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meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender · 4 months ago

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Summary: When the god of the Winter needed a messenger, he had chosen you. Yet your elders wanted you dead. But John Price, the god of the Winter, had other plans for his devotee. Eventual Poly 141.

A/N: Leaving this here, then backing away slowly. If you like, please comment and reblog. Special thanks to @itsagrimm for editing, even though you aren't into the type of writing. Thank you to @ethereal-night-fairy and @wildflower-and-honey for feeding my brain worms. I love you three and cannot thank y'all enough <3 Thank you, @saradika, for your beautiful dividers that I use in literally everything.

CW: (18+) Children begone! PIV smut, swearing, a Dyslexic wrote this, Religious Kinks, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of hypothetical pregnancy because what is John Price without a breeding kink? Voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise kink, elements of paranoia, and mindreader elements.

NO AI

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You had been abandoned. Sent aimlessly into the east by your deceiving elders to find the oh-so-benevolent god of Winter. Your people had discarded you, and perhaps, you had now been forsaken by the Holy One. Under the new winter moon, you had no bearing in these strange woods. You were lost and without hope. Stumbling into a thicket, you paused, catching your breath. Once your village elders cut your binds and removed the blade from your still bleeding throat, you ran. You had three options now: find the Winter God John Price and beg for mercy, return home to your village to die by your elder’s blade, or finally, die by a frozen death.

Yanking down the sleeves of your dress, you shivered. Only a fool would think the thin lace would be enough to fight the cold. You hadn’t bothered to ask for a cape when you would be dead come dawn by the blade of your elders or the mercy of winter’s chill. Besides, if the elders thought it could help entice the winter god closer to you, you welcomed the possibility. The god liked fine things- the fragility of ice coating sleeping trees, the nuanced tendrils that composed a snowflake, the finespun embroidery on an altar cloth. Perhaps the gossamer lace of your gown would make you look as alluring as snow?

Your village worshiped the god of the East along with his three other seasonal counterparts. In the winter, the altar faced east for John. In the spring, it faced north for Kyle. In the summer, the altar faced west for Johnny, followed by facing south in the Autumn for the one they called Ghost. You traversed the mezzanine of the aged temple as if it was your birthing ground, dedicating yourself to the unknown and to what divine vexed within.

A creature howled in the far distance, three more joining in the call. You wished you had a blade for protection, but the foolish elders would not allow it after the last messenger sent to find the God of Winter killed himself. He died from fear of the gods with his body left for the animals starved for winter scraps according to the elders. The collapsed skull and bloodied rock meant otherwise. You would become like the warrior- murdered- if you didn’t keep moving.

At least you’d be dead if you stopped moving, and wasn’t that something to rejoice over for the elders? They wanted you gone the moment you opened your mouth, defending the holy temples in a burning righteousness against their infidelity. The elders mocked your faith, staging a spectacle to rejoice in their perceived standings with the holy gods, to enshroud their continued greed of village resources, and holy temple offerings while preventing you from stepping foot inside the sacred temple.

All you wanted was to worship your gods in peace and for your village to know that peace.

A branch snapped in the distance. Setting your foot down ever so quietly, you glared into the darkness of the night. In your chest, your lungs froze as if a tiny breath could lead starving beasts toward you, but your heart tapped a wild rhythm against your bones like a war drum urging warriors forward in battle. Between the bones of the trees, a figure raised from the ground. Dirt quaked in its path, fearing the disturbance as flashes of odd whites and black wove into a tall, hulking beast emerging like smoke. The vaporous monster inhaled. It was as if he sucked the forest in with his expanding breath, the conductor of the skeletal structure of the land. The one who assembled appendages of bone like armor and crown, marking his distinct otherness to any creature known before. Opening his eyes, bright gold light flared from its eye sockets, a perpetual fire, locked on burning you alive.

You ran. Barreling through the underbrush, thorns cut and tore at your dress, slowing you down. Pushing deeper into the woods, you dared not glimpse back at the monstrous shape. The gods, you prayed, would give one last indulgence by sparing your life. Dodging fallen trees and saplings, you heaved for a breath. Your toe caught on something sending you tumbling forward, down the hill, to be stopped by a mangled stump. There was little to be felt from the roar in your mind and blood careening to endure, to run, to survive.

Looking up, the terrifying haint peered down at you with its head tilted to the side, lazily biding his time hunting you. Fleeing, you made way towards the river that supplied the village with water. The monsters couldn’t cross the running water at the bottom of the ravine. Everybody knew that. Your breath created puffs of smoke with each gasp of air, streaming from your lips like a dragon’s purr.

Down at the river, you paused, cursing at your luck. The river was frozen over, but how deep the ice went was beyond you. You had to cross, fighting for a chance at life and to find John Price to appeal for assistance proving your claims. Taking a deep breath, you ventured on the ice, straining your ears for cracking and shifting sounds. Freedom sang like a siren from the other side of the waters with the promise of faith delivering you into her hands. On the other side was an assurance of one more day in your beloved temples with the beloved gods, of life, and of being free from the elders.

Without the freedom to roam the holy grounds of faith, what would be left for you?

You slipped with a screech, flailing until you caught your balance. Your hands trembled as breath fogged the air. Crossing was the only option, regardless of death prowling down to find you. The thought of the being sent shivers down your spine, and you squeezed your eyes shut as if it would banish the evil and push you across the waters.

“Stop!” A man bellowed like thunder echoing in the ravine. You jumped, slipping on the ice. With an assured crack, the ice broke, plunging you into the icy waters.

You gasped, choking on river water. Kicking to the surface, you were met with a ceiling of ice. You hit the ice with your hand to no prevail until the bubbles from your nose dissipated and a film of darkness descended upon your peripherals. In the gloom, eyes of golden fire shimmered at you, refracted by the ice, illuminated by the flash of lightning.

It smelled like oak and spices as you inhaled. The bed you laid in was spacious, a soft luxury you sunk greedily into. Moments of time slowly returned to you as you stirred, until a tapestry unfolded, painting what had occurred in the woods to you. How you had survived drowning or hypothermia was beyond you, feeling none of it, now. Cocooned tightly in thick blankets, albeit naked as the day you were born, sleep still called in the comfort of the home. A warm crackle of a fireplace and the deep mutterings of men speaking filled your ears as you blinked. In your nest, you buried further in, savoring the needed heat with a sigh with your eyes peeking over the cover.

The two men, seated in the corner, had stopped conversing to stare at you. One was slim but muscular, with dark skin and shining brown eyes. He wore a grin both authentic and sly as if mischief personified, waiting for his time to strike and laugh at your mild misfortune.

The other man was a bear. Thick, burly, legs with sizable thighs spread to consume room; it seemed all he did was call attention to himself. The cocky spread of his legs to the icy blues of his eyes; your neck burned as he smirked, having caught you staring.

“Hello, Fawn,” The bear rumbled, intentionally softening his voice and leaning down as if afraid to spook you like the little deer.

“Ghost found you,” injected the younger one. “It took him and Soap to pull you from the ice and bring you home. That was pretty stupid; getting on the ice like that. Haven’t people told you not to do that?”

Getting on the ice was stupid, but letting yourself get consumed and murdered by a beast was even worse. You had half a mind to tell the younger man your thoughts on the matter, but here you were, naked in a stranger's bed… alive. While grateful, you needed to leave. The task to find John and plead for his assistance in clearing the village of your awful elders still loomed, as did the precarious nature of being nude in a room of two strong men.

“I’m looking for someone,” You mumbled. “I had no choice.”

“I know,” The older man hummed before speaking your name like a whisper of wind on your ear.

The God of Winter . Your spine went straight before you bolted upright, clinging the blankets to your chest. These men were not men at all but your four holy gods. There was half a mind to shuck off the blankets and fall to your knees in reverence. You had offered prayers while bathing before; was this any different? As you shifted, apologized, and begged for pardons on the tip of your lips, John shook his head and stood.

“Gaz, go let Soap and Ghost know our fawn is all right,” John said, clasping Gaz on the shoulder. Gaz promptly left the room, closing the wooden door behind him, not before offering you one final comforting grin.

“I am sorry. I had to find you. The elders sent me to the woods to murder me. And… I didn’t know what else to do but to seek your help. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. The elders are murdering anyone who dares question them. Nobody believes me even though I have proof! The village will not survive the winter because of our elder’s theft from them and of the temple and I need your help. I have done nothing wrong except be loyal to you, John,” You rushed out in a single breath. “Please, help me. Help us .”

John set his hand on your cheek, running his thumb over your warming cheeks. A violent shiver sprung through your body, encouraging you closer to the god. You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his palm, lulled by the smell of spices and the alluringness of being physically held by him. Finally, you had removed the burden of secrecy and responsibility and John took it lightly with his hands soothing the ache from your skin with the glide of his fingers.

“Love, you’re being too harsh. There is no reason to apologize,” He reassured you with a kiss on your forehead. “The fault lies with your elders. You have done all I have asked of you and more. Do not agonize yourself over the stubbornness of others. It will get you nowhere.”

You closed your mouth and held his wrist, keeping him to you. You thought of all your nights spent praying to the god of Winter when sleep evaded you. When you screamed or cried your prayers in agony, begging the divine god of winter to make himself known to you so that your faith was not in vain and your people could be free from the elders.

But what of your people? What choice would they make? The old gods were worshiped only in tradition and the elders had slowly pushed your people further from the gods as the temple began to deteriorate.

You were always dedicated to the divine in odd ways. Observant gifts of John’s favorite flowers and drinks were left on your homemade altar—prayers written on little papers in a box. Spare time spent tending to the aged temple and cleaning it, preparing it for worship. Devotion in wearing John’s favorite color as a ribbon around your wrist, bearing his color like a mark of ownership over you.

It was… your stomach clenched as you remembered bathing in his favorite fragrances, the soap trailing between your breasts, water falling as gracefully as the curves of your skin, for his solstice day. Later that night, deciding to offer John an orgasm on a lust-induced whim. When you came down from your high, you swore you could feel the divine by your knees, looking down at the mess you had made, dribbling into the sheets. The idea of him voyeuring into your bedroom made you leak, reaching a bold hand down to part your lips for him to see your swollen clit.

“What you want from us, little Fawn,” John tilted his chin to look you in the eyes as his warm toned voice dipped between your thighs to make them clench. “Comes at a high cost for you.”

“And let my people suffer from the elder’s greed? Surely, you understand how harsh winter can be! And to let the gods lay waste when this is proof you still are near has to be blasphemy. I don’t want to die, but I’d rather try dying than be left bystanding in silence, rotting away-”

John took your neck in hand and hulled you to your feet. Your words died on your tongue as his nose pressed into your cheek. Chests pressed together, his human form radiated heat and softness protecting layers of muscle and power. You wondered briefly if his divine form would look more bear or beast, unleashing the thrum of calculated energy pulsing inside the god.

“Fawn, martyrdom is for suicidal fools. Not even the martyrs ask for their portion, they stumble upon it trying to uphold the will of the gods which threatens the portions and powers that be in your mortal world,” John shook your head ever so slightly, pressing closer until you gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. Dark as ice, they pierced into you flickering from your eyes to your mouth, the urgency he held you with inching into territories you were unsure of but eager to explore. His eyes flickered down for a moment, and you shivered at your exposure, pressing your face into his neck as if to hide. “You will stay the night but come dawn, you must return home to live for us.” John instructed, pushing your hair from your neck. Leaning down, he nipped the bottom of your ear playfully, kissing along your neck.

You hummed, offering your neck to his lips. It didn’t matter if you had laid with a million other people before or none at all. You yearned for the assured solidity of the gods, and now you had it. They could have your body, the works of your hands, the words of your mouth, the paths of your feet. You only wanted to be near John, safe, nestled into his side, even if for a little while. To be welcomed into the god of winter’s bed for even a night? The idea made your thighs slickened with want, heat pooling in your stomach.

Everything in your bones wanted to please him, to let him have his fill of you, to honor him with the best of your skin and body. You’d get on your knees for him. Suck his cock until you are panting, with his cum on your tongue. You wanted to be good . You let out a little whine, a soft vibration in your throat. John chuckled, coming up from your throat to kiss you properly, all while moving you on the bed.

He kissed down your throat, gently touching your chest with the hints of friction making you squirm, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I want you to soak my fingers and cock with this pretty cunt tonight, Fawn” John decidedly spoke. You eagerly nodded, humming as his hand squeezed the fat of your stomach.

You opened your thighs as he descended between them, grinning as he knelt before you. You could have laughed at his eagerness if it wasn’t for the gentle, inquiring sweep of his finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. A sigh fell from your lips as he played with your cunt, a pleasant warmth filling your mind as your legs found a home on his shoulders, your hand on the back of his neck, scratching the short hairs there.

“Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy since you showed her to me,” John growled, thumb swirling on your clit just as you had when you played yourself for him. Your knees bent, pushing your pelvis to catch the angle just right . “Offered me use of your body, a delicacy, to use as I please. Perfect little human for me to fuck whenever,” He growled before putting his mouth to work, sucking on your clit.

You keened, bucking your cunt into his face. John devoured you whole, feasted on you, your head in the clouds, floating with nothing to tether you but his mouth. The god of winter’s fingers prodded your entrance, slipping in with a slight stretch. His fucking hands, reaching depths you could never achieve on your own, made you moan, opening your eyes to watch him. From below your stomach, John was fully committed, eyes closed, grunting against your cunt.

John fought against your legs, drawing out the pulsing waves of pleasure until your ears were ringing, vision white, cresting into a beautiful brainless hum as your body went limp.

“Fuck, John, I can’t,” You whimpered, pushing his forehead back. Your chest heaved, hands grasping for anything you could reach until he slid his hand in yours, anchoring you to him. He moved, and you closed your sticky thighs, clenching at the slick dribbling down. John reverently kissed your collarbone, hands brushing over your scalp, lulling you from the cloudy space.

His lips kissed along your neck and chest as his hands wandered along your hips and thighs, rough fingers tickling the sensitive skin of your ass. Your eyes opened, greeted by his gentle gaze as he hovered over you. His mouth had been pinkened by your cunt, hair mused by your thighs and hands.

Grabbing his hand, you kissed his palm before licking the fingers that had been inside of you moments before. Something was intoxicating about the way you tasted, strong and delicious. Taking his fingers in your mouth, you hummed, thinking about how much thicker his cock would feel. John swore, pushing his fingers against your tongue, stilling your control. You moaned, letting your eyes close and legs fall open. Holding his arm, you could feel how your tits were pressed together by your biceps, making you not only a sight but a spectacle .

“Want my cock that bad, little fawn?” John teased. Opening your eyes, you nodded, nudging him closer with your foot. Removing his fingers, he drug his hand down your centerline, leaving a cold trail of your spit down your body. He slowly entered you, grunting with his eyes glued to the way you sucked him in.

“Fuck, John,” You whimpered, panting at the fullness pressing you open. His thumb rubbed your clit, lulling you back to another orgasm. Spreading your legs, he placed a knee on the bed as he began to thrust, covering his cock in your frothy slick.

It was hot and so, so full as he reached parts of you that had you gasping for air and tearing up. There was no pinch, only a subtle burn from the stretch, soothed by his cooing in your ear and thumb working wonders on your clit. Shifting his hips, he fed you more of his cock, making your vision go frayed around the edges. If your brain could leak away, it would slowly leak out with the wetness of your cunt.

“Just like that, fawn,” John encouraged, making you clench around him. “My little offering to take as I want, letting me use you like a good girl,” John grunted as you clenched around him, his hands falling to your stomach and hip, selfishly grasping at the plush skin to pull and drag you off his cock with.

“I’m,” You whined, clawing at the god’s massive arms, rippling with movement. “Please, John! Feels so good, filled up,” You babbled, trying to run closer and further with each thrust.

His other hand laid over the base of your throat, curling possessively around, forcing your eyes to his, forehead to forehead, as he pressed and pressed into your cunt, stretching you wide and filling you perfectly.

“Pretty wet cunt, dripping for me,” John’s lips brushed your ear, moaning into it. He reached a hand to gently pinch your nipple, making you gasp. “Rub yourself for me. Let me see you soak my cock.”

You slid a hand between your thighs and rubbed your clit, spreading your lips wider, feeling fully exposed, unable to help the moan and the chasing buck of your hips, humping the tight heat pooling in your stomach.

“Cum, love. Cum for me.”

You listened, you always did, a perfect little offering for him to use. You fought to keep your eyes open as you came, body convulsing, to show him what he had made you into. But when your fingers became too sharp, the pleasant hum of blood in your head turning into a sharp ringing, you went limp, thighs covered in slick cum as John took his final thrusts. Ropes filled you as his hand lovingly smoothed over your lower stomach. He rested his forehead on yours, panting as he lazily kissed you, his cock twitching as you warmed him.

“You okay?” John whispered from his place between your breasts as you scratched the back of his head.

“Sore,” You hissed as he slipped from you but was quickly scooped into his arms and laid across his chest. “M’tired,” You confessed, closing your eyes with a soft sigh.

You would be content to lie on his chest for the rest of time, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, wrapped in the warmth of his broad arms. Everything about you felt small compared to him; the way his hands engulfed yours, the way your calves had laid over his shoulder, the ripple of muscles and fat as he had fucked you.

“I need to clean up,” You mumbled, fingers following the lines of his pectorals.

“In a moment, darling. We’ll both clean up.” John kissed the top of your head, reaching for a glass of water for you to drink from before he took a few sips.

The god of Winter leaned down and kissed you so gently, soothing the aches with gentle hands against your thighs. Though, you felt it was more an excuse to touch your thighs more, but you didn’t mind. After cleaning up, you fell asleep swiftly, draped over his chest as his fingers traced dainty traces of snowflakes along your spine, tended to and protected.

In the morning, you woke in your own bed, dressed in the robes of a high priestess, as someone pounded on your door. As you rose, you felt the phantom aches of the previous night between your thighs. Quickly hiding the robes, you caught the white scars of John’s handprint over your womb, etched like silver ice into your skin.

“One second!” You yelled, dressing. Once you were decent, you threw open your door and gawked.

“There’s been a war party! They burnt the elder’s homes and the wheat stores! We need help!” The man took you by the arm and pulled you into the fray of dark smoke against the blooming pink winter sky. It was snowing, melting into water that slid down your arm and into the frosted grounds.

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 4 months ago

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Snow Drop Part. 6

Description: After an intruder at Dragonstone proves Y/N's loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra, Jacaerys must protect both his mother and his Lady. When his lady starts to distance herself from him, he must convince her of the sincerity of his love for her.

Warnings: None. Female reader.

Jacaerys had sought to convey through his eyes his desperate plea that his love hear his supplication for her hand, but promptly gave in when he met her own equally pleading gaze. Her urgent attempt to remove herself from his presence when he had attempted it had convinced him that she knew what he would have asked and that she would reject his love. Whilst the thought was inexpressibly painful to him, he would not enforce his suit upon her if it was so unacceptable to her. With a heavy heart, pain constricting his chest, he attempted to convey the love he felt for her into the placement of her flower in her hair and in his kiss to her hand, fearing it would be the last time she would allow him to do so. Steeling himself so that the true desperation and despondency he felt would not be visible on his features, he promptly left the room. He had been right to fear that she would never return his love for her and he knew not how to confront the reality that he would never be able to marry the woman he loved. With such heavy thoughts to plague him, he did not find solace in sleep that night, although his attempt was loudly disrupted by the rough voice of his guard speaking to someone on the other side of the door. He listened intently for the sound of the other person's voice, so much softer and quieter than his guard's, unable to make it out. Rising from his reclined position, still dressed with his cloak on, he approached the door and was alarmed to hear the following exchange.

"I will repeat only one more time that you have no leave to speak to the Prince. You have a nerve even requesting an audience. Begone girl!"

A soft, tremulous voice spoke up, one he would have recognized anywhere.

"Please, I must speak with the Prince now, his mother is in danger!"

Hearing the frightened voice of his love and that his mother was in peril, Jacaerys quickly opened the door to be met with the tear-streaked face of his lady, cowering away from his guard.

Physically pushing his guard away from her by the chest, and positioning himself in between the two, he spoke dangerously, through gritted teeth to him.

"A member of my mother's household asks to have an audience with her Prince to inform him of the Queen's peril and you rebuke her for it. I would not think a member of the Queen's Guard so lax in his duty. Get to the Queen, now!"

The guard looked momentarily shocked and chastened, looking between the Prince and the maid, before quickly turning on his heel in the direction of the Queen's apartments.

Jacaerys whipped around to face his lady, taking hold of her shoulders with gentle hands as he lowered his head to meet her gaze.

"My love, what has befallen the Queen and where can she be found? I ask you to speak quickly and clearly, if you can."

Nodding jerkily, still in tears which tore at his heartstrings, she spoke concisely.

"She is in her room. An intruder knight attacked her. He was killed by his brother and the Queen is with her knights now. I heard the noises and saw the Queen's maid fleeing from the room. I came to get you as soon as I heard."

Realising that his mother was no longer in immediate peril, he pulled Y/N to his chest and kissed the top of her forehead, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders to lead her gently into his room. He led her to an armchair and she sat without question, seemingly in too much shock to protest. He bent down to her level to gently help her to lean back against the chair, before removing his cloak and placing it around her. He rose again to the table, quickly returning with a goblet of wine, which he placed in her hand.

"Rest here, my love, and I will return as soon as I can, once I have made sure that my mother is well. You will be safe here. Sip the wine, it is good for the shock."

He rose to leave, reluctant though he was to leave her alone in such a state, but she quickly grabbed his hand, a look of fear on her face.

He lowered himself to her eye level again, speaking coaxingly.

"I promise that you are safe, here, there are two more guards down the passage and I will order both to stand guard here. I will return forthwith."

Seeing the necessity of his departure, she nodded, reluctantly releasing her grip on his. Seeing that she still trembled, he held her head gently in both his hands and placed a soft kiss to her forehead before departing from the room and running in the direction of the Queen's chambers.

Jacaerys ran back to his rooms after first assuring himself that his mother was safe and comforting her, incensed that she had been placed in harm's way. He blamed himself for not having been there and a review of the security arrangements for the Queen would be the first order of business he would present at tomorrow's Council. At this moment, however, his priority was to comfort his frightened, brave lady who had come to warn him of his mother's peril, at great risk to herself. He felt his love grow for her, if it was possible, to an even greater extent, filling his whole heart with her image. Approaching his door, he thanked the two guards for their service and ordered them to return to their positions along the hall. He had no need of them now, since he would be the one to protect his love, should it come to it. Tentatively opening the door, so as not to frighten her, he was distressed to hear her still cry out in fright.

He hastily moved into the room so that she would know it was only him, and not another intruder, hastening towards her. "It is only me, my love. You have nothing to fear, the intruder is no longer a threat and my mother is safe. You are perfectly safe with me, I will stand between you and any threat."

He lowered himself on one knee before her, again, brushing the hair back from her face, as he took hold of both of her hands. He met her gaze with a look of adoration and awe at the bravery she had shown in coming to warn him of his mother's peril.

"Thank you for what you have done this night, my brave girl."

He was saddened to see the look of fear she still bore, almost like a deer, and he felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness towards her at the sight. Dragonstone was a dark, ill-fated place for one so gentle and pure, but that was all the more reason for him to be her protector. Her face crumpled as tears welled, once again, behind her eyes and he lifted his arms out to her before thinking better of it. To his surprise, she immediately bent forward to meet his arms, and he wrapped them around her frame, holding her protectively to his chest as she cried. He spoke soft assurances that he was there and that she was safe into her ear, holding her until her breathing had calmed and she had ceased crying. As she removed himself from his hold, he found himself bemoaning the loss of contact, but was relieved to see that she was becoming calmer.

"I should return to my room, it would no do to be seen leaving the Prince's chambers at such a late hour. People will talk"

"They will do so only if they no longer require the use of their tongues. I will see you back to your chambers." Seeing that she meant to protest, he added with a small smile, "that is not a request."

He took hold of both of her elbows to raise her to stand, before wrapping her arm around the crook of his to lead her back to her chambers. Whilst the bastard traitor who had attacked his mother had been apprehended and despatched, he did not trust to leave his lady to return to her chambers alone, unprotected. He left her right outside her door, the hour being close to dawn, and no one being awake to see them

Cupping her cheek reassuringly, he spoke in a gentle tone. "Get some rest, and do not attend to your duties tomorrow. I will speak with the matron. Do not be afraid, I will have an extra guard placed outside the servants' quarters and you can come to me if you are frightened. I will remain close by. No harm will befall you or anyone else in the castle, I swear it." Pulling her to him to embrace her once more, stroking the back of her head, he gently led her to her door, only leaving once she had shut it behind him. Even after posting another guard at the entrance to the hall where his lady's chambers were, he was reluctant to leave her but contented himself with the thought that he would remain close by, should she need him and seek him out.

Y/N had succeeded in having only a fitful rest, tossing and turning over the events of that night. Once the fear and the shock had left her, she was left feeling a little embarrassed at how she had clung to the Prince in her distress the night before. She comforted herself with the thought that he hadn't seemed to mind, and had even gone out of his way to comfort her and make her feel safe. She had not thought much of it in the moment, so alarmed was she, but her mind now turned repeatedly to the Prince calling her his love, and her cheeks heated at the thought. The more she thought on it, the more convinced she became that the Prince's feelings for her were genuine, but she could hardly believe that he meant to marry a mere servant girl. It was this thought that had led her to interrupt the Prince when he had knelt before her, fearing that she would not be able to prevent herself from falling into his arms if he professed his feelings for her. The thought sobered her and was a reminder that she could not allow herself to be so familiar with the Prince again, lest he should think that she reciprocated his feelings for her. It did not matter if she did, if they could never be together. Unable to sit alone with her thoughts any longer, she began to dress in readiness to resume her daily duties, in spite of the Prince's order that she abscond from them that day. It would be better to distract herself, rather than dwell on the impossibility of her love for the Prince ever being returned.

Prince Jacaerys had had an equally restless night, as he had been intermittently patrolling the halls near his mother's apartments and near the servants' quarters, after first having spoken to the head of the Queen's guard to ascertain how the breach in security had occurred. He could not sleep when both his mother and his love's safety were at stake. He spent the majority of the morning in the Council chamber, discussing plans for implementing heightened security at Dragonstone. His mind continued to wander, as the Lords around the table argued, to thoughts of his lady: if she had managed to rest after the shock she had experienced the night before, or if she had been too afraid. This thought had him clenching his jaw in frustration at the bickering of the Lords around him. He should be comforting his lady right now and reassuring her of his protection, having first settled upon increased security plans for his mother, but they were all more concerned with promoting their own agendas than that of the Queen's protection. He hoped that his lady was resting well now. Forcefully turning his thoughts back to the present moment, he contented himself with the thought that he would check in on her later.

Hours later, Prince Jacaerys sat at a table in the library, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his lady. When he had enquired as to her whereabouts with the matron, he was surprised and alarmed to find that she had decided to carry out her duties, in spite of his urge that she rest. She was certainly headstrong, a quality she may find useful as his Princess, if she was to rule over the Seven Kingdoms at his side. He found his lip upturning at the thought. The tread of light footsteps had him stumbling to his feet however, as he saw his lady walking towards her and he strode to meet her. Taking hold of her elbows in his hands, he lowered his face to search her eyes for any sign of distress from the events of the previous evening. He was relieved to see that she appeared calm, although he frowned at the dark circles forming crescents underneath her eyes, and the pale pallor of her skin. Sighing, he raised his hand to affectionately brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, before lightly stroking her cheek with his knuckles.

"I had thought you would listen to your Prince's entreaty that you get some rest. I see I was clearly mistaken in that. Are you well, my Lady?"

He quickly dropped his hand, however, when she took a step away from him. Frowning, he realised that she must have found his affectionate gesture displeasing. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, though it pained him to think that his presence did so, he took a step back of his own. Perhaps it was presumptuous of him to hope that her allowing him to hold and comfort her the previous night would mean that she was beginning to open her heart to him.

"I am well, my Prince. I only came to thank you for your protection and kindness towards me last night. I do hope that the Queen is recovering."

He bristled inwardly at the cold formality he detected in her voice, as if she were trying to place a distance between them.

"Thank you for your concern, as regards the Queen. I assure you that my mother is well and I have seen to her enhanced security. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for your actions last night. There is no need for you to thank me. I will always protect you, if you will permit me..." He stopped mid-speech as she raised a palm up.

"Thank you, my Prince. I will bid you good night." Saying this, she curtseyed before turning to leave abruptly, walking at a brisk pace away from him.

A look of alarm crossed his features at this. Did she really mean to leave so soon. What had he done to offend her so? Before he could think better of it, he began to follow her.

"My Lady, have I offended you in some way for you to be so distant. May I not at least escort you back to your chambers?"

She sidestepped his attempt to step in front of her, continuing to walk away from him, though she politely declined his offer.

"That will not be necessary, my Prince. I thank you for your kind offer, but I would prefer to be alone."

Y/N tried to ignore the pain that arose in her own chest at the disconsolate expression of the Prince at her words, as he stopped following her, and his head dropped downwards.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she continued to walk determinedly in the direction of her chambers before she heard him speak in a soft, broken voice she had never heard from him before.

"If my love for you is really so displeasing to you, my suit for your hand so distressing, I will decease immediately, my Lady. I apologise for having disturbed your peace." His tone was contrite, and as he looked up to meet her gaze, she could have sworn his eyes glistened with unshed tears. His words had caused her heart to stutter at his profession of love for her. She had not been expecting him to be so direct, even though she had suspected he held some regard for her. She had not been expecting him to intimate a proposal of marriage, and her heart leapt into her chest at the suggestion now. It took a great deal of restraint not to break her resolve and run into his arms, as he said it. She bolstered her resolve, a memory of having trusted another man's vow of love and marriage to her before acting like a cold hand, extinguishing the warmth growing in her heart. The man before her was a Prince and, no matter how genuine his regard for her or how true his intentions were, it was madness to think that he could or would ultimately marry her. No, she would never be so foolish again. She turned fully back to him to break her own heart.

"I do not think it appropriate for you and I to continue to meet in the library, my Prince. I...I thank you for your kindness towards me, but I must remind you that you are a Prince and I am only a servant girl. I am no Lady, for you to be making such speeches to."

His expression underwent several changes as she spoke, from pained to resigned and finally determined, as a spark lit behind his eyes. He took slow, measured steps towards her, as if approaching a frightened deer who could startle and flee from him at any moment.

"Is that your cause for concern, that I am not serious in my intentions towards you, my love for you impure? I assure you, my Love, that I have only ever seen you as the Lady you are. I would have you accept my solemn promise of love and protection towards you as my wife and Princess. I offer myself to you as your husband."

Lost in a daze at his words, Prince Jacaerys had stopped right before Y/N, looking adoringly into her eyes before she processed how close he had come, or how he had enclosed both of her hands in his. As she met his gaze, she was stunned at the look of almost reverence she saw behind his eyes, and she nearly gave into her desire to believe his words and assure him that she felt the same for him. A painful memory arose in her mind, once again, to dampen such a desire, and she reluctantly withdrew her hands from his and stepped away from him. His face fell as she did so into a look of utter despair before he turned his head towards the floor, and drew in a sharp intake of breath. A moment later he met her gaze again, nodding as if in resignation, before bowing respectfully to her.

"I understand, my Lady. I will not intrude my presence upon yours a moment longer."

With a pained expression as he looked at his love one last time, resolving to give her the space away from him she seemed so desirous of placing between them, he turned on his heel down the hall.

Y/N's lip wobbled and her eyes welled as she watched him leave, but she steeled herself, repressing a sob as she turned to make her way back to the servants' quarters. She tried to remind herself that she had done the right thing for both of them, even as each step she took away from him had her feeling like she was falling into a chasm she would not be able to lift herself out of.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #prince jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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thelustybraavosimaid · 9 months ago

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I know I talk about it a lot, but it's the heart and home stuff that really gives me pause in regards to how much Jon and Arya mean to one another. It's not just the comparisons between Ygritte and Arya, or Arya constantly being on Jon's mind and vice versa, or even the fact that George intended for the two of them to dream of each other, but that she's called a dark heart and he calls his own heart black.

"You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!" (Arya VIII, ASoS)

There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard's heart.

...

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?"

"Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly…" (Jon VI, ADwD)

But the dark heart has another significance as well—it's a connector to Rhaegar. Robert said Rhaegar had a black heart and yet the one who made him happy enough to label the tower the tower of joy was Lyanna, who is very much so Arya's precursor.

It's the connections. They are fascinating.

#jonrya #needleheart #asoiaf #but it's also like #why include those?#we as the readers understand through their thoughts and actions that they are close and have always been close #there was no real need to put the heart and home stuff in there #so that's doubly interesting to me #jon snow #arya stark

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peacheises · 1 year ago

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You had a stressful day and needed rest the second you got home. Kicking off your heavy snow boots and tossing your thick winter coat into the closet, you trudged towards your shared bedroom. You curled up in your plush blankets and let you heavy eyelids close.

You feel the bed shift to your right, so granting the offender of your peace the grace of your acknowledgement you open a single eye. Your husband, Lyney, was laying next to you and smiling softly, only a small hint of mischief glimmered in his cat-like, violet eyes.

He reaches out for you and you accept, being tugged into his above average temperature embrace. He nestles himself into the crook of your next as heat radiates off of him; perfect for a cold winter day like today. You sigh into him and deflate so literally you could feel the stress evaporating from your body.

His breathing was soft but sturdy, and his heartbeat was strong and healthy, yet, calm and relaxed. His chest vibrated softly as purrs so quiet if you breathed too loudly you could miss them were emitted from it. His left hand rubbed your back gently and the right cupped your head, fingers carding through your hair.

In the safety of the walls of your shared home, wrapped in the blankets of your shared bed, safely ensconced in your shared love, you could finally let you nerves calm and the woes of your day begone.

#adelita writes #lyney x reader #genshin lyney #lyney #soft lyney

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kuqisaki · 1 year ago

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tetchou suehiro — ep.56 at the port in the sky pt.2

evil begone. plum blossoms in the snow!

#tetchou suehiro #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsdedit #animangahive #animangaboys #fyanimegifs #anisource #userrsun #skyehi #usersophies #userjenny #*mine #*gifs

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vonlipvig · 9 months ago

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the thing with turnabout big top is that, while it's never gonna be a top tier case no matter how much you rewrite it, literally just changing the characters' ages slightly can make it actually bearable. cause it has things that could be good! the sheltered circus kid, the revenge plot gone wrong, the kind but ultimately cruel murderer...it's interesting! but the dumbass ages just coats it all in a disgusting, ugly way that is impossible to enjoy.

like, just do this: make regina 18/19 (she can be an adult and still be sheltered and naive), same with bat, make max 20 if you want to switch it up a bit. the only thing that has to be majorly reworked is ben, i think the romantic story there is unnecessary (quick fix: regina ends up making fun of ben's act in her usual regina way--not realizing that she's being mean and dismissive, to her she's just being constructive and helpful--and ben is obviously pissed, but he's too shy to actually speak up, so trilo ends up being his angrier, combative side. he's also pissed with max because he backed regina up, the fight ensues, etc, ben ends up out in the snow because trilo wants to 'give regina a piece of his mind', boom. there. creep begone).

and that's it! magically the weird shit is gone! sure, the case is still annoying, moe will get on your nerves, the mechanics of the murder are still too far-fetched...but was it THAT HARD to make it bearable?

#ace attorney #turnabout big top #i make this same post every three years or so but GOD what a frustrating case #cause acro is actually a very compelling character...IF you ignore that his brother was 22 going after a 26yo girl #alas! not all cases are winners!

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snow-blower · 2 months ago

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3lisia's Intro Page !!

Blog Info —

✧⁠*•Janitor ai link

✧⁠*• Minors DNI, occasional NSFW posts ahead.

✧⁠*• I'm 19 and retaking my GCSE's, so if I don't post a lot, I'm busy tryna not fail my classes.

✧⁠*• Janitor ai requests are closed ! Please read rules here before requesting.

✧⁠*• Anti Jonsa, Jongritte, and Jonaerys. Also, if you're one of those dany stans, begone.

My Works —

✧⁠*• Fanfic and drabble Masterlist •*⁠✧⁠ ✧⁠*• Bury Me Shallow; I'll Be Back Series Masterlist - Jon Snow x OC - WIP •*⁠✧⁠

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( @bernardsbendystraws for the star dividers 🫶)

#3lisia's masterlists #3lisia's very important information #c.ai #character ai bot #c.ai bots #character ai #character.ai #game of thrones x reader #hotd x reader #janitor ai stuff and thangs #janitor.ai #janitor ai bots #janitor ai

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marytunno · 5 months ago

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-read below-

Since it’s a speculation about the future I had this… weird idea… I honestly lost hope about knowing what is going to happen in twow or ados but I asked someone that knows… ( I sang her a song, I didn’t have to kiss her btw)

HIGH HEART

Something old lingered in that place, Arya could feel it into her bones as she watched her breath turn into a small cloud fading into the night. She could hear something whispering through the trees, the leaves and the howling wind having a secret conversation, the night sky dark and menacing like a bruise, no moon, no stars, only a trembling fire casting long shadows through the camp.

Something old came from the night.

She noticed her as the figure emerged from the woods, small, long white hair almost touching the ground moving along the shadows, the flame burning slower, its light shy as the ghost approached.

Swift as a deer Arya moved from her cot, the voices turning clear as she got closer hidden like a mouse, Lem and Tom, Thoros and Beric were there too, talking with the small woman. The ghost talked about her dreams, too old for kisses and wine they said she was, dead kings, dead lords, squids, a black dog, a wolf howling in the rain… Arya felt a chill run down her spine as she tried to decode those words, riddles ancient and yet new, painting the future the ghost saw in her dreams.

A twig cracked behind Arya, she turned around startled, someone had caught her spying.

It was just Gendry, of course.

- What are you doing here?- he whispered, as if he cared about not giving Arya’s position away

- The same thing you are doing!- she snapped, her eyes still focused on the queer woman, she had red eyes like Jon’s direwolf.

He snorted and got closer - Making sure you are not running away and getting yourself killed?-

What did he care about anyway… he had chosen the brotherhood, he was the one getting himself killed, she did not care for sure.

- I don't want to speak to you…- this time she turned around to face him, glaring at him with her silver gaze.

He scowled unsure about what to do, if Arya wanted to hate him for not being her playmate forever she could suit herself, fucking highborns.

Arya focused again on the small woman, dreams of clangor and bells, a maid slaying a giant in a castle made of snow, words that made no sense to her.

- You cannot hide from me child, come into the light…-

Arya’s heart jumped in her chest, the voice of the ghost loud and adamant, a cold sensation at the base of Arya’s neck. The woman’s mouth opened in what once had been a smile but now resembled more a grimace, like the ones painted on mummers’ and actors’ masks.

Arya was no craven, she was brave like a wolf, she was not afraid and so she stepped from her hiding spot, Lord Beric looking at her with an indecipherable expression.

The woman studied her, her red eyes seeing inside Arya, burning through her skin. Arya breathed in the night air, she was not afraid, her eyes looking straight back at the ghost not allowing herself to look down.

She called her a child, a wolf child, a blood child… her old hands, in anger, or fear, or folly, closed around Arya’s arm like old bones, her nails digging into Arya’s skin.

-I thought it was the lord who smelled of death…- cried the woman

-You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need

none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!- Arya winched, the woman’s cold grip driving blood from her, something older than fear in those unnatural eyes.

- Let her go! - Gendry’s voice thundered as he took Arya from the woman.

Arya didn’t need his help, she glared at him and opened her mouth to just say so when the ghost laughed, an unnatural laugh, like a screeching of old stones, bloodchilling.

- Let the children be… there’s no harm to them…- stepped in Thoros, his face lit by his precious flames.

- Rain is coming …- the ghost stared at the sky, her milk-white hair moving with the wind, something whispering to her, something Arya could almost feel, something as old as the north talking to the small woman.

Arya took a step back bumping into Gendry, he seemed as confused as her looking at Lord Beric for an answer, an order, an explanation.

- Old faces, old curses… nothing good comes from them…- croaked the woman

- I can tell you what I know, boy, what the weirwood whispers to an old shadow… I can smell the blood in you, dangerous blood to have… I’ll tell what I know… my price a kiss… -

Instinctively Arya turned to look at Gendry, his expression still, like a deer faced with a hunter's arrow.

- What? No!- he said after a second

- Don’t you want to know what blood runs in your veins, the storms that made you, the days that were and the days that will come?- continued the old figure, grief and hunger in her whole being

-No…- continued Gendry, his hand still holding Arya’s arm

- I don’t care about your visions!- he finally said, the flame flickered again under the wind turning almost to embers, it smelled like rain.

Staring in the dark, those ancient red eyes, Arya wondered what those eyes could really see… in dreams… in the wind…through time and space… she wasn’t scared…

Arya had dreams too… wolf dreams… were those just her mind playing with her?

Were the gods trying to tell her something?

- I’ll give you your song! Let them be… or Lem will keep his promise and you’ll meet with his steel… - said Tom, not a sign of his proverbial humor in his voice

The small woman kept her stance.

- Old… so old…. what a curse… It’s been so long since I have known the warmth of a kiss… I’m nothing but old bones and old flesh… You like denying an old woman of her last pleasures… pity… I have never kissed king’s blood…-

Goosebumps on Arya’s skin, was it a curse that those who saw the future had to speak in riddles? Thoros opened his mouth as if to speak, his eyes never leaving the dying fire.

- Look in your flames pink priest… but not here… this place belongs to the old gods… not fond of your fire… you’ll see my words are right… I’m but what remains… fading like mist in the morrow…-

Arya bit her lip, she was not scared of the crone, not like Gendry or Lem or Tom or even Thoros… she was a wolf… the old gods protected her too… and so she spoke…

- I’d kiss you to know the future, what do you see? Do i get to my family?-

Tom coughed twice to hide his laugh, saying something about her being crazy.

- Are you gone stupid?- Gendry’s voice behind her, his hand still holding her in place close to him

She ignored him, he didn’t listen to her, not about the things that mattered, she was not going to listen to him.

- Please, my… - Arya had no idea how to address the small woman

- I need to know!- her mind thinking about Robb and mother in Riverrun, Jon at the wall, Winterfell and it’s walls so high and safe, the smell of home and food, she was so close, if it hadn’t been for the brotherhood she would have already reached them, she was sure.

- Ney! Stay away from me… I don’t need your sorrow… you smell of death… stay away!- thundered the crone

Arya stomped her foot on the ground, like a child throwing a tantrum, she wanted to know, she needed to know what the future was holding for her.

- I’ll stay until you talk! You’ll have to bear my smell of death until you tell me what I want!- spoke the daughter of Eddard Stark, she left Gendry behind her walking straight in front of the woman favored by the gods

The ghostly figure winced, her eyes closed, listening to the wind.

- Let her be Arya! She has already suffered a great pain! Go back with Gendry…- Lord Beric spoke

- Ney, your Grace… too late… Child… you’ll have what you ask… and may we never meet again, dark heart!-

Arya could feel the anger in the woman’s voice, the pain, but she wanted to know.

The storm was approaching, heavy clouds upon them carried by the wind, a silent lighting, no thunder.

- You are destined to great sorrows child, your tears will never dry on your face, I hear war cries, beasts howling, blood on their fangs and on the ground they run upon… and yet home gets further away… always a step out of reach… you’ll see through many eyes and yet all you’ll see will be death… I can hear waves crashing against waves as a giant welcomes you… and where the lights never go out I see darkness… death… and at the end, if someone comes home, wolf child, it’s no longer you…-

Arya’s nails were digging into her palm, she was a liar, a stupid liar like everyone she had met since leaving home!

- You’ll cry tears of blood upon stone, upon snow… I see golden eyes, silver ones too… and…-

The crone stopped for a moment, as if sniffing the air around her

- You’ll not find your family in riverrun… a different fate awaits… the twins… a promise, a vow, a wedding… you’ll never find the ones you seek…I see only death on your path beware…-

- You are a liar!- cried Arya

- I can’t change what awaits you… my eyes are not mine alone… my ears have lived a thousand different lives… If you don’t like your fate the fault is yours and of the painful road that comes… and yet… you’ll be granted something I can only dream of…-

Arya took a step back, her heart thundering in her chest, she did not care what the small woman said, she was going to get back to her family one way or another, no matter the price.

- …you’ll see spring…- the ghost spoke as if speaking a curse

- Now Begone! Away from this old bones!-

- Tom, I’ll have my song, the same one…- breathed the woman putting as much distance as possible from Arya, sitting on the ground close to the singer

- Let’s get back Arya…- Gendry’s voice almost startled her

He guided her away, their backs to the fire, a sad melody filling the air.

- And boy…- they froze in their place

- You’ll soon learn the price you’ll pay for the brothers you chose… death hanging from the same trees that you’ll hide behind… orders from a heart of stone…stone… and ice… stolen steel… you’ll find one half and mend what it’s broken… a ghost of a long lost king you’ll never love… a name you’ll never have…and I can hear voices… of whom you’ll meet and of whom you have met… and as snow falls south all roads will cross again…-

Gendry kept walking, trying to ignore those cryptic words, nothing good came of knowing one's future… for what he knew no bloody gods were whispering to the woman… and if pain and death was all she could promise it was just because they lived in a world made of those things.

- You’ll learn to listen… you’ll have the chance…sweet irony… they’ll have blue eyes… but your children will be nothing but wolves…-

The words of the woman got lost in the wind as Tom kept playing his song, the figure now only crying holding herself and rocking back and forth.

Arya cursed and kicked a rock while Gendry kept dragging her back away from the fire.

- She is a liar… she is just old and crazy and wants our wine…- spat Arya, the words she had just head haunting her mind and turning into tragedy

- Of course, Arya… Don’t believe a word she just said… no one can see the future… and who says he does is a fraud like my master said ‘bout Thoros… She did not make sense… we will take you to your mum and brother no matter what!-

Gendry tried to reason with her, looking at the anger simmering in her eyes.

- Yes… to get some gold…- she replied, cold

- I’m not doing it for the gold!- he said back

Arya said nothing and sat down in her place, her arms crossed. A light turned the sky yellow and then it bruised to black again, and as the thunder struck came rain.

Someone cursed, someone kept sleeping, only a few noticed… as she had arrived the ghost of high heart was gone… faded back to her mist and woods…

- She was right about the rain…- spat Arya feeling the cold droplets fall on her skin

Gendry snorted

- Aye, the sky was dark since noon and I’m sure even Anguy could smell the rain coming… Easy to see the future when it’s happening already… listen to me Arya… she is wrong… she doesn’t even know what she was talking about… like you heard all that bullshit ‘bout my blood or something… -

- Maybe your blood is important…- she said flatly, her skin hurting where the nails of the small woman had pierced her skin

- My blood is worth shit… if they had given her some more wine she would have started calling Lem king and Tom his sweet lady of the forest…-

The rain was pouring, Gendry’s black hair wet and sticking to his forehead, too mad to be distracted by the storm.

Arya smiled, maybe he was right, maybe the woman’s words had been that… just words…

She had cried and prayed for death, she had killed and spilled blood… and maybe her heart was dark, full of hate and she smelled of death… but her future was going to be different…

- Feel better?- he asked her after a few seconds ignoring Lord Beric’s squire complaining about the rain waking him up

She nodded.

- Now let’s find someplace dry to sleep in…- he said, the matter over.

They did not speak anymore of the words heard, not Arya’s curse to suffer and lose herself and what she loved, not the wedding at the Twins, not the eyes she was supposed to see through… they did not speak of wolf children nor the ghost’s dream of spring…

Arya thanked Gendry when he gave her a dry coat; they had found shelter together with Jack and Harwin between the trees.

- Still hate me now?- smiled Gendry stretching close enough to her

She bit her lip.

- Are you coming to Winterfell with me?-

He did not answer, but she heard all she needed to hear.

The silence hurting as much as the unspoken answers to their questions.

A troubled sleep fell on the camp, rain soaking them to the point of fever, haunted dreams in a haunted place.

All I know is future flickers, still unwritten, but if you listen to the weirwoods on a starless night, as the wind howls tales of things that will become, if you close your eyes and let the dreams come… between all the bloodshed… and the cursed thrones and heavy crowns… between ice and fire… you’ll see a winter that must be braced to once again witness spring… you’ll see some good and some bad… and if you wait long enough you’ll see two children someday meet again.

Hope you liked it <3<3 Thank you to everyone who read and a huge thank you to everyone who made beautiful works for this appreciation week, my gendrya shipper heart was very very happy.

#bookgendryaweek2024 #arya stark #gendrya #gendry #arya x gendry #asoiaf fanfic #asioaf #house stark #asoiaf edit

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