#benjicot fluff

[drmaddict]

The Mermaid of Tully

Summary: Benjicot's wife is truly a fish in water.

Wordcount: 421

People jested when he was little and was promised to the Tully girl, that he would one day marry a mermaid.

Benjicot Blackwood had just rolled his eyes and sayed that girls were disgusting.

But he had liked her. They played together and she wasn't disgusted by frogs or worms. She was actually quite interested in these little creatures.

But most of all, she could sneak away. No matter how many guards were set, she found a way. Out of the castle and into the river, where she would swim. Ever since she was a child, noone could get her out of the water. And today, when they were both grown up and married, it was still the same. No matter the weather, she went swimming. Every day.

Benjicot, who had lost his disgust for girls, loved his wife more than anything else. Their friendship had grown over the years and today they were probably the most harmonious couple, that most people knew. Which surprised most people because of Benji's nickname.

Benji was still in the land of dreams, when he was rudely torn from it. He instinctively spat out the much wetter air and turned away. He heard a laugh, as he wiped his wet face from under the covers.

"You little minx.", he grumbled in amusement.

His wife gave him a teasing look.

Her wet hair, which she had wrung out on him, was still in her hand. He shook his head with a grin.

"It's snowing (y/n).", he realised.

"And?", she asked.

He closed his eyes. "Most people would catch their death, if they went swimming in the river in weather like this."

She took off her wet clothes, as she looked at him with a grin. "But I'm the mermaid of Tully."

He smiled. "And I'm really starting to believe it. How can you never get sick doing that?"

She just shrugged, wrapped herself back into her bed clothes and put her hair up roughly.

He looked at her relaxed. He opened his arms expectantly to welcome her into them. She slipped back under the covers and slid towards him.

"By the holy mother! Woman!" he immediately groaned, pulling his thighs away from her icy feet.

She just laughed and curled up slightly. Benjicot immediately grabbed the pair of knitted stockings that lay under his pillow for just such moments and pressed them roughly into her hands.

"You're not normal.", he stated simply.

"You love me.", she simply replied.

He grinned. "I love you.", he agreed.

[skyrigel]

“Sweet nothing”

Pairing: Benjicot “davos” blackwood x fem!reader

Benji masterlist

Between war, blood and chaos, your husband founds himself running home to your sweet nothing.

Nsfw, Benji being a tease but absolutely feral for you, bath chamber hinted sex, kissing and biting, nudtidy, groping, consent is sexy, domesticated!ben, fancast! Benji.

“ Darling, did you miss me ? ” You opened your eyes to find your lord husband strolling in your bath chambers.

All the servants were walking out with their head bowed down and knowing closed smiles, Benji grinned when he caught your eye, before he trailed his gaze down at your naked body, drinking you in with a smug tug of his lips, rubbing his jaw.

“ I missed you.” you breathed, feeling your heart ache to touch him, to hold him, to breathe him in.

You were beginning to get out of water when Ben shaked his head, mouthing a 'love' before stripping off his clothes, one by one.

He was being torturous with the pace, he knew well how driven you were, your mouth agape as you saw him, so so long. He tossed his tunic, because teasing you was one of his greatest amusement, but then again, he was dying to be in your embrace and let everything mute in the background, and regardless to say how pretty you looked, like those sirens they talked about, luring him and he would, he would crawl and beg and plead and surrender, for you he was insane.

“ My lord.” you whispered, giving him that, ‘I'll never sleep with you again’ look and it only took a moment before he was stepping down in the bath, beaming.

His naked body disappearing in the mist of water, you followed his movements, his smile climbing to a grin as he reached you, taking your hand and pressing it to his chest. Beneath your palm his heart was beating for you, loud and rhythmic.

“ You have no idea how much I missed you.” you pressed a soft kiss on his chest, just near a bluish bruised wound. You hoped they were all dead, all of them who hurt him.

“ you can always give me a idea, don't you think my lady.” He pouted, sensing your worry as he lifted you chin with his finger tip, eyes sparkling with mischief, you pushed forward your hands to cup his face, needless to say about him. He was everywhere, cupping your ass cheeks to kneading your breast, pulling your waist as he placed sweet kisses all over, like a starved man and he was, a very starved man for your love, your affection, your body and all of your sweet nothings.

“ I missed this.” he bited at the crook your neck, you arched back, allowing more access.

“ And ? ” you asked because Benji liked that, liked knowing everything that swirled in your mind, to know what you thought about everything and nothing.

You couldn't see him as he was sliding down your body, open mouthed kisses all over your skin while you tugged at his soft hair, but you knew how stupidly he would have smiled.

“ And this.” he bumped his nose to your navel, looking up to meet your gaze.

“ Tell me more.” you whined, dropping your head back, Benji wrapped your legs around his waist, taking you out of the water as he laid you on the floor, climbing over you.

“ More ? ” He smiled, leaning to kiss your nose tip, then claiming your in hard embrace and clatter of souls, his lips soft and warm and sweet.

You were flushed under him, you didn't dare look between him and you because the hard length that pressed against your thigh was enough proof of how madly you drived him crazy.

Benji watched as your breath hiccuped in your throat, watching your heart swell and eyes dazed with lust, like blown back.

“say it my sweet love.” He was propped on his elbows on either side of your head, his own voice shaky, he wanted nothing less to dive inside you, take you all and leave nothing, to devour and to worship you. But he needed you to say it first. “c'mon sweetheart” He nuzzled his nose at the side of your neck, breathing in your scent, humming along.

“ yes...Ben.” you bited your lower lip as his shaft was leaking with pre cum, weakening your legs and the pressure in your pit grew, dazing your senses.

“ huh.” Ben perked up, relaxing in a smirk, pecking down your jaw as he raised one eyebrow, like he didn't listen. Bastard.

“ T-take me.” you demanded and pleaded and that was all he needed to hear, before his lips parted in a gasp, He's bloody going to moan every sweet nothing out of you. Oh, how sweet.

Navigation

[gtgbabie0]

-Benjicot Blackwood x smallfolk!reader

{The Realm seems to have spiralled into disarray, Benjicot makes promises of protecting you}

Short and sweet because I can’t help myself, Enjoy my lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The days seem much longer since the crowning of Aegon Targaryen, the Realm quickly swearing their fealty to whatever side could offer up the best deal or come across as the most threatening. Men were quick to take up swords, training all through the day and deep into the night.

Benjicot was not exempt from this, immediately following suit. Although it came naturally to him, a sword in his hand gave him a boost of confidence like you’ve never seen before and suddenly he was ready to take off into battle with an eagerness that would put anyone on edge.

It took up most of his time, unfortunately. The growing space between the pair of you was noticeable, you wouldn’t hold it against him, you couldn’t. Especially not when he visits you at the end of every day with a boyish grin and messy hair.

“Missed you today.” He breaks the silence, standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching you potter around the small kitchen.

Several moments pass and you still don’t even give him a glance, focused rather stubbornly on the task of scrubbing down the already pristine countertops. He makes a popping noise with his lips repeatedly, trying to gauge a reaction or at the very least your gaze.

With a groan he steps over to the dress you have been working tirelessly on, you have a talent for weaving threads and fabrics with your very hands, crafting the most beautiful dresses for the pretty ladies of the Vale for a rather pretty sum.

“Do not touch that with your filthy hands unless you wish to spend coin on new lace.” You tell him, turning around to meet his grin.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your lips from curling into a traitorous smile, the sight of him all dirtied and bloodied looked so out of place in the backdrop of pastel colours and the softest fabrics.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, allowing you to tug him over to the wash basin with a chuckle that passes through his chapped lips.

His expression softens as he watches the way your gentle hands begin to wash the mud and blood from his own, so much more delicate than his, not sullied by violence and battle, no, they only knew needlework and he vows to keep it that way.

“I said I missed you today.” He repeats his earlier statement, tilting his head slightly towards yours to meet your eyes.

“I suppose I should be grateful then, Lord Blackwood.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, despite the fact that there was no malice behind them, but still, that doesn't stop the regret that immediately swells up inside your chest at the deflated look he gives you.

“I sense I’ve done something wrong, have I?…” he treads carefully, his eyes searching your expression as your hands carefully work to free them of muck.

You shake your head, drying off his hands as you stare down at them with a troubled look. “No… forgive me I have been rather on edge as of late.”

He hums in understanding at your words, glancing around the room, trying to think about the right thing to say, before finally looking back down at you. In truth, he has never been good at this, words, but for you, he’ll try.

“You got me and I’m better than anyone in battle, you’ve seen it yourself, I’ll protect you.” He states with so much confidence in his tone you can’t help but chuckle, it was true he became a wildly different person on the battlefield, a man possessed by the thrill.

You avert your eyes to the sword that stands, leaning up against the wall with your brows pinched together in worry. Benjicot’s hands immediately cup either side of your face with care, the feeling of his calloused hands keeps your mind from drifting off to every worst possible scenario.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispers, tipping your head up ever so gently. “If anything happens you’ll have refuge at Raventree.” He promises, his tone carrying a seriousness that he does not always have.

“You sound so sure they’ll just take me in…” You whisper, unsure if you’d be welcomed at all.

“I will demand it, and so will my Aunt, she loves you especially after you made her that riding jacket.” His words warm your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips at the memory of Alysanne, the gratefulness of her tone and the excitement in her eyes.

A warm smile spreads across your lips, his rough hands still cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing across Westeros, the pads of his thumbs caressing the space under your eye.

“Now, no more worrying, hmm?” He announces, pressing a kiss against your forehead with a smirk as you agree with a small whispered ‘Alright’

The pair of you soon find comfort in the warmth of your bed, listening to him ramble on vividly about his day, his hands moving all over the place to get his point across and for the time being everything seems to be peaceful.

[leftoverpages]

Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for years without posting anything so i have a insane number of fics to post, enjoy lol

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt4

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt2 Pt 3

Summary: Vermithor accepts Ben as his rider and he takes to the skies with Silverwing. Y/n teaches him how to strengthen the bond and basic commands. A confession while Y/n gets into an argument with Baela and Jace. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral (m receiving), bathing, fingering, p in v, L word, very short snippet of Jace and Baela in Harrenhal

Authors Note: them riding the bonded dragons together is my roman empire rn, why shouldn’t riding bonded dragons cause a little bit of hot tension between these two? 

Word Count: 5.6k 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I study Ben’s features as I look at him in the early morning light. He’s sleeping so peacefully and I can’t help but think about what will happen shortly. He’s brave and fearless and absolutely fucking reckless and I’m hoping these traits will attract Vermithor. He’s been dwelling in the depths of the pits only emerging for food and Silverwing and just maybe he’ll come out for Ben. I straddle Ben and lean down to his neck. 

“Wake up, Ben.” I whisper in his ear as my hair curtains around us. He slowly opens his eyes as they start to focus on me. 

“Beautiful,” his voice gravely from sleep as he reaches up to kiss me while his hands travel up my legs on either side of him. 

“Serve me,” I murmur softly as I kiss him once more. 

“Serve me?” he pulls back breathing heavily. 

“Very good, it means serve me.” I hum as I kiss him once more. 

“Obey me,” I whisper against his lips. 

“Obey me,” he moves his head up as I sit back looking down to him.

“Obey me,” his breath catches at my words. 

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” his eyes lock to mine at the familiar greeting. 

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s voice is steady and strong. 

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” I nod my head to him. 

He slowly starts to sit up as a smile begins to form across his face. He pulls me down to his lips as I gasp getting lost in him. He releases me and pulls me out of bed quickly. I shake my head at his enthusiasm, but his high energy will serve him well this morning. As we begin to dress I can feel his adrenaline pouring off of him. 

We walk out of the castle and pick out plump cows before we begin to walk to the pits on the sands. He goes over the commands with me once again as we walk. On approach I hear Silverwings song coming from the depths. She slowly begins to emerge into the light and walk to me and Ben chirping creating a small sandstorm. Ben walks to her with a smile on his face.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” he smiles up at her as she pushes against his chest. 

A smile spreads across my face at how truly magnificent it is that her and Ben have that connection. I don’t know how I didn’t see the signs earlier and shake my head at my panic last night. The pits begin to thunder as Vermithor reaches his claws out. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyras voice raised in panic as she starts down the walkway with the dragon keepers close on her heel. 

“Stay back.” I shake my head raising my hands to them. If this is truly going to work it needs to be just us. He needs to show Vermithor no fear and that he doesn’t need a team of people to help him. I always believed it was the bravery and determination that enticed Silverwing. 

Vermithors maw reaches out into the sun as his teeth glisten in its rays. His full head reaches out at his eyes narrow on the cattle. I walk to Ben’s side and grab his hand in mine. Silverwing surrounds us with her legs as Vermithor starts to fully emerge, his claws digging into the sand. 

“Daughter, please,” Rhaenyras choked words come across barely audible over Vermithor and Silverwings grumbles and chuffs. 

He approaches and towers high above us looking down curiously. Silverwing rises to his height and pushes her snout to his. Vermithor chuffs and turns his head huffing his breath down on us. He backs up and lowers his head to study us as Silverwings jaws rest over him. 

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s words are laced with wonder and awe as he looks to Vermithor who tilts his head ever so slightly. 

“Serve me, obey me,” he turns as his hand slips out of mine as he extends his hands out to Vermithors snout. “And I shall serve and obey you.” he speaks in the common tongue and bows his head. 

Vermithor breathes out deeply as he looks to Silverwing before looking back down to Ben and me. His head lowers and he pushes his snout to Ben’s outstretched hands with a low groan. My breath catches as Ben’s head snaps up to Vermithor. 

“You honor me, Vermithor.” he breathes out wildly as a smile spreads across his face. 

Vermithor shuts his eyes as Ben begins to bravely pat along his neck. I can hear him whispering soft words of how fearsome and handsome he is as he walks around him. Ben comes back around the other side of his body as I stand there in awe. Ben stands back and looks up to him. 

“I’ve brought you something, give me a moment.” Ben’s voice laced with adrenaline as he makes his way back to the cattle. 

He collects the lead the cattle are tied to as he brings them to Vermithor. He grumbles out as Ben and I step further back as he scorches them. Silverwing stomps around us to feast with him. Once they’re done we walk up to them at a loss for words, I still can’t believe the events unfolding before me. 

“Shall we fly?” I look to Ben and then up at the dragons. 

“Can we? My fearsome Vermithor?” his eyes light up with excitement. 

Vermithor grunts and dips down for Ben to mount. I shake my head as a laugh bubbles out of me in pure amazement. I nod to him as I mount Silverwing. I watch Ben settle into the saddle and secure the clips to him. Ben leans down whispering something to Vermithor. He shakes out his spine as he starts into a run. I watch shocked as I see Vermithor take to the skies for the first time in years. 

Silverwing shoots us into the sky after them as she sings a song to Vermithor. He replies with his own grumbles as I see Ben wildly laughing atop him. My heart soars as I see Vermithor push them further and twist around in the sea. Silverwing chases after them and dips us in the water. 

They fly wing to wing on the breeze around the island until they land outside the pits and walk us inside. I dismount and turn to watch Ben do the same. He pats Vermithor who grumbles and turns to go rest with Silverwing. Once they’re deep in the pits he turns to me with wide eyes. 

“My fearsome Ben.” I smile to him breathlessly as he runs to me. 

He pulls me into a feverish kiss and his arms hold me tight. I drink in his adrenaline as we consume each other. Rhaenyra and Daemon clear their throats from the doorway as we pull apart. 

“Congratulations,” Rhaenyra shakes her head in disbelief as she looks to both of us. 

“You’re actually fucking mad.” Daemon chuckles nodding his head to Ben in approval.

“How was it? How do you feel?” I look to him with adoration holding his face and looking him over.

“It was amazing,” Ben shakes his head. “I feel,” he’s at a loss and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. The power and the connection are still so fresh and coursing through him. 

“Go rest off the adrenaline. We can begin lessons later.” she smiles and looks relieved. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra.” Ben lowers his head as his hand grabs mine. 

It feels as if there’s pure electricity flowing between us. I pull Ben back up to my chambers and seal the doors behind us. I walk to him as his hands pull me against him. I look up to him in absolute amazement as I offer him a blinding kiss. I pull away breathless before I drop to my knees before him.

“I am in awe of you,” my words barely a whisper as I look up to him. “Benjicot Blackwood. Rider of Vermithor.” adoration dripping off of my tongue as my hands travel up his legs. 

“Y/n,” my name sounds like a prayer as he caresses the side of my jaw while he looks down to me with dark eyes. 

I reach up and begin to unlace his trousers while blinking up to him. I see his chest rapidly rising and falling as my hand slips below and curls around him. As I free him of his trousers I take in his red, leaking tip. I lick around his tip as my fingers dance around his length. I pull back and slowly lick along the underside from his base back up while keeping eye contact with him. 

“Fuck Y/n,” he pants with flushed cheeks.

I swirl my tongue around him and slowly sink my mouth down. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I pump with a tight fist. I hear his breath coming out in pants above me as I speed my movements. I bring my other hand up to his balls and his hand tangles itself in my hair. 

“Y/n, I’m gunna-” his words are cut off with a groan as I hum around him while pushing him to the back of my throat. 

I moan as his hand pulls my hair while his hips shutter and I accept everything he gives me. I slowly move my mouth off of him and offer licks to his over sensitive tip until he pulls me back by my hair. I look up to him blinking innocently while his breathing begins to settle.

I rise up to him and kiss him softly. He grunts as I help him back into his trousers and begin to lace them back up. He pulls back as our breath continues to mingle. He lets out a low chuckle and I tilt my head to him. 

“Come, let me fix your hair, my Princess.” he smiles kissing the side of my head before leading me to my vanity. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the library Rhaenyra is sitting at the table looking over old texts. A smile spreads across her face when she notices our approach. We claim seats around the circular table and wait for her word. 

“I must admit I’m still in shock.” she shakes her head at a loss. “I would like explain to you what it truly means to be a dragon rider, especially during times of war.” her words become serious and we sit up straighter. 

“I’m willing to do whatever is needed.” Ben nods his head. 

“I know you are no stranger to battle, but with dragons it’s different. You’ve seen the advantage they offer when they’re on your side.” she nods to me. “But if you find yourself up against another dragon it will be one of the most petrifying moments of your life, if not the last.” her eyes look off as she tries to blink back tears. 

My mind drifts to Luke at this line of talk. Arrax was just a baby and Luke just a boy. I understand Jaces motives, but in those first days I was thankful he was away in the North to escape my rage. My hand reaches out to hers and she offers me a sad smile before she solidifies herself and starts again. 

“It will never be my want to send dragons to battle other dragons, but as of late it seems my wants are simply that: wants. Y/n will be able to assist you with learning how to control and channel emotions during high tense situations. Vermithor is very formidable and with him at Silverwings side,” she shakes her head. “You both may save us yet.” her eyes look between us. 

“We will see you sit the throne.” I nod my head to her, my words a promise. 

“I have had books pulled that I think will help offer assistance in learning High Valyrian. I’ve also had them bring out Visenyas old lessons in hopes that they can offer more insight. Y/n is very smart, use her knowledge to your advantage, learn everything you can from her.” she rises from the table and places her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ben.” she nods her head to him and leaves us to studying. 

“So you’re going to be my teacher?” he turns to me licking his lips. 

“I hope you’re ready. My lessons are very rigorous.” I hum as I get up to reach across the table to grab a book.

“What do I get if I do well?” his voice low as his hands travel to my backside as I’m bent over the table. 

“Benjicot Blackwood.” I scold grabbing his wrist roughly. “You will get nothing if you don’t stay focused.” I hiss as he smiles at my tinted cheeks. 

“I feel like you could come up with a more creative punishment.” he whispers into my ear once I claim my seat once more. 

I huff and glare at him with a fierce blush. I push a book into his lap and I leave the table to go find him more helpful books and parchments. As return I see that he has actually begun to read the book I gave him and I place more items at his side. I sit across from him and begin to look through what’s before me and begin to jot down important points. 

He continues to read for an hour while I write down notes. I peek at him every once in a while as he looks through the scattered parchments around him. His eyes look up and lock with mine before I look away as I feel a blush creep up my neck. 

“My love,” his low words caress my ears as my eyes shoot to his. 

“My love,” my words barely a whisper. 

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” My cheeks heat even more to my distress. “Translate it, please.” he smirks to me. 

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” I look to him for him to repeat it. He doesn’t much to my frustration and I fume. “If you’re done torturing me, I have some notes I’d like to share with you.” I clear my throat as he leans back in his chair smiling to me. 

“Of course, my Princess.” he looks over to me his focus attuned to my words and the knowledge I’m bestowing onto him.

“There are many commands that I would prefer to focus on before general speach. Vermithor can feel your intentions and feelings when you speak to him and pat him. I would rather you know what to say when flying than when you’re bringing our dragons food.” I look over my list of important commands and offer it to him. 

“I can keep this?” he asks while scanning over the list. 

“Yes, of course. Although, I should hope you would remember them and not pull out a piece of parchment mid flight.” A smirk plays on my lips. 

“I shall study dutifully, but I can multitask if needed.” he folds the piece of paper slipping it into his pocket with a sly smile.

“Another important piece of information to keep in mind is that your emotions are deeply connected and not just when you’re flying together. Over time you’ll be able to feel it more intensely as you build trust and boundaries. A dragon is not a horse and will not tolerate being treated as one. Vermithor chose you and you must rise to the title he has appointed you.” I study him as he absorbs and listens to every word I speak. 

“I shall be the rider he sees me as.” He nods his head and I can feel the confidence pouring off of him from across the table. 

“You’ve become one of the most powerful men in the realm today.” I stroke his growing ego because the look suits him. 

“I am yours first.” his words float around my heart. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the last fortnight Ben has learned an astonishing amount. He has his commands committed to memory and begun to focus on learning the language now. We take our dragons out flying everyday along the coasts and float on the breeze around the stoney island in the moonlight. 

Tonight we flew for hours under the stars as our dragons sang to each other. As our boots touch the sand Ben twirls me into the moonlight. We dance together using the waves as our music. He holds me tightly as we continue to sway. 

“You look the most divine in the moonlight.” Ben extends his arms so he can look me over. 

We stroll into the castle he grabs my hand with his. I’ve been so happy and free lately that it’s hard for me to face the reality that Ben and I are going to be sent back to Harrenhal in the morning. Rhaenyra thinks it’ll be best to send us further from the Crownlands so they don’t see we’ve gained a new rider. 

“Thank the Gods,” I sigh as I see my bath still streaming. 

I begin stripping off my gear as Ben follows chuckling. He helps me remove the rest of my clothing before helping me dip into the bath. He pulls up a stool next to the tub to keep me company and offers me soaps and oils. He lathers soap into a cloth and offers it to me. I smile as I hold my arm and look to him. 

He chuckles grabbing my arm and begins to clean me. His rough hands scrape against my skin as he tries to keep his touch light. He outstretches his hand for my other arm and I happily raise it for him. He moves around the bath and continues to clean. His hands dip into the bath to clean my legs as I look to him with heavy lids. 

Every time he trails the cloth up my thigh his fingers trail along my slit. I try to control my breathing and he starts on my next leg. I spread my legs as he chuckles lowly. His fingers linger on my core before he pulls them away again. 

“Ben,” I whine frustrated. 

“Yes, my Princess?” I whimper at his High Valyrian and his teasing fingers that continue on my legs. 

“I need you,” I look to him with pleading eyes. 

“I’m right here.” he chuckles as he pulls the cloth out of the water discarding it. 

“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes at his smirk. 

“Mm, enlighten me.” he licks his lips. 

I push him back with a wet hand and he topples off of the stool to the ground in a fit of laughter. I rise from the bath and find a towel and begin to dry myself off as he continues to giggle from the ground. I wrap the towel around myself and look down to him before he pulls himself up to tower above me. 

He kisses my furrowed brow as I continue to glare at him. He chuckles lowly as he begins to pepper kisses across my face trying to get a reaction out of me. One of his hands lands on my back and pulls me against him. 

“How long are you going to pout at me?” He kisses the side of my mouth before he starts to kiss my neck while it takes all my strength not to melt into his touch. 

His hand on my back scrunches the towel in his fist and pulls it from my body. I shiver at the breeze and lean into his warmth. I feel him smile against my neck as his tongue dances along my pulse. His other hand makes its way to my wetness and I bite down on my lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His fingers swirl around my clit causing me to shutter. 

“How does that feel?” he slowly pumps a finger into me as a whimper falls from my lips as I internally groan. “Yeah, does it feel good?” he purrs as his thumb circles my clit. 

My hands fly to his arms and dig in for support. I rest my forehead against his chest as he adds another finger. He continues to slowly pump them into me as I breathe heavily.  A moan falls from my mouth as he curls his fingers. I focus on my breathing until he starts roughly pounding his fingers into me. 

“Fuck Ben, please,” I sob into his chest giving in. Whimpers fall from my mouth as my nails dig into his arms as his fingers continue. My hips grind against his hand seeking pleasure. 

“Ben,” his name slips from my mouth as my thighs squeeze around his hand as pleasure flows through me. My breathing settles as my thighs spread to release his hand. 

I look up to him and his lips smother mine. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth to slide against mine. My hands begin pulling off his clothes and he brings his own hands to help speed along the process. He pushes me softly back onto the bed and settles between my legs. He grinds against my wetness before sliding in. 

He slowly pulls out and looks down to my squirming body. He dips back into me pulling a whine from my lips. My legs hook around his waist hoping he’ll start moving. I start to jerk my hips trying to get my own friction. 

“Gods look at you,” he growls as he watches me with dark eyes. 

His movements are quick as he flips us while staying inside. He helps me adjust my position so my knees are on the bed and I begin to ride him. His fingers dig into my hips as I grind and bounce against him. I toss my head back as my hands fly to my breasts and tease my nipples. 

“You’re perfect,” he groans before he attaches his thumb to my clit. 

A moan rips through me as my hips grind into his faster as I use him for my pleasure. His thumb quickens its ministrations and I explode around him. My hips shutter as he removes his thumb and brings it back to my waist. I lean down and capture his lips with mine as he begins to thrust up into me. I whine against his mouth as I clench around him. 

“You always feel so good, my Princess.” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to chase his own pleasure. I burry my head in his neck as my hips move to meet his as pleasure begins tearing through me again. His hips falter as he settles inside of me with my name on his lips. 

I roll off of him and cuddle into his side. He turns his head and kisses me tenderly. I sigh into his mouth as I get caught up in him once more. He pulls back chuckling and pulls the blankets over us. 

“Rest, we have an early morning.” he kisses my forehead as I close my eyes. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov: 

The Lords get jittery as the end of the week approaches as their proper commanders are due to return with news. Jace and Baela have been able to work alongside these Lords and their men. The host works seamlessly together and had no issue integrating Baela and Jace into their everyday routine. 

“How do you think Y/n will be when they arrive tomorrow?” Jace bites his lip looking to Baela. 

“I think you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pull her sword on you.” Baela chuckles as she continues to pack her bag. 

“Well he lived so I don’t see what the big issue is.” Jace sighs as he claims a chair by the window. 

“Oh she’ll tell you the big issue.” Baela shakes her head at him. 

“I’m actually quite excited to see Vermithor in all his glory. He’s fucking mad for even attempting to claim a dragon.” Jace tries to think of the last time he’s even laid eyes upon Vermithor. 

“I can see why Y/n chose him.” Baela hums tossing her bag by the door. 

“Can you?” Jaces tone playful as he raises his eyebrow at her. 

“You think our sister wouldn’t want the man who is known as Bloody Ben? Who is crazy enough to ride on Silverwing? The man who has now claimed Vermithor? I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back married.” she surmises before tucking her self into bed. 

“Mother would never allow it without us there.” he carries himself to the bed and pulls Baela against him. 

“You truly think they would ask mother?” Baela giggles resting her head on his chest. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n pov:

Silverwing glides along the clouds as I coast my fingers through them. Ben and Vermithor fly below us always watching out for potential hosts. We were lucky not to encounter anyone on the way back to Dragonstone and I’m hoping we have the same luck this early in the morning. 

I sigh in relief as the towers of Harrenhal come into view. Silverwing lands by Moondancer and Vermax while Vermithor circles the castle offering a low song. The towers crumble at the reverberations and he dips and thuds on the ground next to Silverwing. I look over to Ben who gives me a wicked grin. We both dismount and lug our bags with us. 

“How was the flight?” I walk up to him as Silverwing and Vermithor brush each other’s snouts affectionately. 

“Thrilling.” he looks down to me and offers me a soft kiss.

“Y/n!” I hear Jaces voice behind me. 

“You can come save him in one minute.” I whisper against Ben’s mouth as he looks at me curiously before I turn on my heel. 

I walk up to Jace and punch him in his face. I bring my other fist up but before I can land my second blow Ben pulls me back. I glare at Jace who is now cupping his face and I look to Baela wounded.

“How dare you both?” my words laced with hurt. “You could so easily lie to my face? You can see how deeply I care for him and you would so quickly have me fly him into a dragons mouth?” I look to them waiting for their answer. 

“We couldn’t risk you running away with him. Not when we need you, sister.” Baela words are soft as she looks to me. 

“A warning would’ve been nice. Even a hint. Not just oh mother wants to know how the host is and she wants to meet Ben.” I narrow my eyes at her and Jace. 

“Well he’s obviously fine,” Jace drawls wincing as he touches his nose.

“He’s fine!” I tilt my head back and laugh. Ben is still holding on to my arm firmly still not trusting my temper. “Let me not forget that mother told me this was your idea.” anger radiates off of me. 

“Daemon suggested Ben.” Baela interrupts trying to alleviate some of my anger directed at Jace.

“Another piece of information I was denied,” I shake my head at a loss. “We are not pawns you can move about a board. Give us the respect we deserve. We raised this host. We have been holding this castle for mother.” my voice rising with each word. 

“We do respect you and care for you deeply.” Baelas eyes search mine. 

“Then show it. Do not keep things from me that could put the man I love within The Strangers grasp.” Ben’s hand tightens around my arm and pulls me around towards him. 

“Do you mean that?” Ben looks down to me. 

“Ben one min-“ I go to turn back to my siblings. 

“No, no,” he turns me back to him pulling my chin to look at him. “Do you love me?” my eyes lock onto his as I finally realize my words. 

“I do,” I whisper as my cheeks redden. 

“Make up with your siblings and send them on their way.” the promise of what comes after is laced through his words that he whispers to me. I turn to look to Baela and Jace who are smiling at me. 

“I will hear your apology. Make it quick.” I purse my lips and Ben’s hand squeezes mine at my tone. 

“I’m sorry my perfect and amazing sister. I’m sorry I made the man you love claim one of the best dragons.” I roll my eyes at his words and turn to Baela. 

“I’m sorry we’re still lingering when I can tell you two would like to get to,” she clears her throat. “more pressing matters.” Jaces chuckles with her. 

“Apologies accepted.” I nod my head. “I saw no hosts or dragons on the way here so you both should have safe travels home.” 

They smile to me and come hug me as I groan. Jace shakes Ben’s hand and congratulates him. They offer us waves as their dragons chuff before shooting them into the sky. 

“So you love me?” Ben looks down to me smiling widely.

“Do you love me?” I look up to him. 

“I don’t know, I mean, I thought we were pretty casual.” my nostrils flare at his taunting words as he continues to smile at me. 

“Benjicot,” I warn through my teeth. 

“I have loved you for a while now,” pulls me to him shushing me. 

“Well say it then.” I look up to him expectantly. 

“I love you.” his eyes search mine. 

I grab his hand and pull him after me back into the gates. As we try to rush through the main hall the Lords stop us and welcome us back. The energy between us is crackling and I have no idea how the Lords can’t see or feel it. 

“Why is there another dragon here?” one of the Lords towards the back asks. 

“I’ve claimed him.” Ben says looking to all of the Lords. 

“You?” hushed murmurs spread throughout the hall. 

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long flight and would like to rest. We will have a meeting later.” He dismisses the Lords and pulls us up the steps to our chambers. 

He seals the doors and stalks over to me. We pull each other’s clothes off in a rush, backing up in hopes of landing on the bed. A loud groan cuts through me as he walks me back into a table. 

“Ow,” I whine clutching on to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out kissing me once more. 

He lifts me up into the lip of the table and thrusts into me a moment later. The table groans against his rough pace as I whimper clinging to him. His lips kiss and bite across my neck as I toss my head back. 

“I don’t know what it is,” Ben grunts as his hips continue to snap into mine. 

“What?” the word is followed by a loud moan. 

“All I want to do is fuck you, it’s all I think about lately.” he pants as his fingers dig into my hips. 

I come undone at his words as I cry out his name. He continues to pound into me as my back thuds against the table. He reaches down to pinch my nipples. My hands rest over his wrists as he continues to pull and twist. My legs begin to shake around him as I explode feeling him fill me. 

“Ben,” I whine pulling him down to me. I keep him against me as our breathing settles. When we finally pull apart we walk back to the bed with flushed cheeks. 

“I know what you mean about what you said earlier.” my voice hushed as he crawls into bed after me. 

“What?” he looks to me curiously. 

“I think of you all day, like more than normal.” I feel my cheeks flush. 

“Mm, what is the normal amount of times to think about me between your thighs?” he smirks. 

“I’m sure it’s not every time I’m around you. I feel like it could have something to do with our dragons being so closely bonded as we are. I should send word to my mother to see if she can send books,” I ramble as he begins to chuckle. 

“And tell her what? That you think about me fucking you too much?” he shakes his head laughing as his hands slide against my thigh. 

“Ben,” I warn but it comes out more breathy. 

“Really? That fast?” he teases me, continuing to ghost his fingers on my bare leg. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

when this was supposed to be a one shot and now i’m sad at the thought of even finishing this fic 🥲

Part 5

[wntrswolf]

an arsonist's lullaby

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!targaryen

✧ theme/warning(s): dark, heavy angst turned fluff — tw: mentions of hallucinations, anxiety / progressive panic attack(s). + all characters are of age! (18+) | contains hotd spoilers!

✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ a/n: this one-shot is a gift for @ithilwen-blackwood! firstly, thank you for tagging me on your request! it sparked a drive in me that i thought had left years ago, i had a great pleasure writing this one. secondly, given the prompt, i hope you, and the other pretty readers, enjoy reading my version. c: thank you!!!

✧ summary: to dream is to escape, granting a momentary nirvana as one falls into the refuge of imagination. yet, for the princess, a night in the supposedly cursed fortress of the riverlands, dreams became not mere fantasies but glimpses of destiny that would seal unwritten fate.

Daemon’s voice roars in the vastness of the dining hall. “We shall make camp before night falls. Come the morrow’s light, we resume our travels. See to it you are rested, we have yet a journey ahead of us.” Your father meets your gaze and nods solemnly, signalling his dismissal. You return the gesture with a faint smile, acknowledging his silent command to depart.

The murmurs of the troop swelled, each hastening to claim their place within the grim walls of Harrenhal. You remained steadfast, observing the weariness that were etched on the faces of the scrambling men around you. Gradually, the ache in your body began to throb, a reminder that the arduous journey had also taken its toll on your body. Despite the envy others held with their perceptions, it was not an easy task being a dragon rider—for an adult dragon, it was a feat far from simple.

Celestrya, much like her namesake, is a magnificent dragon. Her iridescent scales of aquamarine and amethyst create a mesmerising display of colours as she glides through the heavens. Yet, behind the deceptive beauty of your winged serpent lies a stubborn and formidable nature. Beneath her elegant appearance lies a fierce determination and commanding presence that demands respect from all who crossed her path. 

Your gaze swept the hall a final time, assuring all was in order before you sought your own repose. However, capturing your attention was the distorted shadow that stood by the hearth. The wavering figure you always came to see ensnared you yet again with its haunting presence, engulfing you in its deafening whispers. As was your custom, you sought to evade the encroaching darkness, only to collide with another in your haste escape. Unaware you had been holding your breath, you gasped heavily, abruptly jolting back to reality.

“Princess,” the young man spoke, “my apologies.” The firm grasp on your arms steadied you, preventing any falter, while your palms pressed against his chest. Slightly breathless, your eyes scanned for the shadow that had mysteriously disappeared.

“Princess?”

You hummed in response, your voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, my apologies.” You steadied your breathing, glancing up at the young man to realise the close proximity between you. In a moment of fluster, you withdrew from his grasp. 

“No,” he says as he scratched behind his head, “the fault lies with me. I failed to watch my path.” his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. As you regain your composure, you recognise the young man before you as belonging to House Blackwood, evident from his attire and the sigil pin securing his burgundy-black cape.

“Should my father and I be concerned, then?” you quipped with a nervous chuckle escaping your throat, eager to lighten the mood of the exchange and conceal your own tension. Playing with the thread on your dress—a familiar nervous tic—you continued, "I mean, a lapse in attention seems trivial, but in these times of impending war, every misstep carries weight.” a subtle smile gracing your lips. 

He responds with a nervous chuckle, striving to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, my lady, but I assure you, House Blackwood stands ready for whatever battles may come—and I have seen to it myself.” He spoke his words earnestly, eyes reassuring you that he indeed spoke truth—a revelation of his confidence in both his army and himself.

You chuckle.

“It was but a jest,” you offered him a warm smile, "Nonetheless, I am heartened to hear of your preparations. I believe our houses make a strong alliance, Sir…” 

“Benjicot Blackwood, my lady.” 

“Ah, the Lord of Raventree.” you acknowledged respectfully. “I extend my deepest sympathies, and I thank you for standing as a stalwart ally in our cause. It means much to us.”

“Thank you, my lady. If anything, it is an honor.” 

“Daenyra,” you replied softly, setting aside formalities in the presence of the young Lord.

What had prompted this departure from convention? You did not know. Could it be that despite his fierce demeanour, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability? his vulnerability. Perhaps you saw in him a fledgling lord who had witnessed the brutal toll of conflict—on his kin, his men, and even those he had been compelled to confront in his duties. A fledgling thrusted into authority unexpectedly—an experience you both share.

“It has been a long day,” you continued with a chuckle, “I believe I have had my fill of the formalities for now," feeling your nerves starting to settle.

“Of course, my la–” he began, but stopped short under your playful glare, “Ahem, Daenyra… Daenyra.” His voice softened, the repetition of your name becoming more natural on his tongue. The young man had uttered your name many a time, yet with your insistence that he address you by your name, simply your name, made him feel acknowledged.

You both chuckled. 

“Although, pardon the intrusion, I hope it does not mean to offend,” he continued cautiously, “but were you alright? When I bumped into you, you—” 

He had.

He had noticed. 

“Princess Daenyra,” a slender, raven-haired woman called out, interrupting your exchange with the Blackwood Lord. You thanked her mentally; wondering if it was deliberate or mere happenstance, but chose not to dwell on it. Turning towards the woman who commanded your attention, you were immediately captivated by her mystical aura and hauntingly beautiful features. “The camp is set. We shall have you escorted to your quarters.” she announced, her sharp blue eyes locking intensely with yours, leaving an impression that lingered in your mind. 

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, turning to the young Lord, prepared to bid him goodnight. “I apologise, Lord Benjicot–”

“Benji,” he corrected in haste. You were slightly taken aback, finding the informality endearing—as it reflected your own.

“I apologise, Benji. It has indeed been quite a journey, and we are weary and in need of rest,” you replied, your nervous tic making a subtle appearance again. Glancing around, you realise that it was just you, Benji, and a few other swordsmen left in the dining hall. With a slight huff, you added, “I shall see you in the morn, then?”

“Y-yes… my lady– D-Daenyra…” he stuttered, inwardly chagrined at his stumble. Despite his embarrassment, you bestowed one last smile and nod before pivoting on your heel, the echoes of your departing footsteps fading gradually into the distance.

In your absence, he chastised himself that his worry might have gotten the best of him; it was ridiculous, really.

After all, you were a Targaryen Princess, the sole daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, with the pure blood of the dragon coursing your veins. You inherited the ruthless and intense nature of your father, feared in combat where no man ever survived your blade. Needless to mention of the adult dragon under your command, the beast could devour him and his entire retinue, and would still be insatiable.

But amid the thoughts, he saw something in you that he could not quite describe—perhaps the sight of your gentle hands fidgeting, a stark contrast to the image of a warrior who must have slain a thousand men by now, he reckoned.

Reflecting on the moment of your collision, he realised that you, too, were simply a young woman—a lady of his own age—navigating a world fraught with responsibilities imposed by the realm. And now, on the march, leading an army of men to fight against the usurpers, and reclaim the justice that your mother, the Queen, had lost.

A familiar whistle—a melody only his dear aunt used—pierced through his thoughts, instantly capturing his attention, “Let us retire for the night, yea?” Her thumb gesture over her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly. 

"Yeah... yeah," the young man nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as weariness settled in.

Perhaps he was simply tired, allowing himself to dwell on thoughts that were not his to ponder. The princess was more than capable of defending herself, even from a lord she had met that night.

And still, he did. 

It was still the dead of night, you surmised. The clamouring assembly that would rouse you from slumber had yet to commence, awaiting for the break of morn. Pain gnawed through every fibres of your being; the harsh, cold surroundings of Harrenhal offered no respite from your discomfort. Your gaze fixed on the patterns of the canopy you lie beneath, the soft patter of rain acting as your lullaby. You closed your eyes as you sought after slumber once more.

Without success, you shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift mattress, propping yourself up on the firm pillows that offered little comfort. 

You sigh.

To your confusion, a sudden breeze rustled the entrance flaps of your tent, the fabric dancing along the gentle gusts. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you hear the familiar whispering—voices that haunted you time and time again; yet, it would be the first time you heard it spoke your name, 

“Daenyra…” 

You sucked in a breath, the thump in your chest increasing its tempo. The phantom’s whispers are heard beyond the refuge of your tent. Your palm dampens with cold sweat, as terror etched itself onto your features. 

Despite the urge of pursuit, fear had kept you in its confines, afraid of probing what had lurked in the darkness—in fear that the spectre that observed you would swallow you with its frightening taunts.

Or could it be an ambush? A ploy orchestrated by the Greens. A sorceress used to alter the perceptions of the formidable princess of the realm—a plausible explanation, is it not?

The vendetta within your family: Retaliation.

An eye for an eye.

A son for a son.

They would just simply have to seize the moment, right when you are in your defenceless trance.

‘Ambush the Blacks, slay the princess and prince consort while abed, and we make the Blackwoods bend the knee to the rightful heir,' you reckon they thought.

An absurd, petty measure, but an irrefutable one closer to a checkmate. 

Nevertheless, a ruse as such would never come to pass—existing only in the realm of imagination.

You were torn between fears: a haunting apparition or mortal hands that could lead to your demise.

Your conscience came to a ground that despite the fear residing in your bones, an audacious drive took over you to follow the bewitching voice. 

The ominous sight of the empty hall sent a chill in your spine, dim candles and occasional flashes of lightning provided sparse light amid the storm. You held the lantern, a guiding luminance, close to your body to warding off the encroaching darkness and hoped that the flame would not cease; and your other hand grips tightly by the hilt, wielding your sword.

Guided by the mystic call once more, you prudently tread your way within the ruin.

“Daenyra…” The voice growing clearer and louder with each step.

“Daenyra…” Again. 

“Daenyra…” Your breath grew ragged and shallow. Panic gripping your chest like a vise, squeezing air out of your lungs. 

It was not until you reached the grand iron doors that you realised where it led you—the dining hall. Thrusting open the heavy door, it creaked loudly. Once again, you were confronted with the shadow by the fire—the sight intensifying your fear, quickening your heart. 

“Daenyra…” The once-unrecognisable voice now rang clear, luring you towards the flame.

You approached the hearth cautiously, a sense of foreboding thickening the air as the shadow dissipated. The crackling of the fire seemed to roar in your ears, the blaze casting its orange hue upon you and its warmth seeping into your body. Entranced, your brow furrowed as you stared into the flickering flames. 

The voice spoke yet again, shifting to that of your weeping mother, calling out your name.

Your body tensed, skin tingling as if touched by flames.

"Mother?" you breathed out.

Suddenly, within the flames you hear wails of anguish as a hand emerges from the flames. With a sense of charmed urgency, you cried out and reached for the hand, the flare enveloping yours with a searing kiss.

Agh!

Recoiling, overwhelmed by the blinding flash of pain, you collapsed to your knees. Your sword dropping with a clatter as the haunting echoes of voices reverberated louder than ever in your mind:

That of the cries of babes, blood-curdling screams, galloping horses, agonising shouts of a thousand men, clashes of metal, thunderous roars of dragons and fire, and in the haze, unintelligible murmurings. 

“No… no… no,” you whispered, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears,

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

The dining hall began to close in around you, the heat becoming overbearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling hands covering your ears in a desperate attempt to silence the chaos consuming you.

“Daenyra…” It cried.

“Make it stop…” you pleaded, rocking back and forth. The sword lay forgotten on the stone floor, and the lantern burnt out, its presence unnoticed in the turmoil. 

“Daenyra…” It cried out again.

“Please…” 

“Daenyra?” A male voice softly whispered to you, gently shaking you from repose. “Dae–”

You woke with a sharp breath, a sob escaping your throat.

The dark figure hovering over you prompted a renewed wave of anxiety as you sat up abruptly, causing the figure to topple back. Your eyes darted around in fear, spotting a dagger that sits on the foot of the mattress, you still as dread overcame your body—unable to muster a shout or a scream.

It was not until the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dishevelled form of the Blackwood male that you realised you had emerged from sleep. You watch the young man in confusion as he had been hovering over you while you were abed, his blade just within reach. 

“B-Benji?” you croaked out as your chest heaved with staggered breaths. Your hair stuck to your tear-stained face, glistening beads of sweat lining your neck and chest. Trembling hands grasped onto his arm. 

“Princess,” his velvet voice replied gently, “Forgive me, my tent neighbours yours,” his eyes locked onto yours, “I could not find rest. I-I remained awake, but I heard sobs and…” 

You release a breath of relief that had been caught in anxiety.

“T-Thank you,” you uttered, meeting his gaze gratefully. For a moment, the tension in the air begins to ease. “For waking me up.” you added with a slight nod, your breath steadying in his reassuring presence.

Benji's expression softened, his gaze tender and unwavering as he, hesitant at first, gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "'Tis nothing," he murmured softly.

You offered him a faint smile, your hands working to compose yourself from your unsettled state.

Just a night’s terror.

Sighing softly, you wiped your palms over your face, hoping to dispel the lingering fatigue that still weighed upon your body.

At that moment, Benjicot hesitated, unsure whether to depart now that you had acknowledged his role in rousing you from the terror. Despite this, he remained seated with you in the hushed confines of your tent. His concern, which had grown since your exchange late last night and continued into the early hours of the dark morn, stirred his curiosity about your well-being before your unexpected encounter.

The fragility in your voice shattered the pregnant silence, “I…” you chuckled softly, airily. “I– I don’t know what I saw,” you admitted softly, voice slightly trembling.

“All I know is that it felt… real." you said pensively, unconsciously playing with a loose thread on the quilt that covered you. "It sounded so real.” your voice barely above a whisper.

Noting your nervous tic, “Dreams can be cruel,” Benji spoke. You watch as his hands gently took hold of yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over the backs of your hands—the gesture fluttering your heart. “But they are also just dreams, m’ lady.” he reassured with a smile.

He continued ever so delicately, "I too face the same darkness. You are not alone.” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

His words enveloped you in comfort, as did his mere presence—offering solace with each reassuring word and gentle touch.

You found yourself instinctively seeking if he would become a comforting constant in your moment of vulnerability. You long for his warmth, a feeling you had already sensed from the young man, since the previous night's encounter. 

“Stay… will you?” you whispered, your hands nestled in his, a self-conscious gaze falling to your lap.

He tightened his grip slightly, offering you a comforting squeeze. "As my princess commands," he replied softly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

a/n: soooo how was it? i feel like i rambled a bit too much in my writing. my brain went haywire since i wanted to add everything i thought of (ideas were popping up left n right up n down) but i added what i could: character cameos, witch's hallucination vs dragon dream??? hihihihi anyways! do not hesitate to comment ur thoughts, i appreciate reading them! ♡

[aemondwhoresworld]

THE LORD’S REDEMPTION

pairing: benjicot blackwood x reader

summary: in the intricate world of Westeros, alliances are forged and broken through marriages arranged for political gain. lady y/n of house y/l/n finds herself wed to benjicot blackwood, lord of raventree hall, a union intended to strengthen ties between their noble houses. although the marriage was one of duty, y/n begins to believe that genuine affection and love are blossoming between them, especially after the birth of their first daughter. however, her world is shattered when she discovers benjicot in the arms of his childhood friend, a betrayal that cuts deep. but in the end, love and repentance prove stronger, as benjicot, on his knees, begs for her forgiveness, vowing to honor and cherish her for the rest of their days. | word count: 2,6k

warning: english is not my first language. mention of cheating, gavebirth, infidelity, angst to fluff, etc

my first benji fic, currently there is no taglist for benji, thanks my bf to co-write this with me (almost half of the fic)

The halls of Raventree Hall were alive with the sound of celebration. The feast had been lavish, the guests numerous, and the union of House Y/L/N and House Blackwood had been met with cheers and well-wishes from all who attended. But as the night wore on, and the newlywed couple retired to their chambers, the reality of their marriage settled in.

Lady Y/N stood by the window, looking out into the darkened forest that surrounded her new home. The trees of the Blackwood lands were ancient, their branches gnarled and twisted like the old stories of the Children of the Forest. She had heard the tales as a child, but now, in this strange new place, those stories felt more real than ever.

Benjicot Blackwood, her husband, was a man of few words. He had been courteous and respectful, as expected of a lord, but there had been little warmth between them. Their marriage was one of duty, an alliance between two noble houses, and Y/N knew that well. Still, there was a small part of her that longed for something more, a connection that went beyond the cold formality of politics.

As she stood lost in thought, Benjicot approached her. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his voice soft, as if he were afraid to break the quiet. “The stars are brighter here than in other parts of the realm.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised by the comment. “They are,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It reminds me of home.”

Benjicot nodded, his gaze following hers out the window. “I know this is not the life you envisioned,” he began, hesitating slightly. “But I hope, in time, you’ll find happiness here.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of hope in her heart. “I hope so too, my lord,” she replied, her voice gentle.

That night, as they lay side by side in the large bed, Y/N felt the weight of his presence beside her. The sheets were cold at first, but as they lay in silence, she felt his hand slowly, hesitantly, reach for hers. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She squeezed his hand in return, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps, just perhaps, they could make this marriage into something more than just an arrangement.

Months passed, and the seasons changed. Y/N and Benjicot fell into a comfortable rhythm, learning to navigate their roles as husband and wife. There were moments of shared laughter, quiet conversations by the fire, and even a few stolen kisses that felt more natural with time. It wasn’t the passionate love story Y/N had once dreamed of, but it was something real, something she could build upon.

When Y/N discovered she was with child, the news was met with joy throughout Raventree Hall. The Blackwood line would continue, and the bond between House Y/L/N and House Blackwood was now cemented by blood. The pregnancy brought a new closeness between Y/N and Benjicot. He was attentive, always ensuring she was comfortable, and took great care in preparing for the arrival of their child.

The day their daughter was born, Y/N’s heart swelled with love as she held the tiny bundle in her arms. The babe had her mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair, a perfect blend of the two houses. Benjicot stood beside the bed, watching in awe as Y/N cradled their daughter.

“Would you like to hold her?” Y/N asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Benjicot hesitated for a moment, as if afraid he might harm the delicate creature in his wife’s arms. But when Y/N gently placed the baby in his hands, his fear melted away. As he gazed down at his daughter, his eyes softened, and Y/N saw something in him she hadn’t seen before—love, pure and unguarded.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me the greatest gift, Y/N.”

In that moment, Y/N felt closer to him than ever before. As she watched him hold their daughter, she allowed herself to believe that this marriage, once forged out of duty, had grown into something much deeper. Perhaps they could be happy after all.

But happiness in Westeros was often fleeting.

It was a stormy night when Y/N’s world came crashing down. She had awoken in the middle of the night to find the bed empty beside her. The sheets were cold, and the silence of the room was deafening. Worry gnawed at her as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and ventured out into the darkened corridors of Raventree Hall.

She searched for Benjicot, her heart pounding with every step. When she finally found him, it was as if the ground had been ripped out from under her.

There, in a secluded alcove near the godswood, stood Benjicot, his arms wrapped around a woman Y/N recognized all too well—Lysa Rivers, his childhood friend. The two of them were locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a kiss that spoke of old, unresolved feelings.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. This was the man she had come to love, the father of her child, and he was betraying her in the most unforgivable way.

Before she knew it, she was running, fleeing the scene of her heartbreak. The rain poured down in torrents, drenching her as she ran back to her chambers, but she didn’t care. The physical cold was nothing compared to the icy numbness that had settled in her heart.

When Benjicot finally returned to their chambers, he found Y/N standing by the window, her back to him. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with guilt. “Please, let me explain.”

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “Explain? What is there to explain, Benjicot? I saw you! I saw you with her!” Her voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

Benjicot looked stricken, as if her words had wounded him. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness—”

“A mistake?” Y/N’s voice rose in disbelief. “You betrayed me, Benjicot! You betrayed our marriage, our family!” She took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought…I thought you loved me. I thought we had built something real.”

“I do love you,” Benjicot said desperately, reaching for her, but she stepped back, out of his reach. “I’ve loved you since the day you placed our daughter in my arms. But Lysa…she was my past, Y/N. She was someone I cared for long before we were married. When I saw her tonight, old feelings resurfaced, and I… I lost control. But it meant nothing, I swear it.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t betray someone you love, Benjicot. You don’t risk everything for a fleeting moment with someone else.”

The hurt in her voice cut him deeply, and he sank to his knees before her, his head bowed in shame. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve wronged you in the worst way possible. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you—don’t leave me. Don’t take our daughter away from me. I will do anything, anything to make this right.”

Y/N looked down at him, her heart torn. The man before her was not the strong, confident lord she had married, but a broken man, consumed by regret. Part of her wanted to push him away, to let him suffer for the pain he had caused her. But another part of her, the part that still loved him despite everything, couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Benjicot,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive you for this. The pain you’ve caused me… it’s more than I can bear. But I won’t make any decisions tonight. I need time—to think, to heal. For now, I’ll stay, for our daughter’s sake. But know this—you will have to work harder than you ever have before to earn back my trust.”

Benjicot nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I will, Y/N. I swear to you, I will spend every day proving to you that you are the only woman I love, the only one I will ever love.”

The days that followed were filled with an uneasy quiet. Benjicot was true to his word—he devoted himself to Y/N and their daughter, never straying far from her side. He sought to make amends not with grand gestures, but with small, consistent acts of kindness and care. He listened to her, respected her space, and showed her in every way he could that she was his priority.

Y/N watched him carefully, her heart still guarded. The pain of his betrayal lingered, a sharp reminder of the trust that had been shattered. Yet, as the days turned into weeks, she couldn't deny the change in him. Benjicot seemed different, as if the weight of his guilt had transformed him. He was more attentive, more present than he had ever been before, and she could see the earnestness in his every action.

One evening, as autumn began to deepen, Y/N sat in their chambers, her daughter playing on a woven rug near the hearth. The little girl babbled happily, her tiny hands grasping at the colorful wooden toys Benjicot had carved himself. Y/N found herself smiling despite the turmoil in her heart. Her daughter’s laughter was a balm to her soul, a reminder that there was still good in her life, something pure and untainted.

Benjicot entered the room quietly, as he often did these days, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile peace between them. He knelt beside their daughter, picking up one of the toys and joining her in play. Y/N watched them, her heart softening as she saw the love in his eyes, the way he doted on their child with such tenderness.

After a while, Benjicot looked up at Y/N, his expression tentative. "Would you walk with me in the godswood?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Y/N hesitated. The godswood had always been a place of solace for her, a place where she could think and find peace. But it was also the place where she had first seen him with Lysa, the place where her heart had been broken. Still, she nodded. "Alright," she agreed, rising from her seat.

They walked in silence at first, the cool evening air rustling the leaves overhead. The old weirwood tree stood at the heart of the godswood, its red leaves vibrant against the darkening sky. Y/N had always found comfort here, under the watchful eyes of the old gods, but tonight she felt a sense of trepidation.

Benjicot stopped beneath the weirwood, turning to face her. His expression was earnest, his eyes full of remorse. "Y/N," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. I've thought about what I did, how I betrayed you, and I've realized just how much I stand to lose. I was a fool, blinded by the past, and in doing so, I risked everything we have. I can never take back what I did, and I will live with that regret for the rest of my life."

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "But I want you to know that I am committed to earning back your trust. I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love the life we've built together. I don't expect you to forgive me easily, and I don't expect things to go back to the way they were overnight. But I will keep trying, every day, to prove to you that you are the only woman in my heart, the only woman I will ever want by my side."

Y/N listened to his words, her emotions swirling. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. He was baring his soul to her, laying himself at her mercy, and for the first time since that fateful night, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward.

"Benjicot," she said, her voice soft but steady, "what you did hurt me more than I can put into words. It felt like everything we had built together, everything I thought we had, was just… shattered. But I can see how much you regret it, and I can see how hard you're trying to make amends. I won't lie to you—it's going to take time for me to heal, and it's going to take time for me to trust you again. But I don't want to throw away what we have, either. I want to believe that we can rebuild, that we can find a way back to each other."

Benjicot’s eyes filled with tears, and he took her hands in his, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise you, Y/N, I will spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Then let's take it one day at a time," she said softly. "Let's start again, and see where this road takes us."

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N and Benjicot began the slow process of rebuilding their relationship. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, of lingering pain that resurfaced when Y/N least expected it. But each time, Benjicot was there, patient and understanding, never pushing her but always ready to support her when she needed it.

They spent more time together, taking long walks in the godswood, sharing meals, and talking late into the night. Benjicot opened up to her in ways he never had before, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his hopes for the future. Y/N found herself doing the same, and gradually, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

One evening, as they sat together by the hearth, their daughter asleep in her cradle, Benjicot took Y/N’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes full of the sincerity that had come to define him since that night. "I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know that it’s true. You and our daughter mean everything to me."

Y/N looked into his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace. "I love you too," she replied, her voice soft but full of conviction. "It’s going to take time, but I believe in us. I believe that we can build something even stronger than before."

Benjicot smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and warmed her heart. "Together, we can do anything," he said, and in that moment, Y/N knew it to be true.

Their journey wasn’t over—there were still challenges to face, and scars that would take time to heal. But as they held each other close, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow over them, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the future. They had been through darkness, but now they were stepping into the light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came their way.

And in the end, that was what mattered most—their love, their commitment to each other, and the promise of a new beginning.

[misswynters]

The Bastard Daughter

Davos/Benjicot Blackwood x fem!reader

[ SYNOPSIS: You were born the bastard daughter of Prince daemon, and the elder half sister to baela and rhaena. Once you got married to your betrothed, Benjicot, you took your little brother, whom you shared a mom, with you. Aerys is ten years younger than you, however you raised him since he was a babe. Due to your mother, Lysa Tully, dying in childbirth.

[ WARNING: almost kidnapping, non-canon character death, mentions of blood, stabbing, kinda sloppy writing…

[ REQUESTED: by anonymous

The halls of Raventree Hall bustle with activity as preparations for the upcoming journey to Dragonstone are in full swing. You walk briskly through the corridors, your mind occupied with the heavy responsibilities placed upon your shoulders. As the recognized bastard daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, you have always been aware of the weight your lineage carries. Riding the wild dragon, Cannibal, only adds to the mystique and danger that surrounds you. But today, it is your duty as a mother and sister that weighs most heavily on your heart.

Benjicot Blackwood, your husband and the Lord of Raventree Hall, is in the courtyard, overseeing the preparations. His tall figure, with dark hair and a stern expression, exudes a sense of authority and protectiveness that has always comforted you. When he catches sight of you, his eyes soften, and he approaches you with a reassuring smile.

"Everything is almost ready," Benjicot says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Are you sure about this?"

You nod, though a knot of worry sits in your stomach. "Rhaenyra has asked us to send our son and my brother to the Vale with her own sons. They will be safer there, with their dragons."

Benjicot frowns slightly but nods. "If this is what you believe is best, then we will do it. They will be safe, I promise you that."

Your son, Eddric, and your younger brother, Aerys, are playing nearby, their laughter a small comfort amidst the tension. The younger one, Eddric was six years his junior. However both boys are strong and brave, with the fierce spirit of their Targaryen bloodline, but they are still young.

As the day progresses, you make your way to Dragonstone. The sight of the imposing fortress fills you with a mix of awe and apprehension. You know that not everyone will welcome your presence or the presence of your brother and son. Baela and Rhaena, in particular, have never hidden their disdain for you and Aenys.

Upon arriving, you are greeted by Rhaenyra herself. Her warm smile is a balm to your nerves. "Thank you for coming," she says. "As you know we must ensure the safety of our children."

You exchange polite greetings before making your way inside. As expected, Baela and Rhaena are there, their expressions hardening when they see you. The tension is palpable as you introduce Eddric and Aerys to Rhaenyra’s sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey.

"The Vale is no place for these boys," Baela says sharply, her gaze fixed on you. "They are meaningless, having no worth.”

Rhaena hesitantly nods in agreement. "We cannot risk our lives for them."

You step forward, your chin held high. "They are targaryens, just like the rest of us. They have a right to be part of this."

Before the argument can escalate further, Benjicot steps in, his presence commanding the room. "These boys are my family," he says firmly. "I have raised them, protected them, and I will not allow anyone to speak against their place here."

Baela glares at him. "This is not about you, Benjicot. It is about their safety."

Benjicot’s eyes flash with anger. "And I say they will be safe in the Vale. We also have dragons."

The room falls silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Rhaenyra steps forward, placing a calming hand on Baela's arm. "We must trust in each other," she says softly. "Our family will be stronger together."

Reluctantly, Baela and Rhaena nod, though their expressions remain tight. You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief.

As the preparations continue, you find a moment alone with Benjicot. He takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Don’t pay mind to them" he says quietly. You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief.

The following day, the courtyard is a hive of activity as the handmaidens, servants and riders prepare for the journey. Cannibal, your imposing dragon, stands apart everyone, his dark scales absorbing the morning sunlight. Eddric and Aerys are wide-eyed with excitement and nervousness, as the elder of the two clasped his hands onto the reins of his dragon. Your son then made his way towards his father.

You walked towards aerys and kneeled before him, smoothing his unruly hair. "Stay close," you instruct him. "And listen to Benjicot and me at all times."

Aenys nods solemnly, his face set with determination. "I will, sister."

Eddric, standing beside his father, looks towards at him. "Will you fly like mother?"

Benjicot smiles, ruffling Eddric’s hair. "Sadly i cannot my brave boy. We will be riding the carriage together."

As you mounted cannibal, you watched as aerys soared through the sky following behind, the wind whipping through your hair. The journey to the Vale is long and arduous, but the sight of the mountains and the Eyrie in the distance fills you with a sense of purpose. Aerys, riding his dragon, was a sight to behold, his youthful enthusiasm blending with the raw power of his mounts. You smiled with pride as his older sister.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by Lady Jeyne Arryn, who welcomes you warmly. The Eyrie, perched high in the mountains, feels like a safe haven amidst the chaos of the realm. The children quickly settle into their new surroundings, as the dragons roosting nearby.

A few days have passed, and the children begin their training in earnest. Under Benjicot’s watchful eye, they practice their swordsmanship and horse riding, their skills improving with each passing day. You spend your time teaching them the history and traditions of House Targaryen, ensuring they understand the legacy they are a part of.

That evening, as the sun sets over the mountains, you find a moment alone with Benjicot. You stand together on a balcony, overlooking the Vale. The sight is breathtaking, but your thoughts are heavy with the weight of your responsibilities.

Benjicot takes your hand, his touch grounding you. "You’ve done well," he says softly. "Aerys and Eddric are safe, and they are learning. You should be proud."

You sigh, leaning into him. "I am proud, but I worry. The realm is in turmoil, and our family is scattered."

Benjicot’s grip tightens on your hand. "With time, we shall be together again. Your family and mine are strong, and we will fearlessly protect each other."

His words are a comfort, and you find strength in his unwavering support. Together, you watch the sunset, the promise of a new day bringing hope.

Tensions remain high between you and Baela and Rhaena. Despite Rhaenyra’s efforts to mediate, old wounds run deep. One afternoon, as you are helping Aerys with his dragon, you overhear Baela speaking with Rhaena.

"They don’t belong here," Baela says, her voice sharp. "They are not true Targaryens."

You feel a surge of anger but force yourself to remain calm. Stepping forward, you address Baela directly. "We are as much Targaryens as you. Our blood is the same, and we have the right to be here."

Baela’s eyes narrow. "Your mother was not a princess. You are a bastard."

“But she was noble, even so… share the same father Baela,” You told her as you rubbed your forehead due to stress. Benjicot steps in, his presence a wall of protection. "Enough," he says, his voice cold. "This bickering helps no one. We are here to prepare for the future. We need to stand as a family."

Baela looks ready to argue, but Rhaena places a hand on her arm, silently urging her to back down. With a huff, Baela turns and stalks away, leaving you and Benjicot standing together.

You turn to Benjicot, your heart heavy. "Thank you," you say quietly. "I don’t know what I would do without you." He pulls you into an embrace, his strength and warmth enveloping you.

The days turn into weeks, a sense of routine settles over the Eyrie. The children continue their training, and the bonds between them grow stronger. The hostility from Baela and Rhaena lessens, though it never fully disappears.

As you gather for dinner, Jeyne makes an announcement. "I have received word from Dragonstone. We must prepare for a council meeting. Our presence is requested by the queen to discuss the future of the realm." The news sends a ripple of tension through the room. You exchange a glance with Benjicot, knowing that this council meeting could change everything.

However journey back is fraught with anticipation. Cannibal is flying in a calm but steady manner. Upon arriving at the Dragonstone, you are struck by the gravity of the situation. The council chamber is filled with lords, their faces a mix of hope and fear.

Rhaenyra takes her place at the head of the table, her presence commanding respect. As discussions begin, it becomes clear that the realm is on the brink of war. Alliances must be forged, and plans must be made. When it is your turn to speak, you step forward, your voice steady.

"My husband and I have brought our family and dragons to support the cause," you say. "We stand with Rhaenyra, and we will fight for the future of the realm."

Your words are met with murmurs of approval, and you feel a sense of pride and determination. As the council meeting continues, you steal a glance at your husband. Benjicot meets your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

After the council meeting concluded, you flew ahead back to the Eyrie. It The moon hangs high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the imposing structure of the Eyrie. All is quiet as the inhabitants of the castle sleep, unaware of the danger creeping closer. In the children's chambers, Eddric and Aenys sleep soundly, the fatigue from their rigorous training finally taking its toll.

Suddenly, a faint sound disturbs the silence – the creak of a door opening. Shadows slip into the room, figures cloaked in darkness, moving with the practiced stealth of seasoned kidnappers. They are after the children, seeking to exploit their value as dragon riders and Targaryen blood.

Aerys stirs, sensing the intruders, but before he can fully wake, a rough hand clamps over his mouth. His eyes fly open in terror, and he struggles futilely against his captor. Eddric is also grabbed, his startled cry muffled as he is lifted from his bed.

The kidnappers move quickly, their actions rehearsed and precise. They bind the boys' hands and gag them to prevent any cries for help. The children are carried through the darkened halls, the intruders avoiding patrols and sentries with an eerie familiarity of the castle’s layout.

In the courtyard, the kidnappers approach their hidden escape route. The dragons, knowing their companions are in danger, begin to stir restlessly in their nearby roosts. The beasts' low growls and shifting shapes go unnoticed by the kidnappers, who are focused solely on their escape.

One of the dragons, Cannibal, is particularly sensitive to the distress of its riders. The ancient, fearsome beast senses the peril its bonded humans face and lets out a thunderous roar that echoes through the mountains, shaking the very stones of the Eyrie.

The roar rouses you and Benjicot from your sleep. You leap from bed, your heart pounding with dread. "The boys!" you exclaim, already moving toward the door. Benjicot is right behind you, his face a mask of determination and fury.

Rushing into the courtyard, you are met with chaos. Dragons are roaring, their eyes glowing with rage, and guards are scrambling to understand the source of the commotion. You spot the kidnappers just as they reach the edge of the courtyard, your children still struggling in their grasp.

"Stop them!" you shout, your voice piercing the night air.

Benjicot draws his sword, his eyes blazing with fury. "Let them go!" he roars, charging toward the kidnappers.

The intruders, realizing they have been discovered, hasten their movements. One of them draws a dagger, pressing it to Aerys throat. "Stay back, or the boy dies!" the kidnapper threatens.

Your heart clenches with fear, but you refuse to back down. "You will not harm them," you declare, stepping forward with a fierce resolve. "Let them go, and you might live."

Cannibal lands heavily behind you, the ground shaking under his weight. The sight of the massive, menacing dragon causes the kidnappers to falter, their courage wavering in the face of such a formidable beast.

Benjicot takes advantage of their hesitation, lunging forward with a swift, precise strike. He disarms the kidnapper holding Aerys, pulling the boy to safety. You rush to Eddric, freeing him from his captor's grasp and shielding him with your body.

The remaining kidnappers, seeing their plan unraveling and the dragons closing in, decide to flee. They sprint toward the forest, abandoning their mission in the face of certain death.

With the danger passed, you hold Eddric and Aerys towards you, your heart still racing. Benjicot stands beside you, his sword at the ready, eyes scanning the surroundings for any remaining threats.

"You’re safe now," you whisper to the boys, trying to soothe their trembling forms. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Benjicot kneels beside you, his expression softening as he looks at the children. "We will always protect you," he promises, his voice firm and reassuring.

Eddric clings to you, his voice shaking. "They were going to take us away," he says, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Aerys, though shaken, lifts his chin defiantly. "We’re not afraid," he declares, his young voice filled with the courage of his Targaryen heritage. "We have dragons."

You and Benjicot exchange a look of profound relief, as the boy . Despite the terror of the night, the four of you had emerged stronger through fear.

The day came to a close and it was the next morning, a beautiful crisp autumn day at the Eyrie, the air filled with the rustle of leaves and the distant roars of dragons. You watch Aerys and Eddric from a distance as they train, their laughter and determination a constant source of joy.

The boys have become inseparable, their friendship growing stronger with each passing day. Suddenly, a commotion erupts near the main gate. You see a group of strangers, dressed in dark cloaks, pushing their way through the guards.

Your heart races as you recognized the danger. The attackers move swiftly, drawing swords and pushing past the guards with brutal efficiency.

"Stay here!" you shout to Eddric, who is standing frozen in shock. You run towards Aerys, who is closer to the intruders, your mind racing with fear.

Before you can reach him, one of the attackers grabs Aerys. The boy struggles, his fists pounding against the assailant. "Let me go!" Aerys screams, his voice filled with terror. The boy then grabbed tried to grab his dagger to stab his attacker on the leg. However it wasn’t enough.

You draw your sword and charge at the attacker, your heart pounding in your chest. But before you can reach them, the man uses the boys dagger and plunges it into Aerys chest.

"No!" you scream, your voice breaking as you watch your brother collapse to the ground.

You reach Aerys side, dropping to your knees and cradling him in your arms. His eyes are wide with pain and fear, blood staining his tunic.

"Aerys, stay with me," you plead, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't leave me."

Aerys's hand reaches up to touch your face, his fingers trembling. "I... I'm scared," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"I know, little brother. I know," you say, your voice breaking. "I'm here. I love you."

Aerys's eyes flutter closed, and his hand falls away. You hold him close, your heart shattered as you realize he's gone.

The courtyard is silent, the attackers having fled. Benjicot arrives, his face pale with shock as he takes in the scene. He drops to his knees beside you, his hand on your shoulder.

"We'll find them," he promises, his voice rough with grief and rage. "We'll make them pay for this."

But his words bring little comfort. The loss of Aerys is a wound too deep to heal, a pain that sears through your soul. You hold your brother's lifeless body, your tears falling onto his bloodstained tunic.

The sky is gray and somber as you stand beside Aerys's pyre, your heart heavy with sorrow. The dragons circle overhead, their mournful cries echoing through the mountains. The loss of Aerys has cast a dark shadow over the Eyrie, the grief palpable in the air.

You stand with Benjicot, Eddric by your side, his small hand clutching yours tightly. The boy's face is streaked with tears, his grief a mirror of your own. As the flames consume the pyre, you whisper a silent prayer for Aenys's soul, hoping he finds peace in the afterlife. The pain of his loss is a weight you carry with you, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of the world.

The memory of Aerys's laughter, his bravery, and his love will stay with you always. And with Benjicot and Eddric by your side, you vow to honor your brother's memory by protecting them and fighting for the better of the realm.

You couldn’t help but place the blame of your little brothers death on someone, something. Why wasn’t there guards posted at Aerys and Eddrics chambers the night prior. How can two masked assailants just come into the courtyard unseen and unheard until it was too late. You wished you could blame someone, you really did.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @thornsandtulips

[a/n: sorry anon, i killed the readers brother :/, they really said let’s try again

[knight-of-flowerss]

I Will Wait.

Part one.

|__> part two will have smut I think :p also if u wanna be added to the house of the dragon tag list pls comment on here and I’ll add u!!

Benjicot ‘Davos’ Blackwood x Bracken!Reader.

Fluff + a bit of angst

Song inspo: I will wait by Mumford & Sons

Masterlist

Being a Bracken was hard. Well, being a Bracken girl was hard. Your brother, Aeron, was a pompous arsehole. Always acting like he was this big, tough knight, when in reality, he was a little boy who was playing as a pretend knight.

Your uncle, Humfrey, also known as Lord Bracken, was also a pompous arsehole, but he knew how to toy with people. He wasn’t a pretender, he would make promises and keep them. Like the promise that he would get one of his guards to whoop you as a child if you didn’t stop misbehaving, and as all children are, you continued misbehaving, and as you can expect, your uncle stuck to his words, even had the nerve to laugh at you when you tried to sit down on your sore bottom the next morning.

There are many things wrong with House Bracken. But the worst and most annoying of all was the ongoing rivalry between House Bracken and House Blackwood.

Apparently, to the Blackwood’s, years and years ago, the Bracken’s poisoned their dear Weirwood tree. It could be the truth or it could be another of the miscellaneous lies that both houses seemed to spew about each other to back up their rivalry. But in reality, I don’t think either side really knows why they hate eachother.

But what you did know is that you love a Blackwood.

And that was wrong.

Benjicot Blackwood was a sweet boy. Shy and caring. He was everything you wanted in a man. And he didn’t care that you were a Bracken.

Even when you were little, Benji always intrigued you. He was an honourable boy, an honourable man. He would never include a girl in a family feud that all stemmed from jealous men.

“Benji.. the war is coming, isn’t it?..” You whispered to him. You were both deep in the forest, Benji sitting up against a large tree, and you lying in his lap, your head resting on his chest as you get your large dress comfortable on the ground. Playing with his shirt, you look up at him, seeing him staring infront.

“Yes my love. I’m sorry but I must fight, it’s what I was born for. If I cannot protect my Queen then what type of Lord am I?” Benji breathed out. You sit up slightly, placing your left hand on his leg and your right on your chest, your faces inches apart.

“And what about me Benji? If you cannot come back alive then where does that leave me? Married off like a brood mare to the highest bidder? Dead at the hands of the other Blackwood’s? And what if Aegon wins? You could get executed for going against the crown-“

“And you can’t? Rhaenyra will win. And when she does she just might have mercy on the disloyal houses like House Bracken. Or she might kill you. But I know my Queen. The backers of the usurper cunt call her King Maegor with teats. She mourns her children! Her legacy! But even after all that she would spare the lives of those serving the pretender, because she is a good Queen.”

Tears brim your eyes as you stare at him. Wishing this could all be different. “Benji.. I don’t care who wins and who loses, I just want you. I want us to marry and grow old and have children, I want to not be afraid to love you Benji..”

Leaning your head against his, you squeeze your eyes closed and pressed your lips together tightly, trying not to spill tears or a pathetic whimper.

“I’m sorry my love. I promise you I’ll be back. And when I do, I promise I’ll marry you under the Weirwood tree, under the Old Gods and the New. I’ll love you unconditionally, no matter what any Bracken or Blackwood say. You are mine and I am yours. The day we get back, I either ask for your hand or take you as mine if anyone objects.”

You open your eyes and look at him, lips parting slightly. “Really?..” He adorns his sweet little smile finally and let’s out a small, breathy laugh. “Of course my love, you mean the world to me and I’d rather die than let you be used as a political piece for those piece of shit Brackens. Always have been a piece of shit, do you know what your uncle did to my father when they were-“

You grabbed his face, slamming your lips onto his, it was probably the last time that you could and you were going to make the most of it.

It had been two years. Two full Fucking years. It was over, finally. The usurper, Aegon, had been defeated.

From the start of the war ‘til now, you had matured a lot. All Noble women and children of the Riverland houses had lived in Riverrun since the war started, protecting the houses heirs and family.

Two years ago you were naïve, wide-eyed, and dependent on your surroundings to comfort you. Innocence was your very essence.

Now, post-war, you had come to terms with the world, it couldn’t change, people will continue to kill each other for power. But also, you were ‘ready for children’ according to Lady Tully. She claims your hips have widened and your breasts have grown. She is determined to find you a living husband to carry on your Bracken line but in reality, you wanted to taint that line, with Blackwood blood.

Soldiers were returning home.

Finally, your family was returning home.

Thousands of men from each houses spewing through each and every crevice, determined to get home.

Tully men made their way towards the Riverrun to celebrate their victory with their wives and children, with those who fought bravely along side with each other.

Darkmont men marched their way home, proud banner men who were eager to pray to the Seven, giving thanks for the victory that the Warrior gifted them, grateful that the Warrior answered their prayers of protection, valour and skill in battle.

The Piper men stalked towards the Pinkmaiden Castle near the Golden Tooth and the border with the Westerlands. Their loyalty towards the Tully’s unwavering in and out of battle. They make their way home while their faces reflect their words, ‘Brave and Beautiful’.

Other houses marched home, House Endymion, House Deddings, House Teague and others. They were all either matching home or to Riverrun to celebrate. You would try and pay more attention, but you’re too busy to acknowledge each and every men as you’re looking out for your man.

Your silly, crazed, depraved man that, hopefully, still has that shy, tender-hearted, gentle and loving boy inside.

You were just about to turn away, to pack up and return home to see what was left of your family, when you see it.

Three sets of flags, each having a trail of burned, bloodied and beaten soldiers following.

In the middle there rode a man holding the Clement House coat of arms on a large banner, a white flag with for blue, jagged line going down vertically.

They were loyal men of the Tully’s, Defenders of the Riverlands but there is only so much those soldiers can do before they stick their swords through their chest due to the constant bickering of the houses on either side of them.

On the left of House Clement, there was your family. House Bracken. Holding their golden banner with the Carmine coloured Stallion plastered in the middle up high as if they weren’t serving the pretender, the usurper, the loser. They had been defeated, yes. But their life long rivalry with the house over the field seemed to make them forget that.

You finally spotted your brother, Aeron. He looked utterly defeated. But that was in his eyes, his body and mouth concealed his battered condition with a confident facade.

Even from so far away you could tell they were bickering. They always were.

Finally your gaze drifts towards the right of House Clement, to your enemies.

A large, grey Stallion, big hooves, a dark matted mane with bit splotches of white and grey littering it the further you get towards its back legs moved in sync with the others at the front of the House Blackwood line. It was the most beautiful horse you had ever seen, trotting at a slow pace and showing off its regal strut. For being such a big and burley horse, it was quite elegant.

But, as beautiful as the horse was, a god sat atop it. The Maiden herself reincarnated as a Blackwood boy, Man.

Benjicot Blackwood had returned, more a man than those marching. He held his family’s banner up high, displaying their victory.

You smiled and stepped away from the window, running through the halls of the Riverrun. You stood at the front of the gates, greeting men as they trotted in.

All the other houses entered or passed and then finally House Clement entered, the banner men leading the Fyrd.

Next came your house, House Bracken. Your cousins and siblings came boasting in. Upon an auburn horse, your brother chucked the banner to the on foot soldiers and got off his horse.

“Sister!” Aeron shouted as he rushed towards you, “The fucking bitch Queen won, the little fuckers burnt half our house, I’ll fucking kill them.”

“Maybe it is for the best Aeron, we should at least be grateful she hasn’t burnt us to a crisp. And.. I’m glad to have you back brother.” You smiled and pressed a palm to his cheek. He sighs and wraps his arms around you tightly, “I’ve missed you sister, truly. It was horrifying out there, you ever seen a dragon rip a man to shreds? Well, hopefully not. Has everything been alright while we’ve been gone?”

“Of course it has brother, I’m a Bracken after all. A Bracken woman. I know how to handle myself. Now, go inside and show everyone how a Bracken stands tall, even after a loss.”

He smiled at me, tightly nodding. He let of me and started walking inside, catching up with our cousins on the steps.

Finally, finally the Blackwoods came marching. But that large stallion wasn’t matching at the start, Benjicot Blackwood, your Benji was no where to be found in fact.

Panic set in through you. Where had he gone? Had he fled? Had your family hurt him? Your questions were left un-answered as Lady Tully came out.

“Sweetheart, come inside, celebrate.” She spoke to you with great kindness, her hands gripping the sides of your arms and gently pulling you away into the Riverrun.

While the Lady Tully was coercing you inside, Benji was arguing with your uncle, Lord Bracken.

“Your false, usurper, cunt of a ‘king’ has been defeated Lord Bracken, I see no reason why you still think you can act like you have the upper hand.” Benjicot had started to lose his temper.

He had came to Lord Bracken to ask for your hand in marriage, to throw away their rivalries and start a new beginning of joint houses. Of course this was not Benjicot Blackwood speaking, Benjicot Blackwood would rather die than admit this. No, this was Benji speaking. This was the boy who loved a woman speaking.

But as time passed, his new nickname gifted to him in the war came shining through, Bloody Ben came out. He started losing his temper, lashing out at your depraved uncle, calling out his foolishness.

In reality, Benjicot was being just as foolish, lashing out at a Bracken while their large hoard pricks surround him, fucking stupid. But, he had brought Oscar and Kermit Tully alongside him, two long friends of his. So if shit went down, at least they’d die together.

As the bickering continued, both Bracken and Blackwood became increasingly more agitated and aggressive, the two Tully boys standing there like they’re ready to kill them selves and not the men coated in yellow.

“Young Lord Blackwood, do you really think I’d let your tiny Blackwood cock defile my innocent neice?”

Benji huffs, “Lord Bracken, your neice will have the taste of a real man, not a Bracken boy. The gods know we are destined-“ , “You worship the old gods! You will not say the fake gods destine you and her.”

Kermit moves forward, leaning to whisper into Benjicot’s ear, “Ben, maybe we should leave”, Benjicot puts a hand on his chest and softly nudges him away.

“Lord Bracken, rest assured, the old gods and the new know our binding of houses will avoid years of bloodshed in the future-“

Lord Bracken interrupts him, “Why would you want out houses binded? The Blackwood’s hate the Brackens and vice versa, it’s been like that for years, why would you of all people want that? You wish to take a jab at House Bracken while we are at our weakest? Belittle us?-“

“I love her.” Exclaimed Benji, Kermit looked to Oscar and Oscar rolled his eyes, just wanting to sit and feast, tired from the war.

“You know nothing of love, boy.”

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @tiredsleepyhead @onlyrealjoy

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Rhaella is now 15, Aemond 14. Also, I've aged Benjicot Blackwood up he is now 16 in this fic.

130 AC

"I do not see why I must dress like this." Rhaella sighs, pulling at her dress, the corset is suffocating her.

"You are nearing the age to be wed. It is important you look your best." Edric says, "Stop fussing"

"I feel like I am being squeezed to death!" She whines as he hooks his arm with hers.

"It is only for the evening. Then, you will be able to wear your normal gowns." Edric says

"You speak so confidently, it is obvious you have never worn something like this." Rhaella groans

Maester Edric chuckles and gestures to his robe and chain.

"Forgive me, I'm not wearing a corset under all this. Although you never know."

Rhaella lets out an unlady like snort as they walk towards the throne room. King Viserys was hosting a ball, he had said it was just to celebrate his own rule, The queen had told her what it truly was. A way to meet suitors, after all she'd need to create an heir for Runestone. Rhaella hated the idea of marriage. She didn't want to leave the Red Keep and take her castle. Why couldn't Gerold rule for her? She wanted to stay here in the Capital with Aemond, swimming and reading until they fell over from exhaustion.

The ball is as grand as anyone could imagine. Lively music played as guests approached the high table to greet their king and his family. Viserys made a point to show Rhaella every eligible man who presented himself to her. Most of them were boring, all complimenting her beauty or here dress, one of them surprised her and had spoken a greeting in High Valyrian. Of course, he couldn't speak anything other than that greeting and she was left disappointed again.

"You remind me of Rhaenrya as a girl. Always quick to dismiss suitors without a second thought." Viserys says as some golden haired Lannister leaves them.

"Well they're all, twats." Rhaella says

"They are of the great houses of Westeros." Viserys says with a chuckle, "Some of them truly are twats though. Especially that last fellow."

Rhaella looks at Aemond who sits near his mother, Heleana on his left and Daeron on his right. If Aegon hadn't been present, Rhaella was sure he'd be the most bored at the table.

"Are there many more?" She whsipered, leaning towards Edric.

"A few, My Lady." He says sympathetically, "Perhaps you might dance with one, the night will go quicker."

"So they ask me boring questions? I'd rather let Sōna eat me." She laughed

"That might be less painful than a dance with some of them. I believe the Baratheon boy is drunker than even Aegon himself tonight." Edric says looking over at a very drunken first cousin of Lord Baratheon . The Lord of Storms End is trying to rouse his relative who is down for the night. At least Aegon's eyes were still open.

"My King." A voice greets, "My Lady."

"Lord Blackwood." Viserys greets

Rhaella turns her head, expecting another old man, or perhaps even an ugly young child who'd rather be playing with toys than greet the King. Instead, she was met with a tall and slim young man, short black hair sat atop his head, messy with curls.

"Lady Rhaella, I heard you claimed Sōna. I have heard tales that she is a marvelous beast, white as the winter snows from Winterfell." Lord Blackwood says

"She is magnificent, My Lord. Truly a marvel to see." Rhaella smiles, its the first compliment she's received all night that's not about her hair or beauty.

"If you ever have a chance, perhaps you can visit Raventree Hall. I'm sure she'd enjoy Blackwood cows as a treat. I'd love to see Dragonfire with my own eyes." He says

"Yes, that would be nice." Rhaella smiles

What an odd man, suggesting she visit his home to feed her dragon cattle. It was surely a different attempt at courting.

"Benjicot Blackwood, he's the young Lord of Raventree. A good match but his feud with the Brackens would drive any sane person mad." Edric says to her as Lord Blackwood goes back to his table.

"He is the only man close to my age in this hall tonight, and the only one who made interesting conversation." Rhaella points out looking at the room filled with older men and children alike.

"He suggested killing cows with your dragon as a form of entertainment." Edric says, looking Rhaella with questions in his eyes.

"It is better than talking of golden lions with the Lannisters." Rhaella says

"You are correct, my Lady." Edric smiles

Aemond could not believe what was happening in front of him. Rhaella, who had been dismissing suitors all night long with rude look or a comment was dancing with one of them. Benjicot Blackwood was twirling her around the floor like they were already wed and getting ready to celebrate for the next three moons.

"You are turning as green as mother's dress, Aemond." Aegon teases

"Ignore him." Heleana advises looking over at Aegon who shoves a bite of food into his mouth.

Rhaella's red and gold gown glitters under the lights of the many candles that light the room. Her silver hair is tied back, showing off how her face has sharpened over the years, baby fat falling away to give way to piercing Valyrian features. Aemond can feel his eye twitching with anger. Truly there was no reason for his current mood, there was no reason to be jealous over a single dance. Perhaps she was just being polite to Lord Blackwood.

It is when she tosses her head back to laugh at something he has said that Aemond cannot take it anymore.

"Mother, I want to leave. Am I dismissed?" He says, looking at his mother.

Queen Alicent lets out a sigh and gives him a nod.

"Straight to your chamber. I don't want you out with Vhagar now." She gives him a look

"Fine." Aemond conceeds, how did she know he was going to try to go for a nightime flight? A mother's intuition perhaps.

Rhaella laughs again as he's leaving. She leans in to whisper something to that idiot Benjicot as his hands are resting on her waist.

How disgusting.

Aemond hopes they both trip and fall face first into the pie that's being served to the guests. Maybe that would teach that barbaric Blackwood a lesson.

Rhaella finds Aemond the next day scowling in his chambers rather than in the training yard with Criston Cole.

"Are you sick?" She asks when she sits at the end of his bed

"I'm fine." Aemond grumbles

"Then why are you not training? Or at least meeting me in the Library like we usually do?" She questions

"I'm tired. Go away." Aemond groans, pulling his blankets over his head.

He had always been one for dramatics.

"You are acting like a spoiled child. What is wrong? Tell me." Rhaella commands, grabbing the covers and ripping them off him.

Aemond lets out a shout of dissaproval when he's exposed to the sunlight hits his eye.

"You haven't even dressed yet?" Rhaella asks looking at his night clothes "It is past noon!"

Rhaella's eyes are caught on Aemond's eye which is not covered by his eye patch. The sapphire that she had heard whispers about in the Keep was mesmerizing. He hadn't let her see his wound since he lost the eye.

"Don't you have somehwhere to be? A dance with Lord Benjicot Blackwood perhaps?" Aemond asked

Was that what all this was about? Surely Aemond wasn't jealous?

"Lord Blackwood is preparing to return to his home today. I do plan to see him off, but not if you are lying here, like some...self pitying...fool." She says

"I'm not a fool." Aemond says

"Then why are you acting like one?" She asks

Aemond suddenly sits up, Sapphire eye catching the bring sunlight that streams into his chamber. He's staring right at her and Rhaella suddenly feels nervous under his gaze.

"You can say goodbye to him, only if you promise to fly on Vhagar with me." He says

"What do you plan to do if I say no? Lock me up?" Rhaella rolls her eyes

"If I have to." Aemond jests

"I'd scream." Rhaella agues

"I'd gag you." Aemond declares

Rhaella huffs a sigh of frustation, Aemond was a wearisome individual today.

"Fine. One flight. But you're not allowed to let me fall off her." She agrees

Truthfully the idea of flying on Vhagar had always terrified her. That large of a beast taking to the sky was mortifying to her.

"Maybe I'll push you off." Aemond says, tone serious.

Rhaella shoots him a look, letting him know his joke has not been well received.

"Maybe I'll push you off and claim her for myself." Rhaella says

"I'd like to see you try." Aemond smirks

Next part

Guys I almost forgot Daeron was like...a thing so I had to mention his existence. Anyway, I love Bloody Ben so I had to give him a little cameo. Also when was HBO going to tell me that he's 12 during the dance? He is a whole child. Anyway, I've aged him up quite a bit here so its not as weird.

Also, whoever made this, they genuinely had me laughing on Pinterest...

Poor kid Aemond...

Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)

Taglist:

@caspianobsessed

@starryhiraeth

@franzelt

@holymusicalmothman

@koobratzy

@schelfinser

@mizuki80

@flusteredmoonn

@sunmigs

@mizuki80

@dramioneforevertilltheend

@fix5idiots @canpillowscry

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@optimistic-but-very-realistic

@vieenr0se

[witchybitchycrybaby]

And they were neighbors...

Benjicot Blackwood x modern!fem!Bracken!reader

Warnings: none, it's just pure fluff, modern au

Words: 1,3k

✨✨✨

Benjicot Blackwood groaned as his alarm buzzed on the nightstand, effectively interrupting his sleep. He slapped it off and lay back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His thoughts, as usual, drifted to his best friend, his next-door neighbor, his... whatever you were to him. The Bracken girl, on top of that.

His parents would probably go bananas if they knew he had feelings for you.

Sure, your families couldn't stand each other, everybody in your small neighborhood knew that, but for Benji that war no longer mattered when it came to you. He thought about the way you looked at him, the way you always had an answer whenever he said something unhinged, and that smile… oh, that smile. He was whipped, completely and utterly.

How you managed to get so deep under his skin was beyond his understanding.

He'd had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. He never said a word about it before, though. He liked being your friend and he was afraid of ruining your relationship. The thought of you not reciprocating his feelings was always in the back of his head, so he simply kept quiet.

Today, however... Oh, screw it, it was high time to take the risk.

Benji rolled over and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. With his hair tousled on the pillow, eyes still half-closed, and a lazy smirk on his lips, he snapped a picture. He looked exactly how he wanted to feel: confident, yet charming. Perfect. He added a caption: "So, what’s it like living next to the most handsome guy ever?"

With a deep breath, he hit send. He quickly tossed the phone away as if it burned him. You two were used to each others smartass remarks, but flirting was an entirely different level. Seconds felt like hours, and he started to question his impulsiveness. What if you didn't get the hint? What if you thought hr was being weird? What if you didn't respond, choosing to ignore him? His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind creating the worst-case scenarios wasn't helping at all.

Finally, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, expecting the worst. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the message.

"No idea. I'm pretty sure there's no one in our neighborhood that matches the description."

Benji's heart raced as he read your reply. It was good, really good even. You didn't make fun of him, you just took the chellange. He could work with that. His finger hovered above the screen, trying to come up with a response, when another message from you popped up.

This time, it was a picture. You were also still in bed, your hair a mess, eyes half-closed, looking even sleepier than him. You were clutching a pillow with a playful smile on your lips. His breath hitched in his throat. You were stunning.

"I figured I'd return the favor," you texted then. He grinned as his heart did a little flip.

"Cute," he replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. "But I still look better."

"In your dreams, Blackwood."

"You are in my dreams, Bracken."

There was a pause before you texted back: "Cheesy much?"

"For you? Always."

He stopped for a second. Biting his lip, he thought of doing something riskier. The only thing he was worried about was your reaction.

"Speaking of dreams," he started again after a minute. "I dreamt I stole your pillow. I guess mine's just not as comfy."

There it was. He sent it. And you read it.

There was a brief pause before you answered, but when you did, relief poured over him

"Of course you'd want my pillow, my bed is generally way better, you know. It's not my fault you can't get some decent pillows."

"Nah, it's just the pillow. I've got the coziest setup, Bracken. You'd fall asleep in seconds."

"You're delusional," you texted, and he could imagine you laughing in your room. "I'd show you real cozy, but my bed is off-limits to annoying neighbors."

"I think you meant 'annoyingly charming'", he typed, his smile growing wider. "Admit it, Bracken, you'd let me join you if I asked nicely."

Your reply came quickly, "If you weren't so annoying, maybe, I'd have to think about."

This was it, the opening he was waiting for. Benji took a deep breath and went for it. "Alright, I promise to be on my best behavior. Now, would you be so kind, my lady, and open your window?"

That threw you off a bit. "Why?" You texted, your eyebrows furrowed.

Only seconds after you sent your message, you heard a soft rustling outside. Moving to the window, you pulled back the curtain to see Benji, climbing up to your window with a mischievous grin. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight.

"What the hell, Benji?" you whisper-shouted, quickly opening the window.

"Good morning to you too, y/n," he whispered back, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Are you crazy? If my parents find out you're here, they'll kill you. And then my dad will resurrect you just to kill you again."

Benji chuckled softly. "They'd have to catch me first. Now, are you going to help me in, or are you going to let me fall and have my ghost haunt you for the rest of your life?"

"You're insane", you said but grabbed his arm and helped him climb into your room. He landed softly on your carpet, glancing around your room. "Cozy," he said, sitting on your bed and bouncing slightly on the mattress.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

He stretched out on your bed, hands behind his head. "Testing the coziness, of course. You did say your bed was better, remember?"

You shook your head, sitting next to him. "You know, you could've just walk through the front door? Like a normal human being, Benji. Climbing through my window is a bit... dramatic."

Benji turned to look at you. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, I needed to make sure I had your full attention."

You sighed, but there was no hiding the smile that appeared at your lips. "You've got it. Now what?"

He sat up, closer to you now, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by something more serious. "I like you, Bracken. A lot. More than a friend should like a friend. And I get it, our families, the whole feud thing... but I don't care about any of that when it comes to you. I just... I needed to tell you."

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock and surprise. You though your mind glitched, trying to process his words. He looked so vulnerable now that he had exposed himself and his feelings. "Benji, I..."

But before you could say something more, he cut you off with a nervous laugh. "I know, it's crazy. I just... I needed to tell you."

Your hand reached out and grabbed his. You gave it a soft squeeze and intertwined your fingers. "No, it's not crazy. Actually... To be completely honest, I feel the same way too."

"You-you do?" He stuttered.

"Yeah. I guess I was just scared to say anything because of our families and all that. But... I’m glad you did."

A slow smile spread across his face, lightening it up. "Me too."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. "So, does this mean I get to stay? Not just for the comfy bed, I mean."

You laughed, the sound filling the room. Oh, he could listen to it for eternity. "Yes, Benji. You get to stay."

He grinned, closing the distance between you. "Good," he whispered, before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It was brief but for Benji it was enough.

For now.

[hotdwriter]

A prophecy- Chapter 1

Benjicot Blackwoodx ofc

A girl raised in the sept of dragonstone during the dance of the dragon is tortured by vivid dreams. Her ability is a great asset to the queen, to forsee the future. The house of Blackwood is somehow linked to her dreams, what could that possibly mean?

~4K words

(Can be used as a self insert, due to little to no description of the character)

A few men, with clothing representing their house sigils, were walking up to each other. She couldn´t make out their voices since her view wasn´t clear enough. Suddenly the men started fighting, and in the next second, she only saw dead bodies spread across the meadow and bloodied limbs in the river.

With the blink of an eye, the scenery was long gone, and instead, she now saw the sept in front of her. ´A vision´, she thought. Her breathing became irregular, and her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

An elderly woman dressed in a gray gown walked outside the sept and noticed the girl in front of her. "Vikenja!" The woman snapped her out of her dreamy trance. The girl met the septa and bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "Septa Margareth, I will be inside very soon."

The older woman looked at her with distrust in her eyes. "Always have a good grip on your necklace if you wish not to sin, Vikenja."

Septa Margareth continued to walk down the steps and left quickly afterward to teach the royal children. The girl turned her gaze to her own hands, which now held the pendant of the faith of the seven. A tear fell into her palm, wetting the charm. Since her early childhood, she has dreamed of visions that soon became true.

One would say she was insane; the septa called her stained due to sinful behavior. Vikenja, not being a believer in the faith of the seven, had often gotten into trouble for speaking her mind out loud, belittling the religion she practiced.

Septa Margareth was the only mother-like figure in her life since she was raised in the house of the seven. However, she never truly fit in due to her visions, which were treated as if they were the work of the devil.

Vikenja took a deep breath and stood up again, now entering the seventh. Her first task was to light the candles inside the dark hall. It was cold inside, and the hall looked the opposite of holy. As she began to light the different-sized candles, a new vision flashed before her eyes. It was the same as before, but the view was more clear now.

Vikenja was able to make out the different house sigils. She gasped as she realized the men in front were from House Blackwood, including Lord Samwell, one of the Queen's most loyal supporters. Their bloodied corpse was lying on the grass with an arrow sticking out of it.

In less than a second, the match fell out of her hand and onto the table, which, in return, was lit on fire. A surprised scream erupted in her throat as she quickly searched for a bucket to fill with water and extinguish the fire with it. While smearing the sweat off of her forehead and straightening her hood, she let out a deep breath.

´ I must let Her Grace know of this´, she gasped.

But would the queen even believe the girl? Vikenja hesitated; her gaze was glued to the puddle of water, with multiple drops falling to the marble floor. The Septa might have ignored her ´unholy´ dreams, but the queen could have a different view on this, a ´non-religious´ one.Vikenja quickly ran out of the house and went on her way to the castle.

Thanks to Dragonstone being a small island, the route didn´t take too long. As she arrived at the gates of the castle, a knight noticed the girl's attire and greeted her. "Please bring me to the queen; I have urgent news for Her Grace."

He bowed in return and opened the gates. His footsteps were heavy and fast, echoing through the entire hallway. Vikenja was quick on her heels to follow, and the knight soon stopped in front of a tall door and opened it, announcing Vikenja's presence.

The girl bowed in front of her queen and watched the knight close the door behind him. The queen was in her chambers, sitting in silence as she grieved the death of her son. The atmosphere was thick and overwhelming with sadness.

As the queen turned around to see the girl standing at the door, she quickly stood up and flattened out the folds on her dress.

"Septa Vikenja, might I ask what news you wish to announce?" The girl took a quick breath and corrected her. "I am not a septa yet, your grace. I am still in training," she began. Rhaenyra nodded in acknowledgment, though the confusion was still visible on her face. "Your Grace, it lies in Your judgment to decide what You wish to do with the information, but..."

Vikenja thought about how to tell Her Grace about her dream. "I am afraid that House Blackwood and House Bracken will soon have a battle at the Burning Mill where the men of House Blackwood will fall, including Lord Samwell. I saw it in a vision, Your Grace."

Vikenja's eyes were glossy and droopy. The queen hesitated, unsure how to answer. Her brows furrowed as she looked outside the window and watched the beach. "Do you often have such kinds of visions?"

"I was born with the torment of seeing the future, like some sort of warning, I suppose." Her voice quietened at the end of her sentence.

Rhaenyra looked at her with a certain amount of understanding held in her gaze and took a step forward. "May I?" she asked and proceeded to take off Vikenjas Hood. As the queen saw her silver hair, she raised her head. Her theory was correct; the girl was a true dragon dreamer, just like Rhaenyra's own father. "You´re a dragon seed; it is in your blood to see dreams as vivid as if they were reality."

Vikenja looked at her with a questioning gaze. "Dragonseed? I am afraid I am not able to follow, Your Grace." She wasn´t aware of her parentage, since she was raised in a house where last names did not exist.

"I suppose you do not know about your true parents; it does not matter now, but you are a descendant of House Targaryen. In our lineage, some have been born with the ability to foresee the future." The queen now held Vikenja by her shoulders in a comforting manner.

"It is a burden and a blessing at once."

Rhaenyra sat on the couch and motioned for Vikenja to do the same. The girl slowly made her way to the red furniture and let herself fall on the comforter. "I must thank you for trusting me with this personal information, though I must admit my confusion. A dragon's dream is mostly linked to one's future; it must mean that you are somehow linked to the battle of the burning mill."

Feeling the anxiety rise in her body, Vikenja began to pick at her short fingernails, and her lip began to quiver. Her being linked to such a grotesque event was troubling her mind. How could she possibly have anything to do with the murder of hundreds of men? "I do not understand, Your Grace."

Noticing the self-harm, Rhaenyra quickly took the girl's hand in her own and carefully caressed it. She then took a strand of Vikenja's hair and tucked it behind her ear, caressing her head in a motherly way. Rhaenyra knew the girl lacked a mother figure in her life, and she felt herself magically drawn to comfort the child; somehow she saw her son Lucery in the girl.

"I am afraid I cannot give you an explanation behind the meaning of it." Vikenja slowly leaned into the queen's touch, letting her own guard down. "Tell me, dear child, how old are you?"

"My fourteenth name day was three moons ago, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra looked down at their interwoven hands and sighed softly. "Tell me, Vikenja. Do you wish to live the rest of your life in September?" The unexpected question made Vikenja overthink her current situation. The religion that was forced upon her made her feel imprisoned, but she never thought about anything else.

It was always very clear to her that she´d become a Septa and practice the faith of the seven until she would grow too old to see another day in this world. "I suppose I didn´t give it much thought, but I don´t have much of a choice," she said, turning her head to the other side so that the queen wouldn´t see the tear falling down her face.

"You could live here in the castle, grow up, and learn more about your ancestry." Vikenja's eyes widened at the offer. Why would the queen do such a thing? "I have nothing to offer in return, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra averted her gaze down to her feet as she let go of Vikenja's hand. She then stood up and paced around the room, Vikenja's eyes watching her the entire time.

"We are currently at war. I need everyone's help, especially if they can foresee the future. Besides, you have the dragon's blood flowing through your veins, and there are untamed dragons on this island."

Rhaenyra truly felt bad; she knew her offer would give her a worse fate than living the rest of her life in a boring Sept. It was selfish of her to involve a girl in the war, but Rhaenyra was desperate.

The queen stopped in the middle of the room to await the girl's answer. "Are you sure, Your Grace?" Sincerity was written across the queen's face as she took Vikenja's hands again. She pulled the girl from the comforter and took her into an embrace. "Your presence would be appreciated greatly."

The girl nodded slowly as she pulled out of the embrace. A physical touch from the queen herself made her feel conflicted. It felt like a mother's embrace, which made Vikenja slightly uncomfortable.

"Do not fret; I will announce it myself to the Septa Margareth. You might go to your new chamber; Ser Lares will show it to you." Rhaenyra opened the door and whispered something to the knight standing behind the walls of the queen's chamber. He nodded in return and bowed in front of Vikenja, motioning for her to follow in his footsteps once again.

"Your Grace," she said, lowering her head and leaving the Queen Chambers. She walked through the castle's hallway at a quick pace. The walls were thick, the stone was of a dark color, and the surface of the floor was marbled, similar to the sept. Vikenja was able to see her reflection on the marble. She had a troubled expression, and her eyebags turned a light purple. Her new life would be dangerous from now on; it was even expected of her to bond with a beast, which even the bravest of men were afraid of.

The girl almost stumbled into the knight when he halted in front of a dark brown door. "Your chambers, Lady Vikenja."

Her brows furrowed at the newly given title. She bid him goodbye as she entered her new chamber. To the right was a tall window, showing the scenery of the cold sea. In the middle was a queen-sized bed with golden charms carved into the bedframe. She stood on a black carpet; she presumed it was from sheep.

Next to the bed was a nightstand, graced with candles, and a bathtub next to a closet. The room radiated a certain amount of warmth and comfort that she wasn´t familiar with. Everything looked so expensive and luxurious; she never would have thought she´d see the privilege of living with royalty. Vikenja walked up to the bed and caressed the soft material of the bedsheet.

She closed her eyes in delight at the newfound softness. A knock came from outside the door, and a maid entered with a gown that was black and red. The maid was a young girl herself, not older than seventeen.

"Lady Vikenja, the queen requested for me to give you a bath and dress you in the gown I´ve brought." She nodded and walked towards the maid, asking for her name. "Belise, my lady."

"I can take a bath alone; please leave the gown on the bed." The maid nodded and filled the bath with water before putting the dress on the bed and closing the doors behind her.

Vikenja exhaled deeply as she took off her gray gown, stepping into the warm water. She took off the religious pendant hanging around her neck, throwing it on the ground with enough force to see its break.

She then closed her eyes as she sat down. The candles in front of her flickered while she let her thoughts run freely. This would be her new life now, being washed in the freshest of water and clothed in the silkiest gowns in the entire realm. It all felt surreal for her, like it was all a dream she was having.

Her dreams all held a warning, so she was told. Was this also one?

-----

Rhaenyra walked into the library, where she found the septa Margareth teaching embroidery to the princesses Rhaena and Baela. Both of the girls shared the same bored expression. It seemed like they did not care at all for such things, especially when they could be training outside instead.

"Septa Margareth, a word, please" the queen said, shifting her weight on one foot and playing with her golden ring. "Your Grace," the two girls mumbled before leaving the hall, leaving the two women alone. The Septa stood up from her stool and bowed in front of the queen. "Your Grace, is something troubling you?"

Rhaenyra cleared her throat before answering, "The Lady Vikenja will not continue her training." Instead, she will be staying here in the castle." She gave the Septa a short explanation, refusing to give her any more clues.

The Septa opened her mouth to reply, shocked to hear such a thing. Rhaenyra interrupted her, not giving her the chance to ask more questions. "I will not repeat myself Vikenja will stay here from now on. Tell the princesses their class is finished for today."

Rhaenyra didn´t wait for an answer and quickly spun on her heel to leave the library. She was aware of the weight of her actions. She may have caused the future death of a child, but she had to do it, didn´t she? Or was it Daemon entering her head and influencing her judgment?

Speaking of which, he still has not returned, and she has ceased to care for him. Rhaenyra selfishly projected her dead son onto the girl, easing her grief by mothering Vikenja.

--------

The feeling of comfort suddenly left Vikenja's body, as she was now aware of her newfound duty. Vikenja quickly washed her hair with the oils that had been put to the side and readied herself to meet the queen again.

As soon as she opened the doors, Ser Lares turned to her and stepped aside. "The queen has requested your presence in the grand hall." Vikenja gave him a quick nod and walked beside him.

The doors were opened by a different knight as Ser Lares led her inside. In the middle were multiple people gathered around a long table, which was a map of Westeros. The queen stood at the front, next to a boy a bit older than Vikenja, as she met the girl's gaze, her eyes lightening up at the dress the girl wore.

"Lady Vikenja Waters, please accompany me." She smiled softly, but her voice held a firm tone of authority. The Lords who stood beside her looked at her with curious eyes. As her eyes wandered through the different people, she noticed a man who looked familiar. His clothes were of the same color as her gown, though his sigil was the one of Blackwood. Vikenja met his gaze, and then she realized it was Lord Samwell.

The dead man in her vision Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked at the queen, who slightly nodded and took her hand in her own.

"Is the bastard a dragon seed?" Lord Staunton spoke freely without mincing his words. The girl felt under pressure as she felt her anxiety rise once again.

"As you can see, Lady Vikenja is of Targaryen descent; she bears the blood of the dragon." She lives here in the castle and will soon claim a dragon, so we will have more dragonriders on our side."The brunette next to Rhaenyra watched Vikenja with distrust in his eyes, similar to the Septa Margareth. He didn´t know Vikenja's true intentions.

Vikenja glanced at her silver hair while listening to the queen's words. She was never aware of the fact that her hair color held significance—not even the blood that ran through her veins. Lord Samwell glanced at the girl's face, and his gaze wandered down to her body. "How old is the lady?"

"Fourteen, my lord," she answered loudly enough for him to hear. He nodded quickly and seemed to be in thought afterward. The queen returned to the political discussion they held before Vikenja's arrival. While trying to pick up any of the information the conversation withheld, she understood little to nothing.

After the meeting was over and the Lords left, Rhaenyra shifted her attention to the girl next to her. "Do you wish to visit the dragonmont with me?" she asked, giving her a small smile.

Vikenja nodded, unsure whether to say something or to keep quiet. "You will learn everything about political arrangements when the time comes, dear child." She caressed the girl's shoulder as she led her to her own dragon.

The girl gasped as they got near it, never having seen a dragon up close. She wasn´t as scared as she thought she´d be, but instead was in awe.

"Her name is Syrax." Rhaenyra walked up to the dragon and petted its head. Vikenja giggled as she watched the dragon lean into its owner's touch. Rhaenyra guided Vikenjas Hand to pet the she-dragon. The scales under her palm were a weird sensation for the girl.

Rhaenyra felt a tear slip from her eye as she watched the girl caress the dragon. The girl's nervousness and naivety reminded her a lot of Lucery. It might have been the reason she offered housing to the strange girl.

"You will need to know commands before claiming your dragon. The words Dohaeris mean to obey, Lykiri means calm, Soves means to fly, and Dracarys means dragon fire. You will need to know how to calm the dragon beforehand, so it won´t be alarmed by your presence."

Vikenja nodded, processing the new information. "The dragons are somewhere up on the dragonmount. There are three of them in total, the gray ghost, the cannibal, and the sheepstealer. The cannibal is rumored to be a dragon with black scales, while the gray ghost shares the same color as its name, and the sheepstealer has a brown color to its scales."

Rhaenyra refrained from explaining the dragon's names to Vikenja, not wanting to fear the girl.

Rhaenyra proceeded to point up to the volcano in front of them. Next to it was the narrow sea. "Be careful."

Vikenja nodded and bid her goodbye, walking towards the sea. The air was fresh and smelled salty, and the water was a beautiful light blue. By taking her shoes off, she could go into the cold sea, her dress getting drenched while bathing her feet.

As she looked up into the sky, she noticed a white figure pacing through the clouds that hid the sun. ´It must be the Grey Ghost´, she thought. His scales were pale gray-white, and his build was slender, which made it hard for her to see him. Vikenja slowly made her way out of the water, drying her feet with her gown before putting on her boots again. She hummed a soft melody in the hope of awakening the dragon's curiosity.

She then began to walk around the sea, still humming the melody that she was familiar with. It was the same melody that she always hummed to fall asleep due to her fear of sleeping alone. It always calmed her nerves when she was left alone.

Minutes, eventually an hour, had passed, and she was still humming the melody. Vikenja was going to stop, but then she saw the same figure in the clouds again. She quickly began to realize that the dragon was encircling her, flying to the music she was producing. Vikenja held out a hand as she hummed more loudly now.

The dragon landed on the volcano and screeched at her. "Lykiri, Grey Ghost," she said as she put a hand in his direction. She began to walk up towards the dragon, trying her best to be slow and calm. "Lykiri," she repeated, but now in a firm tone. The dragon lowered its head as it awaited Vikenja. She continued to hum the song while taking the last step towards the dragon, and then she waited for the dragon to lean its head into her palm while whispering Lykiri the entire time.

The shy dragon slowly leaned into her touch as he listened to her commands. "Dohaeris, Grey Ghost!" she exclaimed while walking to the dragon's body, climbing it slowly. As soon as she sat on top, she regretted her decision to not have a saddle.

But she knew this was her chance to bond with the dragon, so she commanded him to fly.

"Dohaeris, Soves, Grey Ghost!" she exclaimed, the anxiety raising in her voice. The dragon stood up and began to walk before quickly taking to the sky. Vikenja had to grip his horns so she wouldn´t fall. She screamed as the air whipped her face, closing her eyes.

When she noticed that the dragon's movements were more smooth, she opened her eyes again to see the scenery before her. She held one hand out to graze through the clouds. It was a calming experience, it was nothing like she expected it to be. Due to the bond between Vikenja and her dragon, she was able to feel his emotions the other way around. Their personalities were similar in a way, both have always been alone.

Vikenja smiled as she petted his back. Both of them continued to fly for a few more hours until it was time for supper. Her dragon landed on the beach, in front of her chambers. She quickly dismounted him and sent him back to fly away, before alarming the guards of her presence.

Four dragonkeepers were soon sent, carrying a saddle for the dragon. When Vikenja called her dragon, she had to calm him the entire time, so that the men could do their work. She felt her anxiety rise due to feeling the dragon's stress.

She softly hummed the same melody as before, until the dragon keepers were finished and Grey Ghost could fly back into the sky and away from the castle.

Vikenja felt proud of herself for the first time in her life. She felt as if she had accomplished something that would change her life forever. With a dragon on her side, she was now a force to be reckoned with.

The girl soon went into the castle to meet with the queen and tell her about her accomplishments. The queen welcomed her with an embrace, which Vikenja awkwardly accepted. Rhaenyra kissed the top of her head and told her how proud she was of her. The more time Rhaenyra spent in the girl's presence, the more she didn´t want to let go of her. She couldn´t make the same mistake twice, could she?

[skyrigel]

“Pretty when you smile”

Pairing: Benjicot blackwood x Bracken!reader

Benji masterlist

“A settlement was made but they never said anything about the pretty bride and a smitten groom.”

Drinking, arranged marriage, fluffy fluff and smitten!Benjicot, slurred humour.

“ They never said about the pretty part.” you looked up, as lord of Riverdale stumbled, his face splitting around his huge grin, almost devilishly.

“ Look at you.” Ben slurred, despite knocking a goblet along with it's contents down, he managed to slump next to you on the bed, with a low thud and sheepish laugh.

“ You're drunk.” you almost snarled before you bit back, “my lord.” you added with a smile, he wasn't actually offended, he smiled just the same, like a fool that nicked a coin.

“ I almost refused—” he hiccuped, “ but then I saw you darling.” he propped on his elbow, reeking of whatever he was drunk on, perhaps a wine that was made on the northern aisles. His eyes widened more, like he was looking at you for the first time and it made you smile, it did back then too when he married you by the gods, taking your hand forever, smiling and it was inevitable not to, but you smiled anyway.

Brides never smiled, especially those who were traded for peace, it was duty. Never love.

But then again, who wouldn't ? Ben had that glint in his eyes that was funny but also, relaxing, like the sun rising and whispering, it's going to be alright or the moon basking and singing, you're safe child.

“ saw you...” he murmured against your jaw, tracing a fine line, his fingers sweaty and syrupy, until he stopped at the corner of your mouth, watching you intently.

“ M-my lord..” you weren't sure what to say and you never did, the words strangled on their way, wrecking before they ever made it out. Benjicot amused himself, his cheeks flushed but this rosey glow that devoured his way was new, perked only when you smiled, like you had done at the wedding few hours ago.

“ You are so beautiful.” he cried, like a chanting, a prayer. You could taste his skin on your tongue, as his thumb slowly dipped inside, swiping across your velvety mouth.

“ Thankyou my lord.” you wouldn't blink, his sweetness was too much, almost getting you intoxicated.

“ shhh.” his mouth curved in 'o', face reaching up close to you, eyes dazed but you could see your reflection back. “ call me Ben, or benny.” He giggled, it wasn't very odd to hear that rich melodious sound tingle your skin, so close to you, like waves crashing.

“ or benji.” he added after a chortling, you couldn't help the snort that escaped you, surprising you while Ben only grinned.

“ You are so pretty, especially when you smile. ” he said, joining his lips on yours in a constellation of stars, every thought bursting into sweet nothings, his mouth was sweet, fruity and toxicating, the glee you felt inside you was very similar to nicking a extra goblet of wine that wasn't appropriate for a lady, like floating and feeling nothing could touch you, like almost a dream where everything could be true, like music and poetry, like everything beautiful, kissing him felt like kissing the sky, no, it felt bigger than the whole sky.

And they never said about the love part, but perhaps...

Navigation

[gtgbabie0]

-Benjicot Blackwood x Arryn!Reader

{Benjicot doesn’t mind getting his hands bloodied if it means protecting your honour}

word count- 1.7k

!CW!//vulgar language, descriptions of blood// Enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The Vale was all harsh winds and rain since the sun had first begun to rise above the horizon, a thick layer of fog rolls through the high mountains and over the hills creating a rather eerie atmosphere around the courtyard of Raventree hall.

You sit on the balcony that overlooks the training grounds with your sister, Jeyne Arryn, protected from the light rain by the stoney overhang. You both had been asked to unite your houses for a few days in hopes of getting the men more accustomed to the sword and shield a little faster.

It had been going great in all honesty, they seemed to have lifted each other spirits despite the pressure of the looming war.

“Is your friend down there?” Jeyne smirks, looking over at you with a playful gleam in her eyes.

She takes joy in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly, how you move away from the edge to slouch back into your chair. “No, not yet.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest in a harrumph.

You roll your eyes at Jeyne and the sound of her chuckles, smiling into her cup whilst she continues to tease you. Her jabs are soon cut off by the sound of men cheering and metal clanging together in excitement.

You immediately lean back over the stone railing of the balcony, looking down at the group of men searching for…

Benjicot. He had made quite a name for himself over the past few moons, his way with a sword was… wild to put it more kindly. He was a madman on the battlefield, charging in with absolutely no fear, the complete opposite of the shy boy you grew up with.

For a small second your gazes meet. He waves softly, sending you a sweet smile which you happily return before he’s dragged away to the training yard by his friends.

The sound of your sister’s giggling snaps you out of the moment, your face twisting into a small frown. “Do not start.” You huff, slouching back into the chair with a pout.

Your sister makes small conversation, keeping it light as you watch over the training. Benjicot found it hard to stay focused, his mind drifting over to the fact that you were watching him with your pretty eyes.

The pair of you shared plenty of fleeting moments together, lingering touches and sweet whispered words. You danced along the line of friends and something more but neither of you took the leap, too scared of ruining the deep friendship you have.

Benjicot sits on a tree stump, cleaning his sword with a rag as his eyes glance between the balcony where you sit and the men around the training yard. He was miles away, thinking about how he could see you tonight… perhaps a walk through the garden… or maybe sneaking you into the kitchens.

His mind soon gets away from him, all of his thoughts consumed by you… but then again when are they not?

The sound of two rowdy men snaps him out of his trance, his expression immediately darkening with his brows pinched together tightly. They sound drunk as they speak horrid nonsense about women, barely able to hold their swords let alone stand on two feet.

“I’d fuck her… bet her cunt is tight too, ey?” The taller one says, harshly nudging the other man's shoulder almost sending him tumbling to the floor.

Benjicots fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles going white with anger. He hopes for their sake that they’re not talking about you. “Mhm… bet shes a squealer.” The other man agrees, the pair of them chuckling.

The sound goes right through Ben, his blood running cold as he watches them cast their predatory gaze over to you as you lean curiously over the edge of the balcony.

The sword that he was cleaning drops to the floor with a dull thud. He acts way before he thinks, his body moving without hesitation and before he knows it he’s coiling back his arm, colliding his tight fist down against one of the taller drunkards face as the other scurries off.

A crimson colour stains his knuckles, the blood warm and wet in between his fingers. The adrenaline overshadows the pain that shoots down his arm, reducing it to a mere tingle that he’ll surely feel later on. He watches the fool drop to the damp, cold ground, writhing in pain whilst clutching his nose as it weeps a thick red.

Benjicot opens and closes his hand, trying to lessen the ache. “Perhaps next time you’ll hold your tongue.” He sneers before storming off with a mean glare that makes everyone step out of his way.

You had watched the whole scene unfold, worry immediately settling in the pit of your stomach, etching across your face. Your sister tells you to ‘stay put’ however her words fall upon deaf ears as you rush back inside, running down the halls and the twists and turns of the castle.

The Maesters chambers are where you find Benjicot. His aunt walks out of the room with a displeased expression, however, the candlelight gives away the amusement that flickers through her dark eyes.

She greets you with a warm smile, nodding her head. You return the action before slipping into the room, your gaze immediately finding his as he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Hey…” his words break through the silence, the crackle of the hearth taking over once more as you wordlessly walk deeper into the room.

His hand was submerged in a dark oak basin, the water inside had long turned murky with a minty almost medicinal aroma. You sit down on the chair adjacent to his own, brows pinched together in concern.

“Where’s the Maester?” You ask, looking at him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Gone to get some sort of balm… I don’t need it.” His words make you tut, shaking your head as you watch him pull his hand out of the water. He seethes a little in pain, teeth clenched.

You reach over for a cloth, drying off his hand but whilst being careful to not cause him any more discomfort, he was already shifting and squirming in his chair.

“What even happened?” You sigh, holding his injured hand against your lap. Your thumb ever so gently caresses his palm in such a way that it makes his mind spin and his heart skip a beat.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “They— they were making… distasteful… comments towards you. I won’t repeat them.” He tells you, shaking his head firmly.

“How silly… look at your hands over some words.” You scold lightly, although there was no real bite to your soft tone. You couldn’t be, in fact, the thought of him defending you like this sends a pleasant warmth blooming through your chest. Although you wouldn’t tell him that, for his own sake.

“I’m fine, I have no regrets. They deserved it.” He states, watching the way you bring his knuckles into the candlelight to assess the damage.

They were red raw, the skin split open at the tips of each knuckle save for his thumb. A purplish colour tints the delicate skin, the shade darker around the cuts then fading off into a more dull colour. It certainly was not fine.

“You should be more careful.” Your words are hushed, whispered into the air, so soft that if he weren’t sitting so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear you. His eyes meet your own once more, admiring the way the candles cast an orangey light across your pretty features.

His fingers itch to reach out and tuck a loose curl behind your ear, to graze the back of his fingers along to warm cheek. But he refrains, even the mere thought has his stomach swarming with nervous butterflies.

You take another thin sheet of cloth, edges ragged with loose threads and the fabric an off-white colour. He looks at you with a quizzical expression, watching you dip one end of the cloth into the basin.

Before he can ask any questions you’re already leaning closer to him, knees bumping together. Your hand reaches out to ever so gently cup his jaw, fingers curling against his cheek to hold his head still whilst you wipe away a small mud stain just under his eye.

“Thank you…” he says, breath hitching in his throat at the way your thumb brushes along his warm cheek.

“No, I should be thanking you, really.” Your words make him smile, his eyes softening. “Thank you,” You add, your eyes searching his own.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t, not with you so close to him. He fears that he might have ruined the moment when silence wraps around the room. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself or if he should move the hand that rests upon your lap.

He lets out a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to will the words from his lips but none come and it only serves to cause his mind to spiral, cursing himself and his inability to speak.

The feeling of your lips against his cheek brings him back, his worries and fears ebbing away until the only thing that was on his mind is your flowery perfume and the softness of the kiss. He finally lets out a breath. His hand rests against your knee as you pull back, a pang of disappointment hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to thank me… I’d never let anyone slander your name, but either way, you are welcome.” He finally manages to speak, the words tumbling out of his lips rather ungracefully.

You entwine your fingers with his own, minding his roughened knuckles, holding his hand ever so gently with your own. His thumb caressing the inside of your wrist, the calluses feel strangely nice.

“Perhaps afterwards we could walk through the gardens?” The suggestion makes his heart skip a beat, the image was already vivid in his mind, walking arm in arm with you.

“Of course, if it would please you, my lady.” He replies, hoping the words sound more graceful than before.

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. Your warm hands still in his own, the kiss lingering on his cheek, your knees pressing against either side of his own and your honeyed gaze still upon him… he realises he’s completely doomed, you hold his heart in the palm of his hand.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

[leftoverpages]

Underneath the Steel

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood × Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 angst, brief character death mention, sleep paralysis, fluff at the end, reader uses she/her but no physical description, romance if you squint really hard

Notes: request by @ithilwen-aranel !

I need a fic where reader is a Targ princess and dragon rider and a known fierce warrior, like Visenya reincarnated level warrior but nobody knows that she has sleep paralysis. So she's marching with House Blackwood to Harrenhal and it's nighttime so they're in tents and her and Benji's tents happen to be next to each other. So that night she gets an attack/episode and he hears her muffled cries and sobs and he helps her get out of it and he finally sees the girl inside the warrior and he comforts her by showing that he has vulnerable sides too and stuff. (sorry if it's messy and chaotic haha but l WANT MORE FLUFF)

Wordcount 𓅪 1.4k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The cold wind swept through the camp as the soldiers of House Blackwood settled for the night. Tents dotted the landscape, bathed in the pale light of a crescent moon. Among them was a tent marked with the sigil of House Targaryen, on it, a dragon standing tall.

Inside, the Targaryen princess sharpened her blade, her mind a battlefield of its own. Known to many as a fierce warrior, she was often compared to Visenya Targaryen, a legend reborn. She had led her dragon into countless battles, her swordsmanship and ferocity unmatched.

But, as night fell and the camp quieted, a darker struggle loomed. Under her strong exterior, she had a secret as old as her lineage, a shadow that haunted her dreams-sleep paralysis. She had fought countless ennemies on the battlefield, but none of them were as terrifying as the darkness that gripped her in the night.

Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord of House Blackwood, laid restless in his tent. The march to Harrenhal stayed heavily on his mind. His thoughts drifted to the princess, their tents stood side by side. Her reputation preceded her, but Benjicot had seen glimpses of something beyond the warrior facade—a quiet sadness in her eyes.

As he drifted to sleep, muffled cries were heard in the night. Benjicot sat up, his senses sharp. The sounds were coming from the Targaryen tent. Frowning, he woke, moving silently.

Inside her tent, the princess was trapped. Her body laid motionless, her eyes open, her breath uneven. Shadows stood at the corner of her eyes, mocking her. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. The nightmare always started the same: she was in a big and empty field. Her dragon was nowhere to be seen. Panic rose up inside her as she realized she was alone.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Shadowy figures emerged, their forms indistinct, as if they were made of smoke.

"You're weak," they hissed, with their chilling voices. "You will fail them all."

She tried to take her sword, but her body refused to move. Her limbs were turned to stone. She was desperate as the figures approached her, their cold fingers brushing against her skin, leaving trails of ice behind.

Her breath became faster. She could feel her heart pounding. The shadows wrapped around her, tightening their grip, almost suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she was unable to move, a silent plea for help left her lips.

As the nightmare continued, the shadows began to transform into faces she knew - friends, comrades, and family members, with twisted expressions.

"Why didn't you save us?" they cried, their voices full with anger. "You are supposed to be our protector!"

The guilt crashed over her as she could feel herself slipping, the line between reality and nightmare blurring. The faces closer, their features more distinct, their voices louder.

"Help," she managed to whisper, the word barely audible.

Benjicot pushed aside the tent flap. He saw her, tears streaming down her face.

Instinctively, he knelt beside her, his voice soft yet urgent.

"Princess, can you hear me?"

She did not respond, her eyes locked in a terror. Benjicot hesitated, then gently touched her shoulder. "Princess? You need to wake up."

The warmth of his touch broke through her. Slowly, she regained control, her body shaking as the paralysis faded. Her sobs flowing freely now.

She looked at Benjicot, her fierce demeanor shattered. "You saw..." He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Aye, I saw. And I see you, the real you. It's all right."

She wiped her tears, frustrated. "I hate this. I'm supposed to be strong."

Benjicot sat beside her. "Strength isn't just about physical strength or riding a dragon. It's about facing your fears." She looked at him.

"Do you ever feel like you're drowning in expectations?"

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Every day. The burden of leadership, the pressure to protect my people... it's overwhelming."

He reached out, encircling her in a gentle embrace. He held her close, offering his presence. "But in moments like these, you have to remember that we are not alone. We have allies who will stand by us, who will fight beside us."

She let herself breathe deeply, the tension slowly fading away. A reminder that vulnerability did not equate to weakness.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding between them. In that moment, they were no longer just a Targaryen and a Blackwood. They were two souls, each bearing their own scars. She took a deep breath as she sat there.

"I've fought battles, slain men twice my size, and ridden my dragon through storms of arrows. But this... this is different."

Benjicot nodded, his gaze steady. "It's the battles we fight within ourselves that are often the hardest. But you don't have to fight them alone."

She hesitated, vulnerability warring with her warrior's pride. "It's... it's been like this since I was a child. The shadows, the paralysis. I've learned to mask it, to be strong. But some nights..."

"Some nights, it's too much," Benjicot finished for her, his voice gentle. She nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"Yes. I fear that one day it might break me."

He squeezed her gently, his embrace a shield against her fears. He reached out, his hand covering hers.

"It won't. Because you're stronger than you know. And because you have allies who will stand by you, even in the darkest of nights."

She squeezed his hand, finding solace in his words. "Thank you, Benjicot."

"Always," he replied, his smile reassuring. "And if you ever need someone to sit with you through the night, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. She looked up at him, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Will you... stay with me?" Benjicot nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

He settled beside her, his presence a calming presence. She lied closer to him, finding comfort in the rhythm of his breathing. In the safety of his arms, she finally allowed herself to drift into slumber, the weight of her fears lifted for the night.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the camp, the princess took a deep breath, the remnants of her nightmare dissipating with the morning mist. Benjicot remained by her side, his presence a steady anchor.

As the camp stirred awake with the dawn, they lay intertwined. They were warriors, yes, but in each other's embrace, they found a refuge from the shadows that haunted them both.

As they walked under the dawn's embrace, they stood united, ready to conquer both the battles ahead and the shadows within.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - pt2

Pt 2 of His Princess

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Summary: Rhaenyra asks y/n to take her host to Harrenhal to speak to Daemon. Y/n rises to the challenge of Daemon and the River Lords watch on in shock and silence.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, political plotting, prob wine somewhere in a cup, bathing, thigh riding, face riding, p in v

Authors Note: soft moments w silverwing and ben, i believe this man would beg you teach him some high valyrian just so he could talk to silverwing and write it down and keep it in his pocket, idc if it’s unrealistic to pet a dragons belly it’s real to me!!, daemon needs to LEAVE harrenhal and step tf up like enough already

Word Count: 4.7k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the past week I’ve been in contact with Jace about the status of our growing host in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra has finally returned home and expresses her gratitude for the swords that I’ve raised for her. She takes over the correspondence from Jace as we begin to discuss who is on our side and best ways to bring the other Lords to our cause.

She confides to me concerning her worry about Daemon. She has asked that I meet Ser Alfred Broome in Harrenhal and see if Daemon can be brought to reason. She hopes that he will start to relax and hopefully return to Dragonstone upon seeing their host. We have been on the move ever since her request while slowly adding swords along the way.

“We should reach Harrenhal on the morrow.” Ben ducks into the tent as I lounge on the makeshift bed.

“Thank the Gods. I need a fucking bath.” I slide over so he can join me.

“You still look absolutely divine to me.” as he pulls me into him.

“Oh I’m sure,” I roll my eyes. “The dirt and grime are very comely.” I sigh looking at my nails.

“At Harrenhal I’ll make sure you get the largest and hottest bath available. Even if it means displacing its current Lord.” he promises.

“I’ll hold you to that.” I hum. “I have no idea what state Daemon is in.” I sigh, wiping my face.

“He should be happy you’ve raised a host.” Ben murmurs as he finger brushes through my hair.

“We can only hope.” I moan as his fingers scratch along my scalp as I turn so he can continue his movements.

“Let’s hope they have feed to spare for Silverwing. She’s been eyeing our host for some time now.” he chuckles as he begins to loosely braid my hair.

“Mm, speaking of, I should take her out to hunt.” I sigh stretching out as he completes the plait.

“Will you let me come with you this time?” his eyes light up as he pleads.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.” I chuckle as I begin to rise and stretch out.

I slowly put my riding armor back on as Ben quickly pulls his own armor on stumbling after me out of the tent. The host around us is now up to 5,000 swords and it’s easy to get lost in the chaos that surrounds us daily. We see the outline of Silverwing in the trees as we approach.

“Wait,” Ben pulls me to a stop. “It’s Hello my beast Silverwing?” a laugh bubbles out of my mouth as his face turns red.

“Y/n, my Princess, please.” he begs trying to hide his embarrassment.

“If you say that she will never allow you to ride with me.” I try to settle my giggles. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I look to him and nod for him to repeat.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing?” his Riverland accent makes the sentence sound funny but he’s got the words down at least.

“Well let’s go see if I get to keep enjoying you or if her meal has delivered itself to her.” I pull him by his arm with a smile on my face. I nod at him to go greet my sleeping dragon as I stand nearby.

“Hello,” his voice slightly stumbles as she begins to stir. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I hear the confidence in his voice as Silverwing begins to rise.

She looks over to me and then looks down at Ben and huffs. His hair is blown askew by her deep breath as she lowers her head to his height. He puts his hands up as I continue to give her a stern look. She gives a soft chirp before she pushes him with her snout.

“I didn’t learn any other words. Y/n says my accent is funny.” he speaks softly to Silverwing as he settles his hands on the side of her jaw.

She softly blinks at him and then looks to me as if I was so mean for stating the obvious to him. Ben slowly relaxes as he continues to offer her pats. She watches him intently as he begins to walk the length of her. She thuds back to the ground and rolls onto her side for him to pat her belly.

“Oh you big baby.” I chuckle lovingly as I approach them both. We continue to offer her pats and words of adoration until she grumbles and begins to turn back over. “He wants to come with us to hunt.” her eyes lock with mine and narrow. She closes her eyes and dips her wing down for us to climb up.

“Let’s see how this goes.” I breathe out as I gesture for him to start climbing.

“What do I grab on to?” he turns to me suddenly nervous.

“Whatever you can. I’ll be right behind you.” I nod reassuringly as he grabs on to her leg. Silverwing chuffs as we slowly climb on and settle into the saddle. I clip us in and his arms wrap around my waist tightly.

“It’s not too late to get down.” I turn my head and offer to him softly.

“No, it’ll be fun.” he nods as he tries to strengthen his resolve but his words come out a little breathy.

“Fly, Silverwing.” she rises to her full height and I feel Ben’s hands lock tightly together around me.

She launches us into the sky and I feel Ben press his head into my back. I chuckle wildly as she circles our host and gives them an eerie song. We coast along the breeze until we reach the river and she slowly begins to dip down. Ben slowly releases his hands and begins to look down at the land below us.

“What a fucking rush.” he chuckles with me as Silverwing dips into the river to collect fish.

She continues to collect more fish and spits them out on the nearby shore. Once she has a large pile she lands and scorches the fish in a burning pyre. She quickly chomps down on her meal as we stay firmly seated basking in her power.

“Should we get-“

Silverwing shoots us back into the clouds as Ben gasps, handing flying around my waist once more. I raise my hands from the reins and allow my fingertips to caress the clouds as we fly back to camp. With enough encouragement, Ben releases his hands from my waist and allows his fingers to dance in the clouds with us.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We begin marching out just before dawn. The men grumble but are looking forward to making it to Harrenhal finally. Silverwing is becoming restless the closer we get to the Crownlands as she can feel the tension pulsing through us.

We mainly ride the breeze only going in front of the host when we’re about an hour out from the castle. As I approach, Caraxes high pitched song pierces my ears. Silverwing gives out a greeting as we circle back to our host. Caraxes seems to have stayed at the castle much to my relief that Daemon isn’t feeling particularly reckless today.

I land outside the gates and await the host to break through the trees. Once Ben is at my side we begin to approach the gates as they grind open. Daemon swaggers out and looks to me with his hand on his sword pommel.

“Y/n.” he looks at me and the men behind me as if he’s unimpressed.

“Daemon.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I’ve claimed Harrenhal.” I squint my eyes at his words.

“And I’ve raised a host.” I shake my head at him confused.

“For who?” he tilts his head to me.

“What is wrong with you? What do you mean? For Rhaenyra.” I approach him studying him.

“It seems as if his knees are bent to you the way he hovers behind you.” he raises his chin to Ben who has indeed followed close behind me on approach.

“Get over yourself. Are we welcome or no. You wanted an army and I’ve brought you one.” my voice starts to rise as I tire of his antics and want the bath I was promised.

“Did she send you?” Daemons eyes squint.

“You’re going fucking mad, Daemon. We are staying. I’m taking the largest bathtub.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. “His knees are bent to me and he’s mine. He’s not to be touched by anyone.” Daemon smirks at my words as he gestures with his arm for us to enter.

“Welcome,” Lord Simon says as the gates groan the rest of the way open. “Welcome to Harrenhal.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I almost sob looking at the massive bath made before me. I make quick work of my clothes and armor as servants whisk them away to clean them before leaving me alone. The second the seaming water engulfs me all of my muscles sigh in relief. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and I groan.

“What?” I grit out through my teeth.

“It’s me.” Ben peeks his head around the door.

“Then get in here and shut the door. I’m in the fucking bath, Ben.” I hiss at him and feel instantly bad as I know I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on him. “I’m sorry,” I sigh out. “What’s wrong?” I sink lower into the pool.

“You didn’t invite me and I felt left out.” his voice teasing. I grab his hand and begin to pull him in with me. He bats my hand away chucking as he takes his clothes off before slipping in the water next to me.

“Better?” I ask resting my head on his shoulder.

“Much.” he hums content. “What happened with Daemon earlier?” he asks softly before grabbing the soap next to us so we can begin our deep clean.

“He’s going insane. I have no idea what’s wrong with him.” I shake my head not knowing how I’m supposed to deal with this. Hopefully Ser Alfred will arrive soon and offer his support.

“What did he say?” he asks as helps me wash my hair once he’s finished his.

“He knows you’re loyal to me. I don’t think he trusts Rhaenyra. His words seemed off and paranoid. I’ll send a raven to Rhaenyra in the morning.” I know my tone is slightly clipped, I’m just done discussing pressing matters. I want to enjoy my bath while a handsome man dotes on me.

“Maybe it’s this old, haunted castle. They say it’ll turn the most sane man mad.” Ben thinks to himself as he rinses out my hair. I’m thankful we’re finally clean but I can’t handle this conversation any longer.

“Ben, I need you to be quiet and make me feel good or leave. I do not wish to discuss strategy or ghosts.” he chuckles as I turn and he takes in my scrunched brow.

“I’m sorry, my Princess. Is the war boring you?” he chuckles pulling me to straddle his thigh.

I sigh as he pulls me forward causing the most delicious friction. He continues sliding me across his thigh and my eyes shut. My hips begin to move on their own accord seeking the pleasure I’ve been needing all week. Whimpers fall from my mouth as Ben looks at me with a smirk.

“So you don’t want to discuss-“

“I will cut your fucking tongue out.” I reply breathlessly as his hands grind me down on to his thigh roughly.

“Then how will I be able to lick your-“

I crash my lips to his in hopes he’ll remain silent. He chuckles against my lips as his fingers dig into my sides. He begins to move my hips quicker as the water begins to splash around us. I begin to moan into his mouth as pleasure begins to explode through my body. His lips capture mine once more as he slowly continues to grind me against him to prolong my pleasure.

“Beautiful,” Ben whispers and my eyes snap open. “Fuck, please let me have said it right.” panic laces his words.

“You did,” my lips attach to his as my heart stumbles.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

I sit around the council table with the River Lords who look from me to Daemon. Ser Alfred has arrived this morning and hasn’t been able to form a coherent conversation with Daemon. My eyes stay planted on him as his head lulls as he grips his cup. When his eyes seem to uncloud he stares at Lord Simon’s child, Alys, I’m told.

“Pull yourself together.” I grit out to Daemon who is currently making a fool of himself.

“When did this meeting start?” his words borderline slurred as he looks to Alys who comes to his side.

I shake my head in confusion as she whispers into his ear. I look to Ben to make sure I’m not the only one seeing this and all of the Lords faces mirror mine. They turn me expectantly and I’m at a loss for what to do.

“That’s enough, Alys. Thank you.” I rise out of my chair dismissing her.

“Isn’t it strange we’re almost kin?” she whispers as she brushes past me. I turn quickly but she’s already out of the hall and I take my place again in my seat.

“Are you drunk?” I hiss to Daemon who has an amusing look on his face.

“Welcome River Lords,” Daemon rises, ignoring my question. “I’m thankful you’ve all deigned to join me in Harrenhal. I know how alluring it is to follow a Targaryen Princess.” he looks to me with a smirk.

“While you’ve been doing Gods know what, I’ve been rallying for Rhaenyra. Did she send you here to simply cut wood?” my anger very evident in my voice.

“I’ve secured the largest castle.” he looks down to me.

“Yes, the crumbling, empty castle. What a win Daemon. While you’ve been indulging yourself on wine and bastards we’ve all been doing our part to help Rhaenyra claim the throne.” I shake my head at a loss. I know we shouldn’t be speaking like this in front of the Lords but I can’t help it.

“I will not be belittled by you.” Daemon spits his words at me.

“You’ve done it yourself. Everyone at this table can see you’re going mad.” I look to him as he goes to look out the window.

Ser Alfred looks at me in warning not to push him too far. The other Lords are doing well to hide their terror as I verbally challenge Daemon in this hall. I’m hoping with the right kind of push and verbal berating he will get his head out of his ass and start to fight for Rhaenyra once more.

“Is that true?” he turns to the table of men with narrowed eyes. “Who thinks I’m going mad?” he approaches and leans his hands on the table assessing everyone.

“Go home, Daemon.” I rise from my chair to switch his focus to me and not our Lords. Ben’s hands slip to mine to try and have me sit back down but I can’t stand down from this fight, my mother needs me. “Rhaenyra needs you at her side.” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“Mm, is that what she told you?” he stalks over to me.

“If you bothered to read any of the ravens from either of us, you know it would be true. Must you always be reminded that you are The Daemon Targaryen? The Rogue Prince? You are a force to be reckoned with. Leave this crumbling castle to me and the Lords and return to Dragonstone. Clear your mind. Stand at her side so we may show a united front.” I can see my words process through his mind as he looks at me curiously.

“You want this castle for yourself.” he concludes much to my anger and frustration.

“Leave us.” I turn to the Lords who look at me slack jawed. They begin to shuffle out of the hall as Ben lingers behind. “Ben,” I warn with narrowed eyes.

“You think you can handle my daughter?” Daemon chuckles lowly as he looks to Ben. He hasn’t called me his daughter in years which is how I know something sinister is going on inside these walls. I walk to Ben and push him outside the door before I seal them.

“It’s saved you before.” Ben’s words are hushed as he places the bone knife into my palm. “Please don’t make me regret leaving this hall.” he looks down to me with pleading eyes as I shut the door separating us.

“Sit.” I nod my head to the table and slip the knife into an empty sheath at my thigh before I claim a seat across from him.

“Do you plan to kill me in this hall?” he chuckles as he takes a seat.

“I plan to make you see reason.” I study his movements which seem completely different from how this meeting started.

“Then by all means,” he raises his eyebrows gesturing with his hand for me to continue.

“You and Rhaenyra had a fight so now you sequester yourself into this ruin of a castle? To what end? Tell me your long term goal, Daemon. If I wouldn’t have arrived with a host you would still be splitting wood open, along with that bastard girls legs.” I look to him as he seems to find this amusing.

“To sit atop the Iron Throne. That is my only goal.” he hums.

“To place Rhaenyra on the throne?” I correct.

“She’s welcome to join me.” he nods his head as his thoughts seem to drift.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I don’t know if this was his plan all along or if these halls are truly haunted. We sit in silence and study each other waiting to see who will make the next move. I come up with a plan to get him outside of the castle in hopes he can clear his head and finally see his actions for what they are.

“When was the last time you’ve ridden Caraxes?” I change the subject hoping to bring him back to the present.

“It was only…” he trails off.

“Come, let’s go for ride.” I rise and look to him in question.

Surprisingly he follows me out of the hall. Ben is waiting on the other side of the door and he walks by my side. I instruct him to send a raven to Rhaenyra and say that I’m sending Daemon home and hopefully he should arrive tonight, I will escort him if needed. I also have him tell the servants to pack a small bag for Daemon for his travels home.

“Please return to me.” Ben kisses the side of my head and nods at my instructions.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

After a long flight our two dragons land in the abandoned countryside. I press my luck and dismount and turn to see that Daemon is doing the same. We meet between our two dragons as they sing a bone chilling song.

“I will go home.” he nods to me with a scrunched brow.

“You will?” I raise my eyebrow in surprise.

“Do not let that heinous woman inside your head. Don’t accept her tea.” he shakes his head as a shutter travels through him.

“Understood. Please send me a raven when you get to Dragonstone.” I reply curtly still not caring for him much at the moment.

“You’ve already sent her word of my return?” he asks over his shoulder as he begins to mount Caraxes.

“I have,” I nod my head up to him. “If you cause her trouble, I will come for you and show you why this growing host has bent its knees.” the threat is laced through my voice like a promise.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, daughter.” he says before him and his blood worm launch into the skies.

I mount Silverwing and sigh in relief that somehow everything worked out. I hug Sliverwings neck and offer her words of love and praise before she brings us up to the clouds.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

Ben rushes to me once I dismount Silverwing and assesses me head to toe. Once he’s satisfied I’m in one piece he turns to Silverwing and walks around her and makes sure she’s taken no damage as well. He offers her soft pats before he returns to me.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers before running back through the gates.

I lay down at Silverwings feet and curl into her. She wraps her head around me protectively as she sprawls on the ground. We hear motion from beyond the gates and we both raise our heads curiously. Ben walks through the gates trailing a couple cattle behind him.

“Thank you for keeping my Princess safe, my beautiful Silverwing.” he hums as he approaches her. I rise and come to his side as she begins to chirp him a song.

He leaves the cattle with her and he guides me back through the gates and into the castle. The Lords look at me expectantly as I call a short meeting in the council chambers. I tell them of Daemons hopeful return to Dragonstone and give Ser Alfred leave to follow after him and return to my mother. The Lords look to me in awe that I was able to rein Daemon in and send him back to Dragonstone. I end the meeting with promises of a more in depth discussion on the morrow.

“Let’s go to bed,” Ben hums softly as he offers me his hand.

We quickly make it back to our chambers and he seals the doors behind us. He cups my face and pulls me into a passionate kiss. He pulls apart resting his forehead on mine as we pant as I look up to him with low lids.

“I’m perfectly fine, you didn’t have to worry so much.” I breathlessly chuckle.

“I was worried for the King Consort, the look in your eyes in the council chamber was downright murderous.” he chuckles lowly before placing a quick kiss on my lips before he starts to remove my armor.

“Good he was being daft. Someone had to stand to him.” I roll my shoulders once he removes the plates there.

“Sometimes you fucking terrify me.” he whispers though his voice is full of devotion as he removes my last pieces.

“Mm, I’m honored.” I hum as I begin to remove my layers of clothing.

“Allow me, my Princess.” he whispers as he lifts my shirt above my head.

He slowly peels the rest of my clothes off. He removes his clothes with haste while pulling me over to the bed. He falls onto his back pulling me with on top of him. He kisses me softly and pulls back with a smirk.

“I think you should sit on my face.” he says lowly.

“What do you mean?” I shake my head chuckling.

“Put this,” his fingers reach down and slide through my wetness. “on my mouth.” his eyes are dark as they look to me.

I shiver as his fingers continue to ghost over my core. He begins to slowly pull me up his body until I finally rise and kneel on the bed to look down at him. He pats the side of my thigh trying to coax me to straddle his face. I let out a shaky breath and kneel above his face and look down at his eyes under me.

“Thank you, my Princess.” he says placing a soft kiss on each of my thighs.

His hands grab my waist and pull me flush against his mouth. His tongue begins to attack my clit and my head falls back. His name falls off my lips as he continues to swirl against my clit. I grind against his face and immediately stop. He grunts at my stillness and begins to move my hips himself as moans seep out of my mouth.

“Ben,” his name is the only thing I’m capable of saying.

This spurs him on and his tongue moves even more ferociously. My hips begin jerking on their own accord and he moans against me. The vibrations send me over the edge as I come against his face as he keeps lapping at me.

“Ben,” I whimper as he still holds me against his face.

His torturous tongue continues to circle my sensitive bud sending shock waves through my body. I’m a babbling mess above him as he starts to grind my hips against him again. A sob tears through me as I come against him once more. He lifts me off and I collapse face down on the bed next to him as he chuckles.

“You did so good for me.” he hums as I feel the bed dip behind me. “Aren’t you thankful you didn’t cut my tongue out.” his hands raise my hips until I’m resting on my knees. I turn my head and scowl at him until he starts swirling his tip around my wetness.

“Ben, please,” I whine breathlessly as he leans back.

“Hm?” his tone taunting. I try to push my hips back to find him once more but his hands on my hips keep me firmly in place.

“If you don’t fuck me surely I can find someone else who-“

He slams into me and a moan tears through me. He sets a brutal pace that has my face sliding against the sheets. All I can do is arch my back more as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His trusts become slow and deep as his hands fall to the sides of my waist as he hovers above me.

“Who do you think can replace me?” he grunts in my ear while grinding his hips into mine.

“No one,” my words barely coherent as my hips chase the pleasure he’s offering.

“That’s what I thought.” he says arrogantly as he pulls me upright with him.

One of his hands stays at my waist to help steady me as he begins to hammer up into me. The other travels around my front teasing and pinching my nipples until it finds its way to my throat. His long fingers wrap around me while his hand from my waist sneaks down to my sensitive bud.

“I- Ben,” I whine as I come, clenching around him.

“Fuck Princess,” his hips slightly falter but he regains his composure quickly.

He pushes me forward back onto the bed while staying inside of me. His pace is crazed as his fingers dig deeply into my hips. I’m pushing back into him chasing all of the pleasure he wants to give me. My hands are fisted into the sheets while all I can do is whimper and breathe his name.

“One more time for me.” he growls while bringing his torturous hand between my thighs once more.

When his fingers reach my clit I see stars. I feel like pleasure is being torn from me in waves as I bury my head in the pillow. His hips shutter and warmth spreads throughout me before he slowly pulls out. He collapses on the bed next to me as we’re both panting and trying to catch our breath.

“I know I’m safe in Harrenhal because the only thing that could make me go mad is you.” he says breathily smoothing my hair.

“Back to your ghost stories already?” I huff as I turn to him and see him smiling down at me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist

ps: i literally will write more of this if ppl want 🫣

Part 3