#ellyn lannister

[anira-naeg]

[thaliajoy-blog]

The color wheel is halfway done ! 🩷❤️🧡💛

Soon I'll be working on the rest ! (Willas Tyrell💚 - Lyanna Stark 🩵 - Catelyn Stark 💙- Desmera Redwyne 💜)

[ladybug023]

Cassandra Baratheon: Margaery Tyrell vibes. She’s cunning, seductive, and she wants to be Queen more than anything.

Maris Baratheon: Tyrion Lannister/Olenna Tyrell vibes. The most intelligent but also the least liked by court out of the four storms. She can figure out people very well but her words often get her into trouble.

Ellyn Baratheon: Shireen Baratheon vibes. Peacekeeper. She just wants this war to be over with so she can be with her sisters.

Floris Baratheon: Myrcella Baratheon vibes. Sweet, a bit bratty but innocent. She just wants to make her family proud. She looks up to her sisters. Her sisters are very protective of her.

GRRM how you going to give these girls the badass label of “The Four Storms” and not give them more screen time?!

[robynqueenofstuff]

after House of the Dragon, Anyone got any ASOIAF spinoff ideas?

the Nymeria one is my favourite, Am I the only one who would be interested in seeing the Reyne/Tarbeck debacle with the Lannisters? it could start with the Reign of the Reynes and end with Tywin becoming Lord of Casterly Rock.

[kingsroad]

alyse barren 🏹 & aegon targaryen 🍷 ( house of the dragon ) taliya tyrell 🎨 & tyland lannister 💰 ( house of the dragon ) gwynne 🔪 & jacaerys velaryon 🐲 ( house of the dragon ) ellyn hightower 🎲 & daeron targaryen ⚔️ ( house of the dragon )

i was tagged by the loveliest of lovelies @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, and @indorilnerevarine, so i had to make my hotd problems in this picrew. i know mostly everyone has done this already, but i’m going to be tagging: @nokstella, @emilykaldwen, @risingsh0t, @samwilsonns, @zoyazenik​, @shadowglens, @lightwardens, @fragilestorm, and whoever else would like to partake!

[lady-ellyn-of-the-storm]

twin sigils of gold

closed starter with @tysharalannister, within @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

The Great Houses of Westeros often had subtle rivalries for their favor at the throne. Perhaps the only House that remained an exception was the North, where the frosty Starks could have little care for the politics of the South. But the other regions had always vied for it despite their own differences. Ellyn’s lord father had a particular disdain for the Dornish, but Ellyn had been raised under his word. Lord Borros had biting phrases for each of the other major houses, some harsher than others. But Ellyn did not live under each word of her lord father while in King's Landing and she intended to make her own opinions when she remained at court. The first of her list began with a House that shared gold in their sigil, the Lannisters of the Westerlands.

Ellyn had truly debated which one of the many Lannister girls to reach out to, especially since there were so numerous. Not that she could say much about her own family. In fact, they were more similar than she had originally thought. Lannister and Baratheon shared a family of young female children and a young lord heir who barely spoke a few words. Even their fathers seemed somewhat similar, but less so with their mothers. Ellyn’s own mother seemed to pale in comparison to the might of Lady Johanna Lannister. Lady Elenda was certainly a passionate woman, but not the same as the Lady of Casterly Rock.

And so, Ellyn had found herself writing a letter to one of the Lannister daughters for an afternoon of tea and sweet treats that Ellyn had asked for. The kitchens had prepared rich tarts and sugared fruits, along with intricate cakes that she could only enjoy while at the Red Keep. She had even picked flowers from the garden to decorate the room that she shared with some of her sisters and lady mother, a delicate flower of peachy yellow that smelled finer than any perfume. She had perfected her dress much to her elder maid’s irritation and set her curls herself. The Lannisters were known for their finery, and Ellyn decided that she would be known just the same. With her signature pouting eyes, she had convinced her mother and even the most troublesome of her sisters not to occupy the room while she hosted one of the Lannister ladies.

Ellyn had pondered which Lannister sister to contact but had found herself writing to Lady Tyshara after Princess Rhaena had urged her to do so. Lady Tyshara had recently announced her betrothal to the Westerling heir, and Ellyn was curious about such an arrangement. As a young noble lady on the hunt for a noble husband, Ellyn wished to learn from experience. Ellyn aimed higher than a lord from the Stormlands; let that arrangement be for her other sisters. But the advice was still advice.

“My lady, Lady Tyshara Lannister has arrived.” A maid of her house spoke quietly. Ellyn tended to the bouquet of flowers, frowning at a pillow that Cassandra had left askew with a slight stain of mud from her more recent ride. She hastily put it back into place, turning the pillow over so the stain faced the couch.

“Ah! Welcome her inside. Please bring a pot of fresh tea, and do not forget that honey that my mother bought—the one that has the slight scent of orange blossom.” Ellyn swiftly moved across the room as the maid departed, throwing open the windows to let the sun of King’s Landing into the space. Ellyn turned with a flourish as she saw Tyshara enter the room, eyes following the length of the opposite girl’s form and dress. Ellyn’s rich black curls bounced as she offered a wide smile.

“Welcome, Lady Tyshara! Thank you for accepting my most humble request for tea. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Ellyn swept into the seat of the couch, beckoning the Lannister to sit beside her. She nodded briefly to the maid who set the tea before them, curling her fingers around the delicate cup as she stirred the liquid. It did indeed smell of orange blossom, and she sighed happily at the smell.

“While I have not been at court for an extended time, I first want to say congratulations on your betrothal to the Westerling heir.” Ellyn’s eyes flicked away for a moment, scrambling for the name of the young lord to which Tyshara had been betrothed. She returned her gaze as she remembered the name with a mask of slight embarrassment.

“Joss, is it? I am sure that it is a serendipitous engagement between your Houses.” Ellyn offered another smile to Tyshara, her blue eyes glittering as she looked at her fellow noblewoman. She was not the Storm Pearl for nothing. She exemplified it with her image of beauty and propriety.

[marthawrites]

Hi Martha! Ooohh requests are open!!! I have a friends to lovers trope idea for Aemond.

Jealous and in love with his friend, Aemond and reader are fighting while he's driving her home and then bad weather forces them to pull over.

Love your writing!!!

OF COURSE YOU CAN! While talking about this request earlier on my blog, I discovered this anon is a beloved mutual! I will not out them in case they want to stay anon for real. I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS, MWAH! ♥

After The Closing Shift

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 4.6k+

Read part 2 here

About: You and Aemond have been best friends for years. The time is finally right for him to admit his true feelings. In the process of doing so, your cheating ex appears back in the picture. Unexpected events follow.

Includes: Mentions of divorce, cheating, some angst, adult language, and explicit sexual content featuring our pussy eating king, slight overstimulation, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first time writing friends to lovers trope. There's angst for added flavor and I hope you like it! I don't write it very often. This was SO much fun to brainstorm and create! All characters mentioned in this story are college age/in their early 20s. Aside from that, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

Aemond Targaryen fell in love with you senior year of high school. He could still recall the exact moment it happened; a click somewhere in his brain that made everything in your friendship prior to that moment make sense. 

You and your parents moved to the area for a fresh start. Being a new student during the first term of twelfth grade was difficult, but luckily you and Aemond hit it off early and well. By the end of the year you two were inseparable. He was your best friend, and you, his. 

That summer was a hard one for your parents. And by proxy, you. Their marriage hung on by a thread you weren't sure existed anymore. One evening, during a particularly horrible fight, you left in your own fit of rage. Driving aimlessly eventually led you to the Targaryen's estate. You showed up unannounced and thankfully Aemond was home; quick to let you crash on the couch in his room like you’d done a hundred times before.

It was that night. He remembered it well. You'd been in the bathroom for some time and when he knocked to check on you, you quietly answered for him to come in. He caught you midway through brushing your teeth with tear soaked eyes, toothpaste messy around your mouth, and that was it. His heart. The moment he fell in love with you.

You skipped the couch and crawled into his bed with him and he held you all the while, letting you cry into his shirt until sleep overtook you.

The remainder of the year went by in an emotional blur. Your parents divorced, you started dating Jason Lannister, and Aemond started dating Ellyn Baratheon. Before you knew it you and Aemond were freshmen in college. And then sophomores. Double dates on weekends and trips to local swimming spots in the hot summer evenings had Aemond constantly wrestling with his feelings about you. Things didn't last much longer with him and Ellyn. Physically he was with her, but mentally he was with you. When the breakup finally happened, it was mutual.

Things with you and Jason were rocky too. He was handsome and charismatic which you adored. Though, he also had a wandering eye and taste for risk. He cheated on you more than once over the last year. And yet, somehow, you took him back each time. In your heart you were scared to be alone.

After the latest breakup you told yourself (and Aemond) this time would be different. You wouldn't fall for his tricks again. He was a cheating piece of shit who wouldn't change. You were done.

Aemond knew now would be his chance. As long as he eased into it, was careful with the admission, and took it slow, he knew he had a chance. The most difficult part being: he didn't want to ruin the friendship you two built over the years.

Now tonight, near the end of your waitressing shift, you got a ping on your phone for extreme weather. Great. Of course this would happen when your car was in the shop getting worked on. You really didn't want to Uber all the way home if you didn't have to. Despite the hour – 10 pm thanks to the closing shift – you texted Aemond.

Hey Aems. You up? There's a storm rolling in and I don't wanna Uber. Can you pick me up and take me home?

A minute or so went by and your phone dinged.

I don't mind at all. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll head your way.

"Thank god," you said under your breath.

Thank you! You're the best

As if on queue you got another notification. You expected it to be Aemond with some sort of snarky response, but it wasn’t. It was Jason. Your heart, somehow, jumped and fell into your stomach at the same time.

The last couple weeks had been rough. Him and Aegon liked to party a little too much, and Aegon refused to be held down by one woman – he liked to have fun. Unfortunately, Jason would sometimes get a little too involved with that fun if whoever Aegon was smooching on had a pretty friend. That’s exactly what happened: you had caught your boyfriend red-handed. A furious fright broke out between you two and you broke up with him, swearing it was the last time he’d play you like some fool. 

And yet, here you were – now – allowing your ex-boyfriend to sweet talk you with pretty words and promises of never doing it again. He missed you. He loved you. He wanted to be with you. You were his best girl and he was just drunk that night. It was a horrible mistake. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was sorry. He missed you.

Butterflies filled your belly, eyes stary as you typed away on your phone, completely unaware of anything else going on around you. 

You didn’t even notice the headlights of Aemond’s black Mercedes Benz until he honked. Rolling the darkly tinted window down, he said, “hey bunny, could you at least pretend to be happy you're not stuck in the pouring ass rain?” You heard his smirk before you saw it. He laid on his horn a second time, a longer honk, until you flipped him off; blushing and smiling wide.

Only Aemond called you “bunny”: a nickname from high school that stuck over the years. 

“Rain and thunder. Let’s go!” You hopped in and were immediately enveloped by the essence of him. The interior of his car was all sleek and black leather. Clean. Scents of his shampoo, body wash, and deodorant washed over you; long silver hair damp and pulled back into a bun. You two had spent many nights in here talking about life and there were no shortage of good memories in it. By now you didn’t even mind the weird music he liked. Heavy metal. The kind that had organs and orchestras alongside powerful drums and electric guitars. Your favorites were the bands, or songs, that had males and females singing together.

“Did you make good tips tonight? You haven’t stopped grinning this whole time,” Aemond spoke up after a few minutes, casually glancing over at you. 

You stared at your phone and continued typing away. “Huh? Oh, yeah, not bad,” you replied, briefly flickering your attention over to him. Once again your thumbs flew across your phone’s keypad; completely absorbed. “Sorry, just about done here.”

An amused chuff of air is all Aemond replied with. You knew that sound. Without even looking you knew he rolled his good eye. Another few minutes passed with Aemond singing along softly while keeping beat on the steering wheel. You two were definitely driving into the storm. The night sky was black with angry clouds. 

Finally, you clicked your phone screen off. A happy sigh sounded from you. This time would be different. Jason didn’t mean it. He was only drunk and Aegon was a bad influence. This time, he’d do it right and keep it right. Again, you smiled.

“What’re you doing tonight, bun?”

“I think Jason is gonna come over so we can talk about things in person and not just on the phone,” you replied, mind buzzing happily.

That got Aemond’s attention. “Lannister? Please tell me you’re joking,” he nearly spat the surname, glaring between you and the road.

“No I’m not joking,” you answered. “I really think it’s gonna be better this time. We just need to talk about things, you know?”

“He’s cheated on you three times! Three fucking times. You really think this time is going to be different?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, jaw flexing as if wrestling words on his tongue.

You blinked, taken back. “W-well, yeah. He said he was sorry.”

A single harsh laugh came from Aemond’s chest. “That piece of shit said the same thing last time, too. We’ve been together nonstop for almost two weeks! Study sessions, movie nights, ice cream trips, you finally learned how to do that fancy braid thing with my hair. You said you were done with him, bunny. You said you meant it for real this time. I thought we were getting through this together.” He was speeding, now, shoulders tense as he struggled to keep his attention on both you and the road.

“I thought I was too!” Your voice came out more shrill than you intended it to, body turned slightly so you were staring straight at Aemond. “People make mistakes and fuck up, ya know? I think he’ll change this time. He said he was sorry and I wanna talk to him about it seriously. I think he just needed time to realize what he did was super shitty and really hurt me.”

The rain came harshly and suddenly. Aemond might as well have driven through a wall. It was so loud that it drowned out the music. Naturally, your voices grew louder, too. “I don’t understand what you see in him. He’s not even that good to you!”

Anxiety gripped your entire nervous system. “Pull over, Aems. I don’t like this. It hasn’t rained like this in forever and the roads are gonna be slick as fuck. Pull over. Please.” Your pulse thumped in your chest and behind your ears. You wanted to cover your eyes but somehow resisted the urge. 

He did. With it now parked safely off the side of the road he could turn his full attention to you. Even in the car’s ambient light his eye was wild. The patch over his left eye reflected absolutely zero light. “Why do you wanna be with that loser so bad?” Fury smudged his cheeks pink. The tops of his ears. The sharp lines of his face were even sharper. Harder.

You'd never seen him this mad. Not at you. Not towards you. "Because, Aemond, I love him! Maybe if you and Ellyn worked through your problems you'd understand!"

Again, that same short, dry laugh. "You don't love him. And I couldn't be with Ellyn because when I was with her I could only see you! Because I love you. Jason's a fucking scumbag who can't even give you his loyalty. I'd give you the entire world and then some!"

Silence drowned out the downpour.

By now you were both wide eyed and breathing heavy; faces flushed with emotion. The tightness in his car threatened to suffocate you both. Did you really just hear him right? Did he really mean what he just said? Love? "You're lying," is all you managed to croak; believing and unbelieving alike.

"'M not," he said as he ran a hand through the roots of his hair. "Fuck. I've loved you as long as I can remember. I didn't want to tell you like this."

Outside it rained harder. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked. 

Yet, still, inside the Mercedes silence rang louder.

Everything started to click in your head. Your best friend had always been more than a best friend – you knew it in your heart of hearts. You two never had the opportunity to act upon such things due to relationships you found yourselves in.

But, now?

Words bloomed and died on your tongue. What the hell could you say to him?

"Fuck," he spat, emotion rasping his single word. His hands squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles and tendons were taut.

Still, you said nothing. Just stared at him. Stupidly.

One hand moved to shift the car into drive as he said, bitterly, "know what? Whatever. Forget it. I'll take you home to your cheating fuck boy."

You had a single second to decide what to do; despite your pleas to pull over he was going to drive through the storm, regardless. In a flash of motion you didn't know you were capable of, you unclicked your seat belt and pounced over the center console. You had the element of surprise on your side and it worked. Your lips were on his in an instant. He smelled sharp; soap, shaving cream, hair product. He tasted spicy; cinnamon toothpaste. His chest was hard beneath the press of your much softer breast – both of your hands too shocked to yet roam. Heartbeat thundered in your ribs and core at the kiss, your closeness, and the eruption of sensation the intimacy brought. Begrudgingly, you pulled away to look at him. To gauge his reaction. To read the expression of his angular face. What you were met with was a swelled pupil that screamed more. Desire. Need. It oozed from every visible pore.

Amidst the downpower, thunderstorm, and heavy metal, Aemond growled at the loss of your lips. Wordlessly he crashed his mouth back to yours while he unclicked his own seatbelt – hands on your neck and jaw half a second later.

Heat pooled in your belly – and lower, still – his passion causing you to whimper against his soft mouth. "Shit, Aems," you whispered, unable to resist a moan as he bit at your bottom lip. Your tongues slid and teased against one another. It deepened and grew hungrier by the moment.

"Wanted this for so long," he said in a tone you'd never heard from him before; it sent shivers prickling all along your spine. Breaking the kiss, he dragged his lips and teeth along your jawline and neck. His hands roamed in tandem, palms pressing against your uniform clad body as if you wore fine lingerie. He squeezed the curve of your waist. The swell of a hip.

"A-ah!" You gasped, dizzy and lightheaded from the sensations his desperate affections hit you with. Each stroke of his palm, squeeze of his fingers, and slide of his tongue had you melting between his hands. "Oh my God… you're driving me insane. Why have we never done this before?" You panted, moving to crawl over the center console once and for all.

Aemond stopped you. "Not yet. I wanna be greedy with you. Will you let me?" He asked, eye dark and face mischievous as you two gazed at each other dreamily, lustfully, breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you answered, nodding with half-lidded eyes. "I trust you. Always. You know that."

"Good girl," he cooed – driving you further insane. "Lean back against the passenger door. Can you do that for me, baby girl?" 

Not your name. Not 'bunny'. Baby girl. You were in a pit of insanity now. Jason never made you feel like this. What the fuck had you been missing out on for the last two years? 

You nodded again and barely managed to swallow yet another whine of appreciation at his words. His tone. Fuck. You thought you'd heard every tone his voice could make. But no, you certainly hadn't heard this side of him before. As you leaned back, he leaned forward. His gaze never left you and the intensity of it had your belly flipping and flopping, breath shallow in your throat, as his hand slipped up between your parted thighs.

"If you want me to stop, that's all you gotta say and I will," he whispered, creeping higher. He kissed the inside of your knee and you hissed inwardly. He kissed again, this time the middle of your thigh, and you trembled. He smirked as he kissed higher still. You moaned softly, so, so, softly, and his cock ached. "Gonna pull your panties down and bury my face right under your skirt."

"A-Aemond… oh my God. Please. No, you don't have to do that. I've been running around the restaurant for over ten hours and–"

" –even better. Don't care." By now he'd pushed your skirt up as high as it could go without ripping it off. He admired your thighs. He'd always loved those; stealing glances whenever and wherever he could, even napping on them. Shifting his position, he leaned further and pressed a single hot, open mouthed kiss to your covered mound. He groaned. "You have no idea how long–" he paused, slipping a finger beneath the cotton to tug it aside, " –I've wanted to do this." He delicately traced over your slit, cock aching inside his sweats at the wetness he met.

Tension shivered all up and down your body and you thought you might actually pass out. You couldn't believe this was happening. When you looked down and saw Aemond there, between your thighs, with the most lust-ridden gaze you'd ever seen on any person, your hips arched closer to him on impulse. You opened your thighs wider and you swore you saw your best friend shiver.

He kissed your slit. Once, twice, three times, until his mouth hovered over your clit. There, he traced his tongue over that delicious bundle of nerves. He licked up the full center of your core with the flat of his tongue, a soft “mmm,” sounding from him. “Prettiest little pussy,” he half said to himself before diving his tongue back between your folds. He circled your clit, licking across it, alternating between the two. 

Each little sound you made sent Aemond’s blood roaring. He only wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Your moans and whines picked up; he found your rhythm. With a small, satisfied moan of his own, he gently sucked on your swollen clit. “Ah!” You squeaked in surprise at that, body tensing as you tried to push his head away. “Too much… not so hard, please,” you said when he pulled back and looked up at you with a confused expression. You ran a hand down your face, blushing. “I…,” you started, trying to muster the strength to admit something you found embarrassing. “I’m.. I’m really sensitive. Jason doesn’t do this to me a lot.”

Aemond looked like you just slapped him across the face. “He doesn’t eat your pussy?”

You shook your head and shrugged a shoulder. “Not… not very often,” you answered, embarrassment flooding over you like a wave and making your blush all the redder.

“Oh my God, bunny…,” he cooed, fully tugging your underwear down your legs. He moved both his hands under your ass, now, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh as he leaned down into his previous position. “As if I didn’t hate him enough as is.” He was careful before, but now he was delicate and light with his movements. Instead of pressing, he feathered his tongue over you. Instead of dragging, he trailed his lips over you. Instead of sucking, he barely drew you into his mouth to his tongue. He found a new soft rhythm – never once hindering the sounds of his licking, slurping, or breathing – and you were putty in his hands. 

“So fucking good…!” You gasped in a breathless whisper, hands tentatively lowering to his hair where your fingers threaded into his pale roots. You held him there, tugging gently, as your hips grinded against his mouth. You were close. So close. Tension built in your belly and you weren’t sure how long it would last before it snapped. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept going at the exact same pace, the exact same angles, and the exact same pressure. Over and over. Just how he’d been doing it before you started grinding your pretty pussy against him. When you tugged and pulled at his hair he moaned. When your fingernails scraped against his scalp he thought he might lose himself to his own pleasure right then and there. 

The full length of your legs tightened; toes curling in your shoes. Pleasure, so immense and lovely and all-consuming, washed over you, and in the next instant you were coming undone on your best friend’s tongue. Your back arched, hands gripped – the sounds of your peak filling his car amidst heavy drums, bass, and darkly poetic lyrics.

He guided you through your orgasm, his own pulse hammering. “I’m not done yet, baby. You taste so fucking sweet,” he said, barely audible to your pleasantly ringing ears. With his hands still under you he lifted your ass to give himself a better angle into you. While you were still sensitive from your first peak he pushed his tongue into your clenching walls. He fucked you with the warm muscle, absolutely uncaring of the lewd noises it created. 

It's not that Jason had never done this to you before, but compared to Aemond he was absolute dogshit at it. You'd never experienced this kind of high from a man's face between your thighs. Ever. Aemond made it seem easy. Soon, a second climax built in the low muscles of your belly. "Holy shit..! I'm gonna cum again, fuck!" You squealed, tugging his ears, hair, anywhere you could grab, harder.

"Yeah you are. Good girl, my good girl," he answered before dipping his face right back where it was. He came at you with a slightly different angle once again. This time, the tip of his nose nuzzled against your clit in tandem with his tongue fucking. 

It was too much. His name left your lungs in a desperate cry of bliss as you tensed and shuddered before him for a second time. When finally you relaxed, and when finally he had enough of your taste in his mouth, he leaned up into the driver's seat. Even in the low light evidence of your slick shone on his face. He looked over at you and smirked, wiping his mouth. "I won't be able to not see you there like this from now on." 

You were blushed and smiling from release. Despite the pleasure Aemond gifted you with, being in such a position really wasn't comfortable. "And I won't be able to look at you and not think of this," you replied in the same tone. As gracefully as you could in the confines of his car, you maneuvered over the center console until you were straddling over his lap. His length pressed against your bare core and you both hissed at the sensation.

"What are you thinking, bunny?" He asked, barely resisting the urge – no, the need – to slide right up into you.

"I'm thinking I wanna ride you right here in your driver's seat," you answered, kissing him with the remains of your arousal on his mouth.

"There's a condom in the glove box," he said, reaching in its direction.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean. Promise. Are… are you?"

That stopped him right in his tracks. He groaned somewhere deep in his chest. "Fuck. Yeah, babe, I am. Gonna ride me raw?"

"Yes," you shivered. In a quick fumble of motions he lifted his hips and you both pulled his sweats down as far as they could go. His cock sprang free, solid and searing against you. Looking down between your bodies you eyed it appreciatively; big and perfect and flushed with desire. "Holy shit, Aems, I didn't know you were packing so much," you said, the playful teasing nature you intended to speak with crumbling away to a wanton plea.

Another groan, or growl, or something vibrated deep in his chest. Without hesitation he popped open the front of your button-up shirt and slid the straps of your bra off your shoulders. "Perfect tits," he praised as he pushed the cups away to expose your breasts, licking and kissing over your nipples with need. 

Leaning up on your knees you reached behind yourself to guide his tip to your eager cunt. You lowered yourself, slowly, saving the stretch of his cock into your yielding body. You both cursed. He felt so fucking good.

"So perfect," Aemond said up to you from the softness of your breasts. "So wet and tight. Fuck, I love how wet you are." 

Once your body adjusted to his size you began to grind against him. Began to bounce on him. His music still played in the background but you paid it little mind. All you saw was Aemond. Your best friend. His face a beautiful display of softness and intensity with pleasure. His dark eye was heavily lidded, mouth parted. You bounced more, now, as his hands gripped your hips to help guide you along.

The storm hadn't let up yet, and thank God for the dark tint on his windows because you weren't even paying attention to any other cars that might be driving by. 

He lavished your tits with attention; kissing, licking, sucking all over them. You pushed them against his face firmer, arching your back as you rode him with fervor. He worked beneath you all the while – rolling and thrusting up into you, meeting all your movements to increase the hot coil of bliss in your belly; at the base of his spine.

Amidst half-babbled curses and praises, smacking skin, and needy moans, your phone's ringtone barely registered in your brain. Whoever was calling could wait. When it rang a second time, you felt Aemond's attention shift to it. "Your parents?" He asked through a panting groan.

"No. Probably Jason wondering where I am." You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, uncaring. 

When it rang for a third time, however, Aemond broke the kiss and reached for your phone. Sure enough it was your ex. He looked at you and smirked, dragging your hips back and forth to grind on him harder. 

"Oh my God…," you whined at the way he guided you, eyes rolling closed. "Don't answer it."

He slid his thumb across the screen before holding it up to his ear. Jason's worried tone met your ears as Aemond continued fucking up into you through your grinding. You tried to swallow your panic. Tried to stay quiet through the bliss.

Tried to.

"She's done with you. Stop calling," Aemond said coldly. He glared at you, grinning.

You heard Jason's "what the fuck? Is that her? What're you doing?" Through the phone. He was pissed. Apparently you weren't being quiet enough. 

"She's got better things to do than worry about a cheating scumbag. Lose her number." Aemond sat the phone down on the center console and didn't bother to hang up. 

As long as Jason stayed on the line he'd be able to hear your moans of pleasure, wet skin slapping on wet skin as you began to bounce on his cock with renewed passion. "You're such an asshole," you said, a third climax quickly approaching.

"Just keep fucking me, baby girl. Don't worry about him, he hung up.” Honestly, Aemond didn’t know if Jason hung up. He might have laughed if it weren't for his own peak tightening his balls. He wasn't going to last much longer. "Squeeze my cock. Be a gold girl and soak my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groaned, voice bordering desperate.

"Cum with me. Fill me up with all of you," you whispered, moaning by his ear.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin. He didn't need to be told twice. Those words falling from your lips was all he needed to unload in you with twitch after mighty twitch, coating your walls with his seed. You crumbled with him. You rode your pleasure out on him, slowly easing once it all started to be too much. He softened inside you and you carefully moved from atop him.

There was a mess all over his groin and all between your thighs, too. If you thought you needed a shower before getting into Aemond's car, now you really needed one. Outside, the storm was finally letting up.

You both fixed yourself in partially stunned and satisfied silence – your underwear being the only thing to clean yourselves with.

It was Aemond who broke it. "Stay over with me tonight."

You looked at him and smiled. "Long as I can shower."

"Of course you can," he said, eye twinkling with more than mischief.

"And, long as I can sleep in one of your shirts."

"You already know the answer to that one, bunny."

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @ruby-dragon @bloodwyrmcaraxes @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

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[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: cassandra baratheon dreams of prince aemond. the same cannot be said for prince aemond himself.

warnings: explicit language. smut. simp!aemond eating out his girl because the feast apparently sucked. slight breeding kink. voyeurism. cass gets her poor lil heart broken for the plot.

notes: i texted @chainsawsangel with the following:

"me when I break cassandra baratheon’s poor lil heart by having her come across aemond eating out his handmaid. #feminism".

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Lady Cassandra Baratheon stumbles across them next, though by an honest mistake as well.

(It hurts her heart a bit too much to considerate it anything other than that)

Foolish, foolish, foolish girl.

She had always been a prideful child, too high-spirited and headstrong for her own good. Her own lady mother warned her of that. But on her eight-and-ten nameday, her lord father brought up the prospect of a betrothal between her and Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Cassandra liked that very much- the idea of becoming his princess. Each night before sleep, she’d mumble his name into her pillow, a tiny prayer to any listening god that they would make him hers.

Please, please, please…

Prince Aemond…Aemond Targaryen, she whispered, a smile curling on her lips. One day he’ll be my husband, and I his lady wife.

Three months later, House Baratheon arrived at King’s Landing to celebrate the nameday of the Princess Rhaenyra, the realm’s heir.

Cassandra had brushed out her long dark hair until it shone in the evening sunlight and chosen her finest red silks. She had been looking forward to this day for weeks since learning of her possible marriage to Prince Aemond. Prince Aemond, her future betrothed. She giggled at the thought. Just thinking of him stirred butterflies within her tummy, a faint fluttering feeling inside. She was so in love with him.

He was so tall and handsome and strong, with sharp, stern features and hair like moonlight. Everything a prince ought to be.

Prince Aemond, my future husband.

Prince Aemond spared her not a single glance during the banquet, much to her embarrassment. Cassandra had made sure to look her best, all in the hopes of catching his attention. Several Lannister lords complimented her well throughout the night. But her prince remained at the royal family’s long table, seated in his chair with no desire to move. Or ask for my hand in a dance, she thought with a pout.

“Perhaps he does not know of the betrothal?” Her sister, Ellyn, offered. “There could be a chance that he was never told.”

Cassandra was not appeased. “No, the queen would’ve told him; it is in her good natural…perhaps he does not care to dance,” she sniffed in disapproval. She would prefer a husband that would twirl her around the room, the way a prince does with his princess. She picked up her fork, quietly chewing on the roasted meat as she spotted her Prince Aemond then slipping out of the room. Her eyebrow raised, but she said nothing more, too disappointed and sadden to push the matter further.  

“Go talk to him after this,” her mother, Lady Elenda, murmured into her ear, rubbing her shoulder. “Dragons love a stormy sky as much as they do a clear and bright-blue one.”

Cassandra does what her mother told her, walking down the dimmed Keep’s hallway, running a hand across the stoned wall as she searches for Prince Aemond’s bedchamber. If the gods heard my prayers, then I shall soon share it… But as she nears one of the little libraries, she overhears a soft moan, feminine and breathless.

And another…and another.

A hiccup this time.

A whimper for the fourth.

It causes her cheeks to flush pink as she stands for a moment outside the room, hearing more moans and whimpers and hiccups fill the air. Servants, perhaps? She considers that for a slight second before the girl inside moans out a name that makes her breath hitch in her throat and her stomach begin to tauten.

“Aemond…”

No, she thinks, pressing a hand against her breast, feeling her poor heart painfully quickening within her chest. No. No. No. Cassandra shakes her head, not willing to believe such. No. No. No, it cannot be. But…

“A-Aemond…”

Breathing deeply, she leans in, peering into the room as her gaze locks onto a girl perched atop the dark, mahogany desk. Her head is flung back as she trembles and moans, tangling her hand in the silver hair of her Prince Aemond, who is nestled between her thighs. Oh…but Cassandra knows what he is doing. The girl’s chest rises and falls, heavy breasts tugged out from her plain servant dress, her other hand pinching both swollen nipples.

“Ah…! Mmmm, oh sweet gods, Aemond….”  

Cassandra feels ready to faint. Tears swell in her dark eyes as she watches Aemond shake his head and smush his handsome face deeper between the girl’s quivering thighs, strong hands holding her legs apart. “Keep them apart…good girl,” she hears him mumble. “That damned feast outside did nothing to quell my hunger, such a fucking waste of my time.”

The girl bites her lip, her shoulders trembling.

“I want to live here, in between your thighs,” and Aemond lifts his face up from her soaking cunt, kissing the inside of both her thighs. Once, twice, four times, so soft and tender and loving. He brings two fingers to trace along her folds up to her clit, chuckling when the girl shivers and gasps. “My pretty little handmaid- my precious girl.”

“My prince…”

Handmaid? Cassandra scoffs at that, several fat tears already streaking down her cheeks. Her pretty dark eyes are probably smudged and red and absolutely ugly.

A handmaid…she’s lost to a fucking lowborn handmaid, a girl nothing more than the dirt beneath her dainty sandaled feet.

She’d laugh if she wasn’t so fucking heartbroken.

Cassandra keeps her eyes on her Aemond as he rises to his feet, pulling the handmaid’s face up to his for a passionate kiss. She sucks in a breath, hearing the muffled moans and wet noises and the prince’s low groans, and the dirty, sinful words that he mutters against her puffy lips.

“I’m not your prince, my love. How many times must I need to remind you?”

The handmaid shakes her head, shying away before his fingers grip her chin, tugging her face back to his. “All the babes I’ve seeded into your belly, and yet you still think of me as nothing more than your prince….” Aemond chuckles, tracing her bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. Cassandra can see his other hand fall to his pants and hears his belt unbuckling. “Rest assured, I’ll give you a few more months, but then my baby will be in your womb again.”

“But we already have three,” the handmaid whines, leaning back on her palms as she eyes the prince’s hardened cock when his pants puddle down to his ankles. But there is a smile on her lips, and her pretty features are twisted in glowing happiness and excitement. She reaches forward, wrapping a hand around the head of his dick, smirking when he hisses. “Let the twins reach their third nameday, my love, before we consider our next one.”

Aemond hums. “We’ll see.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Cassandra Baratheon leaves soon after that, face tucked within her hands as she curses the gods above for not listening to her prayers.

“Why? Why? Why?” she asks, again and again. “But why would they?” she soon mumbles, blinking the new tears back. “They were foolish wishes. I was too fucking foolish.”

She hears laughter and singing, mocking her misery, and when she flies past the royal nursery, she fails to notice the good Queen Alicent cuddling a brown-haired babe to her chest.

And at her feet sat two pretty twin children playing with their little wooden dragon figurines.

tag list: @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 15

Synopsis: At the end you are forced to fight, alone.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

The war was over. Peace still alluded Westeros as fractions battled for Kings Landing. The grief of two years of war had ended. But now a new battle was about the begin. One that would utterly consume you, greater than any other. Running so fast you could barely breath, the walls were closing in. The world had fallen silent to your ears. A beating heart was all you were physically conscious of. Down the halls your ancestors grew up in you flew.

The flight of stairs felt too long. Ever step seemed to take a lifetime. Staggering to the last few flight you lunged for the door. Shoving the door opened you opened up on your son. He lay in the arms of Lady Jenna, surrounded by Cerilla and two guards. She did not even seem surprised to see you. "Y/n. I will send in a maester to you." Looking her in the eye, for the first time, you noticed the cold look in her eyes. Her jaw rigidly clenched together, like she was holding herself back. The calm look on her face was completely performative. Jenna Tyrell had maintained complete power over the Tyrells, and by extension you. Never before had you acknowledged it so clearly. Jenna stood here, terrible and powerful. There you stood, powerless and pitiful. All along you had been dancing in the palm of her hands. Everything had been planned out. From the moment she poisoned your father to this very moment.

You lunged for your son, laying in her arms surrounded by that hideous green fabric. A strangled cry between fright and rage left you cold lips. The guards seized you. Helplessly you tried to rescue your son. He lay there in the clutches of his grandfathers killer, his mothers jailer. "Calm her down. Y/n is simply exhausted from grief." And then she walked towards the door. Owen squirmed and reached out for you. "Please, my son." You begged. Jenna sighed and clutched Owen closer. "You have nothing to fear Y/n. Your son will be well taken care of." Struggling in the guards arms you continued the struggle. "Where is Dara? What have you done to her?!" Showing signs of annoyance Jenna replied; "Lady Dara is being sent home." Horrified you collapsed. The world spun before you. Owen cried out and you attempted to reached him. Unable to move, all you could do was watch Jenna walk out of the door with you son.

Everything seemed to flashed before your eyes. They said this happened before death, where you relived your life before joining the Gods. Jenna flitted in and out of them like a specter of death. Her hands seemed to be in every aspect of your life. The mattress sunk beneath your weight. Maesters loaded you with potions that brought you to the brink of oblivion. Not even your fingers could move and inch. Breathing felt heavy, like someone was pushing down on your lungs. Memories came and went with you helplessly watching. A hum of silence reverberated through your hears. You could feel it in your very bones as it grew in strength.

At some point you were able to sit up. Still very weak you tried to stand up. Legs failed and you fell back onto the seats. Each strain was a torment on your body. Reaching over with great effort you poured a drink. The taste of wine seemed to bring you back to your senses. Reality set in and the goblet fell from your hands. Owen. In a panic you stood up. Suddenly physical inability mattered not. Pulling on the door you realized it was locked. "Let me out!" Hammering against the door you cried out. No one answered your pleas for help. Hearing rustling outside you knew they could hear you. Guards most likely. Again you tried to pry the door opened but it was all hopeless. Stuck in this purgatory all you could do was beat against the door in a vain attempt to break free. This was fear such as you had never felt before. Trapped by those you knew and your son missing. When exhaustion finally became too overpowering, you slid to the ground.

That night you dreamed of Jaecerion. In that dream you lay in his arms. His silver hair shielded you for the outside. He swore, as he had in life, to always protect you. Strong arms held you close. Pink lips ghosted your hairline. Sweet things were whispered swearing a world of happiness and peace. He would save you from all those who would bring harm.

When next you came there was only pain and darkness. Your dreams had been of nothing. A great hole had been dug into your soul with the ferocity of a white hot knife. Waking brought no light. Clouds blocked the moon, and in turn you were eclipsed by greater forces. Nails dug into the delicate fabric of your green dress. Tilting your head back you reminisced on the situation. You wondered for how long you had been so weak. Perhaps from the very start. When had you ever been able to gain any measure of satisfaction? Ellyn and Rhaenyra had died, but not from your power. Cerilla remained at large and Jenna reigned victorious. What had you ever done to receive her ire? Was it simply to do down any rivals to Highgarden? But if that were the case what about Owen? "She plans to marry him to her granddaughter. She needs him." You convinced yourself.

When next you received company it was a maid. She quickly delivered food and left. "Where is Dara?" But she said nothing. It now occurred to you why Jenna stored you in a tower. There was truly no escape. Not unless she wished it.

At some point you went back to sleep. When next you woke it was morning. It brought you no light. This cold room was no place for one to flourish. Here you remained like a wilting rose. As a child you had walked through the gardens. One cold day you had treaded upon a wilting rose on the ground. Its once lovely pink petals were stained with mud and rot. On the ground it lingered, slowly being destroyed as people carelessly walked all over it. Even those who had not meant to banished the roses life. There it lay, weak, forced to endure the whims of others.

Whether roses felt anything one could not say. But you who were human undoubtedly felt as the rose might have. On weak feet you staggered. Anger pulsed through your veins. Everyone had abandoned you. Either dead or traitors. Your thoughts went to poor Jaecerion who had so suddenly died. So suddenly after you agreed to marry him. Where had Jenna gone? For a period of time she disappeared, where had Jenna gone? With a scream of anger you sent a cup and plate crashing to the ground. "Murderer!" Things went flying and breaking in your storm of rage. You cursed Jenna for everything. You hoped that a day would come when you would revenge yourself upon her. And when that day came she would die screaming in dreadful agony.

When next you slept you dreamed of killing them all. Visions of tearing apart Jenny, Ellyn and Cerilla reared their heads in the dark. It was not just them but others. Those who had mocked you at court. Those who fled from you in your hour of need. Aemond was writhing as your tore his heart out, blood running down your forearm. Dreams where you punished them in the most horrid ways. They begged for mercy and you granted none. When you woke there was a strange sense of calm. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like you had been running. Stretching out images of your revenge brought the vestiges of joy. "If I ever get the chance, I will make all of them suffer." Some were beyond your reach, Ellyn and Aemond were dead. Aemond was a difficult thought. Although you friendship was buried and dead you mourned him. Now if he were alive that might be a different matter.

Others were in your reach. However when the sobering realization that even the living were safe from your wrath. For the past two years you had felt so small. Insignificant. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Insignificant. Ellyn had mocked you when she married Aemond. Like a servant she treated you. That time just as this there had been nothing you could do. Both Jenna and yourself held the same position, dowagers and mother to an heir. How different you paths had been. She was all powerful. You were nothing. The reality stung, and yet it was reality.

For a time they left you totally alone. Every now and then a maid would some in to bring food. But no one had bothered to clean the mess you made. Too mentally to clean you simply let the artifacts remain. But eventually people came. A maester accompanied by guards arrived. Looking up from the place on your bed you met his eyes. "Where is my son." Uncomfortable, the maester replied; "He is well taken care of by Lady Jenna-" He was cut off by your laughter. Her shrunk back at who he considered a mad woman laughing. And you laughed and laughed. They either believed her or "Lady Y/n, please come with me." Sitting up, you asked; "Where to?" "I do not know my lady." Once more they sought to control you. But you were no child or servant to be lead. " Where to. I will not ask you again."

Guards surged forward. They seized you by the arms and up. Trashing around you screamed, with little affect. All they could do was force you out and down the stairs. By the gods you struggled in their grasp. Determined not to be taken you fought every step of the way. Had only you showed such resolve sooner.

Dragged outside you noticed onlookers. Their eyes seemed cold in your state of fear. Standing like the gallows was a carriage. The unfriendly glares Septas only served to fuel the storm of emotions. "Careful with my cousin." It was Gerald Tyrell, Jenna's only child. When he looked down at you there was stele in his eyes. What you had done to warrant such a look was unknown. His words curious enough, but they were just that, words. Hurried into the carriage the septa's seized you. "Sit." One of them ordered. Refusing you clawed at the door. Suddenly you were slapped. Despite her age the septa had strength. The scowl on her face said she would do it again. Tasting blood you still refused to sit. The other one seized you. Forced to sit, the septa said; "You shall sit or we will have you whipped." Chest heaving and anger mounting you shot them both a ferocious stare. Yet they were unfazed. And in truth why not? They had nothing to fear from you.

The truth of your situation banished any ability to move. Even a septa could scold you now. The carriage jerked and you looked out the window. Owen might still be in Highgarden, and you were being sent to who knows where. Your hands clutched at the window bars. Oh how you wished you possessed greater power. "That will do you no good." One of the septa's scoffed. In another state of mind you might have fought her. How you had been diminished. As Highgarden shrunk away you mournfully looked at where Owen may be.

Your wrists throbbed something fierce. Help expecting the skin to break you constantly looked down. The skin was smooth and clear. Wondering if it was poison you touched cold trembling lips. All the while both septa's said nothing, sitting in stony silence. Whenever the carriage stopped and you were laid to rest, one stayed in bed. One septa to sleep beside you, another to watch. Guards kept a watch at you at all times. The idea you would be able to flee was ridiculous. Even in times of stability you would easily be overcome. With the realm still in chaos there was even less hope.

At night you dreamed of parents long gone. Your mothers weeping face hovering above, fathers lips blue and horrid. Father had died of poison given by that bitch Jenna. Trying to recall mothers death, you remembered. She had fallen down a flight of stairs. And the lordship of House Tarley went to her cousin. Had it truly been an accident? Or was all it took a little push? Jenna may have had a hand in it, placing some lickspittle in the place of your mother. Rarely had you thought of your family. Regretting that, now you wondered who supported who. You knew so little about Highgarden and its politics. Deep down you had always known that Jenna ruled, but had never questioned it. Now you were paying for it.

Your thoughts went between Owen and the future. What was going to happen to you? Would she kill you? But if that was the case why wait? Perhaps this was a method of prolonging your agony. What you had ever done to incur her ire could not be said. If Jenna truly wanted to take over the lordship then why kill you? What threat were you to her now?

Owen was your son and heir. He was no threat to her son for Highgarden, inheritance did not pass though the female line. As Lord of Casterly Rock anyone who had control of your son held great power. Jenna may have no intentions of killing Owen and merely desired control. The thought comforted you to a degree. She might not kill him but Owen would always be controlled. The thought nearly sent you into a fit of hysteria. "No. Think of his safety. Him being alive is all that matters."

Passing through familiar woods you realized the destination. The hunting grounds had been ones you ventured through with long lost friends. Ghosts of the past flitted about, riding on horses and walking about the grounds. In those days your world had been so different. You spent your days in the alcove with Prince Aemond, walked the shores with Jaecerion, giggled and ate cakes with Flora, and was tucked into bed by Elinor. You had been a girl back then, basking in the summer light. Those days of summer was long past. Winter had come and you were stripped of everything.

You smelled Kings Landing before seeing the red towers. Last time you had been leaving for Casterly Rock. In all honesty you had not expected to come back. At least for a long time. Although only two years had passed it felt like a lifetime. The gates drew closer and finally you saw the place which was once home. Now you feared it would be a prison. The gates looked unchanged, except there were black and red banners in stead of green. The Hightowers were undone, just as you were. "Open the gate!" A great groan emanated as heavy metal was forced to give way. The carriage trundled through. You noticed it was eerily silent. Now you could clearly see the changes. Even though the window was small it was enough to see outward.

Men, women and children left ravished by war looked at you with hollow eyes. Smelling the air you realized there was a new smell. Flesh. Dead flesh left to rot. Eyes shut you tried to block everything out. Every rumbled of the carriage, the path was not smooth, set your insides trembling. There was animosity in the air. Although you had never ventured into the poorest parts of Kings Landing it could not have been this grim. And were there not more? Rhaenys had killed a fair few with Meraxes, Aegon others after his sons death, and others fell to war. If flesh was left out to rot the rest may very well fall to disease. The thought curdled your blood. All had suffered in this war, not just the highborn.

"Murderer!" Something hit the carriage window. It splattered the bars and send disgusting rooting fruit flying in. Alarmed you jerked back. What in the Seven had just happened? Then something else was thrown and thankfully it hit the door. Suddenly there were cries as who knows how many surrounded the carriage. They screamed, filled with bloodlust. You could hear "murderer" and other words best not repeating. In a torrent of confusion all you could do was shrink back and pray the guards would keep you safe. "Move! Out of the way!" Guards sent the crowd scattering. But never for long. Each time they were driven away another group would arrive, larger than the last.

The journey up to the Red Keep seemed to take a lifetime. All the time you sat there ridged. Confusion and fear were you companions. The septas were no help. They simply set there and looked at you with cold, unsympathetic eyes. You dared not ask them any questions, less all you receive was a slap or harsh words. You had your fill of those things. The screams only stopped when the Red Keeps towers loomed large overhead. And it would seem that as one trial ended, another begun. A guard flung the door open and ordered you to step out. Nervously you walked into the shadows. An unfriendly group awaited you. In their midst, for just a moment, a hooded figure was amongst them. But with a blink it was gone. You recognized several people. Ser Corlys Velaryon was bent over and looking far older than his years. Yet the moment he looked at you his eyes were alight with fury. He looked alarmingly, even in his age and state, like Vaeron. The dead prince whose execution you had urged had an unclear parentage. Had he truly been Rhaenyra's trueborn son? It mattered not now, he was dead like so many others. Flora, you one time friend, seemed unable to look at you. There was a sudden urge to leap and tear her hair out.

A man dressed in orange with three towers embossed in his doublet stepped forward. He was a Peake, although you knew nothing else. "Lady Y/n Tyrell. You are arrested for the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be lead to your place of residence and await trial." Your blood ran cold. You looked around, beseeching someone to step in. When none did you stammered; "I-never..." Lord Peake showed no sympathy to your plight. But your protests fell on deaf ears as knights seized you by the arms. Their cold metallic grasps bit sensitive skin sending shivers of horror up your spine. Yanked forward they hauled your nearly limp form inside. The doors slammed shut, cutting you off from the outside.

You were just down the hall from Dowager Queen Alicent. Her wails could be heald from your room. Despite your rooms posesing a feather bed, rug and fireplace, Maegor's Holdfast held a feeling of doom. Many had died in this place. King Viserys, Helaena all of House Harroway. This was a grim place despite monarchs using it as a place of residence. When living at Kings Landing you had never lived here. Serving Dowager Queen (then Queen Consort) Alicent had you residing in more hospitable areas.

Looking through the only window you could see Kings Landing far bellow. Pacing up and down the room you recalled every memory of this place. For so long the Red Keep had been home. Your most clear memories were of growing and living here. In there days there had been life and laughter. Never were you alone or given reason to grieve. How different it was now. Laughably so if it were not so tragic. You wondered what your room was being used for now. Did anyone use the alcove a young boy and girl once spent many hours? Every place you had used was closer than it had been for two years. Days had been spent serving the Queen, sewing by her hearth, tea parties, racing into the gardens and laughing with friends and all gathering together to whisper secrets.

It was true the few weeks before leaving had been nothing short of miserable. "I will never forgive Ellyn Baratheon. Never." You promised yourself. "May she dwell in the deepest darkest part of the Seven Hells." What that meant for your own soul you did not consider. Ellyn had blighted your life in Kings Landing and not even her death, horrid as it was, diminished your hatred. It was so easy to dwell on all the wrong rendered on you when locked alone with only thoughts for company. You wouldn't forgive anyone, not ever.

They had accused you of murdering Ellyn. A dark part of you wished it was true. To cause her just a fraction of the pain she caused you. Her death did not sadden you, horrible as it was. The ones whose deaths you truly cared about, Jaecerion, Lady Reyne, those deaths haunted you. You wondered if Jaecerion had ever gotten your letters. it was a torment to think he never learned of your accepting his hand.

That night you lay in bed, arms around a pillow. Burying you face into the pillow you imagined it was Jaecerion.

You had no idea as to when your trial would be. Being left in your own room you could do nothing but think of a rebuttal to these claims. No before for your cause had been presented, to your knowledge. Pacing around the room your mind raced trying to grasp anything of help. Your green dress felt heavy. Stripping it off you remained in an under shift. The day dragged on with only a maid coming in twice. Ellyn's death was not of your doing. But how you could go about defending your innocents you could not say. It might have helped had they told you how they supposedly died by your hand. That only left Vaeron. Now left to dwell on his death you felt uneasy. You were completely blameless in the case of the former. Vaeron's death was another matter. Had you not encouraged Jason Lannister to execute him? You have never liked Vaeron. Even as children both of you were at odds. Despite that his death brought no joy. Remembering his screams sent shivers up your spine.

The only book they had allowed was the Seven Pointed Star. As a child you had read it frequently and practically knew it heart by heart. Now you dared not touch it, as if the leather bound book world burn. Lonely it sat there, unopened. For days you were left alone with only Dowager Queen Alicent's cries for company. Of course there may be ghosts in Maegor's holdfast. How King Jaehaerys allowed the tower bearing the name of his families slayer to stand you did not know. "In his place I would have torn it down." Once you had admired the Conciliators mercy, now you only saw weakness. What was the point of being the most powerful person in the land of one could not do down their enemies? "If I were Queen I would gladly watch the light fade from their eyes."

When the door opened next you expected to see a maid. Instead Flora stepped in. For a moment you were taken aback. Once the two of you had been friends. As girls the two of you waited on Dowager Queen Alicent and played with Helaena. Poor Helaena who lay dead and gone like so many others. She was still the same slender brown haired, wide eyed girl. But she looked so different. A grave look adorned her face. Lines that had not been there now marred once flawless skin. She wore a black down that trailed behind. Suddenly it struck you as odd she wore black. Once none in the Green Queen's court never would have dared wear the colour. Yet as the Whore Queen's son sullied the throne you supposed wearing black was the order of the day.

"Y/n." Flora looked around looking unsure. Sitting up you face her. Despite her forlorn appearance Flora looked better than you. A lack of care for weeks on end had made you look utterly wretched. And wretched was what you were. The loss of everything had made you lesser than you ever were. Seeing no chair Flora chose to stand before you. "I hope you are well." Yet her words were unsure. Her pale skin went red, she knew the words were foolish. "Who sent you." This was hardly a question. You doubted that Flora had come of her own accord. She had been one of the first when that bitch Ellyn had turned her wrath upon you. Gone was the friendship of young sweet maiden girls, broken women remained. Youth had been stripped from both. At only one and twenty the pair of you looked much older than your years.

"They have sent me to speak with you, one woman to another. They hope I will inspire regret for Princess Ellyn's death." The outrageousness of this made you laugh. Stark white, Flora stood back. Like Dowager Queen Alicent's noises, yours echoed off the walls horribly. Falling back onto the sheets the cackling finally died in your throat. Soon you lay there panting. Exhausted, it took everything to sit up. Flora looked ready to bolt. "Leave then, and that your silly proclamations with you." Flora seemed to steal herself. "We all knew there was no love between you and the Princess. And I understand that she was not always kind but-" Once you might have held back. But bubbling hate simmered and was threatening to overflow. "Ellyn was a nasty little bitch who was good for nothing but warming a bed. And it would seem that she was not good at even that." Flora clutched at her dress.

"Please Y/n, I beseech you. Do not make the situation worse." Clearly distressed Flora surged towards you. With a steadfast grip she seized your fingers within hers. "Y/n I beg of you! They may give you a lighter sentence if you proclaim your guilt!" "Guilt! My only crime is being in the way of Jenna Tyrell! That woman has you all dancing in the palm of her cold hand! Do you not find it odd that all who stand in her way end up dead? They died with blue of their lips! And as for Ellyn she was ill well before I arrived."

Flora only let go and shook her head. Those brown eyes held only pity, but that did not mean there was no deceit. For all you knew Flora may be as treacherous as Jenna. "I am sorry Y/n. But there is nothing more I can do." With tears in her eyes she departed and once more you were left alone."

They had informed you that the trial would be held shortly before the coronation of Aegon, who would become Aegon third of his name. It had all been for nothing. The Greens had lost. While history would say Aegon the Second defeated his sister it was her son who sat the throne. Helaena's poor little girl would have to settle for Queen Consort. Women must stand aside so that men could rule. As a child you had been relieved of the right to head House Tarley. Only the death of all its male heirs had given you the seat. And Rhaenyra had been unseated by her brother. "Shut up." You told yourself.

Bellow in Kings Landing you could see preparations for the upcoming coronation. That was the only clue you had as to when your trial would take place. Aegon's coronation had been far less splendid, with only the dead as decorations thanks to Rhaenys's dragon littering the sept.

Day by day you waited for your fate. Rage had dissipated leaving behind exhaustion. A trial held no hope for you. Despite your naivety you knew this would not be fair. Those who hated you would lead it. All you could hope was that Owen was left safe. Jenna had no reason to kill him, he was betrothed to her granddaughter. Years from now, what would your son think? He would hardly remember you, him being shy of a year old. You prayed Owen would think kindly upon his mother. It was from him alone you prayed. "I know I am damned but I beseech you to protect him." To six of the seven you prayed, but never The Stranger. He was best avoided.

The day they called for you was grey and cold. A cold winter wind heralded the grim day. Grim tidings, a grimmer fate. You had a feeling something would happen today. Not necessarily your trial, but something. As a little girl Helaena would sometimes awake with a stony look upon her face. Cold as ice she lay ridged and scared. That was you today. Although no seer you sensed foreboding riding on wind.

A septa came in, the one who had slapped you. Unsympathetically you ordered you to stand. "Today you shall be judged for your sins." "I am accused, not guilty. Or are septas not taught the difference." Striding forward she struck you. "Dress. Then we leave." You were washed for the first time in ages. The water was cold sending shivers racketing through you frail body. Hair roughly brushed and dressed in grey you were made ready. They did not bind you, at least that humiliation was set aside. With two guards of either side you were left out. Passing by Dowager Queen Alicent's room you looked in through the iron bars. She lay on her bed, all regality abandoned. A green dress lay shredded on the floor leaving the former queen in only a shift.

The path was long and seemed to take forever. Thus suited you just fine who wanted this to take forever. But life was rarely so kind and after the long trek you stood in front of those great doors. Having seen trials before you had never expected to be here as a proclaimed traitor. A call went up and you saw the great hall. Suddenly you were afraid. The great hall was full. Down the hall awaited Ser Corleys and Cregan Stark (you only knew this because of his grey and black attire). Sitting on the chair was Aegon the Third. King Viserys had sat on this chair in happier times. The Aegon the Second when times were worse. A stand had been erected for you to stand on. Like the buzzing of flies the audience whispered. "Don't look at them." You simply focused on getting to the destination.

The hastily erected wooden stairs creaked harshly upon your assent. It took everything in you to not bolt for fear. The only thing keeping you sane were thoughts of Owen. Shaking hands grasped the railings. When you dared to raised your head their eyes all bore down upon you. Now you looked. At this point you noticed there was another stand. "Is another condemned?" You hoped it was not Lady Dara.

A staff slammed on the ground, making you jump. "Silence!" The herald cried. The silence was worse than the whispers. Every breath made was painfully loud. You half expected to faint. "Ser Corleys stepped forth. "Lady Y/n Lannister, born Tyrell, daughter of Lord Paramount Owen Tyrell and his Lady wife Amelia Tarley, widow of Lord Jason of Casterly Rock and mother of Lord Owen Tyrell, stand accused of the murder of Princess Ellyn and Prince Vaeron." Shaking hands clasped each other. Ser Corleys's voice broke on mention of Vaeron. The boy had likely been of his own blood. But then why not proclaim him instead of Rhaenyra's eldest by Harwin Strong?

"How do you plead?" Coldly you looked up at him. "I deny it." Ser Corleys and the lords convened amongst one another. When they broke apart Ser Corleys's attention was back on you. A scribe was writing everything down. "So you deny your wrongdoing?" They had already made up their minds. "I never killed anyone. Those who say otherwise are liars." His lip twitched. "Don't think about Vaeron." You tried to think of the boy he had once been. Rude and a horrid bully.

"We will start with the case of your first victim, Princess Ellyn of House Baratheon." Victim, hah! As if. Ellyn's family were in the crowd. Ladies Cassandra and Maris waited in the crowd. ""Lady Y/n Lannister, angered over Prince Aemond's spurns, killed his lady wife the princess." Lord Cregan Stark stepped up. Ser Corleys hobbled back and sat down. Upon Lord Starks chest was a pin. Grey eyes looked at you in judgment. "What right have you, whose wife has killed so many innocents." You did not say that aloud. "You are accused of Princess Ellyn's murder. And you plead not guilty?" "Yes." Lord Cregan Stark held a piece of parchment and opened it. "Lady Flora, step forth. Pale and stumbling, Flora made her way up the stairs. She looked not better than last time.

"Lady Flora, you were a lady in service to Dowager Queen Alicent, were you not?" Flora's voice trembled when she responded "yes". "And what was the relationship between the two women?" Flora looked to her hands. "Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n did not like each other. They were both jealous and often were harsh in words exchanged." You nearly spat. It was Ellyn who had the harsh words, not you. But you had a feeling Ellyn's true character would not matter in this trial. "Can you recall any interactions between the two?" Lord Stark's grey eyes were like a winter storm, cold and unyielding. Outside snow had started to fall. A cold breeze swept though the room. "When Lady Y/n was presented to the princess, she was unhappy. The princess I mean. It seemed Princess Ellyn had heard the rumors and questioned Lady Y/n on it. Lady Y/n denied any untoward knowledge of the prince. The princess took a ribbon given by the prince to Lady Y/n, and tore it." The scribe was frantically writing.

"Very well. Are there any others interactions you were privy to?" "Princess Ellyn often made comments about an affair in Lady Y/n's presence." Your belly sunk. She made it sound as if this affair was real, and not the imaginings of Ellyn. "And that is all?" Flora replied that "yes", that was all." Heart hammering in your hear, you though that Ellyn had not come off very well. Perhaps that would help your case. Lord Stark commanded Flora to sit before turning his cold eyes upon you. Even from this distance you could see the grey in them. It reminded you of the North, or rather pictures of it. In truth you had never been North and winter had only just come. Grey nights with only the howl of wind were foreign to you. But in that moment you wondered if Cregan Stark's eyes, which looked upon you with contempt, had brought a piece of the unfeeling North within them.

"Lady Y/n, do Lady Flora's account ring true?" "I...." It was a hard question to answer. What she said was true but the way in which she said it was less than desired. "Lady Y/n, I asked you a question." "Her words are true, but I feel my character had been besmirched." Cregan Stark raised an eye. "In what way?" "E-Princess Ellyn was in instigator. I provoked her in no way save my prior relationship with Prince Aemond." Cregan Stark let out something between a snort and sigh.

"Lady Y/n. We give you one final time to speak the truth. The Gods shall judge you, and so will we." You would find no pity here. Where was your defense? Who would speak for you? Only you could speak for yourself, and so you did. "My Lord, I swear upon both Gods Old and New that I speak only the truth." Lord Stark's fists clenched together. Despair clenched at your stomach. "On your head be it. Lady Tyshara of House Lannister, please step forth." You had not expected to see Tyshara again. Like her you had not but long since had your husbands eldest been cast from memory. Tyshara looked older now, golden hair cascading down her back. Lannister red hung her slender frame, familiar rubies glittering. For a moment the two of you looked at home another. Her cat like green eyes were no kinder than Stark's. Tyshara still held bitterness in her heart towards you.

"Lady Tyshara, you stand before this court and the Gods to bear witness against Lady Y/n. It is this courts understanding that you knew the lady when she was your stepmother." Tyshara nodded and then eagerly spoke. "Yes My Lord. Although I have no evidence that my stepmother killed the poor princess, I can attest to her hatred. She was very jealous of the princess and felt my father a poor replacement." Lucky that there was nothing in your path, or Tyshara may suffer from a case of flying object hitting head. You would add her to that list. "Can you sight any instances of Lady Y/n's displeasure?" Tyshara wasted no time in answering. "Yes My Lord. Shortly after her marriage to my father we went on a hunting trip. Us ladies went in a carriage. Princess Ellyn, Lady Y/n, my friend Katrina and myself were amongst them. I simply inquired as to their, that being Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n's, relationship. Lady Y/n was wroth with the reminder and said unkind things about the princess."

"And what was the nature of these unkind things?" Cregan Stark's Hand of the King pin glimmering in the light. For the first time a look of anxiety crossed Tyshara's pretty face. Green eyes no longer dared look at you. "I admit that the princess could have used kinder words. But her heart was broken My Lord. She was hurt by Lady Y/n's flaunting of her relationship with the prince. She attempted to silence Y/n but exposing her lust in front of us good ladies. Then some servant of hers cursed Princess Ellyn-" It finally became too much to bear. When Tyshara mentioned Elinor's name it was like reopening an old wound. Tyshara dared not look your way. But you looked at her with no much hate it stung your eyes. "Her. Name. Was. Elinor! And I suggest you learn it, or did your mother not teach you common courtesy before she died." Now she looked at you. Guards suddenly seized their weapons. Tyshara made to move but Lord Stark called out "cease!" so loudly everyone went ridged. "Lady Y/n you will remain silent until it is your turn!"

There was a ringing in your hears. Down to the depths of your soul a heartbeat raged. Nails cracked upon hard wood, blood trickling through nailbeds. Shaking, it took all you had to remain silent. Tyshara stood there condemning you for crimes she knew full well you had not committed. If there was any justice in the world you prayed Tyshara would one day receive it.

"Lady Tyshara, please continue your tale, what happened after the commotion?" "Once over the woman was dismissed from Lady Y/n's service. Then Princess Ellyn fled Casterly Rock." You laughed aloud, not even the heralds cry of "silence!" caused you to cease. A guard behind seized you by the arm. Forcing you to stay standing they waited in petrified silence. It ended in a raspy chuckle, leaving you aching. Lord Stark looked thunderous. If he could you had no doubt Lord Stark would have struck you down then and there. "Lady Y/n, if you interrupt again we will continue this trial without your presence." He took your silence for obedience. "Lady Tyshara, do you have anything else to say?" Tyshara nodded. "I was not in person for these conversations. However my father shared with me his...misgivings." Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. "Lord Lannister shared his personal matters with his daughter." A sliver of doubt that brought a ray of hope to you crept in. "My father and I were always close. As his eldest he felt that I could be relied on." Lord Stark looked between the pair of you. For the first time you were hopeful. The Starks were honorable to a fault, they always said so.

"My stepmother not only showed a close infinity for Prince Aemond, but his elder brother Prince Jaecerion. We saw them walking together. At one point she threatened me with the Silent Sisters. Prince Jaecerion was hopelessly in love with her, or at least infatuated."

"I was unaware if this relationship. Only Prince Aemond was mentioned. How do I know this is the truth?" And then Tyshara was commanded to depart. Members of Casterly Rock came forward. Those who had once served now provided testimony as to the close relationship with Jaecerion. Even Clarissa's own mother who provided as a witness during your short stay with her. You wondered if she blamed you for her daughters death. Those who had been your friends in Kings Landing also provided proof of your close affiliation with Jaecerion. But where was this leading? Did they mean to accuse you of adultery?

Lord Stark then commanded you to speak. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Lady Y/n?" There was no way around it. You had been friends with Jaecerion. But how to convince them that no affair had happened? "I admit that Jaecerion and I were close. But as close as two who grew up together. I was close with the children of Queen Alicent. By all the Gods I swear I never strayed from my marriage bed, and Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son." "My Lady, there is no doubt that Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son. But that does not discredit an affair. Many provide evidence of your indiscretions. Tell me, was your relationship with Jaecerion always simply as friends?" This gave you pause. Although your intentions with Jaecerion only occurred after Jasons death they might not believe you. "It was only as friends betwen us." Coldy, Lord Stark looked at you. "I will hold you to that."

Next up was Lady Maris Baratheon, Ellyn's sister. Unlike Ellyn she was shorter and with slightly lighter hair. But the moment your eyes met, storm blue and angry, you saw the similarities. "Lady Maris of House Baratheon, you are asked to provide testimony for the death of your sister Princess Ellyn." Lady Maris flinched ever so slightly during the last part. Hands flinched, digging into fine yellow silk. "You were with Princess Ellyn when she passed." "Yes, My Lord." Lady Maris replied. "Do you recall Lady Y/n's behavior at the funeral?" "I do. Comforting my good brother, Lady Y/n was most unhappy. Although we never talked everyone knew she desired Prince Aemond. My Lord, it is my belief that my sister was poisoned by Lady Y/n." "Enough!" Lord Stark cut Lady Maris off. Lady Maris was afterwards dismissed, not even sparing you a glance.

Next, Maester Whells came up next. It seemed all of Harrenhal had been summoned for this sham of a trial. Slowly he hobbled up. "Maester Whells, you served Harrenhal during Lady Y/n's stay. Is this correct?" The man nodded his head doggedly. "I was." "And you tended the Princess Ellyn during her illness?" "Yes My Lord" "And what would you say the cause of death was?" "Poison." There was a gasp. All eyes were on you. Cold sweat ran down your back. "My Lord, may I speak?" You though Lord Stark might say no, but thankfully he gave his consent. "Ell-Princess Ellyn was ill before I arrived. Those in Harrenhal can attest to that." Lord Stark turned back to the maester. "What do you say to this?" Maester Whells scratched his chin. "It is true that Princess Ellyn showed signs ofillnes before the arrival of Lady Y/n. However her worst symptoms appeared once the lady arrived." Maester Whells drew a small vial. Black liquid oozed behind the glass, sluggish and murky. "This is called the Windows Tears. I found traces of it in Princess Ellyn."

They called in Ellyn's ladies, all who insisted you killed their mistress but were forced to admit that she was ill beforehand. Perhaps you would be found innocent after all. Maybe Lord Stark would think you were innocent after all.

"Bring the poisoner in!" The great door opened and an old decrepit man was forced in. They hauled him up the stairs, chains clattering. At least you had remained unbound. "Gerald, occupation, poisoner, you provided Prince Jaecerion with this very poison. Is that correct." It was not even a question. “Jaecerion procured poison? For what reason……oh Gods!” A terrible thought dawned on you. In truth you had never given much thought to the manner in which Ellen died. But puking out black bile was hardly natural, even you knew that. Could Jaecerion have poisoned Ellen? He certainly held no love for his brother’s wife. But hate her enough to kill? Jaecerion had loved you on the other hand? Had he slain her for your sake? “Oh “Jaecerion.”

“And for what reason did Jaecerion purchase this poison?” Maester Whells briefly looked at you. Dread sunk like a stone in your belly. “To poison the Princess Ellyn.” More than murmuring swept through court. With Ellyn died by Jaecerion’s hand you looked all the more guilty. “But they have to proof.” You thought in an attempt to comfort yourself. That thought quickly dissipated when it was remembered that your fate had already been decided. This trial was a sham, simply for show.

Lord Stark stepped closer, hard eyed examining the maester. “And for what reason would Prince Jaecerion have for murdering his good-sister?” Once more Maester Whells glanced at you. Lord Stark’s jaw clenched. “He misliked the way Princess Ellyn was treating the Lady Y/n.” “So he resorted to murder for women’s quarrels?” If you could you would have hit Lord Stark. What did he know of this matter?! Women’s quarrels indeed. “Do you happen to know if Lady Y/n was involved in any way?” Maester Whells shook his head. “If he did Prince Jaecerion never conveyed it to me.” With that Maester Whells was dismissed, banished from his order and to await further judgment.

“Lady Cerilla of House Florent.” You nearly collapsed. Why her?! Cerilla would do her best to trust the story against you. Unlike the previous witnesses Cerilla did not look somber or angry. While every move was measured you could see the unmistakable gleam in her eyes. Today she wore a deep rich green in the likeness of Jenna.

‘You know the Lady Y/n?’ ‘Yes My Lord. We both served under former Queen Alicent.’ ‘They say you two knew each other quite well. What gave you your say?’ Unlike Flora, Cerilla showed no hesitation or anxiety, but plunge right in for the attack. ‘I will admit that our relationship had always been cold. My elder sister married the Lord of Highgarden and Lady Y/n never forgave it.’ The outright audacity of her statement nearly knocked you senseless. The absolute audacity! ‘And what would you say the relationship between Lady Y/n and Princess Ellen was like?’ ‘Hostile, My Lord. Lady Y/n became close with the witch Alys Rivers at Harrenhal and taunted Princess Elly for her fertility struggles. As many know it caused her great pain, and Lady Y/n relished in that.’Your hands clenched. Of course she left out all the times Ellyn taunted you.

"Can you recall any conversations?" ‘Yes.’ And then Cerilla drew herself up to get full height, readying herself with the performance. “My Princess was distraught over Lady Y/n’s disrespect. Angered, Lady Y/n said….oh….. it was so horrible!” Fake tears flooded Cerilla’s eyes. They fool everyone, everyone except you.

Cerilla then quoted; ‘“I predict this, you envy and hatred will dry up your womb! For how can such a hateful woman as you ever give life.” And the poor princess was distraught. But Lady Y/n did not stop there. “I forget nothing and I will forgive nothing. The humiliation you dealt upon me. I pray that this is a curse from the Gods, and let me lay down one of my own. I pray to all the Gods that you, Ellyn Baratheon, will remain barren as you are now. Let the Gods strike you with every misery in this world, and let me witness it to my great satisfaction.”

The courtroom was eerily silent. One could hear a pin drop, if they listened hard enough. You yourself could hardly breathe. In truth you had meant those words. And even though Ellyn was well in the ground your hatred remained. Hatred that was your constant companion.

All eyes were on you. Even though your back was turned judgmental could be felt. Lord Stark turned to you once more. Somehow his gaze was colder and sharp like the famous blade his house owned. “Lady Y/n, what have you to say to these charges?” Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. Trembling, you attempted to get every word out. ‘Ellyn Baratheon held no love for me, that is true. But she was always unkind and accused me of that which I am innocent of.’ ‘But did you say them?’ ‘Yes.’ It did not matter your reason. Either way you were condemned.

‘There is more.’ Cerilla was not done. Even with the sound of victory Cerilla’s hatred could not be quenched. After the death of Prince Vaeron, Princess Ellyn chastised Lady Y/n over the boys death. In retaliation my princess was threatened. ‘And what did she say?’ Finally Cerilla looked at you. There was hatred, joy , satisfaction and victory in her look. And when she spoke it was not to Lord Stark, but you. ‘“Have you wondered why you have never fallen with child? You allowed a woman you hated near you. Allowed me to handle your robes, drinks and cakes. I reigned freely over every morsel that entered your mouth. How easy it would have been to simply slip something in.’”

The room filled with a light buzzing. Then it increased in pitch and you heard yelling. Lady Baratheon collapsed to the floor. For what seemed like forever the world was shouting and screams. You cared not for what they said. A light buzz surrounded you. ‘Owen.’ You murmured. You would never see him again in this life. Of that you were now sure.

Cerilla was dismissed followed by various ladies. None of them you knew well, only that they served Ellyn and were companions of Cerilla. You recognized a few. Lady Swann whom you had chastised for spreading around news of Clarissa’s pregnancy, Lady Dondarrion whom had been her companion in spreading the information. And on and on it went. All your enemies, no friends.

You already knew the outcome. They would all believe that you killed Ellyn, in collusion with Jaecerion. Jaecerion being Ellyn’s killer gave you a mixed feeling. Oddly enough there was a warmth inside of you. Someone had loved you so much they killed. And you had never treated him with the same regard. On the other hand Jaecerion killing donrone sent a chill down your spine. Of course people died in war. But Ellyn had not been a hardened warrior. Then again you bore her only hatred.

You did not hear the verdict, even if you knew the outcome. They then moved on the the next if you “victims”. ‘Lady Y/n, you stand accused of encouraging the death of Prince Vaeron Velaryon. What have you to say about this?’ Nervously your hands clenched themselves. ‘My Lord, Prince Vaeron was at war. Every man places himself at that risk.’ Shaking, you attempted to maintain composure. ‘Prince Vaeron did not die in battle, did he? An unarmed prisoner it is said you ordered his death.’ A small flame of indignant anger leapt. ‘My husband was his own man.’ ‘And yet they say you convinced him to harm the prince. This was not war but murder.’ Suddenly eyes turned to Ser Corys. An old man, getting up looked agonizing. Yet there was fire in his eyes. He made his way to Lord Stark who seemed to find it prudent to step aside.

‘I urge the court to remember that my grandson did not go the way of fire and blood. He was cruelly slain like Lucerys Velaryon. And this woman in her malice was behind it!’ A shaking finger pointed at you. And then, grief stricken, Ser Corleys lumbered back to his chair. All the great lords and ladies watched him. In his day Ser Corleys was a thing of legend. Even when those golden days had passed he still consider admiration, even in enemies. Lord Stark, realizing he was done, ordered a maester to hand him a note. ‘Lady Y/n, your husband wrote to Lady Jenna after the deed.’ He had? Another thing that had been hidden from you. ‘He writes that it was you who put the idea into his head. What have you to say?’ Bringing up Jenna’s name had stirred something within you. ‘It was Lady Jenna who put these thoughts into my head. She said it was the only way I would be safe.’ ‘Do you have proof?’ Of course not, you had burned the letter destroying any decency that might save you. It at least condemn Jenna. Only you would take the blame.

They went back to the evidence on your and Jaecerions relationship. And Jaecerion; ‘oh Jaecerion’ you thought. Aching pierced your heart. He had lived you. Memories of him as a boy, safe and happy, were a torment and comfort. If only everything could have stayed that way.

‘Lady Cerilla.’ Again?! Remorseless she walked back up. Unlike you she’d had time to fresher up for her next battle. Or rather slaughter. ‘You are here to provide witness for the charges of murder. You were at Highgarden when Lady Y/n resided there.’ ‘Yes My Lord.’ ‘And would you say Prince Jaecerion and Lady Y/n were close?’ ‘Yes My Lord. They have been close since childhood and their relationship had grown stronger.’ ‘He was often in her presence?’ ‘When he not in meeting with Lady Jenna, yes.’ ‘Did you ever overhear a conversation between the two?’ ‘Only once My Lord. It was the day Y/n and Prince Jaecerion arrived. I had been sent up to assist her when I caught them in an embrace.’ Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. ‘What type of embrace?’ ‘The type only a man and woman enamored with each other could share. They looked alarmed and I quickly fled.’ Talking again. This time the spectators were more bold. Blocking out the noises you stared ahead. ‘It will be over soon.’ You thought.

‘Bring the letters.’ A small wooden box was brought out. Opened, Lord Stark pulled out a letter. In the light a familiar green stamp glimmered in the light. Where had he gotten that?! ‘Lady Y/n, you revived a letter from Prince Jaecerion after the death of Prince Aemond.’ You nodded. Where was this going? ‘He also mentions the disappearance of Prince Aemond’s whore Alys Rivers. An odd detail. Do you know why he put it in?’ You could not say. Everything was so confusing it sent your head spinning. ‘What was the nature of your relationship with Alys Rivers?’ You chose the response that might serve you best. ‘She showed me kindness during my pregnancy. Do you fault me for finding comfort during such a time?’ ‘No I do not. However we recon she did more than provide assistance for a pregnant woman.’ You did not know how to respond to this. What did he want you to say?

‘Lady Y/n, several months ago you accused Alys Rivers of witchcraft, causing her to flee. What transpired between the two of you?’ The memory was shameful. Even now you regretted it. So confused and frightened had you been. Alta’s help would have been greatly needed. And after all her help you related her poorly. Was she still mad? You would be in her situation. And her being with child made it worse. ‘It was so long I hardly remember. A disagreement.’ Lord Stark looked unfazed. ‘So you simply accused her of witchcraft for…?’ He was waiting for an answer that could not easily come. After stuttering and then falling into silence Lord Stark moved on. ‘So you agree that the pair of you were close?’ ‘Yes.’ The scribe was hurriedly scribbling so fast you thought his hand like to fall off.

‘Alys Rivers belongings were searched after her disappearance. Fortunately a few items still survive for investigation. Do you know what we found?’ A horrible sickening feeling swelled up. Had Alys been involved in Ellyn’s death? Lord Stark was handed a small vial filled with blue liquid. With a jolt you realized, or rather suspected, what this was. Jenna's poison. Not the same that had killed your parents, but poison never the less! Had she not indiced poison that had killed your parents, Lady Mari and Jaecerion. ‘That is not mine!’ Frantically you looked around the room. Perhaps it was to spot a friendly face. Or a plea for someone to believe you. None came. ‘It was Lady Jenna’s! She poisoned my parents and Lady Mari, she killed Jaecerion!’ Stunned into silence everyone just looked at you. Even Lord Stark seemed struck dumb.

The wood under your shaking, sweating palms was cold. Your jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. Every breath felt loud as a dragons roar. Klink….klink.

The scrubbed ink bottle had slipped down the stone stares. Startled, he immediately got up. In a moment it felt like a spell was lifted. Now you could hear everyone else breathe and it was terribly hot. ‘That….that is quite the accusation.’ Lord Stark had stopped glaring at you. Only plain shock was on his face. Then someone cleared their throat and Lord Stark found his senses. ‘Is there tree any evidence for this?’ ‘I remember my father dying in a similar manner, and both the prince and my lady died the same way.’ Even if what you said made no sense you had to get it out. It was like vomiting, expelling deep rancid contents all over the floor. And its stench revolted anyone. Lord Stark looked at if a madwoman were speaking. ‘We will have no more of this. The evidence speaks for itself. Lady Y/n this poison was found in Alys Rivers positions. It is confirmed that Princess Ellyn died this way. Send for the rest.’ The box was once more brought out.

The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. Here you were at trial while Jenna got away. You wondered how long she had been planning this. Every step you took had benefited her. Then again those were not truly your steps, rather Jenna pushing you along the path. You would go the same way as your parents, unavenged. Was Jenna here? If you had a knife you would like to rip her right open with it. And watching her crimson blood flood to the floor you would have laughed.

‘Your next letter says “Please return to my side soon”, what gave you your say to this?’ ‘Only that I missed him greatly.’ You replied truthfully. Lord Stark placed the letter aside. It then occurred to you ‘why did he have the letter?’. ‘Was marriage ever spoken of between you two?’ Anxiously you dithered, this was a trap. While admitting wanting to marry the prince was not guilty in itself it could easily be twisted into something sinister. ‘It was discussed. But I swear that was it.’ Lord Stark observed the letter. ‘“I hope when the false queen is dead you will return to me, and think of my proposition.” What sort of proposition?’ ‘Marriage, My Lord.’ ‘But why the wait? It sounds as if you did not immediately accept. Unless this proposition was something other than marriage?’ There it was again, another attempt to make you look guilty. Then an idea suddenly hit you. ‘My Lord, are there any other letters?’ But when Lord Stark curtly replied ‘no’ your heart sank. The final letter you sent to Jaecerion not only mentioned marriage, but Jenna. If Jenna’s name was found amongst your plans then just maybe they would think her guilty too.

But luck was never on your side. Lord Stark summoned the lords together. Everyone else sat, anticipating what may happen next. With bated breath your hands clenched wood with so much strength it could have cracked.

Finally, the lords broke apart and with a grim look Lord Stark faced you. Even before the words were said you knew the outcome. ‘Lady Y/n Tyrell, you are herby found guilty of the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be taken to the place of imprisonment and dwell there till the end of your days.’

Notes: We are nearly at the end of part one. After this there will be one more chapter and then an epilogue. I am already working on part two.

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[crownrots]

🐉 eraesella storm (hotd) | ❄️ myranda stark of maidens mouth (hotd)

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TAGGED BY @laiostoudenn to use this picrew, thank you! 🤎

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[racefortheironthrone]

Why do you think the Westerlands Houses answered Tywin’s summons to crush the Reynes and Tarbecks? He wasn’t the Lord of Casterly Rock or acting lord like Robb they had no obligation to answer his call to arms. Hell if anything Tywin was launching a silent coup against his father when he decided to wage war against the Reynes and Tarbecks.

There's two main reasons:

Tywin is still the heir to Casterly Rock - and is effectively the acting lord, since Tytos hadn't countermanded his actions (as he had done in the past) and had mostly ceased to actively govern without appointing anyone else to rule in his stead - and thus the lords are going to want to be on his good side for when he does inherit the title.

More importantly, the Reynes and Tarbecks had fucked with the other Lesser Houses as well as House Lannister. The landed knights and lords whose lands Walderan Tarbeck had seized by force? House Marbrand, who had lost their lord and hundreds of their men to Roger Reyne's ambush? House Prester, who had had two of their sons kidnapped by Ellyn Tabreck? All the landed knights and Lesser Houses who had fought private wars against the Reynes, the Tarbecks, and their vassals? These people all had reason to hate the Reynes and Tarbecks and want them brought down.

So yeah, the Reynes and Tarbecks mishandled the political side of their revolt by focusing on Tytos Lannister to the exclusion of everyone else - if you're going to try to overthrow your liege lord, you want your peers onside first.

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

Wanted Site Connection

The eldest daughter of Lord Borros and Lady Elenda Baratheon, Cassandra is 21, and the presumptive heir to storms end. Known to all as a graceful and feminine young Lady, Cassandra takes a special delight in the courtly life, especially when it comes to the rewards of it. Her charm and wit gain the attention of others, and she is constantly surrounded by a large group of her close friends and lovers. Her parents praise her endlessly due to her ability to gain this public attraction. Some whisper the favoritism her parents show her has turned her into a an ungrateful and vicious young Lady, demanding for anything she wants and becoming angry when it is not given to her. Her relationships with her sisters are more cold than not, and Cassandra has been said to show a special hatred towards Maris for reasons unknown to the court. Her position as heir seems to be shakey, even with the extreme love of her parents, and rumor has it that one of her Uncles is destined to replace her, causing her to have a sour relationship with them. Suggested faceclaim: Amy James-Kelly in Blood, Sex, and Royalty

Note: Character traits, faceclaim, and details are suggestions and can be reworked to a certain extent if discussed with the current members of the RP!

Cassandra Baratheon is particularly wanted by her sisters, Maris Baratheon, Ellyn Baratheon, and Floris Baratheon, as well as by Princess Jocelyn Baratheon-Targaryen, Princess Baela Targaryen, Ser Jon Swann, and Cerelle Lannister

We are a No-Dance!AU and politics, family, and court-drama focused RP. To join, check out our main site, and find out who our court would like to see most on our Most Wanted Page, send us a raven with any questions and once you're ready apply, and then join us for plotting and OOC-chat on our Discord!!

home — wanted — directory — apply — discord — message — q & a

[sansacherie]

Francesca Bridgerton/Hannah Dodd as Sansa Stark, aged 19.

Hyacinth Bridgerton/Florence Hunt as Arya Stark

Marina Thompson/Ruby Barker as Jeyne Westerling

Violet Thompson/Ruth Gemmell as Lyarra Stark

Cressida Cowper/Jessica Madsen as Cersei Lannister, aged 21.

Kate Sharma/Simone Ashley as Arianne Martell

Genevieve Delacroix/Kathryn Drysdale as Ellaria Sand

Eloise Bridgerton/Claudia Jessie as Ellyn Baratheon, aged 18

Abigail Evans/Olivia Barrowclough as Elinda Massey

Kitty Langham/Celine Buckens as Jeyne Arryn

Portia Featherington/Polly Walker as Elenda Baratheon

Penelope Featherington/Nicola Coughlan as Helaena Targaryen

casting bridgerton characters as asoiaf characters

[atopvisenyashill]

A Mistress of Whispers: Queer Histories of Essosi Witches and their Westerosi Patronessess; written by Maester Ellard

-> Chapter Six: The Winds of Winter: Catelyn Stark and Samaira of Lys

What if Brown Ben Plumm was a sexy widowed witch mom who became besties with a High Born Lady, in this case Catelyn Stark, as Essosi gentleladies are known to do? Or well Brown Ben Plumm’s cousin, anyways-

The Walder Frey pictured here is in fact Big Walder Frey, of “murdering Little Walder Frey” fame. Humfrey Hightower, Joy Penrose, Viserys Plumm, and everyone in Catelyn’s house hold & court are canon characters. Except for Teora, who is on the Northern map bc Jocelyn Stark was her grandma. There are some husbands missing but idc about them.

arya to myranda: if you’re one of the first men how come you’re white?

sansa: seven hells arya you can’t just ask people why they’re white.

Chapter Index for the book

Cruel Bedfellows: Tyanna of Pentos, Alys Harroway, and the reign of Maegor Targaryen

The Whore on High Hill: Rhaenyra Targaryen and Mysaria of Lys

Jenny’s Ghost: Duncan Targaryen, Jenny of Oldstones, and The Mysterious Ghost

The Lace Serpent: On Questions About Serala of Myr

The Queen’s Favor: Cersei Lannister and Taena of Myr

The Winds of Winter: Catelyn Stark and Samaria of Lys

The Serpents of Gulltown: Myranda Arryn and Lessella of Norvos

picture maester ellard like

he puts forth a theory that the ghost of high heart was a slave from volantis. he highly suggests something romantic between jenny and her ghost. he implies denys darklyn was a cross dresser - first draft outright stated it but the archmaester said he can’t print that about a westerosi lord, only the essosi ones so he rewrote it to be implied. he does use she pronouns for ellyn. he does not use he pronouns for amalios. he tastefully accuses taena of killing ned, jon arryn, joffrey, and kevan.

[goodqueenaly]

By the time of the series Catelyn whilst always conscious of her origins as a Tully of Riverrun is also mostly comfortable as Lady Stark and wholly committed to her Stark children. Meanwhile you have Cersei, Johanna Westerling and Sansa's own marriage where everyone involved has very strong and contrasting opinions on how marriage affects their identity and duty to the house they married into. I wonder does a highborn girl's education explicitly cover bridging this gap in their expected future?

I mean this has been the hell of dynastic marriage for as long as dynastic marriage has existed (and has been as true in real-world history as it is in Westeros). The point of a dynastic marriage, often times, is to unite two Houses for political advantage or in a show of some level of political unity; the expectation is that the children of this union, carrying the blood of both dynasties, will be the living symbols of this alliance. There is often as well a secondary expectation that the lady or princess so married will use her position (especially if she is married to a lord or king) in order to advance her birth family’s position, securing positions and other favors from whatever court or family she has married into for relatives by birth.

Yet while a highborn girl’s education usually includes lessons in heraldry (in order to identify the key power players of the realm) and games like come-into-my-castle (in order to reinforce the hierarchical relationships among these families), little else might be ordinarily expected by any given highborn Westerosi girl prior to her marriage. Often (though by no means always) raised among their birth families until the times of their marriages, and sometimes unaware of whom they will marry until relatively late in, or indeed after, their educations (thanks in part to shifts that can occur in Westerosi political alliances, as Sansa herself experienced), highborn Westerosi daughters may come to their marriages with little to no training on how to balance the interests of their birth families and those of their marital families. Too, because these are marriages of people as well as dynasties, individual personalities can shape and shift the outcomes of such unions.

Nor are these situations always easy to manage even apart from the lack of such training. After Lysa Arryn , for example, disappointed the hopes of blue-blooded Vale aristocrats by marrying Littlefinger and naming him Lord Protector, Lord Hunter commented that “Lysa Tully was never truly of the Vale, nor had she the right to dispose of us”, linking her foreignness to (so he saw it) her inability to rule properly as Robert Arryn’s regent. If Lelia Lannister, to take another example, might have easily transitioned from princess of Casterly Rock to queen of the Iron Islands as the wife of the xenophile, pro-mainlands, Faith-following King Harmund II Hoare (with the ability to advise him and their elder son in such interests), she would have found her position substantially and brutally altered in the reign of her usurping, fundamentalist-leaning second son, Hagon Hoare. If Ellyn Reyne, for still another example, enjoyed a “reign of Reynes” as de facto Lady of Casterly Rock, Tion’s death and, relatedly, her lack of a child by him left her unable to assert such dominance within House Lannister going forward, and open to a forced remarriage with substantially less opportunity for advancement in the Westerlands. These are just a few examples, of course, but the point stands that dynastic marriages are not always easily navigated by the women and girls for whom they are made.