#fem jon snow

[nynaeve-mashiara]

Important context; Jon Snow is born a girl, and known to the world as Alysanne Stark, Brandon's legitimized bastard by Ashara Dayne. She knows her true parentage.

I wanted to share this because I am nowhere near sharing the full fic, but I am so proud of the "Elenei's get" part.

-

Alysanne stood in the waycastle Sky, flanked by Naerys Velaryon and Jorelle Mormont, Uncle Arthur behind her as her ever present defensive shadow. Ghost had insisted on going in the basket that took Quentin, Brandon, and his nursemaid up to the Eyrie, and Cousin Gabrelle had gone up with Torrhen and Elia.

Mya Stone occupied her thoughts, in the commotion of the waycastle. Robert Baratheon’s eldest bastard, a woman three years her senior. The girl-child which made Alysanne’s own mother find her betrothed more disagreeable than she already did, disinterested in marriage as she had been. She was certain he would never keep to her bed, never show her the fidelity and honour she was expected to show him. Love could not change a man’s nature, was her tenet. Uncle Ned claimed his old friend saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath.

Had it not been for Mya Stone, Lyanna Stark might have accepted her fate as Lady Baratheon of Storm’s End. The chance was slim, true, but not non-existent. If not for Mya, she herself might not have been born. There might have been no War of the Usurper.

She shook her head slightly, dislodging the thought. Mya had been an innocent child, was an innocent woman, who could no more control her parentage than anyone else. If her birth should at all be considered in the causation, the fault should lie at Robert’s feet. No, the catalyst of the war had always been the unlawful execution of Brandon Stark, the heir to the North, and the demand that his father and two younger brothers also pay with their lives for the insult he had brought Prince Rhaegar. If only the Kingslayer had acted earlier, all the bloodbath might have been avoided. If only Summerhall had not burned. If only Duncan had not abdicated for Jenny of Oldstones. If only Uncle Aemon had not been sent to the Citadel. If only, if only, if only. If only Maegor had not been cruel.

Mya’s short hair and riding leathers caught her eye as she arrived with another party, her on the lead mule. It was unmistakeable, that she was a Baratheon. Mya Stone, Mya Magnarsdaughter. More similar to her uncle Renly than her father, now he had tripled in size from his youth, but it was said Renly greatly resembled a young Robert. She had the hair, the eyes, the stature. Yet by a fluke of birth, Mya was a bastard instead of a princess. A king’s daughter, none the less. A storm made flesh, Elenei’s get. A mix of fire and water as much as Alysanne herself, rain and sea-water to her ice and snow.

Did she even know? The only of Robert’s bastards who were acknowledged as such was Edric Storm, and him only because his mother was a lady of house Florent. Alysanne snorted. Just like her. Grandfather had said that when Robert legitimized her, he had observed that she would have been his niece, if Lyanna had survived. That he had looked at her with wistful eyes, envisioning his own half-Stark children. Had he thought of Mya, at the time? Spared a thought for his at the time only known child?

It was not often she ruminated on the lie that was her acknowledged parentage and supposed baseborn status. Her parents were discussed often enough, to remark that she had her mother’s grace and beauty, and her father’s wolfblood, his wildness, though hers was more bridled. Two factions in the North let comments about her legitimized status come; the Dornish, who treated it as a base fact, and Lady Catelyn and her ladies, who still felt it a dishonour she was born and a slight that she was legitimized. Now she had turned twenty and had an heir, a spare, and a daughter, wed to a Prince of Dorne, most Northerners did not remark on the circumstances of her legitimacy.

Now her grandfather, step-grandmother, Lady Catelyn, and Lord Edmure were herded into the basket along with a gaggle of Lady Stark and Lady Catelyn’s ladies. What Alysanne wouldn’t give for Winterwing, to ascend to the Eyrie as her namesake had done, during the Conquest. Even the ascent by mule had frustrated her beyond all sense. She could have walked with the same speed as her mule, if not with as sure a footing.

“I am certain we are slated for the next basket, my lady.” Naerys said. Her friend always could read her far too well.

“As you say, yet I am not fond of being separated thus from my children.” She said, as she observed Harrion Karstark out of the corner of her eye, as he aided his wife, Elyanne Karstark, born Burley, off her mule.

She let her connection to Ghost open enough that she could borrow her eyes, and smiled at what she saw. The direwolf had coiled herself around Torrhen, Elia, and Brandon the way wolves did to protect their pups against the elements. She was currently embroiled in a staring match with Bronze Yohn Royce, who to his credit did not look away. They had not yet had their wolves, when he guested Winterfell on his way to escort Ser Waymar to the Wall. The guards in Arryn blue around the walls of the room looked on her with badly disguised terror. Quentyn was petting her head.

“I will not have that beast in my hall!” a woman shrieked.

Ghost swivelled her head to the noise, pinpointing the source. Lady Lysa Arryn, Lady Catelyn’s sister. The woman had not aged gracefully in the seven years since Alysanne had seen her in Winterfell. She looked a decade older than her three year elder sister, with her red hair tumbling down her back, dressed in a mourning gown of silk with the Arryn moon-and-falcon embroidered in pearls.

Alysanne clutched at Naerys and Jorelle’s hands, to signal they might need to lead her into the basket.

“I assure you, Lady Arryn, Ghost is more docile and better behaved than all the hunting hounds in Winterfell. She will not be separated from my lady wife or our children.” Quentyn said in his most appeasing voice.

Lady Lysa seemed ready to enter a tirade. Thankfully, Lord Royce butted in.

“I had heard rumours that the Starks had bonded to them direwolves, but I did not put much stock in them. This would be Lady Alysanne’s wolf, then?”

“Aye, Ghost, the best child wrangler you could wish for. Lady Marna’s Midnight, Lord Hoster’s Guardian, Lord Rodrik’s Sentinel, and Lord Edwyle’s Builder will also be joining us.”

“They are truly docile?”

“They do not attack unless their humans are threatened. A party of wildlings descended on their travelling party when Lord Stark and Lady Alysanne went to visit Barrowtown two years ago, when Lord Torrhen and Lady Elia were six moons old. The guards took down four of them; Ghost the remaining seven.” Quentyn said, scratching in a spot that made Ghost pant in pleasure with her tongue lolling out of her great maw. “Else she herds children, takes up the entirety of the front of the hearth, observes the sheep and goats with great interest, and acts as footwarmer in our marriage bed. Thankfully it was built to accommodate at least eight people at the height of winter.”

Alysanne scoffed.

“Must he mention she sleeps in our bed?” she asked in the Old Tongue.

“Have you started emulating my mother, Sanne?” Jorelle asked.

“I do prefer my Dornish sun, Elle, but if I were to do as your mother, Ghost would not do. She is female.”

Jorelle huffed a small laugh.

Alysanne withdrew her senses from Ghost’s as they were herded into the basket. Quentyn seemed to be on top of the situation, and grandfather would be there momentarily. Uncle Arthur herded her into the middle of the basket, placing himself, Jorelle, Naerys, Edwyle, and Builder protectively around her. Paranoid git.

“Are you afraid of heights, Uncle Arthur?” she asked.

He simply grunted in reply. She sent him a shit-eating grin.

[eddieheart]

Fem Jon Snow got me

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[cruel-seduction]

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

[icediamonds]

This is amazing thanks for the food

Out of curiosity, how would you handle a writing a fic where Jon is a girl and still having Jonsa happen? Would fem!Jon go to King's Landing with Sansa, Ned, and Arya? Or stay back at Winterfell with Bran, Robb, Rickon, and Catelyn??

tbh, I see Jon (let’s call her Jonelle here, for readers’ sake, though really Ned would probably name Lyanna’s daughter after like Branda or Arya or some other Northern name lbr) as marrying fairly early in this world- probably to a guy like Lord Torrhen’s bastard son. Or someone in the Neck to keep her secret Targ-heritage safe. Or Ramsay but pls lets not do that to ourselves. Catelyn likely wants her out of Winterfell, girls tend to mature quicker than guys, and Jonelle can bind the Starks to another family without too much fuss.

But let’s say that Ned’s as avoid-until-it-smacks-you-in-the-face-prone as he is in canon, and Catelyn softens a little towards this girl who doesn’t really represent as much of a threat to her trueborn children, and Jonelle remains in Winterfell until Robert Baratheon rides North.

Seguir leyendo

[velvety-cherryy]

My Mess

He's got me fucked, in the best ways A charming mess, flawed to perfection Doesn't exist, but I'm ready to fight Anyone who dares to say a word against him, day or night

I know it's fucked up, I'm out here dreaming Of someone who's not real, but who cares? He's mine on my terms, no messy reality No awkward dates, no risking my heart's sanity

He's always there when I need him, a constant high I'm never disappointed, just flying, never saying goodbye Maybe I'm a little crazy, but I've never felt more alive He's my mindfuck, my guilty pleasure, my forever thrill ride

(For every girl who is in love with fictional men)

[m9yaa]

── .✦INNOCENCE; PETYR BAELISH ⟡˖ ࣪

part 1, part 2, part 3

⟡˖ ࣪ pairing: petyr baelish x fem!stark reader

⤷cw: mature content, innocence/corruption kink?, unprotected sex, age gap, power dynamic?, aged up characters, groping (non con kinda), sexual tension, sexual innuendo,

⤷summary: in which, petyr baelish seems to take an interest in you, catelyn’s and ned’s eldest daughter after the hand of the king’s arrival at king’s landing.

REQ! also not proof read!

⋮

with the help of serene, you finished getting ready.

your hair was kept simple, a half up half down style.

the dress choice of today was a pink gown with floral stitching and embroidery etched into the shoulders, neckline and mid way down your arm sleeve. it was a simple choice but a very classy and elegant one at that.

heading downstairs, the soft clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation greeted you as you entered the dining hall. Your family was already gathered, seated at the long wooden table. They barely noticed your arrival, busy with their morning meal.

“Good morning, milady,” a servant greeted, giving you a small bow. You nodded in acknowledgment, trying to keep your composure, though inside you couldn’t shake the unease from the night before.

As you made your way to your seat, your gaze flickered over to where Lord Baelish was seated at the far end of the table. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, and the intense, knowing look he gave you made your stomach flip. You quickly averted your gaze, feeling the warmth of your face spreading.

“You seem quiet this morning,” your father remarked, raising an eyebrow as you sat down. “Something on your mind?”

You forced a smile, trying to push down the swirling thoughts in your head. “No, nothing at all,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

Breakfast passed in a blur of conversation, but you were distracted by the strange tension in the air, and the way Lord Baelish occasionally turned his gaze toward you. You couldn’t help but notice how his attention seemed to linger longer than it should, and the air around you seemed to grow thicker.

Finally, as breakfast came to a close, your father rose from his seat, signaling that it was time to leave. The javelin match was about to begin, and you would be accompanying the family to watch the contest. It was an event that promised excitement, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your mind was elsewhere.

You pushed open the door, stepping outside into the crisp morning air, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. Your thoughts remained jumbled, swirling in confusion. Had it just been the proximity? The heat of the moment? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt unsettled, and it was a feeling you couldn’t ignore.

As you joined the others, Lord Baelish’s gaze once again met yours. This time, it was even more intense than before, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling. But how could he? You didn’t even know what was happening to you.

As you approached the horses, your thoughts still swirling, you heard the soft scrape of boots behind you. Before you could turn, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly. Your breath caught in your throat as Lord Baelish gently but assertively placed you atop your horse. The unexpectedness of his touch sent a sudden wave of warmth through your body, and you instinctively pressed your thighs together, feeling an unfamiliar tension between them.

His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary at your hips, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your dress before sliding down your thighs, giving them a pat.

You could feel the heat of his touch even through the layers, and it made you feel strangely... exposed. His eyes met yours, dark and knowing, but you couldn't read the expression in them. He said nothing, just stepped back, giving you space to adjust yourself in the saddle.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

The action, though simple, had shaken you in a way you couldn't explain. You had never been touched like that before even as innocent it may be, at least not so deliberately, and it left you feeling vulnerable yet... something else.

There was a fluttering in your chest, a confusing stir that you couldn't place.

You quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Are you well?" His voice was soft.

this being the first thing he’s said since yesterday.

You nodded, the words escaping you.

You weren't sure what was happening to you, and the last thing you wanted was for him to notice the way your heart raced or the flush creeping over your skin. You gripped the reins tightly, desperately trying to focus on the horses and the path ahead, but all you could feel was his presence lingering too close.

As the rest of the group mounted their horses and began to move, you followed, trying to ignore the burning heat that had settled in your chest. Lord Baelish rode alongside you, his horse moving at a steady pace, his gaze occasionally flicking to you from the corner of his eye.

The ride to the match seemed longer than it should have been. You couldn't shake the feeling of his touch, the way his hands had held you with such confidence and ease. And the strange, confusing fluttering that still hadn't subsided.

As you rode alongside Lord Baelish, the sounds of hooves striking the earth were the only things that seemed to fill the silence. The javelin match was drawing near, but your mind was elsewhere, preoccupied by the strange sensations still lingering in your body. Every time your horse’s stride shifted, you felt a light pressure between your legs, an awareness you had never experienced before. The thought of it made you flush, and you quickly looked away, hoping no one could see the heat spreading across your cheeks.

Lord Baelish, always so calm and composed, rode just a few paces ahead, his dark eyes occasionally drifting to you. You could feel his gaze even when he wasn’t looking directly at you. It made you restless, as though his very presence was pulling at something inside you that you couldn’t understand.

A sharp tug on the reins brought you out of your daze. You looked up to find the match grounds ahead, the field bustling with activity as crowds gathered in anticipation. The momentary distraction helped ground you, but the feeling of his touch from earlier still hung heavily in your chest. Your mind kept drifting back to it, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands had gripped you with such assurance.

‘one little interaction with a man and this is how i’m reacting!’ you think to yourself.

As you dismounted, Lord Baelish was once again there to assist, his hands warm on your waist as he gently guided you to the ground. His touch was gentle, yet possessive, and you felt that strange ache stir again deep inside. “thank you,” you smile politely. before stepping away from him quickly, trying to focus on the spectacle unfolding before you—the shouts, the cheers, the clash of weapons. Anything to distract yourself from the disorienting feelings inside.

You stood next to your family, but your gaze kept flitting to Lord Baelish, who was speaking with a few others nearby. His eyes met yours once again, and that familiar look passed between you. It was almost as if he could see through you, as though he knew what was stirring within you, though you had no words for it yourself.

A voice beside you broke your focus. Your sister, sansa, noticing your distraction, asked, “What’s on your mind today? You’re not yourself.”

You forced a smile and turned to her, trying to push away the fog of confusion. “I’m just… thinking,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking about. Your mind and body were still reacting to Lord Baelish in ways you couldn’t explain.

you opt on moving a little further back in the crowd, away from your family as you don’t want them to keep continuously asking you series of questions.

And so, you stood there, the javelin match playing out before you, but your attention was split—part of you focused on the competition, the other part still uncertain, still trying to understand why that one, small interaction between you and Lord Baelish is consuming you with thoughts of him.. ‘and his attractive face.. toned body.. an-’

Then, a collective gasp rose from the crowd. "Oooof!" The sound echoed through the air, followed by an eerie silence. You glanced up just in time to see one of the men crumple to the ground, the wooden pole of the javelin buried deep in his throat. Blood poured from the wound in thick streams, staining the sand beneath him.

You winced, the brutal image searing into your mind, but it was the reaction of the crowd that truly unsettled you. They seemed almost thrilled by the violence. It was as if they took pleasure in the life being extinguished right before their eyes. The man's body was quickly dragged away by a few servants, but the roar of excitement from the spectators didn't falter.

You shook your head, a mixture of disgust and disbelief creeping into you.

"I'll never understand how people enjoy watching this," you muttered, mostly to yourself, but loud enough that anyone nearby might hear.

To your surprise, a smooth voice replied almost immediately. "Some enjoy the thrill of it. Others simply enjoy the.. spectacle."

You turned to see Lord Baelish standing beside you, his face unreadable, though his eyes held that familiar, knowing gleam. He wasn't looking at the man being dragged away, his attention was focused entirely on you.

"You seem disturbed," he continued, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But tell me, have you never considered that there's something rather... exciting about watching someone fight for their life?" His tone was casual, almost teasing, as though the death of the man meant little to him.

He didn't even glance at the scene unfolding before you. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on you, studying your reactions.

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his stare. "I don't think excitement is the right word," you replied, your voice tight. "It's... unsettling."

He tilted his head slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Perhaps. But there's something exhilarating about power, isn't there? Watching someone take control, even at the expense of another." His words were smooth, almost suggestive, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You glanced away, but his presence seemed to loom over you, his voice still echoing in your ears. There was something in his tone, something that made your stomach twist in a way you didn't quite understand. It was as though he was subtly pushing at the edges of your innocence, drawing out feelings you had never had to confront before.

"You're far too innocent, my lady," he murmured, as if he could sense the conflict churning within you. "But don't worry... some things are better learned firsthand."

You quickly swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. You didn't know what to say to that-didn't even know what to think. His words were like a puzzle, each one more cryptic than the last, but they had a way of making your heart race.

Trying to shake off the confusion, you glanced back to the field, hoping the match would provide some distraction and that the now beet face red of yours would somehow cool down in the short space of time you have.

The thought of the dead man being dragged away still made your stomach turn, but Baelish's proximity only heightened the strange sensations that bubbled beneath the surface. You wished you could focus, wished you could ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest.

But his gaze remained on you, sharp, hungry, and ever-watchful.

The match continued, but the tension in the air felt thicker now. You could hardly concentrate on the javelin throwers, each of them aiming their spears with practiced precision. Instead, your attention was pulled back to Baelish, who was still standing just a step too close, casually observing the scene. His presence was almost suffocating, yet you couldn’t look away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks again, a flush that had nothing to do with the warm sun overhead.

“You know,” Baelish said after a long pause, his voice low, just barely audible over the noise of the crowd, “you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss… what excites others. It’s not always what it seems on the surface.” His voice held a certain smoothness to it, as if each word was carefully crafted to provoke a reaction. And it was working. You felt a strange twinge of discomfort mixed with something else, something you couldn’t quite identify.

You tried to pull yourself together, to push the confused feelings back down. “I never said I dismissed it,” you replied stiffly, your voice quieter than usual. “I just… don’t see the appeal.”

He leaned in slightly, his mouth pressed lightly against your ear, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and for the briefest moment, you felt as though you were the only two people in the crowd. “Ah, but you’re not saying that you don’t feel something. That would be a lie.” His words sent a ripple through you, leaving you breathless for a second. He was watching you so intently now, his gaze softening, like he was examining you in a way you didn’t quite understand.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. His words had cut through your defenses with unsettling accuracy. Was it possible that he knew something about you that you didn’t? The way he looked at you—it made you feel like an open book, your every secret laid bare for him to see.

“Does it… bother you?” you finally whispered, your voice shaking slightly. You hadn’t meant to ask, but the question was out before you could stop it.

His smirk deepened, and he straightened, his tone shifting to something more playful. “Not at all,” he said smoothly. “But it does make things interesting when you find someone who isn’t quite so… aware of what’s stirring inside them.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar heat spreading across your body once more. The way he spoke, the way his words seemed to caress the air between you, made your chest tighten. It was almost as if he was inviting you to acknowledge something you weren’t ready to face, something that terrified you and thrilled you all at once.

The noise of the match returned with a thundering cheer as one of the competitors scored a direct hit, but it was distant to you, muffled in comparison to the pounding in your own chest. You barely even noticed the people surrounding you, the way the world seemed to continue moving around you while you stood still, caught in the weight of Lord Baelish’s gaze.

he moved himself closer behind yourself. “You really don’t understand it yet, do you?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as though sharing some dark secret.

his body was pressed up against yours, you instinctively stiffened, but he didn’t pull away, his fingers lightly pressing against you, as though marking his territory in the most subtle way.

he’d rock his hips slowly against yours, so subtle you might think you’re imagining it. his fingers danced on the small of your back, away from the sight of any bystander.

You shook your head slightly, trying to regain control, but his presence only seemed to heighten the confusion, the disorientation you were feeling. Was this just a game to him? Or was he playing with you, testing your limits? You weren’t sure, but what you did know was that his words, his touch, they were unraveling something deep inside you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“I—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip, unable to finish the sentence. What could you possibly say to him?

Before you could gather your thoughts, the final javelin was hurled with a sharp, whistle-like sound, its force sending a man crashing to the ground, an unfortunate casualty of the match. The crowd’s reaction was a mixture of gasps and excited shouts as the fallen competitor was dragged off the field, lifeless, with the javelin still lodged in his throat.

You stood at the edge of the arena, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene.

“Quite the display, don’t you think?” His voice came low, just behind your ear. There was no sign of discomfort in his tone—only a quiet satisfaction, as if the death of the man meant nothing at all to him.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his touch was making you feel, the way your pulse quickened at the proximity. “It’s… terrible,” you managed, your voice more fragile than you wanted it to be.

Baelish’s hands didn’t move, but his fingers tightened just slightly, as if he knew exactly what your discomfort was. “People enjoy it because it’s a reminder of power,” he said, his words soft, his tone deceptively casual. “A reminder that at any moment, your life could be taken from you. It makes them feel alive, even as they watch someone else die.”

You turned your head, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. You hadn’t expected him to speak with such indifference, to make such a chilling comment with no hint of empathy. But then again, Baelish had always been a man of cold calculation, never one for sentimentality.

“It’s… disturbing,” you whispered, your thoughts scattered as your chest tightened. His touch still lingered on your back, his presence too close, too overwhelming. It felt like an invisible thread was pulling you toward him, one you didn’t know how to resist.

Baelish’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke again, his voice now a tantalizing whisper. “You don’t like it. But you can’t deny it has a certain… pull.” His breath was warm against your skin, his tone taking on an almost teasing quality. “You feel something, don’t you? Even if you don’t want to.”

You stiffened, has he found you out..?

“I don’t…” You started to protest, but the words faltered as his touch remained firm, the pressure of his hands against your back both soothing and intrusive. “I don’t know what you mean.” you play coy and stupid.

His smile was faint, but it was enough to make your stomach flip. He didn’t respond right away, instead allowing a beat of silence to hang between you, before he spoke again, his voice now soft, coaxing.

“you know what i mean, just don’t be too quick to dismiss your own feelings.” His hand shifted just slightly on your back, fingers brushing against the curve of your waist. “what you’re feeling is natural, don’t push it away.” petyr says as his hands now move further down south, running his hands over your ass, groping the flesh subtly.

You felt a flush creep up your neck as you let out a soft yelp at the sudden attack, not only that but the words hitting you like a splash of cold water.

Before you could find your voice, Baelish lightly guided you away from the arena, his hand never leaving your behind. The sound of the crowd, the cheers, the dying echoes of the match, seemed to fade into the background as you followed him, still reeling from the strange combination of emotions swirling inside you.

⋮

hellooo! i was planning on making the smut part in this part but i felt like i rambled on too much and it’d be too long to add the smut part in now so it shall be in the next chapter, sorryy :(

anyways, thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it, don’t hesitate to like, share or reblog this post. thank you!

- maya 🪼

[k4marina]

— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now. 

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today. 

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas. 

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face. 

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out. 

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.” 

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck. 

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?” 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.” 

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.” 

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle. 

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys. 

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.  

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned. 

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.” 

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.” 

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates. 

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.” 

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.” 

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down. 

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down. 

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?” 

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled. 

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field. 

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.” 

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me. 

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?” 

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.” 

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet. 

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs. 

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience. 

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm. 

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.” 

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax. 

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular. 

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons. 

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King. 

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched. 

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.” 

“What? 

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me. 

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded. 

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass. 

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me. 

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him. 

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.” 

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon. 

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me. 

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off. 

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice. 

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right? 

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes. 

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky. 

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz. 

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.” 

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears. 

“Your dragon,” 

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I. 

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end. 

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible. 

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely. 

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle. 

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.” 

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly. 

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.” 

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub. 

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: reader is a Velaryon with some Targaryen features but not an OC, this is just some story building there will be other parts. I just finished the books and I am obsessed with GOT wither way I was bored and this is the result so beware ... I think that's it. Also Theon is a pookie in this fic because I said so

PAIRING: fem!reader x Robb Stark (romantically), fem!reader x Jon Snow (platonically), fem!reader x Theon Greyjoy (platonically)

part 2 , part 3, part 4

The cold wind still raged on, hitting the walls of Winterfell. Her room was one on the lower floors next to Jon's and Theon's rooms. The sunrays gently fell on her sleeping figure dragging her from her deep slumber. The fireplace was filled with ashes and the chill in her bones was reasonable. It might still be summer on the North, yet the occasional snow always drifted down from the dark grey clouds. A discreet knock pulled her out of her thoughts and Theon's irritated voice filled the room.

"If you are not in the courtyard in two minutes, I am ratting you out"

Like clock work the same words sounded the moment dawn greeted the North. It was a small routine they had formed two namedays ago. She covered herself in Robb's old furs, the ones he secretly gave to her and claimed he lost them. They had kept her warm for over six moon cycles, they had holes in several places and the edges were coming apart but it was her most prized possession. At first it smelled at him and she was always trying to bask in his scent, that was until Theon caught her smelling the neckline while wearing it and she wouldn't hear the end of it until she openly caught him staring longingly at Sansa.

Unfortunately, they were both in the same position, they wanted people they could never have, and only each other knew. They would drink together glasses of wine and they would stumble giggling around the castle. One time he had drunk so much that he composed atrocious poetry about the beauty of his lady Sansa and her copper hair and then about the Northern prince that fell in love with a girl that had mud brown hair adorned with streaks of silver grey and deep violet eyes that appeared dark blue in the right light. She knew that her appearance betrayed her ancestry the Targaryen blood that flowed in her Velaryon veins.

Her family had been brutally murdered, she had heard and read the tales of how her mother gave her life to protect her dark-haired girl and the bloody necklace that hugged her fathers throat. At the tender age of seven moon cycles her whole family had perished and she had been the only survivor. Ned Stark had found her in a bundle of fabrics crying her heart out and once he saw the sword that could have taken her head, he swore to protect her and take her in as his ward. She should have been grateful, she knew as much, he had given her everything, a warm house, plenty food, clothes and a loving family one she wasn't actually a part of and maybe that was the reason she was closer with Theon and Jon, the outsiders. It wasn't like she didn't like the Starks, she loved them to bits and yet she could never be one of them. She would be the squire under their Maesters care with her nose hidden in ancient books and scrolls, lost in maps and various languages and basic training as a healer. But her new passion was sword fighting. As a woman she had only been allowed to practice archery that she was quite good at and always betted with the boys around their performance.

And that was how Theon found himself at incredibly early hours with a wooden sword in his hand, frowning at drawings of fighting styles freezing his "balls" off. She had bested him at the fine art of combat at practically her fifth lesson in a few hits. She had a strategic mind and she was quick on her feet, the most perfect and most deadly combination that existed.

He pitted the man that would take her as his wife, because most men were incredibly controlling but there was no chance, she wouldn't get things her way. He was proof enough.

She had the three of them wrapped around her little finger from all those years back. She had grown up with them from when she was a babe, but at her seventh nameday her and the Maester left, since she was his squire, she had to follow him, he had taken her under his wing, she had practically been his daughter, the one he never had. At that day and several later they had cried so much that even Lady Stark was regretting her decision, she liked the girl enough, she had the tendency to wreak havoc and get lost in her books a bit too much, neglecting her chores and her lessons at needlepoint half the time, but she made her kids happy and she was too smart and witty for her own good that it was impossible not to have a sweet spot for the orphaned girl. She had been overjoyed when she learned about her return nine namedays afterwards. Her son, her calm and collected Robb was shuffling at his feet, nudging rocks around and toying with the hem of his cloak, the bastard and the Greyjoy ward were portraying similar behaviors and she had to control herself not to laugh at their antics.

Ned had pushed his son forth, claiming that it was around time he greeted their guests, he shot him a glare and his parented watched him as he wiped down his palms at his breeches and headed towards the carriage, his hand shook as he lightly grazed the handle and pulled the door open while staring into place, not ready to accept that his best friend might have changed. He was frozen in his place as a girl wearing a dark blue dress and heeled leather boots stood before him. She tilted her head to the right and only then did he notice her hair.

A knot at the back of her head that was a swirl of chocolate brown and silver white strands that framed her face beautifully. Her violet eyes hid a familiar mischief that he had dearly missed. She nodded at him, before facing his father and dropping into an elegant curtesy. It was as if he was on a trance, unable to tear his eyes from her form. It wasn't until he heard her voice, she was speaking in a language he didn't understand, yet he could recognize the bite on her tone. His father wore an amused smile as he answered her back. He would learn at the evening feast what had caused such reactions, the news almost swept him from his feet, his whole existence reduced to one word. Betrothed. Ever since then it was like they were walking on eggshells around her. All three of them longed for their missing link.

It wasn't until a few days latter when they invited her on a hunt that they could glimpse on what they were. They had found a boar and his in bushes only to lose their horses in the process. They had been walking for hours and all it took was an ill-fated joke from Jon.

"No. I do not love you. Of course I lied to you. Yes, it does make you look fat. No, I have never been in the Riverlands. It is pronounced Eyrie. And all of this pales to utter insignificance if we are to let ourselves be food for the hounds."

They had all been tired and snappy, making comments left and right and picking fun at her the way they used to. They had been waiting quite impatiently for her to snap back and the moment she did, loud laughter echoed in the woods. And just like that everything was back to the way it used to be.

Ever since then life seemed dreamy to Robb, he had his friends and his family all getting along and everything seemed perfect. But reality hit him hard each night knowing that the girl he fostered feelings for was promised to another.

[damn-stark]

Epilogue

Epilogue for Moonlight

A/N- You are all so loved by me thank you!! I hope you like it!!

Warning- Some angst, FLUFF!!!! Talks of death, SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*SEVERAL YEARS AGO. WINTERFELL*

“I need you to close your eyes now,” Cregan commands with his eyes glimmering under the cloud littered sky, while seven-year-old Rickon and five-year-old Aerion start to giggle, piquing your curiosity that much more while also making you wary.

“Why?” You probe with your eyebrow raising.

Cregan shrugs, refusing to give you a hint as to why he’s brought you out to the gardens.

“I need to show you something, but it’s a surprise that you cannot spoil.”

“Well if I walk in so you can show me I will spoil it—”

“Just close your eyes,” Cregan cuts off your witty remark, causing you to drop your head to hide your teasing grin.

“Yes, mama, just close your eyes, it's a surprise!” Aerion exclaims as he jumps up and down.

You blink and drift your eyes up to dig your eyes into your son. “Have you seen it?”

Aerion giggles and Rickon quickly covers his mouth to avoid having Aerion say what it is. However, Aerion pulls his stepbrother's hand off his face and gives you a response. “Father showed us.”

You hum and flash them both a small smile before you roll your head up and sigh deeply before closing your eyes. “I am trusting you two boys to lead me and your unborn sibling to the surprise,” you let the boys know as you finally give in.

“We won’t make you or our brother fall,” Rickon assures you as he grabs your hands first, causing Aerion to mimic him by grabbing your other hand.

“Ah, so you want another brother?” Cregan asks his son as he starts to lead the way inside the gardens, making the boys carefully pull you after him.

“I want only brothers. Daenys and Daenerys are the exceptions because they were already born before I could decide,” he says as if he has any say whatsoever over the gender of his sibling forming in your belly. It’s adorable that he’s so insistent on his desire though, you have to giggle.

“Well if the gods are good you’ll have many brothers,” Cregan tries to reassure his son, making you scoff as you hear the keyword “many”; does he finally accept the vision the red priestess told you about you having seven kids? As of now, you have four, and the fifth one is on the way, which leaves two more if the red priestess is right (which she is).

“You will have many siblings Rickon,” you tell the boy too with more certainty. “Seven in total.”

“Do not start,” Cregan warns you lightheartedly, but you only laugh knowing that you will in fact continue to bring up that vision.

“Now are we almost there?” You add impatiently. “I’m growing quite eager.

“Just about,” Cregan tells you, making you sigh before Aerion suddenly starts picking up his pace as he squeals.

“It’s there!”

“Aerion! Wait!” Rickon calls out after his brother and quickly matches his pace, causing you to be dragged ahead. And rather than telling the boys to slow down so you wouldn’t risk falling, Cregan begins to laugh before you hear his footsteps against the ground quicken too.

Once you finally make it to a stop, you giggle out of excitement and Cregan quickly exclaims. “Don't open your eyes just yet.”

You pout and drop your head. “Come on, the suspense is killing me! I must know!” You whine.

Cregan falls by your side, you hear his footsteps and the fabric of his clothes as he does. The boys proceed to let your hands go and one of them seems to have plucked something out of place, you can hear them well since you can’t use your vision.

“I’m going to put this in your hand,” Cregan fills the short silence as he grabs your hand and raises it off your side to extend it out with your palm facing the sky. Shortly thereafter before you can throw out another impatient question something smooth and round is placed on your hand that you can easily identify as a rose's head.

“Ah, well since we are married, you cannot be asking for my hand, so…”

“You can open your eyes now,” Cregan fills your silence, making you slowly peel your eyes open and blink to get your eyes used to the clarity before you raise your head and immediately feel your breath catch in your throat as you see the surprise that Cregan has for you.

“This surprise has been in the making for quite a while now,” he shares as he watches you with his grey eyes missing that brewing storm as they’re completely captivated by your reaction—“I wanted everything to be just right, with no details wrong or missing.”

Tears cloud your vision and that breath you’re able to catch shudders as it unfurls out of your nose. Aerion and Rickon are excitedly watching your every reaction, waiting for what you'll respond with, but you can’t muster a word. They’re lucky you’re even conscious, your shock, awe, excitement, and joy are swirling so fast that you think you’ll pass out with it all overwhelming you.

“Father said it would be impossible to have Astraea done the size she is,” Rickon explains, making your eyes shift to the small hatchling-sized Astraea carved there on your stone shoulder.

Yes…the statue right in front of your eyes is you. Yes, the intricate and tall marble statue in the middle of a bunch of Blue Winter Roses is you. The carved eyes, the carved hair, the carved lips, and the carved hand that extends out to ask for an offering is all you. You. You, and you. You were made into a marble statue.

“Why?” You finally speak and Cregan quickly enters your peripheral view before he cups the back of your hand and moves your hand forward so you can drop the blue rose on the palm of your carved hand forever frozen in place.

“Because well…” he pauses and sighs. “I love you and I want my love for you to be seen by every single descendant that will come down the line. They need to know how much I love you. Plus the gardens needed something that would always make them beautiful.”

Tears roll down your burning face and your thumping heart only keeps skipping beat after beat. The two boys see the tears running down the curve of your cheeks and Aerion hugs your legs first before Rickon follows.

“Mama,” Aerion’s voice travels to your ears. “Do you like it?”

You caress Astraea’s marble head and then run your fingers down her body forever wrapped around your neck before you lift your hand and let your fingers hover over your cheeks as you’re still in disbelief at what you’re seeing.

“I love it,” you whisper breathlessly and then let your fingers meet the cold marble before finally finding Cregan’s gaze and offering him a tender smile that matches the affection in your eyes.

“Thank you. I will forever be grateful,” you share what you can muster to put into words before you reach your hand out for him, making him close the gap between you so you wouldn’t move the boys out of place, and so you can twist your body to wrap your arms around him.

“I love you,” you whisper against his chest. “I will always cherish it.”

Cregan cradles the back of your head and you nuzzle your face into his chest, making him press a gentle kiss on the top of your head before he whispers, “I will always love you. Now everyone will know it.”

You grin and feel a wave of pride at the thought of it.

——

*A HUNDRED YEARS LATER. DAENERYS. WINTERFELL*

What is it about this cold frigid weather that the people like so much? They’re so proud of the cold and wet snow, but she can’t figure out why that’s so. Don’t they like the warmth embracing their skin? Don’t they like long days where the sun dances in the sky for longer than an hour? Or do they prefer this weather because it keeps everyone inside and close to one another to seek warmth and company?

She watches everyone gathered in the hall after having dinner in honor of her arrival. She sees them avoiding being outside to share stories, laughs, drinks, and dances, and she wonders if this is what they seek from this cold weather.

She can imagine it being so but she doesn’t understand it, the unity, because she never had it. Daenerys never was able to grow up surrounded by her family. She only had her brother, but they were never rich with community.

If her family were still alive she can imagine they’d prefer the hot weather so they could soak in the sun just as her dragons do, so they would never live here, but they would laugh too. They would share bizarre stories of beautiful dragons, glorious wars, recklessness, and histories. They would also gather around in huge halls and listen to traditional Valyrian music to dance to, maybe even sing just like her brother Rhaegar sang.

It would be so beautiful and full of life and full of people who were like her and wanted to talk to her. She wouldn’t be lonely watching from the table. She would be gawked at with admiration instead of fear. It would be warm…

Alas, she could only imagine such things the same way she always had since she could remember because they’re all gone. Every single one of them except for her, but she knows one person is not enough to rebuild that long-lost community, so she’s left envious of the bond the Stark’s have.

And she feels bad for letting such a twisted feeling get a hold of her, but she can’t help it when she sees everything they have even after all the loss. And yes, Daenerys has her dragons, she's grateful and loves them, but she also has a home made of rubble…and she stands alone in the middle.

“I am going to get some air,” she lets Missandei know before getting out of her seat and then peering back to glance at her trusted friend and advisor. “It’s quite alright Ser Jorah, I will be alright.”

The man doesn’t argue even if he wants to, he just watches her leave with guards trailing behind her. And not so much later someone follows her outside without her knowing, like a stalking wolf.

“Your Grace!” A call gets carried out through the bitter air, catching Daenerys’ attention and bringing her to a stop to turn on her heels and come face to face with Jon Snow, or as his people call him, King of the North, but she doesn’t address him as such, offering him a tightlipped smile instead.

“It's cold out here. You shouldn’t linger out too long,” he offers some lighthearted advice to start the conversation.

“I just needed some air,” Daenerys explains without that same emotion clinging to her voice. Not because she dislikes his presence, more so because she sees him now and sees everything she doesn’t have.

“Are you heading inside soon? Or do you still need more air?” He asks teasingly, causing the corner of her lips to twitch up but not fully form into that genuine smile just yet.

“I might stay out here longer.”

He nods stiffly and glances at an archway before he meets her gaze with a change in his eyes. “Good. Would you accompany me to the Gardens? I have something I have been meaning to show you.”

Daenerys debates the choice between giving in or denying the invitation. She does have nothing better to do but return to the hall and continue to be a little envious or stay out here all by her lonesome.

“You will like it,” Jon tries to sweeten his offer to tempt her into agreeing, and after a second longer that seemed like a dragging hour, she sighs deeply and offers him an agreeing nod, bringing a faint smile to his face before he points his hand to the archway before he leads the way through the large grounds.

When they arrive at the archway that leads to the gardens, Daenerys can’t help her awe as she sees that the gardens aren’t surrounded by the free and wild air, but it’s protected and surrounded by glass. Its entirety as far as she can see is all protected from the natural elements by glass, providing warmth against the bitter air.

“It’s all glass?” Daenerys muses, making Jon nod and hum as he falls by her side to continue leading the way at her side now. And this time Daenerys is far more curious and captivated by the sights of the gardens thriving thanks to its protective glass.

“The glass is used to help us grow food for winter and summer snows,” Jon shares while Daenerys takes back everything she had begun to assume about the gardens. She had thought there would be no life, that it wouldn’t compare to the gardens in Meereen where the sun is out and blazing and the water isn’t frozen, but she’s wrong and maybe it is because she’s having a hard time adjusting to this bitter climate with nothing but grey skies, but she’s wrong. She can see that the gardens here are special and truly unique with strong flowers and trees still bearing their fruit and green leaves.

“Just over here,” Jon lets her know as her eyes dart from plant to plant with curiosity, causing her to miss what exactly he’s leading her to until they finally come to a stop in front of a towering marble statue that begins to cast a large shadow over her as the sun begins to peek out of the white skies.

As Daenerys drags her eyes up the towering marble statue she begins to realize that it’s a statue of a woman forever bearing a long flowing gown that she holds the skirt of with the tip of her marble fingers. The end of the gown and the way it flows down the statue's body looks like a wave; that’s how precise and intricate the statue is. Yet she soon comes to realize that her gown isn’t the most fascinating thing about her. There’s a dragon as big as a hatchling forever wrapped around the woman’s neck.

That’s right…a dragon.

Why? She wonders and scales her eyes up, feeling her breath catch as she sees the way the sunlight captures the face of the woman almost as if the sun just wanted to shine for her. And why wouldn’t it? Even though the woman is a statue she can note how breathtakingly beautiful the woman is. She’s truly ethereal and will forever be so. However, why doesn’t she look like a Northerner?

Even though the woman’s delicate features are forever captured in marble, Daenerys can note the difference considering she’s currently surrounded by Northerners, and the woman bears no resemblance. She actually looks familiar in a sense, but why would she? And why is Daenerys so captivated by her and her alone? She barely notices the beautiful Winter Roses surrounding the statue, or the hand stretched out holding a wilting Blue Rose.

“Arya and Sansa…like to come and give her a flower,” Jon shares as he removes the Blue Rose out of the statue's hand and drops it on the ground. “Both for entirely different reasons but it seems they still like to do it.”

“Who is she?” Daenerys finally finds her breath and thoughts to voice her question.

Jon drifts his gaze away from Daenerys to look at the statue and speak your name, giving Daenerys a hint as to who you are, but not the exact answer just yet, so Jon proceeds and this time looks back at Daenerys to keep watching her admiration. “She was the granddaughter of King Viserys Targaryen, and daughter to his eldest child, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Daenerys recognizes the names from the books she’s read about her family and finally starts to piece you together.

“On her shoulder is her dragon…”

“Astraea,” Daenerys finishes for Jon and finally raises her hand to brush her fingers on the dragon's head as she speaks your name before she shares what she knows. “She’s the eldest daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was born sick so the Maesters did not know if she’d live. That is until passed the age she was supposed to die. And unlike her brothers, her first dragon egg failed to hatch so another egg was given to her and that one successfully hatched. Later in life, she married her uncle, but he died and she married his brother and became Queen for a short time. She was known as the Realms Golden Girl or The Sire of Driftmark, but she was also the last Dragonrider along with Lady Rhaena Targaryen…”

“Until you,” Jon adds, matching Daenerys softness as she trails off—“but there’s a lot more to the story,” he piques her attention, making her drop her hand to look at him, however, he averts his gaze and bends down to pick a flower from the bunch.

“She wasn’t just a Princess, dragonrider, or a Queen. Arya wouldn’t come visit her if she was just that. Her favorite flowers were also Blue Winter roses. That’s why she’s always surrounded by them,” he says while he pushes himself up and looks at the rose in his hand. “She was the only woman of your family to wield Blackfyre, your family's Valyrian Sword.”

Daenerys eyes fill with much more admiration as Jon goes on sharing things she missed? She never read that about you in any books she had.

“She fought in a battle whilst expecting twins. She actually fought in many battles, it's why men donned her ‘Blood Dragon’.” He says with an amused smile as he turns his body to face Daenerys and hands her the Blue Winter Rose he had plucked.

Daenerys admires the rose in her hand and its delicate and unique blue petals.

“She was graceful. She loved the sea and was an exceptional singer. She was Funny. Fierce. Strong. Egotistical. Tactical. Charming. Loving. Adventurous. Proud. And so beautiful that no sun, star, or moon could ever compete.”

Daenerys giggles and then her eyebrows pinch together. “How do you know so much?” She asks.

Jon sighs with a smile on his face. “Along with the book of the Conquerors. Arya made me read the book the Princess’s husband wrote for her. You see she was married to Lord Cregan Stark.”

Daenerys blinks in surprise and shakes her head in disbelief because nothing she read ever said any of what he just said.

“Lord Cregan Stark loved the princess so much that he had a statue made for her as a display of his love for her, and had it live here,” Jon adds with a sense of admiration as he looks back at the statue. “She lived and died here. Her dragon died a day after her probably due to heartbreak, or so that’s what Lord Cregan wrote. Her ashes were spread in the sea and it was after she died that Lord Cregan wrote her book so she may be remembered by who she really was and not what the Maesters painted her as; a mere woman in a man’s story. And maybe she wanted it that way…to be forgotten, but Lord Cregan couldn’t let her be forgotten.”

Daenerys looks back at your statue, and admires you for who you really were; as someone grande and exceptional and not the simple princess written by maesters that never met you. She looks at you like you are something rather than nothing.

“Oh,” Jon interjects and glances at her. “And she was immune to fire too.”

Daenerys eyes shine brighter and an awe-struck smile grows on her face. She had grown fond of you as Jon shared what he knew, but now with that last detail, that crippling loneliness vanishes here in the distant North as she feels like she has you; a Targaryen just like her. The only daughter, Queen, dragon rider, and a survivor.

Maybe you have been gone for a long time now, your bones have turned to ash and those ashes have vanished from this earth, leaving only a story of who you used to be, but she feels your presence now and embraces it.

“The book is still here,” Jon lets her know. “If you would like to read it.”

Daenerys smiles brightly and reaches over to leave the Blue Winter Rose on your wanting head before giving Jon an eager response. “I would love to read it.”

.

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A/N- I would just like to thank everyone for supporting and following this story! It truly means a lot to me and you all mean so much to me too!! Thank you!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[cruel-seduction]

"If you see a guy with emotional baggage, morally grey vibe, and a smirk that could ruin lives manipulating me, just so you know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

[multific]

His Queen

Jon Snow x Reader

Warnings: murder, blood, witchcraft

Summary: As a last attempt to defeat Jon Snow, the Kings and Lords gather for a meeting, during the meeting an idea comes up in order to defeat Snow. 

A/N: This story doesn't follow the story of the series/books.

“The King in the North has started to reach our borders. He is a threat to us.”

The Kings and Lords looked between one another. 

"Jon Snow is nothing but a bastard. We can crush him easily." said one.

"I think you forget that the last party you sent to kill him, he easily defeated." replied another.

Everyone began to murmur between themselves when a Lord came up with the idea.

"Let us kill his wife. He holds her so near and dear if he was to lose her, he would surely crumble." everyone stayed quiet.

"His wife... is a witch. My men had seen her, while she is a beauty, she holds powers, powers not even a dragon could win against."

"I will send my men, my best, to kill her. We will come up with a plan which for sure will work. Witch or not."

"Didn't someone try to poison her before?" another King spoke up as a Lord nodded.

"Yes, she drank the poison and wasn't even phased by it. I'm telling you all, it is a bad idea to go after her."

But of course, no one listened.

Ten men were sent for Jon Snow's wife.

At the time they didn't know, but none would return.

---

Mornings like these were always your absolute favourites. With your husband still in bed next to you, you played with the ends of his hair.

You smiled to yourself as he moved just a little in his sleep.

Soon, Jon woke up as he moved to lay on his back, you moved to his chest as he let out a soft sigh. The fur now pooled around his waist as your hand ran up his chest.

"Good morning." you said with a soft voice, not quite ready to get up just yet.

"Morning, My Goddess." you smirked as his fingers began to roam your naked back.

He never opened his eyes as you just kept staring at him.

"Our Kingdom is growing, this will come with many enemies." you said.

"More than what we already have?" came his reply with a yawn.

"If they only knew that the King of the North is this lazy. It is almost mid-morning and you still refuse to wake."

"It is my wife's fault. She kept me up all night." you smiled as he finally opened his eyes, looking at you with nothing but pure love and admiration. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly his eyes filled with worry upon seeing your expression.

"The wind came with bad news, people are brewing a plan against you."

"You and your powers, My Love... what is the worry this time? A coupe? To kill me? A trap for my armies?"

"Men had been sent to kill me. I can deal with them, once know who they are. Please, Jon, much like before, we act as we don't know."

"Of course," he nodded. "As always, oblivious. Do you know how many?" you shook your head, no.

"I hope, I pray to the Goddess that one day we won't face such dangers. That our children won't have to grow up in fear." you said as Jon sat up, you followed suit, holding the fur to your chest.

He smiled.

"You always speak of children, I like it when you do that. It gives me hope, a reason to fight for a future."

You smiled right back before kissing him.

Oh, yes, mornings like these were your favourites.

---

Staying away from Jon was something you didn't really like to do.

You prefer to stay with him at all times but you understood that he had duties and so did you.

You looked after the young wolves and cared for the pups who were left without a mother after the war. 

The feeling of dread didn't leave you.

Ever since you woke up, you had this feeling, and you knew better than to ignore your instincts.

Your life was in danger as always but now, you won't be merciful.

Last time, it was during your wedding when they tried to poison you. You drank the wine without a problem but the taste of iron never left your mouth. You chose not to speak, Jon only was told years after.

You decided not to tell him because you feared his reaction.

But now, after the wars, after the many lost lives, you were ready for anything.

Their first try came while you were taking your daily bath. One dared to barge in with a sword, trying to kill you. But the man's fate wasn't fortunate.

When Jon heard the news that you have been attacked he was furious. But the scene he saw when he entered the bath wasn't what he expected.

The man now laid, with his head by his lifeless body, his blood filled the bath which you still occupied.

"I'm almost done." you said with the calmest tone Jon had ever heard.

There was something about you, in a bath of blood that just turned Jon on beyond belief. He had seen you covered in blood before, but somehow, this was different.

That night as you two got ready for bed and he finally joined you, you just said "There are more of them." which made Jon nod, he knew you would take care of yourself, but he will also have to look out for himself. 

The second and the third man wanted to take no chances. One watched by the door while the other ran into the library to kill you.

But when everything inside went quiet the other man also emerged from the door and was met with the same fate. 

Both dead, surrounded by symbols drawn with their own blood. It scared the servants, even some knights found themselves to be scared by the drawings. 

But not Jon, never Jon.

He simply entered the room and kiss you on the lips.

Seven men were left. All of which decided to catch you at night. First, they found out that the King was occupied and they all hurried to your chambers.

But instead of meeting with a sleeping Queen, you have been waiting for them. The door locked behind them and only their screams were heard in the night. 

No one dared to approach the chambers. No one dared to open the door.

Jon arrived again, seeing the blood seeping out from behind the door, he opened it and saw a scene that almost made him throw up.

All bodies were kneeling around you in a circle. Kneeling, holding their own heads in their hands as you sat in the middle of them, he wasn't sure if you were praying.

"Darling?" he asked, knowing better than to cross any lines. Knowing the powers you were often playing with.

You looked at him, familiar eyes staring at him as he knelt down to your eye level.

"Let's go to bed in another room." he suggested and you agreed. 

Of course, your loving husband avenged the attacks against you.

In his eyes, no matter if you were never injured, he saw these attacks as an attack on him, because they were.

And Jon never took lightly to harm against you. He would never stop at anything when it came to you. Even if he wasn't king. 

Jon Snow would never let anyone take you from him, you were his.

His Love.

His Wife.

His Queen.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[vivalarevolution]

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼

Robb Stark x Reader x Jon Snow

Request: „I love ur writing and I wondering if you could write a robb stark x reader x jon snow where they’re fighting over a winter fella new maid or smth, tysm!‟

A/N: A request from anon. I won't lie, despite the little information I was very inspired by this idea. I hope all of you will enjoy reading it. Please remember that english is not my native language, mistakes may or will occur.

Additionally, work contains smut, minors do not interact.

They had never seen her before, and perhaps that was why their curiosity about her was so unbridled. They couldn't explain it, but from the moment they laid their eyes on her they had to touch her, they had to feel her, they had to taste her.

-You feel so good around me - the man murmured directly into her ear, biting its lobe.

Woman only moaned quietly, resisting her forehead on a cold stone wall. Her body trembled with the intense pleasure that flowed through her veins. Her legs almost gave up under her , if not for a strong hand that tightened on her hip, giving her goosebumps.

-Robb...no...we can't - she said, closing her eyes and parting her mouth when his member hit her insides mercilessly.

Man muttered in response before placing his free hand around her slender neck, squeezing gently to remind her of the wolf behind her devouring her piece by piece.

-Your soft lips say something different from your body - the brunette noticed after a while attacking her bare arms with wet kisses and rough bites - You want me like I want you. So let your big wolf devour you - he growled close to her ear, kissing her cervix harder with each word he spoke.

Y/n gave a silent scream. Her eyes closed tightly, and her hands tightened into fists. She was so close, she felt it. Her release was like a wave at sea. The water went back, just to hit the coastal stones firmly, playing with her. And Robb, Robb was the ruler of this sea.

-So close... please Robb! - she whimpered desperately, looking at him with eyes clouded with lust.

-I know, little lamb. I know - the young man murmured, abusing all the right places inside her with strong and aggressive movements that took her breath away with each successive stroke of his hips - Let go, let me feel you.

His words were the key that opened the golden gate leading straight to a sweet pleasure so good it was almost forbidden.

Her eyes closed, and a wave of pleasure passed through her, spreading everywhere in her body. From the top of her head to the tips of her fingers. It felt as if time had stopped and the sound around them ceased to exist.

-Good little lamb - said Robb, lazily kissing her neck - Now let the wolf fill you up.

-Yes, yes - she whimpered, opening her mouth wide and frowning as she felt another orgasm coming toward her, so fast and unnoticed it almost hurt - Please, I want to be full!

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden warmth that poured from her insides, right between her thighs. With her hand, she sluggishly grabbed the brunette's neck, pulling him to herself, connecting their lips in a slow kiss.

Every next touch, every kiss, every sigh. Everything was more intimate, more sensual... more forbidden and dangerous.

The slightest sound from the end of the corridor startled her like a doe that was being hunted. Fleeing before a predator could spot her ,before Robb could've grab her in his claws again, feasting a little longer.

First she heard their voices, then felt their burning eyes on her skin. Yet her movements remained the same, composed, calm. While the two wolves watched her, no matter how far away she was from them.

-I see the way you're looking at her - Robb confessed in a hard controlled voice- You're my brother, but she's not yours...never will be.

Jon stopped staring at his beautiful Y/n, resembling a doe in her delicacy, reluctantly letting her immaculate, ruddy face escape his view.

-She's a free woman - bastard remarked, fixing his cold gaze on him - She can choose whoever she wants - he remarked, noticing in the corner of his eye how her gaze involuntarily wandered in their direction, watching them from a distance, trying so desperately to hear what they were talking about.

-And you believe she'll choose you? - Stark asked, unable to stop staring at the woman who had beguiled his senses and soul.

-If she would choose me - said the black-haired man, stopping for a moment - I would let her. I would let her do whatever she wanted because I couldn't tell her no. Never.

Robb clenched his hand into a fist, his face hardened into an indifferent expression. He wanted to be controlled, understanding. But still the blood of the north flowed in his veins, the blood of the wolf. And his dark, primitive side knew, knew that the moment he laid his eyes on the woman, she became his, only his.

Before the eldest son of the Lord of Winterfell could speak, Y/n caught his attention again. Just like the night before, she ran away suddenly, unexpectedly, as if something spooked her before she saw it.

He wanted to know what, but when he looked back, she was gone. Just like Jon.

She thought she had run away. She should be smarter.

Within seconds she was in the arms of Ned Stark's son, gasping as he pulled her closer, shielding her from the eyes of the outside world.

-Jon - she said almost breathlessly.

-Y/n - he replied, kissing her jaw gently - Why are you still running away? - he asked, holding her tightly in his arms.

-I'm not running away - she confessed, leaning against his torso - I just wanted to get rid of so many eyes on my skin - she added, tilting her head slightly to look into the man's dark irises - They seem to be following me wherever I go.

The man smiled slightly at her confession, his hand found its place on her cheek, stroking its smooth surface with his thumb.

-You are a white deer in the darkness - he stated, staring intensely into her eyes with growing desire - And the wolves are starving - he added before attacking her full, sweet lips.

Woman moaned softly, grabbing his hair as if her life depended on it, trying to pull him even closer. Even though she shouldn't.

Grabbing her tiny body, Snow pinned her to a nearby tree. Attacking her slender neck, he reveled in the sound of her whimpers and sighs, his large hands roaming her body, lower and lower.

Y/n watched his actions with eyes clouded with desire. She was afraid that someone would see them, she was afraid of punishment.

But they were alone among the trees in Godswood. The only witnesses were the old gods and themselves, no one else.

-Jon...we can't - she whispered weakly, not realizing how familiar this scenario was to her.

-All I want is to please you - he said tenderly, slowly rolling up the fabric of her dress, making her skin crawl with goosebumps - My sweet Y/n, let your wolf feast. I must feel you.

She fell helplessly onto the rough bark behind her. She wanted to say and do so much, but her body seemed to rebel against her, telling her to take whatever the predator was giving her between her thighs.

He was so gentle and agonizingly slow, kissing and sucking on her firm skin, leaving marks on his prey as he got closer and closer to where he wanted to attack so much.

Y/n quickly became numb. The amount of attention she was getting seemed to overwhelm her body, but even so, she didn't want the moment to ever end, not with Jon harassing her womanhood in such an addictive way.

She could compare him to a hungry wolf, by the fact with what fervor he devoured her femininity while choosing every single piece, not wanting to miss absolutely nothing.

She let the knot in her lower belly burst, spreading delicious and burning pleasure through her body, which constantly circulated through her veins through the tongue of a man who would not leave her, feasting on her even longer.

She felt her sanity trying desperately to break through the thick wall of pleasure and lust built by two dangerous predators that were using the little sheep inside it.

But she wanted them to be happy ,full. Even as they fought for her like ravenous wolves, and she just couldn't choose. Letting them both devour her.

[m9yaa]

── .✦INNOCENCE; PETYR BAELISH ⟡˖ ࣪

part 1, part 2, part 3

⟡˖ ࣪ pairing: petyr baelish x fem!stark reader

⤷cw: mature content, innocence/corruption kink?, unprotected sex, age gap, power dynamic?, aged up characters, groping (non con kinda), sexual tension, sexual innuendo

⤷summary: in which, petyr baelish seems to take an interest in you, catelyn’s and ned’s eldest daughter after the hand of the king’s arrival at king’s landing.

REQ! also not proof read!

⋮

you’ve freshly turned 18, which already means your considerably lagging behind other girls your age, which by now, would of most definitely mean marriage and pregnancy, maybe a child or two.

it’s not that you don’t want to be married or anything, it’s just that any possible suitors or men that have came and asked your father for your hand in marriage, just aren’t what you’re interested or want in a man or boy your age.

so when it came for dear sansa to be married off to joffrey baratheon, your mother and father thought it’d be a great opportunity for you to come with, as you might meet someone of equal status, who does catch your interest.

you let out groans and protests in defence as you simply had no interests in doing that at this moment, it’s too time consuming and too much effort for a man who barely knows how to wipe his own arse without his mother there to guide him. but alas, you had no choice.

the morning of the day came. you, your sisters and father were leaving winterfell for king’s landing.

you were unsure of how you’d like it there as you only recall going when you were a mere child, too young to properly remember.

“hopefully king’s landing will be good to us.” you say to the lady in waiting, serene, as she finishes the last touches on your dress and hair.

serene is a girl similar to your age, not bad looking, brown hair, brown eyes, fair complexion, nothing to special appearance wise, but she’s someone you’d consider a friend.

no matter how many times you’ve told her to stop referring to you as ‘milady’, she always comes back to it, so you’ve just begun to accept it.

“i’m sure it will my lady.” she responds before moving backwards, allowing you to have a look in the mirror.

“you look beautiful my lady.”

“thank you, serene.” you smile into the reflection as you look back at her.

you take one last glance in the mirror before grabbing some light belongings yourself and your warm, fur cloak. you clip it around your neck as you begin walking out of your cozy room and into the harsh, much colder, hallway. your lady in waiting following closely behind with the rest of your belongings.

the journey there wasn’t unbearable. it took around a week/ week and a half to get there. at first the days started out wet, harsh and terribly cold, as you’d have to make camp up in the north.

the tents only kept in so much warmth and no matter how much padding was put on the ground of the tent, the frozen solid ground and mud was protruding through the fabric and into your back, making it difficult to get sleep and uncomfortable to relax, but ‘this was only temporary’ you kept saying to yourself, ‘soon i’ll be in king’s landing’.

the only warmth you managed to get was from the fire, before it went out and the fur cloak you had on, when it wasn’t too wet to the point it got uncomfortable.

as the days passed, the further down south everyone went and luckily, the warmer it became.

you got rid of the cloak a few days back, showcasing your beautiful, smooth skin and figure in the light, sage green dress you’re wearing.

it has golden accents and embroidery stitched into the more sheer, flowy fabric of the sleeves. the bodice is intricately structured, with a corset-like fit that compliments your figure nicely.

the neckline is a little bit more low than you’d wish for it to be, but there was no time for any other fittings before you had to leave winterfell, so it’ll make due for now.

the golden embroidery decorates the neckline.

the skirt is made of layers of soft, flowing chiffon or similar fabric in a muted sage green. The fabric gathers gracefully, creating a voluminous and flowing effect.

you had some gorgeous jewellery to go with it, resting nicely on your chest, lays a golden necklace, with an incredibly rare jewel embedded in it, jadeite.

it’s a similar colour as your dress, suiting well to the rest of your outfit.

in short, you have very elegant and beautiful attire on.

the next day is when you all finally made it to king’s landing.

it was beginning to get late as you stepped through the gates on the back of your horse, the sun was beginning to set, torches and such were being lit all around the capital.

the whole family was given a warm welcome by robert and cersei, along with the everyone else in capital.

you exchanged pleasantries and formalities with the family and whoever else you needed to do so with, which included the infamous petyr baelish.

“ser baelish, it’s great to meet you.” you smile politely before proceeding with a slight bow to show your respect. as you lift your upper body back up, you notice his eyes are no longer on your face, but lingering on your chest instead.

‘it must be the necklace catching his eyes, it’s so pretty after all.’ is all you think of it, not an impure thought in mind.

“ms stark, how wonderful it is to meet you.” he grins as he unexpectedly takes your hand and lifts it up to his face, taking his time kissing your knuckles.

you feel your face heat up a little at the prolonged physical contact, as well as the eye contact.

assuming it’s just a common way to greet people, you push the strange feeling in your stomach aside as you clear your throat and pull back your hand.

he lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction, “you look more ravishing than ever.” he says with a grin.

“o-oh, thank you,” the slight heat you felt in your skin before, now felt ablaze as you receive the compliment from petyr.

he observes the way you react to his words and actions, internally praising himself for managing to make you react so flustered, noting to himself your age, meaning you’re more impressionable and inexperienced than women his age.

something he likes.

baelish opens his mouth, about to say something more but not before your father, ned, appears beside you.

they both greet each other, keeping it short.

“i see you’ve met my daughter.” ned says, “and you, petyr.” you nod in response. “great.” he responds before turning to speak to you. “i want you to return to your chambers for the night and rest for now.” your father instructs, commenting on how the last week/ week and a half of travelling has been exhausting and tiring on everyone.

“one of the servants will show you up to your chambers.”

you comply, “of course father,” you nod, “goodnight, goodnight lord baelish.” you say as you begin to retreat.

you call over your lady in waiting, serene, as she follows behind you.

“just this way, my lady.” the servant boy says as he leads you and serene out of the throne room.

he leads you to your room, your lady in waiting has retired to her own chambers so it’s just you in your room now.

shutting the door, you let out a sigh before scanning the room, taking it all in.

‘goodness, i could do with a bathe.” you think to yourself. all this travelling hasn’t exactly kept you the freshest.

you walk over to where your belongings have been placed and proceed to take out your sleepwear.

since it’s considerably warmer in king’s landing than winterfell, you opted for something a lot more lightweight and flowy.

you picked out one of your favourite pieces, a somewhat sheer yet gorgeous slip on dress.

you normally wouldn’t wear something so sheer, but the fabric is one of the most comfortable fabrics there are, perfect for sleeping in.

plus, nobody would see you anyway.

after choosing your sleepwear, you walk over to the tub, you see the servants have kindly prepared a bath, the water still looking warm and inviting.

you quickly strip out of your sage green dress that has been on for too long in your opinion, to the best of your ability, and gently enter the bathtub.

you sigh in relaxation as you soak your entire body in the enveloping warmth. you haven’t felt anything like this for almost 2 weeks, and how glad you are to feel it now.

you sit like this for a few minutes, savouring moments like these as much as you can, but not before it sadly gets cut short by an abrupt knocking on the door.

knock, knock, knock

you hear against the wooden door.

you get startled at the abrupt interruption.

as you jump out of the bathtub, you can’t seem to find anything to wipe yourself with.

it’s rude to keep whoever it is on the other side waiting, so you just go straight for the clothing you picked out that’s laying on your bed, which you’ve seemed to forgotten what it was.

you throw it on and cover your wet, nude body up as you head on over to the door.

you pull it open, at first only spotting the guards that are presumably going to be out there 24/7, before seeing…

petyr baelish..?

“my lady, i apologise f-” he stops talking abruptly, his eyes take in your appearance, travelling along your body.

“lord baelish?” you question in a confused tone, “what are yo-..” you quieten as you watch his strange mannerisms. following his eyes, you look down at yourself, connecting the missing dot.

Petyr’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his sharp eyes lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to your form. You could feel his gaze tracing every line of your body, and heat rose to your cheeks when you realized your mistake. Hugging the robe tighter around yourself, you cleared your throat, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t going to let this moment pass so easily.

“Well,” he drawled, stepping into the room uninvited, his voice low and teasing. “This is quite the reception. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting… such generosity tonight.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as you took a step back, the sheer intensity of his presence making it impossible to look away. “It’s not… I didn’t realize,” you stammered, trying to explain yourself while his gaze flicked to your trembling hands attempting to secure the robe.

Petyr chuckled softly, closing the door behind him with an almost casual ease, though his eyes never left you. “Oh, come now,” he said smoothly, his tone as silken as the fabric clinging to your skin. “Surely you don’t think of me so naive. Accidents like this don’t happen without… intent.”

“It was an accident,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the quickening of your pulse. “And whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming as the air grew thick with unspoken tension. His hand lifted, as though he might brush his fingers against your cheek—or lower—but he hesitated, studying your reaction. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, torn between the urge to stand your ground and the temptation to let the charged silence stretch. The room felt smaller with each passing second, his closeness a magnet pulling you in despite your better judgment.

“i-i barely know you, my lord, we cannot do this, it was all a mistunderstanding!”

Petyr’s smirk softened into something almost indulgent, though the glint in his eyes remained calculating. He stepped back slightly, as if granting you space, though the tension in the room hardly eased. “A misunderstanding?” he echoed, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “Forgive me, my dear, but it seems I may have misread the situation entirely.”

You nodded quickly, relief flooding your chest at his words. “Yes, exactly! It’s nothing but a mistake. I wasn’t thinking—I forgot what I was wearing, truly. Please don’t think I would ever…” You trailed off, your face heating under his unyielding gaze.

Petyr raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “Of course,” he said smoothly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of amusement. “I suppose such… innocence isn’t something I encounter often. Refreshing, really.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, though you couldn’t place why. There was something unsettling about the way he spoke, as though he found your embarrassment entertaining. You took a small step back, tightening the robe around yourself like a shield. “I’m serious, my lord,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He inclined his head, the picture of politeness, though his eyes continued to study you, as if committing every flicker of emotion to memory. “Oh, I believe you,” he replied, his voice gentler now. “You’re far too honest to be lying to me, aren’t you?” He took another step back, this time with exaggerated slowness, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “But you must forgive me for being… taken aback by such an unexpected sight. A man is only human, after all.”

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. There was an almost teasing quality to his words, but his demeanor had shifted just enough to make you question if you’d overreacted. Maybe he really had misunderstood and wasn’t trying to suggest anything untoward.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, faltering when his smirk returned, softer this time, but still undeniably Petyr Baelish.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, his tone low and disarming. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. That would be the last thing I’d ever wish for.” His eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should have before he turned away, his movements deliberate and unhurried. “Shall we speak of what I originally came here for, then?”

You nodded quickly, eager to shift the focus away from your mistake. “Y-yes, of course. What is it you need, my lord?”

He glanced over his shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Oh, just a small favor,” he said lightly. “But we can discuss it another time. I wouldn’t want to distract you further tonight.”

You frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant. Before you could muster a response, he reached for the door, pausing only briefly.

“Goodnight, my dear,” he said, his tone tinged with something you couldn’t quite name. “And… do be careful about what you wear in the future. You never know who might come calling.”

The first rays of morning light crept into the room, warm and golden, nudging you awake. You blinked slowly, your mind groggy as the events of the night before resurfaced. The memory hit you like a wave—the robe, the way Petyr had looked at you, the way his voice had wrapped around you like silk.

You let out a soft gasp, clutching the sheets closer to your chest as your heart fluttered with something strange, something unfamiliar. Your body felt warm, an odd, restless heat pooling low in your stomach. You shifted under the covers, trying to ignore it, but the feeling only deepened as your mind replayed the way he’d stepped so close, his voice low and knowing, his eyes…

Your face burned. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you shake this feeling? It wasn’t like he’d done anything inappropriate—not really. But the way he’d spoken, the way he’d looked at you… it had made you feel something you didn’t understand.

You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks, trying to calm yourself. It’s just nerves, you told yourself. That’s all it is. It was an embarrassing situation, and now you’re overthinking it.

But the warmth in your body told a different story, one you weren’t ready to face. You’d never felt this way before—not about anyone, let alone someone like Petyr Baelish. He was so… confident, so sure of himself. The way he’d smirked at you, like he knew exactly what you were feeling, made your stomach twist in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. he was nothing like boys your age.

You shook your head fiercely, trying to banish the thought. “Stop it,” you muttered under your breath, clutching the sheets tightly. “This is ridiculous. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

But a quiet voice in the back of your mind whispered otherwise. The way he’d looked at you was the way a man looked at a woman, not a girl. it was deeper, sharper, as though he saw more than you were willing to show. And worse, some part of you couldn’t forget it, couldn’t push away the strange, tingling warmth that memory brought.

You buried your face in your hands, your innocence warring with the strange, inexplicable desire curling in your chest. What was this feeling? Why couldn’t you make it go away?

No one can know about this, you thought, your cheeks blazing as you forced yourself to rise from bed. Especially not him.

Yet as you dressed for the day, the memory of his voice, his gaze, lingered like a shadow, refusing to let you go.

⋮

hellooo! this shall be a three parter as i don’t want this one to drag on forever and the second one i also dragged out by accident, the smut will be here soon don’t worry 😝

thank you for reading and if you enjoyed then don’t hesitate to like,share or reblog!

- maya🪼

[k4marina]

— vi. Secrets and the Moon || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: While things settle down secrets are unveiled and you and Daenerys have a conversation about the moon.

warnings: slight mentions of violence/death, grammar most likely, ngl it's a pretty tame chapter.

a/n: all dialouge in italics is Valyrian

series masterlist

5.2k wrd count

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

[gif is mine]

The walls of scrolls and ancient texts nearly reached the top of the ceiling. The smell of wax and parchment lingered in the room. Sunlight poured down from the skylight window. I’d never seen the room before, not on any website or during the tour of the castle. We were practically underground, in a more older portion of Dragonstone that was most likely withered away in the future. Diamond-patterned shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls on each side with a set of ladders and landings for easy access. A row of tables sat in the middle of the room, a large candle lit chandelier hanging down at the center.

I found the room whilst exploring the lower portions of the castle. It seemed that this was where all the old Valyrian texts were stored after the Targaryen’s arrival and before the Doom. When I’d first entered my head started to spin just off of the sheer size of the place. When I opened the first few scrolls and saw the ancient writing I couldn’t help but thank my parents for teaching me Valyrian Glyphs as well as the modern written form. Suddenly all those hours sitting at the dinner table studying with my father after dinner wasn’t so bad. 

So far my search had been fruitless, every lead coming to a dead end. There was practically nothing about either magic being used to bring people back in time or any mythologies relating to my predicament. There were plenty of other scrolls that taught the reader how they can cast various different spells and pyrokinesis. There were even a few that explained how to hatch stone dragon eggs, without human sacrifices. 

I scoffed, pushing that one scroll in particular to the side. I’m sure Dany could have used this while she was in the Dothraki Sea. 

Hours went by while I poured over all sorts of scrolls, but I found nothing that could explain my sudden appearance or a way to go back. The candles were nearly melted by the time I’d stored away the last scroll and shut the door to the reference room. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. I really thought that if I could find any leads about my situation then it would be on Dragonstone. 

I thought that in all of the texts the Targaryens brought over from Valyria at least one would have the answers I was looking for. But I was wrong. 

The Valyrians were the first to bound themselves with dragons using blood magic. During the Valyrian empire’s height magic was an integral part of their culture and history. There’s no telling what they couldn’t do. If only they were good at spreading their knowledge, just far enough to Volantis at least, then maybe the ancient empire wouldn’t be such a mystery. 

Daenerys sat in a closed off patio, staring off into the distance when I arrived for dinner. She was no longer in her signature dark Targaryen garb, but rather in a more simple and modest gown. Her hair was in her signature braids, but not as dramatic as usual. 

“What’s on your mind?” My question pulled her out of her thoughts, only now realizing that I was here.

“Nothing,” she half-smiles. “Just another long day. Come– sit. The food’s still warm.” She motions for me to sit, which I do. “I heard you were busy in the reference library again.” 

I sat, laying the cloth napkin on my lap. “Another bust,” a servant places a plate of food in front of the two of us before leaving. “Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of information, but none that I needed.” 

“Have you looked into other sources?” 

I sighed, reaching for the wine. “I already have. The Seven don’t really believe in whatever my situation is, and the Old Gods are mostly about nature; forest, rivers, stone.” The knife in my hands easily cut through the piece of meat on my plate. 

“What of the Old Gods of Valyria?” 

“They're just deities.” I placed my elbows on the table. “We still worship them beyond the Black Wall, but they also don’t provide any information. They’re just God’s you pray to, to keep traditions for some.” 

“So that’s it?” 

“I still have one person to ask, but she’s already gone to Volantis.” 

“Melisandre?” Daenerys frowns, “but she’s not coming back.” 

I shake my head. “She is. It’s her fate to die in Westeros. When she returns I’ll have to ask her before she takes the plunge.” 

Daenerys nods, slowly, understanding. There’s a moment of silence, the two of us busy eating before Daenerys asks me the important question that’d been lingering in the air since my arrival. 

“What will you do if you can’t go back?” 

I sit still, but then shrug. “Stay here, I guess. Don’t have any other option, do I?” I look away from her, staring off into the distance, the night sky glimmering. No matter how many times I see the stars, I’m always mesmerized. You can’t get a view like this in the modern world, the light pollution clouding the beautiful night sky. 

“I’ll probably explore around a bit.” 

“You won’t get married?” 

I paused, caught off guard. “I.. I don’t know.” I turned back to her. “I never thought of anything like that.” 

“Did you fancy anyone from your time?” 

“No,” I thought back. “Sure, I had a few crushes here and there, a boyfriend once, but nothing when I entered University, I was too focused on my studies than the opposite sex.” 

“Why? Are you trying to marry me off to some Lord to help your claim?” I teased. 

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking. If you do end up staying here then I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“But I’m not alone.” I said. “I have you.” 

She smiled. “I know that. What I mean is that I want you to have someone close to you. Someone to grow old with and perhaps a few children with.” 

I mulled over her words. “We’ll see. But my main goal is to get you on that throne first.” 

“Would that be before or after we join the Army of the Dead?” She jests. 

“Boo, bad joke.” I smiled. 

The rest of our night went smoothly, the two of us opting to not talk about war plans or the futures but rather of our childhoods. She told me stories about growing up in Essos, one that wasn't in any textbook and I told her about the modern world. I still remember telling her about modern transportation and technology, her jaw smacking the ground. 

We dined till the late hours of the night, only calling a night after we’d drank all the wine in the room. My body slightly buzzed, the alcohol flowing through me. Something that I learned when I arrived here was that alcohol was less potent compared to the future. So while everyone else could get drunk with a few glasses, I was just lightly buzzed. 

But that buzz didn’t last long. I was immediately sobered when I saw that the door to my chambers was left open. I stared at the door, silently listening for any movements. I vividly remembered closing my door in the morning. Maybe it was an assassin? But that wouldn’t make any sense. If an assassin was hired he’d go straight for Daenerys, not me.

Carefully, I stepped closer to the door, trying to not make a sound and catch the intruder's attention. I peeked through the gap between the wall and door, but saw nothing. No man dressed in robes waiting for me with a knife in my hand. I slowly pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t creek. 

The receiving room was empty, nothing out of its place. The bedroom was also, oddly, empty. I scanned the room for anything missing or changed, but the room was just as I had left it this morning. The only room that was left was the study. The door was slightly ajar and a faith wrestling could be heard. I took in a deep breath and pushed it open, expecting to see some man, but instead being met with a child. 

The kid, possibly around ten years old, rummaged through my drawers. She wore a simple, yet tethered, dress, her long hair tied back. Her hands stopped moving and her body stiffened as she’d been caught. I stared in disbelief, what the hell is this kid doing?

“What are you looking for?” My voice came out more rough than it should have, but I couldn’t care. Was this kid really going through my things? 

She didn’t reply, her eyes flickering back to the door behind me. I slammed the door shut, fully blocking any way out and asked again. “What are you doing?” 

She still didn’t reply, shaking in fear as if I’d kill her on the spot. She hid her hands behind her dress. I marched closer to her and she stepped back, her back almost hitting the wall. I reached out, grabbing her hands, surprising her. 

Scrolls that I’d written were clutched in her grasp, and in the small pockets of her dress. They ranged from menial things like day to day updates from either the Unsullied or Dothraki to sensitive subjects like Yara Greyjoy and her fleet's location or warplanes to take King’s Landing. 

I looked back at the child who seemed to be scared out of her mind, tears brimming her eyes. It was clear someone put her up to this. No child in their right mind would travel all the way up into the castle, know where my room and study were, and rummage through my stuff.

“Who set you up to this?” I lowered my tone, trying to seem less frightening. The child's eyes were a light gray with hints of lavender. Her hair was a light blonde and freckles danced around her face. By the looks of it she was either a Dragonseed or the descendant of one. 

“I’m not mad,” this time I tried in Valyrian. “I just want to know who told you to do this.” 

Her exterior flattered for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. I sighed, crouching down so that I was eye level to her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. And I won’t let anyone hurt you or your family. All you have to do is tell me who told you to do this.” 

She hesitates, and my grip on her hand loosen. I absentmindedly rubbed small circles around her wrists as a way to calm her. 

“The..” she stopped, scared that someone would hear, but I gave her hand a light squeeze, reassuring her. “The bald man. He said if I found him a special letter then he’ll bring me to my mother and father.” 

The bald man? Does she mean THE bald man?

“Do you mean the bald man that is with Queen Daenerys?” 

She nods. 

Fucking snake. 

She seems to notice that shift in my mood and quivers. I catch myself before I worsen my mood. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Alana.” 

I smiled, “what a beautiful name.” I stood up, reaching into the middle drawer that she didn’t go through and grabbed a tied handkerchief. I knelt down next to her and untied it revealing a few cookies and bit’s of chocolate. Her eyes lit up and she looked between the sweet treats and me.

“Here, you can have all of this, if you promise to not say a word, okay? You can’t tell anyone that I saw you tonight, especially the bald man.” 

She nods her head, eager to eat the cookies. 

“But, you have to do one teeny-tiny thing for me.” She looks up at me with her doe eyes. “You have to tell the Queen what you told me.” 

Panic, once again, sets in and she rapidly shakes her head. “No, she’ll-” 

“She won’t do anything,” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Her Grace doesn’t hurt children. She’ll protect you from the bald man. Both her and her dragons.” 

It took some convincing but she’d finally agreed. I placed her on my bed with the snacks and lit a few candles. I called for an Unsullied guard to go get Daenerys while I waited with her. 

“You said that the bald man would take you to your parents, where did they go?” 

She chews on a piece of chocolate and swallows. “They were taken by the man with the stag. He was bald too. He also had a daughter.” 

Stag, bald, and had a daughter. 

“Stannis.” I hummed. Knowing him, I’m sure that he’d executed them. Most of the villagers on the island are some form of Dragonseeds, bastards of the Targaryens and most definitely still loyal to them. It’s most likely that Alana’s parents had refused to bow to either Robert or to serve Stannis during his stint on Dragonstone and were killed as a result. 

The doors to my room opened and Daenerys, who was dressed in a robe and looked to have been pulled out of bed, walked in. “Did something happen?”  

I nod and stand up. Alana peeks at Daenerys from behind me, but quickly hides when they make eye contact. 

“I found her going through my things. Apparently, a friend of ours sent her to find something.” 

Daenerys looks between me and the little girl. “Who?” 

I turned back to Alana. “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell Her Grace what you told me, don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” 

The little girl holds her hands closer to her. “The bald man. He told me to look through the ladies' things.” 

“The bald man?” Daenerys repeats. She turns back to me. “Varys?” 

I nodded. “Seems like he’s interested in what I’ve been up to.”

Anger quickly takes over Daenerys and she turns to march down to his chambers. I grab her arm, “no wait.” 

“Wait?” She scoffed. “Varys is spying on my own people. He’s using children to do his dirty work and you want me to wait?” 

“Yes, I do. Dany, we can’t nail him yet.” 

She frowned. “Then what? We pretend that nothing’s happened?” 

“That’s exactly what we do. He doesn't know what we know now, we can use that to our advantage.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“Let him believe what he wants to. All we have to do is feed him the information that we want and take the information we need from him.” 

“And you are sure this will work?” 

I nodded. “Let the spider think that he’s spun his web, it’s only a matter of time before he gets too confident and makes a mistake.”

––

The next morning, after my morning sparring practice and breakfast with Daenerys, I was called down to the caves by Jon Snow. He and his men had made considerable progress mining the Dragonglass. Crates of the volcanic glass were placed around the path leading to the caves. The sound of pickaxes and chisels hammering against the cave walls echoed out from the cave entrance. 

Jon Snow stood by a few crates of what I assumed was freshly mined Dragonglass. He wore his usual attire; dark tunic underneath his black and brown leather armor, long black leather gloves and matching boots with dark trousers that had some wear and tear. He’d foregone his fur cloak and armored breastplate with House Stark sigil for the sake of practicality. 

Ser Davos, who stood in front of Jon, nodded my ways. He turned as I stepped closer, and their previous conversation came to a halt. 

“My Lady, thank you for coming.” 

I glanced around us. “You and your men seem to be making quite a bit of progress.” 

Jon nods, “we’re grateful that you and Queen Daenerys have allowed us to mine all of the Dragonglass.” 

“That’s not why you called for me is it?” 

“No.” He motions for me to follow him. We walk around a few crates, coming to a stop in front of a covered wagon, hidden from everyone. 

“We found these, deep in the caves. I’ve told my men who first found them to keep quiet about it.” 

Ser Davos opens the wagon’s doors and removes the cloth over the objects revealing a cluster of dulled dragon eggs. My eyes widened and I turned to Jon who also had the same shock written all over his face. 

“Is this all you’ve found?” 

“So far. We found these near the end of the cave before it split off into other directions.” 

I slowly nod, half focused on his words. My eyes ran over the eggs, five to be exact, all of them covered in dirt and stone. There were two lighter colored eggs, a white-gray and a pastel pink-purple. The other three were a dark navy blue, a dark green, and a pure black egg. I reached out and carefully grabbed the green egg, wiping away the dirt and debris the best I could. It left off a gold almost iridescent shimmer in the sun. The eggs themselves were hard, the outside covered in a scaled pattern. I gently turned the egg over in my hands, running my fingers over the surface.

I took in a deep breath, stunned. 

After Daenerys’ death, Dragonstone was handed off to The Crown. Over the decades, the castle had been turned into somewhat of a vacation home for the Royal Family. The Velaryon’s had contested the decision for many years, claiming that the castle was the last remnants of the Targaryen and of Valyria and that it should be preserved and handed to them as they were the closest to the extinct house. But in reality, they were more interested in exploring the castle than honoring it. 

They’d found Dragonegg’s littered all over the island, nestled away in the string of cave networks. Dragon bones and skulls dating back to the dragons the Targaryens first brought to the islands were also found in caves in the island's volcanic mountains. By the time the eggs were found they’d been completely fossilized and turned to stone. Taking inspiration from Daenerys, the Velaryons tried to hatch the dragons in secret, but lacked the (for a lack of better words) magic that the Targaryens held. 

But this, this was something else. 

I turned to Jon, who’d been watching me, “thank you.” He slightly bows his head, surprised by my sincerity. “Did you find anything else?”

“No, My Lady, that’s all we’ve run across.” 

I pressed my lips and nods, looking back down at the eggs. “Alright. Keep mining, but don’t go too deep.” I set the dragon egg back down, “now help me get these to Daenerys.” 

––

The five eggs, now properly cleaned of any dirt, sat in a chest between Daenerys and I. Her eyes stayed glued to the eggs as Jon recounted what he’d told me. But, like me, her focus was entirely on the eggs. She dismisses him, leaving the two of us. Silence hangs in the air for many moments, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Did you know that there were eggs on the island?” She finally asks. 

“I did,” I sat back, eyes flickering between the chest and her. “But I didn’t know where exactly they were. I just never knew that they were just.. right there.”

She hums. “They look like they’re turned to stone.” 

“We can still bring them back.” 

“Where would we keep them?” 

I shrugged. “I’m sure there's a few warming brazier’s laying around. We can chuck them in there while we deal with the Night King.” 

She looks up at me, “are you sure we can hatch them?” 

“Yeah, why not? Just need some good-old fashioned Valyrian blood magic.” 

Daenerys chuckles. “Alright, I’ll tell the servants to light a few warmers.” 

She stands from her seat, walking over and grabbing the dark blue dragon egg, turning it over in her hands. 

“How many of these are there?” She muttered. 

“Plenty,” I replied, standing up myself. “The entire island is littered with them.” 

“What?” 

I pour a glass of wine. “The caves under the island are almost littered with them. Some of them are in the caves up in the mountains.” 

I motioned her towards the window that faced mountains. “Jaehaerys’ dragon, Vermithor, used to dwell in a cave on that mountain. It’s said that he laid a clutch of eggs in there, but by the time we found them they were completely stone.” 

Daenerys steps forwards and peers out the window to the large mountain in the distance. “If the Dragonegg’s were here all along, then why did they die out?” 

I shrugged “Hell if I know.” I take a sip of the wine, leaning on the windowsill. “It’s rumored that after Rhaenyra’s death that the Targaryen's love and bond with the dragons was bruised, I guess you can say. People believe that the closer the dragons are to their riders, the stronger the magic. But after a civil war where the dragons pitted against each other and other riders, I guess the magic fizzled out.” 

“Well, that’s until you came around,” I motioned towards Dany with my glass. 

She stared off to where Vermithor’s cave was. “So many mistakes,” she muttered. “They made so many mistakes and it cost our house everything.”

“But you won’t do the same thing.” I said. 

She turned to me, determined. “No, I won’t.” 

––

The walls are jagged and raw, a clear contrast to the smooth walls of the castle. It’s dim, squinting my eyes to try and adjust to the lack of light. My footsteps echoed off of the walls. 

One, two, three, four… and five.

He lay on the cold ground on top of a sad looking chunk of hay that looked as if it was on its last legs. He’s wearing the same trousers and dirty tunic as he was when he was brought here. His chest has a slight rise and fall indicating he’s alive. His face caked in blood and dirt, making me grimace. 

“Wake up.” 

He doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Annoyed, I reach over to a bucket on the side of the entrance of his cell, grabbing a cup full of water. I splashed it on him through the cell doors. 

“I said, wake up.” 

He gasps, coughing and sits up straight, surprised. His head snaps over in my direction, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t make any effort to move out of the shadows and into the dim light. 

“You bitch!” 

I drag a chair over in front of the cell bars, crossing my legs as I sit. “That’s no way to address a Lady.” 

He scoffs. “Y’er the furthest thing from a Lady,” he licks his chapped lips. “But you’ve got a pretty face like one. Maybe once your Dragon Queen agrees to my offer I’ll fuck you both” 

I narrow my eyes, but bite my tongue. “And you really think that she’ll take you as, what did you say? A King?”

“I am a King!” He growls. 

“Any man who must say ‘I am the King’ is no true King.” I quote Tywin Lannister. 

“I am the King of Salt and Rock.” He brings his face closer to me into the light. 

“Your niece and nephew would argue otherwise.” I glare down at Euron. 

“That bitch and her cock-less brother? They’re nothing. I’ll kill them just like I killed their father.” 

“That ‘bitch’ is on her way to reclaim the Iron Islands, and her ‘cock-less brother’ handed you your own ass, landing you here, in a dungeon.” 

“She won’t make it.” He double downs. “The Ironborn don't follow women.” 

“We’ll see.” I lean in closer, eyeing him through the bars. “It’s a new dawn. Two Queens are fighting for the Iron Throne, most of Westeros’ noble houses are led by women. I think the Iron Islands won’t mind a woman leading them.” 

Euron pushes himself against the wall. “Won’t last long. They’ll get tired of her and crave for their true king.” 

I leaned forwards. “That awfully confident of you considering your predicament. It’s almost like you have something under your sleeve.” His demeanor shifts, a wave of arrogance and cockiness falling over him. 

He smirks. “Y’wanna know? Hm?” He runs his beady eyes down my figure and I tried not to shiver out of disgust. “Why don’t you do me a favor and I’ll tell you.” 

“Really?” I played along. “And why would I do that? Not to be too mean, but you don’t seem to be the type to be strategic, just dumb luck.” 

His eye twitches at my comment. He leans forwards, a crazed look in his eyes, as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “Cause it’s the one thing that will make your dragons mine.” 

Gotcha. 

“Let me guess, a Dragonbinder?” 

His face falls, shocked that I already knew about his “trump card” that not even Cersei knew about. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. 

“What? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty chatty before, what happened?” 

He recovers well, becoming more hostile. “Knowing about it won’t change a thing. I’ll get out of here and when I do, I’ll kill you and everyone in this fucking castle and feed you to your own fucking dragons!” 

I stare at him momentarily before smiling. “I’ll count on it.” I stand, getting ready to leave. “You’ve lost, Euron. I look forward to your coming execution. Sleep well till then.” 

––

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks, tethering between skepticism and fear.

I nodded. “I didn’t believe it either. From what I had heard it was purely a rumor, but he just confirmed for me.”

“A Dragonbinder?” Missandei raised a brow. “I don’t seem to be familiar with that item.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” I said. “It’s something like an ancient relic of Old Valyria. It’s a horn made of an enormous dragonbone and is six feet long. It’s said that whoever blows into it will have the power to control dragons, but I’ve never seen it before nor have I known anyone to have ever seen it, let alone have it in their possession.”

“And you believe Euron is hiding it somewhere?” Varys asks, hand folded in his lap.

“It’s alleged when he went to claim the Seastone Chair he presented the horn to impress his followers. How much of it is true is beyond me, but I think this is something we should keep a close eye on.”

“Has it ever been used?” Dany asks. 

“I don’t know. I’ve checked the reference library and found nothing.” 

“So the horn’s a sham?” Varys says. 

“We don’t know that,” I frowned. “A threat is a threat, regardless if it’s been documented or not.” I turned back to Dany. “Look, I’m telling you all I know. There’s possibly a Dragonbinder out there and it could turn your children against you.” 

Daenerys sighs, deep in thought. On one hand this could be a plausible threat. History has proven that anything that remains from Valyria could have the power to cause tremendous change while on the other hand, no one really knows if it exists and if it’s an actual threat to anyone. 

“If what you say is the truth then that means Euron and his men have a powerful weapon against me and my children. However, no one, but one man, knows where it is and we don’t know if it’s an actual threat or not. For now, we focus on the task at hand, Euron and the Dragonbinder can wait.” 

I nod, understanding. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.” 

––

The stars shone bright in the night sky, not a cloud in sight. The moon glimmered brightly, a perfect reflection in the deep ocean. It was one of those nights where everything was still, as if time had stopped. There was no sound, no wind, nothing, just pure silence. 

I took in a deep breath, relaxing my shoulders and leaned against the stone railing. My eyes trailed from the sky to the ocean, the beach, and then the cave entrance. Wagons and crates were left around along with what looked to be mining equipment. It wouldn’t be long until all of the Dragonglass would be mined away and then we’ll be marching North to face off against the Night King. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting you,” a voice called from behind. I turned around to see Daenerys walking closer to me. 

“No, you’re not.” I smiled. “It’s pretty late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same.” 

I turned back to stare off in front of me, “couldn’t sleep. Thought I would be able to after some fresh air, but the sleepiness hasn’t kicked in yet.” 

She comes to stand besides me, a comfortable silence falling over us. I looked back down at the cave entrance. 

“Since I’ve came here I've been debating whether the Gods are cruel or kind.” I let out a sigh. “On one hand, they’ve taken me from my friends, family, my home. The other, I’ve been given the opportunity to rewrite history, and right the wrongs of mankind.” I let out a humorless laugh and turned towards Dany. “But regardless of what’s happened, I’m glad I’m here to help you and make sure you don’t go through this alone.” 

She reached over to grasp my hand, reassuringly. I smiled, “whatever happens from here on out, I want you to know that. I love you, sister.”

Tears brimmed her eyes and she smiled. “I love you too. I pray that when this is over you can find a way back to your family.” 

“But you’d be all alone.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled bittersweet. “I’ve lost my family, I know the pain. I can’t have you going through that.” 

I swallowed thickly, looking up and blinked away my tears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the moon, above. 

I cleared my throat, “when I was a child, I visited my Ñāma, um my Grandmother, in Volantis. One night, when the sky was like this she told me a story about two sisters. The younger one was very sick and couldn’t be out during the day so she and her elder sister would go out at night, making sure not to go too far off from home. And every night, under the shade of a large tree, the elder sister would sing a lullaby to her little sister about the moon. And every night, the younger sister would say ‘The sun is for everyone, but we have the moon,’ and she’d fall asleep with a smile. One night, just like any other, the two sisters go out and the eldest sings a lullaby, except this time, the younger one never opens her eyes and passes in her sleep. And for the rest of her life, the eldest sister, before going to bed, would sing a lullaby to the moon, hoping it would reach her sister, because they always had the moon.” 

At this point tears were streaming down both of our faces, and I tried my best not to start crying. “Daenerys, wherever we are, we’ll always have the moon.” 

We both burst into tears, pulling each other into a tight embrace, crying in each other's arms under the glimmering moon.

so i've recently composed a "soundtrack" for this series (i put soundtrack in "" bc it's more like a medley) i'm thinking abt working on it while i work on this series, but lmk if u all want to hear it when it's complete or when i've given up.

ALSO!! since we're approaching the height of series (and the end) what should my next game of thrones/asoiaf series be?

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