#You just made her Nameday lmao

[lcstkey]

Meiko rarely celebrated her own nameday, but others'? She always went out of her way for those!

"Aye, lass," Meiko carried in a giant tomato Mandragora plushie and set it down on Selena's bed in her room in their Free Company. "Nameday gift from me an' Tataru! Hope you can make room for this guy."

@vierandancer | Nameday/Birthday Shenanigans!

"...Hm?" Hearing the door open, Selena sets her quill down on her desk and turns to see the Viera carry the largest tomato Mandragora plushie she has ever seen through the door and plopped onto her bed. Eyes wide in surprise, laughter escapes her.

"D-dear Deliora, Meiko!" Wondering where the plushie came from, the keybearer draws a blank, but, after hearing Tataru's name, the keybearer realized that it had to be commissioned.

Giggling, Selena stands up to walk over and inspect the plush. She immediately recognizes the Lalafell receptionist's loving and masterful stitchwork. She gently pats the top of the tomato Mandragora's head.

"Thank you! I love it!" With the biggest smile on her face, the keybearer hugs Meiko, "I'll have to stop by Mor Dhona, and give Tataru my thanks as well."

The transcribing can wait a few more moments.

[undertheorangetree]

Urgency

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Possessive/jealous sex. Against a wall lmao. Vaginal fingering. Mild exhibitionism. Reader is purposely riling him up. He calls her a whore but in a fun way.

Author’s Note: You can find the full fic on AO3 the link is below plz feel free to let me know what you think :))

The queen had spared no expense on her son’s nameday, that much is clear the moment she walks into the hall. Perhaps Prince Aegon had been involved in his own party planning as well, as there are flagons upon flagons of wine, ale, cider, and even a few vials of absinthe lining the walls of the great hall alongside all the mountains of food. It is the first party that she has experienced since marrying Prince Aemond six moons passed and she doubts she will ever see anything so extravagant ever again. She does not think even her wedding compared to this, with all the finery and gold and jewels that seem to be everywhere her turns.

She too had done her best to dress up for the occasion. She had been gifted a beautiful Lysene gown two moons ago, a pretty blue thing made of silk and chiffon, full of layers and very low cut. It showed off far more of her breast than she is used to and is too thin to wear a shift beneath. She had been unsure about it at first but now that she stood amongst all the lords and ladies of the court, she feels as though she fits right in. And besides, she has other plans for this gown besides simple fashion.

Her husband has been ignoring her. She does not know if he truly noticed it himself, but she had seen little and less of him these past few weeks. Running countless errands with the excuse of duty, squeezing in training and dragonriding whenever he is given space enough to breath. She thinks she has only really seen him when he collapses in their bed at night, pressing a tired kiss to her cheek before falling asleep just as his head hits the pillow. There has been no time allotted for her and though she does not blame him for it- she had noticed rather quickly that he has a tendency to be very one track minded- she will not allow for it to stand any longer.

So she had decided to wear her new blue dress to show him just what he has been missing out on. To remind him that his wife is young and beautiful and here and needed more from him than a half mumbled goodnight.

And, much to her delight, he seems to notice immediately. She watches elated as his eye widens almost comically at her approach, roving over her as if he can’t quite believe that she’s real. It is not difficult to ignore him as he has her, instead making her way to stand before Aegon. She wishes him a happy nameday, endures the drunken, lazy smile he gives her as he assures her it is a very happy day indeed, before skirting around the table to sit by Aemond’s side. She does not deign to look at him, staring straight ahead at the crowd before them, and lets out a heavy sigh. His eye had been boring into the side of her face but it darts down then, watches as her breasts rise and fall with her breath, and she suppresses the urge to look too smug.

Aemond has always been good at keeping himself composed and so she expected him to have more resolve, to sit and stare for only the Gods know how long while he quietly seethed. So she is almost surprised when she feels his hand close around the back of her chair, leaning in close only a few moments after she has sat down.

“What are you wearing?” he manages to ask, grit out between clenched teeth.

She smiles, doing what she can to seem oblivious as she turns to look at him, head tilted. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure which one to wear but my maid and I narrowed it down to this and the purple dress from Qarth. Do you remember it? Should I have worn that one instead?”

The question is rhetorical, as he knows very well which dress she is talking about. An ambassador from the Free Cities had arrived with a whole host of gifts for the royal family, including two massive crates filled with dresses for herself and Helaena. The pretty Lysene dress she wore now had been among them, along with gowns from Bravvos, Meereen, Essos, and the like. She had forced Aemond to sit and watch as she tried them all on, the latest fashions from all over the eastern world. The purple Qartheen dress had been particularly memorable to him as there was only enough fabric in the bodice to cover one breast, the other bared entirely. He had deemed the show over at that point and had fucked her against the wall to show his appreciation for the gown.

She bites her lip to suppress a grin when his face flushes red at the memory, his knuckles gone white around the knife’s handle in his hand. She swears she can hear the wood creak under his grip on her seat as well and doesn’t think she would be surprised if it cracked under his hand.

Her head cocks in the opposite direction as she hums, wordless encouragement to answer her previous question, but she isn’t entirely sure he is listening to her anymore. His eye has darted down again, tracing along the lines of her gown and she indulges him, pushing her chest out a little farther. It is almost funny, how she has reduced him to this. He almost reminds her of Aegon in this moment, a comparison she knows he would loathe. And though it is unkind and she knows that she should keep her torture confined to this alone, she want to see how far she can push him. It has been weeks-three, to be exact- since they had an intimate moment alone together and her patience for abstinence has worn thin. If this is her moment to ensure that her husband’s attention is on her entirely, then she is going to leap at it.

She does not have to wait long for her first opportunity to present itself. Lord Erwin Lannister, some second or third cousin off the main branch of the family tree, has come forward to offer good tidings and the moment he is done with Aegon, he sets his sights on her. Despite the fact that Aemond is practically limp across her lap, little Lord Lannister approaches with his head held high, offering them both a polite bow. The way he takes in her gown, however, is anything but polite, eyes hungry as he stares.

“My lady, it would be an honour to have your first dance of the evening, if you would indulge me.”

Aemond’s mouth twists immediately. “I would think that honour should go to the lady’s husband, should it not?”

The confidence Lord Erwin had arrived with falters at her husband’s tone, but she is not about to allow this opportunity to pass her by. Not without putting up some kind of fight.

“But you’ve been so busy, my love,” she laments, pressing a loving hand to his chest. “You should rest. I’m sure my Lord Lannister would be more than happy to dance with me, would you not, my lord?”

“Of course, my lady,” Lord Erwin agrees, likely far faster than he should have.

She graces the young lord with a smile before turning to press a kiss to Aemond’s cheek. She flits away quickly, standing and joining Lord Erwin on the floor. It takes everything in her not to look back at him, not to revel in the way he is surely seething at the loss of her attention.

Luck continues to be on her side, as the dance the musicians are playing requires her to stand quite close to Lord Erwin. The dance is one she knows well, so she does not need to think as she follows the steps. Instead, she dares to glance toward Aemond as she dances around the young lord, hardly paying him any mind as she watches her husband. She does not think Lord Erwin minds, as he is staring at her chest so single mindedly she does not think he would hear her should she speak to him. Aemond’s gaze is even more intense. His eye is trained on her as if he cannot bare to turn away, his mouth twisted and face drawn in a way she can’t quite describe. She recognizes the rage in his eye when it shifts from her to Lord Erwin, face hardening further, and she turns to face her partner.

“Are you enjoying the fete, my lord?” She asks, keeping her voice low so that there is no risk of Aemond hearing.

Despite his initial confidence, he looks almost shocked that she is speaking to him now and has to take a moment before responding, likely trying to decipher what it is she has just said. “Yes, my lady. Are you?”

She presses a little closer to him as the dance requires, eyes darting up to catch sight of Aemond and his clenched jaw before she turns back to the young lord and smiles. “Oh, yes. I am enjoying it immensely.”

She dances four more dances with separate partners before Lord Erwin returns, his confidence returning now that he believes Aemond will not be storming in to throw him aside. And Aemond does not turn away from her the entire time, his eye boring into her so fiercely she thinks it would cause anyone else to shy away. But not her. Instead, it takes everything in her to keep her smirk at bay, chest light as pride bursts through her.

“If I may be so bold, my lady, you look particularly beautiful this evening. Is this a new dress?” Lord Erwin asks, eyes once again locked on her chest.

“It is, my lord. Thank you. It is my husband’s favourite, I think.”

Though Lord Erwin opens his mouth to respond, a voice cuts him off before he can, a rough hand clasping around her elbow. “We’re going to retire for the evening.”

Lord Erwin is forgotten immediately as she turns toward her husband, smiling politely. “We have barely been here an hour, husband. Surely it is poor manners to leave so soon.”

“We’re leaving,” he repeats, much more stern this time.

Read the rest here :)

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think there's sufficient evidence in fire and blood's text that rodrik arryn raped daella, even if non-violently and under the sanctity of marriage? i just scrolled through a bunch of reddit arguments on whether or not rodrik and daella's marriage was truly romantic, consensual, and egalitarian one and i know you're the only person who'll answer this question fairly.

I think that these questions about "is there a way to meaningfully consent in this situation where a teenager marries an adult" are like, fundamentally silly. The answer is just objectively no, and it doesn't really matter how you slice it. This is my most firmly "anti" stance and it's not one I'm ever willing to budge on; this is not to say that there isn't some level of romanticism going on in these relationships, but I think it's just goofy and disingenuous to pretend like being 15 and married to a man your father's age doesn't have a massive impact on your growth, maturity, and relationship with sex. Especially in this series where we often do follow these relationships to their very end points, whether happy or tragic, it's just like, supremely stupid to ignore the shady ways that they started out. The age and maturity gap is part of the dynamic! It informs it!

It's not to say these relationships don't have romanticism baked in; I tend to categorize them as "surprisingly healthy" "romantic and destructive" and "completely destructive." I think Rhaenys and Corlys fall under the first one, Dany and Drogo are in the second one, and Lysa and Jon Arryn are in the third. Rhaenys & Corlys aren't excused from having some clear issues in their marriage (hello the Marilda affair and succession issue!!!!) just because their marriage is more or less healthy and consensual, but at the same time, it's silly to pretend like there isn't a romantic element to Dany & Drogo's relationship - the argument here is simply that the destructive element far outweighs the romantic one (and also,,,,, Drogo is simply not a deep character, he doesn't have a character outside of violent warlord but that's a whole other rant). And of course, the Jon-Lysa marriage is just completely destructive to Lysa's sense of self, not to mention the crazy political ramifications of Jon freezing Lysa out.

Now this specific situation....I mean what romanticism is there even to speak about lmao?? first of all, can't point out enough how ddeeply deranged jaehaerys is about this whole thing:

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.” “A hundred naked men would frighten her,” Alysanne said, unamused. “A hundred naked ducks would frighten her,” the king replied. “And if she will not wed?” the queen asked. “Maegelle says the Faith will not want a girl who cannot read her prayers.” “There are still the silent sisters,” said Jaehaerys. “Must it come to that? Find her someone. Someone gentle, as she is. A kind man, who will never raise his voice or his hand to her, who will speak to her sweetly and tell her she is precious and protect her…against dragons and horses and bees and kittens and boys with boils and whatever else she fears.”

She's not even 16!!!! Hardly an old maid even by their standards - remember that Catelyn and Brandon's betrothal was made when she was 12 but they didn't set a date until 282, when she was 17 going on 18!!! And there's just no reason why Daella should be rushed into marriage given how many older siblings she has; I mean it's not like they were rushing Lollys Stokeworth into marriage until after her rape during the riot and she was 33, and a lot of that is because she is "simple" and Tanda Stokeworth clearly wants to wait for a husband who is willing to care for her properly. Both Jaehaerys and Gyldayn try to absolve Jaehaerys of responsibility here but there's just no good reason to be threatening to send Daella to the freaking SILENT SISTERS just because she's 15 and doesn't seem interested in marriage. Goofy, silly, noxious behavior here. But moving on to Rodrik.

Queen Alysanne admitted, “but he is the sort you asked for, a kind and gentle man, and he says that he has loved our little girl for years. I know he will protect her.” To the astonishment of every woman at the court, save mayhaps the queen, Princess Daella chose Lord Rodrik to be her husband. “He seems good and wise, like Father,” she told Queen Alysanne, “and he has four children! I’m to be their new mother!” What Her Grace thought of that outburst is not recorded. Grand Maester Elysar’s account of the day says only, “Gods be good.” ...Nor was there a bedding. “Oh, I could not bear that, I should die of shame,” the princess had told her husband to be, and Lord Rodrik had acceded to her wishes. Afterward, Lord Arryn took his princess back to the Eyrie. “My children need to meet their new mother, and I want to show the Vale to Daella. Life is slower there, and quieter. She will like that. I swear to you, Your Grace, she will be safe and happy.”

There's a few red flags here and a few okay things here. I think it's very odd that Daella's excitement at being a stepmother is considered an outburst that Alysanne mislikes and that Grand Maester Elysar says "gods be good." Weird to me idk!! Also, sorry, don't care about the time period, it's weird that he says he's loved her for years (and Corlys is weird for the Rhaenys/Marilda stuff, make no mistake!!!) BUT he doesn't force a bedding on her and he mentions taking her to the Vale because it's quieter, which is honestly a nice thing for Daella, who hates large crowds and court in general. This feels, initially, not dissimilar to like, the Sansa-Willas thing; is it shady? Yes, objectively. But that doesn't mean it has to be an unpleasant marriage, and something strong can grow there. However...

And so she was, for a time. The eldest of Lord Rodrik’s four children from his first wife was a daughter, Elys, three years older than her new stepmother. The two of them clashed from the first. Daella doted on the three younger children, however, and they seemed to adore her in turn. Lord Rodrik, true to his word, was a kind and caring husband who never failed to pamper and protect the bride he called “my precious princess.” Such letters as Daella sent her mother (letters largely written for her by Lord Rodrik’s younger daughter, Amanda) spoke glowingly of how happy she was, how beautiful the Vale, how much she loved her lord’s sweet sons, how everyone in the Eyrie was so kind to her... In the Vale, however, her sister Daella was not doing near as well. After a year and a half of marriage, a different sort of message arrived at the Red Keep by raven. It was very short, and written in Daella’s own uncertain hand. “I am with child,” it said. “Mother, please come. I am frightened.”

Though the princess professed delight that her mother had come, and apologized for sending her such a “silly” letter, her fear was palpable. She burst into tears for the slightest reason, and sometimes for no reason at all, Lord Rodrik said. His daughter Elys was dismissive, telling Her Grace, “You would think she was the first woman ever to have a baby,” but Alysanne was concerned... She was half right. Aemma Arryn, the daughter of Lord Rodrik and Princess Daella, came into the world a fortnight early, after a long and troubled labor. “It hurts,” the princess screamed through half the night. “It hurts so much.” But it is said she smiled when her daughter was laid against her breast. Everything was far from fine, however. Childbed fever set in soon after birth. Though Princess Daella desperately wished to nurse her child, she had no milk, and a wet nurse was sent for. As her fever rose, the maester decreed that she might not even hold her babe, which set the princess to weeping. She wept until she fell asleep, but in her sleep she kicked wildly and tossed and turned, her fever rising ever higher. By morning she was gone. She was eighteen years of age. Lord Rodrik wept as well, and begged the queen’s permission to bury his precious princess in the Vale, but Alysanne refused. “She was the blood of the dragon. She will be burned, and her ashes interred on Dragonstone beside her sister Daenerys.”

So to break this down Daella

Clashes with Rodrik's oldest immensely with Elys being quite cruel and in my opinion incredibly out of pocket when Alysanne gets there for what seems to be no real reason

Her letters are all written by Rodrik or Amanda and they are all glowing

FInally sends her own letter in her own hand and all it says is "i'm scared"

Immediately backtracks and says the letter was "silly"

Has started crying at odd times, something she didn't do before

This feels bad. This feels suspicious. This feels like Daella is regressing mentally and her correspondence is being controlled by her husband. Like Elys and likely Amanda are not very understanding of her needs, or her fears. She doesn't profess any sort of love for Rodrik to her mother's face, and Amanda despite being "close" to her isn't here to comfort Daella as she's having a troubled pregnancy. Then she dies.

The marriage barely lasts long enough to establish any sort of romanticism and what's there is bleak and confusing. It doesn't even feel like a Stockholm-y Dany/Drogo situation, where Daella simply forces herself to love a husband that is cruel to her; Daella does not seem particularly close to anyone in the Vale and Alysanne seems so suspicious of the whole thing that she not only inters Daella on Dragonstone, she also seems to have raised Aemma herself. She doesn't seem to give a single shit about Rodrik's grief here. Maybe that's just Alysanne being Alysanne but the fact that Gyldayn straight up says she's blaming Jaehaerys and Rodrik due to "pride" and Gyldayn is a nasty odious misogynist, I think it's very likely that Alysanne picked up on some really bad vibes from the Arryn family and the situation Daella was in.

To me, this is a Jon/Lysa redux. This is "what happens if Lysa was sickly and Jon married her." There doesn't seem to be any real care put into taking care of her, there seems to have been an active conspiracy to isolate her from her mother, and Elys is cruel to her for no reason. There's no romantic elements here for me, not even of the "toxic twin flame" or grooming variety; Daella is forced to marry, Daella is isolated from her family and impregnated, and Daella dies. I think at best Rodrik was hoping to get his blood on the throne in a generation or two and what he wept for was not the loss of a wife he loved but the loss of station when he saw just how pissed off Alysanne was about the whole ordeal. There's just nothing in the text to convince me that Rodrik was genuine or that Daella had fallen in love with him.

[thesilverlady]

https://www.tumblr.com/thesilverlady/714939705545949184/ive-looked-and-i-havent-seen-you-talking-about?source=share

Please can you share your headcanons of Helaena and her relationships especially the one that she had with Aegon and her children

The fact the both of them are married and have children together but never shared one single interaction is one of the worst choices hbo has ever made and people want to convince you that they made Helaena better than her book counterpart lmao. Sorry but obsession with bugs is not even a personality to begin with

the fact HBO sucked out the dynamics from every single character was definitely... a choice

and yeah, I understand Helaena gets some ridiculous hate but pretending making her the way they did is somehow better than her book canon self is a deep delusion.

SO HELAENA HEADCANONS (I decided to make them a bit generic to cover more of her life, but if you want a solo only for Aegon x Helaena let me know)

1) Helaena isn't really pious. She follows the faith as any person but she doesn't really demonize other women the way her mother does

2) Similar to her brothers, she loves hearing tales of her Targaryen ancestors. She prefers the romance however and is something she bonds over with Rhaenyra - who is the best storyteller

3) Her older sister is someone she looks up to; as a child she dreams of being like to Rhaenyra when she grows older

4) Helaena has a small circle of lady friends but they've all been Hightower approved™ She doesn't mind this much, as long as there's no bad talking about other family members

5) She's the most patient of her siblings and lacks the temper the rest have. It takes a lot to piss her off - which is why it's shocking her she does snap

6) She gets along with her father just fine. He obviously loves Rhaenyra very much but he never makes her feel unwelcome or unfavored when she's with him. Her favorite past time is when he dines privately with her and Rhaenyra, calling them his sweet girls.

7) Aegon & Aemond are nasty as kids. It wasn't that bad before Aemond was born but having another boy around really clicked for her older brother. They mock her for not being pretty and always have a way to downplay everything she does. Alicent reprimands them if she hears it but she doesn't actually do anything to punish them. The only satisfaction she gets is when they try to do the same with Rhaenyra. Her older sister has a reply to everything and she always makes the boys flash with embarrassment

8) Helaena may not have the striking targaryen beauty (she's by no means ugly, just y'know, quite normal, a bit plain) but she has the prettiest voice when it comes to singing. And she knows how to play the harp. She performs to her father and sister a lot.

9) She loves her dragon and wishes she could fly with dreamfyre more but her mother has always been very discouraging of spending time with their dragons. The boys never listen to her but Helaena must be a proper lady so she tries to appease her. It doesn't make her miss dreamfyre any less though

10) She absolutely adores Daeron, and he's definitely her favorite of the boys. She visits him and Baby Jacaerys a lot

11) Helaena is devasted when Daeron is sent away, and it's one of the rare moments where she stands up for herself and argues with her mother. Viserys tries to comfort her by telling her she can always visit him and exchange letters

12) She does end up being the one to have the most familiarity with Daeron. She always sends the most letters to her siblings that are far away (daeron & rhaenyra) and for her nameday she gets her own raven

13) She seeks advice from her mother and her ladies when her marriage to Aegon comes closer. They give the usual unhelpful ones "Be good, have patience, obey your husband" bs, so predictably, she goes to Rhaenyra in tears, because Aemond has also added a bunch of doubts about what her older brother will do to her. Her older sister definitely isn't pleased to be awaken in the middle of the night, but she does humor her with some good advices ("don't let him do anything you don't want, try to be on top for the first time, don't be hesitant to push him, convince him to do what you want, sex shouldn't be painful, there's more than just producing children it's for pleasure too")

14) Her first night as a wife is... not bad. Aegon actually seems nervous for once, and they share a drink. She almost chokes with how nasty her brother's drink taste and he laughs. She confesses she doesn't want this to hurt and ask him to at least try to be gentle. The first time still hurts a bit (patience isn't her brother's virtue) but at least he did spend enough time to prepare her. In their second time she asks to be on top (which catches him off guard but allows it) and both end up enjoying it much better

15) As it's expected Aegon does ask her where she got these ideas from and Helaena is honest about who she asked. He doesn't say anything and she worries he might tell their mother but surprisingly that never happens

16) Marriage doesn't change her brother, or his tastes. She only requires him to not go after her ladies or servants. She knows better than to attempt to control any aspect of his life but out of sight, out of mind

17) While Aegon isn't the most gallant man, the past mockery does stop and he event fistfights with Aemond when he doesn't end his remarks. Helaena doubts he did it necessarily for her sake but she can't deny there's a... charm to it.

18) Another common ground she finds with her husband is the protectiveness they feel over their twins. Tongues can be cut from nobles but their family is a different matter. Alicent urges them to have another child. Otto is brutally honest about how Jaehaery's deformities andJaehaera's sex is against their cause. Aegon and Helaena become a shield for their twins and will fight anyone who make nasty comments about them. Their family learns to be more... delicate with expressing their opinions relating to the twins

19) Mothers aren't supposed to have a favorite child, she knows that. But Helaena can't help favoring Jaehaerys more. Her first born son is sweet, and needy and never wants to leave her side. Jaehaera is so much less expressive and while she tries to work with her it can be hard. Maelor has an adventurous spirit and loves exploring. He's good for Jaehaera who he forces out of her shell, but Jaehaerys remains constant. He's her most beloved though she'd never say it aloud.

20) After b&c Helaena gets lost into her head. She's too ashamed to look at Maelor, too hearbroken to face Jaehaera. In the dark, she seeks to find someone to blame; Rhaenyra for not giving up her throne, Aegon for thirsting for blood, Aemond for starting this when he murdered their child nephew. She wants to blame her mother who fed and nurtured this hatred between her siblings wants to blame her grandfather whose ambition and greed were always a priority, but in the end she only blames herself. For not finding a way to prevent this; the war, her son's death. All the loss and pain. She can't live with herself. When King's Landing falls to Rhaenyra and she's taken captive Helaena won't bear to see any of her children or siblings die. She ends her life so she won't have to witness any further the horror that has befallen on their house

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Okay, but I cannot get the twin a.u with dark!aegon and dark!rhaegar with innocent!niece out of my head 🤭 here are some headcanons bc I can🤭

- first thing is first.

- the niece has seriously scary dog privileges.

-ok, now, while the niece was the eldest of rhaenyra's children, she was younger then the twins by a year.

-Rhaegar immediately grew attached and soon enough guards saw them running through the halls gleefully or her head on his lap as he read a history book, a flowercrown on his head and sipping wine under a tree.

- Aegon, however, didn't really care. Not until he had got black out drunk and the niece had offered to take him to bed, tucking him in. At that moment, he swore he saw an angel.

- thats when it clicked.

-a silent agreement was made between the twins.

- and so, the troublesome trio was born.

- for a nameday, they had both gifted her gold rings, which she never took off.

- one of them includes her favorite stone in it while the twins have matching ones, with their own favorite stones.

- where ever you would see the twins, their niece would follow.

-they would somewhat try to be on their best behaviour in front of their beloved niece.

-like Helaena, their niece was fascinated by bugs. Particular, butterflies.

- anytime one of them would hear somebody commenting how weird it was for her to like bugs, they would tag team them and beat them senseless, lmao.

- they are just overly protective.

-one name day, they gave her a gold ring with her favorite stone in it. They then showed her they all had the same ring, the only difference being the stones.

- both of them love to play and fiddle with the rings. They would go in for a hand hold before playing and twisting the rings.

- shared secrets. Like how their beloved niece caught the eye of a guard to which the niece has returned the guard's affection.

-people would have not been surprised if a betrothal between the niece and one of them (or both) was already in the words. Considering how close they all were.

- Even Nyra wasn't against it.

-many people found it odd, to say the least. An angel like her and the demon twins.

- but it worked.

- surprisingly, there was no jealously between the twins. Only when another man would try to flirt or win her hand. All hell would break lose.

- so the realm nicknamed her the princess protected by the two headed dragon.

- the good times had sadly come to an end when news came.

- their beloved niece would have to get married.

- unsurprisingly, they began working on a plan to get ride of what poor soul would have the guts to face them.

- they heard of what had (or may not have) happened between Daemon and Nyra when she was their age.

-so, they snuck her out when it was dark. Making sure they held onto her so she wouldn't get left behind.

- of course, they went to a brothel. Where it got heated, lmao. But they wanted to pace themselves. So they did.

- until the morning.

- lets just say Daemon and Nyra wasn't thrilled to find the twins taking their daughter out of the castle and to a brothel after dark and defiling her.

- plot twist tho, after they had left her, she made her way home by herself where she ran into the guard she had semi entered into a relationship with. Where then she her maidenhood.

-she entrusted a maid to keep quiet and to bring her moon tea. She couldn't risk it.

- not even trying to deny it, Aegon does what Aegon does best. "It's better her first experience be with one of us then some whore!"

- leading daemon to kick him. He isn't angry about the whole fucking before marriage thing but he knows what the realm thinks about women who have their own minds and desires.

- while Rhaegar is more level headed but like his twin, doesn't deny anything happend.

- the niece however...

- she is called to her mothers chambers while Daemon deals with the twins.

-she denys everything. "Neither of them touched me. All we did was go into town. It was nothing."

- rhaenyra can tell when her daughter is lying but like the great mother she is, she isn't angry. She just takes her daughters hands. After all, she had done the same thing, who was she to judge?

loveeeee this!!!!! 🥵🥵🥵🥵

[daenerys-targaryen-moved]

Your opinion on book Dany?

Short story short: I love her

Long story short: under the cut

(p.s a lot of this was from @rainhadaenerys​)

She is far superior than show!dany. i love book!dany so much more than I love show!dany, and that’s saying something because even then, I still adore show!dany. It has nothing to do with the performance of the character, Emilia truly did such a phenomenal and splendid job portraying Daenerys, it’s more how the tv show clearly and obviously changed her character to fit their narrative.

The show and the books are different when it comes to like... nearly everything. For Daenerys specifically, the made her cold, almost cruel. They made her irrational, they made her seem like she was teetering on the edge of madness. They removed the calm, rational, extremely intelligent and caring side of Daenerys. They started changing certain scenes for her character around season 2. I remember in 2.01 they had her say “When my dragons are grown we will take back what was stole from us, we will lay waste to our armies and burn cities to the ground. Turn us away, and we’ll burn you first.” which she literally never ever says in the books but ok. They also had Doreah BETRAY HER and then have daenerys KILL her. Which NEVER HAPPENED! Doreah died in the Red Waste, Daenerys giving her the last of the water they had and soothed her as she died.

Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on. - Daenerys I ACOK

They made her make irrational decisions, which she of course is capable of doing, she’s not perfect, but they had her male counselors around her calm her down and advise her against this and that when in the books! she is the one to tell them no to irrational plans and she’s the one to counsel them away from but whatever, men am I right? Dany doesn’t have “violent tendencies”, no more than any other characters. And the situation is quite the opposite: it’s Dany’s male advisors that keep telling her to be more violent and ruthless, and Dany is the one that controls them and holds them back. As an example, Jorah is a character that constantly tells Dany to be more dishonorable and ruthless, but Dany refuses:

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. “The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.” - Daenerys II ASOS

Daario keeps telling her to be more violent:

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

“You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

Another of her male advisors, Skahaz, also tells her to be more violent:

“If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession.”

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

“Your Radiance—”

“No, I said.” - Daenerys V ADWD

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.” Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her. - Daenerys V ADWD

Her sellswords want her to use her dragons, but Dany refuses:

Dany sighed. “I am sorry, Ben. I dare not loose the dragons.” - Daenerys V ADWD

And even though Tyrion and Dany haven’t met in the books, he is much more ruthless in the books than in the show:

The fact that there were any good wells at all within a day’s march of the city only went to prove that Daenerys Targaryen was still an innocent where siegecraft was concerned. She should have poisoned every well. Then all the Yunkishmen would be drinking from the river. See how long their siege lasts then. That was what his lord father would have done, Tyrion did not doubt. - Tyrion XI ADWD

She compensates her people for what they lost due to her dragons and treats them with kindness, even though her advisors suggest brutality:

“Three-and-twenty.” Dany sighed. “My dragons have developed a prodigious taste for mutton since we began to pay the shepherds for their kills. Have these claims been proven?”

“Some men have brought burnt bones.”

“Men make fires. Men cook mutton. Burnt bones prove nothing. Brown Ben says there are red wolves in the hills outside the city, and jackals and wild dogs. Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?”

“No, Magnificence.” Reznak bowed. “Shall I send these rascals away, or will you want them scourged?”

Daenerys shifted on the bench. “No man should ever fear to come to me.” Some claims were false, she did not doubt, but more were genuine. […] “Pay them for the value of their animals,” she told Reznak, “but henceforth claimants must present themselves at the Temple of the Graces and swear a holy oath before the gods of Ghis.” - Daenerys I ADWD

The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. ���At least rip out his tongue. This man’s lie could destroy us all, Magnificence.” Instead Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. “I would give Hazzea back to you if I could,” she told the father, “but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again.” - Daenerys II ADWD

Daenerys is really really funny. Like she is SO funny. I remember she asked Barristan what a ruler should have and when he answered with “Wisdom and courage.” she replied with “cheeks of steel” basically saying  her ass is sore from sitting on the bench slab for so long while seeing to her people. 

"Ser Barristan," she called, "I know what quality a king needs most." "Courage, Your Grace?" "Cheeks like iron," she teased. "All I do is sit."

(it’s even better when you remember the next day her throne room is full of pillow) She’s genuinely funny and D&D actually wouldn’t let her play Daenerys in a funny way - proving that she knows the character better than they do lmao.

She’s is also a child, she’s 13 in the books [which they couldn’t really play into since they had to age up show!dany for obvious reasons] but she’s very playful. She’s constantly laughing, joking with her girls, just being goofy in the books as well. I remember once she threw a grape at Xaro in a playful manner when he told her to stop.

She’s also very in love with Daario, who I don’t really like but whatever, but she literally fantasizes about being common folk with him and not having the weight of the world on her shoulders.

What is it?” she cried, as Irri shook her gently by the shoulder. It was the black of night outside. Something is wrong, she knew at once. “Is it Daario? What’s happened?” In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. In her dream he had been kissing her all over—her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

She really just wants a simple life and someone to love her, but she understands that it’s her duty and her mission to help as many people as she can.

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. "It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

She’s also so very very affectionate to those she loves and even those who she’s not even close to. She kisses and hugs like literally everyone. She kisses Barristan, she kisses Daario, she kisses Jorah, she kisses she city people, she kisses Missandei, Irri and everyone else who is around her. She shows herself through affection and small acts of kindness.

The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.” - Daenerys IV AGOT

Distantly, as from far away, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains. She put her arm around the girl. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I shall tell him.” - Daenerys V AGOT

When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician’s booth, Dany took that too and gave it to the handmaid, thinking that now she should find something for Irri and Jhiqui as well. - Daenerys VI AGOT

“Enough,” Daenerys said. “Prince Quentyn has crossed half the world to offer me his gift, I will not have him treated with discourtesy.” - Daenerys VII ADWD

Rhaegal roared in answer, and fire filled the pit, a spear of red and yellow. Viserion replied, his own flames gold and orange. When he flapped his wings, a cloud of grey ash filled the air. Broken chains clanked and clattered about his legs. Quentyn Martell jumped back a foot.

A crueler woman might have laughed at him, but Dany squeezed his hand and said, “They frighten me as well. There is no shame in that. My children have grown wild and angry in the dark.” - Daenerys VIII ADWD

When she returned to her rooms atop the pyramid, she found Missandei crying softly on her pallet, trying as best she could to muffle the sound of her sobs.

“Come sleep with me,” she told the little scribe. “Dawn will not come for hours yet.”

“Your Grace is kind to this one.” Missandei slipped under the sheets. “He was a good brother.”

Dany wrapped her arms about the girl. “Tell me of him.”

“He taught me how to climb a tree when we were little. He could catch fish with his hands. Once I found him sleeping in our garden with a hundred butterflies crawling over him. He looked so beautiful that morning, this one … I mean, I loved him.”

“As he loved you.” Dany stroked the girl’s hair. “Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.”

She cares for her brother, even though he molested her, abused her and sold her.

Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“No,” Dany replied. “No.”

Jhogo understood that. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed. Irri told her, “Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect.”

[…]

“Tell them I do not wish him harmed,” Dany said. - Daenerys III AGOT

She tries to ask forgiveness for taking his horse by giving him new clothes so that he would be respected:

“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

“Please … you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought … maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki …” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon. - Daenerys IV AGOT

“I saw His Grace this morning,” he told her. “He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine.”

[…]

“Is that wise?” she asked. “He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he’s betrayed?” Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King’s Landing would pay well for her brother’s head. “You ought to have gone with him, to keep him safe. You are his sworn sword.” - Daenerys V AGOT

She is willing to give Viserys her precious dragon eggs:

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. “Then … he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother … and my true king.” - Daenerys V AGOT

And she tries to protect him again during the feast in Vaes Dothrak, even when he takes out his sword and threatens her and her unborn child:

A sense of dread closed around her heart. “Go to him,” she commanded Ser Jorah. “Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon’s eggs if that is what he wants.” The knight rose swiftly to his feet. - Daenerys V AGOT“The blade … you must not,” she begged him. “Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There’s drink, food … is it the dragon’s eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword.” - Daenerys V AGOT

Daenerys most certainly has dragons blood in her. Her moments of anger are out of the hurting, suffering and death of others.

“Your servants have arrested the owner of the wineshop and his daughters. They plead their ignorance and beg for mercy.” They all plead ignorance and beg for mercy.

“Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question.”

“It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?”

“Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this.” She hesitated.

“Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?”

“Three freedmen, murdered in their homes,” the Shavepate said.

“A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her.”

The queen flinched. Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils.

“We have no captives but this wineseller?”

“None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon.”

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“It was a cruel fate, Yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”― Daenerys ADWD

Dany even cares about her enemies. She is merciful to people that attack her:

When she told him, the boy rushed at her, but his feet tangled in his tokar and he went sprawling headlong on the purple marble. Strong Belwas was on him at once. The huge brown eunuch yanked him up one-handed and shook him like a mastiff with a rat. “Enough, Belwas,” Dany called. “Release him.” To the boy she said, “Treasure that tokar, for it saved your life. You are only a boy, so we will forget what happened here. You should do the same.” - Daenerys I ADWD

“We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom.” Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael’s teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him.

“Enough,” she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. “No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away.” – Daenerys III ADWD

She prompts time and time again that she has no slaves, and that those who follow are are free to leave her at any time.

“Your slave Missandei.” Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

“My servant. I have no slaves.” – Daenerys ADWD

Dany fights against slavery. As soon as she gains any power, she starts freeing slaves:

“You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. […]” - Daenerys X ADWD

The first thing she does when Missandei is given to her is to set her free, and tell her that she can leave if she wishes:

"Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” - Daenerys III ASOS

And when Missandei’s brother dies, Dany comforts Missandei and offers to send her home again:

“As he loved you.” Dany stroked the girl’s hair. “Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.” - Daenerys II ADWD

When Dany sees Astapor, she is deeply affected by the suffering of the slaves:

“Make way!” Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. “Make way for the Mother of Dragons!” But when he uncoiled the great silver-handled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. “Not in this place, blood of my blood,” she said, in his own tongue. “These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.” - Daenerys II ASOS

He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. “Would you like another?” asked Kraznys.

“If it please your worship.”

It was hard to pretend not to understand. Dany laid a hand on Kraznys’s arm before he could raise the whip again. “Tell the Good Master that I see how strong his Unsullied are, and how bravely they suffer pain.” - Daenerys II ASOS

And she cares even about the lives of the masters and their children:

“More will die unless the murderers are punished.” […]

“How can I punish them when I do not know who they are?” Dany demanded of him. “Tell me that, bold Skahaz.” - Daenerys I ADWD

“Magnificence,” murmured Reznak mo Reznak, “we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills.”

“They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills.”

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. “We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl.” - Daenerys II ADWD

Dany pushed her food about her plate. She dare not glance over to where Grazhar and Qezza stood, for fear that she might cry. The Shavepate has a harder heart than mine. They had fought about the hostages half a dozen times. “The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” - Daenerys IV ADWD

“If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession.”

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

“Your Radiance—”

“No, I said.” - Daenerys V ADWD

Dany studied the scroll. All the ruling families of Meereen were named: Hazkar, Merreq, Quazzar, Zhak, Rhazdar, Ghazeen, Pahl, even Reznak and Loraq. “What am I to do with a list of names?”

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.” Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her. - Daenerys V ADWD

At the end of the day, in Daenerys’ core, she wants to help people who cannot help themselves. She wants to make sure what happened to her doesn’t happen to anyone else. She wants to end slavery because she knows what it feels like to be a slave and have no voice or choice in your life.

She’s constantly thinking about her people who need her.

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. - Daenerys I ACOK

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom. - Daenerys I ACOK

Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore. - Daenerys V ASOS

If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen. - Daenerys I ADWD

“Not a hole. A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.” - Daenerys III ADWD

“You spoke of help. Trade with me, then. Meereen has salt to sell, and wine …” - Daenerys

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.” - Daenerys V ADWD

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children? - Daenerys VI ADWD

And even when Dany is starving and sick in the Dothraki sea, she’s still trying to return to her people to take care of them:

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. - Daenerys X ADWD

She’s willing to put her life on the line to help others. In the books when a sickness comparable to the plague hits her city, bitch goes out into the streets of Mereen and fucking BATHES the sick while Barristan and one of her Unsullied tell her repeatedly that they should leave.

Dany walked right past him. There was an old man on the ground a few feet away, moaning and staring up at the grey belly of the clouds. She knelt beside him, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and pushed back his dirty grey hair to feel his brow. “His flesh is on fire. I need water to bathe him. Seawater will serve. Marselen, will you fetch some for me? I need oil as well, for the pyre. Who will help me burn the dead?”

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. – Daenerys VI ADWD

She wants to keep her people safe.

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …” - Daenerys II ADWD

Gods, she prayed, you took Khal Drogo, who was my sun-and-stars. You took our valiant son before he drew a breath. You have had your blood of me. Help me now, I pray you. Give me the wisdom to see the path ahead and the strength to do what I must to keep my children safe. - Daenerys V ADWD

“If battle is joined, let Grey Worm show wisdom as well as valor,” Dany told him. “Spare any slave who runs or throws down his weapon. The fewer slain, the more remain to join us after.” - Daenerys IV ASOS

She refuses to turn her back on people in need.

“It shall be done, Magnificence,” said Reznak mo Reznak. “What of these Astapori?”

My children. “They are coming here for help. For succor and protection. We cannot turn our backs on them.” - Daenerys V ADWD

“Mouths on feet. And sick, you say?” Reznak wrung his hands. “Your Worship must not allow them in the city.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “I’m no maester, mind you, but I know you got to keep the bad apples from the good.”

“These are not apples, Ben,” said Dany. “These are men and women, sick and hungry and afraid.” My children. - Daenerys V ADWD

Even feeding them had grown difficult. Every day she sent them what she could, but every day there were more of them and less food to give them. It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” - Daenerys VI ADWD

She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. – Daenerys VI ADWD

Many shat where they slept now, too feeble to crawl to the ditches she’d commanded them to dig. – Daenerys VI ADWD

“They are too feeble,” said Symon Stripeback.

Dany said, “More food might make them stronger.”

Symon shook his head. “Food should not be wasted on the dying, Your Worship. We do not have enough to feed the living.”

He was not wrong, she knew, but that did not make the words any easier to hear. “This is far enough,” the queen decided. “We’ll feed them here.” – Daenerys VI ADWD

Her wish for peace comes from not wanting to see bloodshed, from wanting to protect her people, and from thinking of all the people she failed to save:

Much of the talk about the table was of the matches to be fought upon the morrow. […] No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

When she sees injustice, she puts a stop to it immediately. She saves Tyrion and Penny while others simply saw them as disposable people there to die for their entertainment:

Dany was not pleased. “I forbid it.”

“Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people.”

“You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now.” - Daenerys IX ADWD

She has a wonderful military mind as well. She shows off her intelligence especially when she sacks one of the cities from the inside out, something I think they let Daario have because once again, Men. But anyways, she’s really smart and so intelligent. 

Dany cares about the lives of the Unsullied when no one else does. When Daario suggests that the Unsullied should attack the walls of Meereen under boiling oil because they feel no pain, Dany refuses, and tries to suggest a plan to avoid bloodshed.

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.” - Daenerys V ASOS

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” – Daenerys I ASOS

Dany insists on not turning away from the horrors in her way, and insists on personally seeing them. When the masters of Meereen crucify the children, Dany cares about them, and insists that she must see them:

Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.” - Daenerys V ASOS

When one of her soldiers is killed by the Sons of the Harpy, Dany cares, and insists that she must see him:

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”“He died for me.” - Daenerys I ADWD

Daenerys is very self sacrificial.

Dany is someone who is constantly ready to sacrifice herself for others. She is willing to stand up for other people and take risks to protect others from the very beginning, even before she becomes queen in her own right, before she her own power.

When Drogo attacks the Lhazareen, and Dany sees the horrors of war and what Drogo is doing to take the Iron Throne for their son, Dany stands up for the Lhazareen women, stopping the rape, and earning the enmity of Drogo’s men. She risks her life by going against them (and later, after Dany keeps defying them and defying taboos, they do try to kill her):

When she was done, Drogo was frowning. “This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.”

“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.” - Daenerys VII AGOT

“No,” Dany said. “I will not have her harmed.”

Qotho’s lips skinned back from his crooked brown teeth in a terrible mockery of a smile. “No? You say me no? Better you should pray that we do not stake you out beside your maegi. You did this, as much as the other.” - Daenerys VIII AGOT

When Drogo becomes sick, even though Dany is afraid, she tells herself that she would sacrifice herself for him:

“Death?” Dany wrapped her arms around herself protectively, rocked back and forth on her heels. “My death?” She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved. - Daenerys VIII AGOT

When Dany is travelling through the Red Waste with her people, she doesn’t claim any privileges, and goes hungry and thirsty with her people:

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick, yet it was her dragons she feared for. -Daenerys I ACOK

Once again, Dany puts her life in danger to help people, this time to free slaves, even though Dany is afraid (if her plan didn’t work, she and her people would have died):

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage. - Daenerys III ASOS

When Dany frees the slaves in Astapor, she lets them follow her, even though they are more of a burden:

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver’s armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst. - Daenerys IV ASOS

Even though Dany wants to sail to Westeros, Dany constantly chooses to sacrifice her goals in order to stay in Slaver’s Bay and take care of her people:

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.” - Daenerys VI ASOS

When Xaro offers her ships to go to Westeros, Dany refuses again:

“Enough.” Dany slapped the table. “No one will be left to die. You are all my people.” Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. “I will not abandon Meereen to the fate of Astapor. It grieves me to say so, but Westeros must wait.” - Daenerys III ADWD

Dany agrees to marry a man she hates and sacrifices her happiness for the sake of her people:

… but Daenerys Targaryen had other children, tens of thousands who had hailed her as their mother when she broke their chains. She thought of Stalwart Shield, of Missandei’s brother, of the woman Rylona Rhee, who had played the harp so beautifully. No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry. - Daenerys IV ADWD

“It is not,” she agreed, “but it is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.” - Daenerys IV ADWD

When Dany is offered yet another choice to go to Westeros, and this time with a powerful alliance with Dorne, Dany sacrifices this for her people and still decides to marry Hizdahr:

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai'i? If he had come with a fleet …”

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever. “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.” - Daenerys VIII ADWD

And when Dany marries Hizdahr and has her wedding night with him, we see just how much she is sacrificing her happiness:

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

“Crying? I was not crying. Why would I cry? I have my peace, I have my king, I have everything a queen might wish for. You had a bad dream, that was all.” – Daenerys VIII ADWD

This willingness to self sacrifice that Dany has is tied not only to the fact that she cares about people, but also to the fact that she sees taking care of her people and protecting them as her duty as queen. We can see, in several moments, how Dany is both self-sacrificing and dutiful, and how she is constantly being self critical and reminding herself of her duties as a queen:

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”

“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice … that’s what kings are for.” - Daenerys III ASOS

Dany would gladly have sent the rest of the petitioners away … but she was still their queen, so she heard them out and did her best to give them justice. - Daenerys III ADWD

“Your Grace could not have known—”

“I am the queen. It was my place to know.” - Daenerys V ADWD

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people. - Daenerys V ADWD

“A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” - Daenerys VI ADWD

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself. - Daenerys IX ADWD

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. Drogon had bent before the whip, and so must she. She had to don her crown again and return to her ebon bench and the arms of her noble husband. - Daenerys X ADWD

So yeah. I probably forgot something but... I really truly with everything inside me love the fuck out of her. 

it’s time for a sleepover!

[chrysalispen]

a very rough bit of sappiness from a WIP i have on the back burner, just so y’all know i’m not dead LMAO

====

Standing frozen before her bedchamber door all but vibrating with anxiety, trying not to grab handfuls of the Doman dressing robe that had been a nameday gift to herself last year, Aurelia found herself wondering what in all the seven hells she was thinking.

While still a student at the Valetudinarium she had attended a bridal shower for a young woman whose mother had been a friend of her aunt's. The majority of the gifts bestowed upon the bride had been of the practical variety, but she recalled in particular one carefully wrapped box passed amidst the flurry of gifts and foods and the nigh-unending flow of Dalmascan merlot. It had come with a knowing wink and a "to be shared with your husband." 

That message had been as cryptic to her as an Allagan hieroglyphic, until the moment the box’s lid had been removed and a chorus of piercing shrieks had erupted in scandalized delight at its contents: a sheer lacy black corset and a matching scrap of fabric that barely qualified as smallclothes.

A maid of seventeen winters not long in the capitol, she had never seen its like before. Her shocked reaction had prompted a fresh wave of laughter and not a few mutters about "rustic sensibilities" as the giggling bride placed the box on the hearth along with the piles of other gifts. She still recalled her own wide-eyed stare and the embarrassed heat in her cheeks, as she'd caught sight of both in the reflection of the mantelpiece mirror.

Over ten years later, peering into a hallway mirror to view the results of painstaking preparation, she felt the same distressing sense of acute self-consciousness. This set covered far more skin than that remembered bridal gift, but the delicate-looking straps of the garter belt supporting her thigh-high silk stockings somehow seemed every bit as salacious as that bare scrap of cloth. They peeked slyly beneath the hem of her robe like a half-revealed secret, no matter how snugly she wrapped it about herself for some semblance of modesty.

She was, if she were entirely honest, about two seconds away from hiding in her closet for the rest of the night.

Oh, for the gods' swiving sake, Laskaris, you can face a bleeding legatus on the battlefield but you can't be seen in some frivolous Thavnarian frippery? Gird your loins - with that ridiculous robe if it please you - and get on with it.

Unclenching her fists, Aurelia quickly opened the door- and paused, lingering small and shy and hesitant at the threshold. Nero still sat in her chair at the writing desk where she kept her journals, awaiting her return. His normally straight and exacting posture was a relaxed forward slouch, the laces of his fine shirt loose and open, chin braced upon his knuckles and his elbow upon the desk's well-worn surface. 

She could follow that characteristically hawkish gaze of his through the gap in the gauzy curtains of her bedroom window to their idle contemplation of the night sky beyond, if she cared to do so. She might have done in truth, were she not so charmed by the look of him in the moonlight, strangely serene and for once quite untroubled by the workings of the world.

A peasant's face, her aunt would have sniffed: its features were what the aristocratic sensibilities of the capitol would call ‘coarse.’ Broad and strong and quite often haggard- although as he sat lost in whatever thoughts held his attention in that moment, the angles and lines of his face were nearly smooth, and the watery light lent an almost dreamlike cast to high cheekbones and strong nose and square jaw. Even his ever-present shadow of a beard seemed lovely to her eyes. It gleamed in soft shades of aurum and auburn upon alabaster, deliberate suggestions of a painter's sponge upon a canvas. 

No matter the time of day, it was a face she privately loved to look upon, especially when he seemed to be happy- or, at the very least, content. She wasn’t all that certain she had ever seen him genuinely happy, and the thought was both saddening and sobering. 

But, she thought, it was accurate. Nero was possessed of a quick mind, a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. He was also an intensely private man - as secretive about his true self as he was his personal junkets - and so unguarded instances like this one were so few and far between that she had learned to appreciate them. He’d notice her silent perusal quickly enough, of course; he would let fly some witticism or other and she would respond in kind. This soft window would fall shut before her eyes like all the others and perhaps it might resurface at some later date and perhaps it would not. 

It was all very predictable- and probably, Aurelia thought, also for the best. She feared these moments as much as she cherished them, for she was always afforded the briefest glimpses of a man she knew it would be possible to love were he ever to allow it.

And were you ever possessed of sufficient courage to wish for it.

--but tonight was not the night for such somber considerations. She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.

The sound of the falling latch at her back wrested his attention away from the window, and the moon's spell was broken. 

Even so, he nearly returned to his quiet contemplation for all of a brace of seconds before her sigh caused him to snap sharply upright in his seat, startling at her presence in a double take that might have been comical were the entire situation not so nerve-wracking.

She offered an uncertain smile, arms still folded over her chest. "Did I interrupt?"

"Not at all. You were on that call for quite some time." She didn't have to see his smirk to know it was there; she heard it in the teasing note of his voice. He was humoring her, knew she was dancing around some subject or other, simply wasn't sure what or why. "I was half-minded to send a search party."

She was very aware of the thin silk of her robe's hem whispering against flesh, perhaps an ilm or two higher than the lacy tops of the hosiery. The straps on her thighs and the metal clasps that braced her stockings would be visible the moment she stepped into the golden corona of light cast upon the floor by her lamp.

Anxiety nearly overwhelmed her again and she froze in place, uncertain how to proceed.

"I-..." Her mouth felt as dry as the dunes of the Sagolii. "Yes, I suppose I was. I..."

She made her slow approach on near-silent feet, hands clutching at her silk: staring at the floor, at the window, at the wall, anywhere but his face. Above all, she was afraid to see the sardonic amusement that must surely be writ large in his eyes. She knew she could not possibly be the least bit enticing, stammering and sweating mess that she was. She didn't need the reminder.

She drew up short when her shin struck the lip of the chair.

He'd shifted his knees, spreading them apart to allow her space. One of his hands settled over one of her white-knuckled fists where it grasped a handful of silk and curled so tightly into the weave that her fingernails had distended the fabric (a distant part of her mind fretted over it; she'd probably ruined the godsdamned thing).

"....I had something to give you," she began. With a deft touch his fingers wound into the curl of her grip as if it were a piece of malfunctioning machinery and gently divested it of the silk she'd clutched. "It's... it's a surprise, so..."

"Not the robe, I assume."

There it was again, that smile in his voice, the one that put her in mind of a cat playing with a mouse it had caught. She paused, an idea blossoming to life in the back of her mind.

"No, not the robe. It's- actually, can I borrow your hands for a moment-... oh hells." She'd caught the unintentional innuendo a moment too late to take it back, and as if on cue, she saw the white flash of that toothy grin in the heartbeat before Nero began to cackle. "Damn it, no! I meant-"

He was openly laughing now. His hands had dropped to brace her hips, squeezing affectionately through thin silk.

Aurelia was so annoyed at her own clumsiness that she quite forgot her anxiety, and released a loud and irritable sigh, her posture drooping with disappointment like a wilting flower. "This was not my intention, I shall have you know."

"I am quite aware. Were you attempting to seduce me? Gods know I'm flattered, I'm just trying to figure out why the deuce you're acting like a bride on her wedding night." Playfully he tugged at the now quite rumbled panel over one of her breasts. "Are you naked under there or are you hiding contraband? Is that it? Diamonds? The imperial crown? A very small basket of coeurl kittens?"

Hells below, now she was laughing, hard enough to make her legs wobble. The whole mishap was too bloody ridiculous not to find humor in it.

"I'll keep guessing if you don't tell me," he warned. She swatted at his fingers, tried to scowl, ruined the effect by shrieking with laughter when he began to tickle her sides. "Is this some sort of extremely specific roleplay? Am I meant to be punishing you for a smuggling infraction-"

"Smuggling infraction," she chortled, gasping with laughter, "Scaeva, you pillock-"

"Oh, Tribunus, I've been a very naughty girl," he trilled, "perhaps if you would let me go I might show you the kitten in my pocket-"

She took the opportunity to attack his sides, cackled when he yelped and tried to grab her wrists. They mock-wrestled for a handful of moments, until her legs gave out beneath the force of her own mirth. Nero caught her as she pitched forward and buried her face against his chest, howling with the absurdity of it all.

It felt good, cathartic even, and all her low-level terror vanished.

Mutual accord came about when each abandoned their efforts in turn. Aurelia sat upright to see the other Garlean smiling at her, his hair already tousled, still chuckling.

"Contraband," she scoffed aloud. "Honestly, this robe barely covers my arse let alone aught of substance."

Put at her ease and amused by the night's misadventure despite herself, Aurelia paid little heed to the fact of her modest weight seated astride his long legs- until the friction of warm, rough palms skimming over the tops of her stockings served as a sudden reminder. The lower hem of her robe had slipped out of place during their tussle; the Doman silk sat bunched nearly at her waist, leaving her thighs exposed to his perusal.

Deft fingers continued their lazy exploration, pausing just long enough to catch in the garter belt's suspenders and give each ribbon a cheeky little tug, until their owner was bestowed with two generous handfuls of backside, neatly wrapped in soft lace and satin.

He gave a slow and experimental squeeze, and any retort she might have made died upon her lips before it could form.

"Contraband," the one-word observation was delivered with such a deadpan blandness that it would have been simplicity itself to miss the avaricious gleam in his eyes. His smile had turned from playful to wickedly speculative.

A soft laugh, this one ever so slightly tremulous, spilled forth from her throat - not nervousness, but anticipation.

His hands gave her rear another squeeze before retreating: calloused fingers tracing patterns in the lace and dragging against plush smoothness, coming to rest upon the tops of her thighs. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears. His eyes were the color of a clear Coerthan sky, wintry and bright.

"May I?" He leaned forward until he was close enough to rest his head against hers, the soft heat of his breath whispering against her cheekbone. She could feel the slight indent in her skin: his third eye pressed carefully against the smooth ridge of her brow. It was a gesture as intimate as any kiss. At length, she was able to whisper: “I was rather hoping you would.”

[timedriving]

rip/ donna

send me a ship and i’ll tell you… ( accepting )

who hogs the duvet i think it’s a fair bit of struggling that eventually ends in donna’s favour because... rip can’t win even if he tries. LMAO. he gives up after waking up for the third time that evening but donna looks so comfy he’s like... all right. this is fine. i’m content with this

who texts/rings to check how their day is going rip does check-ins more often, but donna’s more likely to text when she’s got something on her mind, random or otherwise. rip doesn’t really understand the concept of “random texting when you’re bored” and doesn’t want to suffocate her or anything

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts donna is better at intentional gifts, and rip does things that don’t SEEM like gifts to him, but totally are. an explanation of the latter is something along the lines of “rip taking donna on a surprise trip to go camping in arizona where they can look up at the stars and map out constellations together and also he made food and ALSO he’s got proper camping gear and he’s been thinking about this for weeks... what do you mean this is a date?”

who gets up first in the morning donna is probably one of the few people in the world who can wake up at the same hour as rip and not feel tired or grouchy at the godawful hour. this means rip gets to draw her in cotton candy sunrises and donna gets to show him the world she lives in before it all properly wakes up, and it makes the whole thing kind of ridiculously magic also, neither of them have to wait for the other to have breakfast together.

who suggests new things in bed donna! it’s not that rip’s not as enthusiastic, but more that physical intimacy in general is an adventure to him already. also, i imagine donna’s experience with society means that she gets a lot more inspiration for this sort of thing than rip would get at the vanishing point? the most kink he has is liking to blindfold his partners or bind them with simple ties. it’s donna who ends up suggesting her lasso, for one thing

who cries at movies do..nna...?? between the two of them her empathy’s developed a lot more than rip’s has. but his interactions with her and the films they end up watching together do help him build his own empathy! i like to think the first movie he properly cries at the end at is the matrix revolutions. i don’t know why i imagined them watching the matrix revolutions. anyway it astounds him to think neo could love machines so much he gives his life to save them just as he saves humanity (rip related more to the machines in this case, too.........)

who gives unprompted massages i keep answering donna for these things, but rip doesn’t really know that this is a thing! he’ll comes back from an assignment tense because it’d been a close call, and then she’ll kiss the back of his neck whilst he sits down and work his shoulders and rip kind of just melts under her touch (but, let’s be real, he melts around her all the time because he’s so smitten-- this is just his body finally matching up with his mind)

who fusses over the other when they’re sick i don’t think donna gets sick very often? and while she takes care of rip it’s not necessarily fussing either, but a bit more-- she knows what she’s doing, having come from a place where caring for each other is the common mantra, and he feels kind of ridiculous having someone be so tender and kind with him, but he really does feel like he’s cared for (a rare sensation overall)

who gets jealous easiest FINALLY i am answering rip. but rip’s got a big of possessive canine instinct going on, all fang-bearing and whatever if donna’s ever being threatened. he doesn’t care about playful flirting with, like, friends or anything, but strangers out in the open better WATCH OUT... not that rip’s the type to beat up strangers but. he’ll think about it. he’ll think about it hard until donna’s the one who shoots them down. and then seeing her shoot them down will make rip want to pull her aside and kiss her because he uh. he sucks

who has the most embarrassing taste in music rip doesn’t have a taste in music? but i can’t imagine donna’s to be EMBARRASSING to him... if anything he’ll be awed with whatever her music tastes are because. you listen to these things for pleasure? you enjoy them? i enjoy them because you enjoy them. these lyrics sure are something. it’s funny how i know what instruments are playing individually but i never thought they’d sound like this altogether the idea that donna introduces him to the music of the 90′s/00′s is really fucking sweet actually........... he only ever listened to music for stock knowledge, but it’d be wild to lie down with her and listen to something just for the sake of listening to music together

who collects something unusual rip isn’t allowed to own things at the vanishing point, so the fact he finds a home in donna means her room probably houses his postal stamp collection... and, okay, postal stamp collecting isn’t the SEXIEST hobby, but 1) it doesn’t take up much space; and 2) it’s rip’s gateway drug to collection/hoarding, anyway. she’s got the scrapbook he uses kept away in a drawer and sometimes rip makes his own stamps out of souvenirs he takes from his missions

who takes the longest to get ready donna, who really makes an effort! and rip with his minute attention to detail always notices when she has a new shade of eyeshadow or lipstick or something. he finds it genius how she can make her look change so much... on his own end, rip doesn’t know how to change his look. i figure in this stage of his life, he mostly defaults to shirts and jeans, so he’s pretty useless and basic. on the rare occasions that he wants to dress up nice for her, however, he will take forever... because he doesn’t know how to be handsome enough to deserve her, whyyyyyy

who is the most tidy and organised donna! but then, donna actually has stuff TO organise. rip, who owns nothing, wouldn’t have a clue if he did have something. all he knows is how to keep his living space at the vanishing point clean, but that’s like... the most basic of the basic things

who gets most excited about the holidays donna is really excited to share her traditions, and rip is excited to partake in them with her. he sheepishly tells her that he doesn’t have his own holidays; he doesn’t even know when his nameday is, so. (but she’ll insist they choose a date just so they can celebrate it, and he’s horrifically shy about it because... you want a day... just to celebrate him?)

who is the big spoon/little spoon OOOHHHH AN ANSWER WHERE I CAN SAY THEY’RE HAPPY BEING EITHER... rip has a bigger tendency to big spoon though because he likes the feeling of having his arms wrapped around her, but at this point in his life he’s not jaded or traumatised enough to be extremely touch averse, especially with the first love of his life i think donna has an innate sense of knowing when rip’s feeling especially drained and will tell him to lie down when she does, at which point she’ll come up behind him and hold him and rip will just sigh because donna thinks of everything... what a genius

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports oh god this is destructive shit. people get bored of watching them play ping-pong because it lasts FOREVER. and the thing is they’re both like, killer focused on it, so they’re not even hurling insults at each other or teasing or anything-- they’re both in it to win it and it’s a wonder donna hasn’t obliterated the ping-pong ball yet with her strength

who starts the most arguments i like to think that rip’s more likely to get angry about things, but not necessarily about them as a couple? it’s more like he’ll be more confrontational when they’re disrespected in public or something-- he’s got the temper of a leashed dog, again, and it’s not like his canines are weirdly pointed because he shouldn’t bite for all their youth i think they’re both old souls who know too well about understanding to start any stupid arguments. imagine having a healthy honest relationship wow

who suggests that they buy a pet i think rip mentions it kind of off-handedly and donna laughs like “why?” and rip’s reasoning is just, like, he’ll see other couples walk a dog together... maybe it’d be nice if they walked a dog together, too and it’s the softest thing on the planet, but they aren’t together enough to warrant owning a dog together, so they don’t end up getting one it’s nice to imagine, though

what couple traditions they have they seem the type to have a secret handshake from when they were still just friends? which was actually a secret handshake that adult!rip had taught kid!donna when they first met years ago, in a sort of time loop sort of thing because young adult!donna ends up teaching it to young adult!rip... you know, one of those “perfect circle” things. the only difference now is that the handshake ends with a kiss

what tv shows they watch together i think donna makes an effort to find shows that rip would find genuine interest in, since he so rarely has time to be around and she wants to make the most of it? but they have a nice mix of humour and romcom and action/adventure... she’ll discover that rip really, really likes westerns, too, and rip will be surprised that that’s a whole GENRE, holy shit?? where can they see MORE of that????? i want them to watch the nanny though.........

what other couple they hang out with god the thought of a dickkory + ripdonna double date is actually really cool to me? kori’ll take him flying and rip’s going to be like ACK and dick’s all jokingly like “you’re dating a serious nerd, donna” and she’s just. she knows. she knows... but he’s the sweetest man she’s ever met and yes, grayson, that means he’s sweeter than you! rip’s going to be just as good at darts as dick though and dick’s going to be like DUDE... FOR REAL?

how they spend time together as a couple it’s suuuuuper gross, but they! like! touching! and not even, like, dirty touching, but holding hands is pretty usual for them, and so is dropping kisses here and there, even if it’s not going to start anything. it’s a serious cliche puppy love sort of thing?? like rip will like keeping his arm around her, too, and donna will like having her head in his lap, and for indoor hobbies especially, they can do separate things (e.g. donna watching a movie and rip reading a book) but still be connected in this way if rip had his way he would be able to be around her all the time, too

who made the first move rip does, but it’s not like... outwardly flirtatious or anything (he’s useless!). he just, y’know, drops compliments here and there... looks a bit shy when he does it... and donna’s no idiot, she knows he likes her, and eventually grins and calls him out on it and rip’s like “I DON’T-- yeah okay i do want very much to take you out to dinner, can i?” and donna’s laughing at how sheepish he is and kissing him on the cheek like “yes, rip” and rip’s like “REALLY? i mean, erm-- outstanding! that’s outstanding, yeah”

who brings flowers home rip will come home from long assignments with gifts, ok! and sometimes those gifts include flowers. he studies flower language in his free time so he can do it properly for her, but i think with them real flowers aren’t so important... so rip will give origami bouquets

who is the best cook rip knows how to cook more things with expertise because of his job, but i think overall he prefers donna’s cooking. there’s something so kind and warm about eating food made by someone who cares for you... that being said, he likes to cook for her, too, and for all his gourmet knowledge he still just makes simple things, because i imagine donna the type to see the value of comfort food and for rip to have the same sentiments

[madamedeher]

No pressure

Cullen and Trevelyan fight to release something unspoken. What happens when that becomes not enough? a.k.a the one where everyone knows but the couple.

Maybe it's just me, but I almost never see fics of Cullen pining. I thought it'd be interesting to explore that. Also I'll be loosely messing with the canon in this story. Nothing too story shattering, just a few tweaks you might notice. If you'd like, you can go to my oc page on here and see what I envisioned Maxwell to look like. (Spoiler: he's based off my own inq lmao) just go to the oc page and Andrew Trevelyan is who I described :)

Also this is on AO3! I’m a bit paranoid with the link purge but my profile is /users/ordinarycrayons :)

Come two weeks, it will have been one year since the inquisition had been formed. Cassandra tried to argue that the inquisition was official once Trevelyan accepted his role, but he thought it was too self righteous to agree to that date.

Varric, Trevelyan’s self claimed “closest dwarf” was now standing in front of Cullen’s desk, a knowing gleam to his eye and a smirk ever present on his face.

“All I’m saying is you’re invited.”

Cullen sighed lightly. Varric has decided to celebrate the first nameday of the inquisition by holding a grand game of cards. Apparently everyone in the inner circle will be there, and then some.

“Plus,” Varric leaned in a little, smugness on his face ever present.

“Max is definitely coming.”

Cullen couldn’t help but bristle. He never thought of himself to splay his emotions out on a platter, but even before Haven’s collapse Varric took it upon himself to tease the commander for his one sided infatuation for the Inquisitor.

“Like I have told you, I will probably be busy. Thank you. I will send Maxw— the Inquisitor my regards.”

“Whatever you say, Curly. If you manage to unglue yourself from your desk, invitation’s always open.”

Varric turned on his heels out Cullen’s office and once Varric was out the room, Cullen let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.

Maxwell Trevelyan was not an enigmatic man. He wore his heart on his sleeve, heaving his opinions like he does his broadsword. He seemed to have a permanent tan to his already brown skin and dark freckles that dusted his face, accentuating an innocence that wasn’t exactly there.

Cullen would often daydream about those freckles. They complimented dimples and round cheeks, making Trevelyan look much younger than he actually was. The amount of teasing they both got when it was found out Trevelyan was the same age as Cullen still makes the blond burn in embarrassment.

His thoughts on the leader had shifted recently. What it had shifted to, though, Cullen still does not know.

Trevelyan has never called Cullen by his name, always some form of Commander. In turn, Cullen always tried to make it a point to call him the Inquisitor. Even if Cullen finds himself saying it offhand to himself, noting how easy it slides off his tongue, how it would be so gratifying to have Trevelyan grab him and make him say his name over and over and— Maker.

The Inquisitor had been gone for two weeks, something about peace talks in Orlais. He’d be back by the morning, no doubt irritable from dealing with stuck up nobles day in and day out. Cullen very much looked forward to seeing him again, much to his chagrin.

Cullen stood from his desk and paced for a moment. A slow throbbing was approaching from behind his eyes, a sign that his body was getting too tired to go on without pain.

That night, Cullen touched himself, spilling Maxwell from his lips.

He didn’t have feelings for Trevelyan, oh no. Simple infatuation. Forbidden fruit. Nothing real there, whatsoever. Truly. Hopefully.

+++

As predicted, Trevelyan was back in Skyhold by dawn. Josephine was on him the moment he stepped into the fortress, asking about how it went, who he impressed, who he more importantly pissed off. Vivienne, who attended the talks, stepped in to answer. Maxwell was brooding the moment they left Orlais and was not in the mind to answer her questions.

A random Orlesian had mentioned his father, how he was a noble who fell from grace by scandal. That scandal, being him and a servant creating Trevelyan’s half sister. Great stuff for Trevelyan’s psyche to go over several, several times.

His legs walked for him at that point. His target, Commander Cullen’s office. He knew the commander wouldn't be asleep right now, as many times as they've done this.

Something of a ritual had formed between the two. When one was upset, they would invite the other to spar. Neither has ever declined the other and it proved to be therapeutic in some primal way.

With a hard knock, Trevelyan announced himself outside the office and walked in. Unsurprisingly, Cullen was hunched over his desk, though he was still dressed in casual clothing, his armor sitting well placed next to him.

Looking up, Cullen acknowledged him.

“Good morning, Inquisitor.”

Then, the ritual begins.

Trevelyan would comment on the time of day.

“Morning, commander. Up early today I see.”

Cullen would make a comment on his work load.

“Yes, I have much to do.”

Trevelyan would proposition.

“Don’t you need a break, Commander?”

And Cullen would fall for it.

“I suppose I do. Meet you by the usual place?”

The, “usual place” was near the southern entrance of Skyhold, where only some immigrants and the merchant would see them. They use to practice by the tavern, but they eventually gained an audience. Trevelyan didn’t mind, but Cullen drew the line when he overheard Iron Bull and Dorian wondering if who wins the spar means who takes the other that night.

He didn’t tell Trevelyan the exact reason why he wanted to move, citing the noise of the crowd was distracting and if Trevelyan suspected another reason, he didn’t show it. Since then, they fought in their place. Truthfully, Cullen has several places mapped if they gained a crowd once again.

Trevelyan waited patiently by their spot. He took it upon himself to grab their usual weapons. Cullen relied on a rather large wooden shield and right handed sword. Trevelyan had his two-handed broadsword tucked into his elbow, leaning on it as he waited. Both weapons were old and dull, only able to do real damage if using blunt force.

Cullen bounded towards him ten minutes later. His lion helm was left behind, but his usual armor was donned. Trevelyan wore similar armor, though his was less stylized.

“Commander.” Trevelyan handed Cullen his sword and shield, a half smile on his face.

Cullen’s heart thumped in his chest. Their sparring use to be simple, he played as it was. But when his feelings deepened into whatever they were, their dueling fueled more. An itch he couldn’t scratch was the only way he could describe it.

He watched as Trevelyan oriented himself with the sword. It was a tad smaller than his actual battle weapon, with the hilt being a thinner leather than usual as well.

“Ready, Inquisitor?”

“Always, Commander.”

No matter what, it felt like the world disappeared when they did this. In Cullen’s mind, it was just them in this moment. No Inquisition, no reports, no worry. Just them.

The pair rounded themselves, facing the other. Cullen noted how even though Trevelyan’s brown eyes looked very tired, he still managed to create a spark behind them.

Trevelyan was the first to move, stepping to Cullen’s right side, swinging his sword. It was a test, as Trevelyan never actually made his swing come all the way down to hit Cullen’s shield. The pair locked eyes again and Trevelyan let out a breathy laugh.

“Did not expect cold feet from you, Inquisitor.”

“Simply gauging my prey.”

Prey. Cullen let out an incredulous noise and suddenly charged with his shield, catching Trevelyan off guard and knocking him back with a loud oof.

Trevelyan recovered quickly, but not before Cullen got a good jab at his rib, causing the other to groan in pain. With a well placed turn, Trevelyan brought his foot up and kicked Cullen’s shield towards the left, stuttering the commander’s reflex and bringing down a harder than intended swing to Cullen’s side. It made the commander make his own noise of pain and he gripped his side as best he could.

He knew there would be a big purple bruise there in a few hours. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Trevelyan came at him again, his sword menacingly in front of him. Cullen blocked last minute with his shield and pushed back, staggering the man for a moment. Cullen did his best to round his own sword back to the other, but it was successfully blocked by the left metal bracer Trevelyan wore. Not missing a beat, Trevelyan awkwardly switched his sword to his non dominant right hand and clumsily hit the bottom of Cullen’s thigh.

Cullen reminded himself to warn the Inquisitor about learning to be ambidextrous with his weapons. Two-handed weapons tend to spoil those wielding them.

They pushed off each other, both slightly out of breath. Mirroring the other, they both stepped towards each other and arched their swords, the swords hitting each other with a loud metallic pang. Trevelyan pushed against Cullen and the commander pushed back, deadlocking the two into a power struggle. Cullen was close enough to Trevelyan’s face he could count the freckles on his nose. He got to twenty before a voice cleared from behind him.

Trevelyan was the first to back off and an innocent grin spread on his face.

“Are you two playing nice?”

Morrigan. Cullen whipped around and put his hands to his sides. He felt as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I always play nice. What isn’t nice is watching people without their knowledge.”

There was no bite to Trevelyan’s scolding.

“Oh, but I am not a nice woman. Is it a crime to watch two attractive men beat each other with sticks?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you thought I was handsome.”

“Tis’ not a secret, Maxwell. I am not the shy type.”

Before Cullen knew it, he realized the pair were… flirting?

A knot of jealousy settled in Cullen’s stomach. It made him feel hotly ashamed and a bit nauseous. He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

Trevelyan mistakenly thought it to be lyrium withdrawal pain and placed a comforting hand on Cullen’s shoulder. It made his heart beat even harder.

“As much as I enjoy this chatter, is there truly something you needed?”

When Cullen opened his eyes, he found Morrigan transfixed on him. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare.

“I was hoping to discuss The Winter Palace with you.”

Her gaze shifted between the two and settled on Cullen again, her face looking more knowing than before.

“That is, if you two are quite finished.”

Trevelyan straightened and stuck his sword into the ground. Clapping a hand on Cullen’s back, he smiled warmly at him and stepped towards Morrigan.

“I guess we’ll have to finish this later. See you later, Commander.”

Cullen watched Trevelyan and Morrigan walk off together. They started their light flirting again from what Cullen could tell and the weight in his stomach seemed to have snaked up to his chest, constricting his heart. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, willing the emotions to fade away. Cullen made it a point to himself to get over this crush effective immediately.

“Oh, and Commander,”

Morrigan’s voice rang out again, though she was much farther away. Cullen sheepishly looked up from his brooding thoughts.

“Shall I remind you I am not the villain here?”

Trevelyan looked between the two, settling on raising his eyebrows at Cullen. Although Trevelyan didn’t really know what Morrigan was talking about, he was surprised to see a bashful look on Cullen’s face.

+++

Cullen has not spoken to the Inquisitor since they’re last sparring. He’s not quite sure if he appreciates or hates that fact.

It’s easier to forget about his situation with Trevelyan this way, even if he misses him. Besides, it isn’t as if he is purposely avoiding the other. Trevelyan has made no attempt to talk to him. Although, that fact stings, so Cullen tries to forget that as well.

Varric’s celebration is tonight. Cullen made no plans to go up until earlier today. After a rather tedious war meeting, Leliana stopped Cullen to talk to him alone in the hallway out. Once again, Trevelyan made no attempt to talk to him and it grated on his nerves more than it should have. Them standing in the cramped space between the main hall and Josephine’s office did not help his growing nerves.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Cullen’s voice sounded strained even to his own ears, causing him to briefly wince.

“You are going to the celebration tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You think I do not know of what is going on between you and the inquisitor?”

Cullen blinked and felt the tip of ears grow hot.

“I do not know what—”

“Do not lie to me, Commander.”

“...there is nothing unprofessional between me and the Inquisitor. I say that truly.”

Leliana’s eyes were piercing, as if she was trying to read his mind. Cullen would never admit he wouldn’t be surprised if she could.

“That is precisely the problem.”

Cullen stepped back and hit his back against the brick wall. He’s sure if he saw his face it would show a look of complete and utter confusion. “Are you suggesting me and the Inquisitor start some illicit affair?”

“If I thought it would just be a some dirty affair, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Then I am at a loss as to what you are suggesting.”

The woman shifted her weight to her left foot and crossed her arms. A ghost of a smirk was on her face.

“I know love when I see it, Commander. It is something to be cherished. The Maker made us this way to embrace love, not run away from it. Do you not understand that?”

Cullen’s heart started thudding against his chest and he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t meet Leliana’s eyes even if he wanted to.

“It is not mutual.”

The smirk widened on Leliana’s face. “Because you have been rejected, or because you refuse to consider it’s possibility?”

Cullen had no answer. He had not even entertained the thought that the Inquisitor might feel the same way. Trevelyan had made no moves, had he? Belatedly, Cullen realized he and the Inquisitor spent the most time together out of everyone in the inner circle. Trevelyan is the one whom Cullen bared his deepest struggles to, and Trevelyan was the only one to take the time to comfort him, tell him how proud he was of Cullen. While Cullen wasn’t as eloquent as Trevelyan when it came to praise and feelings, when he did do the same to Trevelyan he could swear he saw a blush come to the warrior’s cheeks. It all came naturally, and Cullen kicked himself for being so hung up on their names.

Leliana spoke again. “Are you coming to the celebration?”

Cullen steadied himself on his sword, gripping the handle hard. He tried not to get his hopes up.

“Yes.”

+++

The tavern was bustling. It seemed as though everyone in skyhold had stuffed themselves in there, from the chargers drunkenly guarding their corner of the bottom floor to even Vivienne chatting idly to Dorian and Solas, all three drinking some expensive wine Varric managed to get his hands on.

Trevelyan was drinking a tankard of beer with Blackwall, Cassandra, and Varric. Their conversation devolved the more the night went on. While he didn’t drink that much, Trevelyan saw his companions get more and more inebriated. By the time Varric managed to round up the inner circle for their wicked grace game, Sera was asleep on the floor and Bull was so loud it was starting to make Trevelyan’s ears ring.

“And THEN, and then, oh shit boss you’re gonna love this one, and then he went, ‘But I barely knew her!’” The table erupted in incredulous laughter and a solid eye roll from Cassandra. Trevelyan tried to hide his laugh behind his drink, clapping Bull on the back for his story. Naturally, the conversations went on. His hand in the card game wasn’t great, but he didn’t really mind. It felt good to celebrate something amongst the string of tragedies he has to deal with.

Varric sat next to him, the two occasionally sizing each other up. Josephine was the best at the game, but Varric could bluff like nobody’s business. It gave Trevelyan a sense of confidence being around him when playing wicked grace. It wasn’t until he jabbed Trevelyan in the ribs with his elbow did he get his head out of the game. He nodded his head towards the entrance of the tavern and Trevelyan’s eyes landed on the blond that was making his way through the door.

Cullen walked towards the table but stopped just short of it. Varric stood up and waved the commander over.

“Glad you made it Curly, saved a seat for you.”

Trevelyan looked wide eyed at Varric who shot back a wink. He went off to drag another chair to the table, leaving Cullen to sit down next to the inquisitor.

Cullen’s entrance didn’t stop the flow of conversation, but Leliana, who was leaning against one of the support beams in the tavern threw Cullen a look. She turned to whisper something to Cassandra who was some steps away. Cassandra not so subtly glanced at the pair with raised eyebrows. Both Cullen and Trevelyan looked elsewhere to avoid the questioning eyes.

“I… guess I have arrived too late for the game.”

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty more rounds. Lest we forget your last game.”

Cullen smiled at Trevelyan despite the embarrassing memory. “Ah, I do not plan on losing my clothing tonight, though.”

Trevelyan perked up at Cullen with newfound confidence. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Something told Cullen they might not be talking about the game anymore and he looked away shyly. He never knew what to do in these situations. Especially since this is the first time in many years he wanted their affections in the first place.

“S-so, uh, I feel as though we have not seen each other in a while.”

Trevelyan deflated at that and Cullen recoiled slightly wondering if he said the wrong thing. Thankfully, Trevelyan continued on the conversation. “Why is it always I who seeks you out? You’re free to come to me for a change, you know.”

A hardened tone took over Trevelyan but he still tried to mask it with a forced lightness. Cullen felt the guilt wash over in a wave. He had never thought about that. For the past year, it had always been Trevelyan who progressed their friendship. It hit Cullen that even if he had feelings for Cullen, Cullen was not showing any signs himself that it could go anywhere. Tonight felt like it was a turning point in their friendship— or what it could be.

“I came tonight. I… hope that is a sufficient start.”

“You act as if you came to the party only for me.”

It was invitation to go further, Cullen saw it clear as day. Trevelyan was baiting him to go farther, and he knew he would always go for his game.

Cullen acknowledged him.

“Perhaps… perhaps I did.”

Trevelyan craned his seat to look out a window at the far side of the wall to their left.

“It’s getting quite late, Cullen.”

Cullen’s eyes widened and he could feel his pulse thud in his ears. He wanted to ask Trevelyan to say his name again, over and over. It was by far the only sound Cullen wanted to hear from then on. He had half a mind to ask him to say it again before he remembered what he was doing.

“Yes, I finished my reports early.”

Trevelyan prepositioned.

“Well, I’m sure you deserve a long break.”

And Cullen falls for it. Every time.

“What do you suggest we do, Maxwell?”

The grin that split onto Trevelyan’s face was unfiltered excitement and it made Cullen mirror one of his own.

“Walk me to my quarters? It is just so late.”

“Of course, dear inquisitor.”

+++

Cullen had never been in Maxwell’s quarter’s since it was being built in the first place. It awed him how much of Maxwell emanated from the room since he last saw it. The Orlesian linens had been replaced by woolly blankets and fluffy pillows that looked perfect for winter. The couch, desk, and bookshelves were all the same but had been covered by different memorabilia Maxwell had collected over the past many months. His desk especially was cluttered with dozens of half written missives and reports. Cullen wonders how he manages to get anything done with the mess in the way. Incense sits in the air as well, a mix of cherrywood and lavender. It relaxed both of them greatly.

Behind him Maxwell stokes a fire he lit. It was late fall and a chill had comfortably settled over skyhold.

When the fire seemed to be going full force Maxwell stood. He and Cullen shared a brief moment of eye content before they both looked away nervously. Maxwell admittedly didn't think this far into this, considering he didn’t even think Cullen would accept the offer to walk him to his room.

“I like your quarters.” Cullen blurted out after a beat of awkward silence.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I now know why you smell so good.” He faltered at the tail end of that sentence. Cullen inwardly smacked himself. You smell so good? Maker, Cullen, you’re bad at this.

Maxwell laughed behind his hand, “Thank you. I’m glad my… smell? Pleases you.”

Cullen hoped his face didn’t seem to red, but just in case he looked down at his boots to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

Maxwell walked towards an empty loveseat that was in the corner of his room and pushed it towards the fire that crackled noisily. He sat down casually and patted the spot next to him, beckoning Cullen who obliged readily.

“I’m glad you agreed to come with me to my quarters. I’ve… admittedly missed you. And I’ve been wanting to speak about something.”

This time it was Maxwell looking down at his feet. Cullen wanted to reach out and hug him.

“What did you want to speak of?”

Maxwell took a deep breath and looked up, but not at Cullen. “Cullen, I care for you, more than what I’ve let on and I—” He shook his head and tried to gather his words.

“I don’t— I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just want to know if you could care for me as I care for you.”

Cullen felt his mouth dry and he swallowed thickly. He tried to bring up words but nothing seemed to do justice.

“I could. I-I mean I do. I’ve… often wondered what I might say in this situation.” Cullen’s voice wavered a tad but he continued, “I didn’t think it was possible for there to be something, much less admit to it.”

“Now that it is possible, what do you intend to do?”

Maxwell was looking at Cullen now, the pair meeting each other’s eyes. Cullen shifted closer to Maxwell and started to slowly lean into the other’s space, closing his eyes and hoping he’s met with what he wants.

With a sharp intake of breath, Maxwell met Cullen halfway and kissed him.

Cullen had imagined this a dozen times, in a dozen different ways. He knows it’s cliche to say it is like no other, but he can not remember a time where something as simple as a kiss filled him such an indescribable joy.

They seperated momentarily, looking into each other’s eyes with a newfound ferocity. Cullen grabbed Maxwell by his collar and pulled him back into the kiss, their mouths naturally falling open to explore the other. Maxwell tangled his left hand into Cullen’s hair and moved to straddle his lap, his other hand finding itself on the other’s waist.

It stirred something familiarly warm deep in Cullen’s belly, causing him to involuntarily moan. He could feel Maxwell smile into the kiss and it caused him to smile back, effectively ruining the kiss they had going. It devolved into a fit of shy giggles and chaste face kisses between the two.

“I can’t remember the last time I was into another man’s lap.”

Cullen pressed several kisses along Maxwell’s jaw and neck, causing the other to crane his neck back for better access. A passing thought wished Cullen would divulge in as many love bites as he could.

“If I get what I want, I’ll be the last lap you’re in.”

Maxwell meant to softly put their foreheads together but misjudged the force of it and thonked their heads together, causing another bout of breathy laughter.

“Whatever you want, I’ll grant it.”

Maxwell brought his hips closer to Cullen’s and ghosted contact. In retaliation Cullen settled his hands on Maxwell’s hips and brought them together himself, the hard grind bringing groans out of both of them.

Their lips connected again, the kiss hard and wet. They fell into a slow rhythm, grinding until they were both hard and desperate against each other.

“Grant me a spot on your bed?”

Maxwell smiled crookedly and stood, taking Cullen’s hand in his and leading him to the bed. They kissed on their way there, unbuckling and fastening each other’s clothing the best they could until they fell on the bed in their underclothes, never separating until both needed a breath. Carefully, Maxwell made his way from Cullen’s mouth down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his torso and taking a moment to lavish a nipple with teeth and tongue. It made Cullen’s breath hitch in his throat, stifling a kean that came with it.

Calloused hands made their way down Cullen’s soft thighs, tracing a map for Maxwell’s lips to follow. It was slightly ticklish, Maxwell’s plush lips mixed with his rough stubble rubbing against his thighs, it forced Maxwell to steady a hand against his stomach to keep him from squirming too much. With steady hands, Maxwell pulled off Cullen’s last bit of clothing and discarding his own in the process.

They stared at other, breathing heavily. Maxwell tried to drink up the sight in front of him as much as he could, while Cullen tried to commit to memory what it looks like to have one of the most powerful men in Thedas kneeling above him completely naked.

Without wasting another second Maxwell puts his lips to Cullen’s dick, kissing the head, then spreading them just enough to suckle at the tip. Cullen quietly gasped, swallowing hard. It had been years since anyone had touched him this way. He never thought he would find someone he trusted enough to take to bed, yet here he was, thanking Andraste and the maker himself for allowing him to climb into Maxwell’s space.

Maxwell got more bold as he worked, taking more of Cullen into his mouth. Cullen unconsciously thrusted into Maxwell’s slack mouth. He couldn’t very far, the arm that steadied him earlier was placed back on his stomach, restricting his movement. A frustrated groan escaped Cullen before he could catch it and caught Maxwell trying not to smile. The brunet pulled off and licked the precome that got on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

Cullen flustered and pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn’t trust himself not to say something completely embarrassing.

“Can… can I take you?”

That got Cullen’s attention. Maxwell had settled himself in between legs that Cullen didn’t know he could spread that far. Maxwell had clear sight of his hole and it made Cullen want to close his legs out of bashfulness, yet he relented on the thought.

“Y-yes. I… I don’t… I’ve never...” Cullen looked up at the ceiling, willing the Maker to not let him mess this up.

“It’s okay, we, um, we don’t have to.”

“No! I mean. No, I want to. I just... have never been taken. Please, I do want you.”

Maxwell flashed a warm smile then pressed a long kiss to Cullen’s lips.

“If anything becomes too much, you know to stop me right?”

Cullen nods and takes a deep breath. He lets his legs fall open as they were and watched Maxwell’s gaze fall from his face to between his legs. He knew his face and chest were flush red yet he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Maxwell reached over him to ruffle inside his nightstand for a small container. When opened, the smell of mint and earth filled the air and Cullen looked at Maxwell questioningly.

“Don’t ask why I have it, but it’s oil with a special root infused. Will help with comfort, helps relax muscles.” Maxwell dipped his fingers into it with a shrug. The liquid was even thicker than oil and the smell made Cullen’s nose tickle.

When Maxwell made first contact with Cullen’s hole, he circled his index fingers around the ring before pressing up to his first joint. Cullen tensed under him, not parsing the feeling very effectively. It was hard to describe, especially since Maxwell took this as an opportunity to start sucking his cock again. He sighed, but it turned into a breathy whimper. Maxwell finished pushing his first finger into Cullen, quickly doing the same thing with his middle finger. After a moment of adjustment, Maxwell pulled his fingers out only to slowly put them back in. It took everything in Maxwell not to fuck Cullen right there, the man above him spilling little mewls and begs the more he moved.

Maxwell didn’t have to explore the inside of Cullen for long before he found his spot, causing the blond to buck up into Maxwell’s mouth and choking his lover, making him sputter on his dick.

“Oh— oh Maker I’m sorry, so sorry.” Cullen slurred a little, hazy from the pleasure he was receiving but nonetheless felt bad for choking Maxwell. The other man shrugged and smiled, coughing a little.

“No need to apologize. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that a little.”

Cullen gasped and Maxwell chuckled lowly, pressing a small kiss to the top of Cullen’s thigh. He moved his fingers again over Cullen’s spot, making him moan and slam his eyes shut. Occasionally, Cullen would be able to find it himself when he fingered himself, but he was always too awkward to get the right angle. He wondered what else Maxwell would be able to tease out of him. The thought made him shudder.

“I think I’m ready, please, Maxwell,” Cullen pleaded, pulling at Maxwell’s arm to get him close. Maxwell obliged and settled above Cullen, but he didn’t expect Cullen to grab his cock and shakily stroke it, causing him to cry out. He ignored his own pleasure for the sake of Cullen and didn’t realize how desperate he was starting to get.

Swatting Cullen’s hand away, Maxwell lined himself up with Cullen, pressing the tip to him and slowly pressing in, causing both of them to moan. Maxwell hitched Cullen’s legs up to wrap around his waist, of which Cullen readily clung to.

Maxwell added more oil to where they joined and in a slow swoop put his cock to the hilt in Cullen. Cullen shook below him and Maxwell kissed all over his face, from his nose to his cheeks to his lips.

They stilled, letting Cullen adjust and Maxwell catch his breath. Cullen was... divine. Tight and warm, so soft and sweet under him. Somewhere dark in his mind wanted him to be like this more often, pliant and cute, wanting to be taken care of. Without thinking, Maxwell searched for Cullen’s hand, binding their fingers together to help anchor him. He left little kisses on Cullen’s neck, letting his free hand stroke Cullen’s side.

Cullen breathed heavily, feeling increasingly impatient in the stillness. “You… you can move…”

Not needing another cue, Maxwell experimentally rolled his hips, making Cullen grunt and seize. Another thrust, and another, and Maxwell falls into an easy rhythm. The thrusts weren’t particularly fast, but they were deep, causing Cullen to whimper everytime Maxwell bottomed out. Again, though, Cullen grew impatient and requested Maxwell go faster. He happily obliged, quickening his pace.

It was Maxwell’s turn to groan, the pleasure that coiled in his stomach making his shake. He buried his face into Cullen’s neck, tightening his grip on his hand and latched his lips on the tender skin, surely leaving a love bite for later. Cullen under him was alternating between moaning and catching his breath, the slap of skin ringing obscenely through the room. If the balcony doors had been opened even a fraction the couple would have surely been heard.

Maxwell was lost in the scene but caught himself enough to move to stroke Cullen’s cock. A low sob emanated from him, Maxwell not only stroking him but his thrusts brushing against his prostate. Cullen’s eyes were shut so hard he was starting to see stars behind his eyes and every thrust pushed out a chorus of ah ah ah.

Cullen’s free hand found its way into Maxwell’s hair, pulling hard and making Maxwell loudly whimper. Cullen foggily made sure that he would remember that for later.

Maxwell removed himself from Cullen’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Cullen took it upon himself to kiss Maxwell open mouth. The kiss was noisy and messy, neither of them having the right mind to fix it.

It wasn’t long before Cullen felt that telling coil in his belly. His toes curled and his mouth fell slack, his eyebrows furrowing and a long deep cry left his mouth. Hot strings of come covered both of their stomachs, Cullen shaking and bucking against Maxwell, his body not knowing whether he wanted to get closer or farther away from the thrusting.

Maxwell willed his eyes open to watch Cullen come undone, which only egged on his impending release. His pace quickened brutally, his thrusts getting out of rhythm. Cullen writhed and loudly whimpered, overstimulation getting the best of him.

Maxwell tried to bury his head in Cullen’s neck again but Cullen stopped him, pulling his hair again and keeping his face where it was so he could watch Maxwell cum. His eyes screwed shut and he yelled brokenly, spilling inside Cullen, his stroke only breaking when he couldn't physically go on.

The two of them breathed heavily, Maxwell falling on top of Cullen after a moment. Cullen felt like jelly under Maxwell, and urged for another kiss that Maxwell happily gave him. He pulled out after they pulled away, both of them shuddering at the loss of contact.

Taking it on himself, Maxwell cleaned them off with a wet cloth from his wash basin. He discarded of it and quickly made his way back to the bed, lavishing Cullen in little pecks on his face.

Maxwell was the first to speak. “Are you okay, honey?”

Cullen nodded and smiled lazily, tackling Maxwell onto his back and throwing a leg over his.

“I’m more than okay.” Cullen’s voice was listful and soft. The good feeling in his heart had shackled itself there.

“Are you staying here tonight?”

Cullen swallowed and looked at Maxwell. “May I?”

Maxwell grinned and snaked his arm around Cullen’s shoulder, grabbing on the blankets that were jostled off the bed and throwing it across the pair.

“I’d love nothing more.”

The fire made earlier was dying down but the blanket was warm enough between them. Nonetheless, Maxwell snuggled closer to Cullen, placing a kiss to his forehead.

For the first time since either of them joined the inquisition, they went to sleep without a worry.

+++

Josephine was tipsy and counting her winnings from wicked grace. She scanned the room but didn't see her desired person anywhere. "Has anyone seen the Inquisitor? He promised to have a drink with me after I won!"

Varric let out a hearty chuckle and Bull gave his own belting laugh.

"Haven't you noticed who else is missing, Josephine?" Bull's voice boomed and his tankard sloshed.

Josephine looked around again and noticed Commander Cullen was gone as well.

"Are they fighting again? At this time of night?"

Varric leaned into the table and raised his eyebrows.

"They're doing some sword fighting alright."

Bull laughed and Cassandra who caught the tail of that conversation sneered.

Josephine looked at Varric before it hit her. Oh. Oh.