she was still apprehensive about me. When she came to me this morning, asking to join me in the library, I was shocked. Out of council meetings and occasionally bumping into each other we had barely talked. 

“You don’t trust me,” I said. 

She watched my expression as she replied. “Can you blame me?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m glad that you are, though. I’d be more concerned if you’d blindly trust me. Especially with my.. sudden appearance.”

Out of everyone in Daenerys’ council I knew from the start that Missandei would be the hardest to build a relationship with. She’d been with Dany for years. She’d seen her at her lowest and highest. Which is why she would be one of my most important allies, other than Daenerys. 

“You also don’t trust us,” Missandei says. 

“Wrong,” I correct. “I trust Daenerys. You. Grey Worm, and Tyrion.” 

“Not Lord Varys?” She asks. 

“No. Varys is… different, in a lot of ways.” I needed to tread carefully. I couldn’t just outwardly say that he would betray Daenerys and be the reason why Misssandei would die. But, I could sew in the seeds of doubt. 

“He’s.. somewhat unpredictable.” I pursed my lips. “His origin and journey is admirable, don’t get me wrong. It’s just his methods and means and history that are a bit questionable.” 

Everyone knows that Varys has his “little birds” but they don’t know the truth behind them. Missandei didn’t say much after that, letting my words sit in her mind for the rest of the day. I knew what I had said had left her stumped and that she would tell Daenerys of our conversation. I just hoped that the seed had been planted deep enough. 

—

The storm had raged on into the night. I was getting ready to turn into the night when a servant informed me of a small council meeting at the Painted Table. Quickly, I made my way over, seeing that everyone else was already there. 

“I hope I’m not late.” I say to no one in particular. Missandei and Grey Worm give me a few nods while Tyrion and Varys watch Daenerys who had her back towards us, deep in thought. 

“On a night like this, you were born,” Tyrion remarks. 

“I remember that storm. All the dogs in King’s Landing howled through the night.” Varys adds.

“I wish I could remember it.” Daenerys says, finally turning around. Her face was somewhat stoic as she walked over to the table. “I always thought this would be a homecoming, this doesn't feel like home.”

She’s upset, I noted. Did Missandei and I’s conversation work?

“We won’t stay at Dragonstone for long.” Tyrion reassures. 

“Good.” She says, looking at the figurine on the table. “Not many lions.”

“Cersie controls fewer than half of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her. Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now…” Varys says. I don’t know why but the tone of his voice makes me want to jump into the sea.

“They cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health?” Daenerys walks closer to Varys, almost as if she were sizing him up. “People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them.”

Everyone in the room watches carefully as she picks up a dragon figurine from the table. “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back he’d have invaded King’s Landing already.” 

“Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you’re not here to be the queen of the ashes.” Tyrion interjects. 

“No,” Daenerys puts down the dragon figure. 

“We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse,” I say. “We already have three great houses supporting your claim.” 

“I agree,” Tyrion nods my way. “With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south.” 

Daenerys looks at Varys. “I never properly thanked you for that.” Though, her voice lacked any bit of gratitude. 

“They joined our side, my queen, because they believe in you.” Vays says.

“You served my father, didn’t you, Lord Varys?”

“I did,” He replies. 

“And then you served the man who overthrew him?” Her tone shifted. 

“I had a choice, Your Grace– serve Robert Baratheon or face the headsman's axe.” Varys says defensively.

“But you didn’t serve him long. You turned against him.”

“Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king.” Varys countered. 

“So you took it upon yourself to find yourself a better one.” She pressed further. 

Tyrion, feeling the tension in the room, comes to Varys’ defense. “Your Grace,” Daenerys turns towards Tyrion. “When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who–” 

“Before I came to power,” Daenerys turned back to Varys, “you favored my brother. All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak? Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?”

“Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace. I knew nothing about you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful.” Varys deflects. Daenerys looks past and towards me. 

“Are you sure?” I hummed, catching everyone’s attention. Varys’ face hardened and he glared towards me. “Because from what I remember, you’ve always known about Daenerys.” 

I stepped forward, standing behind Daenerys. “Matter of fact, you were the one who planned Daenerys’ marriage to Khal Drogo with Illyrio.”

Varys opened his mouth to speak, but Daenerys beat him to it. 

“You and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki.” 

“Which you turned to your advantage.” He was starting to panic. It was clear the Varys didn’t like to have his back against the wall. 

“Who gave the order to kill me?” 

“King Robert.” He replies quickly. 

“Who hired the assassins?” She steps closer to Varys. “Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?” 

“Your Grace,” you could hear panic set in his voice. “I did what had to be done–”

“To keep yourself alive.” Daenerys says firmly. 

“Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant.” Tyrion says, trying to calm the situation. 

“Proven himself loyal?” I scoffed. 

“Quite the opposite.” Daenerys, turned towards her hand. “If he dislikes one monarch. He conspires to crown the next one. What kind of a servant is that?”

“The kind the realm needs.” Varys says firmly. “Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I’ll use them. I wasn’t born into a great house. I come from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering. When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me or your dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you. Because I know the people have no better chance than you.”

Silence lingers in the air as Varys’ words settle into the room. The rest watched the three of us carefully, holding their breaths. 

“Swear this to me, Varys.” Daenerys’ voice is calm, and no longer holds any edge. “If you ever think I’m failing the people, you won’t conspire behind my back. You’ll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you’ll tell me how I’m failing them.” 

Feeling satisfied that he’s in the clear, Varys stands straight. “I swear it, my queen.” 

“And I swear this– if you even betray me, I’ll burn you alive.” She quickly warns. 

Varys smiles. “I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons.” 

Amidst back and forth a servant had entered the room, informing Grey Worm of a visitor. 

“Forgive me, my queen. A red priestess from As’shai has some to see you.” 

––––

The doors to the throne room open, revealing a woman in red standing alone. She had red hair and dark red-ish eyes. Could this be?

The woman bows, her eyes linger on me before addressing Daenerys in Valyrian. “Queen Daeneys, I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains.” 

“The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here. What is your name?” Daenerys replies. 

“I am called Melisandre.” 

“She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne.” Varys says from behind us. “It didn’t end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?”

“No, it didn’t” Melisandre replies with no emotions. 

Not only did it not end well for Stannis, but it also didn’t end well for his daughter who he burned alive under Melisandre’s orders, but if you ask her it was the “Lords” doing. 

“You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone.” Daenerys turns to look at Varys. “We’ve decided to pardon those who served the wrong king.” 

Varys doesn’t reply and just bows his head, thankful that Daenerys hadn’t fed him to Drogon. 

Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “The Lord of Light doesn’t have many followers in Westeros, does he?” 

“Not yet. But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause.” 

“What does your Lord expect from me?” Daenerys questions. 

“The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn.”

I sucked in a breath through my nose. We were getting closer to Jon’s arrival and everything else that would follow suit. 

“The prince who was promised will bring the dawn.” Daenerys repeats. “I'm afraid I'm not a prince.”  

“Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate.” Missandei corrects from the side. “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.”

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion comments. 

“No, but I like it better.” Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “And you believe this prophecy refers to me?” 

“Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.” Melisandre explains.

“Jon Snow?” Tyrion says, shocked. “Ned Stark's bastard?” 

“You know him?” Daenerys asks. 

Tyrion nods. “I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch.” 

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow aside from the visions you’ve seen in the flames, that is?” Varys inquired. 

“As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he allowed the Wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from great danger. As King in the North he has united those Wildlings with the northern houses so together they may face their common enemy.” 

Even after hundreds of years after the events of this time, Jon’s heroism is still marveled  upon. The North still remembers the King in the North.

“He sounds like quite a man.” I say.

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.” Melisandre urged Daenerys. 

Tyrion nodded, “I can’t speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and I trusted him, and I am an excellent judge of character.” 

“If he does rule the north, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do.” Tyrion added. 

She glanced up from Tyrion to me, asking if it were true. I gave her a subtle nod and she turned back to Tyrion, smiling. 

“Very well. Send a raven north.” She says. “Tell Jon Snow that his Queen invites him to come to Dragonstone… and bend the knee.”

–––

Our new allies arrived early in the morning, just as the sun rose over the horizon. I wore a black dress with a wool outer layer with silver clasps running from my collarbone to above my navel. The shoulders, forearms, and collar had a dragon scale pattern. It was simple, but still full of detail, but most importantly it kept me warm in this dreaded weather.The rain had stopped overnight, but the clouds had stayed, blocking any sunlight.

Everyone was gathered at the Painted Table, all ready and waiting for Daenerys to make her entrance. As I entered the room, conversation between our guests dulled down as they couldn’t look away. I didn’t have to look to know what they were thinking. 

Another Targaryen? 

The room was cold from the night's rain and the cold sea so I threw more wood into the hearth and stood by Missandei as we waited for Daenerys. I glanced around the room, watching as Yara, Ellaria, and Olenna talked but occasionally glanced towards me. 

“They seem to be interested in you.” Missandei comments. 

“I thought they’d have a bigger reaction,” I say. “Maybe a few jaw’s on the floor, or a few gasps of shock.” 

Missandei chuckled. “I’m afraid all you’ll get is a few stares and gossip.” 

“I guess I can take that.” I hummed. 

The doors swung open as Daenerys entered. Everyone stood at attention as she made her way to the front of the room. 

“I want to thank you all for making the journey to Dragonstone. Now, let us begin.” 

Yara was the first to speak. “If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms.” Tyrion shook his head. 

Ellaria looked towards him with disgust, which was noticed by all. “It's called war. You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

“I know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.” Tyrion bit back. 

Ellaria scoffed. “She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters. My greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you.” 

“Oberyn was a grown man. He made his choice, no one can change that. Myrcella was a child, she didn’t do anything. I think we all here know that a child isn’t responsible for their fathers sins.” I said from the sidelines, giving her a pointed look. 

“That's enough. Tyrion is the Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect.” Daenerys reminded. Both Tyrion and Ellaria backed down, Ellaria giving me one last look. “I am not here to be the Queen of Ashes.” 

“That's very nice to hear.” Olenna said from across the table. “Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her, the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children really. They won't obey you unless they fear you.”

“I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your council. I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing.” Daenerys says, genuinely. 

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” Olenna asks. I smiled at the older womens sass. 

Daenerys looked towards me and I stepped forward. “We will lay siege to the capital, surrounding it on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.” 

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied.” Tyrion adds. He walks around the carved table, “Cersie will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.” 

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria clarifies. 

“You are.” Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that resembled a Kraken in a longship. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King’s Landing.” He walked over to the south of the map and picked up a figurine that resembled a sun. Taking both figurines, Tyrion places them at King’s Landing. “The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersie.”

“So your master plan is to use our armies? Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?” Olenna asks Daenerys. 

Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that looked like an Unsullied helmet. He walked around the map. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

He stops in front of Casterly Rock, a lion figurine sitting on the Rock. Tyrion takes a moment before knocking over the lion with the Unsullied figurine to everyone's pleasure. 

A clam settles and Daenerys addresses the room. “There is another matter to discuss.” Everyone looks at her, caught off guard. “I’ve come to learn that there will be an ambush in Blackwater Bay led by Euron Greyjoy under Cerseis’ order.” 

“What?” Someone says. 

“Your Grace,” Varys steps forward. “Forgive me, but I’ve heard no such thing to take place.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Perhaps you’re mistaken.” 

“There have been no mistakes, Lord Varys.” Daenerys says. I moved to stand on Daenerys' side. 

“Euron will strike at night.” I explain. “His ships are equipped with Scorpions, they’re deadly and will tare your ships to shreads.” 

Yara’s face drops. “What the hell do we do? Our ships aren’t fully equipped to take on his.” Theon, behind her, is equally terrified. 

“We know,” I say, calmly. “That is why I’ll be escorting you.” 

“Forgive me, my dear, but what can you do?” Olenna asks. 

“I’ll be on dragonback. I’ll be flying high enough to go unnoticed, but close by to help when the attack happens. There will be casualties on our end, that's certain, but this is war.” The others look at Daenerys and I in shock as they try to find the words to speak.

“But you’ve never flown into battle.” Tyrion says. 

“So?” I shrug. “I’ll have to fight at one point, might as well start now.”

“My Lady, you’ve never flown out that far, you’ll be all alone.” Missandei says. 

“No I won’t. I’ll have my dragon and I’ll have our new allies besides me.” I say, nodding towards Yara and Ellaria. “When I bent the knee to Daenerys and promised to get her the Iron Throne, I meant it. This is what I have to do.”

Daenerys gives me a reassuring look. She turned towards the room. “Do I have your support?”

Yara glances between Daenerys and I. “You have mine.” 

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace.” Ellaria says. 

Lady Olenna nods her head in agreement. 

“Thank you all.” Daenerys says, somewhat relieved. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?” 

Everyone bows and leaves the room. Before leaving I turned towards Daenerys, “I’ll go get ready for my departure.” 

She nods. “Stay safe, sister.”

I smiled. “I will. When I’m back I’ll let you put a braid in my hair.” I say, leaving. 

I stepped out into the hall and down to where my room was where everything was already ready for me. When I first had my conversation with Daenerys about the ambush I had also asked for some armor to be made for me. And with the help of the servants I was able to get into it quickly. It was simple but protective and it allowed me to ride my dragon without hurting either of us. I took two daggers that I’d also had made and placed them into their places on my hip.

Afterwards I headed to where the ships were docked and where Viserion was waiting for me. I stepped outside and saw everyone getting ready to leave. I spotted Yara and Theon were still on the docks giving orders to their crew. 

“Is everything ready?” I ask. 

“It is, My Lady. We’ll be leaving shortly.” Yara says. 

“Good. You’ll leave first and I’ll be behind you not far off. We need to make it look like you’re alone and unsuspecting.” I explained. I glanced back at Theon who still hadn’t said anything, but had something on his mind. “Is something bothering you, My Lord?”

Theon looked taken aback, surprised that I was talking to him. “I’m not a lord.” 

“You’re not?” I repeat. “You are Balon Greyjoy’s son, are you?” 

He nods, not fully looking up at me. 

“That makes you Lady Yara Greyjoy's brother, yes?” 

He nods again, still not looking up. 

“Then that makes you a Greyjoy, an Ironborn. You are every bit of a lord you are now and when you were born on Pyke, do not forget that. What’s happened has happened, no one can change that. All we can do is move forward. We Do Not Sow, yes?”

He nods, finally looking up at me. 

––––

The ships had cleared out of the docks and were making their way into Blackwater Bay. I stood near the cliffs, ready to leave, when Tyrion came to stand beside me. 

“What you’re doing is heroic, My Lady.” He says. 

“I guess it is. I’ve never done anything like this.” I flexed my fingers. “My entire body’s buzzing. Was this what you felt before the Battle of the Blackwater and defeated Stannis’ army?” 

Tyrion nodded. “It did. I felt like throwing up and shitting the floor at the same time.” We both laughed. “I had to drink a few glasses of wine to calm myself down. Perhaps it would help you, My Lady.” 

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. I need a clear head. But, you can save me that glass for when I get back. Then we can talk about everything that needs to be talked about. Don’t you agree?” 

“I do.” 

––––

It was pitch black and cold. The heat from Viserion’s body was still keeping me warm, but the cold wind blowing past my face was getting to me. Even from up there I could hear the waves crashing down which meant that I’d be able to hear when Euron’s fleet attacked. 

“How you feeling, big guy? Good?” I asked Viserion. He let out a small purr, his entire body vibrating. I sighed, looking up at the sky above. The stars and the mood were my only light as we flew further out. 

“Okay,” I say out loud. “Let's go over our plan. When they attack our ships we fly down and torch them, but we have to be careful not to get too close or else we’ll be caught and we have to watch out for the Scorpions. One hit with that and we’ll be recreating Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes. And keep your eye out for Euron, we need him alive.” 

Viserion purrs again and I take that as a sign that he agrees with the plan. The last few weeks I’ve flown with him were good, we’d stay around Dragonstone, the furthest we’ve been was Driftmark, so this was a huge risk. 

When I had explained to Daenerys my plan she was apprehensive. It was clear that she didn’t want either Viserion or I to get hurt, but she knew that we also couldn’t risk our fleet and our army. 

A loud crash brought me out of my thoughts, and a glow erupted from below. The steady waves of the ocean now clashed against one another as Euron began his assault. 

This was it. 

“Now.” I command. 

In an instant Viserion flies down past the clouds and we’re met with Eurons fleet fighting against Yara’s. Almost instantaneously my body and mind knew what to do. Without a word Viserion flew down and prepared himself. 

“Dracarys.” 

Fire erupts out of his mouth and lights the enemy ships below us ablaze. He lets out a loud scratch, gathering everyone's attention below before striking again. It takes them a minute before they aim their Scorpions up towards us. The massive arrows fly past us as Viserion weaves between them while burning Eurons fleet. 

It doesn’t take long for the battle to die down, the air filled with the smell of burnt wood and flesh. Our fleet was damaged but Eurons was completely destroyed. Anyone who could have survived the dragonfire were either killed or taken hostage. Like planned, a Targaryen flag is flown under the Greyjoy’s on Yara’s ship, Black Wind.  

–––––

Once I’d landed back on Dragonstone I quickly said goodbye to Viserion, letting him rest, and made my way down to the docks where everyone, minus Grey Worm, would be waiting for me. 

Daenerys was first to see me, giving me a tight hug while the others nodded my way, smiling. 

“Well done, My Lady. You’ve done well.” Tyrion says. 

“Thank you, but we’ve still got work to do.” 

Right on que, a ship comes into the docks. The crew works quickly to anchor down and disembark. The Ironborn and a few Dornish step off before Theon and a few of his men step off. He’s a little bruised, and he’s got dirt and ash on his face, but overall well. He bow’s towards Daenerys and I, giving me a small smile before he steps aside and allows his men in front who are dragging a beaten up Euron Greyjoy. 

“We’ve got him, Your Grace.” Says Theon. 

“Good,” Daenerys’ eyes never left the unconscious Euron. “Bring him to the dungeons.” 

The men hull him off and everyone makes their way back into the castle. I turn over to Tyrion. 

“Let’s have that drink.”

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @illsenewman @natblidaclexa @bluebirdseatblueberries

!! A/N: I will be going on a hiatus for a few months. I've got some personal stuff going on so I won't be updating any of my series including this one. I don't know when I'll be back, but when I am I'll get you guys a new chapter so hang on tight. Thank you for all the support you've given so far. I know thing are only just getting started story wise but I have a lot to do and I'll make it up to you all when I'm back.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being in an arranged marriage to Tyrion but you convince him that you truly love him & cuddling.

The look on his face was clear enough - the embarrassment, the knowledge that rejection was coming, the question of whether he should even bother to say something. But you decided to break the break the ice and be the first one to say something to him. “Which side of the bed do you prefer? I’ve always been partial to the right.” You tilted your head as he looked at you with disbelief. No witty comeback. “What, did you think that I would make you sleep on the floor like a dog?”

“What you see is a dwarf, not a dog,” Tyrion said. He did so often use that word for himself, you wondered if he had to remind himself of it constantly. He did have the head of a fully-grown man, you could give him that.

“And does my dwarf husband consent to sleeping on the left side of the bed?” You ask, taking off the first of many layers of the wedding dress that you had been somehow squeezed into that morning.

His head tilted to the side as he looked up at you and then started to remove his boots. “He does,” He nodded, taking them off and then walked to the table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Do you want some? I have the feeling you’ll be needing it, if you are to sleep beside a -”

“Dwarf?” You asked, chuckling. “Yes, you do seem fond of calling yourself that. But no, I’ll have no trouble sleeping beside you while sober, as long as you don’t mind one thing.”

“Ahh, always a condition,” He said, drinking from his goblet. “A bag over my head, perhaps?”

“Are you always so insecure?” You asked, starting to let your hair free, now that you were just in your slip. “No, the condition being that I can still be the little spoon once in a while.”

He choked on his wine, nearly spilling his goblet in the process. But like most drinkers, he was skilled at keeping the cup steady. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t mind doing the cuddling, but I also enjoy being the cuddled,” You said, walking around to the bed and getting in your preferred side, the blankets over you. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad for this marriage, you always looked ... warm, and I tend to run cold at night.”

He gave you the funniest expression of disbelief that you had ever seen in your life, and your smile grew wide. Then, he actually seemed to blush. Tyrion Lannister, known throughout all of the whorehouses, blushing. “Is this a joke?”

“I might be smiling, but I’m not laughing. Come, it’s been a long day, and with how much you drank, I have the feeling you’re not up to your ... husbandly duty.”

“I didn’t think you would want me to be,” Tyrion said, setting the goblet back on the table and walked towards the bed, still looking cautious as if it were a trap.

“Maybe you should ask before you assume, my husband.”

Requested by: @fantasylover4evr​

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

[lumillsie]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ game of thrones masterlist. ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ robb stark, sansa stark, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, jaime lannister, margaery tyrell, cersei lannister, ramsay bolton, tywin lannister, tyrion lannister, joffrey baratheon, theon greyjoy, viserys targaryen, oberyn martell, bronn of the blackwater, edmure tully, ygritte

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ robb stark. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sansa stark. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jon snow. ੈ✩‧₊˚

all my life ( jon snow x f!arryn reader)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ daenerys targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jaime lannister. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ margaery tyrell. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cersei lannister. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ramsay bolton. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tywin lannister. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tyrion lannister. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ theon greyjoy. ੈ✩‧₊˚

theon greyjoy x mermaid!reader headcanons

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ viserys targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ oberyn martell. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bronn of the blackwater. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ edmure tully. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ygritte. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

[spxllcxstxr]

Being a Tully and in an Arranged Marriage with Tyrion Lannister • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: hi!! Would you consider writing headcanons for a Tully!fem!reader x Tyrion Lannister in an arranged marriage? you don’t have to & take your time if you do :)) — anon

Warnings: canon divergence - the timeline isn’t exact but oh well, fem!reader, derogatory names used for Tyrion (sometimes by reader until she learns to love him), drinking, no reader description as per usual

A.N: I hope these are alright!! I’m actually a Tyrion Lannister simp so I found this little thing pretty fun! Hope you all enjoy!!

•

“Absolutely not, father.” You say, your face screwed up in disgust, hands clenched into fists at the dinner table

He sits there, unfazed by your outburst

“Anyone but the imp, father, please!”

While you absolutely hated the idea of your father arranging a marriage for you, it certainly wasn’t a surprise; Catelyn, your older sister, had been married to Eddard Stark for a few years, and now it was finally your turn

You had never met the Lannisters but the stories you have heard of them throughout the Riverlands frightened you to your core

Their endless amount of riches and vast power was somehow overshadowed by the evil and danger that surrounded them

“It is final, daughter. You will be wed at Casterly Rock and from there…I do not know,”

It takes you time to really process this

You being married off to some wealthy lord is your duty, something you had come to terms with years ago

But marrying a Lannister?

Marrying the unloved and disgraced son of Tywin Lannister specifically?

You spend days in your room, writing letters to your sisters, crying about your loveless marriage

You do not see him until you arrive at Casterly Rock, he waits for you draped in red

You’re shocked to find that he’s not grotesque at all like you were led to believe…he’s actually quite…handsome

His Lannister blonde hair shines in the afternoon sun and the slight smirk on his face is quite attractive as well

But looks can be deceiving, you remind yourself

"My Lady, it is nice to finally meet you,"

"It is a pleasure, my Lord,"

"Please, call me Tyrion...since we are soon to be wed..."

He certainly does not seem excited about this marriage either

The two of you don't really see each other in the few weeks leading up to your wedding - Tyrion was frequently drunk and you were mostly left to your own devices

The wedding is beautiful, you must admit, the Lannister's loved flaunting their coin

Your family does not make the long journey from Riverrun to Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister makes only a brief appearance

The dreaded bedding ceremony

Tyrion actually forbids anyone from touching you; he stays sober enough to get you back to your now shared quarters

"I will not bed you, my Lady wife, you should not be subjected to someone such as me"

"Tyrion, that is not why I wish not to bed you…” You’re nervous, his kindness out of the ordinary for men. “I simply wish to keep my maidenhood for someone…for someone I love.”

Your marriage starts off…well, actually

You and Tyrion start off getting to know each other, becoming friends first

You admire his quick wittedness and intellect, his jokes always land and you always laugh

He never pushes you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with and neither do you

You teach him about Riverrun and the streams you grew up by

And your sisters

He tells you about his childhood and his brother Jamie

You have quite a lot of differences in terms of upbringing and power, but you find it easy to laugh at each other’s childhood plights

You think you can learn to love him

After spending a few months at Casterly Rock you and Tyrion are moved to King’s Landing, which you absolutely dread

The entire ride there you and Tyrion talk in hushed tones about his family, he prepares you for the worst

The entire time he’s holding your hand, thumb slowly rubbing across your knuckles

Of course when you arrive you have to meet everyone in the Throne Room

The Iron Throne looking as menacing as the writings say it does

Cersei looks at you skeptically, before turning her calculated scowl towards her brother

“Back already brother? I was hoping your wretched little body would stay over at Casterly Rock.”

Unknowingly your hand tightens into a fist, disgusted with Cersei’s words

“Yes, always a pleasure to see you, sister. Now can me and my Lady Wife retire to our quarters?”

After brief introductions, you and Tyrion are back in your wing on the castle, resting on the bed

“She should not speak to you like that.” You tell him, your hand grabbing his. “It isn’t right.”

“Since the day I was born into this cruel world I was a wretched thing, so take no offense, I have not for years now…” He smiles at you.

“But Tyrion, you are not wretched or monstrous or any of these foul things…I do not see that. I see your kindness and bravery…” You smile, lifting your hand up to caress his face. “And quite handsome too, I must admit…”

“(Y/N)…May I kiss you?” He asks softly, his eyes glimmering

“I would love that, my husband…”

Your heart beats as you kiss him, and you know for sure that you could very easily love Tyrion Lannister

[slavicdelight]

The Last Embrace

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Lannister! OC

Summary: Lorelle, Tywin Lannister's youngest daughter, forms an unexpected alliance with Oberyn Martell after defeating him in a duel. Their love blossoms, but tragedy strikes when jealousy leads to everything falling apart.

Warnings: death, cursing, angst

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

In the heart of the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister welcomed his youngest daughter into the world, a fierce and spirited girl named Lorelle. From the beginning, her fiery nature clashed with the traditional expectations of a lady born into such a prestigious family.

As Lorelle grew, her independent spirit grew with her, driving her further away from learning of noble etiquette. She abandoned needlework for the training yard, where she observed the art of swordsmanship. Tywin, torn between pride and concern, could only watch as her interest differed from other young noble ladies. Word of Lorelle's exceptional skill with sword spread through the Seven Kingdoms, reaching the ears of Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne. Although he despised the Lannisters for what happened to his beloved sister Elia, he was curious if the rumours were true.

The first encounter between the two was marked by a clash of swords, or in this case - a spear and a sword. Each duel became a battleground for dominance, a fierce dance where neither was willing to yield.Oberyn's disdain for the Westerlands and its houses fueled the fire of their rivalry. In his eyes Lorelle was not just an opponent but a symbol of everything he despised about the realm.

Despite their hatered for each other, they decided to combine forces to travel together through Essos.The tension between them kept both nobles balanced on the egde.Yet, amidst the clashes, moments of understanding and mutual respect began to emerge.It wasn't until a decisive duel where Lorelle emerged triumphant that Oberyn's disdain began to shift. As he lay defeated, he finally acknowledge her skill. The dislike eventually evolved into a strange alliance, a bond forged on the edge of blades and the heat of their conflicting personalities.

During their tumultuous journey, Lorelle and Oberyn faced numerous challenges, each encounter adding layers to their complex relationship.One day, as they were riding through Pentos, a group of men attacked them. They were strong and quick. It was obvious that they’ve been trained to steal and kill. Thankfully, Oberyn's quick thinking and combat finesse saved Lorelle from an ambush, blurring the lines between adversary and ally. The tension that once defined their interactions slowly transformed into something more.

When Oberyn knelt before her, proposing a marriage with sincerity in his eyes, the tension reached its zenith. Tywin, recognizing the potential for an alliance, reluctantly agreed to their union. Lorelle became the Princess of Dorne, thrust into a political landscape that mirrored the complexities of her relationship with Oberyn.Yet, tragedy struck their already fragile union.

Ellaria Sand, fueled by jealousy and resentment, plotted against Lorelle. In a venomous act of betrayal, she poisoned the Princess of Dorne. As Lorelle's life slipped away, Oberyn's grief transformed into a burning desire for revenge, reigniting the tension between them in a different, more profound way. In a fit of righteous fury, Oberyn confronted Ellaria. The clash was brutal, mirroring the intensity of his battles with Lorelle.

In the end, justice was served, but the cost was high. Oberyn stood still after delivering avenging the woman he loved, a shattered man, his heart torn between the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that lingered between him and the memory of Lorelle.

In the aftermath, the halls of Sunspear echoed with a haunting silence. Oberyn, having avenged Lorelle, found himself with conflicting emotions. The memory of their fierce clashes lingered, intertwined with the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that defined their relationship.

As Princess of Dorne, Lorelle's absence left a void in the court. The alliances formed through her marriage hung in delicate balance. Oberyn, once fueled by a desire for revenge, now faced the aftermath of his actions. The people of Dorne witnessed a Red Viper who had lost his venom, a man torn between the love he found and the ghosts of his tumultuous past. The court of Sunspear whispered of Lorelle's legacy – a fiery princess who defied conventions, a skilled swordswoman who left a mark on the pages of history. Yet, the tragedy that befell her cast a shadow over the realm, a stark reminder of the fragility of alliances and the cost of vengeance.

Oberyn, haunted by the memories of Lorelle, retreated into solitude. The tension that once fueled their clashes now manifested as an internal struggle within him. The flames of revenge had consumed him, and in their wake, he was left with the ashes of regret.In the quiet corridors of Sunspear, Oberyn's gaze lingered on the places where he and Lorelle had faced both adversaries and each other. The sword that once clashed with hers now rested, a silent witness to the battles fought and the love lost.As the years passed, Dorne found itself in a delicate dance of politics and intrigue.

The memory of Lorelle became both a symbol of defiance and a cautionary tale. Oberyn, a once vibrant force, moved through the shadows of the court, a man forever marked by the flames that burned between him and the Princess of Dorne. And so, the tale of Lorelle and Oberyn became a legend – a story of love, rivalry, and the high cost of vengeance that echoed through the corridors of Sunspear, leaving behind a legacy as enduring as the ancient stones of the castle.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

A/N: This is a shorter story, but I hope you'll enjoy it just like the other ones.

[sugarprincessbitch]

Hi! I saw that you are open for solicitations, so…. How about yandere! Tyrion who is in love with Reader? She is just so sweet and kind, she doesn't understand much about politics, but she makes her effort. She is (unfortunately) engaged against her will to a nasty lord, what would Tyrion do? Headcannons, please

WARNING: Mentions of Yandere aspects, manipulation, death and killing

It was another boring day at court on the Red Keep, Tyrion had taken the place deceased Ned Stark had taken as the hand of the King...this king being his stupid nephew Joffrey. He was with the other advisors hearing Cersie ranting demands like always and dear Joffrey making additions to his mother's no senses.

Tyrion was like always, drowning in his cup of wine, trying to zone out his sister's annoying high pitch voice. He decided to observe the people in the room, he saw the same long and boring faces of the lords, but when he put his piercing gaze on Cersie direction...he saw a young maiden standing uncomfortable behind the Queen, he had never seen her before or never cared too much to notice. She peaked his attention...he had seen young noble maidens flocking around his sister, but the difference is how she didn't recoil while looking at his horrible face or his odd short limbs.

...

It is a matter well known that Tyrion is terrible at anything that matters the problems of the heart...we know from the books and the series, mostly the books, that he had troublesome relationships with women in his life. He tends to be naturally possessive and protective of the woman he holds affection for, so if he was a Yandere...he will be a dangerous one.

He can seem calm and collected on the exterior, but he is an animal waiting to snap, for something he is the son of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion will appeal to be passive aggressive to a possible threat for his darling affection, or even recurring to send men to kill them, but only if this person is a minor lord or a commoner.

Tyrion doesn't have to his advantage beauty or natural charm to attract his darling, but he has his cunning mind...that will help manipulating her. I think he will guilt trip her, using his disability at favour.

If his darling was not a noble lady, he will try to use his power and financial position to charm her, if the first doesn't work then he will threaten her with it. He may be a mockery in his family, but he still has the Lannister blood running from his veins and their money in his pockets.

But we will suppose that the darling is a noble lady of a not such an important house, then he will have complications at the time of having her in his grasp fully. Because there are norms on how a lady has to handle themselves and also a social expectation of courting and marriage, he will not only have to gain his darling affection but also the favour of her father.

It will be more troublesome if her darling is engaged with another Lord, this will send him to a furious pit and he will start to plan the downfall of the poor bastard that decided to get on his way.

Tyrion will probably try to coerce his darling father to change his mind and choose him as a possible bachelor, maybe he is a dwarf, but he comes from an important house and also he is currently in a very prestigious position, the hand of the king.

If this doesn't work (that I think it will probably go this way) he will convince his darling that he is better than an old hag, he will treat her kindly and with the utmost respect. Also, he will start courting his darling and showering her in costly jewelry and refined dresses.

When he finally has her on his grasp, convinced that he is the better suitor for her and not his future husband, he will fall upon his "enemy" with everything he has. Clearly, sending his men to kill silently that Old lord his darling was engaged with, claiming that it died from his frail and old age, natural causes.

The sudden death of his darling suitor and the pressure he will put not only financially but also using his position on the court so your lord father has no other option than to marry you to him.

Now, he finally has you for himself... And you know what they say, the preserverants win at the end.

[love-fictional-ppl]

Tyrion Lannister who marries you out of duty. He knew he’s not the most promising husband, but he knows how to treat a woman and that’s something.

Tyrion Lannister who didn’t expect his bride to be so beautiful. You were a highborn lady of Dorne, you had the tell tale sun kissed skin of the Dornish as well as dark brown/black hair.

Tyrion Lannister who in the two weeks he had to get to know you before the two of you were bound by marriage, did not expect you to get along so well. He half expected you to be some stuck up dimwit, to lord Tyrion’s surprise, you knew how to engage in an actual intellectual conversation and you challenged him which he enjoyed.

Tyrion Lannister who expressed to you that you would bed on your terms and if you so wanted you could engage with other men, which you dismissed. Once your wedding arrived and it was time for your bedding ceremony, Tyrion once again was surprised. You shed your dress quickly, which he promised you did not have to do so, and mounted the smaller man. The two of you wound up having earth shattering sex, and decided to actually build a relationship and perform your marital duties.

Tyrion Lannister who knock you up two different times and is gifted with a son and a daughter, neither of which were affected with dwarfism.

[cerseisluver]

Tyrion Lannister x fem!reader more fluff than angst

warnings: none really

words: ~200

note: I did some searching and saw that there's very little Tyrion stuff here. So I wanted to write it because I just feel like it👍

You were sitting together in his chambers drinking wine. For the past hour you were talking about life in general. But with each minute Tyrion was saying his deeper thoughts.

"You know...I feel like no one will ever truly love me. It bothers me. I could have a hundred whores, a wife. But none of them would ever love me." He drunkly confesses, sadness filling his voice.

"I love you." You look at him, your gaze softening.

"No you don't... I'm just your friend."

"Friends can't love each other?" You ask softly.

Silence filled the room for a while. "Well I guess they can."

"See, you don't have to be bothered anymore." You smile to him. He doesn't even know what to say. No one said that to him. There aren't any moments someone appreciates him like that without paying them to do so.

"How do you love me?"

"Well... I don't expect of you to be committed to me, or love me back. I don't think that I expect anything of you really...I just love you you know... Just that." You say while looking Tyrion in his eyes.

"Thank you..." A tear of happiness escapes his eye wich he quickly wipes away. And you smile lovingly in return.

[charliedawn]

GOT characters x Reader

"Please. Dance with me."

Sandor Clegane :

Sandor was standing near the exit—ready to call it a night. He was tired of seeing all those high borns dancing and getting drunk on expensive Dornish wine. But when he was about to leave, he felt an arm wrap around his and looked down to find you—clinging to his arm. He was about to ask what the hell you were doing when he noticed how terrified you seemed.

"Please…Don’t let him take me."

You were on the verge of tears. He looked in the direction you were staring at and found some lord with a sleazy smile on his face. He was walking your way and Sandor instinctively raised his hand to clasp it on your arm.

"The lady’s taken. Piss off."

He felt you tense up next to him, but his hand on top of your arm kept you in place as the man decided to finally leave. Once he was gone, you wanted to thank him…But, Sandor pulled away and walked away.

…He needed a drink.

Daenerys Targaryen:

When a man offered you a dance, you smiled and tried to politely decline the offer. But, the man wasn’t having no for an answer. Finally, he grabbed your arm as you were about to leave. Fortunately, Daenerys arrived just in time and stood between the both of you.

"I believe she has been quite clear. She doesn’t want to dance with you."

The man was about to protest, but quickly reconsidered. He left and you let out a sigh of relief. But, as you were about to thank her, Daenerys turned towards you with a soft smile before offering you her hand.

"Would you like to dance with me instead ?"

Her hand was opened invitingly and her eyes showed nothing but good will. So, you took her hand with a smile.

"I would be honoured, khaleesi."

Ser Jorah :

"Would you dance with me, Ser Jorah?"

Jorah looked up at your hand and was about to politely decline your offer when he noticed your uneasy smile and the other man standing a few feet away behind you. He immediately understood the situation and smiled before taking your hand.

"It would be an honour, my lady."

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled before being led away. You swayed left and tight slowly together and even though Ser Jorah only wanted to dance to help you—he found himself enjoying it as well. You closed your eyes and didn’t even think about your 'problem'.

You just enjoyed the dance until the very last moment when you had to part.

"Thank you."

Whether it was you or him who said it first—neither of you could tell.

Brienne of Tarth :

Brienne had just won her final battle for the tournament organised by your father. She had put to the ground many of your father’s best knights and when her face was revealed…You were immediately impressed. A woman of such strength on your side would surely end in a successful alliance.

So, you waited.

You waited and when it was time to celebrate, your eyes landed on the fiercest woman who had succeeded in defeating most fighters of the court. Her eyes didn’t settle on you however.

You felt a little disappointed by it, but the night was far from over. You tried again and again to get her to see you, but she always seemed to escape your sight. Finally, you decided to give up and sit down. But, you then felt a hand land on your shoulder and when you looked up, you found one of your father’s choices staring down at you with a malicious smile.

You tried to tell him no. He ignored your request.

But, he finally listened when the woman you had been trying to talk to suddenly appeared behind you in all her armoured glory. She didn’t need to speak a word as the man immediately released you and walked away.

"Are you alright, my lady ?" She asked you and you replied with a smile of your own.

"I am now."

Jon Snow :

Many people had warned you about Jon Snow. Some called him the King of the North—others a demon. You weren’t really interested in rumours though, but by the truth.

Hence, you had accepted to go and meet with him.

A war was brewing and you knew that strong allies were necessary. However, when you found yourself in front of the man who claimed to be Jon Snow, you immediately knew it couldn’t be him. The man before you couldn’t possibly be the King of the North. He wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t heavily armed. Or looked like a living dead. He seemed…normal.

"I am Jon Snow."

"..."

You looked him up and down.

Before he could say another word, you threw a dagger at him and he didn’t even flinch as it landed in a tree behind him. You both stared at each other for a minute until you finally smiled.

That man was Jon Snow.

For you saw no fear of death in his eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, my King." You introduced yourself and bowed before him. "…The man who danced with Death and survived."

Tyrion Lannister:

"No."

Tyrion was aware of your situation. He knew perfectly well of the unfortunate circumstances of your upcoming betrothal. But…He couldn’t bring you even more dishonour by agreeing to dancing with you.

"Do not look so disappointed, my lady. Even though I am sure you are quite lovely, I wish you to spare yourself the humiliation of dancing with an imp."

Such harsh words which ignited a general hilarity that made you red in the face with fury. But, not against Tyrion. You didn’t blame him for his refusal. You knew how it sounded and the pain behind such a request. But, you didn’t want to give up. So…You did something that no person had ever dared. You knelt before him—your eyes staring at the floor in respect.

"I see no imp. I see a valorous and just prince. And I still wish to dance with you. Please."

It made the crowd around you fall silent. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he seemed speechless for a while. But, he finally smiled before slowly reaching for your chin to lift it up so your eyes may meet.

"…Don’t you lower your gaze. You hold more bravery and wit than anyone else in this room. And if that is truly your wish ? Then I would be more than happy to dance with you."

Jaime Lannister:

You were sitting down when you felt a presence in front of you as you ate. Your eyes looked up to find your ‘fiancé'. He was looking at you with such disgust that all food got stuck in your throat. You knew it was but an arranged marriage, but everyone knew that your betrothed hated your family with passion. Your eyes glanced away and met with another man. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

Unfortunately, your betrothed caught the exchange and suddenly grabbed your arm—ready to strike. But before he could as much as lay a finger on you, the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat.

The room fell silence as none other than Jaime Lannister had come to your rescue.

"I believe this is no way to treat a woman—even less a lady."

He then sat down next to you and smiled before eating next to you—an arm wrapped around you. The message was clear. And the man left.

"…You will get in trouble for this." You warned him, but Jaime replied with a cocky smile.

"I am a Lannister. And lions are not scared of insects."

Oberyn Martell :

You were trying to leave the party. This was too much. A man was persistently trying to get a dance with you, but you didn’t want to dance with a man who surely did not care about you. You were almost there when you collided with another man who grabbed you before you could fall to the floor.

You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw who it was.

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne…" You gasped and the man gave you a small smile before looking behind you at the man following you.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady ?"

You gulped and suddenly took his hand. If you were to say anything, your father would blame you.

"Please. Would you dance with me, Prince of Dorne ?" You asked and the man following you seethed.

"You were promised a dance with m—!"

"I believe the lady asked ME for a dance." Oberyn cut him off with his usual charismatic smile. "Unless your title happens to also be Prince of Dorne."

The man huffed before walking away and you let out a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when Prince Oberyn grabbed your wrist.

"Now now…Where are you going, little sunflower ?"

You frowned in incomprehension until Oberyn smiled again and pulled you flush against him.

"…I believe you owe me a dance."

Peter Baelish (Littlefinger) :

Lord Baelish had had your eyes on you for a while and he knew that being part of your powerful family would be extremely valuable. Hence, he asked your father for your hand. But, there were too many contenders for him to even be considered as a good choice. So…He observed you.

You were young, but promising as you danced with grace and proper etiquette with all your possible choices. But, he could see right through you. You weren’t exactly happy to be here. And when one of your possible betrothed stepped on your foot.

He stepped in.

He took your hand and almost pulled you away from the man. You were about to thank him, but Baelish had other plans.

"What will you give me for my rescue ?" Baelish asked you. You sighed. Of course he’d want a reward for acting like the hero he wasn’t.

"What do you want ?"

Baelish seemed to think about it before offering you his hand with a smirk.

"A dance."

Your eyes stared at his hand suspiciously. But, at this point ? You would have accepted anyone’s help in order to escape. He pulled you flush against him and started dancing with you. Your eyes widened as he led you away to the center or the room.

He knew everyone could see the both of you, but he didn’t stop—not even when you tried to pull away.

"Lord Baelish…That’s enough."

Your father tried to stop him, but Lord Baelish only smirked before surprising everyone by kissing you. Your eyes widened and you were momentarily took off guard. When he pulled away, he smirked before glancing challengingly at your father.

"Now…About my wedding proposal ?"

Sansa Stark :

"My lady…Would you please give me the chance of a dance ?" You asked Sansa who hesitated for a moment before smiling and slipping her hand in yours. You smiled before kissing the back of it and led her to the dance floor. Sansa had always wished for someone to take her hand and make her feel like a princess.

She had first thought Joffrey to be the one, but that felt like eons ago. She had long learned her mistake. But, it didn’t mean she didn’t still wish for someone to make her remember what it felt like when her innocence and virtue were still recognised.

And you were more than happy to make her remember who she used to be.

"You are beautiful." You told her truthfully and she smiled.

She even graced you with a small chuckle as you made her twirl and made sure not to touch her that might trigger her in any way. After her awful treatment under Ramsay, you only wanted her to feel at ease. At peace.

And she knew it.

When she looked at you and a smile graced her lips—your heart seemed to skip a beat.

The pretty wolf was still a stealer of hearts, and you couldn’t wait for her to devour yours.

[k4marina]

— viii. Beyond the Wall || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: while you and jon lead a hunting party north of the wall, you come face to face with a being that you'd only read about in history books.

warning: game of thrones cannon violence and themes follows the episode Beyong the Wall [S7, Ep6]

all dialogue in italics is Valyrian

authors note at the end !!

series masterlist ||

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

4.9k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

The weather had gotten slightly better, the sun was now up in the sky and the snow settled allowing you to see clearly again. The terrain had gotten more jagged the higher we climbed up the mountain. Piles of snow covered the already icy terrain, making it even harder to walk up the mountain. Had I’d known that I’d be brought back in time I would have packed my snowshoes. My feet felt numb and damp from the cold weather and the nonstop walking. 

Tormund led the group with Jon and I behind him. Gendry was by Jon’s side close by. Behind us were the Hound and Beric, another Wildling scout, and all the way in the back Jorah and Thoros who were busy talking amongst themselves. 

“Say we get what we came here for,” Jon glanced at me. “How are we supposed to get back to Eastwatch?”

“I’ll call Viserion and he’ll fly us back.”  

“He’ll hear you this far?” 

“I’ve instructed him to stay close. You may not be able to see him, but he’s a lot closer than you’d think."  

“Shouldn’t he be here with us so he can protect us?”

I thought for a moment before I replied. “The Night King can raise beings from the dead. You’ve seen what he can do with people and bears.” I turned to look at him. “Imagine what he could do with a dragon.” Jon stops for a moment but then nods, finally understanding why I was so protective of Viserion. 

I didn’t need to imagine like Jon, I knew exactly how the Night King raised Viserion and used him to burn down the Wall. I’ve already gotten rid of most of Euron’s fleet, lowering the chances of Rhaegal’s death, but the Night King was who I was the most worried about. If he could get his hands on a dragon then the destruction he would cause would be catastrophic.

Out in the distance, we could hear the sound of metal clinking. Tormund motions for everyone to stop and carefully walks forwards and peers over the edge of the cliff. He turns and motions for Jon and I to come see. A line of wights marched forwards led by a White Walker. 

“Where's the rest of them?” Jon asks no one in particular. 

“If we wait long enough we’ll find out.” Tormund says. The three of us walked back to the group once the undead were out of sight. 

“There’s a line of the undead marching to somewhere,” Tormund said to the group. 

“We need a plan, a good one.” I said. “Any ideas?” Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone to pipe up, but no one did.

I let out a breath, “alright, huddle up. Here’s what we’re going to do.” 

––

The undead marched in a line into a hilly area. The White Walker at the front of the line stopped hearing a crackling causing the other wights behind him to halt. It looks forwards and steps ahead, spotting a small burning fire. It cautiously walks towards it, assessing his surroundings. But before it could turn back, everyone sprung up from hiding, ambushing the wights. 

Jon takes on the White Walker while the rest of us fight the wights who relentlessly attack even after they’ve been cut down. Every time one of us cuts them down, they keep getting back up. As planned, Jon slays the White Walker, plunging Longclaw into his abdomen. It violently shakes and collapses into ice, causing the rest of the wights, except for one, to crumble to the ground. We huddled around the remaining wight, looking for an opportunity to grab onto it. 

Huffing, Tormund throws his axe down and punches the wight square in its mouth, knocking it down. Sandor jumps onto it as it screeches and writhes under the Hound while Beric, Thoros, and Gendry hold down its limbs. 

“Gag it!” Sandor yells. 

I reached into my pocket, quickly pulling out a makeshift gag and stuffing it into his mouth just in time, cutting its loud screeching. Sandor puts a bag around its head and ties it with rope while the rest of the men put chains around him and put it into the cage we brought. 

But it wasn’t quick enough. A low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Jon turns back, all of us knowing what that meant.  

“Call him!” Jon yells. 

I looked up to the sky, silently praying Viserion was nearby. “Come to me, now!” 

It’s silent for a moment, apart from the light rumbling, but then we can hear the sound of wings flapping and Viserion roaring out in the distance. 

“He’s too far! Run!” Jon screams, panicked. He turns and makes a run for it, all of us following after him. The rumbling grows louder and as the undead closes in on us. 

We ran into a clearing, a rock in the middle of it with the wights hot on our trail. The ground cracks as we run and climb onto the huge rock. There’s a scream behind us and I turn to see a wildling scout being grabbed by a wight, but when he falls to the ground the frozen lake gives way and the wildling and weight fall through. 

Everyone watched in horror as the army of the undead circled around us. The ice on top of the lake broke away, leaving us encircled by a line of broken ice and frigid water. The undead stood at the edge of the water, not daring to go any further, unless they wanted to drown and die. Their hollow eyes locked onto us watching our every move. 

“Where’s the dragon!” Someone shouts. 

I looked up, wondering the same thing. 

My heart beat loudly and my throat closed up. There were more wights surrounding us and if we stayed any longer the Night King would be here. I turned to face the others, who were clearly disheveled and panicking themselves. Jon stares off where the wights stood, almost anticipating an attack. 

Where the fuck was Viserion?

As if he heard me, there's a loud roar overhead and then fire rains down from the sky and burns the wights. Everyone's head snaps up as Viserion flies by, torching the undead and turning them into ash. 

“Move! Make way!” I flailed my arms around, motioning everyone to step back and create a clearing for Viserion to land. He lands onto the rock and everyone climbs up. I sat at the front with Jon, Tormund, Jorah and Gendry made sure the cage was properly secured while Beric and Sandor carefully helped the injured Thoros up onto the dragon.  

Swiftly, Visierion flies up and back towards Eastwatch. I looked down, watching the undead burn when something caught my eye. I squinted and spotted the Night King. 

In his hand was an ice spear and I felt my heart drop. My hands tightened around Viserion’s spikes. I turned back to the men behind me who were holding onto dear life. 

“Hold on tight! Do not let go!” 

They hunker down, some readjusting their grip. I look down again and see the Night King preparing his aim at us.

“Evade, Viserion. Do not let him touch you.”

Viserion dives down, burning as much as he could. He circles around and faces the Night King, who throws the spear towards us. Quickly, Viserion dodges, pivoting left and rains fire from where the attack came before retreating fully. 

I glanced back, but couldn’t see the Night King anywhere. 

––

When we arrived back at Eastwatch, night had fallen. The ship had been waiting for us, ready for immediate departure. Jorah and Sandor dragged the cage with the wight aboard while Jon said his goodbyes to Tormund. 

“Let’s go.” He turns to me. 

I shook my head. “You go, I still have something to do.” 

Jon, gobsmacked, shakes his head. “No, you saw what’s over that wall. You can’t go.”

“I have to.” I said. “And before you say anything, Daenerys knows that I’m doing this.” 

“Fine.” He huffs. “I’ll go with you.” 

“No you won't. You have to get back to Dany.” 

“And you don't?"

“I do. Just after I’ve done this.” 

He sighs, eyes darting back. “At least take Tormund with you.” 

“You know I can’t-”

“Please.” He cuts me off. He frowns and I sighed. 

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, he backs down. “Good.” 

“Now go. You have a Dragon Queen waiting for you.” I lightly shoved him back towards the ship. He shakes his head but boards the ship. Tormund and I stood there watching as the ship finally sailed off. 

––

The sun had just risen when Tormund and I met again in the hall. We each had a bowl of hot stew in front of us. 

“Alright, tell me the plan.” Tormund says, shoving a spoonful of the stew into his mouth. 

I drank some of the ale we’d been given. “I need to find a cave.” 

“There are a lot of caves.” 

“I know that.” I crossed my arms on top of the table. “This one is about east of the Fist of the First Men and west of the headwaters of the Antler River. There should be a huge Weirwood tree on top of it in a huge clearing.” 

He stops eating, staring at me. “There’s something in the caves.” 

I nod. “Something very valuable.” 

“Is it a dragon egg?”

I shake my head. “No.” 

“Then what?” 

“I’ll show you when I have it. So, can you help me?” 

He keeps his intense eye contact with me while slowly bringing a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. He loudly slurped, dragging it on longer than he should have. 

“Aye.” 

–––

“There,” Tormund's hand stuck out, pointing down at a small clearing in a forest below us. “If you land there then we’ll only have to walk a distance.” 

I nod and Viserion ascends down, carefully landing. We get off and Tormund rummages in his pack, pulling out an unlit torch. He raises it up to Viserion, waiting. I furrowed my brows, wondering what he was doing when it dawned on me. 

Knowing as well, Viserion looks back to me and I nod. He turns back and lets out just enough fire to light the torch without burning the Wildlings hand. 

Ecstatic, Tormund looks back at me, like a child. “Look!” I had to stop myself from laughing how easily entertained he was. 

Is this what the man who first created fire looked like?

I turned back to Viserion. “Stay vigilant for the undead. And stay close, I may need you.” He purrs, understands and flies away.

“Why isn’t he coming?” 

“Too much attention.” 

“What if we see White Walkers?” 

“What? Tormund Giantsbane can’t take care of a few White Walkers?” 

He puffs his chest, holding onto the torch tighter. “Of course I can!”

“Then let's go,” I said. 

We started walking through the dense forest, Tormund leading the way. The land was rugged and snowy, like most of the terrain beyond the Wall. My eyes scanned ahead in case any White Walkers or wights tried to attack us. We walked for hours before finally coming across it.

There was a clearing in the forest. A jagged hill in the middle with boulders around it. At the top was a giant Weirwood tree. Its branches fanned far out and high, its red leaves glowing in the sun. The trunk of the three was thick, a testament to how old it was. Its roots spread all over, some even exposed and covered in layers of snow. At the base of the hill, behind the boulders was a secret entrance. It looked as if it was blown open and then covered in rocks.

“Well we’re fucked.” Tormund says. “What the fuck even happened here?”

“White Walkers.” I replied, looking for an alternative entrance. “They ravaged the place.” 

“Looks like they did more than ravage.” 

I looked around for an alternative way in, pushing back rocks and the snow around the hill, but couldn’t find anything. 

“Right there,” Tormund points to a small opening, just enough for one person to pass through. It was on the other side of the hill, behind a large boulder. 

“You’ll have to stay out here.” I reached for the torch, but he pulled it away. 

“You don’t know what’s in there.” 

“Yes I do.” A few dead bodies and what I came here for the first place. 

“You just said White Walkers were here. They could be inside right now.” 

“And if they are, then I’ll kill them with my dagger.” 

“But-” 

“Tormund,” I firmly squeezed his arm. “I need you to stand guard and watch for any threat.”  He stops talking and puffs up again, nodding. He hands me the torch and pulls out his axe. 

I carefully slipped through the entrance, holding the torch out in front of me. Was it wrong for me to play into Tormund’s almost himbo mindset to get him to stay out? Sure. But, he didn’t seem to mind that much, happy to play on as the ‘big strong guy.’ 

Vines and three roots covered every inch of the place, even the ceiling. The passageway was narrow but opened up the deeper you went. I spotted a corpse of a man on the heavier side hunched over by a wall, which I assumed led to the other entrance. A little ways ahead, a direwolf with a white belly and a light brown fur coat lay lifeless too. The passageway opened into a large room, covered in three roots coming from up above. Bits of sunlight shone through the walls and ceiling. It was like being inside of a huge tree. 

In the middle of the room a cluster of roots stood tall, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Its wild tendrils mimicked the Iron Throne, and at the center was a frail, dead body of a man. He was entwined into the roots, having been there for a very long time, his nails long and jagged, arms and fingers boney, his silver white hair falling out. 

This was it. 

I searched the room, high and low, looking for what I came for. It wasn’t until I turned to look around the man did I spot it, covered in its black and red scabbard with faded gold detailing. I set the torch down, getting on my hands and knees to dig it out of the mess of tree roots. Finally free, I was able to fully admire it. 

I pulled the blade out of its sheath, the almost metallic liquid looking steel shining back at me, even after all these years of not being used it still looked to be in somewhat pristine condition. Its crossguard was made up of gold and in the design of dragonwings with a bright red ruby at the center above the rainguard. Its grip was leather bound, clearly worn with a scale pattern on them, and the pommel was made of two pieces; a golden piece mimicking fire and a chunk of Valyrian steel molded into a dragon egg. 

Quickly I sheathed the sword and grabbed the torch, making my way back. I walked briskly, feeling that something was off. As I approached the entrance I could hear grunting and an axe swinging before a thud. I hurried and got out, only to see Tormund on the ground, a wight on top of him while he tried to push it back. 

I work fast to pull the sword out of its scabbard, running to where Tormund was. I lift the sword high and bring it down onto the wight, killing it instantly. Panting, he pushes the wight off of him and back onto his feet, grabbing his axe. 

“Took you long enough.” He gets ready for another quip, but stops when he sees what’s in my hand. 

“What is that?”

“Dark Sister.”

––

“You’re not going to take a ship?” I shook my head at Tormund. “It’ll take too long.” 

“And on Dragon?” 

“Long, but still faster than a ship.” 

Viserion growls behind us, eager to leave and get back to his mother and two brothers.

“I’ll see you again.” I say.

“Stay safe, dragon women.” He sticks his hand out and we shake, holding onto each other forearms.

“You as well.”

I quickly mount Viserion, and take to the sky. The cold wind blew past me and I sighed, finally able to go home. 

–– 

Night had fallen by the time I had arrived back to Dragonstone. The moon lit my way from the cliff sides to the castle. Viserion quickly went to find his brothers, exhausted from flying in the North so much. 

I found Daenerys in the throne room, staring out of the large floor to ceiling windows, deep in thought. The door closed softly behind me, catching her attention. 

“You’re back. Was there any trouble?” 

“Had a brief encounter, but other than that nothing else.” 

She saw me covering the sword behind me. “What is that?”

“It’s yours.” I stepped closer, grabbing her hand and leading her up to the throne. “Nearly half a century ago, your family lost one of its ancestral swords. And it wasn’t until hundreds of years later was it found again by explorers.”

“I don’t understand.” 

I stood her in front of the throne, stepping back. “Brynden Rivers, bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy. In 233, he traveled to the wall with the sword and later became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but then he vanished while he was ranging beyond the wall, taking the sword with him.”

I pulled the sword from behind me, taking it out of its scabbard and presented it to her. The moonlight pouring into the throne room glistened against the blade. The gold detailing, despite its rust, stood out against the Valyrian steel detailing. And the bright ruby that already stood out, glowed a deep red. 

“Dark Sister,” Daenerys said, breathless. 

Carefully, she reached out, letting her fingers glide across the swirling steel. She finally grasped the slim handle, feeling the weight of the sword. Her eyes lingered on it before shifting towards me. 

“That’s why you went.” 

“Partially, but yes.” I replied. “Bit by bit, we’re going to restore your family back to its former glory. Starting with this sword.” 

––

Everyone stood in the open courtyard, eagerly waiting for the “demonstration.” 

Daenerys stood on the steps, Missandei, Tyrion, Varys, and I at her sides. Grey Worm and a few Unsullied stood close to them, ready for a sudden attack. Jon and his men stood in the middle of the courtyard, a box at their feet. 

“You said you wanted proof of the undead,” Jon looked at Daenerys. He motioned for Jorah to open the lid of the box, reaching in and pulling off the burlap sack. Sandor kicked the box and out fell a chained skeleton in rags. Everyone watched, intently, as the wight slowly woke up and let out a shrill. It tried to run and attack, but couldn’t as the chains kept him close to the box. 

Daenerys’ face drops, the full weight of the situation clear to her. This was more than a fight for the throne now, it was about life and death. Having seen enough she motions for Jon to cage the wight again. It screams when the Hound punches it in its face before being bound and caged again and then dragged away.

“All of you risked your life to bring the world proof of the undead.” Daenerys steps down the steps. She looks up at Jon. “We’re going to destroy the Night King and his army, together. You have my word.” 

There’s a weight lifted off of everyone, relieved that Daenerys had agreed to join sides with Jon. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jon tilts his head down and to everyone's surprise sinks down to one knee. Daenerys’ eyes widened, more surprised than anyone else. “I swear my allegiance to you, Daenerys Targaryen.” 

“What about those that swore allegiance to you?” 

“They’ll all come to see you for who you really are.” Jon replied. 

Daenerys squares her shoulders. “Rise, Jon Snow, Lord of Winterfell.” He stands and Daenerys takes his hands in hers, and the two share an intimate moment. 

Eventually, someone (me) loudly cleared their throat, pulling them back to reality. Awkwardly, they let go of each other, stepping back as if they’d been caught by their parents. 

“Let’s discuss this further in the painted chamber,” Daenerys says. She turns and walks down the hall. 

Daenerys sat at the head of the table with Missandei and I at her sides. Tyrion and Varys sat down as well, while Grey Worm and Jorah stood behind Dany at attention. Jon sat on the other end with Ser Davos at his side and his men behind him. 

“What is the progress on our armistice with Cersei?” Daenerys asks. 

“Cersei has agreed to it, surprisingly.” Tyrion replied. 

“That was easy.” Davos says. 

“She thinks we’re surrendering.” I turned to Tyrion. “Where are we meeting?”

“The old Dragonpit on Visenya's Hill. We’ll bring 300 Unsullied with us, half will be our escorts, the other half will stay by our ships. We’ll also be bringing 50 Dothraki with us.” He replied.

“We did say that we’d bring a small army to King's Landing.” I nodded towards Daenerys. I looked back at Grey Worm. “How were the upgrades to the Unsullied’s armor?”

“They have worked well. The armor is durable and the weapons are light and sharp. The enemy fell easily to us.” Grey Worm, nods, appreciative. 

“Good.” Daenerys says, bringing the attention back to her. “You all will arrive first with our gift while Y/n and I will arrive on Dragonback.” 

“Nope.” I shook my head. Daenerys turned to me, confused. 

“But-”

I shake my head again. “Nope. You need to assert your dominance on Cersei. Only you and Drogon will arrive together while I arrive with the rest. And, try to make it dramatic.”

Daenerys smiled, “I’ll do my best.” She turned back to the others, more serious now. “What is the progress on our travel to Winterfell?” 

“They’re fairing well, Your Grace.” Varys replied. “The servants have started packing all necessary items.” 

“What about food?” 

“We’ve got plenty now that Highgarden is ours.” 

“And for the dragons?” I ask. 

“We’ve filled as much as we can, but I’m afraid it’s not much. Perhaps the dragons can hunt while they’re North?” 

“We’re going as guests to the North and you’re suggesting that we slaughter their livestock?” I raised a brow. “The Northerners are already suspicious of other Westerosi, imagine what they’d think if a Targaryen brought her foreign army and three dragons to eat all their food, they’d never support us then. It doesn’t matter that we’re going to defend all of humanity along with them, the North will remember this. We’re going to defend the North and make nice with them.” 

Varys closes his mouth, looking towards Daenerys, who nodded at what I’d been saying. “I apologize, My Lady, Your Grace. It seems I may have misjudged.” 

I sighed through my nose, averting my gaze to Tyrion. “What about the villages on the island?” 

“The villages on Dragonstone?” 

I nod. “Ask them if we can take a few sheep from their herds, don’t say it’s an order, but as a sign of good luck or support towards Daenerys and her cause.” 

“Why would they do that?” Daenerys asks. 

“The Targaryens and the villagers have had a close relationship for many years. Some villagers are descendants of Targaryen bastards while others families used to tend to the dragons that have lived here. And second, you’re their Lord, anything you say they’ll do, within reason of course.” 

Daenerys seems to go over my words before nodding. “Alright,” she turned to Tyrion, “you have your orders.”

“We should also send ravens to Highgarden, Sunspear, and Pyke. We’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to go against the Night King and his army.” I say. 

Daenerys nods. “The meeting is in a few days and we’re set for Winterfell in a few weeks, we can not make any mistakes. This is more than a fight for the Iron Throne, this a fight for the Realm.” 

––––––

“Around eight-thousands Unsullied, nearly fifty-thousand Dothraki, one hundred Ironborn ships, two-thousand men from the Reach, and fifteen-hundred Dornish. That’s what, sixty one-thousand five hundred men?” I read aloud, 

“And Cersei?” Daenerys asks, back to me and facing the window.

I sighed, looking down at the paper. “Around twenty-thousand Lannister soldiers, four-thousand in the City’s Watch, one hundred and fifty Ironborn ships, and if she’s lucky, which I doubt, twenty-thousand soldiers from the Golden Company. Making the grand total, forty four-thousand with the Company and twenty four-thousand without.” 

“She’s out numbers either way.” 

“She is, but that doesn’t mean she’s that less of a threat. Cersei’s forces may be smaller than yours, but she’s strategic and resourceful which is why when we’re in King’s Landing it’s important to keep your head on a swivel, you can’t underestimate her.” 

“Head on a swivel?” She turns, frowning. “Is this another one of your ‘figures of speech’?” 

“Yes, something like that.” I smiled. “But I’m being serious, Dany. Keep your eyes open for anything. It could be a remark or a gesture, you are our number one priority.” 

She nods, sitting down next to me. “What about Jon?” 

“His numbers?” 

“Yes.” 

I turned over the paper, “ten-thousand men from Northern houses, three-thousand Wildlings, and four-thousand Knights of the Vale.” 

“Which means seventeen-thousand in total.” She adds up. “Making my total forces seventy eight-thousand five hundred soldiers. How many would I lose after fighting the Night King?”

“Half at best. All of them at worst.” I stretched my back. “From what I remember, it’s estimated that he has almost two hundred-thousand in his army.”  

Daenerys looks at me, bewildered, “How are we supposed to win if she says no? We'd be greatly outnumbered.” 

I placed a hand over hers. “Well, for starters, we have three dragons, and once we’ve slain the Night King the rest of his army will fall. So the quicker we can shank him to death, the better our numbers.” 

She sighs, squeezing my hand. “It seems all you’ve been doing as of late is comforting me when I should be comforting you. You’ve fought in battle after battle, yet you don’t seem all that affected.” 

“It’s no big deal.” I gave her a small smile. 

She studies my face, frowning. “What is it?” 

I looked away, contemplating. “I had a dream the night before we’d arrived at Eastwatch. I doubt that it was a Dragondream, or it would have come true, or it was me remembering the future, but I dreamt about it.”

“What was it?” 

I faced her fully, grabbing her hands. “Originally, Jon and his men were supposed to go to Eastwatch. Once they’d gotten the wight, they were surrounded by the Night King and his army. Jon had sent one of the men with him back to send you a raven of what was happening. You and all of your dragons arrived to rescue them, but while fleeing the Night King threw a spear at Viserion, killing him.” I felt Daenerys’ grip on my hand tighten. “The rest of you managed to escape, but then the Night King resurrected Viserion and turned him into a wight. After that, he used Viserion to melt down the wall and march south.” 

Daenerys lets out a shaky breath. “But now he doesn’t have him, so he won’t be able to march south, right?” 

I shrugged. “In theory, but we live in a world of dragons and the undead walking.” I sighed, rubbing my face. “The Wall and him are made of the same magic, his is just darker, I guess? His sole reason for being alive is to cause destruction and plunge the world into a long and bitter winter. He’ll find a way south, it may take him some time, but it will happen.” 

She nodded, taking the information in as well as anyone would in her situation. 

“Hey,” I said. “No frowning, come on. We have a big day coming, so no frowning, okay?” 

She smiles, nodding. “Alight, no frowning.”

“So,” I smiled, my tone lighter. “How are you and Jon doing?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied quickly, turning away from me. 

“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. “Then that little scene in the courtyard was nothing? The way you two looked into each other's eyes.” I leaned in, placing my chin on her shoulder, looking over at her. “They way you two affectionately held onto each other's hands.” 

Her face turned red. “He was merely swearing his allegiance to me, nothing more.” 

“Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you two fancy each other?” 

“Jon likes me?” She quickly turns, trying her best to hide her smile. 

I huffed. “For someone who has nothing going on with him, you sure do look happy that he’s attracted to you.”

She looked like she'd been caught with her hand down the cookie jar. 

“Be honest, do you like him?”

She tried to hide her smile, looking down at her lap. “Yes.”

I smiled. “Finally, she admits it. I’m not against it,” I hummed. “You two would make a good couple, dare I say perfect.” 

She gasped, face red. “Alright, enough. Go, shoo, leave me be.” 

I laughed, getting up. “Fine, fine. But I’m not wrong. Maybe you should put some thought into it.” 

a/n: i know i'm horrible for updating late (like always), but i was soo stressed from shopping and packing everything that i kinda forgot about it ngl. but who cares lol.

i've suddenly gotten a bit more motivated to write some of my other series so perhaps i'll upload that, but it all depends on if the motherlands network allows me to.

anyways, i'll be back with another chapter once i'm back home. see you all!

taglist: @wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions @honeycola-umbra

[fandom-puff]

It's absolutely fine if you are not comfortable with it, but could I please request happy, tipsy sex with Tyrion Lannister? Preferably with an established relationship? Again no pressure if that doesn't work, thank you! xx

Thank you for your request- hope you enjoy!!

Tipsy

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warning: drunk sex (both Tyrion and reader are at the same level of tipsiness; neither is blackout drunk), alcohol consumption

Gif creds to owner

“More wine, my lady?”

You nodded and with a grin held out your goblet for Tyrion to fill, not moving until he had filled it to the brim, making Bronn laugh.

It had been a pleasant evening; a new shipment from Dorne had come into King’s Landing, and Tyrion had a few bottles of the finest Dornish red brought up to his chamber. Between you, him, Bronn and Podrick, you had cleared off nearly all of the bottles and the effects were beginning to show. Podrick was slumped in his chair, dozing with a small smile on his face, the occasional snore sounding from him. Bronn had started to slur and put a ‘fuck’ or a ‘cunt’ in every other sentence.

And you and Tyrion had been eye-fucking each other for the best part of an hour.

Tyrion drained his cup before setting it down. “Bronn, Podrick, leave us,” he said suddenly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Bronn kicked Pod’s leg. “Come on, lad. Else you’ll end up watching your Lord fuck his lady,”

Any other time you would’ve shot the sellsword an indignant look… but right now you had eyes only for your Lion of Lannister, but when the door slammed shut, it was you who pounced, your lips pressing to his in a feverish kiss.

“My, my, sweet YN,” Tyrion groaned between kisses. “It seems the Dornish gets you hot,”

You tugged on his lower lip, your fingers knotting in his hair, one hand trailing down to the straining bulge at the front of his breeches. “Should say the same for you, Husband,” you murmured, voice low and sultry, your hand closing around his cock. Tyrion watched with amusement and longing as you fumbled with the strings of his breeches, releasing his pulsing cock and taking it (albeit clumsily) into your mouth.

“YN,” he rasped, tugging at your hair until you released him with a lewd, wet noise. “I won’t last long in your pretty mouth,” you pouted up at him, your lips slightly swollen. “I’d much rather spill my seed in your tight little cunt,”

He laughed at how quickly your face brightened, and he pulled you up from the floor. You grinned, pushing him back on the plush couch, squealing as he reached up and tore the bodice of your dress, admiring the swell of your breasts as he tugged at the strings of your corset. Soon you were stripped bare, straddling him on the couch. He grasped at your thighs as you lowered yourself to his cock, his fingers fluttering through your wetness briefly. He grunted as his tip slid between your folds, before your plunged him deep inside you with a throaty moan.

“Gods,” he groaned as you rode his cock. “Oh, Gods,”

“Now’s not the time for prayer, my Lord,” you reminded him. “Unless, of course, you want to fuck me in the Great Sept of Baelor,”

Your words spurred Tyrion on, and he met your movements with thrusts of his own, and he relished in the way your eyelids fluttered. “Such-ah- blasphemy, my sweet wife,” Tyrion groaned, “wine turns you into quite the little harlot it seems,”

“Tyrion,” you moaned out, gripping onto his shoulders for leverage, and he smiled as he felt your movements stutter. “Tyrion, please,”

“Too focused on my cock to listen to me, Hmm?” Tyrion teased, pinching your nipple. “Come for me then, YN, let me feel you,”

You would’ve came with or without his bidding, your cunt fluttering around his thick cock as you cried his name, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm quickly following yours as he filled your clenching pussy with his seed. “Fuck, YN, good girl,” he praised, and as you fell forward onto his chest, he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

Clumsily, you managed to make it to bed (tripping over an empty bottle along the way) and into your Lion’s arms. Your head would ache on the morrow, but the ache in your thighs would be worth it.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'GAME OF THRONES MASTERLIST,

𝑀𝑈𝐿𝑇𝐼-𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑇𝐸𝑅 👑

📟 : [ NSFW ]

imagines and headcanons

none yet!

💽 : [ SFW ]

'LOVE CAN KILL, - how the GOT and HOTD characters get jealous