#did they not aid in fighting the dragon ?

[todayisafridaynight]

“ugh it sucks that Y7 crashed right at the end but im too tired to redo the millennium tower. i’ll just do it another day i already beat the game three times before anyway”

an hour later

[nightlyvisitor]

Okay what’s the logic here so I defeated a dragon but I get bodied by the companions entry test in Whiterune?? Like it should be a one on one match but there is always like 2 other companions that go aggro when I try to do the test😭

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: APPARENTLY THIS IS A GUY NAMED DAVOS BLACKWOOD. But he literally IS Bloody Ben. So he's staying Bloody Ben.

P.s. I'm ageing Benjicot up so he's around 24 or whatever age you want him to be that's over 18 <3

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・It wasn't an arranged marriaged. No, not by any means.

・You had been sent by your Queen to remind the Houses of Westeros their pledge to her. And Rhaenyra had chosen you to go to the Blackwoods.

"I expect you will be welcomed warmly," her Grace said with a warm smile.

You bowed your head and returned the smile.

・You always felt safe around Rhaenyra, she was someone very close to you. Someone who you would fight to the death for.

・The first time Benji saw you, his heart stopped...which was a very fair reaction as you were atop your fearsome dragon, The Cannibal.

・You bonded with the wild dragon when you were 13 - it was the first day of your periods and you were sick and tired of being without a dragon.

・It was in your blood. And you were done waiting.

・Your first flight with Cannibal was difficult - although the blood magic seemed to be strong between the two of you.

・You were the exact person he was waiting for.

・So when your duty came to aid Queen Rhaenyra; she did asked for you to unite with a House through marriage

・That was heavy - a big duty that you did not think would need to happen, since you bonded with Cannibal. Wouldn't you be put on the front lines straight away? Her answer was no.

・But you knew the realities of war and faced your duty head on (you know Cannibal will always defend you)

・Your marriage was a significant one. All the Blackwoods were invited, and Rhaenyra was there to oversee the ceremony.

・However, having all of your family there would have been another Red Wedding, so only a few choice people from your side could be invited.

・Nonetheless, it was absolutely beautiful.

・Dragonfire lit the skies, chasing away the dark. Even Cannibal was having a good time. There were tributes made to him - sheep, cow, goats galore. You swore you saw him smiling.

・What you absolutely weren't expecting was Benji to INTERACT with Cannibal...

・He brought up a bull from the biggest hoard they had. Benji watched as the dragon practically gulped the animal down. However, he wasn't scared - he was impressed. And intrigued.

・You were absolutely moved by Benji's act. Truly. Because it showed his bravery. His daring. And of course his caring. You knew, you could feel the way Cannibal was feeling - and he trusted this Blackwood.

・So you decided to give him a wedding present. A fly.

・By doing so, you broke down every single one of Benji's walls and he knew you were the one for him. His wife. His firt and only one.

・After a tough day, and you both go to your chambers; he'll grab your arm and kiss your wrist. A physical way of saying "I'm so glad you're alive and mine."

・Learns High Valyrian for you. He wanted to surprise you with it. And surprise you he did.

・You call each other: Ñuha jorrāelagon (my love), Ñuha prūmia (my heart),

・ A very particular sentence that Benji says a lot is: Nyke pendagon nūmāzma ao everyday (I think about you everyday)

・Of course he knows you can protect yourself; but that doesn't stop him from defending you. You're his world now. You mean so much to him.

・No body thought this union would work as well as it had.

・So, Bloody Ben & The Rider of Cannibal became a formidabble pair that made men tremble wherever they went.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Like Calls To Like

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Unbreakable Bond

Growth through Adversity

Bickering and Banter

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

The Politics & The Life by Daniel Pemberton

O Verona by The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Gives you complete and utter respect both in and out of the bedroom.

・Has never and will never push you to do anything you don't want to do

・The first time you were together, it felt like your bodies were on fire. Meant to burn together. The words kept replaying over and over in your head as he touched you. A deep yearning overtook you and suddenly time stopped.

・His lips were warm, his hands cold but when he took off his clothes, you couldn't help but grin.

・There's such desire between you two that even your mount can sense it.

・Your sex life is very active - at least once a day. Maybe you're in your Honeymoon period, but you cannot keep your hands off one another when you're alone

・And when you're at feasts, Benji's hands find their way down your thigh, and slowing inching inbetween them.

"Really, here? Now?" You asked n a hushed tone, trying not to draw any attention to either of you.

"Yes. Here, now. Or we can go into the hallway and I will ravish you there. Upto you, wife."

[winterinhimring]

I AM NOT OKAY ABOUT BOROMIR

He lives his entire life in a country that's facing off against the forces of evil incarnate. The borders are shrinking yearly. Their people are dying faster than they are born. He is the son of the Steward; he must be aware of all of this from his teens.

He grows up. He grows into a general. Now every loss is on him. Every father who won't come back to his sons. Every husband who won't come back to his wife. Every son who won't come back to his parents. Every inch of ground lost. He knows it's inevitable. He knows this is an unwinnable war. It's still his orders, his men, his country. He's failing them. Nobody could succeed, but it is him that fails all the same.

He gets sent off on a quest that roughly amounts to a modern British soldier being told (in a dream) 'go find Camelot, talk to the brownies, and get Arthur to come back here with Excalibur and save the day'. He goes, because those are his orders, and he's a good soldier.

He gets yanked into the weirdest spec-ops mission in history. They are trying to destroy an atomic bomb engineered by Satan. Half the participants are the aforementioned brownies, who are waist high and have manifestly never been in so much as a skirmish in their lives. (He tries to teach them how to use a sword, in the hopes that they won't die if there is an actual fight.) One is a wizard, two are somewhat more mundane myths, and one is a weird scruffy wilderness man that people keep telling Boromir to swear allegiance to. He goes along with it because he doesn't really have orders in this situation, but when he suggested using the atomic bomb, the wizard got very angry and swore a lot in a language he didn't understand and made the sky turn black, and everyone else seemed to view this as conclusive.

(The atomic bomb could save his country if they were allowed to use it, he's pretty sure. He tries not to think about that.)

For some reason, the wizard and company are determined not to go back to the nearest fortified city and regroup. They are determined to go straight to the heart of the enemy's realm. In the course of this determination, they get chased by crows, they climb a mountain which might be sentient and trying to kill them or might just be having a snowstorm because of an evil wizard, and they get buried in snow. The hobbits almost die.

Wizard and company still refuse to return to the fortified city and regroup. They go into a mythical city where there are supposed to be friends, and they find halls full of bodies. (This is more familiar territory than he wishes it was.) They get attacked by a giant lake squid. People keep throwing hobbits at him. (Seriously, Boromir gets so many hobbits chucked at him over the course of this movie.)

They get trapped inside the fallen mythical city. They've almost made it through when one of Actual Satan's massive fire-demons starts chasing them. (Keep in mind that the Balrogs were last heard of at the end of the First Age, and Boromir is a soldier, not a scholar. From a modern perspective, this is something like having a dragon the size of an airplane show up and attack your military platoon.) The wizard dies fighting the fire-demon. He pulls the hobbits out, keeps the dwarf from running back inside (to do what, Boromir doesn't know, but Gimli probably doesn't know either; Boromir has seen men get like that before when someone dies in front of them), and accepts the orders from the weird scruffy wilderness man because he seems to at least have an idea of where to go.

He follows the wilderness man right into another myth. He meets a woman who reads his mind and tells him that there's hope for his country to survive. (Boromir has not had hope since he realised that Gondor's borders were shrinking year by year and their army dwindling and their allies weren't coming to aid them. This probably happened roughly when he was sixteen. He is forty. Hope, even the idea of it, hurts so much more than despair ever did.)

When they are on the verge of leaving even the vestiges of friendly territory behind, he finally asks for the chance to use the enemy's weapon. He is shut down. He tries to take it by force (the only thing crueller than being given hope is having it taken away)...he does and says things he never thought he'd say or do.

He tries to hurt someone he's sworn to protect.

He's sorry. He's so terribly sorry, but the damage is done. Frodo has run from him like he's an orc.

There are actual orcs. Everywhere. He doesn't know where they came from but he finds Merry and Pippin. He fights to protect them. For a while, it seems like he will be enough, for this at least. (All his life, he has not been enough. Not enough to protect Gondor. Not enough to persuade Aragorn that it is worth protecting. Not enough to resist the temptation of the Ring.)

Once again, he isn't enough. He loses.

He watches them be dragged away, shouting for him as he kneels, helpless, struggling for breath against the arrows piercing his chest.

And then. And then, for the first time in who knows how long (perhaps for the first time ever) someone takes the weight off of Boromir's shoulders. Aragorn arrives. Aragorn fights to protect him, and promises to defend Gondor in his place. He promises, I will not let our people fall.

For the first time since he first realised what was happening to his country, Boromir has real hope. Perhaps Aragorn can do what he couldn't. Perhaps Boromir never needed to win the war. He held out until Aragorn came, made sure that the promised king of legend had a country to return to, and perhaps...perhaps that was enough.

Maybe Gondor will survive this. Boromir won't, but that's alright, if his people (his brother) do.

He swears his allegiance to Aragorn now, taking back his words at the Council, with the last of his breath.

Then he dies.

[bluegekk0]

Finished designs for the FPK Dragon AU! Very happy with how they turned out, I'm definitely going to draw more art for this side AU in the future

Some short info and close-ups below

General AU stuff:

I don't have many story or world details yet, but in general it would be quite simplified and changed in a lot of ways

The vessels are not a thing, though The Radiance does exist and the infection would still happen in some shape or form (I haven't thought of the details yet). Holly's purpose would still be to put a stop to it, but the whole aspect of emotionless void beings is not included

Humans don't exist in this world, so the one above is simply to get an idea of their scale. The dragons in that world are sapient and live in communities, a lot of them can use magic and similar powerful abilities

More info to be added as I brainstorm it, and I might design more characters for the AU in the future

Character specific stuff:

Vyrm - a lot of his backstory is very similar to the main AU, his kind is considered extinct (the reason would most likely be different), though he never changed his form to be smaller, which means his large wyrm form does not exist here. His relationship with WL was also basically the same, as was his journey of discovering his love for Grimm. And just like in the main AU, he ended up losing his status as a leader and hibernating. Unsure whether he would also lose all his powers, since I want to keep his workshop hobby and I like the idea of him having powers that he learned specifically for that purpose (not to mention, doing any kind of precise engineering would be difficult with his dragon anatomy). So we'll have to see.

Grimm - once again a very similar backstory to his main AU counterpart. He is one of the most powerful dragons to exist, and The Radiance is still his sister in this AU. He was banished from his homeland and stripped of many of his powers, losing his status as a higher dragon as a result. I'm still brainstorming how NKG comes into the AU, as of now my idea is that it would be closer to a god-like beast form than a being in another realm, but it may still change. And I'm still thinking how to reconceptualize the ritual to fit this version. Even though he's much weaker than in his prime, he's still more powerful than an average dragon, especially in the NKG form (if that is the direction I take with him).

Lewk, Asta and Milo - basically the same as in the main AU. Lewk and Asta can fly just fine, Milo however is incapable of it (and will likely remain that way even as he gets older, with his wings being too small and weak for flight).

Hornet - in most aspect she's the same, though her half-spider origin would be changed to something else; Herrah is not a spider in this AU, though she would still be quite beastly and unique in her appearance. She has two pairs of wings, which are a trait inherited from her mother's side. She knows silk magic, which she learned as a young dragon.

Zote - he's the most unique here body plan wise, I based his design on pterosaurs. I loved the mental image of him being this annoying, bird-like dragon. In basically all aspects he's the same as his main AU counterpart, though being a dragon I imagine he would have a more impressive lifespan than an average bug in the main AU. He's a herbivore dragon, his mouth resembles a beak, and he has no powers, only a nasty attitude.

Holly - as mentioned before, they are not a vessel in this AU, nor a void being. Instead, they're a hybrid of Vyrm and WL, who is a powerful higher dragon, and were trained to stop The Radiance and put an end to the infection from the day they hatched. Though they did end up learning void magic to aid them in the fight, I think that would be a nice way to preserve at least some of that aspect and it would explain the color of their body in this version. They have a mouth, though they are still mute, likely as a result to battle damage. Like in the main AU, they lost one of their eyes and a limb, and I'm considering designing a prosthetic wing for them at some point to mirror their counterpart.

[kckt88]

Closer

Summary:

Lucaela is a strong bastard-the twin sister of the boy who maimed him with a blade, but she's also the sweetest Omega he's ever scented, and Aemond soon finds himself unable to fight against the primal urge of the Alpha inside him, who has chosen his neice as the perfect mate.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Masturbation, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V, Knotting, Mating Bites.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 4569

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond strode across the training grounds of the Red Keep, his sword in hand, the sound of steel slicing through the air as he practiced his swordsmanship. His movements were fluid, each strike precise and powerful, a testament to years of training and discipline.

As he paused for a moment to catch his breath, a sweet fragrance wafted on the breeze, the scent of ripe peaches teasing his senses. Aemond's nostrils flared as he instinctively turned his head, searching for the source of the delightful aroma.

And there she was, emerging from the shadows like a vision—Lucaela, his niece a recently presented Omega. Her presence stirring the Alpha within. She was the twin sister of Lucerys, the boy who had took his eye when they were children. Aemond harboured a deep-seated hatred for Lucerys, but he couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Lucaela.

"Lucaela," greeted Aemond, his voice low and tinged with a hint of something he dared not name.

“Uncle” replied Lucaela.

A wave of desire swept over Aemond like a tempest, igniting a fire within his soul that threatened to consume him whole.

Lucaela was the epitome of beauty, her long, dark wavy hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk, framing her delicate features with an ethereal glow.

Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light purple, she was the only one out of her strong siblings that had inherited the Targaryen eyes.

And then there was her peach scent that enveloped him like a cloak, sending his senses reeling with its intoxicating allure. It was a scent he could never forget, a scent that awakened the Alpha within him, urging him to claim the omega as his own.

With every breath he took, Aemond could feel the pull of Lucaela's scent drawing him closer, igniting a hunger deep within him that refused to be ignored. The Alpha inside him roared with a primal need, demanding dominance, craving possession.

“What brings you to the training grounds?” asked Aemond, the point of his sword digging into the ground as he rested his weight upon it.

“I found myself drawn to this part of the castle-I was watching you train” replied Lucaela.

“-And did you like what you saw?” rasped Aemond smirking.

“Your skill with the sword is impressive-you’ll win many tourneys”.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys-nephews have you come to train?” quipped Aemond as Jace and Luke came to a stop beside Lucaela who scowled.

“Open the gates-“

Aemond smiled at Vaemond Velaryon made his way inside the Red Keep, flanked by a retinue of guards.

Alone in the dimly lit chambers, Aemond sat upon a plush chair, his mind consumed by thoughts of Lucaela.

The sweet scent of peaches still clung to the air, haunting him with its intoxicating allure. Aemond's fingers clenched tightly around the armrests of his chair as he fought against the primal urges stirring within him.

The petition for Vaemond to seize control of Driftmark had failed, his sickly father had miraculously roused himself from his stupor and came to the aid of Rhaenyra-his favourite child.

Viserys had steadfastly upheld the bastard strong boys claim to Driftmark and Vaemond had lost his head for it.

Now he would have to endure spending more time in the presence of Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards, his presence would be expected at dinner, and he would have to be in the same room as Lucaela.

Never in his life had he been this tempted by the scent of an Omega, just thinking about her was enough to make his cock hard. He’d already fucked his fist three times since their encounter in the training yard and it had done nothing to satisfy his desire.

Aemond closed his eye, trying in vain to banish her from his thoughts, but her image remained etched into the depths of his mind. The soft curve of her lips, the warmth of her gaze—each detail a tantalizing temptation that threatened to unravel his self-control.

For an Alpha, the scent of an Omega, especially a newly presented one, is like a siren's song, weaving its way through the air and captivating their senses with its intoxicating sweetness. It ignites a fire within them, awakening desires that they struggle to contain.

The Alpha within him surged with a primal longing, a desire as ancient as time itself. It whispered to him in the depths of his soul, urging him to claim Lucaela as his own, to make her his mate, and to sire pups with her.

In the quiet solitude of his chambers, Aemond wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between the responsibilities of his station and the yearnings of his heart. His Alpha instincts raged, demanding dominance and possession, driving him to seek out Lucaela and bind her to him in an unbreakable bond.

He imagined her taking his knot, his fangs sinking into her neck, forever claiming her as his. He pictured her belly swollen with his pups. The Alpha within him growling with satisfaction, his cock hard again.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond as his hands moved to untie his breeches once more.

Not even a day she had been back in the Red Keep and already he’d been reduced to hiding in his chambers fucking his own fist.

He briefly considered finding another Omega or perhaps a Beta female, perhaps if he could find one that looked similar to-

NO-the Alpha inside him would not accept a substitute, it had to be Lucaela.

His cock as hard as steel, already leaking precum and he began to move his hand up and down.

“Fuck-“ groaned Aemond his hips moving back and forth.

His mind a wash with vivid images of Lucaela, under him, on top of him, of him behind her, fucking his knot into her sweet wet warm cunny.

Gods he felt like he was in rut, his hips and fist moving faster, he was close-so close.

The scent of peaches-fuck he wondered if she tasted like a ripe peach, one of his favourite fruits.

Soft-sweet, perfect for sinking his teeth into.

“Lucaela-my Lucy-MINE” roared Aemond as he erupted, his seed spilling all over his fist and lower abdomen.

Aemond collapsed against the back of the chair, his heart pounding in his chest, the knot at the base of his cock throbbed continuously.

Then a soft knock at the door, broke Aemond out his reverie.

“Dinner is ready Prince Aemond-your presence is expected”.

“I’ll be there in a moment” replied Aemond, tucking his cock back in his breeches and reaching for a cloth.

God this dinner was going to be hell. But he must endure. He must do his duty. He supposed he could always hold his breath, that way he would smell the Omega’s scent, but that would also lead to his untimely death, and he couldn’t hold his breath all night.

His cock stirred once again at the thought of Lucaela and Aemond shook his head in disbelief.

“Fuck sake-not again” snapped Aemond as he ran a hand over his face.

No-he couldn’t indulge himself, otherwise he’d be late. So, with a deep breath he left his chambers and made his way to the dining room.

Praying to every fucking one of the seven that he could restrain himself.

The scent of roasted meats and spiced wines filled the air, mingling with the chatter and laughter of his relatives, yet beneath the facade of familial camaraderie, Aemond's inner turmoil raged like a storm.

Seated alongside his kin, Aemond struggled to maintain his composure, his fingers tightening around the stem of his goblet as he forced himself to focus on the conversation swirling around him. But try as he might to distract himself, his thoughts kept returning to Lucaela.

The Alpha within him clawed desperately at the confines of his self-control, yearning to claim her as his own, to dominate and possess her in a primal display of dominance. It whispered seductive promises of fulfilment and satisfaction, urging him to seize what he desired most.

But Aemond knew he couldn't succumb to those urges, not here, not now, surrounded by his family so, Aemond gritted his teeth against the tumult of his inner turmoil, his facade of stoicism masking the turmoil raging within. He cast furtive glances across the table, his gaze lingering on Lucaela, who sat beside her brother Lucerys, her expression a mask of serene composure.

Each glance only served to fuel the fire burning within him, the Alpha's hunger growing more insatiable with each passing moment. He longed to reach out and claim Lucaela, to mark her as his own and brand her with his scent—a symbol of their bond forged in the crucible of desire.

Not even his father’s desperate rambling were enough to distract him, not even the toasts, or even his sister Helaena dancing with Jace.

She was Aegon’s wife, but obviously the drunk cunt could only sit and stare as the bastard strong boy twirled her around in time with the music.

After his father had been escorted from the dining room, Aemond prayed for the night to come to a close, he had to get back to his chambers, his cock was throbbing with need, and he was sure the scent of his arousal was becoming more and more obvious by the second, due to the looks that Lucaela was giving him and the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

Then the roasted pig was placed in front on him, and that bastard boy had the audacity to laugh at him.

His fist colliding loudly with the table, and he rose to his feet thanking the gods that his leather jerkin was long enough to hide the bulge in his breeches.

“Final tribute” said Aemond picking up his goblet “To the health of my niece and nephews-Lucaela, Jace and Luke-each of them handsome, wise and strong-“

“Aemond” warned Alicent.

“Come-let us drain our cups to these three strong-“

“-I dare you to say that again” challenged Jace.

“Why, it was only a compliment. Don’t you think yourself strong?” challenged Aemond, as Jace’s fist collided with the side of his face.

The dining room erupted into a cacophony of noise, Lucerys who had rose to defend his brother Jace had been slammed headfirst into the table, Lucaela had then slid her hands into Aegon’s silver hair and wrenched him away from her twin brother-and Jace had been shoved to the floor.

Aemond’s blood was growing hot as he watched Lucaela defending her brother, he didn’t give two shits about Luke, but it was the way in which the Omega had fiercely risen from her seat and thrown herself into the chaos.

The hard slap she delivered to Aegon’s pale cheek had the Alpha inside Aemond growling with delight.

But Jace had hauled himself of the floor and was charging towards Aemond, who braced himself ready to fight.

“Wait-wait-“ snarled Daemon, stepping in between the two.

“Go to your chambers-all of you go now” ordered Rhaenyra.

Aemond watched as Lucaela bowed her head to her mother and followed her brothers from the dining room.

As he watched her leave Aemond suddenly became very aware that Daemon was watching him with intrigue, following his gaze.

The older Alpha raised his non-existent eyebrows at Aemond who decided it was for the best to stand down, challenging Daemon wouldn’t do him any favours, not with Lucaela anyway.

So, he left the dining room, not bothering to deal with the aftermath of his actions as there was something else that demanded his attention.

Aemond’s footsteps echoed softly as he made his way through the corridors of the Red Keep, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows along the stone walls, casting an eerie glow upon his determined features.

He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't succumb to the forbidden desires that tugged at his soul like a riptide dragging him under. But the scent of Lucaela lingered in his senses, a sweet intoxicating fragrance that called to him with an irresistible allure, driving him ever closer to her chambers.

As he reached the door to Lucaela's quarters, Aemond hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. His mind raced with a thousand reasons why he should turn back, why he should resist the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

But then he caught another whiff of her scent, carried on the breeze like a whispered promise, and all rational thought fled from his mind. With a shaky breath, he rapped his knuckles against the door, the sound echoing through the silent corridor.

The door creaked open, revealing Lucaela standing on the threshold, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him.

Aemond's gaze locked with hers, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the words to express the tempest of emotions raging within him. But before he could speak, the scent of Lucaela enveloped him like a tidal wave, washing away his doubts and fears in a flood of primal need.

“What do you want?” asked Lucaela.

“You know what I want-“ replied Aemond as he stepped inside the dimly lit chamber.

“No, I don’t-“

“-Sure, you do” said Aemond.

“You can’t want me-“ muttered Lucaela, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why not?” snarked Aemond.

“I thought I was a bastard-you said it yourself. Handsome, wise and strong”

“When it comes to you I was wrong, I should have said pretty and perfect for birthing my pups” growled Aemond as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, beckoning him closer with each passing second.

And then, without a word, he crushed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

His Alpha roaring with delight, at the sweet taste of the Omega.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucaela gasped for breath, her eyes meeting Aemond's with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "We mustn't," she breathed, her voice trembling with restraint. "We should court properly, earn the blessing of the King and our family.”

Aemond's brows furrowed, a shadow passing over his features as he shook his head in disbelief. "You know as well as I do, Lucy," he murmured, his voice tinged with bitterness. "My mother and grandsire would never allow such a match to take place. They would sooner see us wed to strangers for political gain than grant their blessing to our union."

“Aemond” whimpered Lucaela as he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"You can feel it, can't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "The pull of my Alpha scent”

Lucaela's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart pounding with a mixture of longing and apprehension. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the remnants of her resolve, but the undeniable truth hung heavy in the air between them.

"I-I shouldn't," she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she fought to resist the primal urges that threatened to consume her. "We mustn't give in to temptation, Aemond. We must honour our duty and our family."

But even as she spoke the words, Lucaela could feel the last vestiges of her resistance crumbling beneath the weight of Aemond's presence, his Alpha scent wrapping around her like a velvet cloak, suffusing her senses with a heady intoxication that left her dizzy with desire.

Aemond's lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You cannot deny the pull any longer, Issa dōna," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "Our desires are too strong, too primal to be ignored” (My sweet).

With a soft gasp, Lucaela closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Aemond's in a searing kiss that left them both breathless and wanting more.

Lucaela had lost most of her senses the moment Aemond had pressed her onto the bed and knelt down between her open legs.

“Issa dōna Omega” whispered Aemond (My sweet Omega).

Lucaela’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Lucaela bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Ivestragī issa rȳbagon ao issa dōna” growled Aemond (Let me hear you my sweet).

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucaela.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Lucaela, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Lucaela arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Lucaela’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucaela blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little strong girl” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Lucaela.

“Relax and let Alpha take care of you”.

Almost as if he could read Lucaela’s mind, Aemond smiled and began peppering gentle kisses all over Lucaela’s face.

“You can take it. Ao istan vēttan syt issa” whispered Aemond as he began rubbing his hard cock along Lucaela’s wet folds (You were made for me).

Suddenly Aemond rolls his hips forward and the entire hard length of him is buried inside Lucaela.

“A-Aemond” shrieks Lucaela at the sting of her maidenhead being taken.

Aemond stills for a moment, almost as if he is savouring the feeling of Lucaela’s tight wet heat being wrapped around him.

After a few mintues, Lucaela begins to writh against him.

“M-Move please Alpha. I need you” begged Lucaela desperately.

Aemond rolls his hips gently at first, allowing Lucaela the time to adjust to the feeling of his cock moving back and forth inside her, but when his sweet Omega begins issuing pleas of ‘Harder and faster’ Aemond loses it and begins fucking Lucaela into the mattress.

Their hips pound together as Aemond thrusts hard and fast, his movements brutal and precise.

“Lucaela. My Omega” moans Aemond as his cock begins to thicken at the base.

“Yes. Yes. Oh, it’s feels so good. Alpha don’t stop. Fuck me harder. I can take it”

“Going to fill you up with my seed. I want to see you swollen with my pups” hisses Aemond.

“Yes. Alpha breed me. I want to grow round with your pup. I will give you as many pups as you desire” exclaimed Lucaela.

“Y-Your neck. I need too-Claim you” growls Aemond.

“Yes, Alpha claim me. Make me yours” begs Lucaela.

With a low growl of desire, Aemond tilts Lucaela's head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his hungry gaze.

His cock throbbing with anticipation,

Lucaela's breath hitched as she felt the heat of Aemond's lips brush against her skin, his touch igniting her blood. Then, she felt the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her flesh, a mixture of pleasure and pain flooding her senses.

Aemond's Alpha scent enveloped her, swirling around her like a whirlwind, as Lucaela surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. With a gasp of ecstasy, she arched against him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt their bond solidifying, the mating bond that would bind them together for eternity.

But even as Aemond claimed her as his own, Lucaela's own Omega instincts surged to life, driving her to reciprocate the gesture. With a fierce determination, she bit down on Aemond's neck.

Whilst her teeth are not as sharp as Aemonds, they still manage to puncture his mating gland. Sealing Alpha and Omega together forever. Their bond snapping into place. Their hearts as one.

The blood from their bites running down their bodies, as they moved together. Her Alpha fucked her hard and fast, his hips pounding against hers. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the chambers.

As Aemond gives one last thrust and forces his knot inside Lucaela, spilling rope after rope of his seed inside his Omega, which made Lucaela throw her own head back and scream, as she reached her peak, clenching around her Alpha’s pulsating cock.

It didn’t stop there, Aemond only needed a few moments of rest before growing hard inside of his Omega again.

As Lucaela’s legs relaxed and let go of her hold on Aemond, his knot had deflated enough to allow him to move backwards, and he raised himself to his knees between Lucaela’s legs.

The loss of her Alpha inside her made Lucaela whimper as the ache quickly returned. 

“Roll over” ordered Aemond. It was a command, an Alpha command, and Lucaela whimpered as she felt it take control of her body, she had to obey, she had to please her Alpha.

She was now on all fours in front of him, ready to be mounted again. Her waves of scent and slick made Aemond almost stagger. He pushed his cock into the whimpering Omega once more with shaky hands and proceeded to pound her even harder and quicker than before, snapping his hips against her while grunting loudly, driving needy moans out of Lucaela. 

Aemond was gripping her hips so hard that his nails were digging into her skin, leaving marks everywhere, the pain drove Lucaela wild with need and she needed to feel more of it.

Almost as if he could sense what she needed, Aemond reached forward and grabbed Lucaela’s hair, making her head shoot back. Lucaela cried out to her Alpha in pleasure, making Aemond growl.

His knot started to slowly push inside Lucaela, and she let out a feral cry as the knot made its way deeper and deeper inside of her.

It swelled up so much, it hurt, it hurt so good.

“A-Aemond-yes-yes-please” babbled Lucaela as she peaked, her slick dripping onto the sheets.

“I will have you dripping with my seed my sweet Omega. I can’t wait to see you swell with my pups, everyone will know your mine-“ moaned Aemond.

Aemond thrust one, two, three more times before growling once again, shooting his seed deep inside Lucaela, filling her up. He grunted out Lucaela’s name chasing the pleasure of his own peak. He then let out a deep, satisfied breath before collapsing onto his Omega.

Aemond moved his face to Lucaela’s neck again, and lovingly nuzzled her.

Lucaela laid trembling underneath him, his knot had swelled and locked together,

“ñuhon” muttered Aemond (Mine).

In the depths of the night, shrouded in shadows cast by flickering torchlight, Lucaela made her way down to the skull of Balerion, the ancient relic looming over her like a silent sentinel of the past. She paused before the massive skull, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

As she waited, Lucaela reached up to the fresh mating mark on her neck and grimaced at the dried blood lingering on her skin.

At the sound of footsteps, Lucaela took a deep breath and turned to face Daemon.

"Is it done?"

Lucaela nodded, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her. "Yes," she replied, her words echoing softly in the cavernous chamber. "Aemond has claimed me as his mate. His seed has filled my womb."

A slow smile spread across Daemon's lips, a flicker of satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "Well done," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the darkness.

“Thank you-father” whispered Lucaela.

"You must lay with him as many times as you can to ensure that you carry Aemond's pup," he said, his tone firm and commanding. "No Alpha would ever turn away from their own child and with Aemond on our side, your mother's path to the Iron Throne is clearer than ever."

"I-I understand," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper as she met Daemon's gaze with a mixture of resignation and determination.

Daemon nodded; his expression unreadable as he regarded her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the chamber. "With his pup in your womb, our position will be secure”.

“What of those who conspire against mother?” asked Lucaela.

“Otto Hightower isn’t the only treasonous cunt involved, soon the others will reveal themselves and when they do-justice will served” replied Daemon his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister.

“Perzys se ānogar” said Lucaela (Fire and Blood).

Daemon's eyes softened as he looked upon Lucaela, a sense of pride swelling within him like a flame dancing in the darkness. Of Rhaenyra's three children from her first marriage, Lucaela was his favourite—the embodiment of everything he believed a Targaryen should be.

"You have done well" he said, his voice carrying the weight of his admiration. "But now, it is time for you to return to your mate and get some rest. Thanks to you, the war will be won before it even begins”

As Lucaela made her way back to her chambers, her mind drifted back to Daemon's plan.

Her presentation as an Omega had marked a turning point, her scent at its strongest—a heady concoction of sweetness and allure that had the power to captivate even the most stoic of unmated Alphas. It was a scent that could drive men to madness, igniting a primal hunger that could not be ignored.

Whispers had reached Dragonstone of Ottos plans to usurp the Iron Throne when Viserys passed and have Aegon crowned, and Daemon knew they had to play it smart at least for now and he had seen the potential of her power as an Omega and recognized the opportunity it presented.

Aemond and Vhagar were Otto’s biggest asset, and without them he was nothing.

So, Daemon had suggested that she deliberately place herself in front of Aemond, play coy and let her scent drive him wild with desire until he could resist her no longer.

Lucaela pushed open the door, the soft light of the moon casting a gentle glow across the room, illuminating the seed and blood-stained sheets that bore witness to their passionate union.

Aemond was still asleep, his features softened by the embrace of slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

As Lucaela slipped beneath the covers and nestled against Aemond's side, his arms instinctively wrapping around her and pulling her close, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over her like a wave crashing against the shore.

And as she lay there in the darkness, wrapped in Aemond's embrace, Lucaela couldn't help but wonder if perhaps being mated to him wouldn't be so bad after all.

The fervour in which he had taken her to bed had been unlike anything she had expected, growing up the septa’s had always told her of a woman’s duty, that she existed for a man’s pleasure and not her own.

But Aemond had shown her that there was much pleasure to be had, and she couldn’t wait to experience more.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. VII

tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @hueanhdang @thelastemzy @purple-1995 @pedro-pascal-love @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97

cw: blood, death, violence, threats

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow on top of Morningstar. Seamus pressed tightly against her back still, as if he was afraid of the dragoness trying to throw him off. Daenys wouldn't put it past her, honestly. If it wasn't a risk to catch her, Morningstar would buck him off like an ornery stud.

Even with the wind blowing past her at such a high speed and the altitude of the flight, Daenys only felt a flaming heat. It burned through her veins like fire, unrelenting with its assault. She became dizzy with the overwhelming thoughts in her mind. She hadn't foresaw this to her conscious belief.

Daenys couldn't go back to the Red Keep. Not until Rhaenyra was on the Iron Throne and could protect her. She would be trapped in a snake pit with no way out except for death. She would rather die than return alone. Aegon was a drunken cunt who found enjoyment in tormenting others, found his nightly entertainment in fighting rings, and found his pleasure in the many whores of flea bottom.

Aemond was even worse. He had great skill and wit to aid him, but his madness made him the most dangerous of the two.

Otto and Alicent were compliant with the brothers now that they were reigning. Unstoppable, Daenys knew. The Queen Mother wouldn't do anything for the defense of her step-granddaughter, not in a thousand years. Otto might even suggest for Aemond to take her as a wife in a display of dominance over Rhaenyra's claim. Her eldest daughter, sister-in-law to the King.

The thought did not help her nausea. She couldn't go back.

A better fate would be to die at a formal execution. A statement to the Realm; not even the high-borns were safe from treason.

She would die there. Body or spirit, it did not matter. Daenys wished to die on her own terms, not to the whims of a whore and a madman.

Her own mortality haunted her. A princess, eldest daughter to the Queen, meant to have the blood of the dragon. Destined to die on her dragon, yet not be honored with 'a dragonrider's death'. There was no being shot down by a scorpion in a great battle for the history books. No dragon dance to perform in the skies with another beast. Only a man. A craven.

She would be alone, only with Morningstar. Like her ancestor Aerea, who mysteriously disappeared for an entire year with her dragon to Old Valyria, only to return and die without telling her story. Daenys would be remembered for her madness, not her sacrifice. A footnote, perhaps, in her mother's reign. No chapter would be dedicated to a girl who did nothing.

It wouldn't matter. Daenys wouldn't be alive to care about her legacy. She was born with her dragon. She would die with her, too. The thought comforted her more than anything else could. She was a proud dragonrider, and that's all that mattered in the end, perhaps.

Seamus squeezed her waist, knife at his thigh, almost poking into hers carelessly. Not that it would matter if it did, she could return to King's Landing with no limbs at all, and Seamus would still be rewarded. "Can't this beast fly any faster? I thought dragons were supposed to be Gods."

"She cannot fly against the winds so easily." Daenys told him, resisting the urge to tell him it was common sense. She should've fed him to Morningstar when he presented her with the wolf's head. She was naive to believe he was clueless instead of slighting her intentionally. What a coward. He couldn't even fight Cregan head-on, despite his age and experience difference. Proudly, Daenys knew that Cregan was a rare once-in-a-generation talent. As a Stark should be. He would be in the history books of great and important leaders throughout Westeros history. Perhaps most known for his protection of all that resided south of the Wall or his aid to the Queen during the war for the throne. The Wolf in the North.

Maybe her death would inspire Cregan to send more bannerman than he originally planned, out of pity for the Queen's loss. Though, she secretly hoped it might be to avenge his short-lived lady friend.

He scoffed, "what a joke."

"Do you wish to walk to the crownlands?" She bit, regretting it when he dug his blunt nails into her skin. She would be left with plenty of bruises littering her skin on the morrow.

"Watch your tongue girl, or I will remove it."

She nodded quickly, refraining from speaking any further. When had she grown so mouthy? Only days ago, she would've never imagined saying such things to a man who had a knife to her back, or anyone, for that matter.

Daenys grinded her teeth, looking ahead sharply. It was only clouds below, grey skies spanning for miles ahead. If Cregan was following on horseback, he would've long since lost sight of her. She prayed that he was, even if he could not do anything from such a distance. The thought comforted her.

Morningstar shrieked, the sound jarring even to Daenys' tuned ears. It was higher-pitched than usual, like she was calling out for another dragon. Or a person.

A thought formed in her head. Morningstar did not have to bite someone to kill them. She, like many of the other dragons, had one thing unique to her. Baelerion had his unmatched size. Meleys was the fastest of the living dragons, even with her large form. Caraxes had a long neck, resembling a bloodwyrm. Sunfyre had his renowned beauty. Syrax had a regal grace to her that no other dragon matched.

Morningstar released a blue fire from her chest, burning hotter than the orange and red fires of her kin. She seldom used it, other than to cook her food. It scorched everything it touched in less time than other dragonfire. Daenys bit her cheeks anxiously. She would not live to the sunrise.

She would not see the bruises form and eventually fade.

She would not see her dear brothers again, nor race in the skies with Vermax and Arrax.

She would not feel her mother's warm embrace.

She would not see Cregan's kind eyes again.

But it would be her choice. Her sacrifice. For once, Daenys would do something. Perhaps not heroic, like her fathers', or significant like her mother. She would prevent herself from being held hostage with her timely death. Daenys knew that if she were taken, put to the gallows publically, Rhaenyra would back down in order to save her only daughter. It was obvious what the smarter option was, objectively.

She swallowed down her nerves, coming to a solemn acceptance.

Sliding her hand up her bunched skirt, Daenys slid the dagger slowly down her leg, uncaring if she nicked her skin. She could only feel the cold pommel in her grip and the hot adrenaline in her blood. On one side, she clutched her dagger. On the other, she reached for Seamus' weaponed hand. She snatched his wrist in a chokingly tight hold, trying to force his hand to open and drop his dagger. He jerked in surprise, not expecting the underwhelming Princess to act out. In his sudden movement, the dagger grazed her neck, drawing an angry red line of blood from it. She gripped the wrist tighter, his body acting against him and opening his hand up to drop the dagger. It fell to the forest floor, long out of his reach. She whipped her other hand down on his, stabbing it straight through his hand and into the saddle.

Seamus screamed out in pain, howling curses at the girl. "Forget alive! The King will have you returned in bits and pieces!"

When he tightened his arm around her waist again, she pulled the dagger back to her chest, allowing his blood and twitching hand to smack her across the jaw wildly. She twisted and fought in his grip, hot blood smearing across her face and neck. Seamus' eye was squeezed shut painfully from a scratch she managed to give the eyeball directly; the sight pridefully reminded her of Aemond. They both heaved with effort, fighting each other and to stay on the saddle. Below, Morningstar fluttered her wings in a panic, hearing Daenys yelp into the cold air.

He reached for her dagger, grunting when she continued to slice at his exposed hand's flesh. They continued their struggles, both covered in blood now. Daenys turned at the waist, taking the flying fist at her eye with a crazed look in her violet eyes. She stabbed the dagger into his soft belly, satisfied at hearing him cry out. When he pushed her into the front of the saddle, hands trying to keep a grip at her neck, she cried out. At her struggles, he slammed her repeatedly into the hard material of the saddle by the tight grip of her scalp, leaving her breathless and light-headed. "Stay still, you little brat!" He growled into her ear.

"Dracarys!"

Morningstar repeated her cry, refusing the command fiercely. Seamus left the dagger in his stomach to keep himself from bleeding out, though he was tempted to in order to kill the Princess faster. He would have to be satisfied with feeling the breath leave her throat.

"Dra—arys, Morn—!" She yelled breathlessly, wheezing at the excertion. The pressure was too much, black spots filled her vision.

Finally, after much reluctance from the white beast, the skies erupted in a beautiful icy blue light. Daenys, still pinned to the front of the saddle, could only shield her face uselessly with a single arm. Seamus, enchanted with the sight, had sat up. Daenys grinned hauntingly, baring red teeth to no one. Blood smeared across her lips and face, giving her the appearance of the dead already. At least Morningstar would return to Cregan. He would not be left clueless.

Morningstar easily flew through the impossibly hot flames, her dragonscales keeping her unscorched. Seamus, however, was not so lucky. His pain-filled screams didn't last very long, the blue fire-lit man lighting up the clouds like a thunderstorm. Daenys, too, was covered in the dazzling light, but her throat made it impossible to scream.

Morningstar knew the fate of her rider, mournfully calling out for her one final time. She sung the song that Daenys was always happy to hear, sometimes singing back when they were alone. The dragoness did not waste time flying any further toward the crownlands, descending toward the snowy woods and to the nearest clear patch she spotted. The smell of burning flesh filled the area that she landed in, the sound of two bodies individually thumping to the melting ground. But Morningstar refused to look at the bodies, refused to have the sight of Daenys tainted with what she had done. Killing her own rider, a sacred bond broken. The dragon curled in on herself, waiting to join her rider in death. No matter how long that took.

🗡

Daemon ruled over Dragonstone's council in Rhaenyra's absence. Jacaerys and Daenys have both yet to return, not yet receiving the dreadful news. Rhaenyra had left on dragonback immediately after the raven came, searching for anything to let her see the truth of it for herself. Daemon mourned Lucerys, too, in his own quiet way. He had to be strong for his family, for the living.

He left the council in the afternoon, wandering the empty halls of Dragonstone. Missing three children from its vast halls, the castle was a shell of its former vibracity. Daemon passed Jace's chambers on his way to Joffreys room, then paused when he noticed Daenys' door ajar.

He remembered that it had been closed when she left. Daenys had always been particular about who went in her room, constantly reminding her younger brothers to knock before they entered. Carefully, he creeked the door open, hand resting on his sword.

No one was inside.

Only a few scattered books and pages on her desk that Daemon knew wasn't the work of his daughter. She was a tidy person, never a thing out of place in her quarters. It brought her peace within her little bubble. Perhaps Joff had gotten curious, rumaging through her 'girly' romance books, as the boys liked to tease her for reading.

He approached the desk, ready to organize the books and place them back onto her shelves. He noticed the scribbles on the pages, the first instinct he had to associate with them was Joffrey's childish writings, but upon closer inspection he saw that they were a repeat of the same words.

Dates were placed at the top of each page that he turned to. A personal journal, Daemon concluded. Curiosity got the better of him, sitting to read what the contents were. He wished he had put the book back when he delved into the rabbithole that was Daenys' mind.

Every day, for the last seven years, was dated throughout many journals. Some worn, some newer. She started to document her 'dreams' after Laenor's death. There was one most nights. Some mundane—forseeing what she would eat the next day. Others painful—like Daenys knowing that she would take a tumble from the steps of Dragonstone's cobble steps. Others, on a rarer occasion, prophesied important events in their family's life. Most of these dreams were documented in an obsessive way. Sentences were written down hundreds of times, no doubt mindlessly by Daenys, who was still deep into her vision.

She foresaw Viserys' death, Aegon's usurping, Meleys killing hundreds of smallfolk in the dragonpit, Rhaenyra losing Visenya to stillbirth. Why hadn't she ever said anything, before hand? The dreams are always dated either the night before they happened or merely a few days later. Daemon flipped furiously through the journals, looking for answers.

Daenys kept returning to one dream. One, that wasn't foretold. Laenor's death by fire. She had never trusted her mind to tell her the truth after it had not warned her about her own father's demise. She cursed the Gods boldly in writing and cursed herself for letting her father's life slip out of her grasp.

She did not know a truth from a lie, though all those that haunted her after were true. Still, she did not confess them to Rhaenyra or Daemon in fear that she would be wrong. One wrong warning and disaster might strike from ill preperations. Daemon rested his head in his hands, rubbing at his temple stressfully. It was Rhaenyra who went through her journals, too. She must have searched through every word of them for a glimpse at Lucerys' fate but found nothing like Daemon had. Daenys left Dragonstone before she could foresee his death. Daemon couldn't find it in himself to be cross with his daughter. It was his fault she never confessed her visions anymore. He had plotted with Rhaenyra to fake Laenor's death, keeping it a secret to all in the realm except for themselves, even Laenor's children.

Could this have been prevented? All of this, the war, the usurping, Luke's death. If only Rhaenyra and Daemon had confessed their sins.

🗡

It was hours that Cregan spent on horseback, looking between the trees and the skies in hopes of spotting the white dragon. Dusk had gone ahead, running at a pace that a horse could not keep up with for nearly as long. He was forced to walk most of the time, lest he killed Red by exhausting the poor horse. Every second that passed by was torture. His mind never let him forget the terrified look in Daenys' eyes.

He let her slip away again. This time, due to his own stubbornness. He distanced himself from the Princess, a hundred reasons why nagging in his brain. But none of them mattered now, when he had allowed her to go off on her own. He knew she was upset. He knew that she was leaving the campsite because of the unbearable silence.

Cregan knew, and still let her out of his sight. He failed again after promising that he would protect her. Those sad violet eyes, which had looked at him with all the trust in the world, were out of his reach.

Taken hostage on her own dragon, being used for Knott's selfish desires. Cregan knew he would be a man damned to eternal suffering if he believed in the New Gods. For the first time in his life, he regretted not following them. His only punishment would be his own guilt, which would eat away at him for the rest of his mortal life.

Cregan straightened in his seat when Dusk came sprinting to Red's heels, barking urgently. Cregan signaled for the direwolf to go on again, commanding Red to gallop in a chase. What had he found? Cregan hadn't seen or heard Morningstar since they had left, only instinctively going straight South like he knew Daenys woukd guide Morningstar. Dusk must have heard something that his owner could not.

The direwolf held himself back in terms of speed, staying at a pace that Cregan could keep in his sights at all times. It was not another half hour before Cregan spotted Morningstar curled up in a clearing. Dead? No, that was impossible. There were no threats to the dragon so far North.

Cregan slowed Red to a hault, jumping from the mount with a frantic resolve similar to his wolf's. His whole body was tense at the sight of Morningstar alone. If Seamus had forced Daenys to land and took her somewhere on foot, the dragon would be at the treeline, tearing out trees one by one to get to Daenys.

Where was she?

He almost didn't want to know.

Cregan approached Morningstar slowly, holding his hand out and brushing against the dragon. No response. No growl, no purr, no lifting her head to see who had approached her. He would assume the dragon was dead where she laid if he did not watch her middle slowly move up and down, as if she were only in a deep sleep. "Morningstar," Cregan murmured, coaxing the dragon to wake up.

Only the winds of the North filled his ears as they rustled through the trees. Dusk's growl perked his ears as he focused on the dragon, futility attempting to make her wake.

"What is it, boy?" Cregan asked from the other side of Morningstar. He walked around to where Dusk's call came from, freezing upon the sight. A large, extremely burn body lay dead on the floor next to the dragoness' wing. It was pure black, no sign of any distinguishing features that once dorned the body. To Cregan's relief, it was the size of an adult male. Seamus was dead.

But where was Daenys? And what happened to make Morningstar not be pleased at her work?

Dusk nudged at someone stuck under the body, whining and sniffing at it loudly. Cregan dragged Seamus' corspe away from it, tossing it aside with a disgusted sneer. Serves the bastard right.

It was Daenys, bare as the day she was born. Curled up instinctively to protect her own body heat, though the fire from Seamus seemed to have done that well enough. How was she alive? Unburnt, unharmed? She looked serene, peaceful, as if she were simply taking a nap in the forest with Morningstar. Cregan stiffended, realizing the situation. He swiftly covered the girl with his cloak, taking her into his arms like one might a wet and shivering kitten. Her skin burned to touch, almost making Cregan drop her: but he persisted through the burn.

Cregan considered himself an avid learner of the histories. It was his duty as a Lord and The Warden of the North to know everything about the Seven Kingdoms and all their houses. That included the Targaryens'. Never once, in any of the expensive texts he can arduously labored over in the late nights after his father died when he was only three and ten, was a fire-proof man or woman every mentioned. A secret, mayhaps, hidden by the Targaryens to not give away their strategies.

It was hard to say. When she woke, Cregan would simply have to ask her himself. For now, though, all that mattered was that the sweet girl was alive and in his arms again. As it should be.

Cregan lifted his head from looking at Daenys' worry-less face. When she was awake, she always had some underlying fear hidden behind all her other emotions. It dominated her, consumed her. Cregan saw it even when she was laughing, when she was safe. He wished to make it go away, to chase off what haunted her soul. But even the strong Lord could not fight internal battles for someone else. He could only hope that she gained enough strength of her own to save herself.

Like tonight. Daenys saved herself from her kidnapper. Cregan would soon figure out how she did it and how she survived it. He had a dark feeling that he would not like the answer.

He brought Daenys to Morningstar's eyeline. Shut, like her rider's, Morningstar looked a mirror image of Daenys. They both looked so much more at peace when not plagued by their thoughts.

"Here, girl..." Cregan murmured, lifting Daenys for Morningstar to notice. The dragon lifted its eyelid slightly, the scent of Daenys filling her nostrils. Immediately, the dragoness' violet eye widened and she jerked up. Delight washed over her features, as much expression as a dragon could have. Morningstar rosed to her wings and hind legs, sniffing at Daenys as if this were only a deceitful dream. Cregan grinned at the sight of the beast being active once more, assuming she had become despondent due to her rider being injured or presumed dead.

He shared in her relief and delight both.

After allowing her to reunite with the Princess, Cregan mounted Red carefully, placing the woman in front of him, facing him to lean on him in her sleep. The cloak still covered her, leaving a slight chill over the Lord's back and shoulders. It did not matter, as long as she was safe. The whole ride, taking well into the sunlight, was spent with one arm clutching the reigns and the other firmly across her waist to keep her safe and close. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in her smokey scent, content to be in her presence again. Even a minute without her felt like torture, not knowing how she wad faring all alone in a perilous situation.

Finally, once they reached the campsite again, Morningstar flying far ahead to it and waiting, Cregan placed her into his tent and bundled the Princess up in more furs. He did not wish to dress her, so it would have to do. He didn't sleep, watching over her and the campsite as he waited for the Princess to awaken.

It took nearly a full day for that to happen. Cregan grew more worried with every passing hour. Night had come, making it almost twenty-four hours since Daenys had been taken on dragonback by Seamus Knott. He stared at her intensely, watching every breath she took and every twitch mistaken for her waking up. He began to wonder if he should turn back to Winterfell, or even continue foward to the closest house, coincidentally Knott. He would be reluctant to take her to the very house where the vile man who hurt her was breed in, but a maester was a maester.

Daenys woke with a pained gasp. Cregan nearly jumped with her, stunned at the movement. "Cregan..." She called for him before she opened eyes. When she did, eyes bleary from her long sleep and likely more unpleasant dreams, Daenys teared up at the sight of the man sitting in front of her.

He was quick to wipe away falling tears, ungloved hands gently caressing her soft skin. "You're safe, my girl. He is dead. He can not hurt you again." He promised her, brows turned up in sympathy for the distressed Princess.

"I know he is dead. I killed him." Daenys sobbed into his warm touch, clutching onto his wrists like a lifeline. "I didn't—I wasn't even sorry for it, when it happened. I was glad that he would die, to hear his pained screams."

Cregan brought her to his chest, wrapping her safely in his embrace. "You cannot blame yourself for what you felt. You are not a bad person for it. Men kill all the time for selfish reasons. You killed to save yourself. It is okay."

"It does, Cregan. It does." She insisted, shaking her head vehemently as she gripped his tunic.

Cregan felt unsure of how to comfort her. He was never the best with words. He killed his first man because of his duty as Lord and Warden. Executing a deserter of The Wall for his crimes and disloyalty. He felt no guilt because he knew it had to be done. Such was the way of his station and the Old Way.

He could only hold her, stroking her hair while she cried. They stayed like that for as long as it took for Daenys to calm. Even after she quieted down, they stayed in one another's arms for the familiar feeling of bittersweet solace.

"I knew you would come for me. Thank you, Cregan." Daenys spoke up hoarsely. Cregan looked down at her, placing a strand of hair behind her ear and ignoring the spots of blood on her face.

"I would've ridden all the way to King's Landing to find you."

She truly believed him.

"I should've headed your advice, then." When he gave her a confused look, she continued. "When you wanted him gone. You didn't trust him from the start, I was naive to believe a kinslayer could ever have honest intentions."

"You wanted to see the good in him, even after I told you his crimes. That is not a sin, Princess. If you only ever saw the bad in your subjects, you would never trust again. You were fair in giving him a chance." Cregan mused, resisting the urge to rest his chin on her head. This position was too familiar for a Princess and a Lord—especially when both were unwed. They ignored that fact multiple times throughout his journey.

Was Cregan a fool for not caring? A better man would've surely escorted her back to Winterfell days ago when the wolf attacked her. The North was no place for a princess. He was a selfish man.

He was not before he met Daenys.

At the very least, he hoped that she did not think him bawdy or vulger for being so close to her. He had never known himself to be a slave to his baser desires, never visiting brothals at every want and whim or taking a mistress before he was wed. No, he was not like most men in that regard.

But oh, how he yearned for her. To simply be in her presence was a blessing from the Old Gods. To hear her brilliant laughter or speak her mother tongue so gently with her dragon. Every little expression she allowed him to bear witness to; joy, sorrow, fear, regret. He wanted it all, forever. Wanted Daenys to be kept safe in Winterfell with him, at least then he could always know she was sound.

She had grown so much in her little time with him. So shy and guilt-ridden to even be stepping foot in his home, though it was well within her rights as a Princess to do as she pleased. She remained gentle although she witnessed the brutal killing of a predator who nearly took her life—killed a different kind of predator herself. The little rabbits and the wolf were given kind words and careful handling even after they felt no pain. The titleness man being mourned and cried for even after he had attempted to use her for his own grab at power.

Cregan wished to covet all of her purity and goodness for himself. To keep her away from all things tainted lest they successfully drag her into their clutches. In Winterfell, she would be safe to flourish. Like a rare winter rose, which could only grow and bloom in specific conditions, Daenys could not do so in King's Landing–or even Dragonstone.

He decided then that he would make the offer to Queen Rhaenyra. His council had advised him of such things when Aegon first usurped the Iron Throne, telling their Lord that the Queen would ask for men, and it would be wise to ask for something in return.

If that made him a selfish man, then so be it.

🗡

Daenys wished she didn't wake up from her tumble off of Morningstar. It would be easier if she burned alongside Seamus. From the moment she gained consciousness, memories and guilt flooded her senses. She killed a man without remorse. For her own defense, Cregan had valiantly reminded her, but that didn't do anything to sooth the bile in the back of her throat.

She was a foolish, spoilt, and naive girl for trusting such a man. She would not make that mistake again. Daenys was glad to see the winter Lord, as well as Dusk and Morningstar, but all that did little to lift her mood. The night passed slowly with Daenys staring at the tent's roof, counting the passing seconds until Cregan woke and they would start their journey once more. She glanced at him, admiring his sharp features in the little light provided by the moon. She was vaguely aware of her state under the furs, and even more aware of how he had seen her before he wrapped them around her. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to care for her modesty.

A nagging question burned in her mind.

Why hadn't she caught fire like Seamus did? Her kin had never recorded such an event in their histories, nor had she dreamt of such things happening to herself nor other people. Laena Velayron was burned to death by her dragon, Vhagar. So clearly, the bond was not what saved her. Daenys wished to test herself once more against fire, but feared that she would not be so lucky a second time. There was no way to know her true condition for certain until she returned to Dragonstone. In the castle, all Valyrion texts were kept and passed down the generations straight from Lord Aenar Targaryen.

Beside her, Cregan stirred. He was closer tonight than he had been previous nights. Much closer, in fact. Their breaths mingled warmly when she faced him, and his arm lay outstretched slightly towards her own. She was exceedingly grateful to the man for all he had done for her over their time together. Patient with her trances, teaching her to hunt and defend herself, comforting her in her dark thoughts. Slowly, Daenys interlocked her fingers with his, squeezing once. She shifted to her side, planting herself close to his body heat and comforting scent. She slept beside him for the remaining hours of the night.

🗡

get yourself a ride or die (literally) like Morningstar, who was determined to let herself starve to death because she couldn't live without her best friend.

i hope cregan's little monologe didn't sound dark or controlling, he truly does love her and wants her safe, knows the south lands would not be good for her because they never have been.

how does one write in a man's pov? I will never know. I feel like I always made them too dark or cold. anyway, I hope yall enjoyed the chapter 🩷 feedback appreciated

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader Ko-Fi

+:✿ Chapter - 17 ✿:+ Beginning of The End 

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Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, SMUT, fingering, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, misogyny, angst, VIOLENCE emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, pregnant reader Word Count: 5.3K

It was early morning. The cold air of the North lingered in your chambers, nipping at your nose and your cheeks. But you found warmth under the thick furs of your bed, and the warm body of your husband who’s arms never left you. You never slept so soundly as when you were in his arms, you always knew you were safe in his arms. 

Sandor however never slept well. When he was without you he worried too much for you, and when he was sleeping with you he worried about keeping you safe. No matter how well the castle you slept in was guarded. 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK three raps upon your door woke Sandor. 

You groaned, stirring slightly from the noise. Sandor’s arms around you tightened slightly, “It's alright, it’s alright.” He soothed you as gently as he could, but for a man with a voice as deep as his it was hardly gentle. Sandor then tilted his head towards the door, “Who is it!” He barked,

His loud shout waking you even more “Sandor…” You whined, pouting your lips and closing your eyes tightly as you curled back up into his chest.   

“Ser Leon, my Lord. Pardon the early hour.” Ser Leon said, making Sandor groan, “Lord Tyrion has requested the Lady (Y/N)’s presence.” Ser Leon said cautiously. 

Sandor sat up slightly, “What does he want with her?” his voice rumbled in his chest.

“Tis the first meeting of her Lady’s council, my Lord.” Ser Leon said,

That alone woke you up completely, you sat up as if you’d been awoken by a bad dream. You looked over to Sandor, “My-” you began, speaking softly, in disbelief. “My council?” You corrected your tone, beckoning out to Ser Leon beyond the door.

“Yes, my Lady. Queen Daenerys has offered the support of her advisor.” Ser Leon said, his tone lighter now that he was speaking with you. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

After running around your chamber, throwing on the first gown you saw, and forcing your husband to lace it for you. You and he made your way to the great hall. 

When you entered you saw Queen Daenerys and Tyrion sitting at the large council table.

You joined them at the table, and your husband stood by your side. As he always did. 

The Queen smiled upon you, “I’ll allow the Northern soldiers to aid your fight. And Tyrion will advise your moves. Though I still have my reservations to allow my dragon to go near it.” Her smile faded, “I’ve lost two of my children, I won't lose another.” 

“I can understand that.” You nodded, though hoped she would change her mind. 

“Well, now that we've settled. What is your plan of action for any surviving Knight of the Vale? Certainly you’ve had time to think this out.” Tyrion began, 

“If I should take the Eyrie,” You leaned forwards, leaning your elbows onto the council table, “I want no harm to come to the opposing knights who survive. They’ll leave any limb they lose as payment for their lives and their betrayal.” You looked up at Tyrion, “They shall leave their positions dishonorably, and work as hedge knights. No house will wish to take in a knight who turns on their oaths.” 

“A merciful conclusion.” Tyrion nodded. 

You nodded in return, then turned to Ser Leon, “Send a raven, to Littlefinger. I’ll meet with him to discuss final terms.” 

“And what are those terms?” Tyrion asked, 

You turned back towards Tyrion, “My land and titles, or I take his head.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ 

After your meeting, you and your husband returned to your chambers. You paced the floor, thinking of what possible next steps you would take. 

Your husband however sat in the chair of your room, and drank from a pitcher of wine in your chambers. “You’d let the cunts who betrayed you live?” He grumbled, 

“Some of them are held captive. Some are confused. Some are just ignorant. None of which are a crime.” You said as you paced the room. 

He shook his head, “You should take their heads for it.” He was far too accustomed to the Lannisters' way of punishment. 

You stopped your pacing, and faced your husband “That’s not the way I am doing this.” 

“And what way are you doing it?” He rasped.

“My own way.” You stepped closer towards him, “You served the Lannisters. The people who took heads for rumors. How much loyalty did it earn them?” His mouth twitched in irritation, “The ones who wish to fight for me will. The ones who don’t, will die in battle. When the battle is won, they’ll be turned loose. Forced to make their own way as a knight who usurped their land and lost. What house will want them then?” You stepped even closer to him. 

His eyes trailed over you, and over your swollen belly. “You’ll need people to love you, but that’ll be easy enough. What you need is for these cunts to fear what might happen to them.” 

You sighed, “I don’t wish to tyrant over my Land, like a Frey.” 

“Do the Freys people love them? Fucks sake, you need both.” He said leaning forward in his seat, “Don’t tell me you never thought of what you’d have done to those cunts who snicker at you. The cunts who talk over you.” He shook his head, “You look at them like you’d like to gut them. I saw that look in Kings Landing enough to know.” He said with a smirk.

“Perhaps.” You huffed,  “I mislike when you speak sense.”

“You don’t like being wrong.” He reached out and grabbed your hand. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, “You’ve fed a man to dogs. People won't forget that. But they shouldn’t forget that.” 

You placed a hand atop his that held yours, “I lost myself, when I lost you. I did things I shouldn’t have done.” You shook your head.  

“It felt good though didn’t it?” He pulled you closer to him, “I can see it in your eyes.” He smirked at you, liking that bit of you, even if you didn’t. “What will you have done to Littlefinger?” 

You thought of it for a moment, “Justice.” you said matter of factly.

He shook his head, “There is no justice.” 

“There will be retribution.” You said impassively. 

Sandor sat back and chuckled to himself. Not that he didn’t take you seriously, but that he did. He knew what you were capable of and was eager to see what you planned to do. 

You however paced again. This time thinking if this war was worth it. What if you were not capable of being warden? Of being the defender of the Vale, and the keeper of the Moon Door? Your father did not prepare you for such duties, though he always promised he would. As Hand of the king he was busy attending to the Realm, and not his daughter. Not that you could stop what you started now, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. 

Your pacing stopped, “Sandor?” You said softly. 

“Mm?” He hummed as he drank from his pitcher. 

You turned around to face him, “Do you think I’m not worthy of it? Inexperienced, ignorant, or like those knights murmur.. a whore?”

He got up, and marched over to you with haste, “Don’t you ever say that.” He snapped at you, his tone low and dark. He grasped your jaw in one hand, gentle but firm. He made you look at him in his eyes. If you were anyone, other than you, he would have broken your jaw for saying what you did. “You hear me? You are none of that, and I’ll kill any foul pious cunt who tries to tell you that.” His eyes were wide. “You understand?” You nodded, you’d never seen him like this with you before. “Say it.”

You furrowed your brows, unable to understand why he felt so “I understand.” You said in a plain and cold voice. You were no longer interested in whatever fears you had about the opinions of others or your ability to rule. All that was gone. Now you stared at the face of your husband, somehow surprised by his commitment to you, and his belief in you. It stretched beyond what you thought possible. “Come here.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his own.

He placed a hand on your swollen belly. You smiled to yourself as he did. Even though your belly had swollen so much, his hand was so large it nearly engulfed all of you. 

“Would you be terribly disappointed if it were a girl?” You asked softly, your head still resting against his forehead.  

“I don’t care what it is.” His voice rumbled softly in his chest, “I couldn’t be disappointed.” 

You placed a hand at the back of his head, holding him close to you “Tell me the truth, are you happy?”

“Do I look unhappy?” He sighed. 

“You always look unhappy.” You said softly

He couldn’t tell you how happy he truly was. He couldn’t because he knew that this was never meant for him. He was born to fight and die for the Lannisters. He did none of it. He chose love over duty no matter if he admitted it or not. He couldn’t tell you he would love that child in you more than anything in this world. He couldn't allow himself to be so soft, even in front of you. The only time he would be is when you slept, and his hand on your swollen belly would feel the babe kick. He would smile to himself and feel his cold demeanor fade. He rubbed your belly once more and sighed, “I don’t deserve it, and I might be shit at it. But I’ll keep it safe, cock or no.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You rode into the point where the Vales Reach ended, and the Riverlands began. An empty field, a proper place for final negotiations. 

You wore a blue riding cloak, as to not allow the men who opposed you forget who you were. Your husband rode in with you of course. Wearing the black armor you had fitted for him. And accompanied by twelve of your men, ten of Jons, and of course Ser Leon. The ride was hard on you, and the babe. You were coming along well in your pregnancy now. Riding did not agree with you in such a state. 

As you approached Littlefinger, you felt your stomach turn. You’d not seen him in so long, and the meer sight of him made you sick. You wanted to jump off your horse and vomit but you’d not let them see you so weak. 

“Look at you. You poor thing. Child bearing certainly does not seem to agree with you. Would it be so hard to turn yourself to domestic pursuits rather than a needless war.” Baelish said mockingly. 

“Shut your cunt mouth.” Your husband grumbled. 

“I see you’ve brought your lap dog to bark for you.” Baelish smirked.

“I speak for myself.” You said, your voice dark and deep. “Terms are simple. Step down now, leave the Eyrie, and return to the Fingers or Kings Landing whichever you prefer. That I have no interest.” Though that might not have been the whole truth. If he did leave, you would have your knights seize him. And he would be dragged to the moon doors to be tried for his crimes. 

“And if I do not comply?” Baelish sighed, not taking you quite seriously. 

“Your head.” You spoke with venom. 

A brief but uncomfortable silence passed, “Bloodshed is unnecessary. I don’t wish for this wedge between us any longer. I gave you a proposal before you were wed, but I don’t wish for war, so allow me to make another. You and your…” Baelish eyed the  giant man beside you, who sneered back at him. “Husband may have the fingers. You’ll have the estate, live your lives comfortably.” Sandor scoffed under his breath, “If you should bear sons they’d be my heir so long as I don’t have my own, they’d learn under me, be my ward, begin their instruction of how to lead. If it’s a daughter… Well if I had my own sons she’d marry one of them.” He stated, as if it were a most judicial proposal.

“I’d rather let my sons learn from the whores in your brothels than from a craven cunt like you. And my daughters would eat your sons alive.” Sandor said, his voice dripping with contempt. 

After a moment, Baelish looked at you with a smirk, “Charming isn’t he? I see how you fell for him.”

“My first born child regardless of their gender will be heir to my titles. There is naught that will stop you. You won’t stop until one of us is dead. You won’t be content to have me living in Winterfell. Or the Fingers. Or even in Braavos… No… because as long as I live and breathe your station will never be secure. I am the challenge. My child is the challenge. they will always pose a challenge to you as well.” You placed a protective hand atop of your belly, “You won’t stop.” 

Baelish looked at your swollen belly, feeling a tinge of jealousy. “A trade then. I give you something of great value-.” 

“I know what a trade is.” You sneered, making your husband chuckle under his breath. “There’s only one thing worth more than the East.”

“What is that? Whatever it is, you shall have it.” Baelish asked enthusiastically. 

“I want my family back. Jon Arryn, Elorie Arryn, Edmure Arryn, Eddard Stark, Catelyn Stark, Rickon Stark, and Ser Varys Cole… I want them back.” You said, rage fueled grief dripping from your voice, and your eyes, “Do you have that?” 

Baelish did not speak for a moment, simply staring at you. Unsure of what to say, 

“She asked you a question.” Your husband asserted.

Baelish looked at your husband then back at you, “What you’re asking for is impossible.” 

“Then she’ll have your head.” Sandor said with a scowl, 

you began to pull your horses reins but then Baelish spoke again. “(Y/N) I beg you once more. I was appointed by the King-“

“That King is dead. And I feel this conversation has become circular and I find no reason or desire to continue it.” You said apathetically. 

“Perhaps the reason you and I were not intended. Wasn’t because your father found me disagreeable. Maybe it was because my reign, unlike your own, would outshine his own.” He said boldly, but soon his confidence dwindled, “I don’t wish for your death, nor the death of the babe in your belly.” He shook his head, “I love you (Y/N), just as I loved your aunt Catelyn, just as I loved your mother-” He looked at you with desperation.

You did not speak, only looking at Baelish wishing you would drive a blade into his heart. And your eyes gave away your desire.

“You speak to my wife like that again and I won’t wait for the war to tear your throat out.” He nearly growled at him as he tugged the reins of the large black horse he sat on.

“Very good, Husband.” You smirked and stifled a laugh as you pulled the reins of your own horse, turning away from Littlefinger.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

By the time you’d arrived back in Winterfell it was once again time to have another council meeting. You sat at the head of it, with once again your Husband standing beside you. 

Joining the table were some Lords you held no regard for, and of course Tyrion was there to advise you. 

You leaned against the table and spoke with confidence, “Northern men, and Eastern men. Together we break even with Littlefinger's men. Assuming he does not employ the aid of other eastern or southern houses.”

“Assuming.” Tyrion said, prompting you to think deeper. 

“So we must employ the aid of the eastern houses. They all swore oaths to my house. If they keep their promises we’ll out number Littlefinger easily.” You were confident in your words.

Tyrion nodded but then leaned forward, preparing to add something new to the conversation. “There is one cause for concern in your alliances in the Vale. The hill tribes have steel weapons now.”

“Yes they do. And who provided those to them?” You nodded with a sarcastic smile, then your smile faded. “With my men, the northern men, and the houses of the Vale together, I believe the Eyrie can be penetrated.” You shook your head, “I don’t need the hill tribes blessing to do any of that.”

“Still, with their weapons they’ve become a growing threat towards the people of the Vale, and travelers. If you could neutralize them, you’d gain the support and respect of the other houses”  Tyrion explained

“What do you suggest? We kill them all?” You asked stifling a laugh, thinking it was a ridiculous thought.

Tyrion shrugged, “It would be easy enough.They are of little value and have very little experience in warfare. But no. They could be used as a weapon. First we persuade them with honey.” 

“The fuck is he talking about?” Sandor rasped, not wanting to hear anything that might be offensive to your honor. 

Tyrion spoke cautiously, “The Hill Tribes despise house Arryn. Despise you. But they despise outsiders as well. And I would wager they despise the fact Littlefinger managed to usurp an Arryn before they did.” 

You sat back in your seat with a huff. You crossed your arms, “Do you know how many there are? Black Ears, the Burned Men, the Howlers, the Milk Snakes, the Moon Brothers, the Painted Dogs, the Redsmiths, the Stone Crows, the Sons of the Mist, and then there’s the Sons of the Tree.” You sighed, “All of which hate one another. More than that they all hate me and my blood. I am sure this perversion of a succession has only served them as a great jest.” 

Tyrion began more passionately in his argument, “Offer them Lands. The Pebble, The Paps, Witches Isle-“

“All of which are homes of seated houses sworn to the rule of House Arryn. If I send fleets of tribesmen to their door, I start a new war. And lose any possibility of alliance.” You said intensely. 

“Then what would you decide?” Tyrion huffed. 

“You speak of offering the claimed land of people sworn to me to people who wish me dead.” You stifled a laugh, “If you suggested a massacre I’d be more willing.” You looked down, taking his words into serious consideration, “The sisters have been a place of loose hold. Write to all three. Offer protection in return for their alliance. If not then that is where we shall send them.” You finished, about to leave the chamber before a voice interrupted you.

“What of your brother?” Lord Royce said, making his presence known. “He is a boy of five and ten now. And he misses his elder sister dearly.” 

You turned to face him, “We were never very close. Hardly a family.” You said stoically

“And yet, all the family he has ever had.” He said. You felt a sting of guilt, having never really given him a thought. “I would suggest, humbly, you seek him out. He would be a powerful ally to have in the eyes of the eastern houses. One ancient house united against their usurper.” Lord Royce said confidently. .

You huffed, “Perhaps you are right.” you said with a somber nodded.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

As you left your small council meeting, you and your Husband took your steps nearly in tandem. A formidable pair.

“My Lady-” Ser Leon said in haste as he approached you quickly, cut off by the brick wall that was your husband who raised an eyebrow at the man as he glared at him. 

You looked behind you, noticing him “Ser Leon.” You said in a huffed greeting, looking forward as you continued to walk.

“My Lady-” He continued attempting to ignore the intimidating presence of your husband, “Might I suggest that I represent yourself within meeting the Hill Tribes, and perhaps even in meeting with young Robin as well.” 

“I’ll speak to them myself.” You said dismissively, sure of your ability. 

“My Lady I am unconvinced that plan of action is the wisest, nor the safest.”

You stopped in your tracks annoyed and frustrated you turned to Ser Leon. You sighed letting your annoyance go. “Very well then. Explain your concerns.” You said with a calm voice and hard eyes.

“I do not doubt your will, my Lady. However I believe the offer may be taken with more confidence, and seriousness if delivered by a Knight.” 

Your eyes narrowed, stepping closer to him, “And why would my own words not be taken with seriousness?” 

He shifted uncomfortably, and began cautiously “It is only… the gentler sex is-“ 

You raised your hand, and slapped him across the cheek. Sandor reached for the hilt of his sword.

You stepped closer to him, staring him down, “I fed a man to dogs.” You shook your head. “I am not gentle.” Ser Leon nodded and looked down, “As your lady I encourage you to question my logic but do not ever misjudge my sex.” Your tone was cold as you hissed your words at him, “I am the challenge.” You placed a hand on your stomach, though not taking your eyes off of him, “My child, is the challenge. If you wish for me to allow a threat to my child to breathe and live you’re wrong.” You tilted your head, “If I send a Knight to go and do my bidding, how much of a challenge do I appear to be?”

Without allowing him to answer, you turned and continued to walk. Your husband following behind you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

Not long afterwards, as you and your Husband were walking up the halls, Sandor pulled you into a room. As he closed the door, confusing your men on the other side. You looked around the small chambers. It must have been a room meant for spare inventory of supplies. 

He pushed you against the cold stone wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck. 

“What’re you-Awh” Your words were cut short by his rough and calloused fingers running up your thighs underneath your skirts. As his fingers haphazardly moved your small clothes to the side, they began toying with your cunt, “Mphmm” was the only sound you were able to make before his mouth crashed against yours. Drinking in your moans of pleasure. Both to keep you quiet and because he couldn’t control himself when you used your authority so well.

His fingers entered your core, the feeling so intense you bit down on his lip. But he relished in it. The pleasure was so great as his fingers pulsed against the soft spot inside of you. “You make me proud to be your husband, you know that?” His fingers did not relent continuously pushing in and out of you, “So- fucking- proud.” He growled against your ear. 

Your body gave into its pleasure quickly. Being so unprepared for such stimulation. You felt yourself shake as you reached your climax. And thank the gods your Husband was holding you close.

You looked at him with half lidded, relaxed eyes. Wanting to please him the way he did you. You reached for the ties of his breeches. 

He grabbed your wrist and tisked at you, “Not now,” He rasped. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you good and hard later.” he groaned as he pressed his hardened cock against your thigh once more. He fixed your hair for you as you caught your breath, “Go on then.” He said with a pat on your ass. 

As he opened the door for you, and you stepped out. You looked at the men who waited for you. 

“My Lady.” Ser Leon said with his head bowed apologetically. 

You looked at him briefly, now with a clearer head knowing what you’d done was wrong. “Apologies.” You muttered before continuing on. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You rode into Runestone, with Lord Royce, Tyrion, and of course your Husband. Though now you were now confined to a carriage as your pregnancy progressed. You weren’t happy with it, but Sandor insisted. 

As your carriage came to a stop. Sandor opened the door. He helped you out of the carriage, nearly picking you up. You placed a hand on his chest, “I’ll speak to my brother alone.” You said softly, “If he’s anything like how I remember him, he listens best when spoken to softly.” 

Sandor nodded, and watched you as you walked down the hill, making your way to your brother’s training. 

“I’ve heard the saying to never give a wench a sword on her blood, but what of one with child?” A tall Royce guard said to the other guards. They all snickered, but your Husband did not. 

Sandor turned towards the Royce guards, “The fuck did you say?” He grumbled, as he walked towards the men. 

“A bad joke.” Tyrion said, attempting to ease the situation. 

The Royce guard however did not take Lord Tyrion's grace, further antagonizing your husband. “The King commanded a man to rule for a reason.”

“Fuck the King. He’s dead. His command is dead. And Littlefinger is a cunt.” Sandor nearly growled. 

The man scoffed, “Might be a cunt. But I know she has a cunt. She is a-”

“Careful.” Sandor hissed, “Careful how you end that.” His eyes narrowed. 

A smaller guard stepped towards the taller one, “You heard what he did to that knight in Winterfell. Broke his jaw clean off the hinges one blow.” The smaller guard warned. The taller man however, looked back to Sandor, as if he had a chance at besting him. 

“I’d listen to them.” Tyrion said, not wanting a physical fight to occur during your first attempt of creating an alliance. 

The man however, did not listen, continuing, “The Arryns have long stood with the Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Crown. Obeyed their orders. Now, she’s let Valemen die for the Starks after the Lannisters sided with the Botlons.” 

“Enough-“ Tyrion began,

“Let him talk.” Sandor said calmly, his eyes staying on the man.

The man took a confident step forward, “You abandoned your duty to the Lannisters. And she abandons her duty as a woman twice now. Only giving in now. Some think of it as peculiar.” He said with a mocking grin. 

“And what do you think of it?” Sandor stepped forward, biting his lip. Begging for the man to give him a reason to do what he so desperately wanted to do already.

The man grinned, stepping forwards “She’s not a Queen. She cannot do as she pleases. I bet you bloodied that pretty white cloak with her maidenhead. No, she is no queen and now she’s no lady, she is a whore.” 

With a growl and his armored fist, Sandor punched the man in the mouth. He did just as he had done before, with one blow he broke the man's jaw. But with the next blow he shattered the man's nose, and his last blow breaking his teeth.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As you walked down the small hill, you saw your brother sparing with another boy near his age. You were thrown off slightly by how much he had grown. He was nearly a man now. You felt dread, you never felt close to Robin, and never even felt related. But now at a time like this, you needed to make this alliance. 

“Brother.” You said beckoning out to him. 

He turned around quickly at the sound of your voice. “Sister!” Robin said with a smile, he dropped his wooden sparring sword and ran into your arms. 

You were somewhat startled by the gesture, “I did not think you would be happy to see me.” 

He looked down, feeling somewhat guilty, “I was an awful child. Weak, and sheltered.” 

“I was an angry child.” You smiled softly at him, you looked him up and down, noticing how tall he has grown, “You are nearly a man grown it would seem.” 

He smiled, though his smile soon faded. “I should tell you.” He said more stoically, “Baelish has come to me. Offering to make me his heir.” 

You rolled your eyes as you stifled a laugh, “Funny, he offered my unborn child the same.” You smiled at him half heartedly, attempting to find the humor in such a situation. 

Robin however did not smile back. His expression was a guilty and worried one. He pulled out a dagger from his belt, previously covered by his cloak. “He gave me a dagger to kill you with if you ever came to see me.” 

You put your hand on top of his, making him halt his actions. “If my husband sees you pull a dagger out he’ll kill you before you can explain why you have it.” You said with narrowed eyes. Slowly you removed your hand. Extending it towards your hand towards him, “Give it,” You commanded, he hesitated, “It’s alright. I will not hurt you.”

So he obeyed you. Placing the handle of the dagger in your hand. He huffed disappointed in himself. “I did not wish to hurt you, sister.” He shook his head, “I also have no desire to hold power over the Vale.”

You took the dagger and placed it in your belt, “That is a relief.” You sighed. You looked at Robin who was still looking down, shamefully. You placed your hand on his cheek, “Robin, we’ve only one another now. And a pretender has driven us out of our home. Either to ward for house Royce, or attempted through a marriage to the Boltons.” You continued, “I’ll have Ser Leon, knight you. And once we kill the pretender you shall be Lord of the Fingers.” 

“Baelish offered me the same.” He said, clearly uncertain of what the right choice was.

You spoke slightly harsher, “Robin, you’ve no reason to support me. But I believe that Baelish has no intention of making you or my child heir, or lord or lady of any land. He’ll do to us as he did our father, and your mother.” You said with hard eyes,  “I believe that if I have your support, I can get our home back.” You asserted. 

He nodded, “You have it,” he said confidently. His eyes wandered behind you, seeing a large and tall man off in the distance. Looking down at you and your brother. A man with half his face burnt, and his knuckles bloodied. “Is that your husband?” He asked with a frightened expression. 

You looked behind you, seeing your Husband. You smiled softly, “Yes he is.” You looked back to your younger brother, who still looked frightened. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.” you placed a hand on the cheek of your brother. Looking at his face, studying it slightly,  “You look so much like father.” You said softly with a smile, to which he then wrapped his arms around you once more. 

Perhaps this alliance would not be such a difficulty. 

Atop the hill where Sandor stood, watching down upon you protectively. Tyrion approached him from behind. 

“Seems the man will live.” Tyrion said with a sarcastic cheerful tone. 

Sandor huffed, “If I’d an ax I'd have his head.” 

Tyrion tilted his head and furrowed his brow, “Not sure that would be the wisest option.” 

“Not going to let some cunt in armor spew foul shit about my wife.” Sandor sneered.

“That little scene could harm how the Valemen see her.” Tyrion explained passively.

Sandor looked at Tyrion defensively, “Hope so. Now they’ll know to hold their tongue.”

“Perhaps you should show a little more restraint.” Tyrion said cautiously. 

“I showed it when you stumbled to our table drunk. When you shouted about the babe in her fucking belly.” 

Tyrion squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, “If I bother you so much why don’t you just cut me down? It’d be easy enough.” 

“There was a time I would have. She wouldn’t like it.” Sandor sighed, disappointedly. 

“You must love her.” Tyrion said, looking at the Hound as if he were a riddle to solve. 

Sandor looked down to Tyrion, “You have your honor. And I have mine.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE:

is this too heavy on war? idk anymore yall. And srry for the short smut scene. it’s just smth sweet for the readers.

K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags: 

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0

@drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3 @hotvillianapologist

@childofheresy

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Obsessive Aemond with Nephew user prisoner of war headcanons

(User has more Valyrian features unlike his brothers)

Obsessive Aemond Targaryen With war prize nephew

Tags: Targcest

Aemond had taken you as his war prize after the greens had won the dance and the rest of your family was murdered or executed. Yet aemond decided to spare you from the stranger and instead take you as his. Perhaps it was because you didn't have the bastard features like your brothers had and instead looked more targaryen than strong or perhaps it was because as children you had not taken part in his bullying or his maiming on driftmark. You did not know nor did you wish to ask.

You had expected to be chained and locked up in the dark damp dungeons of the red keep, perhaps even beaten or tortured like a prisoner but you weren't. You were locked up in the bed chambers next to Aemonds, Guards were constantly outside your door so you couldn't try to leave, your dragon was chained up in the dragon pit as a precaution. You could ask for whatever you wanted except to leave.

You were allowed out of your chambers after a few weeks of behaving into the gardens with a group of guards with you keeping you in line.

Aemond would come to see you often mostly to just watch you or sometimes he would speak to you without taunts but not always.

He would often have you dressed in green to show that you belonged to him and the greens. He would sometimes put you on the back of vhagar and parade you around the kingdom as his prize. It gave him satisfaction that you were his.

After a couple of moons of being his prize/prisoner he relaxed a little since you hadn't tried to run or escape. He began coming to you after irritating council meetings or after he had been fighting any of your mothers loyalists that were still around, you would help him calm down or you would aid him with undressing and bathing if he needed it.

In a twisted and slightly unhealthy way you found comfort in his company so the night he had come to visit you  and took you to bed it didn't feel unpleasant or unwanted.

Even After He told you he should hate you, that you should disgust him he had sounded as if he was convincing himself instead of you.

After the first night, it happened again and again until it was a regular occurrence of finding comfort in his arms to the point of moving into his bed chambers. On nights that the horrors and sometimes the guilt haunted aemond he would find himself laying in your lap his hair being played with or laying against your chest.

Eventually you were allowed out of your shared chambers by yourself without Aemond or a hoard of guards beside you giving you more freedom to the point of aemond even allowing you to see your dragon and sometimes allow you to go flying with him the more he realised that you weren't going to run away.

It began to feel less that you were a prize and more his lover. His possessiveness over you became more like how you would be possessive over your lover and not a possession. He would bring you to council meetings against the council's wishes and allow you to sit in.

He didn't allow anybody to disrespect you or demean you or call you a bastard, even going as far as punishing those who did.

[spacerockfloater]

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of Rhaena’s character and I am upset that she’s replacing Nettles, but the way Team Black is treating her is disgusting.

Like, this may shock you people, but this parentified child clearly expressed that she has no interest in playing house with her step-siblings, nor could she possibly offer actual help in case they required it. They have maids and soldiers to protect them. What could she do to aid them any further? And what’s crazy is that she’s still fighting for her family! She’s adding a whole ass dragon to their army! She’s much more helpful this way than she would have been if she went away with the kids. Y’all say you want women in power until a woman chooses to go against Rnaenyra’s direct wishes and follows her own path in life. You truly don’t give a fuck about women. You only liked this girl when she was suffering.

Rhaenyra treats her stepdaughters like absolute dogshit. Marries their father a couple of weeks after their mother’s death. Robs them of their inheritance. Uses Baela as a disposable scout and weapon, prioritising Jace’s life over hers. Sends Rhaena to exile and makes her responsible for the wellbeing of her kids, not to mention that she tasks her with swaying Lady Jeyne to their side and covering up for the fact that she did not keep her end of the deal which was providing the Vale with a dragon to protect them.

Let this girl breathe, damn. She’s doing something for herself for once! After years of being dragon-less and neglected by her own father, seen as unworthy and living in the shadow of her sister, she can shine a little bit. And she’s doing it all for her family!

Oh and by the way, your snide remarks about her expressions and how she looks are not fooling anyone. Yeah, the costume department is not doing her any favours, but we all know what you mean. Fucking racists.

[horsewithaface]

So I rewrote the Battle of the Five Armies for my Everyone Lives AU because yes I’m still in denial and no you can’t stop me

• Everything up to Fíli getting captured is the same

• Fíli is caught by Azog and held out over the cliff. Kíli is below in the nook. While Azog is giving his speech, Kíli shoots him from below in the wrist, causing him to let go of Fíli. Fíli falls to the ground, onto Kíli, breaking his fall, who drags him into the nook and hides him as he tends to his brother’s wounds. Fíli regains his strength after a short moment and, despite Kíli’s better judgement, Fíli gets up, and races back to the top, calling for Kíli to follow.

• The two brothers fight countless orcs as they climb the stairs of Ravenhill, searching for Thorin. Once they come upon the plateau of ice, they find Bilbo weeping over Thorin as they speak.

��� Kíli shuts down, thinking it is too late, but Fíli remembers something crucial. Back in Lake-town, he had pocketed a pouch of Kingsfoil in case his brother’s wounds hadn’t truly healed. With it was a messily-written note of Tauriel’s incantation written out phonetically.

• “I will not let you go, uncle. Not today. It is not your time. We will have a great feast tonight and will walk within the halls of Erebor among our kin. I cannot walk there without you.” - Fíli to Thorin as he kneels down opposite Bilbo, preparing the Kingsfoil. He rips open Thorin’s shirt, revealing the weeping wound before pressing the mixture into it. Thorin lets out a roar of pain but Kíli snaps to attention and runs to hold him down to stop his thrashing. Bilbo grabs Thorin’s hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the bloodied knuckles, whispering pleas for him to hold on.

• The Kingsfoil incantation only partially works due to Fíli being a novice in elven spells, however it buys them time for Gandalf to get there and finish the spell properly.

• Thorin is taken to the medical hut where he regains his strength for the next week despite his refusal and insistence that he is fine. Bilbo eventually gets through to him and Thorin gives in, allowing the healers to aide him.

• Thorin does not remember what happened when he had succumbed to the dragon sickness, it is only when Bilbo flinches at a sudden movement of his when he is getting frustrated that Bilbo realises Thorin does not remember. Bilbo reluctantly tells him the truth when Thorin demands to know what he did wrong.

• Thorin never forgives himself for his actions, even going so far as to denying his birthright and banishing himself from Erebor. He gives the crown to Fíli who does not accept it, choosing to go with him for Thorin is more important to Fíli than ruling. Kíli never wanted the crown and so the brothers appoint Dain as the rightful king for they would not have prevailed without him.

• Thorin and Bilbo part ways, Bilbo returning to Bag End unsure if he will ever see Thorin again because despite what happened, he never blamed Thorin for it was the fault of the dragon sickness and not his own mind.

• After about a year, Bilbo hears a knock at his door. He is greeted with a very nervous Thorin, quite a juxtaposition from his usual stoic nature. Bilbo doesn’t believe his eyes, convinced that he is dreaming. Thorin cannot help but whisper, “Bilbo…” before engulfing the hobbit in a hug.

• Thorin rambles on a whole poetic speech about how he does not deserve redemption for his actions and he simply came to apologise. Bilbo takes Thorin’s face in his hands, pulling him down to eye level.

• “Stop it. Just stop it, you giant oaf. I forgive you. You never let me speak my mind after the battle. I never blamed you, Thorin. I never have and I never will. It was that bloody dragon, not you. I stand by my word when I say that I am glad that I have shared in your perils. You are more than any Baggins deserves.”

[radiance1]

Mechanical eastern dragon.

Danny, ever since he was a wee little lad, about 5 or so. Really liked eastern dragons since he found out about them, so much so that he even tried to make his own little eastern dragons!

When Jack saw that, it seemed to strike something in him and suddenly Danny found himself having a more experienced hand aiding him in his crafts.

Jack started directing him towards something simpler than a dragon when he was first starting out, then over time gradually let him make certain parts of a dragon instead of all at once, then when they were all complete, they stuck them together and Danny? Well, he found out why his dad liked to build so much.

So, he started to build more and more little things, small yet complex that'll eventually come together to form his eastern dragon.

As he got older, and his parents became more and more focused on their portal project, he eventually decided that, hey, why doesn't he just make a giant version of his little crafts?

An actual dragon.

Of course, such a thing was no easy feat, so he started it just like his dad taught him too, little pieces over time that'll eventually come together to make what will essentially be his masterpiece.

However, he lacks the parts to do so.

Well, not exactly considering there's a lot of household things he could take apart for scrap, but his parents are already doing that, plus he wants way better materials that'll really shape this up to be his mastepiece.

So he took to instead drawing out how it'll look, and creating various minor pieces that'll go into powering it and stuff. He took some of the ectoplasmic batteries his parents' didn't have a use for anymore, and kinda just, fused them together?

Either way, he made a core that'll be the basis of power for his dragon when he completes! Of course, it'll have to go over multiple modifications over the years while he refines the design for his dragon, to make it able to hold more energy, more durable and far more powerful.

He won't lie, he was both extremely suspicious and immensely grateful when Sam gave him a diamond of all things to make a battery out of, because she obviously wanted something outta it. What did she want? Dibs on being one of the first too see his creation when its finished.

Very simple, plus she said her parents could buy another one anyways. Ah, the joys of being rich.

Then he heard from his parents about how their portal works, though he wasn't too interested since he was too busy building the skeleton of his dragon from the parts Sam gave him.

Tucker, who was dabbling in coding, decided that he was going to attempt to create a high level AI for Danny's project, which Danny was all for! Great materials provided by his friend, and then his other one wanted to make an AI specifically for his masterpiece?

Why would he ever say no?

Jazz has been acting pretty weird thought lately, he noticed a bit after the day he was made aware of how his parents' portal managed to work, how he still isn't sure, nor did he actually believe there was a realm of the dead but eh. He would admit, he wasn't terribly close with his sister, ever since he started up his master work, and became a fink, but he could tell something was different.

Really only because she seemed to be finally getting off his case about how much work he's putting into his dragon and less into taking care of himself properly, which she usually does by bossing him around. But he thinks she's just busy, and is too busy to even care at this point so it didn't really matter.

He was a bit blindsided by ghosts actually being real but easily accepted it to be honest. Like, he's been using stuff powered by ectoplasm that ghosts are supposedly made of, so it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, a ghost fighting against another ghost was new, different from what his parents had told him, but it was nice to have someone protecting the town other than his parents at the very least.

As he got closer and closer to finishing his masterpiece, and as Tucker himself almost finishing with the AI, his grades weren't receiving that much attention, he would admit. He would look back at them when he completed it, alright? But not now.

Then came a day where he was saved from a ghost attack by Amity Park's hero, and while he was extremely tired, he recognized that bossiness, snobbish attitude and smothering from anywhere. Did he expect his sister to be the ghostly town hero? No, no he did not.

Was he going to tell anyone? Not really, he cared, but he didn't care that much about to go around talking about it. Also, wasn't his place to spill his sister's secret really.

Also, she didn't know he knew, and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

Just as he was nearing his completion, only having just a few finishing touches before it was ready for the AI to be uploaded to it, a test popped that he apparently had to study for, with his sister already passing with flying colors (which just proves how much smarter she is than him, because she fights ghosts regularly, he doesn't, doing something much safer and what does he have to show for it?) and urging him to study. Which, with her attitude that got even worse, after becoming half-ghost and a hero, he just, couldn't take.

He's thankful that ghost came when they did, because he just couldn't stand her any longer than that. So he just popped over to Nasty Burger instead, removing himself far as he could from that fight, and of course, of course said fight had to end up there.

The universe just hates him, it seemed. On the plus side, he managed to snag the answer sheet to that C.A.T. test his sister was nagging him about, why would he study if he has this now? Besides, he has something more important to do anyways.

Then a while he's confronted by his sister's apparent alternate evil future self after he dropped his knowledge of her secret in attempts to stave off the conversation of him cheating, which, now that he thought of it, was probably better than finding out and subsequently being knocked out by his sister's alternate self.

Thankfully, when he next awoke, he found his project was perfectly untouched, and then had to leave to take the test. He'll figure out a way to deal with his sister's future self later. While later, he finished the test, and was finally glad to be able to add the last touches to his project.

Oh, right, his sister's evil self. He almost forgot about her if he was being honest. So, he took the Fenton Peeler, and was going to go find his sister before he had to be called to Nasty Burger by his parents and, well, his 'sister' was there, and his cheating was already revealed and decided it's literally whatever and shot her.

Weird that he was separated from everyone else, but it's whatever. Sure, the sauce was going to explode and kill everyone, but he believed in his sister to come and save the day, as she always did and will continue doing and he told his sister's evil self that, and was incredibly smug when it happened.

He watched the fight, cheering a bit from the sidelines because, well, c'mon. It's not everyday he watches his sister beat her future self the up, and he might not get this chance ever again so might as well enjoy it while he can.

Unfortunately, he never accounted for his sister being too weak after said fight to help their parents', Mr. Lancer, and his friends, and then he saw them explode.

Then his sister disappeared.

He, very obviously, did not take this well at all. So, after he got back home, feeling both like shit and nothing at all, he stared at the almost finished eastern dragon sitting to the side of his bedroom/workshop, the only component missing being the AI bead, and promptly broke down crying.

He didn't cry earlier, but he just, couldn't contain himself. His parents were dead, his teacher was dead, and his two only best friends were dead too, and his sister disappeared in front of him and he had no idea where she could be.

He then cried himself to sleep.

Then he woke up, took up the AI bead, and inserted it into the dragon sluggishly.

It's completion was a solemn affair, rather than the bright and happy thing he expected and wanted. No one was around to marvel at his genius, too see the end result of what he tried for years to achieve, and no sister that he could rub it in her face about either.

He had nothing. Nothing but the product created from the combined efforts from him and his friends.

So, what was he to do?

Modify it, of course!

He threw all his attention into it, installing weapons, fiddling around with the core (That he had to take out and put back in) and giving it a lot of ghost shields, and other Fenton tech.

And for what? He doesn't know, but this, giant thing, somehow capable of growing and shrinking to his choosing (he still doesn't know how, even though he made the thing), installed to the brim with Fenton tech, is his.

And he'll use it to find his goddamn sister. Sure, they didn't have the greatest relationship, and sure, she wasn't the best to get along with, but she was the only thing he had left, and whoever took her could pry her from his and his dragon's goddamn hands.

Also, who would he rub his genius in the face of, if he didn't find her?

So, he took off to the zone, got lost, fought a few ghosts with his dragon and Fenton tech, and then ended up in another dimension full of heroes and villains. Did he care about that?

Fuck no.

But apparently, being a 14-year-old and fighting people off with his mechanical dragon was not a normal thing. Sure, he may have overreacted by having said dragon through his aggressors, who were normal humans by the way, through multiple walls, but in his defense.

It was their fault for trying him when he wasn't in the best of moods.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then fall prt.8-The Finale

Description: Can Aeron and Y/N get their happily ever after, or will the impending Dance of the Dragons keep them apart? Dragons, a wild Benjicot, and tourney's, oh my!

Part 7

Writer's note: the final part of Jump then Fall! I had never written a fanfic before this but it's been so fun to get involved with the HOTD fandom. Thank you so much to everyone who read this series :) I'm not sure if I'll write for Aeron anymore as I'll be trying my hand at an Aemond series next. But Elizabeth will hold the fort on the Brackenwood twinks with her Benji content. This includes crossover content with The Blackwood Knight since we accidentally created what we like to call 'The Bracken Tree Multiverse.' 😏

Warnings: swearing, female reader, Canon divergent, hurt/comfort, brief angst, lot's of fluff.

As dawn broke, Aeron made his way to the border with Samwell and Edmund. They did not have to wait long for Benjicot Blackwood to appear over the top of a hill, making his way down to them alone to Aeron's surprise. He was either brazen or so in love with Aeron's cousin that he had become blind to risk. He addressed Aeron with more deference and respect than he'd expected, based on the hostility that had tinged all their previous interactions. "Ser Aeron, I was gladdened to receive your raven." Aeron tried to match his tone "Ser Benjicot, I thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I will get to the point. It is my intention to broker peace between our Houses, your relationship with my cousin has led me to believe you will be amenable to this." Benjicot looked up sharply, can he really have been surprised that his love for Aeron's cousin was the worst kept secret in the Riverlands?

Coughing slightly at the awkwardness of the situation, Benjicot straightened and assumed an air of pride. "I am indeed in love with your cousin. I hope you do not intend to take issue with this. I would prefer not to fight you for fear of upsetting my beloved, I know how she cares for you." Aeron smirked back at him. "I do not take issue with you Blackwood. But it has come to my attention you have been sneaking across the border to see the lady under cloak of darkness. I ask you to desist and to meet with her by day instead before you are married." An uncharacteristic dusting of pink tinted Benjicot's cheeks as he nodded wordlessly. Aeron continued  "I will arrange for you to meet her at the border and take her to visit Raventree Hall on the morrow should this be acceptable to you. The lady herself has already agreed to the arrangement." Benjicot's perpetually cocky smirk returned in full force "I gladly accept. Now tell me of your terms for peace."

The terms were shortly settled and Aeron turned to Edmund as soon as Benjicot was out of hearing distance. "Cousin, I am grateful for your aid today and must ask of you another favour. Can I entrust you to take a message to my Lady, requesting a meeting with her in a location of her choosing. I will not encroach upon her home in the current circumstances. In doing so I trust that you will also issue her with your most heartfelt apology." Aeron's eyebrows rose up at the last, Edmund sheepishly nodding in return. "I will see to it forthwith cousin." Aeron wished to inform Y/N of the fortunate outcome of his meeting with Benjicot in person. He felt her absence most keenly, and seeing her so distressed the previous evening had broken his resolve to stay away from her entirely.

He had just barely been able to bear it when he'd thought it was only him that was suffering so acutely, knowing that it was her wish for him to keep his distance. And he'd instead tried to be content with sending her letters each day and imagining her response to each word. But seeing Y/N look so unwell, watching her burst into tears upon seeing him, and having her practically faint in his arms, had broken his resolve. Nonetheless, he wished to approach this as respectfully and in keeping with Y/N's wishes as possible, sending Edmund with his message first and requesting that she appoint a meeting place herself.

Edmund returned to Bracken Hall before midday with his Lady's response. He let out a sigh of relief as Edmund informed him of her acquiescence to meeting him and that she awaited him presently under their tree. Aeron wasted no time, pocketing a small parcel and departing to meet her at a brisk pace. He slowed his pace as Y/N came into view, palm raised to the trunk of the Brackentree as if reliving a memory. Trying not to startle her, he endeavoured to make enough noise to make his presence known at a distance. She looked up upon hearing the tread of his boots and Aeron stopped a respectful distance away. He looked longingly into her expectant eyes, wishing he could take her hand but knowing his advances would be unwanted at present. He did not assume that because she had allowed him to hold her yesterday, she would allow him to do so today. "My Lady, I am grateful you agreed to meet with me. I hope Edmund was respectful and fittingly apologetic for his part." Y/N nodded, the corner of her mouth quirked up as if trying to contain a smile. "He was, i've never seen him do anything but preen and look obnoxious. I would say it made a welcome change if I could, but it was almost disturbing." Aeron laughed at her wit, the sound and feel of laughter almost foreign to him now, and he rejoiced that she should feel comfortable enough to jest with him. "I wished to tell you of my meeting with Benjicot Blackwood." Y/N eyes immediately perked up attentively at that, eager to hear his news as she leaned her back against the trunk of the Bracken tree. "He was amenable to my suggestions for brokering peace between our Houses and was generous in his offer to dispense with the boundary lines. You were right that my cousin had a secret love, it was Benjicot all along. He seemed willing to go to any lengths to ensure she would not be torn between our two Houses and so I could not have hoped for a better outcome."

He took some tentative steps towards Y/N, and when she did not startle or attempt to move from her position, he walked to stand directly in front of her. His voice came out soft and distant even to him as he became lost in gazing at her. He had not been able to gaze upon the woman he loved for such a painfully long period of time and drank in each detail of her appearance now, in the fear that she would not allow him to see her again. Pulling his focus back to her eyes he was startled to find that her eyes seemed to be flitting across his features in the same manner, and he felt his own heart stutter at the thought of her missing him too. "All that is left is for me to convince my uncle to agree to Benjicot's terms, and reaffirm my refusal to the marriage with Roslyn Tully." Y/N nodded but still looked to him unsure. "And you think you can convince him on both those matters?" Aeron's expression turned resolute, his gaze focused on her eyes "I am certain of it because there is no other option for me. I have only ever loved one girl my whole life and I will marry no other, whatever the consequences."

Y/N raised her hand to hold onto the sleeve of his tunic, pulling him towards her slightly, before looking back up to him with her own determined stare. "I must ask you to understand how betrayed I have felt, how much your actions hurt me, and that it is difficult for me to trust you now. But I love you, you know this already and there is no use in denying it." Aeron tentatively raised his own hand to lightly graze her ribcage with his knuckles, a barely there touch that still conveyed his affection for her. He did not try to interrupt her as she continued. "If you make me your solemn promise never to deceive me again, and to keep your word with regards to your intentions, I will endeavour to forgive you and hope that in time my trust in you can be restored to what it was."

Aeron smiled tenderly at her, her words so welcome to his ears. He pulled a small package from his tunic, unwrapping it to reveal a golden broach to her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the golden stallion atop the clasp, the symbol of House Bracken. "I wish for you to take this small token as an assurance that I mean what I say, in my eyes you are already the future Lady Bracken, should you permit it." Y/N tentatively took the broach from him, finding herself genuinely moved by his heartfelt attempt to show her his true intentions. She looked back up at him with a gentle smile "Thank you, Aeron."

Lost in his feeling of elation at her acceptance of his small gift, he took a step closer to her as if to embrace her and she planted a hand firmly on his chest to stop him. Aeron instantly halted his movements as his head dropped and he took a step back. "Aeron, I do not wish to open my heart to any more dissapointment. I ask that you keep your distance oncemore. You may come to me only when you have your uncle's express consent to break off your betrothal to Lady Roslyn, only when you are free to marry who you wish." Aeron's expression turned pained, but he understood his Lady's reasoning. "As you wish it, my love." Y/N briefly raised her hand as if to touch him before seeming to think better of it, lowering it back down to her side. "Farewell then Aeron." Her eyes glistened slightly as she strode quickly away from him. Aeron stayed rooted to the spot, watching Y/N walk away from him until she passed over the hill that lead to her home and he could no longer see her.

Lord Amos Bracken was furious at first to learn of his nephew's meeting with Benjicot Blackwood and the pact they had made. To know that Aeron had acted on behalf of House Bracken without his consent. He refused to speak with his nephew for three days in his anger, despite Aeron's constant attempts to catch him as he left his council room or left his chambers to break his fast. By the third day, Aeron had had enough. His uncle's stalling was just extending the length of time before he could see Y/N again and so on the third day he boldly strode into his uncle's council as it was in session. "Uncle I will speak with you, should you permit it or not. I ask you now to decide whether I will do so in front of your council members or not."

His uncle gaped at Aeron's audacity before signalling for his council to depart with a wave of his hand. As soon as the room was vacated and the door shut, Aeron began before his uncle could forestall him further. "Uncle the pact Ser  Benjicot Blackwood and I have brokered will mean peace throughout the Riverlands. There will be no more cause for violence at the border, indeed we will need no border at all and can pass peacefully between Blackwood and Bracken lands. You reject it out of spite alone. Will you not see what lies before you? We assure our own destruction if you will not be swayed." Lord Amos merely glared at Aeron, saying nothing and Aeron threw his hands up in frustration before stalking from the chamber, leaving the door to swing harshly against the wall. However, Lord Amos had begun to consider Aeron's words, unbeknownst to his nephew.

The next day Aeron took a different approach and when he sought an audience with his uncle again, it was with Lady Roslyn beside him. "Uncle, I entreat you to consider the benefits of an accord between our House and House Blackwood. There is no need for us to tear the Riverlands apart for Targaryen overlords who have no care for us. I will not marry Lady Roslyn, nor does she have any desire to marry me and she has kindly accompanied me to tell you as much. It is Y/N I love and it is her alone I will pledge myself too. You can either except this absolute with or without the peace pact I have secured." Aeron was out of breath by the time he had finished his tirade but his persistence had been worth it. Lord Amos finally acceded the sagacity of a pact between Blackwoods and Brackens, particularly when the Riverlands were threatened by all out warfare and destruction by dragon fire. Together, the Houses of the Riverlands would stand strong. And at last, he consented to dissolve Aeron's betrothal to the Lady Roslyn, much to her own relief. Aeron was pleasant enough but her tastes lay elsewhere, she had already found love with her handmaiden. She laughed as Aeron ran from the hall the second they were dismissed, having no doubt of where he was headed.

Y/N was almost ashamed to find herself yet again sat in the windowsill of her father's home, that gave her a direct view of Bracken Hall. She knew that it was at her request that Aeron stayed away. She had not thought she could bear his closeness while still uncertain whether she would be able to marry him. It did not matter that he'd all but promised himself to her, not until Lord Bracken rescinded his betrothal to Roslyn Tully. The Blackwood heir's ready acceptance to peace terms had filled her with hope, but she was no fool and would not allow herself to be placed in a precarious position again as she had been when Aeron's betrothal had first been announced.

And yet she had almost convinced herself she could see Aeron walking the path that led to her home, as she had often imagined. Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised she was not imagining anything, that was Aeron making his way across the field which led to her home. He was far off in the distance but she could recognise his silhouette anywhere. Y/N knew that if he had come to her that could only mean one thing, that all her hopes were coming to fruition. She slid off the window sill, picking up her skirts and beginning to run. It was a difficult task with nerves racking her entire body, but she felt an inexplicable pull forcing her legs to move faster as she ran to meet Aeron.

He did not spot her at first, seemingly preoccupied with staring at his boots, a bouquet of baby's breath flowers swinging from one of his hands. But when he did his face lit up in a smile that was pure sunshine to Y/N, full of warmth, which only made her run that much faster. Aeron opened his arms to meet her as she practically flew into him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him in an embrace that lifted her feet of the ground. He held her aloft and against him for a long while, his face pressed against her hair, breathing in the smell of her perfume, before he slowly slid her back down to the ground. He kept his arms firmly encircled around her waist nonetheless, as if frightened she would dissapear, though she had no intention of leaving his arms anytime soon.

Still out of breath from her exertions, she spoke in between pants. "It is settled then? I am to be your wife?" She watched a soft emotion crossed Aeron's eyes. Removing his hands from her waist and taking a step back from her, which had Y/N inwardly panicking that she had misunderstood the situation entirely, he suddenly knelt before her on one knee. She blushed as she realised what he was doing. Taking both her hands in his, he looked up at her reverentially as if she were a goddess and he her humble worshipper. "I will make no great speeches now my love, for I hope there will be plenty of time for that in the days and years that follow. I know that I tarried too long in expressing this, my most earnest and longheld desire, that you should become my wife, so I will waste no more time. I offer myself to you as your husband, as one who loves you and wants nothing more than to cherish you for the rest of our lives."

Y/N could hardly speak through the all-consuming joy she felt but squeezed his hands and managed out a breathy "yes." Aeron was on his feet in an instant, oncemore lifting her off the ground and spinning her as they both laughed. Setting her back down, he slowly brought his hands to either side of her face, before pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes, as if trying to convey the love he felt for her with this touch. He brushed his lips against hers, whispering against them "I can no longer be a raven", seemingly referring to that pained period when the only connection he could have with his beloved was the daily letters he sent by raven. With that he closed the distance and captured her lips with his. Y/N pulled away from him after a few moments, fixing Aeron with a stern gaze. "Don't you ever do something so stupid again, do you understand me?" Aeron gulped down a swallow before responding "Of course my love, it was a terrible thing and I am sorry for it. I will spend a lifetime trying to make up for it." Y/N considered this and nodded, placing her head on his chest. Only a second later she abruptly pushed him away from her, seemingly not finished with scolding him for his previous misteps as she poked him in the chest with her index finger. "And don't think that you can just get away with..." Aeron quickly cut her off, pulling her back to him by her waist and crashing his lips to hers. Y/N found she did not care about his rude interruption, simply opening her palm to lay it flat against his chest and entangling her other hand in his hair. She felt him smile against her lips as she did so.

Aeron did not think he had ever been so nervous in his life as he stood at the altar of the Sept at Bracken Hall, waiting for Y/N. His feelings had clearly mapped their way onto his expression and Samwell lightly elbowed him in the ribs as he stood at his side. "Worried she's going to jilt you? Can't blame you, she was always too good for you." When Aeron shot him a look of utter panic at what he'd intended as a joke Sam relented and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Stop worrying. Y/N loves you, it may be misguided philanthropy on her part but it's true nonetheless. She'll be here." Aeron nodded and faced back towards the door.

He was glad of it as within moments Y/N appeared on her father's arm. Aeron's face broke into a smile at the sight of her. She had never looked so beautiful to him than she did now in her wedding dress of cream and gold, symbolising her affinity with his House. He had to remember to keep his breathing even as she walked towards him, but his nerves disappeared altogether when she removed herself from her father's arm to take his hand instead. He could barely contain his joy as they spoke their vows, realising that he could finally call Y/N his wife.

𝕰𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

As the great Houses of the Riverlands came together as one to support Rhaenyra's claim, the war was quickly won in the true Queen's favour. A period of peace and prosperity was brought forth such that the Riverlands had never seen in living memory, the pact between House Blackwood and House Bracken cemented in treaties and in blood with the marriage of the Lord of Raventree, Benjicot Blackwood, to Aeron Bracken's cousin.

Aeron felt sure he'd checked everywhere for his favourite riding gloves, having turned his chambers inside out to find them. He was certain his Lady Wife would not be best pleased at the mess but he urgently needed his gloves for the tourney his uncle was holding on the morrow. He had neither the time nor the patience to restore everything back to its rightful place as he searched, leaving behind him a wake of destruction. A gentle cough behind him signalled the arrival of the very lady he'd been  thinking of and he turned to her with a sheepish smile. "I must apologise, my love. I assure you I will set everything back to rights, I just cannot seem to find my gloves anywhere." Y/N nodded, smoothing her skirts down and beginning to open up a cabinet he'd not yet checked. "I think it best we find the gloves first before we attempt to put anything back in order. I don't trust you not to mess it up again otherwise." She sent him a look that was half stern, half teasing. "Right you are of course, my darling." He smiled at her sweet nature as she joined him in looking for his missing gloves.

Opening a drawer in the bottom shelf of a dresser his hands grazed some crumpled parchment, and he pulled out a wad of letters tied together with lilac ribbon. As he continued to look at them he realised they were in fact his letters, or rather the ones he had written to Y/N in the weeks following that disastrous banquet, when she had refused to speak to him at all. He had imagined she'd thrown every letter out in her anger with him, it warmed his heart to know she'd kept them like precious treasures. They were crumpled and clearly well-read, as if she had gone back to them time and time again. Suspicious of her husband's silence, Y/N turned and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw. Quickly running over to him she made a grab for the letters but Aeron pulled them out of her reach. Her face was flushed with embarrassment but Aeron could not see why.

"You kept my letters?" Hearing the tenderness in his tone as his eyes softened, she realised he did not mean to mock her for her sentimentality.

"They were beautiful letters."

"I thought you had hated each one, though I could not find it in myself to stop writing. Those letters felt like the only thing tethering me to you at one point."

Y/N reached up to stroked Aeron's cheek. "I cannot tell you what those words meant to me. I read them over and over, they were the only thing that made me certain you did in fact love me. I cherish them and read them often even now."

Aeron took her hand from his face to place a kiss on her palm at her admission. "Perhaps I should write more love letters, then, if it would please my Lady Wife." Aeron smirked cockily at her. She swatted his chest, "Don't get too arrogant now, it doesn't suit you husband. I should be glad to receive your notes though if you deign to write them."

Aeron pulled her to him, his chin resting atop her head. "I shall dedicate hours to them each day. Nothing shall take precedence." Aeron jested. He did so love to hear his wife laugh.

As the morning of the tourney loomed, Aeron attempted with little success to put on his armour without the help of his bastardly squire, who'd gotten too deep into his cups at the opening feast the night prior. As he struggled to attach his pauldron to his breastplate he heard the shift of fabric as the flap of his tent was pulled up and his Lady Wife entered. "Husband, I can hear you clanging about with your armour from outside. Let me help you." She removed his hands from where he'd been fumbling with clasps as she deftly began to attach each piece with more patience and skill than he had done. He felt his heartbeat race, as she brushed her hands across his shoulders to survey her handy work. Though they were now married and he could barely feel her touch through the armour, she was ever able to have such an affect on him.

Handing him his gauntlet she nodded, seemingly satisfied with her work. "You are presentable, now make me proud." Aeron let out a hearty laugh, pulling his beloved wife to him with one arm wrapped around her waist as she braced her hands against his chest from the momentum. He leaned down and lightly brushed his nose against hers. "I shall win every tournament  which I compete in if it should please my Lady, and if she consent to give me her favour." Quickly pecking him on the lips Y/N affectionately patted Aeron on the cheek before pulling away. "None of that my Good Knight. You can get a kiss when you win your tournaments."

As Aeron reluctantly released her, a playful look lit her eyes and she made a grab for his sword. "You should teach me how to use this Aeron, it might come in handy when your cousin Edmund is being particularly reprehensible." Lifting it she attempted to swing it in an arch but stumbled under the weight of it, not having taken that into account. Aeron's eyes widened in concern for her safety as it swung wildly out of her grip in the direction of the tent entrance, only for Samwell to pop his head through the flap. The sword just barely missed his head as his eyes widened comically in shock. Y/N quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment and fear of what she had almost done. Seeming to recover his wits, Samwell turned his head in Aeron's direction. "I dare say my good man your Lady Wife almost decapitated me. What have you done to make her so angry she should swing your own sword at you."

Y/N took a step towards him, frantically uttering her apologies. "I'm so terribly sorry Samwell, I was being silly and messing about with it."

Samwell did not wish to embarass his friend's wife and so shrugged it off. "No worries my Lady, if I were bound to that oaf over there for the rest of my days I'd also have swung a sword at him by now." Aeron rolled his eyes at Samwell and wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders, rubbing his hand down her arm comfortingly. "I'll not have you undermining my Lady's swordsmanship Samwell. The blow was clearly well aimed and meant for you. I'm immensely proud." Y/N's embarrassment had begun to fade as the two men continued to jest and volley insults at one another, but she resolutely decided she would in fact ask Aeron to teach her to handle a sword in future to avoid any recurrences. With a soft kiss to the crown of her head, Aeron departed for the joust and Y/N made for the stands to cheer on her husband. She positioned herself close to the balcony railings of Lord Bracken's box so Aeron would be able to see her and ask for her favour. She well knew he had kept the first lilac favour she'd ever given him tied to his swordbelt, and yet she still knew he would ask it of her. She believed that to him it was his way of expressing to her what they'd both always known since they were children, that he was her Good Knight and she his Lady.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @alexandracgg @rvllybllply2014 @nyrasnation @shemisseshome @margoniezniez @im-gonna-love-you-forever

[innerfare]

Sabo Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of headcanons about being in a relationship with Flame Emperor Sabo

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Why do I see this man falling for a member of Cipher Pol. He hates you, despises everything you stand for, thinks you're weak and selfish for not turning your back on the World Government the way he did as a child, even thinks you're despicable for using your power to aid the World Government in maintaining the status quo (even if you're secretly working against it), and he’s so attracted to you it pains him. It makes him sick. But he can’t stop. 

He’ll secretly pine for months, only making a move on you when a scenario arises that forces it. 

Enemies to lovers for sure, you working as a spy for the Revolutionary Army, Sabo hating your guts but disobeying Dragon and going to save you when you get found out; he’s not sure why he does it until he finds you, and the first thing he does is take your face in his hands and kiss you. You eventually end up fighting for the Army full time after that, attached at the hip to the Chief of Staff, who insists it’s your power that makes him keep you close and not his enduring affection for you. 

Super protective and even possessive, to the point Dragon and other high-ranking members of the Army are worried that you’re a liability for their Chief of Staff. His sadistic side is much more likely to make an appearance in a fight if you’re present, and he once snarled at Hack for accidentally bumping into you. He quickly apologized, but everyone in the Army is now extra careful around you (except for Koala, who has no problem telling Sabo to get a grip when he’s being too possessive and has definitely smacked him for this behavior). 

He always has your Vivre Card on him and, despite being notorious for not answering the transponder snail/hanging up mid-conversation, he gives you a special, mini transponder snail that he will always answer no matter what; he could be tied up and in the middle of being interrogated and he’d find a way to answer that damn snail. He goes to great pains to secure a white den den mushi so your calls will not be intercepted, thus not putting you in any danger for your association with him. 

He also likes to call you on the transponder snail in the late hours of the night just to talk, and you’re always the one who has to hang up because he doesn’t want to let you go. Things don’t roll off of him as easily as he makes it seem. He has a lot of trauma to work through and a lot of stress about his job and brothers and you’re his sounding board for all of that. You’re also the person who will give him a pity laugh for the joke he told at dinner that Koala said wasn’t funny, and you read the same comics he does, so that’s two more reasons to call you. 

Despite his protective nature, he won’t coddle you. He’ll make fun of you and expect you to do the same to him, your relationship practically built on your ability to roast and taunt one another (again, it was probably enemies to lovers; Sabo thrives on obstacles). He’ll challenge you to all sorts of competitions, always looking to one-up you. Can be a bit of a sore winner and sore loser, definitely expects a condolence prize if he loses or reward if he wins, both in the form of kisses. 

Loves manhandling you. He picks you up and swings you around, throws you over his shoulder, and (like his brother, Ace) enjoys roughhousing, though it often ends in him cradling you in his arms. Very forward with touching you in that he’ll move you where he wants you, pull you around at his leisure, etc. 

Is almost always the big spoon. He really loves wrapping you in his arms, pulling you with him when he rolls over in bed, etc. 

Picnics in the flower fields of Momoiro Island, Sabo working on his manuscript while you nap, or you reading a book while he nuzzles into your lap. 

Melts and gives you a goofy grin if you wear his hat. 

Eager to teach you the art of fighting with a lead pipe. 

Can roast meat over an open flame and even make a pot of stew, but his ability to cook always breaks down when he enters a real kitchen (consequences of a childhood spent in the woods). He tried once to impress you and ended up setting the kitchen on fire. Now the entire Army is making jokes about the pampered aristocrat who’d never set foot in a kitchen before. You told everyone to leave him alone and reminded them he could cook over a campfire, so in a way, it worked out if it had you standing up for him. 

Loves it when you call him big, strong, tough, etc. If you comment on how large his hands are, how broad his shoulders are, how strong his arms are, how tough his hide is, he’ll get all riled up. Puffs his chest up when you call him big boy, your man, daddy. The fact that you’re so strong, capable, and even outright powerful but rely on him to watch your back and keep you safe while you sleep makes him so proud. Takes his job very seriously. Calls you his sweet girl, his babygirl, his pretty girl, his girl.

Also loves it when you call him all manner of silly pet names (in private, of course, don't embarrass him in front of his men). His awakening in regards to this came when he met Ivankov for the first time, who calls honey pie.

When he returns from missions, he brings you a bouquet of calla lilies or peonies (usually the former). Flowers were an integral part of his seduction game. He also bought you a cherry blossom bonsai tree to keep on your bedside table so you can have flowers from him even when he’s not there to give them to you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[sapphickorro]

All Mine´ˎ˗

Pairing(s) - g!p knight!Natasha Romanoff x princess!Reader

summary: After getting betrothed to a princess, your love for your knight still lingers.

warnings: angst, angst with comfort, happy ending, 18+, girl penis Natasha, oral sex (r receiving), vaginal sex, p in v, unprotected sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, top Natasha, bottom Reader, arranged marriage

word count: 3,209

A/N: Excuse me if there’s any typos, I proofread to the best of my abilities. Also, medieval knight Natasha brainrott. 

ao3 - masterlist

You’re in the middle of applying lotion onto your legs when you hear a faint knock on your door. 

“Come in.” You presume it was one of your maids coming in to give you something your father had sent. 

The door opens, bright locks of red hair peeking through. You stand up from the edge of your bed, “Nat?” You ask.

Your suspicions were proven correct when Natasha’s full body reveals itself from behind the door. You gasp, running towards her with your arms out. She smiles at your enthusiasm, laughing as she closes the door behind her. She holds her arms out for you embracing you in a giant hug, her arms on your waist lift you up into the air with your arms screwed tightly around her neck. 

“I was only gone for a week, princess.” She drops you back onto the floor, still not letting go of your hold. “It was the longest week of my life.” You whisper up at her, tiptoeing to plant a kiss on her lips. She kisses back so tenderly it makes your heart swell up. 

You step back to take a look at her full body, she’s in a tank top and shorts, her strong muscles out on display for you to gawk at. Your gaze drew onto the cuts and bruises littering her skin, her face was still bloodied, open cuts above her eyebrows and on her cheeks. 

“Did you not see the medic before coming here?” You furrow your eyes, stepping away to grab your first aid kit by your bedside table. “I didn’t see a need to.” You sigh walking over to grab her hand. You drag her onto your bed, pushing her down on the edge. You sit next to her, opening the first aid kit.

“What have I told you about letting your team do the work rather than rushing in and getting yourself hurt?” She chuckles at your concern, her face warming up at the sight of your distress over her. 

You use a towel to wipe off all the dirt and blood before applying alcohol to cleanse the wound. Natasha hisses at the contact of the alcohol filled gauze on her skin. “Quit it.” Your voice is stern. “What? It hurts.” 

“No, I meant to quit risking your life out there.” You mutter out at her, avoiding looking at her eyes. 

“If I had to fight a thousand more dragons and goblins to protect you, so be it. That’s a thousand more before seeing you safe.” She takes your free hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. 

“You’re such a flirt, you know?” You roll your eyes blushing at her. 

“What? I’m serious.” You smile at her, lowering your hand to cup her cheek before capturing her lips. She eagerly reciprocates, placing her hands onto your hips. 

You lean on your back, allowing Natasha to lean over you. She whispers on your lips “I’m too sore in my body, let me pleasure you tonight.” You nod, whispering out an, “Okay.” 

Natasha peppers kisses over your body, going from your shoulders to your thighs. The bottom of your white lace nightgown gets pushed to your stomach as Natasha eyes your white underwear hungrily. 

“God, I can’t wait to worship this pretty pussy.” She slowly slips off the panties from your legs. You lift your hips to help her pull them off. She teases you more by spending more time marking your thighs. 

“Nattttt,” you whine out, “I need you.” Your chest raises to look down at her, your elbows supporting your upper body. Natasha decides not to tease you any further and swoops in, licking a long stripe over your pussy. 

You moan out, tilting your head to face the ceiling. Natasha’s hands come up to raise your legs over her shoulder. “Look at me while I eat you out princess.” She says, raising her head to look at you. Your head drops back to look at her, staring at her lust filled eyes. Her eyelids hooded and green eyes piercing your soul. She prods a finger in your hole before slipping it in. 

“Your pussy swallowed my finger up, are you that needy for me?” She chuckles, lowering her head back down onto your bud, peppering kisses as she slowly slips her finger in and out of you. 

“Faster, please.” You whimper at her slow pace. She slips a second finger in and starts to move her hand back and forth faster. Her tongue moves more rapidly against your clit. Your moans get louder, filling up the quiet room. You’re thankful that your bedroom is on a separate floor from everyone else, otherwise you would’ve been more embarrassed about the unfiltered noises escaping your mouth. 

Your eyes are still focused on Natasha’s. Your breaths come out heavy and your fingers clench together, forming a fist. Natasha can tell that you’re close, her finger starts pounding into you. She curls her digits into you after every thrust, hitting your g-spot every time. You feel the pressure building up, “Natty, g-na cum.” 

“Cum for me, let me taste all of you.” She mutters onto your clit, sending vibrations through your body. You fall apart orgasming with her name slipping out of your mouth.

Natasha slows her pace, guiding you through your orgasm before slipping out. Your elbows give out, dropping you onto your back, your head hitting your pillows. Natasha pops her fingers into her mouth before sucking them off with a moan. “You taste, divine.” 

You smile at her, “Didn’t know you knew so many big words. Thought they’d all fly out of your head with the way you get your ass beat by goblins.” You giggled at her offended expression, she dropped her body weight onto you making you squeal. “I know lots of words.” 

When the two of you settled down and got ready for bed, her arm rested on your waist, spooning you from behind. The silence is peaceful – welcomed. 

“My dad wants me to get married.” You whisper out into the dark room, unsure if Natasha was still awake. “He’s betrothing me to Princess Kate of the Bishops.” You add.

 For a while, she doesn’t answer, making you think she went to sleep. “When?” You hear her voice from behind you. It’s soft and you can tell she’s hurt by your announcement. 

“Sometime during this week.” You feel her arms tighten around you. “Why didn’t I know any of this?” 

“Because you just came back from being gone all week.” Natasha doesn’t respond, opting to place her head in the crook of your neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around you. You know she’s upset. 

That night, the two of you are unable to sleep, knowing that these might be the last nights the two of you spend together. 

The day of your wedding finally rolls around. You were arranged to meet Kate just hours before the ceremony began to get to know her. A carriage carrying your father and Natasha ride you towards their kingdom. 

You’re sat next to your father with Natasha across from you. She’s in her knight attire, making her look larger than she already is. The two of you don’t look at each other the whole ride, scared that one of you might break and say something unruly in front of the king. 

When the carriage stops, the door opens revealing another knight holding his hands out for you. You accept graciously, walking out with Natasha and your dad following behind. 

“Princess Y/N! Welcome!” You turn your head towards the voice, you notice the queen walking towards you with her daughter following suit. 

“Your highness, it's a pleasure to meet you.” You curtsy your dress, saying the lines that your father fed you on the carriage. She laughs softly, “Oh please, call me Eleanor.”

Your dad and her start a menial conversation when you’re pulled to the side by Kate. “You are more gorgeous than my mother painted you out to be.” She bows, taking a hand in her own, leaving a soft kiss on the back of it. It’s soft but doesn’t leave the same flame that Natasha sparks when she kisses your hands. 

“I wonder how she described me then,” you grin at her. “She said you were the fairest maiden I’d ever see. To me, you’re more of an angel who’s cast their wings down onto Earth.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Natasha grimacing at Kate’s unabashed flirting. 

“I see you two are getting along quite well.” Your father says, interrupting the two of you. Kate turns her head, “I know that we were arranged, but I can tell that I’m already falling madly for your daughter, your highness.” Kate says, smiling at your father. 

You could tell that Kate was a flirt, a people pleaser perhaps. You were flattered by the things she said, you just wished that they came out the mouth of Natasha instead. 

They guided you into their Castle, their servants and maids grabbing all of your luggage while your knights stayed close behind. You are led by Eleanor to a fitting room, maids already lined up in there ready for you. “Your wedding begins in a few hours, let’s get the brides ready shall we?” Your dad eagerly nods in response to Eleanor. 

You are pushed inside, Natasha tries to follow but is stopped. “I need someone strong like you to help me set up the chairs.” Eleanor plants a hand on Natasha’s armored shoulder. The door closes in front of you before you can say bye. The maids usher you down onto a seat, pulling out dresses for you to pick from. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, you admit that you look stunning. Your hair is loose and curled. Your sheer floral dress accentuates your body. Your breasts are pushed up, making the soft innocent dress have a tint of sexiness to it. The dress drags over the floor with a large train, having the maids carry it behind you as you walk out. The veil on your head suddenly feels heavier as you walk closer to the doors that lead to your ceremony.

When the doors open, all eyes turn towards you yet your eyes land on one person only. Natasha’s standing next to the spot you’d stand at as your personal guard. You notice the tears in her eyes, her stoic expression maintains as to not show any emotion but you see through her facade. When you finally reach the head of the altar, your eyes glaze over Kate’s body. She’s in an all black suit, her hair’s tied up in the back with curls flowing down from her curtain bangs. 

She smiles at you gently reaching her hands out to grab yours, you reciprocate her smile, holding onto her hands. 

At the end of the wedding ceremony, everyone heads back to their sleeping quarters. The moon starts to show through the sky. You undressed into your lace nightgown, Kate’s in her sweatpants and tank top. The two of you sit on the bed, neither of you speaking or looking at each other. Kate breaks the silence, “Do you love her?”

“Who?” You turn your head towards Kate. She’s looking down at the bed fidgeting with her hands. 

“Your knight, what was her name again?” She looks up to meet your gaze. “Natasha? No way, that’s ridiculous.” You fake laugh at her, pretending to be against that idea. 

“You can be honest around me. I’m not mean like those other princes and princesses. I won’t put it against you if you do.” Your expression drops, realizing she caught on. You nod solemnly in confirmation, adverting your eyes to not meet her gaze. “I could tell. She was the only one that looked away during the nuptials – and, from the longing gazes the two of you sent to each other during dinner.”  

“I’m sorry.” Your hands fidget on the blanket now.  “Don’t be, I understand that her love came before mine.” 

The two of you don’t speak, your head’s turned in shame from admitting your feelings for you knight to your now wife. “So I assume we won’t be consummating the marriage?” She tries to joke.

“W-well, I’ll do whatever I must…” You dreaded the thought of consummating the marriage with someone other than Natasha. You knew that you’d have to do it if Kate wanted to though, you were born with the task of bringing an heir to the bloodline. 

“If your heart isn’t in the right place, nor is your body. You should go down the hall to the first door on your right, Natasha should be there.” Your eyes widened at her, shocked. “Why would you let me see her?”

“My mother and father never had a good relationship, they too were in an arranged marriage. I’d rather see you with another woman than for us to resent each other.” Her sad smile causes you to lean in to give her a hug. 

“Thank you.” You whisper out, a genuine smile making its way onto your face. You notice her smile gets larger at the sight of yours. You run out the room, sneaking down the hall to Natasha’s room. 

“Who’s there.” You jump at Natasha’s raspy voice in the dark room, her hands placed in front of her ready to fight. She lowers her hands when she catches a glance of your face shone by the moonlight. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here? If Kate finds you-” You cut her off, “Kate knows.” 

“Knows what?” She urges you to expand. “Knows about our relationship.”

“What? Is she furious? Did she send you here to break it off with me?” Natasha rambles. ”No, none of that.”

“She said that she's okay with me seeing you, she was the one that told me which room you were in.” Your hands find their way to Natasha’s shoulders, soothing them as they relax from being so tense. “Why would she do that? Isn’t she madly in love with you?” 

“Well, she’d rather me happy and in love than upset in despair.” 

“Maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought she was.” She smiles at you before catching what you said, “Wait, you love me?” You roll your eyes at her. 

“Of course I do.” You lean up to plant a kiss on her lips. Natasha furthers the kiss by slipping a tongue in your mouth. You let her in your mouth without a fight. She walks you back towards her bed, the heated makeout session pausing to push you down onto the mattress. You sit up, running your hands over her muscles. 

She pulls her tank top off from her chest revealing her breasts. “You’re so hot.” You plant kisses over her chest, giving hickies you know she’d wake up to the next morning. 

“Lay on your back.” She pushes you down on your back, her hands grope your body through your nightgown. Her lips press down onto your lips again. She kisses you fervently as if she hadn’t seen you in years. 

“You looked so sexy in that wedding dress. Did you wear it for me?” You moaned out a, “Yes,” as her hands started traveling down your gown, tugging it over your head. The cool air hits your nipples, hardening them. 

Her hands cup your breasts, groping them roughly as her lips bite and mark your collarbone. Her tongue travels down to circle over your nipples. You’ve never seen Natasha so possessive. You’re embarrassed to say that it turns you on even more. 

Natasha pulls her hands away to slip off her boxers, her hardened cock stills in the air. 

“I need to be in you so bad princess, want me in you?” She strokes her cock, your pussy is drenched from the sight of its length. “Please, I need you in me Natty.” 

She slides off your underwear, placing it into her fist and stroking the wet spot over her cock. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet.” She tosses the underwear over her side before lining the tip over your pussy. Her hands push your thighs apart from each other, placing your legs over her thighs. She slowly starts to insert the tip into your hole, already stretching you out with just the tip. 

“Your pussy’s so tight.” Your hands hold onto her shoulders, gripping them. 

“Too big.” You whimper, feeling her cock slowly enter through you.

“I know princess, I promise it’ll feel good.” She soothes you by peppering kisses over your cheeks. Her strong hands hold onto your waist. When she finally bottoms out, she stills inside of you, waiting for your approval to move. You take a deep breath nodding towards her. 

She starts to rock her hips back and forth, her length sliding in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck, you feel so good princess.” She’s grunting at every thrust, her eyes staring into yours making you shy away from her. 

One of her hands reaches under your chin to tilt your head back to look at her. Your eyes meet her possessive gaze. Your mouth opens as tiny whimpers fall out. 

Natasha starts to speed up her pace, her length hitting your cervix every time. “Daddy, you’re so big!” Your eyes clenched shut as pleasure courses through you. “You need daddy’s cock?” She grunts her hips bucking into you at full speed. The bed creaks along her rapid movements. 

“Yes, need daddy’s cock so bad.” You whimper, your arms come around to wrap over her neck, pulling her in closer. 

“This pussy’s all mine, no one else's. Isn’t that right?” Your moans come out almost pornographic. They echo throughout the empty room, not caring if anyone else can hear the illicit noises coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, I’m yours. All yours.” Your back arches with your head pressing further into the pillow. 

“Gonna cum with me baby?” She asks, rubbing your clit with her thumb sending further shocks down your pussy. “Yes, pump your cum into me daddy.” You whimper.

“Gonna get you all round and full, give you an heir. Want that from daddy?” You nod fervently. Moans spilling out in place of words. You feel Natasha pause her movements as a rush of liquid enters your body. Your orgasm follows after, your thighs clenching tightly onto her waist. Your moans are synced up with Natasha’s moans. She places her head into the crook of your neck, slowly pumping her hips more to ensure all her cum enters you. 

“All mine.” She whispers onto your skin before pulling out. She leans back to admire the white liquid spilling out of you before scooping it back into you with her fingers. She chuckles at your blissed out face, dropping kisses onto your forehead before grabbing her discarded tank top to wipe the sweat off your face.  

She drops back down onto the bed next to you, hugging your face onto her chest and pulling the blankets over your bodies. “I love you.” You whisper into her chest. 

She smiles, wrapping your hands behind your back and entangling your legs together, “I love you more, princess.”  

[bullet-prooflove]

Final Words: Kayce Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @midnightheat @queenslandlover-93 @littledreamer9211 @spooky-librarian-ghost @atomic-art-dragon @sleepystoner326 @themarvelousmaks

Nobody talks about the year that Lee went missing.

Kayce doesn’t even know about it until he finds the stack of journals tucked away underneath a broken floorboard he’s trying to fix. The damn thing has been creaking ever since he moved into this place and it’s starting to drive him just a little crazy. When he pulls up the panel he doesn’t expect to see the collection of black Moleskine notebooks, each one thick with dust. It’s when he pulls out the first one and starts flicking through the yellowed pages that he realises that they belong to his deceased brother. He had no idea that Lee kept a journal, that he had since he was sixteen years old.

He spends the next couple of hours sat in front of the fire with a glass of bourbon, reading through them in chronological order. The first one is about normal school shit, he describes the pretty girl who sits in front of him in Lit, how she lent him a pen when he forgot his own. They end up being partners in Biology and over the next few months Kayce reads about how his brother falls in love with Anna-May, how he promised to marry her one day.

It's insight into his brother he had absolutely no clue about. There’s was ten year age gap between him and Lee. Whilst he was secretly applying to colleges, Kayce was ten years old making up songs about each of the horses in the stables, trying to figure out what words rhymed with sugarcube.

It all turns to shit when Lee announces he’s going to Berkley. He details the conversation between him and their father, the refusal to pay the tuition. Lee couldn’t apply for financial aid because of their circumstances so his dream was dead in the water before it even had a chance to get off the ground. He helps Anna-May pack her things and sends her off to California alone while he takes his rightful place at the Yellowstone.

It’s for the best, he writes, it’s not fair to put the burden of the ranch on Jamie and Kayce.

It’s a six months later that their mom dies in a riding accident and Lee accidently causes a wildfire that takes out a couple of pastures on the Eastern side of the farm.

I can’t stand this numbness anymore, it feels like I can barely breathe anymore. I need to see her.

He takes off to California a week later, in a truck stolen from the ranch. He drives it all the way up to Berkley, where he wants for Anna-May outside of her dorm. When she finally lays eyes on her, he doesn’t get out of the truck because she’s with another man, his arm slung over her shoulders as he whispers sweet nothings in her ear.

I told her to move on, Lee writes. I just didn’t realise how much it would hurt when she did.

He doesn’t come home after that, he spends the next year travelling from state to state, picking up seasonal work, he’s been in Maine for three months, chopping wood when his father finally catches up with him.

In that moment I realised there was nothing for me but that ranch, my future had been set in stone from the minute I was born, what was the point in trying to fight it anymore?

It breaks Kayce’s heart because he can feel Lee’s exhaustion emanating through the pages. His brother takes the brand that night as punishment for abandoning his responsibilities. The acknowledgement of his failure is seared upon his skin, the same way it had been upon Kayce’s.

It’s three in the morning when he finally gets to the last one, the mood starts to shift, the tone changing. Anna-May had stepped back into Lee’s life and it was like his entire world had erupted into colour again, it’s only then that Kayce realises how depressed his brother had been throughout the years. He’d hidden it well on the surface but the reality of it is etched into each of these journals.

It's when he gets to the final pages of the one he’s reading that the sonogram falls out into Kayce’s lap, his breath catches in his throat as his gaze lingers on the last few words that Lee ever wrote.

 It’s become clearer over the past couple of days that we can’t stay here at the ranch. I see the way that my father is with Tate and I know he’s already being prepared for a role he has no awareness of. I don’t want that for my son, I don’t want that for Kayce’s son. I want them both to have the choices we didn’t, to live the way they want, to be the people they want to be.

It's then that Kayce sees the truth about Lee, the weight that sat on his shoulders, day in and day out, suffocating him. It’s the same one that sits on his own because Kayce, he thought this is what Lee would have wanted, someone to take up the role, to fulfil that legacy. He’s been killing himself to trying to honor a dead man’s wishes only to discover those weren’t his wishes at all, they were those of his father, the man that’s currently grooming his son to be the next in line for the throne.

It's that night that Kayce packs his bags.

He’s leaving Yellowstone and he’s taking his son with him.

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