#friend oc: tyrion

[aethersflames]

Friend, I beg of you, for the WIP Folder, please "It's A Beautiful Night For A Bloodbath", it sounds very interesting!

Crys! Hiii! Thanks for the ask, though I find it super funny that you're asking about that one out of all the others. Of course, that's not going to stop me from elaborating!

"It's A Beautiful Night For A Bloodbath" is essentially the novelisation (? closest term I can think of... basically converted-into-a-written-version) of the d&d campaign that'll never leave my head. absolute historic moment of my life, and I have to thank you for playing your part in it. <3

ah, for those who don't know what I'm going on about...

first things first, credit for the story itself goes to my irl best friend, who wrote the campaign proper - a crossover between the Forgotten Realms we all know and hopefully love, and a... rather obscure visual novel that holds a very special place in my heart.

the party: my aarakocra half-dragon sorcerer, Serrakah; @bunniletto's vampiric tiefling bard, Adrian; @shitty-drawer's half-elven cleric of Lathander, Tyrion; her friend's (who I'm not sure has a tumblr) elf rogue, Karina; and last but not least, your dearest bloodhunter dragon girlie, Cookie!

the premise: a masquerade ball in Baldur's Gate, hosted at the headquarters of a once-prestigious guild. but things go awry as the host - the sole survivor of a massacre of both guild staff and clients several years ago - is murdered on stage, and our ragtag group of adventurers must band together to venture deeper into the guild facility, discovering the dark secrets of its past, and for some, how it entwines with their own backstories...

also featuring: many fights against blue tieflings and mephits that say "poopyhead", using food as improvised weaponry, a friendly baby mimic, tripping on ice from the Nine Hells, and so. many. awkward moments of romantic tension between poor Serrakah and... well, my f/o, given the d&d treatment.

many of the finer details have slipped from my memory, but thankfully I've got the recordings of all three sessions - and if I cringe too much at the sound of my own voice in those, at least I've got your extensive notes to rely on! :D

[countrymusiclover]

27 - Land Lords meet Sea Lords pt 2

Part 28

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila

“That’s - that’s your father.  What - what if he doesn’t like me.  We could - we might lose the war if he doesn’t.” 

Shrugging my shoulders I snorted out a laugh having to tease him knowing it would calm his nerves. “You better make sure  Chezney doesn’t see you, the great young wolf is nervous.  She’ll never let you live it down, trust me.” He gulped thickly, focusing his gaze on Lord Monterys Velaryon. 

My father slowly walked up to us and crossed his arms over his chest eyeing me and Robb up and down. “Lord Stark,  At last we meet.  I am disappointed to see that you've lied to me about my daughter being pregnant though.” 

“Lord Monterys, I must apologize for that.  Something unfortunate happened after we sent that Raven letter to you.” Robb admitted and I was greatly he wasn't bringing up the fact that it was Jaime’s. 

My father made a face. “What occurred then?” 

“I lost the baby.  There was a miscarriage that occurred at Walder Frey's castle.” I replied, feeling Robb squeezing my hand that was holding his. 

My father sent me a weak look. “I'm sorry, dear daughter.” 

“It’s okay, father.” I sent him a weak smile.  “That’s not the only thing I know you not have been to chipper to hear that I was secretly married to Robb.  I just  - I never felt anything truly for Jaime Lannister.  But what - what I have with Robb is the real thing.  Can you understand that?” 

Monterys silently stared at the young wolf, raising his hand and gestures for him to come towards him so I removed my hand from his watching the two lords facing the other one.  “Robb,  what are your intentions for your relationship with my daughter?” 

“I want to make her happy, my lord.  I want us to have a family like I had before this war started between mine and the Lannisters.  I am not fighting this war to gain the Iron Throne.  I simply want to go home and free the people of the North from under its thumb.  So when Haelesa and I return to Winterfell all of this can simply be in our past.” Robb explained to the Sea lord in front of him. 

For the first time in my life I saw a smile grace my father’s features extending his hand outward.  “My family lost everything and is now a small army compared to what it was during the Targaryen reign.  I never thought I’d have pride in following another family like them in my lifetime, until I have met you today.  So my banner and men are yours, Lord Stark.” 

“Your loyalty and your men are greatly appreciated, Lord Monterys.” Robb shakes his hand firmly looking over his shoulder at me and Chezney standing a few steps behind him with his direwolf Grey Wind at my heels. “You don’t have to worry about your daughter, sir.  I’ll do right by her the way the Kingslayer should have been treating her when they became husband and wife, you have my word my lord.” 

My father smiled in my direction, removing his hand from the young wolf’s before I ran over and embraced him in a long awaited hug that I never thought I would have with him ever again since the day I had left my childhood home.  He lifted me up a little, squeezing me against his chest and kissing the crown of my head once I was back on my feet. 

“Chezney!” My best friend and I both turned our heads at the familiar male voice that came through the crowd of men. 

My best friend gasped when she saw Antler, my father's top guard and the man she was in a relationship with until the day we left Driftmark came up to her not caring about anyone else in front of him. “Antler.  What  - what are you  - how are you here?” 

“If my Lord is traveling across the world I have to follow him.   I've missed you so much, Chez.” He scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around for a few minutes before sitting her down on her feet. 

She paused, releasing a gasp from her lips. “I - I missed you too.” I bit my lip hearing the hesitation in her voice when she spoke towards him.  Deep down I knew her heart belongs to another now and her feelings that she had for him had disappeared. 

It was late at night before the sun had fully set that Chezney and I decided to take a nightly stroll through the castle to just simply chat with each other.  Her mother had kept me in my lady lessons for almost the whole day, leaving my best friend to entertain herself for a few hours.  “I appreciate the efforts your mother is making to teach me.  But I think some of it is a bit much.” 

“Do you mean when she tells you to curtsy before a Lord or King or forces you to wear uncomfortable gowns every single day?” She sticks her tongue out doing a bald curtsy still walking beside me. 

I laughed, shaking my head at her best impression of her mothers voice during the lessons. “You know me so well, Chez.” 

“What else are best friends for?” She grinned back at me. 

I raised a brow seeing a brightness in her eyes that was something new about her.  “What has made your eyes so bright these recent days.  Have you found a boy you have feelings for?” 

Chezney blushed looking at her shoes. “There is someone but he’s way above my station so we’ve been meeting in secret.” 

“Please don’t be involved with my brother.” I blurted out that even though I cared for him I didn’t want her to get hurt given that my brother had a few kids with other girls in the castle. 

She held her hands up in surrender, calming my nerves. “Easy there, Hael.  It’s not your brother.  It’s your father’s guard, Antler.” 

“He does his job honorably, that's for certain.  I’m happy for you.” I flashed her a smile and she looped her arm through mine and we kept walking through the castle.  I wish we could go back to being so innocent and young but still be with the people we currently cared about. 

Sitting in front of the fireplace in a wooden chair that was at the wooden table until I dragged it over where it was now.  The large wooden door opened causing me to glance over my shoulder and see Robb entering the room once he had shut it behind him. “How was your time speaking with my father?” 

“It went better than I expected to say the least.  I must admit though he did scare the shit out of me almost when we first started talking while you were there.  But it does give me relief that he is now pledging his men to our cause.” Robb explained while in the process of removing his boots and cloak that he had on till he hung it up on the wall hook. 

I rose from my current seat heading over to him but I kept my hands to myself given that we weren’t still on good terms between the two of us. “My father will follow whoever can ensure our house's survival.   But um Robb - I have to ask what exactly is happening between us.  Are you going to work to earn my trust back or not?” 

“Haelesa,  I know I haven’t been the husband you deserve.  Given that we are in the middle of a war I can’t do a big gesture but I can do one thing.” 

Crossing my arms over my chest I raised a brow. “And what exactly is that?” 

“Haelesa Velaryon.” Robb closed almost the whole distance between us, lowering himself down on one knee after taking both my hands in his larger ones.  His soft gray-blue eyes focused upon mine. “We spoke vows before the old gods and the new that weren’t for each other.  I’m making my own vows to you now.  I, Robb Stark of Winterfell, swear to be a better husband to you.  I swear to be loyal to you, love you, and defend your name and honor.”

Nodding my head at him I squeezed his hands in mine praying we could begin to trust each other like we once had.  “I swear to do the same for you, young wolf.” Robb rose from the floor gently cupping my face in his hands, gently kissing me and I hesitate to kiss him back instantly but still kiss him in the end. 

[teammiracle]

[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[starogeorgina]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Baratheon OC

Warnings: None

1.02

You watch as the hot wax runs onto the surface of the rolled-up scroll, the color of which is much like blood. You press a stamp onto it and wait for the impression of a stag to set into the wax.

“Sending another letter to King's Landing?”

Looking over your shoulder, you smile. “Uncle, I had no idea you were there.”

In jest, he wags his finger. “You’re a very bad liar. Deceit wasn’t a Lannister trait you inherited.”

“Well, as my mother likes to remind me, I am my father’s daughter.” Your uncle was right; you were an awful liar. And you knew it was him approaching because Meraxes always hissed at him. “But no, I’m sending this to Winterfell.”

Tyrion places the jug of wine he brought with him in the middle of the small table. He sits across from you, smirking, “Oh, pray tell. The king's daughter, who’s going to marry a prince, sends love letters to her former betrothed. How scandalous.”

When you are happy that the scroll is securely sealed, you place it with the other two you wrote. “You sound like a gossiping lady at court, uncle.”

“That is not a denial, Cassana.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Of course I’m not writing to Robb; I’m writing to Jon.”

Not long after your tenth name-day, Lord Stark traveled south with two of his sons, his eldest son Robb, and his bastard Jon Snow. You liked both of the lord's sons, but only Robb made you blush. Your father had proposed to betroth you to Robb, but your mother fought against it for years until she finally got her way and you were promised to another.

“Ah yes, Ned Starks bastard. Do let me know if you ever find out who the boy's mother is." He takes a large gulp of wine, then lets out a satisfied sighing noise. “That truly has been a mystery at court.”

“And betray my friends' trust? Never,” you chuckle. “I’ve written to my father and siblings, but I’ve yet to receive anything back.”

“If it’s any consolation, I very much doubt my sister is letting them receive it. I’m sure Myrcella and Tommen would both be thrilled to know you’ve written to them.”

“I hope so.”

Tommen and Marcella were both you and impressionable; you didn’t want them to think you’d abandon them deliberately, gone to start a new life while leaving them behind without a second thought.

—

Burying your toes into the sand, you enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding your feet. You lean to the side and dip your finger into the cool water of the pond, causing a ripple effect on the surface. After a few moments, you watch as several colorful fish swim closer to your finger to investigate; one of them brushes against it, causing you to giggle slightly.

Feeling eyes on you, you look up and see Ellaria walking in the opposite direction across a wooden bridge. She was looking over her shoulder and glaring right at you.

The people of Dorne were rightfully still furious about the horrific deaths of Elia Martell and her children, and the anger was aimed in the direction of house Lannisters. Which has resulted in you being very lonely. Most people were indifferent or just outright hostile towards you. The only people who spoke to you daily were your uncle Tyrion and your lady-in-waiting. But you were the daughter of the king, so no matter how you felt, you needed to hold your head up high and not let them see how badly you were hurting.

“Princess.”

“Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn stands in front of you with his hands behind his back gracefully. Your mouth goes dry. Oberyn was tall and slender, with lustrous black hair. Even now, with his eyes squinting slightly because of the sun shining in them, you avoid his gaze, afraid you’d get drawn in by the darkness of them.

“Where is Lord Tyrion?”

A Dornish beauty who works in a pillow house had caught your uncle’s eye, so he would be most likely absent for the rest of the day. You click your tongue. “He has gone to drink the finest wine and bed the most beautiful woman.”

“Oh,” he laughs.

Your gaze remains on the pond as the prince sits down beside you. Oberyn was very flirtatious with both men and women; however, a mere simple interaction would cause your cheeks to burn.

“I’ve got you a gift,” he says, pulling a book from behind his back and giving it to you. “When we first met, you said your septa only told you what they wanted you to know.”

You read the title out loud, “The Songs of Robert's Rebellion.”

Oberyn seems intrigued as he watches your reaction closely. His intention was never to offend you, but when he heard the book had been written, he thought you might find it interesting.

You straighten your shoulders up, place the book on your lap, and look up at him, finally locking eyes, and it’s him. “They say my father had the strength of a giant; the weapon he used in battle was a spiked iron warhammer that was so heavy that Lord Stark could barely lift it himself. In his youth, my father was known to be quite fearless.”

“I dare say he was.”

Your lips press together into a thin line. It was easy for you to get carried away talking about your father. You want to believe the version of his heroics that the septa told you, but it was just a lie. They knew it, you knew it, and Prince Obryen knows it, but no one dares speak the truth.

“Are the two of you close?”

“Yes, we are. Are you close with your daughters?” It was common knowledge that the prince had several bastard daughters. You had briefly met his eldest, Obara, whom Obryen fathered at the age of thirteen.

“They are my whole world.”

“All my life, I’ve heard King Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. But he doesn’t feel that way.” Your father shared that he never felt so alive as when he was winning his throne, but from the moment he sat on the iron throne, he felt dead inside.

“Even a man with a reputation such as the king has a softness to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have named his firstborn daughter after his mother.”

Crossing your arms over you, you hold the book to your chest and smile softly. “Thank you for the gift; it was a thoughtful gesture.”

[inkandarsenic]

these hollow empty spaces (2)

“do what is right, not what is easy.”

Synopsis: The youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister refuses to stand idly by, and the currents of fate shift.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Lannister!OC

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers but like enemies more in the political sense

Pt. 2

masterlist | previous | next

Jaime was outside her door at precisely the moment people were beginning to gather for the feast. Eleyna rolled her eyes but took his arm.

“I am perfectly capable of making my way down to the Great Hall myself, you know,” she told him, exasperated amusement coloring her tone.

“And let the opportunity to escort my beautiful little sister pass me by?” Jaime shot back. He glared at a passing serving boy who dared to look at Eleyna for longer than a second. “Say the word, sister, and I’ll walk you in just as originally planned.”

“You would risk offending our hosts and go against Cersei’s wishes?” Jaime said nothing. They both knew he wouldn’t go against Cersei for Eleyna. His protectiveness of his younger sister knew one bound — his twin. “I thought not.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Jaime handed her off to Robb Stark with a warning glare that made the man swallow hard, and Eleyna sighed, pushing at her brother’s shoulder until he joined Tyrion.

“My apologies for my brother, my lord,” she said quietly as she took his arm. The pale gold of her dress sleeve was a nice contrast to the dark grey of Robb’s shirt. “He is… protective. I’m sure you understand, what with having four younger siblings yourself.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “It’s no harm done, my lady, I understand completely. And please, call me Robb.” He quirked half a grin and tilted his head toward her. “If we’re to be friends, we should drop the formalities, don’t you think?”

“Oh, we’re to be friends, are we?” Eleyna raised an amused eyebrow and Robb’s grin grew. She’d been right — it lit up his face. “Rather forward of you to assume.”

“Well, your nephew has just been betrothed to my sister,” Robb said logically. “We’ll be family someday. We ought to be friendly, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Eleyna conceded. Robb’s grin grew a little smug. The doors opened, Lord Stark began to walk Cersei in, and Robb and Eleyna took their place behind Robert and Lady Stark. Eleyna hummed thoughtfully as they entered the Great Hall, then nodded once. “Call me Eleyna, then. If we’re to be friends, that is.”

Robb walked her to her seat and leaned down to be heard over the noise of the feast. “Enjoy the feast, Eleyna.”

She watched him go — only looking away when he took his own seat and she risked being caught — and pointedly did not acknowledge Tyrion's smirk and Jaime's disgruntled expression.

****

Arya complained the entire way to the Great Keep about having to leave the feast early. Robb did the responsible older brother thing and pointed out that if she wanted to stay, perhaps she shouldn’t have thrown food at Sansa, and really, she wasn't missing much by leaving now. All this earned him was a glare, but Arya was at least in her room and he himself could return to the festivities.

A flash of gold caught his eye, and he turned to it instinctively.

Eleyna Lannister, with her golden hair and her golden dress, was walking in the courtyard, a handmaiden trailing several feet behind her. He changed course and joined her. “Y’weren’t enjoying the feast, then, Eleyna?”

“I enjoyed it just fine, Robb,” she replied. He liked the way his name sounded, in her softly accented voice. “I just wanted some air. And quiet, before I retire for the night.” She shot him a vaguely amused look. “You Northerners are very…”

“Loud?”

Eleyna hummed airily. “I was going to say high-spirited, but yes, loud works, too.”

Robb laughed. “You’ll have to forgive us if we got carried away, it’s not often we host a king and his family.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Eleyna replied. “Robert frequently holds feasts in the Red Keep, and they are frequently boisterous affairs. I suppose I’m just not quite used to them, even after two years.” She shrugged, a somehow distinctly ladylike movement Robb rather thought Sansa would be jealous of. “I grew up in Casterly Rock, where things were… quieter. It was just myself, my uncle Kevan, my father and my brother Tyrion for most of my childhood.”

Robb cast another glance at her. A late summer snow was beginning to flurry through the air, and Eleyna had snowflakes in her hair. “The queen and the kingsla-Ser Jaime didn’t visit often?”

Her eyes flicked to him briefly — she’d definitely caught the slip. “No. They stayed in King’s Landing.”

“What of your mother?”

“She died when I was young.”

"Ah.” Robb cursed himself mentally — what a way to bring the mood down. "My condolences."

"It's fine," she said, waving it away. “It was years ago, and I hardly remember her."

Robb frowned. Something about that didn’t seem genuine. "My condolences anyway."

There was a pause during which he got the distinct impression that he’d surprised her, before she said a soft, "Thank you."

A sharp wind blew through the courtyard and Robb used Eleyna’s slight shiver to change the topic. “It’s cold out tonight. Let me walk you back to your room, my lady.” At her raised eyebrow, he amended his statement with a sheepish smile and an offered arm. “Eleyna. Please.”

The conversation flowed easily as they made their way unhurried to the guest house. Robb had almost worried it would be made awkward by his bringing up her mother, but thank the gods, it hadn’t been. He liked Eleyna, he was realizing — she was pretty and engaging, she was easy to talk to, he liked the bemused expression she wore when he said something particularly flirtatious, he liked her westerlands accent, he even liked the way she sometimes smiled like she was simply indulging him. In another life, he imagined, one where he wasn’t Ned Stark’s son and she wasn’t Tywin Lannister’s daughter, he would be asking his father to petition Lord Tywin for her hand.

By the time Robb actually made it back to the Great Hall, nearly an hour after he’d left with Arya, his mind was stuck on snowflakes melting in golden curls and a soft, faintly amused smile.

****

Her footsteps echoed through the halls of the Red Keep.

Every highborn lord and lady in the city — and a good number of the smallfolk at that — was attending the Hand's tourney. Eleyna herself was meant to be there, to support Jaime and represent House Lannister as the heir apparent, but a quiet fury had been burning in her blood ever since she'd been allowed to see her father's ledgers — so much gold and resources sunk into the Iron Throne over the last 14 years, and none of it paid back — and the heat was only going to make her mood worse. No need to argue with Cersei in public.

"Lady Eleyna?"

She stifled a groan and turned around, polite smile in place. She'd thought the keep empty, but no, there was Ned Stark and his loyal guard, walking up on her. "Lord Stark. How lovely to see you again."

Last she'd seen him, he'd been standing alone in the courtyard of Winterfell, hollow-looking with preemptive grief for young Bran. She and a few of her guards had left a full week before the royal retinue, and Bran had been freshly comatose, but Ned Stark had still insisted on seeing her off like a proper host. The rest of the Stark family had not been present, not that she'd expected them to — Lady Stark had not left Bran's room since he'd been found, and the two Stark girls had been in their lessons along with Myrcella. Robb had withdrawn and busied himself with training and preparing to be the Lord of Winterfell, so she had not even spoken to him since Bran had been found.

"What a surprise to see you again," Lord Stark countered. "You left Winterfell for Casterly Rock so quickly, I thought you'd remain there for some time."

"Yes, well, someone was needed to support my brother Jaime for the Lannisters in an official capacity," she said, regarding him with an almost challenging expression. "What with Tyrion... otherwise occupied." Held prisoner by Lady Stark, more like. The unsaid words hung in the air for a long moment before Eleyna's expression dropped into a friendly smile. "Who better than the heir?"

"Hard to provide support from the Keep, isn't it, my lady?"

"A tourney in your name, and yet you're also in the Keep," she pointed out. Ned Stark was regarding her with a measure of suspicion she really felt was unwarranted. She shifted her expression to something more compassionate and changed the subject. "I was very pleased to hear that your son has awoken."

"Were you?" Eleyna blinked and started to frown, but Ned Stark shook his head and smiled before she could comment on his strange response. "Thank you, my lady. We are all overjoyed that Bran lives."

"Right," she nodded slowly. "And may I offer my congratulations on your appointment as Hand?"

"Likewise, for your appointment to heir." There was an odd light in his eyes as he looked at her. “I was surprised to hear you had been named Lord Tywin's heir apparent. I would have thought Lord Tyrion would have that position. He won't be upset to learn that he's been passed over?"

Eleyna's smile grew fixed. "My siblings and I have all known since I was a child that I would one day inherit Casterly Rock. It was hardly a surprise to us, but the formal acknowledgement will not endear me to my brother, no."

The odd expression hadn't faded. "You're Tywin's daughter by his second wife, aren't you? The Ashford girl that King Aerys made him take as wife?"

“Yes.”

“Maryana Ashford was said to be brown haired and brown eyed, and yet you…” He waved a hand in her general direction. “You look remarkably like your siblings.”

“My uncle has told me that were I not colored like a Lannister, I would be her spitting image,” Eleyna replied. “And as I’m sure you know, most of the Ashfords are also blonde, if brown-eyed.” She shrugged. “I cannot control the features I was born with. Lannister blood runs strong, I suppose.”

“Clearly,” Ned said flatly. “Your sister’s children certainly look Lannister to their core.”

“Cersei has jested more than once that Robert’s genes were used up on his natural-born children,” Eleyna said in a conspiratorial manner. “Easier to tell the trueborn from the bastards that way, she says.”

“Easier, indeed.” Ned Stark gave her a tight smile and a nod. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady.”

He walked past her down the hall, head bent toward his guard as he spoke. Eleyna watched him go, bewildered. That man could not be more different than Robert — she struggled to see how the two could have been best friends, brothers, at any point. She shook her head and turned to finally make her way out to the tournament.

****

That conversation was at the forefront of her mind as she stood with Cersei and Sansa Stark on the steps of the Sept. Had Ned Stark suspected, even then, that Joffrey wasn’t Robert’s chosen heir? “Lannister to their core,” he’d said. Had Robert told his oldest friend that he didn’t want Lannister blood on the throne?

That had to be why he’d challenged Joffrey’s right to the throne after Robert died — Robert’s dying wish, apparently, not that Cersei would let anyone believe it. Not for a second did Eleyna believe that Eddard Stark, paragon of honor, had committed treason.

Eleyna made eye contact with Ned Stark just before he confessed to a crime he didn’t commit. His eyes flicked to her left, where Sansa was smiling tremulously at her father. Eleyna’s heart sank — he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. She gave the barest nod.

Even Cersei looked shocked when Joffrey called for Lord Stark’s head — she and Varys both started trying to reason with Joffrey to no avail. Sansa started sobbing. Eleyna caught her as she started to step forward, turning the girl into her shoulder to stop her from watching.

Ned Stark’s head hit the ground.

taglist: @dipperscavern @justmymindandstuff @thecrownprincessbride

[greenaswildfire]

Ok, enough, that's enough. I'm gonna commission my friend to draw my maid OC in this universe, I'm tired of tragedy after tragedy after tragedy for Aegon and no catharsis, how long will I have to wait, or what? :/

And Alicent, I luv her, I really do because I know writers write her this way on purpose, but Aemond was right: she simps for Rhaenyra so much that her advices aren't safe in terms of war (Sept scene as example, you could have ended the war with a single scream that Rhaenyra was there, you don't care for your family or what!!!!!!), she's like S7-S8 Tyrion when Daenerys said he was working for the Lannisters. If she can't give non-biased advices, don't be part of the Council. Let's remember, again, that things could have been really different if Rhaenyra were deleted during the Sept scene.

And Aemond, I like his vibe, I like his strategic mind, his father-son bond with Cole, his bond with grandma Vhagar, but I like him only when I don't have to compare him with Aegon. If I have to choose, I'll always like Aegon more. Aemond's attempts to get attention are not helping at all, he'll always be the second :/

[swallow17]

I miss when we actually loved to read.

It's a strange feeling, y'know. Maybe it's because I'm getting old and I'm starting to think that everything was much better in the old days, but I really feel as if this was better back then. In the good ol' days.

I was never one of the pretty girls. Don't get me wrong, I was pretty; I've always been pretty, probably in the same way that you are. But my complexion was kinda dark for the nineties the earty 2000s, and also, my personality was freaking weird. Gifted, they'd say, but also with the spicy ADHD that made me annoying. Talkative but pedantic, interested in things that were… well, I never loved dolls and makeup. I loved fantasy and fairy tales, SciFi and space operas, talking about adventures with the boys. So I was never one of the pretty girls.

I was one of the geek ones, I'm afraid. Being raised in a small town in Spain, the fact that I preferred to spend my hours reading and drawing didn't sit well with my classmates, who thought I believed myself to be "better than them". Maybe a small part of me did it, 'cause I was a girl then and a teenager years later, and those tend to be a little self-centered. I was almost completely alone, but I really didn't mind. I had a friend who loved comics and was kind enough to let me talk about books non-stop, and I had another one who was a nerd and was always happy to remind me that I actually needed to do my homework. They didn't really talk to each other, so I was basically alone with one, or alone with the other, or alone. And it was fine by me, even though sometimes I missed having someone who loved the things I loved. And when the internet entered in our lives, I discovered I wasn't the only geek girl around.

Are you old enough to remember the early 2010s? The golden era of the fandoms. I discovered then that there were more geek girls who'd actually love to talk about books non-stop; people who'd answer my comments and questions and crazy theories, not just let me ramble. People who'd write fan fictions and read mine. People who'd theorize about Tyrion being Aerys' child, who'd write an entire fan fiction about Tywin and Joanna - I lost that one and I'd really, really love to find it again. People who would love to talk about Katniss' decision, who would side with Gale or Peeta. I even read Twilight and wrote some passionate defences of Jacob being the actual good one for Bella. A friend of mine got the mockingjay tattoed. Yeah, of course, some of those books were "just for girls" and girls were shamed for loving them; some of them were "elevated" and men loved them too, so girls were allowed to talk about them without being labelled as "annoying" of "hysterical".

The thing is that those lasted for ages. Each book we read was there for many months, years even, and it was a sort of collective experience. We were writing about them on blogs, on forums. And we were doing it together. I even took part in an online role game that consisted on writing chunks of text, in the form of a fan fiction, about our OCs in the Hunger Games universe. It was about the books. It was about the characters, about the ideas. And the mark those left in my generation was kind of… permanent, I guess. But then, for some reason, it all vanished. And it didn't give way to something better.

I hate going on booktok. Or bookstagram. Or booktube. Or booktwt - is that a thing still? I always feel as if I'm far, far behind. Books appear in 30 seconds videos and they're the best freaking thing ever, and then they disappear. All of them are the best, but they never stay for more than a month. There's always a new release, a new and shiny special edition that we need to buy. Fandoms shift so quickly I never have the chance to talk about the story I just loved. I don't even feel that there's a fandom anymore; there is this new influencer who wants the crown for discovering this new saga. It's their saga, y'know; and no one else can't talk about them, 'cause they discovered it. It's not collective anymore; we're not together talking about books, but following that bookfluencer who'll try to make us feel the need to buy more books, so the big publisher will send them more free books.

And the stories fall into the void.

Do you remember the Grishaverse, when it started? I thought it'd bring back the fandom era, that we would be heartrenders, tidemakers and alkemis, as we once were Ravenclaws, tributes, demigods or Martells. But it didn't happen - though I have to admit that the fanarts are pretty impressive. Then the Netflix series came and I felt hopeful again. I felt the same with the House of the Dragon series. But it didn't happen. The marketing teams tried to make us pick a side and most people did, but it feels more as if they're rooting for their football team and less as if they're loving a series based on a great book.

I don't know. Maybe the thing is that I'm old now, that I've to work eternal hours and that I don't find the time to read anymore, so I can't follow the pace of the rest of the world. But when I see those amazing fanarts of Meleys and Moondancer, when I see them swallowed by the algorithm, falling into the void… I can't help but think that the old days were, in fact, the good ol' days. Those days when a book came to stay. Those days when we were readers and not consumers, when we were talking about the things we loved, and not following the next trend.

I really don't want more special editions. I really don't want the next best seller. The next Tolkien. I don't want any of that.

I just want to find the feeling I had when I was fourteen and talking non-stop about books with people who'd talk me back.

Those days seem something from a book right now.

And I really want to go back there.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Warrior of the Mind

TITLE: Warrior of the Mind PAIRING: Oberyn/Goddess!OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Facing off with the Mountain, Oberyn has more than just luck on his side.

[A/N - Inspired by "Warrior of the Mind" from Epic: The Musical.]

Oberyn stepped into the arena. Today was the day he would face off against the man who had raped and murdered his beloved sister Elia and her children.

You must be careful, my Viper, her voice whispered in his mind. He glanced up at the sky.

Guide my spear, my Goddess.

Follow my instructions and you shall have your vengeance. I have guided you to this moment. You will be able to sleep at night and you will no longer require me.

I shall always require you, my Goddess. He heard her laugh.

You’ve no need to flatter me, my Viper.

Through the years, she had become more than a mentor. He saw her as a friend, as foolish as that sounded.

I want to see you again.

Win for me. Take down the man who took the one you loved the most. Then we shall meet again face to face.

Oberyn had only seen her face-to-face once in his life when he was much younger.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Dorne, there were legends of a mighty boar in the Wilds. Whoever went searching for it never returned or if they did, they soon died of injuries.

So Oberyn took his spear and went searching for the boar, despite Doran and Elia trying to talk him out of it. When he came upon a clearing, he felt like he was being watched.

“I know you’re there. Come out,” he called. He looked around, pretending to be searching for the boar until he stopped. “There you are.”

A woman manifested out of the shadows. She was dressed in a flowing white gown with hair the color of dragon fire and cool blue eyes.

“How could you see me?” Oberyn smiled.

“I couldn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You must be very clever or very foolish to try and trick me.”

“I’d like to think I’m a little of both.”

“What is your name?”

“Tell me yours and I will tell you mine.”

Finally, the woman sighed. “I admire your wit. For that I will give you my name. I am Maean.”

Oberyn’s eyes went wide. “An Old God?”

“We still live among you. Despite what the mortal rulers of this world would have you believe.” Her eyes zeroed in on his spear. “You are a warrior.”

Oberyn expertly twirled the spear in his hands. “I don’t like to boast…”

“Dedicate your life to me and I will make you the most skilled warrior in this world.”

“Dedicate my life to you?”

“You will best every opponent if only you pledge your life and your spear to me.”

Oberyn considered it for a moment, before finally kneeling. “I pledge my life and my spear to you, my Goddess.”

“I vow to serve as your mentor until the time comes where you no longer need me.” She placed a hand on his head. “Rise, my Viper.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oberyn was shaken out of his recollection by the thumping footsteps of the Mountain.

The trial by combat began.

Oberyn danced around his opponent, like a viper toying with his next meal. Maean talked him through it the whole time, pointing out weak spots in armor. Oberyn struck the killing blow and the Mountain fell back dead.

The arena was silent for a moment.

Oberyn threw his spear aside as Ellaria ran to him. She kissed him passionately.

Tywin Lannister stood up. “Prince Oberyn of Dorne is the winner.”

“And Tyrion is free to go?” Oberyn asked.

Tywin’s smile was tense. “Of course. You’ve won the trial by combat.”

“He’s lying,” a female voice said.

It was a voice Oberyn frequently heard in his mind. He turned and saw her there.

She had appeared out of thin air, dressed in a flowing white gown. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were draped in gold.

“And who might you be?” Tywin asked.

“I am Maean, Goddess of Conquest.” She came to stand in front of Oberyn. “You will let Tyrion of House Lannister go with peace.”

“Or what?”

A flaming sword appeared in her hand. “Or you will lose your head. Along with anyone else who stands in my way.”

Tywin and the Goddess stared at each other for a few moments before he sat down.

Maean led Oberyn, Tyrion, and Ellaria out of the arena, flaming sword in hand. Once they were safely away from any that would harm them, Maean let the flaming sword disappear.

She turned to Oberyn. “You have done well, my Viper. You no longer require my services.”

Oberyn shook his head. He knelt down before her. “I pledge my life and my spear to you, my Goddess.”

“You have fulfilled your oath.”

Oberyn took her hand in his. “I will continue to serve you in whatever way you need me. You are not just my mentor, but my friend.”

Maean cocked her head to the side, making her seem a lot younger than she was. “Friend? Gods do not have friends.”

Oberyn smiled. “You have made one of this mere mortal.”

“Friends.”

Oberyn nodded. “I hope to have the blessing of your company every now and then.”

“Very well. I shall visit you, but my obligation to you has ended. I will no longer be able to ensure your protection.”

“I think I shall manage.”

Maean smiled. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Goodbye, my Viper.”

“Farewell, my Goddess.”

Maean faded with the wind.

Oberyn stood up and turned to Ellaria, who had a smirk on her face. “A Goddess? Oberyn, you have left me out of all the fun.”

Oberyn looked at the sky.

Even though she would no longer be a voice in his head, he knew Meaen would not leave him.

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

13, 15, and 19 for lovely Abigail?

13) Does your OC have a good relationship with their parents or no?

Well, we all know Abigail's mother died, she died in childbirth. Abigail has a wonderful relationship with Tyrion. Sometimes it's more like he wants to be her friend and not her father. For the first several years of her life she didn't even call him father, but she called Cersei 'mother.' that was of course Cersei's idea, it was something that definitely hurt Tyrion. But by the time of the first book, Abigail's around 16, and Tyrion is basically her number one person.

15) Has your OC ever fallen in love before who their intended love interest is, or is the intended love interest their first love?

I'll say it right now, Abigail's role models for love are terrible and she's definitely not good at it either.

So, Abigail is the type to fall hard, fast. I'll start with Joffrey because he can technically be considered her first love. Abigail and Joffrey grew up attached at the hip and many thought that they'd get married one day. The biggest pusher of this was Cersei, who basically just wanted them to be like her and Jamie. As manipulative as their relationship was in later years, Abigail still loved him.

Her second 'love' was Robb Stark...they knew eachother for a week. Abigail had her eyes set on the position of Lady of Winterfell the second she heard Robert was thinking of betrothing Joffrey to Sansa and the royal family was taking a trip north. She did her research and practiced and had a wardrobe made in advance-- she didn't really expect to fall for Robb but boy did she. She was DEVASTATED when Cersei betrothed her to Tommen. Literally cried herself to sleep that night.

Her third 'love' was Sansa Stark. This-- is a bit complicated and I'm not sure if it even really counts as love. Abigail wanted to be Sansa's friend, though they didn't really get along at the beginning despite Abigail's best attempts. She doesn't even really consider having feelings for Sansa until Robb's death. Her feelings are mainly just rooted in Sansa's relation to Robb.

The last one I'll touch on right now is Tommen. It takes a long time for Abigail to see him as anything other than her little cousin (I promise I aged him up for this--) even after they're married. But we all know Tommen and Abigail are endgame. I think they balance eachother very well.

Now a few friends have suggested Abigail have a pollycule (idk how to spell) adding Dany and Griff and a couple others. Idk if I'll do that but I do love a good pollycule

19) Does your OC have any close friends?

Other than her ladies in waiting, Eragon and Osferth are Abigail's ride or dies. They're like her older brothers. They've always been there and next to Tyrion, they're her biggest support system. She doesn't stand for anyone that gives them shit for being bastards. She knights Osferth (why she's allowed to do that is a whole nother story) and makes Eragon the head of entertainment in the Red Keep, their biggest dreams.

[15-lizards]

After your last post about Westeros sonas I am sooooo curious about yours please tell us more give us the goss. I wanna learn more about that Bolton girl she sounds insane (complimentary)

When anyone asks about my ocs/sonas my love for them grows ten times bigger 🫶

1. Cassana Bolton weirdest little freak ever. She is such a sweet and gentle girl but no one ever knows what the fuck she’s talking about. Got Autism On Lock even when she’s not speaking in prophecies and riddles. In my made up Westeros Roose is father of the year to her actually, he’s #1 Girl Dad and she idolizes him bc we love healthy father daughter relations here. Her prophecies come to her randomly and usually come true (catch it Melisandre) even if they are hard to decipher. People come to her from all over asking for their fortunes and fates, and they usually leave confused. One time she met a trader from Pentos and told him his future so he gave her a Little Valyrian as payment so now she just has a lemur on her wherever she goes. Roose brings her along when the war starts, and she gives Robb cryptic advice which he takes seriously bc he respects weird women, and Cat thinks she’s like a strange little pet (affectionate). She has a vision of the red wedding but Roose makes her keep it to herself and she kinda starts to slip a bit after that whoops

2. Magda Baratheon my most beloved. Youngest sister of the Baratheon bros just push the whole “finding Rhaegar a wife in Essos” scenario a few years. Bold and stubborn and classically Baratheon hard headed with a sharp whit and sharper tongue to cover up her Loneliness 💔😔 raised in the Red Keep after Robert took the throne but never really had any sort of parental figures. Robert didn’t care enough to raise her, Stannis was more like a strict and distant uncle who just made sure she was being properly primed for an eventual marriage, and Renly only thought about her occasionally, coming and giving her gifts and some attention before getting bored. Became very sociable to make up for this. Runs the red keep insane with her clique of other noble sons and daughters and all their youthful shenanigans (along with her three giant hounds she named after the conquerors dragons). She drives Cersei up the fucking wall but Tyrion thinks she’s the best. After the events of GOT, she goes to Renly but after he gets murked Stannis comes to take custody of her, eventually selling her north for a marriage alliance. Despises her husband, but he takes the threats beyond the wall seriously, and supplies men and arms, leading them to spend most of their time practically living there. She has to give birth at the fucking wall TWICE and they’re both daughters so her husband doesn’t really gaf. However Snow Patrol become her good friends and are the Fathers Who Stepped Up. Also I have a fucked up idea where something tragic happens and one of her daughters dies and she realizes it’s her husbands fault but he is just like we can have another kid and she goes batshit and stabs him before RIPPING HIS FUCKING THROAT OUT WITH HER TEETH because I just like the image of this lone, feral mother with blood dripping down her face like an animal as she kneels over the corpse of her husband while a bunch of nights watch men surround her in horror

3. Some more in the works in my brain: Benjen’s almost bastard daughter, Gregor’s two young and severely fucked up daughters, Dance era Tarth who’s homoeroticly loyal to Rhaenyra, a couple salt wives for Yara, and Lannister cousin who would’ve been a Maester if she was born a man (trans masc Lan incoming?)

[eyra]

9 people you want to get to know better

thanks for the tag @kaaaaaaarf!

last song: I’m obsessed with can’t stand me now by the libertines at the moment so probably that

favourite colour: 🌿🌱🌳🍃

last movie/tv show: I’m doing a game of thrones rewatch and I’ve just watched the one where Tyrion tells Sansa they have to get married and I’m screaming at the screen because he’s a babe and one of the best men she’ll ever know and I personally would’ve been thrilled at the prospect. anyway

sweet/savoury/spicy: savoury. love a crisp.

last thing i googled: “mini claw hammer” because I wanted to show my friend my cute hammer….

current obsession: honestly my OCs, I’m very deep into book planning and book scribbling and I just love my gals I really do

last book: the foxhole court. moving on swiftly

looking forward to: picking up my NEW JIGSAW PUZZLE tomorrow and also noah kahan soon and also some time off work coming up

think most people have done this but tagging @starstruck4moony @greyeyedmonster-18 @elder-millennial-trash @imsiriuslyreading @in-flvx @polaroidcats @persongrace @moongays @jaystr x

[bamsywrites]

Upcoming for this blog

And Comes Dawn:

Gonna move back and forth on the timeline a bit. Gonna make sure to be more clear in labeling when/where it's taking place

Galadriel/Sweet One friendship stuff is coming up. I promise. I just gotta get in the flow of writing her and I've hated all the drafts I've done so far.

Some teasers for what's to come: sauron invading sweet ones dreams, hate sex, sweet one get a backbone and becomes sort of a bad ass.

Other stuff

I might revisit my Aegon/Aemond/OC fic. Idk idk. Might also maybe revamp the tyrion fic but also idk.

Gonna post the start of the Adar x Reader series. That one's gonna be a lil more spicy. Actually probably a lot more spicy.

I have an IDEA for a lot of other Lotr/Rop fics but.....idk if I can and I don't wanna spread myself thin (like a super fucking angsty Boromir/Reader/Faramir one. Friends to lovers with Elrond and another one with Merry.)

[missnobodymadness]

WARNING: This OC profile contains sensitive themes that aren't adviced for younger audiences, please, skip this post if you are under 18.

Below is Tirannia's profile, my Game of Thrones OC.

───── ⋆⋅ Tirannia⋅⋆ ─────

"For most, the sea is a frightening place, full of monsters and it's mysteries, but not for me; the sea is where I find inspiration and peace, for I aspire to be just as free and fierce as its waves”

General

Name: Tirannia Meaning: The one born to rule Date of Birth: 28, March Age: 28 Zodiac: Aries Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Homosexual Species: Human Music theme: Captain of my soul by Rita Redshoes Title(s): The Barren Misandrist Mother of the Sea Serpent Knight of the Fourteen Seas Status: Alive

Appearance

Height: 5’11” / 1,81m Weight:  Before escaping: 163lbs / 74kg; A year after:  194lbs / 88kg; Skin color: White Eye color: Blue Hair color: Auburn Hair length: Long Scars/Birth marks/Tattoos: A few scars on her face and body Body modification: None Other features: None

Relationships

Biological Family

Mother Unknown Tully female (Biological) Rohesia (Adoptive) Father Aerys II Targaryen Siblings Rhaegar Targaryen (Half-brother) Viserys Targaryen (Half-brother) Daenerys Targaryen (Half-sister) Partner None Children None Other family Jon Snow (Nephew) Unknown Tullys

Other relationships

Yara Greyjoy (Crush) Brienne Of Tarth (Temporary coach) Tyrion Lannister (Advisor and confidant) Sansa Stark (Respect but not friends post-ending) Arya Stark (Occasional ally/teamup post-ending) Samwell Tarly (The first man she bowed to) Jorah Mormont (Distrust)

Life & Occupation

Place of Birth Westeros Current place Essos (Before escaping) Nomad (After escaping) Westeros (While guarding Daenerys) Dragonstone and nomad (Current) House Targaryen x Tully bastard Occupation Sex Slave (Former) Pirate (After escaping) Queen’s Guard Sailor (Current) Affiliation Targaryen

Personality

Tirannia is a strong and independent woman, with a passion for the sea and combat. She is very good at hiding her fear and tends to be confrontational, even when she knows she won’t probably come out as the winner.

Positive traits

Courageous Self-sufficient Adventurous Resilient Adaptable

Negative traits

Distrustful Deceitful Resentful Violent May be intolerant around men

Likes Sea, sharks, travelling, swords and combat.

Dislikes Most men, slavery (especially sexual), snow.

Story

After the forced intercourse between Aerys II and an unknown female Tully, a homeless woman approached the Tully, trying to help her.

Feeling miserable, the Tully couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and quickly tried to push the homeless woman away, not wanting the news to spread, however, the homeless woman wasn’t intimidated by her reaction and assured her secrecy, desperate, the Tully finally accepted the help.

Eventually she found out that all the tea she had drunk that day wasn’t efficient when she started feeling the first symptoms of her pregnancy.

Feeling lost and too ashamed to admit she was abused and carrying the mad king children, she decided to look for the woman that once helped her. Their relationship had flourished into a beautiful friendship after the Tully came back to show her gratitude, finding her a place to stay and helping her with groceries.

She had no idea how she’d go through pregnancy without being noticed, however, she asked for her friend’s help once again and both agreed to a plan: once the children was born, the Tully would bring the baby to her and she would run to Essos and raise the baby as hers, that was the only way for her children to survive in case the truth came out.

She still didn’t know how she would get her friend on a ship but she would work on that and find a way, after all, there was nothing that money or favours couldn’t get.

The Tully isolated herself once her belly started to show up, using big coats and doing her best to hide it from curious eyes.

Eventually the day came and Tirannia was finally born, healthy and crying to the winds of the Winter.

Their plan was successful and they reached Essos a few weeks later, it wasn’t a easy life for them but eventually Tirannia started slowly grow up, until a tragedy happened, her adoptive mother got sick.

She was getting old and eventually ended up passing away months later while Tirannia did her best to help her by stealing food.

Tirannia was heartbroken and tried to survive on her own even though she was barely 10, getting quite the reputation as a thief that unfortunately came with a price: the price of vengeance.

She was violently ambushed by market sellers and then sold to a pleasure house where she lived for the next 10 years of her life until she was actually able to escape after deceiving a very important and regular customer.

Her life after escaping wasn’t easy, she was well known because of her bad reputation and eventually had to move.

Barely did she know that the truth had come out in Westeros months ago and with all the tension around Daenerys she was now being hunted down with a prize for her head; luckily for her, no one knew what she looked like and she didn’t share much in common with her father, taking way more after her mother who barely anyone knew.

Eventually she started to hear about it all around Essos as the prize was quite high and people kept coming up with conspiracies of who she may be, it took her some time to understand people were referring to her adoptive mother but all her doubts were gone when she finally heard her name.

She now knew she was the person they were looking for.

Curious about her family, she started adventuring and studying, making friends with sailors and later on used what she was taught at the pleasure house to once again deceive men to her own benefit, this time getting her own ship in return.

Her goal was to visit Dragonstone to connect with her origins and try to find more about herself and she did it.

Tirannia finds a mysterious semi-submerged cave at the island while exploring and an even more curious thing happened: She found something there, something round that looked like an egg.

She believed it to be some sort of a valuable egg from an aquatic creature and took it with her on her adventure for knowledge.

As one of the most desired sex slaves from her pleasure house, she found herself as wanted all around Essos and unfortunately she made the mistake of returning after finding out about her half-sister, she wanted to find her but was caught by surprise instead.

They took her back to the pleasure house, trading their catch for valuable favours but her suffering had barely begun.

Furious about her escape, the owner of the pleasure house severely punished her, not only with genital mutilation but also cold blood sterilization; little did he know that the egg he had just deemed as useless hours ago would celebrate all that carnage by hatching to the sound of her cries and the heat of her growing hatred towards men that burned like fire inside her.

“A life for a life”, that’s what she had heard and read several times about hatching dragon eggs, but what did it meant to her? That was when she stopped to realize she would never be able to generate life, it was an unwilling sacrifice but a sacrifice nonetheless.

When she finally gained her conscience back, she realized that the man who had so much power over her was gone, carbonized, right beside her, she felt a cold shiver on her belly, looked down and saw a small and very disproportionate dragon looking back at her, confuse, she took some time to realize she was finally free. Later on she finally finds her half-sister and pledge her loyalty to her, turning into one of her personal guards.

[thepalaceofmelanie]

Martell Week- Day 3: Favorite moment.

Tag: @elvinaa @adriennegabriella @wingsoftheangels @morby @tashastrange89 @candycanes19

(A/N: The unnamed OC/ Reader!Stark is back again, cause we love to see it! Well, let’s hope that guy did get some medical attention. TW: Minor PTSD episode.)

Day 3: Favorite moment.

When Oberyn stabbed a mfer!

Song Inspired: “Brand New Numb” by: Motionless In White

I froze up hearing that damn song. “The rains of Castamere” always struck nightmares or daymares into me. Tears started to fall from my eyes as I remember that night. The night the Lannisters came for my Father, the night I became the Bloodwolf.

“Father…” My voice cracked.

Oberyn had enough already; his head turned the sound, looking from Olyver. Ellaria’s head popped up, knowing that Oberyn was going to probably kill someone. Oberyn exited the room. Ellaria and Olyvar not sure what to do at first; but they opted to check on me.

“Love, you need to come back to us. It’s okay, you’re safe.” Ellaria’s voice pleaded.

“My Lady, you need to stop Prince Oberyn.” Olyvar spoke up.

I, thankfully snapped out of it. I grabbed Ellaria’s hand and start to run after Oberyn, Olyaer following behind. I threw Ellaria at Oberyn and the two of us skid to a halt; one arm from each of us, trying to stop him.

“Come back to bed, Lover.” Ellaria spoke.

“My Sun, it’s okay. They’re not worth it!” I pleaded.

Oberyn brushed us away and the brothel workers ran for it; we all knew Oberyn’s reputation as the Red Viper after all. The two Lannister guardsmen watched Oberyn.

“Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister?”

He moved past us and the two Lannister guardsmen got up. Both Ellaria and I were really worried and Olyaer went to get help before this turned ugly. Oberyn made it to one of them.

“You think your gold and old lions, and your gold lions make you better than everyone else.”

The one man Oberyn was in front of only blinked.

“May I tell you a secret? You’re not the golden lion, you’re just a pink little man who’s far too slow on the draw.”

What the hell does that mean?! I look at Ellaria who was looking at the scene, my eyes go back to Oberyn and I felt my heart pounding hard. Ellaria’s hand pulled me over to her. Before the man could draw out his longsword, Oberyn stabbed him in the wrist; the man allotting a loud scream!

I couldn’t help but to laugh; in a way I took some pleasure and happiness; Ellaria looked shocked at me and how I was reacting. Well, they deserve it...after what the did to my family and Elia, I would love nothing more than to kill Tywin and Cersei. The other Lannister guardsman went to pull his sword out but hesitated to. I couldn’t help to laugh when the man screamed in agony.

“Long Sword is a bad option in close quarters. When your friend starts bleeding quite a lot, I’m afraid, so many veins in the wrist.-”

Oberyn’s face looked one of madness and I was enjoying it.

“-He’ll live if you get him help straight away… So decisions.”

If the other guard even moved; I’ll have him down on his back faster than light. Ellaria looked worried about me for a moment.

“Prince Oberyn, forgive the intrusion-” Tyrion Lannister started to say.

Oberyn pulled the dagger from the man’s wrist. The man screamed loudly and I laughed louder.

“Trouble…” He finished.

The two Lannister guardsmen ran off to get a healer.

“Apologies my loves.” Oberyn said.

Oberyn started to kiss Ellaria and I turned to see Tyrion standing there.

“Tyrion?” I asked.

He was shocked to see me. It had been a while since we last saw each other. I leaned down and hugged him, catching attention from Tyrion’s friend and my two lovers behind me.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m well, how is my Sister?” I asked.

“She’s safe for now, I promise.” Tyrion told me.

I nodded; I missed Sansa badly. Tyrion looked up at Oberyn and, I stand back over with the them. Tyrion’s expression changed to one of surprise.

“Them? Really?” Tyrion asked.

“It’s a long story, I’m married to Oberyn but I see Ellaria as my wife.” I admitted.

I feel them both take my hands in theirs. Ellaria is my equal, I’ve always saw as such and to hell with what others think. I felt her worry start to vanish, I’m glad. Poor woman looked like she was probably going to faint for a second. But it’s Ellaria Sand, one of the toughest women I know.

“Tell me, something.” I hear Tyrion asked.

“Yes?” I answered.

“That night, what happened to you?” Tyrion asked.

I froze again and tried to keep calm; I have to keep myself in check or a certain secret will be blown. I just shake my head. Oberyn pulled me into his arms.

“She hasn’t even told us yet.” Oberyn told the man.

Tyrion nodded.

“Understandable, I apologize. Prince Oberyn, we need to talk-.”

Tyrion looked at both me and Ellaria.

“Alone.”

“Fine.” I said.

I was just glad to get out of that scene; Ellaria and I go back into the room and I fell onto the bed. She joined me and I hold her. My body was shaking a bit from just the thought of that night. Ellaria kept her eyes on mine.

“Love, are you okay?” Her honey voice asked.

“I’ll be okay, with you two of course. I’m sorry Ellaria, I’m not ready to talk about that night. It was just...painful, okay, very painful!” I tried my best to keep calm.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, take your time. You know me and Oberyn are here for you.” Ellaria hushed me.

Her hand playing with my hair as Oberyn walked in. A look of hurt was on his face knowing that, I was in pain. A look knowing, that in the end, he might not be able to help. I give him a very weak but trying to be okay smile.

I just hope one day I can tell them.