#arya fic

[bisexualmultifandommess]

My favourite kind of Gendrya fic is either a reunion or post-reunion fic or a relationship reveal fic of any kind where Gendry and Arya obviously seem to know each other and Jon is just stood there watching them like:

[dr3adlady]

❄️💠Winter Roses💠❄️

[alwaysdaenerys]

our great glory

Chapter 32: Jon VIII

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

A/N - Not gonna lie yall, I’m more productive with this story on Wattpad 😭😭 I think I might stick with posting on there instead. The chapters I’ve posted here have been slightly changed there too. I’ll put the link of it below.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/367425499?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=lovebaela

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rhaella is the daughter of Mad King Aerys’ younger brother. Before the rebellion of Robert Baratheon, he fled to the Summer Isles, where he fell in love with a woman. He married her and they both consummated their marriage. Rhaella doesn’t know much about her parents, and always struggled with having a true home. One fateful day, her cousin Viserys sent her away to the Starks. Little did he know, that was the start of her journey of self-discovery.

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 . 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bran is the fourth child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. All he ever wanted was to become a knight. He always thought one day he would join the kingsguard. That was until the day he found out he was betrothed to Rhaella. He didn’t think much of it, still able to be a warrior…until the day he became broken. All he wants is to find a purpose now in his life.

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3, 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own asoiaf, any pictures, or gifs that I use in the series🤍

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[pokenk]

 why does no one talk about the fact that Starks growl and whimper in their sleep like wolves like what was catelyn reaction when she first heard ned growling in his sleep or prim and proper Sansa barking in her sleep. I feel like there’s some great crack fic potential. Were characters associated with a starks like Robert, gendry, Jojen and Meera Reed and most importantly Jeyne Westerling (who is terrified of wolves, after Greywind killed I think her uncle,?) reacting to this and completely losing their minds. 

[aryastark-valarmorghulis]

Loumand fic rec - Post S2

Psa: I love reading fics that engage with the enormous complexity of the relationship between Louis and Armand, and don't shy away from the unhealthy dynamic they have; at the same time, I think Loumand is a love story, so those are all fics about love, as dark and complicated and layered as it is between Louis and Armand.

there's another memory that gets stuck by sahwen @sahwen “Do you think you can alter the taste of your blood?” Louis asked, the picture of innocence as he peaked at Armand from behind the magazine. Or: "Honey and pineapple. He stuffs himself with both for days before offering himself to me." Or: Amsterdam, 1996. Armand is desperate not to be flavorless.

monstrous servant by inthebelltower @vincentpriceofficial The old itch never goes away. It never feels less good to scratch.

inhuman taste by inthebelltower Louis feels the frisson in the air, the thrumming bass of Armand’s arousal as he speaks the words. Hell, even a mortal man could see how his breathing accelerates, the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

Youth With a Ram by celestialskiff ...his pose: the openness, the wantonness. Armand had spilled his limbs out like that many times, for Louis and others, but it was not the same. He had never been that young, or that free. Art appreciation with your favourite depressed vampires. Armand would like to buy a Carvaggio. Louis isn't so sure.

masterpieces serving maximum sentences by sleepdeprivedsurgeon A thought hangs in the air, along with the smell of sweat and nitrocellulose: Armand stretched out across the bed, on display. Objects arranged for a still life. A possessive, glassy stare; the bright-white flash of a camera lens. No one has painted me in four hundred years. It takes all his strength to pry Louis off of him, to catch his breath and say it. “I want you to photograph me.”

Crack in the Mirror / Bloodstain on the Bed by williamshooketh Armand laughs at Louis a little through a closed mouth and moves his foot out of the way. He keeps a grip on his ankle. “You want to run me like one of your working girls back home," he says.

Many thanks to @cypheragent for reccing me some of those ❤️

[princessmyrcellaofwinterfell]

AU: The Age of Queens, How It Could End

The end of the Targaryen and Baratheon civil wars, and in turn their bloodlines, was defined in the era now known as “The Age of Queens”.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the restorer, served as the first of this Age’s Queen. Known in her time as the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains, history remember the last true born Targaryen as “the Bloody Queen” for the immense death toll under her rule. Historian attribute the unprecedented death toll of small folk and nobles alike to a disastrous combination of dragon fire, her immense army, and unknown diseases carried across the Narrow Sea.

Queen Myrcella Baratheon, the bastard, was crowned with the support of House Martell upon the defeat of the Targaryen queen and her dragons. Married to Prince Trystane of Dorne before her coronation, the former Princess’ reign was short lived. Marred by rumors of bastardy and facing the threat of a legitimate Baratheon heir, Myrcella was abandoned by her supporters and executed in the name of Queen Shireen Baratheon, having only enjoyed nine days on the Iron Throne.

Queen Shireen Baratheon, the unlikely, is remembered as the most successful of this Age’s Queens, leading the recovery of the Seven Kingdoms after the bloody War of Five Kings and the subsequent civil wars of succession. A popular Queen, Shireen was known in her time as “the Virgin Queen” for her refusal to marry and her commitment to the Kingdom, her true love and devotion. Historians remember her best as the “ender of bloodlines,” a controversial title to be sure depending on their reasoning but the fact remains that with her death, Westeros lost the last true born heir with ties to the Baratheon and Targaryen bloodlines.

In the end, the best remembered Queen of the Age was not a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but that of its northern neighbor, the Stark Queen. Queen Sansa Stark, the wolf queen, ruled as a contemporary to Queen Shireen; having negotiated their independence upon the restoration of Baratheon rule in the South. Historians attribute their decades long friendship as the reason for Queen Shireen’s decision to name the Stark Queen’s second born son, Prince Brandon Stark, as her heir. A highly debated decision today, it proved to be an well respected decision at its time; aided by the popularity of the Stark Queen in the South and the rumors of the man who fathered her children. No official record remains of the North’s first prince consort but well substantiated rumors at the time named him a bastard made prince, a hero of the Long Night, of Baratheon or Targaryen blood.

The Westeros “Age of Queens” came to an end with the death of Queen Shireen Baratheon in the South. A decade later, the death of Queen Sansa Stark in the North, marked the official beginning of “The Stark Age,” aptly named for the Stark Kings that ruled the two Westeros kingdoms: King Brandon Stark, First of His Name, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and King Robb Stark, Second of His Name, King of the North.

[hd-junglebook]

From Beyond The Wall

Part 1

The wind begins to howl mournfully, swirling snowflakes dancing in the air like lost spirits. The mountain remained still as night began to fall, leaving the brothers of the nights watch in the darkness of the north.

The fire crackles weakly, struggling against the encroaching cold, casting long shadows that flicker and dance across the frozen ground.

"Can you feel it, Jon?" one brother mutters, his teeth chattering as he huddles closer to the feeble warmth.

"A storm's coming. I can smell it in the air." Jon, his cloak pulled tight around him, nods solemnly. "Aye, a blizzard's upon us. We'll need to find better shelter if we're to survive the night."

In the cover of darkness beyond the glow of the fire, Y/n and her group lurk like shadows, their breath forming wisps of vapor in the frigid air. Ygritte, her fiery hair barely visible in the dim light, leans in close to Y/n, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We strike now, while they're weak and unprepared," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with determination. "We'll catch them by surprise, before the blizzard engulfs us all."

Y/n nods, her fingers tightening around the reins of her white horse, its breath steaming in the cold night air. "Agreed. Move on my signal.”

Y/n continue to watch in silence, glancing between the brothers and the free folk. She nodded to Ygritte, grasping her bow from the leather pouch. Y/n and her group emerge from the darkness, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled by the howling wind.

The brothers of the Night's Watch startle at the sudden onslaught, scrambling for their weapons as Y/n's group descends upon them like a winter storm unleashed.

"Take no prisoners!" Ygritte's voice rings out above the chaos, her bow singing as she looses arrow after arrow into the heart of the fray. the blizzard finally descends in full force, swallowing the scene in a swirling white blanket of snow and ice.

After a few minutes of the bloody onslaught Jon realizes his efforts were pointless as he is now surrounded.

Confused and heaving out heavy breaths he looks around to grasp his situation. He pauses mid turn at the sight of Y/n dismounting her horse gracefully, still holding her bow.

“Hold.” she raises her hand, signaling for them to hold their fire. The clash of swords and the cries of men fade into the background as Jon's gaze meets hers, his eyes locked on her figure clad in a fur cloak and a dress as white as the snow.

She approaches Jon with purpose, her footsteps leaving shallow imprints in the fresh snow. The wind tugs at her cloak, sending strands of hair swirling around her face like tendrils of shadow.

“Who are you?” he mumbles out, trying to find the words. He raises his hands slowly, his eyes flicking between Y/n and the members of her group surrounding him.

Y/n's lips curl into a confident smile as she keeps her arrow trained on Jon. "I am Y/n, Princess of the Free Folk," she declares, her voice ringing out clear despite the howling wind.

Jon's eyes widen in surprise at her proclamation, a flicker of realization dawning in his expression. He lowers his hands slowly, his gaze never leaving Y/n's face. "Princess of the Free Folk," he repeats, as if testing the words on his tongue.

Y/n nods, her grip tightening on her bow. "Indeed. And now, I command you to throw down your weapon and stand," she orders, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jon hesitates for a moment, his gaze darting between Y/n and the looming figures of her group. But then, with a resigned sigh, he unclasps his sword belt and lets it fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

He stands tall, meeting Y/n's gaze, she studies Jon Snow intently as he stands before her, his demeanor composed despite the circumstances. "And who are you, truly?" Y/n asks, her voice softened but still firm.

Jon's gaze remains fixed on her, his expression unreadable behind the mask of snowflakes that cling to his beard. "I am Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch," he replies. A laugh escapes her at the name. “Mhmm snow. You’re a Stark. Ned Starks bastard son.”

Hearing her call his name and addressing him as a Stark made his heart skip a beat. Yet he remained cautious, seeing how easily the wildings obeyed her. “I am…How did you know?” he asked, as he slowly took a step back.

“It’s not me who knows, its my brother. what business does the Night's Watch have this far beyond the Wall? Us wildings? White walkers?” He nods to both causing her to sigh.

Y/n turns to her companions, her gaze sweeping over them with authority. "Tie him up. We're bringing him home," she commands, her voice firm and resolute.

He is stunned by her order, his body freezes still where he stands. The wildlings nod in silent acknowledgment, swiftly moving to obey Y/n's orders.

They bind Jon Snow's hands tightly with rope, ensuring he poses no immediate threat as they prepare to escort him back to their camp.

Y/n's eyes then find Ygritte, who stands nearby, her bow at the ready. "Ygritte, you'll watch him from now on," Y/n instructs, her voice carrying a note of trust.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything foolish." They hand the rope to Ygritte, who accepts it with a nod of gratitude.

With a swift motion, she mounts her horse, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner of authority. As she settles into the saddle, her eyes meet Jon's, and there's a flicker of something unspoken between them, a tension that crackles in the frigid air like lightning.

"Let's go," she commands, her voice cutting through the howling wind. "We have to make it back before dawn."

Jon's heart races as he watches her, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. A sudden chill runs through his back, he struggles against his restraints, approaching your horse slowly. “You really won’t say anything, huh? Just going to tie me up and drag me with you.”

Y/n meets his gaze, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “That’s how I like my men, Snow.” She stated with a devious grin. A cold look appears on his face immediately realizing what she meant by those words. Yet all he can do is be silent and follow behind you, keeping up as his body is pushed every which way by the pelting snow.

…

They finally reach the Wildling camp, Y/n dismounts her horse with a graceful ease and gives her horse a gentle pat on the neck, murmuring words of gratitude as she glances toward the towering big tent that serves as the heart of their encampment.

The women of the camp emerged from their makeshift shelters, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they danced with their children under the fading light of the day.

Giants lumbered about, their massive forms silhouetted against the twilight sky as they worked alongside the Free Folk, tending to the needs of the camp with quiet efficiency.

With a nod to Ygritte, who stands by Jon Snow's side with a watchful gaze, Y/n orders, "Bring the crow with you." she takes hold of Jon's arm, guiding him towards the tent alongside her.

Pushing open the flap of the tent, Y/n steps inside, the warmth of the fire within enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

Ygritte and Jon enter behind her, Y/n's gaze sweeps over the assembled group, taking in the familiar faces of her companions, as well as the curious glances directed towards their captive.

“Oh dear brother. I have a gift.” Mance, ever the troubadour, sat in a corner, his fingers strumming a haunting melody on his lute, the notes drifting through the air like whispers on the wind, weaving a tale of a Dornish woman's forbidden love.

He departs from his pregnant wife’s side. "What's this?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over Ygritte, Rattleshirt, and the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "A crow?"

“Ygritte found the crow, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell!” she introduced. “Release him.” With a collective nod, Ygritte moves to obey, her hands deftly untying the ropes that bind Jon's wrists before pushing him forward.

Mance's piercing blue eyes fix on Jon, assessing him with a shrewd intensity. "A crow," he remarks, his voice low and measured. "What brings you so far beyond your Wall?"

Jon meets Mance's gaze with a steady stare, his jaw set with determination. "I seek answers," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "Answers about the darkness that threatens to engulf us all."

Mance nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what answers do you hope to find here, among the Free Folk?"

Jon's gaze flickers with resolve as he speaks. "I seek allies," he declares, his voice ringing out clear and strong. "Allies in the fight against the true enemy, the Night King and his army of the dead."

A murmur ripples through the gathered Wildlings at Jon's words, their faces reflecting a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Mance, however, remains impassive, his gaze fixed on Jon with a calculating intensity.

"Allies," he repeats, his voice echoing in the tense silence of the tent. "The Night's Watch and the Free Folk, united against a common foe. A bold proposition, Jon Snow. But one that may yet prove to be our salvation."

…

The conversation with Mance concludes and the orders are given, Y/n watches as Ygritte leads Jon Snow and his direwolf away from the tent.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n turns away, her steps leading her back to her own tent. She sheds her fur cloak with a weary grace, allowing it to fall to the ground as she settles onto the floor, her legs crossed beneath her.

Closing her eyes, Y/n takes a deep breath, centering herself before allowing her mind to drift into the depths of warging. As her consciousness expands, she feels the pull of the nearby animals, their instincts calling out to her in the darkness.

With a gentle push, Y/n's spirit leaves her body, merging with that of a nearby fox. She feels the rush of freedom as she darts through the snow-covered landscape, her senses heightened by the wildness of her new form.

She approaches the bodies of the fallen Black Brothers, a sudden movement jolts her back to reality. The fox springs back in fear, its eyes locking with those of a figure rising from the snow.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she stares into the ice-blue eyes of the reanimated corpse. The corpse lunges forward as it reaches out with cold dead hands.

With a burst of speed, the fox races southward, its breath coming in ragged gasps as it flees from the looming threat. Y/n's eyes snap open abruptly, her breath coming out raggedly as she sits up. She dons her fur cloak once more, the fabric billowing around her like a protective barrier against the biting cold.

Rushing from her tent, Y/n heads straight for Mance, her footsteps quick and purposeful in the snow. She finds him surrounded by his advisors, deep in conversation about their next move. "Mance, we need to leave now," Y/n declares, her voice urgent as she approaches him.

Mance turns to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We've just arrived at our camp. Surely we can afford to rest for a while."

But Y/n shakes her head adamantly, her eyes flashing with determination. "No, Mance. We can't afford to stay here any longer, thinking about Dalla" she insists, her voice unwavering.

Mance studies her for a moment, weighing her words carefully. But then, with a resigned sigh, he nods in reluctant agreement. "Very well, Y/n," he concedes, "We'll leave in a few days."

…

Y/n stood before the gathered clans, her hair blowing in the biting gusts as she surveyed the uneasy faces staring back at her.

"As you know, the white walkers arise once more from the dead," she called out, her voice carrying over the murmurs that rippled through the crowd. "As your Princess, I swear to lead you safely to the Wall."

She continued, her tone firm, "My brother has brought together the Free Folk like no one has before." Gesturing to Mance, who stood with his wife behind her, she emphasized, "But winter is coming—the harshest in memory. The dead will rise to join the White Walkers' army. They will not wait for spring!"

The truth of her words sank in among the Free Folk, glances exchanged as the severity of the situation settled upon them. Mance stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"The princess speaks true," he declared, his voice carrying authority. "The Wall is our only refuge against the storm. We must begin the march at once... before it is too late."

Agreement murmured through the clans, and Y/n nodded gratefully to Mance. Drawing her furs tighter against the cold, she caught sight of Jon Snow, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before flickering away.

…

In the wake of her stirring speech, preparations for the journey to the Wall began in earnest. The clans bustled with activity, packing supplies, sharpening weapons, and tending to their families in anticipation of the arduous trek ahead.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the rugged landscape, and the distant howls of wolves echoed through the valleys.

It was there, in the quiet stillness of the night, that Y/n encountered her brother's pregnant wife once more. She stood alone, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit horizon, a solitary figure in the darkness.

"Are you all right?" Y/n asked softly as she turned to face her, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Y/n walked closer to where she was standing, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. "I'm fine," she replied curtly.

Y/n studied her for a moment, sensing the weight of her burden in the lines of her face and the tension in her shoulders. There was a distance between them, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

"I wanted to thank you," Y/n said earnestly, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them. "For standing with me back there. Your support means more to me than you know."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth in the depths of her eyes. "You don't have to thank me," she replied, her voice gentle. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not." There was a moment of quiet understanding between them as they stood together beneath the starlit sky.

…

give me some feedback, i'd like to know if this sucks lol

[bisexualmultifandommess]

I would die for Cole and so would Arya who is my Inquisitor

[tinylittlepistols]

Jonsa Halloween 2023

Day 5 (October 31st): Free Choice

Resurrection/Witch/Spirit

Jonsa AU (Inspired by Practical Magic)

Since leaving the North to attend the most prestigious fashion school in the South, Sansa has had a made a lot of mistakes. Leaving the safety and protection of Winterfell, which has been the Stark family estate for hundreds of years, was one of them. Making the wrong friends and trusting the wrong people was another. But dating Joffrey Baratheon was the worst of them all.

When Sansa drops out of school, and leaves her dreams behind to hide out in the Vale with a scandal-plagued Joffrey, things go from bad to worse. What started out as the occasional shove or insult from Joffrey has turned into black eyes and broken ribs.

Miserable, missing home, and done with Joffrey — and with love — Sansa leaves the Vale in the middle of the night and heads back North to what’s left of her family (plagued for generations with a curse, Stark men never make it back past the Neck if they journey South); a curse that has already claimed their father and their big brother Robb.

Sansa never expects Joffrey to follow.

When she finds herself dragging her ex-boyfriend’s dead body out of her childhood home (specifically, the greenhouse floor, where he dropped dead the second time, not the kitchen table, where he died first) and through her mother’s magical garden, with her little sister late one cool autumn night, she knows she’s really, really messed up.

It isn’t until two (very handsome) Federal agents show up the next day looking for a missing Joffrey, that Sansa begins to think the family curse is alive and well and about to get her arrested for murder. That is, if Joffrey doesn’t get her first.

_____________________

Featuring two witchy sisters bonding over murder and magic, a mother still grieving her dead husband while raising two teenaged boys on her own, and dealing with her own mess of a sister (and her sister’s sheltered young son) a rowdy Rickon, who’s as wild as their uncle Brandon used to be, an observant Bran, who may possess magic to rival all the Starks put together, and a pair of Federal agents who are about to meet two women who will change the rest of their lives (if they don’t get them killed — or fired — first).

* With bonus agents Lannister and Tarth, who deal exclusively in cases of the paranormal, spooky and just damn weird.

[buttercuparry]

Now if I say that in asoiaf fandom, beauty and femininity of female characters are measured by how many male characters ( the upper in class the better) have desired these female characters sexually and in turn the acknowledgement of these said female characters' sexuality comes from not their own confessions but from wanting/dreading to see reciprocations of the advances made by the male characters, I will be the bad guy.

I guess it is Grrm's fault in a way. It is all very voyeuristic. The threat of rape hangs in the air for all women and we have little girls with too full breasts in too tight or barely there gowns. We are present for the bedding ceremony and taken into bedrooms which are breeding grounds of all the lascivious gossips. But the irony is that this fandom with all its intelligent takes on gender, somehow subscribes fully to the male gaze. That which makes a woman desireable to men, is beautiful and feminine. Why else would Lyanna Stark be pretty but, you all break out in hives when Mackenzie or Olivia is face casted as Arya ( you absolutely don't when these same actresses are casted as Lyanna). You all will break your spine and be the Ring ghost climbing around on all fours with your "b-but Arya doesn't look like her Aunt!! let little girls be ugly 👏🏽👏🏽" GIRL I-

[alwaysdaenerys]

our great glory

Chapter 30: Rhaegar II

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 1: A New Life

masterlist l next

(a/n) hello! I decided to restart my “Ice and Fire” fanfaction because I have so much more ideas for a better story :) even though it’s discontinued, if you would like to check it out here’s the masterlist! I hope you guys will enjoy this one 🤍 I’m working on the masterlist for this series right now!

UPDATED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER IS ON WATTPAD

https://www.wattpad.com/1439910833-dragon-of-the-north-b-stark-𝐢-a-new-life

Divider credit: @dingusfreakhxrrington @valeskafics

°❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･ CW: fem!oc, betrothal (forced marriage), topics of abuse and racism, angst, a lot of fluff, smut (I’ll try lol), and murder.꙳·❅°*˖ Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

Why must the gods be so cruel to me? What could I have possibly done to deserve this life? To be sold off like a slave by my own flesh and blood…I’ll never forgive Viserys. Without Dany, I am alone. Without love. I want to go home. But…where do I belong? The summer isles? No, that can’t be my true home, I never had the chance to live there. Do I belong anywhere?

Daughter of the mad king’s younger brother. Rhaella never knew her mother. She died after giving birth in the Summer Isles, killed by assassins under the command of the new king, Robert Baratheon. When he found out Rhaella’s mother was pregnant, he wanted both of them dead. Rhaella was smuggled out of the isles and sent to her cousins, the last Targaryens.

“I know you’re upset,” Lord Eddard Stark said, placing his hand on top of hers.“But please, believe me when I say this. I will never let anyone harm you. You are under my protection now.”

Rhaella gave him a weak smile back. Rhaella, the same name as the Mad King’s sister and wife. Daenerys gave her the name. Viserys despised the idea of his mother’s name given to the likes of a foreign girl. Even though she was still a Targaryen, he only considered her half and not pure. She took after her mother, with more summer isle features. Her skin wasn’t pale, instead, a light amber and tan that would get even darker in the sun. She had long silver curly hair, unlike her cousins who had straight silver blonde hair. The thing Rhaella hated the most was her eyes. Instead of being a pretty violet color, she had dark purple eyes that almost looked black.

Rhaella looked away from the carriage window to make eye contact with Lord Stark, “My Lord?” She asked, “Why did you accept my cousin’s offer to take me?”

“Well, you see,” he explained, “The rebellion caused great loss for everyone. So many people, loved ones, dead. Especially your family, unfortunately. I’ll never forgive him for his order of murder. When the king found out 3 Targaryens were still out in the world, he wanted you all dead. I wanted to prove to him that even though Areys was mad, that doesn’t mean you all don’t deserve to live. By taking you in and marrying one of my sons, we can show him that you are not our enemies. It took him a while to be fully convinced, but he agreed to let you live.”

”But, my eldest cousin,” Rhaella said. “He…he wants to take the seven kingdoms. I’m not sure how, but that is his plan.”

”I highly doubt he is a true threat,” Lord Stark said.

”you’re right,” she admitted. “He can be a big coward at times.”

That comment made him chuckle.

He has a nice smile, very warm and welcoming. Even though he did come off as cold before.

“Will I have to marry now?” Rhaella asked.

“Oh gods no!” He chuckled, “you are far too young, my son as well.”

“Will he like me?”

“I believe so, you have nothing to worry about. Bran is a good kid. He will treat you right.”

Once they made it through the gates, the carriage stopped. Lord Stark exited first so he could get the door for Rhaella. He gently held her hand as she took her steps down. Once Rhaella looked up from the steps, she saw the Stark family before her. Not letting go of her hand, Lord Stark approached his family to introduce their special guest.

“This is Rhaella Targaryen. As you all know, she will be with us now. Treat her as you would treat each other. If anyone disrespects her, let me know.”

They all nodded. A very handsome older boy approached her, “Hello, my lady, I am Robb,” he told her, “I hope you enjoy Winterfell and welcome!” Before walking away, he kissed her hand. That made Rhaella blush, “T-Thank you.” He had blue eyes and dark auburn hair. It was so dark you could barely tell if it was red. He had to have been the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.

An older girl walked up to her gracefully, “Hello,” she smiled, “my name is Sansa. I hope we can grow to be like sisters! Maybe even brush each other’s hair, make dresses together, and so much more!” Rhaella gave a slight smile back, “I would love that!” Then a girl, who looked not too older than her, approached saying, “My name is Arya! Don’t worry, we don’t have to do girly stuff together. There are other ways to have fun!”

Then, she met Rickon, the youngest in the family, and their mother Lady Stark. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed, “aren't you just a lovely thing? Such a beauty.” Rhaella blushed at the compliment, thanking her.

She must be lying to me. I mean, just look at me! The journey to Westeros was so long that hair became wild and poofy.

”You must be frightened,” Lady Stark said. “Trust me, I never favored the cold myself. I still don’t, but you grow to appreciate it.”

Rhaella couldn’t keep her eyes off Lady Catelyn Stark’s features. Like Robb and Sansa, she had long auburn hair and pretty blue eyes. Her gown was also blue, making her eyes stand out even more.

“Where is Bran?” Lord Stark asked his wife.

“I told that boy to stop climbing,” she explained. “Brandon!”

“Sorry mother!” A voice yelled from above, “I’m coming down!”

When Rhaella looked up, she examined him. He looked to be the same age as her. He had dark brown hair and eyes with freckles on his face. He approached her and bowed, “Welcome to Winterfell, I hope you will take a liking to it.” “Thank you,” she replied.

The atmosphere quickly grew awkward. The two children didn’t know what to say to each other.

Lady Stark took Rhaella’s hand, “You must be exhausted, here, come with me.” She guided Rhaella to her bed chamber and had the handmaidens start a bath. After the bath, she laid on her bed for a quick nap.

After waking up, the handmaidens helped her get into a gown for dinner. The dress was purple with roses embroidered across the neckline. Then, they helped her with her hair. They clearly did not know what they were doing. They aren’t used to doing curly hair like Rhaella’s, but they managed to make something of it. They brushed out her curls, putting them in a half-up-half-down style. The ponytail was braided and put into a bun. After the handmaidens left the room, she looked at herself in the mirror.

I don’t even look like myself anymore.

Tears began to fill her eyes, I just want to go home.

She bolted out of the room, not knowing where she was going. She ran outside the big castle but didn’t dare to leave outside the castle walls. She eventually found an area that stood out to her. The whole vibe was strange as if something or someone was watching her. It was nothing but an old forest with no snow. In the middle of it, was a pool and a tree. A tree she’d never seen before. The huge tree was white with red leaves and a face carved into it. She stared deeply into the tree’s eyes for a while.

Is it staring back at me?

She snapped out of it, shaking her head, and climbed up the tree to sit on a huge branch.

Without Daenerys, I am lost. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying in the tree for, but she didn’t care. Winterfell wasn’t her home.

“Rhaella?” She heard a voice ask.

When she looked up, she saw Bran with a concerned look on his face, “w-why are you crying?”

She wiped her tears. “Sorry, I just miss my sister…how did you know I’d be here?”

“I like to go to the godswood, and climb up this tree,” he said. “Whenever I like to be alone and think. I’m sorry you had to leave your sister.”

“Well, she isn’t my sister, not really,” she admitted, wiping her face. “We are actually cousins. We just call each other sisters.”

He sat next to her, “my family was worried about you. They thought you might have ran away.” He nervously chuckled. “I…I know that we are to be married one day. The idea of marriage scares me.”

She doesn’t respond, only looking down at her hands as she fidgets with them. “I have something for you,” Bran showed her a beautiful blue flower. “That was the reason I was climbing.” He told her. “I wanted to give you something as a gift. I was going to give it to you at the dinner table but here. If I hurt your feelings not being there to greet you, I’m so sorry.” Rhaella took the flower and sniffed it.

“It’s called the winter rose,” he continued. “A rare flower that can grow around the castle.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

”You know, just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean we have to be in love right now or anything,” he said. “Let’s just be friends!”

”Yeah I’d like that!” She said.

”And just so you know,” he whispered. “I liked your hair better before. Your curly hair is much better.”

She laughed, “You and me both.”

”You’re laughing!”

”So?”

”This is your first time laughing here,” he said. “You have a nice smile.”

”Thanks, Bran,” she said. “You know, my eldest cousin ,Viserys, told me and Dany that you guys were evil monsters. But, you guys aren’t monstrous at all!”

Before Bran could respond, they both hear a voice from down below calling for Bran. An older boy who looked the same age as Robb. He was very handsome with black curls and dark eyes. “I found her Jon!” Bran shouted.

”Well, what are you sitting around for? They are all waiting for you two!” The two of them climbed down from the tree and walked with Jon.

“Forgive me, my name is Jon Snow,” he told Rhaella. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

”I never heard of the last name ‘snow’ before,” she confessed.

Bran began to explain, ”That last name actually means he’s a…well—”

”Bastard.” Jon said. His voice was cold and somber.

”I don’t know what that means,” Rhaella said. “But Viserys called me that sometimes, I assumed as an insult.”

”It means that my father, Lord Stark, had me with another woman. I wanted to meet you when you arrived, but Lady Stark thought it would be disrespectful.”

Rhaella couldn’t help but feel awful for him. There was something about Jon Snow that made him stand out. As if they had a connection. She wondered if Jon felt it too.

“You said that Viserys called us evil,” Bran said. “Then why did he want to send you away to us?”

“He hates me,” she answered. “He saw you guys as an opportunity to get rid of me…”

Once they all made it to the dining hall, all eyes were on Rhaella and Bran. “Well, aren’t you just beautiful?” Catelyn smiled. “Please, have a seat.” Bran escorted her to her chair and went back to his. Before Jon could leave the Hall, Rhaella asked, “Can Jon eat with us please?”

”Ah, I see you met him while you were gone,” Lord Stark said, amused. “Would him eating with us please you?”

Rhaella looked over at Jon, whose eyes lightened up. She looked back at Lord Stark and gave a nod. He looked over at Lady Stark, “What do you say?”

She looked into Rhaella’s sparkling eyes and sighed, “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

Rhaella gave a big smile. Jon pulled a chair next to her whispering, “Thank you Rhaella.”

“I hope you like the dress,” Sansa said. “I made it myself! I wanted to test my embroidery skills and decided to make you one!”

“It’s beautiful,” Rhaella told her. “You should teach me!” Sansa nodded gleefully.

“You know, we all thought you ran off and escaped!” Arya laughed.

“I…I didn’t mean any trouble or offense, I apologize.” Rhaella announced, standing up from her chair and bowing her head. “It was rude of me.”

“No,” Lord Stark said. “You have every right to feel the way you do. Your life changed right before your eyes. But please, believe me when I say this, we are here for you.”

“Aye.” Robb agreed. “If you are having trouble with anyone or anything let us know.” She thanked the both of them for their kindness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like outside of Westeros?” Catelyn asked.

Rhaella told them everything. Even about the abuse Viserys had done to her. He always yelled at her for the littlest things. The worst thing he ever did was sneak into her bedchamber with a knife. He threatened to cut out her insides if she didn’t cooperate with his plan to send her to the North.

They all had concerned looks on their faces. The abuse never got to her until explaining it out loud. She really did have it rough.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Arya said. “You are with us now!”

“Safe and sound,” Sansa added.

Rhaella didn’t realize she was smiling.

”So, Rhaella…you said you were from the Summer Isles right?” Theon asked.

“Yes, why you ask?”

He smirked at Robb before asking, “I heard the women there are quite breathtakingly beautiful?” She could have sworn she heard him whisper “and have nice bodies.”

”Well, I’ve never actually stayed there, I had to flee because of the King,” she explained. “But from the books I’ve read and from what I heard from some servants in Pentos, yes, the women there are quite beautiful.”

”I also heard that they have a passion for love making,” he said. “Maybe I gotta visit there sometime-.”

”Theon!” Lady Stark snapped. “Don’t be disrespectful-.”

”Oh that’s okay!” Rhaella reassured her. “You’re right, Theon! They do have a passion for it. If I were to stay in the Isles, I would have been a prostitute myself!”

Sansa and Lady Stark almost choked on their food, as Robb, Theon, and Jon bursted out laughing at the table. She didn’t understand what was so funny, but she laughed along with them.

”What’s a prostitute?” Rickon asked, innocently. That made the boys start crying from laughter. Theon even fell out of his chair.

”Y-You’ll know when you’re older!” Lady Stark said.

”You’ll fit in with us just fine, child,” Lord Stark said. “Welcome to the family!”

°❀⋆Daenerys.ೃ࿔*:･

Daenerys never felt more lonely. She missed Rhaella, her real family. She’d never forgive her brother for what he did.

“Daenerys!” Viserys shouted.

He entered her bed chamber, “do not tell me you’re still upset about that savage.”

She felt rage enter her body as he said those words. “She is not a savage, she’s my sister,” she replied softly. “And I don’t understand why you sent her to our enemies.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “We both know that’s not true. She’s our cousin. Daughter of our uncle and whatever foreign whore he married. She’s not a pure Targaryen like us, Dany. And she never will be. I gave her away because we need allies, even if they are enemies. The Starks are a strong house, and I knew that Lord Stark would gladly take her in. The fool won’t even know of my plans to destroy him and his dear friend Robert.”

Daenerys always considered Rhaella her sister, even if it wasn’t true. They spent all of their time together, never leaving one’s side. It felt like it was yesterday, the day Rhaella arrived in Braavos as a baby. Viserys wanted nothing to do with her while Daenerys cherished her. She had no idea why Viserys was so upset about naming their cousin after their mother. It was only a name after all. She always thought it was much deeper than Rhaella being a “savage.” She never dared to ask him though.

“I have good news.” He announced. She examined his face, his grin looked devious. Truly it wasn’t good news. “I found you a husband,” he said. “His name is Khal Drogo, Magister Illyrio said. A Dothraki savage. When you two wed, I’ll have his army. We can finally go home, sweet sister.”

Home.

All she ever wanted was a home. A home with Rhaella, where they could finally be happy together. With her gone, Daenerys wasn’t sure if it would be home without her.

“And what about her?” She asked him.

“The savage?” He scoffed. “Those Starks have her now. I don’t care what they do to her. As long as we have our alliance with the North.”

Daenerys wanted to cry, but she stayed strong. I will meet her again, one day.

°❆⋆Bran ೃ࿔*:･

It had only been a couple of months, but for Bran, it felt like he had known Rhaella his whole life. Rhaella also grew close to his sisters but mostly Arya. The three of them were inseparable. Rhaella even taught them some of the Valyrian language. Some nights, the three of them would stay up and read history books about Targaryen history until they got caught by the Septa. For fun, they liked to go sledding and have snowball fights. The older Stark boys and Rickon joined them sometimes, but never Sansa. Ever since Rhaella arrived, Sansa and Arya fought less. It’s like wherever she went, she spread joy. That’s one of the traits Bran liked about her.

Now, everyone is preparing for the arrival of the King.

He overheard his father saying that the King was almost there. Bran felt sorry for Rhaella because she was so stressed out. “What will he do to me?” She asked. He always reassured her, “You are under our protection now, the King approved of you. Don’t worry about a thing.”

At that moment, it was time for Bran to practice his archery. He hasn’t been getting any better. He wanted to show his family he could hit the bull’s eye. First, only Robb was watching him. Then, came Jon and Rickon. Before he knew it, his parents came to watch as well.

“Keep practicing, Bran,” Lord Stark insisted. “Go on.”

Jon leaned in towards Bran, placing his hand on his shoulder, “Alright, father is watching.”

Jon looks over and sees Rhaella and Arya watching as well, “and her…” he whispered.

Bran took a deep gulp. He didn’t like to get teased about Rhaella. They only do it because we are to be married. We are just friends, good friends.

Bran nodded and started to aim his bow and arrow at his target.

“Relax your bow arm…” Robb commented.

Just before Bran could release the arrow, someone else’s hits the target and another shoots right through it.

All of the boys turned their heads to see Rhaella and Arya giggling. “Hey!” Bran yelled. The girls both curtseyed but quickly took off once they saw Bran chasing them. The kids kept on playing until their father took all of the boys to see an execution. Bran was finally old enough to see one.

“Are you scared?” Rhaella asked him as he was mounting his pony.

“I’m not sure.” He answered honestly.

But I can’t be afraid. My father told me I won’t be a boy forever. I’ll be a man-grown soon. I mustn’t be afraid. I need to be brave. Like Robb and Jon. Wolves are never afraid.

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[stuntdemon-6]

When the White Winds Blow...

Game of Thrones (show) fanfic. Pre-series. Fluff. A little bit of ansgt in Jon's section, cause even at 11 he's still a broody little bastard. 2,000+ words

Summery - The storm was fiercer than any Winterfell had seen in years. The wind seemed to shake the stone walls, and it was impossible to sleep with the thunderous noise outside. Northerners don't scare easy, especially not from something as simple as the weather… But children do. The Stark children are no exception. They knew if they sought out their parents, their Lord Father would just send them back to their beds. They were far too proud to seek their Septa, even the youngest little lord. Where else are they supposed to turn, except their older brother? It's the snow that's scaring them, so it should be a Snow that comforts them, shouldnt it?

Authors Note: I know Rickon would have been born already, in the show's timeline, but I couldnt decide where a 1-ish year old would fit into this story. Like, would he be in a nursery? Does he still have a wetnurse? Would Robb have gone to his room to get him, and bring him to Jon's to be with the rest? Or would they leave him to the Septa, or would Catelynn be checking in on him? I don't know. So I decided he doesnt exist. lol.

---

Winterfell hadnt seen a blizzard of this magnitude in a long while. The wind was harsh enough to knock a grown man off his feet, tonight. The temperature dropped low enough to freeze your fingers off in no time flat. Soon there would be so much snow that hardly anyone would be able to walk through it. It wasn't anywhere near the kind of weather winter would bring soon enough, but after such a long and comparatively mild summer, it was truly an unsettling event. Northerners don't scare easy, mind you, especially not from something as simple as the weather… But children do.

The first to give into fear was Bran. To the surprise of no one. He was the youngest, after all. A child of only 5. He had already been jumpy during the day when the storm was only just beginning. No matter how many times someone assured him it was 'only the wind,' he still startled at every gust and refused to step outside. His older brothers teased him, but for once he didn't care. The winds howled like the monsters in Old Nans stories. And as the storm picked up, his ever so brave brothers stayed nearer and nearer to the main doors until they too began finding reasons not to leave. That scared Bran even more.

Another burst of wind came screaming past his covered window, and Bran could have sworn the great stone walls of Winterfell were trembling just as much as him. He wasnt an easy kid to scare. He wasnt. But try as he might, he couldnt choke down the gasp that escaped him, sitting bolt upright in his darkened room. He still had a candle burning at his bedside. He wasnt supposed to, not at this hour. He just didn't want it to be so… dark. Not with the noise outside. Not with the way his heart pounded.

Another scream of wind, and he had enough.

He threw aside his blanket and reached for the candle, all but running for his bedroom door. It wasnt until he grabbed the handle that he rememebed he wasnt supposed to wander the halls this late. The knowledge didnt stop him, but it did slow him down. He pealed the door open quietly and padded out into the hall, bare feet moving silently across the cold stone floor. He knew he couldn't go to his parents. His father would just send him back to his room, say something about how they have nothing to fear from wind. His mother would walk him back and tuck him in, but then she would leave, and he would be alone again. He could go find Septa Mordane, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't want just anyone to know he was afraid. And besides, she would tell his mother.

His feet carried him down a familiar path, and when he realized where he was going, he was almost shocked at himself. It's so obvious, he thought, why didnt i think of him first?

-

Sansa didn't think there was anything wrong with being afraid, really. Not that she was, of course. But if someone else were afraid tonight, she would understand it. It only took one glance out the window to find reason for it. Sure, the sound of the wind was startling, but that should do little more than make you jump. Maybe keep you from falling asleep. No, the sound was no reason to be afraid.

The sight, though…

She shouldnt have looked outside. She should have kept her window closed like she'd been told, to keep the wind and the chill out and not let the warmth of her fireplace escape. But you can't fault an 8 year old for being curious, can you? What greeted her when she pulled the shutters back was not her usual view. It wasnt the familiar gardens and pathways and endless night sky full of glittering stars that she often wished upon. There were no trees, no towers, no walls or battlements. In a moment of pure shock, she almost wondered if she had imagined all of that. All she saw now was white.

The snow was falling so heavily, so densely, that it was all the eye could see. It blocked out the sky. It blocked out the ground. Sansa had once dreamed of what it'd be like to fly among the clouds, but if this was what she would see up there, than she wanted no part in it. It didnt even looked like she was in Winterfell. Or rather, it looked like Winterfell was gone.

Suddenly, Sansa found it difficult to breath.

She knew it was irrational. She knew it was just snow. It was just snow. In the morning, when the storm passed, the snow would be gone and Winterfell would return to her. She would look out her window and be able to see the sun. Everything would be fine come morning.

But morning was not coming anytime soon.

And Sansa was not fine now.

Septa Mordane would say she was being silly. Mother and Father would, too. Gods only knew how badly Robb would tease her if he saw her like this. But she needed someone to make it alright. Someone she could see right now to remind her that she was home. She was safe. Winterfell hadn't left her, even if the window told her otherwise. More than anything, in that very moment, Sansa needed to be held.

There was no shame in being afraid, she reminded herself as she left her room. And if there is, there's one person who wont judge me for it.

-

He was not scared. That's what Robb told himself, sitting at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on the door, listening to the wind. He was 11 years old. He was practically grown. And he was a Stark, at that. He was not scared of a storm. He could fall asleep whenever he pleased, as easy as any other night, he just… wasnt tired yet. His thoughts were too busy, is all.

A storm this bad would bring heavy snowfall. Robb had seen plenty of heavy snows. Snow that came up to his knees, up to his waist even. Snow that he had a hard time moving through without help. But none of those storms had sounded this bad or lasted this long.

The storm started during the day and had only gotten progressively worse and worse, showing no signs of letting up anytime soon. How much snow would they end up with? Would it be taller than him? Would it be taller than even Father?

Would they be able to open the doors? Would there be too much for the servants to clear away, and leave them trapped inside until it began to thaw? It had been freezing cold for days and would likely stay that way. Would the snow thaw at all? How many days would it take for them to get back to life as normal?

How were horses and carts supposed to get in and out, if the snow got that bad? Would they be able to get food? Were the horses going to freeze out there?

Oh, gods.

No, he was not scared. He wasnt. He was just being… practical. That was it. Thinking about the potential risks, like a man, like the future Lord of Winterfell should. He wasnt scared. He was cautious.

A shuffling sound drew him out of his thoughts. Quiet enough that it would have been drowned out by the wind outside, if his ears hadnt already been searching for anything else to focus on. It sounded like…

With a smile, he got to his feet. He knew exactly what that sounded like. He pulled the door open, "Little late for a stroll, isnt it?"

Arya jumped nearly a foot in the air. She spun on her heel, backtracking to where he stood and hissing out, "Keep your voice down."

"You're not supposed to leave your room at night." He pointed out, smile still in place even as he lowered his volume to match hers.

"I know that!" She replied.

"Then where are you going?"

She shrugged, "To bother Jon. Why do you care?" Her words were the only calm thing about her. Her back was ramrod straight. Her eyes darted around the hall as if waiting for a monster to jump out and claw them both to shreds. When another gust of wind passed by outside, Robb watched his little sister jump once more.

"You're scared." He observed.

"Am not!"

"Than go back to bed."

Arya crossed her arms. "No."

"Because you cant sleep." Robb couldnt help but tease, "Because you're scared."

She scoffed, "You're awake too."

"I'm not tired."

"Yeah, right."

He wasnt in the mood to debate with a 6 year old girl. Not when his own thoughts were still on his perfectly reasonable concerns about the storm waging all around them. He heaved a dramatic sigh and shut his bedroom door behind him. "Come along, then, sister. Let's go bother Jon together. I'll make sure the scary wind doesnt hurt you on the way."

As they got closer to Jon's room, just down the hall from his own, Robb let a shakier and less practical thought cross his mind. Gods, Jon, please still be awake.

-

Jon's thoughts were not on the storm, but on his siblings. He knew them all better than anyone. Even Sansa, who recently began to fully grasp what the word 'bastard' meant and started to pull away, started only refering to him as her 'half-brother.' Despite distancing herself, she was always right next to the rest in his thoughts. He knew none of them could possibly be asleep during a storm like this. That was what kept him awake.

His younger siblings were strong, but they were still small. Jon remembered being 8 like Sansa, 6 like Arya, 5 like Bran. He remembered how badly storms used to scare him then. How he would curl up in bed, keep a candle burning in secret so as not to be left alone in the dark, refuse to look out his window in fear of what he would and wouldnt see. He remembered the one time he'd tried to seek some comfort. Wandered out of his room in the dead of night, hoping to find Septa Mordane or Maester Lewin or, hells, even Father. Anyone who might be able to assure him that the storm would pass.

He found Lady Catelynn instead. He had been younger than even Bran was, now. Hadnt truly grasped the meaning of being a bastard, hadn't yet understood why Lady Catelynn seemed to hate him so much, and in his fearful state he had all but forgotten. The scolding he received was an effective reminder.

Jon wished he could check on his siblings. There wasnt a shred of doubt in his mind that they were all scared, tonight. This storm was worse than any the younger ones had seen in their lives. Even Robb was probably unnerved by it. More than once, Jon had gotten out of bed and made it halfway to his door, intent on heading to one of thier rooms and knocking. Just knocking. If they didn't answer, than maybe he was wrong and they were able to sleep. Maybe they were tougher than he had been, at their ages. And if not, if they were as scared as he thought they'd be, than they wouldnt have to be scared alone.

But he knew they'd all send him away.

Robb would be offended at the mere thought of him being afraid of a snowstorm. Arya, too. They both saw themselves as far too strong and rational for that. Sansa might be open to having company, but she would never want his company. Not anymore. Bran might let him in, but he would be worried about Jon getting in trouble for being out of bed so late. He wouldn't want him to stay.

So there he laid. Staring at the ceiling above his bed. Worrying about his siblings.

When the sound of shuffling feet and quiet voices met his ears. He sat up slowly, careful not to make a noise as he strained to hear more. He couldnt make out any words, but he heard several people speaking in hushed tones just outside his door. Then a hesitant knock.

He got up and answered it.

Robb stood at the front of the pack, a sheepish look on his face. Arya was at his left, face set in a frown and arms crossed, taut as a bowstring. A step behind to Robb's right was Bran. The poor kid was shaking, his expression holding nothing but fear and making no attempt to hide that fact. At the back stood Sansa. She was the one to break the moment of silence that settled over them as Jon stared at them in open confusion. To the shock of every single one, she shoved right passed the other three and directly into Jon's arms.

He drew her close on instinct. His mind might still be struggling to make sense of it all, but if his sister needed to be held, than he would hold her. She didn't need to ask, and he didnt need to ask why. His eyes drifted over the faces of the rest, meeting each in turn, before it all clicked in his mind. He kept one arm around Sansa as he stepped aside to let them in. Bran wasted no time in climbing up onto Jon's bed and tucking his knees up to his chest. Arya followed suit, planting herself like a tree right next to him.

Robb shut the door softly behind him, whispering into the quiet room, "Hope we didn't wake you."

"No," Jon replied, "Wasn't tired."

[countrymusiclover]

45 - The Rightful Queen

Part 46

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Cersei snapped at me spinning around on her feet and nearly collapsing to the stone floor by who she was before her. “What are you looking at - J -Jaime.” Biting my lip I prayed that she would believe the little white lie that we were doing right underneath her nose.

I kept my gaze on the twins who moved to the center of the room embracing one another in a tight hug. Cersei buried her face against the fabric of his tunic shirt. He wrapped his arms around her body, burying his nose into her short blonde hair before he tilted her face up to look into his watery eyes. “Cersei.”

“You’re hurt.” She muttered through some tears when he winced after she had pushed her heads against his chest.

Jaime shakes his head, lifting her chin back up so she’d focus solely on him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re bleeding.” She sniffed crying more tears, removing her hands off his chest seeing her hands covered in blood from the wound he appeared to have gotten injured at.

My husband brushed her hair out of her eyes. “That’s not important. We need to get out of here before they come for you. You can’t keep the throne anymore.”

“Give up the throne, do you hear yourself?” Cersei drew her head back and he dropped his hands from the side of her face.

Jaime didn’t give her a verbal response instead he grabbed her face in his hands a second time and he smashed his lips down upon hers. I lowered my gaze to the stone floor hating how it looked to watch them kiss since they were brother and sister. “If you wish to live and not be killed it’s the only way.” He broke the kiss resting his forehead down upon hers.

The golden lioness shoved her hands against his chest angrily. “I will not give up my power. I have worked too hard all of my life to have this. I refuse to let anyone take it from me!” Cersei stomped her feet on the stone floor getting more frustrated.

I lowered my right hand downward to the sword on my hip, wrapping my fingers around the blade handle. “Cersei, you have one chance here to bend the knee and give up your crown. Once you do that you’ll get to live-“

“Go to hell you cunt!” She whipped her head back around in my direction, baring her teeth.

I glared at her, stomping up to her where we were nearly chest to chest with one another. “I’m glad you never were betrothed to my brother Rhaegar. He was the greatest person I have ever known. He gave genuine care about the smallfolk unlike you did. You are just like my father was when he burned everyone with Wildfire.”

“You have no right to speak to me in that tone. I am the Queen! - argh! What - what do you think you’re doing?” I quickly spun the blonde around where her back was against my front. I snatched the dagger out from inside one of my combat boots and pushed it lightly against her throat trying to be as confident as she was when she did the exact same thing to me years ago.

Cersei struggled to fight against my hold, thrashing whatever way she could but I pressed the dagger a little harder against her throat drawing blood. “It doesn’t feel too good does it. To be in the same position you had me in all those years ago. Now listen to me, I don’t wish to hurt you and I won’t do anything so long as you bend the knee and address the last Targaryens as rulers.”

“Vaella, let her go.” Jaime raised his voice at me.

I clutched the handle of the dagger I was holding to her throat. “She attempted to kill our daughter, Jaime. She’ll keep coming after our family - what else are we supposed to do?”

“Come here.” Jaime crossed the room yanking the blonde from my grasp with one arm holding her against his chest. His other hand reached down and I watched him grab a hold of a very thin sword attached to his hip. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. You need to listen to me.”

Cersei spat in her brother's face. “What could you possibly have to say to me? You’ve always been the stupidest Lannister.”

“The North Remembers.” Jaime simply declared down to his sister.

Cersei knitted her brows together in such confusion. “Wha-what?”

“My name is Arya Stark. I want you to remember that before you die.” Jaime raised his hand with the tiny sword in his fingers stabbing her in the middle of the stomach and lowered her body to the stone floor. He raised his other hand removing a face mask and showing Cersei that it was in fact the youngest Stark daughter who everyone else believed was dead after she had killed her father.

Cersei began gasping for breath while I crossed the room lowering myself down on one knee to be level with her in her very last moments. Brushing her short hair from her face I slide my dagger back inside my combat boot. “I tried to offer you another way, Cersei and you didn’t take me up on it. You are no longer the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Vaella! Vaella!” Lifting my head up sharply I recognized the familiar voice booming throughout the halls of the Red Keep.

Arya turned her head in my direction, we could now both hear the loud sound of bells from the tower ringing through the streets meaning Jaime and Tyrion must have agreed on a side plan like we had. “Are you going to find him?”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I nodded, raising myself up from the ground and bolted out of the room and around multiple corners throughout the huge castle. My hair was flowing behind my back while my boots scattered across the stone, up and down every set of stairs I could call out his name like a wind and a prayer. “Jaime! Jaime, Jaime, Jaime!”

Halting in my tracks my boots screeched against the cold stone when I noticed that I was standing now in the center of the throne room. The Iron Throne was directly in front of me and I almost didn’t notice my feet moving forward to the throne steps. Closing my eyes I recalled a very faint memory of my mother when I was a young child the closer I got to the throne of swords.

Making my way up the stone steps I brushed the fingertips of my right hand on the armrests of the sharp chair. I pictured my mother in this moment, the moment I realized that I didn’t want what life was forced upon her.

“Momma, have you ever sat in that chair?” The innocent girl in me at the age of 8 years old asked my mother while we were walking up to the large sword chair.

Rhaella, my mother smiled down at me keeping my smaller hand in hers. “Unfortunately I haven't, dear.”

“Why?” I asked a simple question.

Mom bent down on a knee to be eye level with me, showing such a gentle look on her face. “Well because I am not the one in charge. I may wear a crown and be called a Queen but it doesn’t make me the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Why doesn't it. Daddy wears the crown and the people say he's in charge.”

Mom brushes hair out of my face. “That’s the way of the world. Men are the ones in charge. But you, my girl , will be different than most.”

“What do you mean, momma?” I tilted my head to the side not understanding what she meant by that.

Rhaella placed both her hands on the side of my face kissing my forehead before she delivered words I would remember for the rest of my life. “You Vaella will be the best Queen there ever was because you are my daughter. You are the best version of your father and I. It will make you the greatest Queen the Seven Kingdoms have ever known.”

“I’ll do my best, momma.” I smiled down at her, throwing my arms around her neck and she hugged me back.

Turning around on my feet I sucked in a very sharp breath lowering my body down onto the cold chair of old swords. Tapping my fingers on the armrests I winced slightly recalling how many times my father had nicked his hands on the blades and drew blood almost every day. “I’ve lost count on how many times he cut himself on the throne.” Shifting my gaze upward my violet eyes landed on a set of green eyes I knew better than anyone else.

“Jaime - I was beginning to think that I’d lost you.” I released a sharp gasp bolting up from the seat and down the steps as fast as my feet could carry me.

My husband quickly made his way into the center of the room catching my body after I nearly tackled him to the hard floor underneath our feet. Wrapping my arms and legs tightly around his body he buried his nose into my messy hair. “I was terrified that something had happened. Ohh, I’m just relieved you’re okay Vaella.”

“Jaime, um - there’s something you should know.” I broke away from our embrace, running my hands up and down his forearms.

He raised a brow at me. “What happened, Vae?”

“Cersei’s dead and she had one of the Ironborn shoot down Luciya.” I nervously gulped feeling tears welling in my eyes.

Jaime’s protective mode came to the surface where he grasped my hand in his left. “Let’s go find her now.” Together we ran toward the doors moving outside as quickly as we humanly could manage.

[kate-bridgerton]

QUEEN ARYA STARK, KING AEGON VI TARGARYEN, AND THE PRINCESSES ALYSANNE AND VISENYA by the fabulously talented @anzukero

The babes were as different as the silvery stars and the dark night sky that held them. Alysanne had come screaming into the world first, silver-gold wisps of hair caked in blood, gray eyes glaring in fury at being forced out of the only home she had known for the past nine moons. The silver princess, the ladies around them dubbed her. Visenya came as a terrifying surprise. No sooner had her sister been cleaned, inspected, and approved of than the tremors of childbirth came upon Arya again. Were it not for the terror and confusion, she might have said the second labor was easier than the first as this babe slipped out far more quickly. Where her sister was fair, Visenya was dark. A tuft of brown hair crowned the little head and her violet eyes searched the world around them, all curiosity. Arya knew it was stupid, but as she began to recover from the ordeal, the queen loved watching the pair dozing together. She loved that almost as much as the sight of Aegon carefully cradling one or both of them in his arms. Nymeria doted on them too, nudging them with her nose and -- to the alarm of the wet nurses, rockers, and attendants -- often sleeping beside their cradles. Oh! And the way they turned their little heads -- as much as they were able -- at the sound of Arya's voice when she came to visit them in the nursery! The arrival of two princesses rather than one prince wasn’t initially as joyful for everyone as Arya had wished. In fact, the response had left her furious. But the fiery birth of another trio mere days later sweetened the twins’ arrival. Indeed, the two sets of births seemed linked and widely considered fate. If only so many hadn’t had to die to make the miracle come to pass.

Travails of Dragons and Direwolves by LyaStark || In Another Westeros