#got to davos' chapters. i know what you are

[wraithwen]

pledge allegiance to my burning heart

[visenyaism]

top ten clinically depressed asoiafers

I don’t think anyone ever wrote out the Westerosi DSM but I’ll take a crack at it.

Honorable Mention- Mance Raider and Qhorin Halfhand. We don’t get enough to make a full conclusion because it’s not important to Jon’s story so this is just a vibe but I feel it strongly.

10. Rhaena the Lesbian- like one of two actually great fire and blood characters. Convalescing in Harrenhal for like a decade after her wife left her and her third husband killed all her girlfriends plus she was one dead kid and one dead mother down. Kind of epic. Should have survived long enough to be weird and bitter to Jaehaerys’ insane children.

9. Daemon Targaryen- hey speaking of killing yourself in Harrenhal. Him never being happy with what he had or knowing what he wanted beyond getting his big brother to be proud of him so he just had to constantly chase dopamine in the form of insane levels of violence grooming teenagers and getting his cop frat brother employees to like him for money. Chemical imbalance with a body count in the thousands for his last midlife crisis wife leaving teenager grooming riverlands murder suicide bender alone.

8. Rhaegar Targaryen- Hey speaking of making your clinical depression everyone else’s problem at Harrenhal leading to the death of thousands. Why do people keep letting them do this is the question. Could estrogen have saved her is the second realer question

7. Lysa Arryn. Free her.

6. Daeron the Drunken- what if you were HAUNTED by PROPHETIC DREAMS that were only BAD and spelled the death and doom of your ENTIRE FAMILY and you COULDNT ESCAPE THEM except through SUBSTANCES and you were also the HEIR and your DAD was so DISAPPOINTED IN YOU and you had to take your RUDE and disrespectful plucky BABY KING ARTHUR brother to the CIRCUS and he was TEN and BALD and picked up by the hedge knight you DREAMED OF because he is going to INSTIGATE TO THE ETERNAL MISERY OF YOUR FAMILY a little bit on accident because you are DRUNK. NO HOPE. also honorable mention to post-fratricide Maekar who just locks himself in summerhall for years and post-treason court hostage Daemon II Blackfyre. I hope he and Daeron got brunch.

5. Ned Stark- classic flavor original variant Father Depression. Things went wrong for him young that he will never explain to anyone ever and they form a veil that serves as a barrier between him and the world and everyone he loves. Poor Ned.

4. Stannis Baratheon. Never let himself enjoy anything ever. Melancholy from birth. Rude and extremely blunt with everyone. Smiles twice both at Davos. Anorexic. Bald. Who among us has not been there.

3. Alannys Harlaw Greyjoy- finding out that Theon and Asha have an alive mom who is a gothic horror attic wife who never recovered from the loss of her family to the point that she’s still asking when all her dead and missing sons are going to come home to her and then Theon comes home and does not visit her. Actually agonizing for me the reader

2. Jon Connington- I’m about to get real sincere with these last two because Dance was a really good book that hit at a pivotal time for me. Everything he is in the world to do is motivated by this deep and profound grief and repression that simultaneously makes him a worse person (hungry to commit war crimes) and his best self (dives into the river to save Tyrion contracting greyscale in the process, being as loving and supportive of a father to Young Griff as anyone really could possibly be in this series.) The fact that he is such a late-game addition but feels like a missing piece as a character because of the emotional weight he carries is really cool. I love all his chapters. Tried to grasp a star overreached and fell is so powerful.

1. Tyrion Lannister- I adore his dance with dragons chapters where after his big moment of patriarchal catharsis he is suicidal and misanthropic and an alcoholic and hurting himself and others. It is really compelling because sometimes people get worse. And yet this is interspersed with moments where he is confronted with real genuine danger or real genuine joy and he consistently chooses to be kind to others for no material gain. Like comforting Penny during the storm or tackling a Stone Man into the Rhoyne to to save Young Griff’s life. Arguably these moments do not outweigh all of the harm he is actively inflicting, but they do show that he is incorrect about his self concept that he’s a monster and is actually just a deeply hurt person who has been traumatized so profoundly and is struggling as a result of it.

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Prologue

Summary: When your former friend and current Triwizard champion Aemond Targaryen sends you a note asking you to meet him after years having last spoken to each other, you are left wondering what he could possibly want. So when, to your surprise, he asks you to be his date to the Yule Ball, you make a decision that will either mend your broken friendship with the Slytherin boy or irreparably shatter it forever.

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 2,1k

Warnings: none

Notes: Hello hello, dearest readers! How have you all been? 

I offer you the prologue to a new story I am now incredibly excited to write. The idea for this came from the lovely @peachysunrize, whom I admire very much and love her works (I’ve actually been saving Tangerine Dreams for when I have enough free time to binge read it, ‘cause I know once I start I won’t be able to stop), after Mr. Ewan Mitchell was spotted serving cunt looks at the British GQ’s Men of The Year last night. It was supposed to be a one-shot howeeeeever I ended up getting a little carried away and dicided to go for a slightly longer story (so I’m so so sorry, Aemond actually wearing the infamous outfit at the Yule Ball won’t show up for a few chapters, please forgive me).

Just to explain a few details of this story: Hogwarts is in Westeros, located in the Crownlands near the border between these lands, the Reach, the Riverlands and the Stormlands. Volaena Academy of Magic is situated in Volantis, houses female students from Volantis, Pentos and Lys (equivalent to Beauxbatons) and Green Grass Institute is situated in Braavos, houses male students, mainly Dothraki, from Braavos, Pentos and Tyrosh (equivalent to Durmstrang)

I never thought I’d write a Hogwarts!AU but here we are! Although the HP/WW universe was a very important part of my childhood, I haven’t consumed any content related to it in a very long time (except for random memes on ig I often trade with a friend) because that woman (you know which one) pisses me the fuck off. But since no one will be profiting from me writing this (at least I don’t think so), and I still quite like the universe even if my love for it got diminished somewhat, I decided to give it a try. I won’t lie, I had fun!

I’d just like to warn that the next update for this series will take a little while, as I have quite a lot of work to get done (the semester is ending and Uni is kicking me in the butt once more, what’s new) and I’d like to finish writing a new chapter of Written Between the Lines, the other Aemond series I have on going, first.

Although Reader is a Tully I didn’t write her with a specific appearance in mind, and the same goes for Kermit Tully, so it is up to you to imagine what she looks like. I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it! And thank you so much @peachysunrize for coming up with the idea in the first place! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

When you woke up on that rainy morning, you had expected it to be just another normal Tuesday, only barely over a week into the school year. The day had started out like any other: you had met with Oscar for breakfast at the Great Hall, being joined shortly after by Kermit and Davos, and avoided at all costs glancing in Cregan’s general direction. Then you had headed for your classes of the day, being paired with Doreah, a lyseni girl from Volaena, for your year-long Herbology project. 

While Doreah seemed nice, and you believed you would find a friend in her still, it was moments like this when you found yourself missing Helaena the most. You had promised to write to one another, of course, with you assuring you’d keep her updated in all the latest gossip around Hogwarts, yet it just wasn’t the same. You had become so used to seeing her at the farthest corner of the Ravenclaw table, waiting for you at supper, or sneaking out of the Hufflepuff common room together and into the kitchens to arrange snacks for your late night study sessions that you didn’t realize how much you’d miss this small things until she was actually gone, only just starting her career as a Magientomologist. Still, all you had to do was survive one more year until you could take your N.E.W.T.s and leave this place to search for a career of your own, and perhaps achieve your dream of sharing a flat with your best friend.

It was only after you left your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, having been squished between two quite large dothraki students from Green Grass, that you noticed something was different. A small piece of parchment was sticking out from inside your book, yet you didn’t remember putting it there; while you often used random papers as bookmarkers, it didn’t seem to be the case here, as the pages holding the parchment were ones you did not remember having ever read. As you turned the paper around you realized it was not just some paper, it was in fact a note, and you wondered how someone managed to place it inside your book, as you hadn’t left it unattended at all. But as you read the words, it would soon become clear to you.

Meet me at the library after dinner ~ A. T. 

The note carried a neat, flourished handwriting, written in expensive green ink. And yet, as your eyes skimmed over the words once more your heart started beating faster and faster, the flow of blood seemingly thundering on the inside of your eardrums. A. T., the person had signed. 

Aemond Targaryen.

What could he possibly want with you? Him, of all people? After all these years? Why did he want to speak to you now? It made sense then, how the note had appeared in your book without you realizing it; Aemond was quite good at Transfiguration, one of the top students even (but was there anything he wasn’t good at?), he excelled in it so for him to conjure a note inside your book was a piece of cake. But that didn’t explain what he wanted.

Sighing, you crumpled the paper in your hand, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pondered upon a decision you were most likely to regret.

There was only one way to find out.

You were quiet during supper, deep in thought as you poked at your food. Kermit and Davos both believed it had to do with the fact that Cregan and Alysanne were sitting right in front of you at the Gryffindor table, choosing then to sit on the bench across the table from you to try and block your view from the happy couple. But only Oscar knew the real reason for your silent demeanor.

Even though Kermit was your twin, you often felt closer to your younger brother, especially after you and Kermit got sorted to different houses on your first year, him being a Gryffindor through and through and you becoming the true embodiment of a Hufflepuff, and Oscar being selected for the same house as yours a year later. In truth, Oscar just understood you better and the other way around was also true, so you ended up becoming one another's confidants, telling each other everything and anything. So once you got back to the common room you had immediately spilled the beans about the mysterious note you had received.

He had begged you not to go. He just knew that whatever Aemond wanted couldn’t possibly be good. Not after everything. But you were curious, and although he would never admit to it, his curiosity on the back burner in face of his concern for you, so was he. So he agreed to your plan of simply listening to what Aemond had to say and leaving. 

Or that would have been the plan, had what Aemond asked not left you completely flabbergasted.

Arriving at the library, now almost completely void of students, save for one or two first year nerds, you noticed Aemond was already there, punctual as ever.

“You came.” he seemed surprised as he raised from his chair, the book he had been absentmindedly flipping through forgotten over the hardwood table.

You shrugged, not willing to let him see how affected you were by his presence.

“Let’s hear it then.” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

“What?” 

“You called me here for a reason, right? What do you want?”

“Can I not just wish to see an old friend?” it was his turn to shrug.

You scoffed, gritting your teeth as you glanced away from him. Old friend my ass, you thought. You weren’t friends. Not anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time.

“Right.” he must have noticed something in your expression, for he dropped the innocent act ��I need your help.”

What could he possibly need your help with?

“Be my date for the Yule Ball.”

What?

“What, why?” you were honestly dumbfounded by his suggestion, because that was what it was; it wasn’t a question, it was closer to a demand. And how dare he demand something from you?

“It is mandatory for the champions to dance at the Ball. And for that they need a partner.”

That’s right, Aemond had been selected as the champion to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament against Green Grass and Volaena. The professors had explained what that entailed, and how dangerous it could be, and for a fleeting moment, your heart twinged in worry over him, before it was snuffed out and replaced by the usual cold indifference you felt towards him. Furthermore, they had let all students know that a special ball would be held at Christmas, and that all three champions were required not only to attend but to dance as well.

“I know that.” you huffed, feeling a little offended “I mean why me?”

His stare turned quizzical, as if he couldn’t quite possibly understand what you were implying.

“Why not take your girlfriend?” you asked, confused “I mean, she may have graduated already, but professor Mellos said we could bring dates from outside the school.”

He glanced away from you, his expression turning dark for a split second, before returning his gaze to you.

“Alys and I broke up over summer.” he said with a nonchalance you suspected to be fake.

You wanted to ask, you were desperate to know why, but you had to remind yourself it was none of your business. His life was none of your business and it was better that way.

“Why not some other girl then? They seem to line up for your attention nowadays. Floris has always had a thing for you.”

Aemond was already considered a pretty boy even for normal standards, always having one admirer or another. It lessened a bit after he started dating Alys, a sixth year student, in his fourth year in school, but you knew for a fact people still pinned after him in silence. But after he was named Hogwarts’ triwizard champion, a lot of girls and even some guys flocked around him, vying for his undivided attention. You knew most of them would die for a chance to be his date at the Ball, to be his even if only for one night.

“It would give them the false hope that something more could happen when it won’t.” he tipped his chin, staring at you from under his lashes, and something in the way he was looking at you was deeply unsettling “At least we know where we stand with one another.”

Ouch.

“Why would I ever agree to go with you?”

“Well you certainly aren’t going with Stark, that’s for sure.” the corner of his lip twitch in the tiniest of smirks.

A pang of shame assaulted your heart, heat spreading in your chest and settling in your cheeks.

“How do you know about that?” your voice faltered, small and almost afraid. 

His face fell, then, as if he didn’t expect this reaction from you.

“Everyone knows about it.” 

Humiliation burned in your chest, the sting of tears steadily brimming in your eyes forcing you to glance away from him to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Great, now the whole school (and perhaps even the other two guest schools) knew how your boyfriend of four, almost five years had dumped you and practically immediately after started dating your cooler, prettier, hotter cousin. He couldn’t even be bothered to show his face, he had broken up with you through a letter, a majestic white owl bringing the news one summer morning.           

“No.” you sniffled, daring yourself not to cry, and turning away from him, ready to leave and forget this conversation ever happened.

“Wait!” he grabbed your arm, halting your movements. His face was soft when you glanced back at him, something akin to guilt clouding his own features “Please. Just- please.”

That was new. For as long as you had known him, you knew one thing was certain: Aemond Targaryen didn’t beg. For him to stoop this low, at least for his standards, must mean he was indeed desperate.

“What’s in it for me?” you asked in turn.

He pondered for a moment, a surprised look on his face, as if he didn’t expect to get this far into the conversation.

“You’ll get to make Stark jealous?” he offered, and you chuckled mirthlessly in response.

“I don’t want to make him jealous.” and you couldn’t even if you tried, not in comparison to Alysanne of all people “I just want to move on from him.”

“Then you’ll get to show him just that. That you have moved on from him and are already seeing new people.”

His reasoning made sense and you were intrigued, sure, especially considering you weren’t totally over Cregan just yet. But it definitely wasn’t worth the hassle.

“And I’ll help you study for your History of Magic N.E.W.T!” he was quick to add.

Now that was a really tempting offer. History of Magic was one of the subjects you struggled with the most, having a really hard time memorizing all the dates and events, ever since your very first year. And you knew he was well versed in history; he studied the subject even when not required, just for fun. To have someone like him help you study would definitely help you not fail the test.

“Okay.” you sighed out between, biting your tongue “I’ll be your date to the Yule Ball.”

His face lit up then, almost bouncing in his heels from excitement, before feigning indifference.

“Good.” he nodded to himself “We’ll have to spend more time together until then.”

“I didn’t agree to that!” you squealed, the thought of spending any more time than necessary with him making you uneasy.

“We need to be convincing. Otherwise Stark will see right through it.”

He was right. Of course he was right.

“Fine then. When do we start?”

He smiled brightly then, and for a moment you saw that young boy he once was, the one who held your hand on the first train ride to school all those years ago.

“I’ll find you for breakfast tomorrow then and we can go to Potions together. After lunch we can start revising History. How does that sound?”

It could be worse.

“Alright by me, I guess.” 

Aemond grinned cheekily, and you knew then that you were screwed. 

“It’s a date then.” he sauntered away, but not before throwing you a quick wink to match his smirk.

Oscar was going to kill you.

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 9) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ❤️‍🔥| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ❤️‍🔥

ship: davos blackwood x fem!oc

warnings: 18+ explicit smut

summary: they fuck

word count: 5333

a/n: this chapter is long asf and I was almost going to publish it as a two parter and leave you all with blue balls once again but I decided to just wait it out until I finished it! So sorry about the extra long wait. Next chapter is the END (I hope) not counting the epilogue okay bye

When Cersha returned to her chamber, she was not surprised to see Davos perched on the bay windowsill, his fingers laced around his bent knee while his injured leg stretched out beside him. She had expected him to be blistering mad at her abrupt dismissal earlier that afternoon, but he was a vision of weary resignation as his forehead rested on the glass. The watery light filtered through the fresh linen shirt he had dressed in, showing the curve of his torso and the sinewy length of his arms. He lifted his head and smiled as the door creaked shut, she saw that he was rid of the patchy beard that had grown in the twelve days since the battle. Had it really been such a short time?

“My, I’ve never seen you so clean.” She teased.

“All in service of you, my lady.” He got shakily to his feet and bowed mockingly.

“Davos, please.” She sighed, the elation of her epiphany at the sept already waning.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side and offered a slanted smirk. “I’m your sworn protector, aren’t I? Chastely sworn… we both know how that turned out, now don’t we?”

She reddened at the memory of his lips stamping wet marks across her skin. She said nothing, only rolling her eyes. He sat back heavily on the sill and clucked his tongue.

“Were you sitting on that lie for long?”

“Only since…” She drifted off, feeling a wave of residual panic at the memory of the night before. Davos’ face softened and she shied away from the earnestness of it. “Look, I’m sorry. I am. I just, I wasn’t sure how Oscar would take it if he knew who you were or that a Blackwood had killed a Night’s Watchman on his land, I thought he might…”

“Execute me on the spot?”

“No! No, he’d never kill unless he had to. I was afraid he may send you back to your family to be punished for desertion, or that he might have just thrown you in the dungeon or something for starting this whole mess.”

“’Starting this whole mess,’ is that what you think? Is that why you still don’t trust me after all we’ve been through?”

“No! You were defending your family’s honour, I cannot fault you that, but the battle began with the swing of your sword. That is the truth. I feared Oscar’s retribution, but his ire is for the lord regent who instructed the default on the assize.”

“Always trying to protect me, aren’t you? What ire could that boy have? He looks as if-”

“As much ire as I’ll have if you speak ill of him.” He just scoffed and shook his head. “Asides, it matters not. Oscar recognised you.”

“I could have told you that,” He said. “If you’d only told me of your plans.”

“I see that now.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I surmised you would not take kindly to concealing your identity from the regent high lord. I did not want to fight you.”

“Why?” His expression darkened as he pushed to his feet and limped a step closer to her. “Are you afraid of me?” A step closer. “Think I might kill you?”

Another step closed the gap between them, his hand coming to rest feather-light on her neck. Her eyelids drooped as the tickles of his callouses fizzed through her brain.

“We’ve come this far crow boy.” She looked up through her lashes, seeing him obscured behind soft focus and beige streaks. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.” She pressed forward until there was a slight pressure on her throat. “I’ve seen the fire in you, but I’m not scared. It burns for me, does it not?”

“Aye.” He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his pupils blew out into glossy black discs in the confines of his dark eyes. “All for you, my lady.”

That was enough to make her melt into his touch, savouring the warm, full feeling that radiated from his rough hand as it formed the perfect collar around her swan-curved neck. That feeling, not of possession but of belonging, as people sometimes belong to each other. Her hands found his neck in some attempt to mirror the experience back to him, thumbs stroking the smooth skin from his ears to his collarbones as his eyes drifted closed. His breaths grew ragged as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.

“I think…” His nose brushed hers, lips so close that every breath was a heady exchange of essence, hearts racing in syncopated time. “...I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

“Is that so surprising?” Her fingers stroking his jaw pulsed a rhythm in his veins.

“I don’t kiss.” He growled weakly, stomach fluttering like a virgin maid.

“Why?” Her breath on his lips was the ghost of a kiss.

“Brings all sorts of… feelings.” Her hands were in his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp and savouring the rabbity softness of his freshly washed locks until blissful tremors weakened his knees.

“Is that such a bad thing?” He let go of a whimper as she rubbed her nose against his.

“If I kiss you, I’ll never stand to be parted from you. I’ll have to marry you.”

She pulled back, all the silvery feeling rushing through the channel of their meeting eyes.

“Kiss me.”

In that soft afternoon light, safe at last behind the stony battlements with the dull roar of the rushing moat shielding them from silence, in a room lovingly furnished with the colours of their liege, with the perfumed steam from the bath behind the fish mural divider wreathing around them, they shook off their houses like two bucks losing their antlers in spring. It was as if there had been a levee between them, weeping water from long spiderweb cracks, and now the stones came bursting out and there it was. The torrent of feeling, the lips parting, the passion, the crush, the smelting together of two beings in this primeval ritual.

At last they broke apart, her gasping for air and him kissing down her neck, whining against her perfect skin.

“Davos.” She panted. He nipped her. She took a handful of black hair and tugged it firmly. “Davos!”

“Mm…” He tilted his head back and she saw his eyes clouded by lust.

“Behave.” She pecked his swollen lips. “I must bathe first. I stink.”

A mischievous grin spread across his face and he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell-” Sniff. “-fantastic.”

As she lifted her arm to push him away he stuck his face right into the pit and drew in a long breath.

“Like a woman.” He sighed dreamily and began peppering kisses across her chest.

“Get away!” She laughed, lifting her arms and throwing back her head to give him more access to the skin exposed by her dress. “You foul beast.”

He just chuckled and kissed all over her collarbones, bending double as she backed away until they bumped into the tub. He whined when he realised where they had ended up.

“Sweetling.” He pouted, trying to coax her back toward the bed.

“Davos, anyone would think you’re starving.” She rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile. “Come on. Won’t you wash my hair for me?”

“You know slavery is outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Just get in the bath.” She pursed her lips derisively, letting her hands wander up under his shirt to explore the dips and curves of his back. “Just… soak with me for a while. Please?”

He scoffed and she could see him fighting against a blissful smile as her nails raked up his spine.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” She murmured. “Was that so hard?”

He smiled in that exasperated way, peeled off his shirt and dropped his breeches and underclothes in a swift, practical motion. For an instant she was stunned by the beauty of him; the subtle dips and rises of muscle on his thin limbs and torso, the grazes, bruises and old faded scars that each served as a reminder of passionate fury roused when something he loved was at risk, and the supple pink skin of his dick that hung half-hard by his thigh.

“What?” He grinned. “Like what you see?”

“Your wound.” She pointed to the bandage on his thigh, trying to save face.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me in the bath or not?”

She bit her lip.

“You can dress it again later.” He had pulled it off and clambered awkwardly into the milky water before she had the chance to protest, gripping both sides of the tub as he gingerly lowered himself down. “Gods, that’s lovely.”

“You’re always putting yourself in harm’s way for me.”

“You love it.” She did love it. “Though I hardly think a bath can be considered ‘harm’s way.’ Besides, this is far nicer than the bath they drew for me. Just hot water, a rag and a bar of soap. No…” He picked out a floating rose petal and inspected it before letting it float away like a grumpkin’s sailboat. “...luxury.”

She noticed then that she had indeed been showered in what little frills Riverrun could afford with an encroaching war. Roses from the gardens floating on water white from goat’s milk; she suspected from the lactonic, pastoral scent that it was not the cow’s milk favoured by most highborn ladies for bathing. The water was silky through her fingers, from salt and honey she assumed, and lavender oil turned the steam heavy and narcotic.

“The boy favours you still.” Davos remarked as he reached for a brown-skinned pear from the tray on the side table, cut in half and loaded high with soft cheese and a crust of walnuts, and popped the whole thing in his mouth, wiping the juice with the back of his hand.

“Enough about Oscar.” She flicked a scoop of water at him, making him sputter. “And don’t eat all those, I’m starving. Did they not feed you earlier?”

“They did, but I’m never satisfied, my lady.” He smiled sweetly. “Minnows and cress on toast, though the ones you catch are far sweeter.”

“Thank you.” She preened, though his flattery was obvious, and took a pear for herself, a little moan escaping her at the flavour. “I must confess, I have missed real food. I hope they give us lamb tonight, or veal. Something that’s fed on grass and hasn’t had to fight for every morsel-”

“Are you getting in or not?”

She huffed at his blunt tone and expectant face, and finished her pear in two irritated bites. The amusement on his face was almost enough to make her storm off, but stronger than the annoyance that was only heightened by the bubbling fear of removing her clothes in front of him was her desire to be close to him. She turned her back to him and unlaced her dusty riding gown, letting it fall in a heap at her feet. In just her smallclothes, she hesitated. His eyes burned her from behind as the air burned her from inside. She heard the water slosh and Davos’s hand found hers, dripping water on her gown.

“Hey.” He said softly, squeezing her hand gently until she turned and met his eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna laugh at you. Whatever you’re afraid of-” He tapped his temple. “It’s in here. I think you’re beautiful.”

She closed her eyes, letting the words settle inside her, then lifted his hand to the lacing on her top. In a few deft movements he had pulled it loose, letting her free herself from it along with the bottoms. Instinct told her to cover herself, but she balled her fists and held them at her sides, letting his gaze roam across her form. She had always thought of herself as ungainly, all sharp angles and no curves, but under his eyes she felt her jutting hip and shoulder bones held the beauty of an ancient gnarled willow, and her long sinewy arms still covered in dirt were like the wings of a falcon rising from a bath of dust. She was a dryad and she glowed.

“You are…” He kissed her hand. “…so…” Again. “...fucking…” Once more. “...gorgeous. Gods, I don’t know what you’ve done to me, woman. You’re all I ever think about.”

The haze of steam caught the candlelight and danced in wisps around him. His hair turned black as pitch in the damp, the blood rose to his cheeks, and beneath that deep grey, his eyes were so green. Green like moss and agate and beetle wings. He was made of frown lines and scars, taut muscle, crooked teeth and passion like fire.

“Davos.” Her hand found his face. “I meant to say before, but… I suppose I was frightened. But, you’re- you’re… a vision. I am so glad to have met you.”

She kissed him, and for a moment it was all lips and fig sweetness until he smiled against her.

“Get in the bath.”

“Fine.”

She tried to glower as she clambered in beside him, but the warm embrace of the water was far too enticing. The surface sloshed as he spread his knees, making room for her to sit between his legs, and the level rose so high it nearly ran over the edge when they were both settled.

“Was that so hard?” He mumbled as he kissed her shoulder.

“Shut up.”

They sat that way for a while, cloistered in hot silky water. She ate her pears and washed the dirt from her skin, and he hummed a ballad so sweet that she could have cried. When she was done he freed her filthy hair from the braid, lathered it with soap and washed it with deft fingers massaging her scalp. She could not help the little groans of satisfaction that escaped her at the gentle tickling touch. She could feel him pressing into her back as he fisted her wet hair tightly and let his lips rest flush against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending tingles to her toes.

“I’m warning you, my lady, if you keep making those filthy noises I might take right here in the bath.”

“Maybe you ought to.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Would you like that?” His lips parted to kiss her ear and she felt her eyes slip out of focus at the sensitivity there.

“Please.”

His free hand found her nipple, already a hard, pink marble beneath the hot water, and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips lifted and her hand fell between her spreading legs in an involuntary response.

“Please, please,” Came his rough whisper. “Please what, my lady?”

“Please…” She gasped. “Please touch me.”

“Where? Where can I touch to please you, my sweet-” Kiss. “-virtuous-” Kiss. “-Bracken-”

A slosh of water hit the ground as she whipped around and took hold of his cock, feeling it hard, yet supple under her grasp like a lance wrapped in silk. He whimpered as she pulled her hand in slow, deliberate motions around the head.

“If you don’t stop teasing me I’ll rip it off, I swear.”

“There she is.” He relinquished his grip on her hair as he rocked his hips, letting his length slide through her hand as he gripped her thighs. “There’s the fire.”

He pulled her legs apart without another thought and ran his fingers along her slit. She was slick where the water had not washed it away, and he could feel the folds of her were swollen blooms beneath the wiry swathe of hair. She jolted when he found that little button at the top, a high keening coming from her throat at that sweet agony.

“It’s okay now, my love.” He assured her.

“It’s…” She whined. “It’s so…”

“It’s so good, sweetling, I know. I know.”

He spread her open with one hand, pulling back the hood of skin that covered that nub and rubbed his fingers in steady circles, drawing moans from her like music from a harp. Her hips pushed up against him and she lost hold of his cock, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was that beautiful rhythm of her reaching for him, reaching for that incomprehensible height. His fingers slowed, he needed her lucid for a moment.

“Cersha.” He spoke against her ear. “Are you listening darling?”

“Mm.” She nodded, desperately pushing up against the minute rotations of his digits.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

She nodded again.

“On the inside?”

“No.” She shook her head, her voice strained. “Never inside.”

A puff of breath escaped him.

“Do you…” She panted. “Like that about me?”

“Does it make me… perverse if I do?” He growled. “If I want to claim you before anyone, before even you?”

“I want it to be you.” She admitted freely.

“Then it will be me.” He kissed her cheek reassuringly, his fingers circling her bud a faster now.

He worked on her for a while, bringing her back to the peak, and as pleasure rolled through her like white-capped waves, a finger plunged inside her. It slid in so easily that she scarcely registered the change until she grew aware of a strange tightening, and a thickness that she clenched against. She gasped, earning a chuckle from her lover.

“Is that good?”

She nodded, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to slowly, incrementally pump it in and out. Just as she was growing used to the rhythm, he curled his finger inwards and seemed to hit some strange point that sent a jolt of pleasure through her. She shrieked and covered her face.

“That’s good, isn’t it, sweetling?”

He nuzzled the side of her face as his fingers rapidly fluttered against her sweet spot, his palm bumping her bud, radiating syrupy, heady sensation. She gave a little yelp and buried her face in his neck, making him grin.

“More…” She managed to say. “...please.”

“As you wish.”

She felt empty for a moment as he drew back his finger, but soon enough she was gasping against the overflowing fullness of two thick, calloused digits drawing over that sponge of mystifying bliss.

“Gods, you’re tight.” He muttered darkly, thrusting them as deeply as he could.

“Davos, I think- I think I’m...”

“Let go, my love.” He whispered, his hand moving at an impossible pace. “Cum for me.”

It was those rough-spun words that were her undoing. She seized and gripped the bathtub, rolling over the wave of boiling pleasure. It was a brief thing, a blink of bliss wherein her thoughts were entirely drowned out, clenching rhythmically around his digits until she relaxed, flopping back against his silken torso. His arms found their way around her stomach and he squeezed her tight against him.

“You did so well, sweetling.” He rocked her gently for a while, until she felt strong enough to speak.

“That thing you did for me at the inn,” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “That thing you did with your mouth...”

“I ate out your cunny, sweetling, that’s what I did.” His eyes stirred with lust and mischief. “You want more?”

“No- yes, but no. I want to do it for you. I want to- to…”

“You want to suck my cock?” He put a hand to her cheek, his expression a mix of want and concern. “You don’t have to, Cersha. It’s gruelling work, I should know.”

“What do you mean?”

His cheeks tinted and a strange flash of agony passed over his face before he shook it away.

“Well, I’m no stranger to buggery, but I always preferred the fairer sex. Let’s leave it at that.” She felt a rush of curiosity at his words, and he must have noticed as he sighed moodily. “One day, I’ll tell you about the boy. I promise.” She swallowed her questions and nodded. “Shall we move to the bed?”

She got up eagerly, splattering more water onto the floor as she went, but was slightly alarmed to find her legs were already trembling. She offered Davos her hands, and he eyed them speculatively for a moment. She thought he might try to drag himself up on his own, but he took her help and soon they stood, holding one another as the water rolled off them in rivers. He giggled impishly, kissing her all over and before either of them knew it they were flopping down on the bed, still sopping wet like two otters in heat.

“We’re getting the sheets wet.” She protested weakly.

“We’ll sleep in my chambers.” He muttered, shuffling around until his injured leg had room to stretch out. “The bed is just as soft, if not so lovingly furnished.”

“Are you comfortable?” She fussed, hating the sight of his wound without a bandage. The messy sutures she had administered had been replaced by neat little stitches since they had arrived at Riverrun; the work of a Maester, Cersha supposed.

He put his hand to her cheek, a half-mocking look of amusement on his face.

“I am not made of glass. Now, are you sure you want to do this?” She nodded eagerly, and he guided her face gently downward. “Alright, I’ll show you how.”

She settled herself by his waist and watched, almost in awe, as he spit in his hand and gently tugged his length. The fold of skin pulled back and slipped easily up and down the moist, pink tip. He groaned lightly as he worked on himself, and in a few smooth strokes he had grown stiff and engorged. Cersha felt her mouth water, and was surprised to find that she felt no shame. She knew he would be big- in the pitch dark of that night in the inn, she had felt his impossible length slide through her hand- but nothing could have prepared her to actually see a man’s naked form, and it excited her more than she cared to admit.

“Put your mouth around the tip.” He instructed, using his free hand to gather her hair and hold it at the base of her neck. “Use your lips to block your teeth, that’s it, darling.”

She had to stretch her mouth wide to take him in, but it was worth it for the salty sweetness that spread across her tongue.

“Good girl.” He growled. “Good girl. Now feel around with your tongue. Do you feel that?That ridge, just there, right- right there.”

On the tip of her tongue rested a firm seam of skin, just at the base of the head. She flickered her tongue across it in a rapid flurry, and he whimpered. His hips lifting and an inch more of his length entered her mouth triggering a gulp of surprise.

“Oh, yes. Yes, sweetling that’s it, that’s it, just focus on the head.” With his hand in her hair he tenderly guided her head up and down, up and down, never forcing himself any deeper than she could comfortably take. “Bob your head like that, just take it in and out. You don’t-” He interrupted himself with a weak grimace. “-you don’t have to take it deep. It’s lovely if you do, but… but just do what you can, darling. Keep working with your tongue, you’re doing beautifully my love.”

He relinquished his grip on her hair, trusting her to keep up the rhythm, and wrapped his hand around his shaft, jerking himself into her mouth, while his other hand found his plump stones, rolling them in his palm. Cersha gripped his thighs, growing light-headed as she moaned and slurped around the size of him. It seemed he had given up on words, and instead fell into a frenzy of… moans? No, growls. He was like an animal, half-way between deep rumbles and high keening whines, his hips rolling and thrusting upward, seeming to forget his earlier gentleness. She took him deeper, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. Before she knew it, his hands were on her forehead and he was pushing her off of him.

“Did- did I bite you?” She gasped.

“No! Darling, no, I made you gag.” He struggled to sit up and held her face in his hands, stroking her hair, his face a mask of concern. “I cannot believe I did that, I’m so sorry, Cersha.”

“You didn’t mean to!” She eagerly reached for him again, but he caught her hand and kissed them all over.

“Still.” He implored. “I’m sorry. Besides, we had to stop. I would have finished in your mouth, I’m sure you wouldn’t like that.”

She considered for a moment.

“I… I suppose not.”

His face softened sympathetically.

“I want you to… to, um, to cum, though. It’s only fair.”

He chuckled at her choice of words and kissed her forehead.

“I can use my hand, if only you kiss me while I do it.” He gauged her disappointment with an impish smirk. “Or… I could fuck you, I suppose. If you want me to, that is.”

“Oh, please!”

He tossed his head back and laughed, pulling her into his embrace.

“Oh, my girl…” He pushed her wet hair away from her eyes. “I would work for hours like a draft horse if it would please you.”

He struggled to heave himself up, but she pushed him back by the shoulders. He made a little oof sound and his puggish nose crinkled in annoyance.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I’d rather it this way.”

A grin dimpled his cheeks and his eyes glittered.

“Oh, really?” She just smiled knowingly and set about piling up pillows behind him to prop him up. He sighed dreamily. “I feel like a princess.”

“Prince of Crows,” She murmured, straddling him. “On a weirwood throne… with…” Her fingertips found his forehead. “…a red eye.”

He noticed her eyes had crossed out of focus, half closed. He took her by the arms and gave her a gentle shake that seemed to rouse her.

“You’re a witch, Bracken.” He laughed, though his heart thundered in his chest.

“I get it from my mother.” She shook her head, giggling nervously. “Anyway…”

Her hand reached between her legs to find his cock, stroking it gently. He laughed airily, happy to forget her strange words. The calloused pads of his fingers found their way to slide along her slit, and he scoffed.

“Gods, you get wet from nothing.” He seemed almost annoyed as he sunk two digits into her with no resistance. “Soaking wet…”

He withdrew and held up his fingers to show the glistening slickness that coated them, then slid them into his mouth. She gasped as he wantonly swirled his tongue around them, and pulled them out with a pop.

“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.” He told her. “The only one I ever wish to taste again. I suppose mine could not have been such a joy to sample.”

“It was beautiful.” She kissed him, catching the ghost of herself on his lips. “You are beautiful.”

“Ah, I’m a busted old thing.” He flushed, lining himself up with her entrance. “But, thank you all the same, my lady.”

She felt the very tip of him sliding into her, and she hesitated.

“Davos, I… I do not wish to have a child.”

He palmed her cheek, as he loved to do.

“Then no child you shall have. I will spill myself upon your stomach every night until we are married, and every night thereafter until you feel the time is right.”

“And if I do not wish to marry?”

“Then unmarried we shall be.”

“And if I never want a child?” She thought of her mother then, the screams, the smell of blood like iron…

A pained expression crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it was there.

“Then no child you shall have.”

“Do you promise?”

“On mine honour.” She searched his eyes for a sign of dishonesty, but found none, so she nodded.

She sunk down onto him, feeling her inner muscles clench and tent out as they adjusted to the thickness prising them apart. It hurt, it could not be avoided, his girth was simply too great. At the alert of her pained whimpers, he gripped her hips, holding her up until he was sure she had taken enough time to grow used to the feeling. He held her steady as she incrementally shimmied down, down, down until he bottomed out with an inch or two to spare. She cried out as she felt him pressing his bruising tip into her roof, but by then it had become a good pain, a cleansing pain.

“My girl.” He murmured. “My sweet girl.”

She lifted up from her knees, focusing on that exquisite feeling of his veins and ridges sliding against her walls, then lowered back down. Up and down, up and down, she repeated the action until she noticed he was holding his breath.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes,” He managed to utter, panting. “Gods, you’re just so tight. I can’t… I can’t see myself lasting long at this rate.”

She giggled as he whined, his hands finding her buttocks and bouncing her up and down on his rigid length, deeper and harder until she collapsed against him, grasping him like a tree in a windstorm. She grunted as he adjusted her on his lap and hit that sweet place inside her.

“Oh, fuck!” She hissed.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” His hot breath passed across her ear. “That’s the spot.”

“Oh, gods, Davos…”

He pumped upwards as he bounced her, and she felt his tip rubbing across her sweet spot before it punched against her roof, every single time. It was brutal, yet tender, and she could feel his restraint. She knew then that this man could fuck like an animal if she set him loose.

“You’re my girl.” He insisted. “Say you’re my fucking girl.”

“I’m y-your…” She spluttered. “I’m…”

Suddenly it stopped. He held her up, nothing but the tip left in her. She wriggled in his grasp, desperate for that overwhelming in-out-in-out-in-out.

“Say it, sweetling.” He cooed.

“I-I’m your girl.”

“Fuckin’ aye, you are.”

He plunged her back down, filling her in one thrust. Wave after wave of pleasure built up inside her, pump after pump, after pump until she had to bite into his shoulder to contain the half shrieking moans that had taken over her speech. It was this that broke his restraint, and as his thrusts grew sloppy, he slammed into her, fingers digging into her bony frame so harshly that they would have drawn blood were his nails longer.

“I’m c-”

The climax struck her dumb and she let out a guttural snarl as it seized all sense and reason from her. She clenched on his cock, still incessantly moving inside her, again, again, again, her eyes rolling, white fishes shimmering across her vision, until finally-

“Fuck!”

He pulled out, furiously rubbing his cock as he reached his own peak, his body stiffening and writhing as he spilled his hot seed onto her stomach. When he was done, he paused for a moment, eyes glazed and staring at nothing, until he noticed her and a flash of feeling passed across them. He did not hesitate to pull her to him, the strength of his arms evident as he crushed her against his torso, caring nothing for the stickiness there. It was then that she realised she was weeping. For what, she did not know. Perhaps, just the beauty of it all.

“Shh, shh.” His voice was flute soft again. “My beautiful girl.”

When she had regained some composure, she cleared her throat, forehead resting against his.

“I fear we need another bath.”

Thanks to my lovelies @aemondslove @disillusioned-phantasma @anaviieiraaa @deepestlovert @flordiakilos @kitty2984 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22 @spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @nixtape-foryou @giggles-andkicks @benijbol @darlingcharling-blog @writervaul-t @kayrakhan @unicorntrooper @frogoerson @aphroditeanadyomene @councilofcastamere @ellxpsismm @teapomp @fuckalrighty for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- 18+ words and themes overall, cussing, mention of death, mention of sandors death, happy angst, reuniting lovers. Lmk if i forgot anything.

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

CHAPTER 24

“Fuck me its cold.” Gendryl huffs as he pulls the blanket closer to his body. 

“Is that all youre going to do this fucking trip?” hound asks, pushing his shoulder almost causing the blacksmith to trip up. 

“Do what?” Gendryl asks, turning a bit to look up at the larger man. 

“Winge. You've been doing it this entire time. It's worse than the thoros singing. Talking about a woman who strapped you down, stripped you naked, some fucking red witch-” 

“She was gonna kill me, could-would have If it was for davos who-”

“But she didn't, hmm. Did she? So what are you whining about?” Sandor cuts him off, tired of his bullshit. 

“I'm not Whining.” Gendryl barks back. 

Sandor chuckles. “Your lips are moving and you're complaining about something…this cunt has been killed six times you don't hear him bitching about it huh?” Sandor says pushing Gendryl to the side and continuing off infront of him. 

“Sandor.” Jon says, turning to him, calling him up. Beric follows, wanting to hear the plan Jon might have. 

“I wanted to congratulate you on your fatherhood.” he says. 

“What?” Sandor asks, confused for a second. 

“Her grace, y/n clegane. She bore you a son. They call him the little prince. I was there. He's healthy. Takes after you.'' John nods. 

“Oh. hmm. I'm planning to deter all other nonsense after this shit to sail to Volantis finally.'' Sandor huffs out fixing the pack around his shoulders. 

John stops walking to look at him. 

“Volantis? There was a plague that swept over it, heathers plague, from the heather plant being tainted. Her grace isn't in volantis, she's in winterfell with sansa. Her parents sent her there because the plague does not touch the cold. She thinks you're dead though.” John explains. 

Sandors breath hitches for a moment before glancing at beric who nods with a smile knowing that the ‘lord of light’ has willed him to be here. 

“Dont smile at me like that you fucking necromancer.” sandor says. 

“You have a son clegane, the little prince, be thankful. When this is all over you can head there to reunite.” beric continues. 

“Why does she think I'm dead?” Sandor asks as they continue the walk. 

“Brienne of Tarth is also within the walls of winterfell when y/n arrived brienne told her, she pushed you and you fell.” John says. 

“The big woman?” Tormound asks, his eyes wide with wonder. 

“Y-yes.. John answers uncomfortably.

“I will make sure you join us when we arrive back there. You've got a son to meet.” Jon says. 

“You've got to stay alive now that is eh? Don't want your pretty missus to keep thinking you're dead now then." Tormund says, putting his hand on sandors shoulder. As fast as it was placed sandor smacks it off him. 

“Fuck off.” he huffs. 

“You're the dog, they told you were mean. Were you born that way or were you hardened?” Tormund asks him, smiling a bit. 

Sandor slowly turns to the other man scowling at him as if he can't understand a word he's saying. 

“What is wrong with you? Genuinely.” Sandor asks, huffing out a puff of air that can be seen because of the frigid temperature. 

“Nothing. You see I don't think you’re actually mean. I’ve seen the princess and the fact that she fell for a brute look of you well..ptff. Youve got sad eyes i think she takes care of you, takes care of you well, enough to put a babe inside her, i think that under all your anger and hate your a soft man, you either love her completely….of she just fucks you so good you cant leav-” tormund is cut short with a punch to face before he lands in the snow.

“I told you to shut the fuck up and i wont do it again. Talk about her like that once more and i’ll snap your ginger fucking neck!” Sandor barks out. 

“OI! Enough of that?! And keep moving!” Jon hollars out as the rest of the group is a bit of a ways ahead. 

—-----

You watch as the supply carts are unloaded, your men and the others pulling out and setting down crate after crate. The whine of a horse before two women in red cloaks ride into the gates. 

“Who's that?” you ask joss as he stands next to you. He shakes his head. They two are helped off their horses before looking around briefly and taking off their hoods. 

“Your grace. The red woman, Lady melisandre and her daughter Yin have arrived.” you turn to face lord baelish. 

“And who are they?” Sansa asks as she walks up behind you. 

“Sorcerers my lady, they are here to help decide the plan against the dead.” baelish answers. Sansa looks unamused as she looks at them. 

They look up to you before heading your way up the stairs onto the balcony platform where you stand. You turn your gaze over to where one of the guards are leading them twords you before they make their final destination. 

“My lady, your grace.” the one with brown hair says as they both curtsy. 

“Who sent it to you?” Sansa asks, frowning. 

“Your brother, the lord snow. I am Melisandre High priestess of the red women, and this is my daughter, Yin '' she speaks again. Introducing herself and your child yet they both look virtually the same age. 

“Why are you here?” you ask. 

“Lord Snow sent for us to assist in the fight of the dead.” Yin speaks. You notice that she, unlike her mother, has blonde hair and a fair complexion. Beautiful nonetheless and most likely powerful if her mother is the high priestess. 

“I brought you brother back to life after the members of castle black retaliated and took his life from him leaving him in the snow to die.” Melisandre says. 

“That was you?” Sansa says she nods. 

“My daughter healed the rest of his wounds. No fear can be fulfilled without scars but he is alive and walking.” the red woman replies. 

Sansa nods, taking a moment before speaking again. 

“I will have sleeping quarters set up for you then. Jon is not here, he is on the wall but he should be back within the week." Sansa replies looking to measter aaron before turning back to melisandre nods thankful for the hospitality as sudden as it may have been. 

“Your grace.” lucy speaks as she walks up to you your son in her arms. He immediately reaches out to you wanting you. 

A smile is plastered on your face as you bring him into your arms holding him close. Sansa immediately holds out her hand and joss take her finger in his hand wrapping his first around it babbling. 

“The little prince.” yin speaks. You look at her, focusing on her words. 

“He will make a great king when the illness has subsided and you are to return home.” she says. You nod to her. 

“Y-yes but i will not force him to his kingly role if he does not wish it.” you say. 

“Of course not.” yin speaks once more.

“My ladies, your rooms are prepped and ready.” mester aaron says prompting them to follow him. 

“My lady, your grace.” melisandre and yin both curtsy before following the mester away to their rooms to settle for the day. Sansa gives you a look of slight worry before a distant roar is heard. Everyone stops and looks around before a gust of wind and snow is blown up. 

Both you and sansa hurry to the edge and look up seeing not one but two dragons. Flying over head. Huge beautiful creatures. 

“Jon must be back!” sansa exclaims looking to you. 

“I guess she really in the dragon queen.” you giggle she smiles back to you. 

—-----

You watch as all the soldiers and other enter winter fell being greeted before the dragon ‘queen’ herself enters and is helped off the horse back. Sansa reluctantly says hello as they get to know each other. You watch from above as jon looks up you. He gives you a smile and you reply back with a saddened one. 

The distant grumble of the dragons that rest outside of winterfell behind you take your attention. You admire them before taking your leave from the balcony and walking down the stairs walking up to jon and the others. 

“Daenerys. This he Her Grace queen y/n clegane of house vixen.” jon says you smile at the other women her age the same as yours. 

“Your grace.” You say curtsying to her as she does to you. 

“Its relief and pleasure to meet another queen and one of rightful status.” she speaks to you. 

You nod before answering. 

“I hope you can find comfort and warmth here its the middle of winter so i hope the cold isnt too much for you.” you speak. She smiles and shakes her head. 

“The cold is refreshing.” she says happily. 

“y/n..i have someone for you.” jon says you frown wondering why he got you a present. 

“Youve got her a present?” sansa asks a bit jealous. Jon just chuckles and shakes his head at his sister jealousy. 

“Your grace.” you say curtsying to her as she once more does the same. You notice that jon give her a quick peck on the cheek before walking leading you to your supposed gift. 

“Are you together?” you ask him a slight bit of distan on your words. 

“Yes briefly, she saved us beyond the wall and sacrificed one of her children for us.” he says. Thats right jon had sent a letter saying that she had three and there was only two in the back courtyard.

“She had three.” you say as you both walk twords the gardens. He nods. 

“The night king took one down and i'm hoping that the others stay put. She loves them, they are her children.” he says. You see others bringing in supplies for making weapons to defeat the army of the dead. 

“What is my gift youre being so ominus about it.” you say changing the subject. 

“Not what. Who.” he says you frown in confusion as you both stop walking. More people gather into the courtyard chatting and unloading supplies but one person in particular comes into view and your breath stops and your heart falters. 

You glance back at jon in disbelief. Your husband dismounts the large horse as he rides giving the reins to someone before taking a brief look around only to spot you. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes not not wavering from your face as he makes much haste twords you. 

​​“Sandor?” You speak with tears welling up in your eyes.

Its really him. He lets out a pained breath before his body meets yours, lifting you in his arms hooding you closer than ever, not wanting to leave you alone ever again, not wanting to let you go. Setting you down you share a deep kiss a much needed passion you’ve both missed. 

He’s missed the relaxation your touch brings him. All those nights dreaming of you in his arms, all those day thought of his pure hope to get back to you. The pain of his loneliness melts away as soon as it hits. Despite his rough exterior tear manage to slip past wetting his cheeks as his grip against you tightens, silently praying that you are real and this is real that he’s really back into your arms.

“I never stopped trying to get back to you.” He says his eyes searching your face he pulls off his gloves his hands taking place on either side of your face feeling the soft skin of your cheeks. 

“Brienne told me she killed you.” You says sobbing as you clutch onto him.

“That big bitch, shes here?” He scoffs you nod a smile crossing your face missing his gruffness.

“I thought you were dead?” Your voice breaks. Settling his hard gaze to soften against you.

“No.” He says pulling you closer that you already are to him as you continue to cry. 

“No..no i'm right here. I promise.” he says. you place your hand on his cheek he leans into your touch.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

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[jon-sedai]

It’s important that the first revelation of Nissa Nissa is accompanied by some level of skepticism from Salladhor Saan and aversion on Davos’ part. It doesn’t sound right that Azor Ahai chose to sacrifice his wife for a magic sword. It shouldn’t sound right.

“A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife. ‘Nissa Nissa,’ he said to her, for that was her name, ‘bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.’ She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

“Now do you see my meaning? Be glad that it is just a burnt sword that His Grace pulled from that fire. Too much light can hurt the eyes, my friend, and fire burns.” Salladhor Saan finished the last grape and smacked his lips. “When do you think the king will bid us sail, good ser?”

[…] A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost … When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay.

Not only does it not make sense that Nissa Nissa would agree to her husband’s request, it’s also telling how Salladhor Saan expresses relief in knowing that King Stannis didn’t actually forge Lightbringer. Because forging Lightbringer means human sacrifice. And why should one be deprived of their life, even if it’s for a magic sword? Davos is very right to be creeped out by it.

The theme of sacrifice shows up quite a bit in ASOIAF and Davos I isn’t the first or last time. The very first chapter in the series, Bran I, tackles this idea with Jon and the direwolves.

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five pups,” he told Father. “Three male, two female.”

“What of it, Jon?”

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. “You want no pup for yourself, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.”

Jon, though he may desperately desire to have his own piece of magic, would not sacrifice his siblings for it. He wouldn’t dare to deprave the girls, Arya and Sansa, of their own magic even when it might be very easy to do so. This is a pretty stark contrast (pun intended) to Azor Ahai and his Nissa Nissa. Azor Ahai’s first line of thought was to sacrifice his wife whereas Jon’s was to sacrifice himself. Sure Azor Ahai got his magic sword, but Jon’s self-sacrifice is not in vain either because he later earns his own wolf, who turns out to be even more special than the rest in the pack.

Bran IV kind of alludes to the idea of self sacrifice through Old Nan’s retelling of the last hero:

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Though the one we know is called the “last hero”, notice that it’s not a title but a mere descriptor; there were many heroes before him who died and he was the last one standing. There is a human toll in this legend, but it’s implied to be self sacrifice. It’s also interesting that though there is mention of a blade, it is the children of the forest’s magic that is key. This does kind of bleed into what we know about the Night’s Watch and its relation to the long night. The Night’s Watch victory was a group effort, rather than the actions of any one man.

We have several legends surrounding the long night that work, but only one involves the cost of sacrificing someone else (that we know of). This might be where GRRM is headed with Stannis and his creation of Lightbringer. Sure Azor Ahai did get his magic sword, but it doesn’t negate the steep human cost. GRRM has lowkey confirmed that Stannis is sure to burn Shireen. And rather than this sacrifice not working, I think it’s more likely that it does work. Stannis does indeed create the flaming sword. But this will be directly weighed by other (self) sacrifices made for the same purpose. Stannis’ sacrifice of his daughter won’t work any better than other characters who choose to sacrifice themselves even when knowing that they are not going to go down as individual legends; I think Jon Snow will once again be the prime example of this, as he has already resigned himself to being a shadow in history despite initially wanting the opposite. Maester Aemon was right in saying that

[…] all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that … light without heat … an empty glamor … the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam

The sword is wrong. Azor Ahai is NOT one to be emulated. Rather, he should be a cautionary tale. He is not any more special for his sacrifice than what the last hero or the men of the Night’s Watch did, even though we know his name but don’t know theirs. GRRM answered the question regarding sacrifice before he even posed it. To make someone else pay the price is flat out wrong. The only true and worthy sacrifice is really that of the self.

[atopvisenyashill]

im gonna finish adwd by the new year dammit

decided to start with davos chapters because FOR ME a davos chapter never misses (yall just have bad taste, sorry to say). gonna do this more like my got liveblogs, so this will probably be long because it’s all four davos chapters.

tldr of my thoughts on davos' adwd arc is:

davos is the common folk's superhero

manderly is RIGHT why is everyone discounting him as a loyal northerner when THEY MURDERED HIS SON MY GOD these people are asking to get baked into a pie

i am so so curious about the manderly family dynamics. i desperately want a longer and more intimate peek into that family!

wex pyke is iconic!!!!!

He had a sort of webbing between the three middle fingers of his right hand. Davos had heard that some of the lords of the Three Sisters had webbed hands and feet, but he had always put that down as just another sailor’s story.

love little details like this that really ground this story as a fantasy world!! just a trio of islands with people who still got webbing in their hands!!! i know this happens irl but usually that less "webbing between fingers" and more "fingers fused together" type thing - these people just have like, mermaid hands!

Those fingers do not lie. You are the onion knight.

they say this like he's batman omg THE COMMON PEOPLE'S HERO THE ONION KNIGHT

The galleys Oledo and Old Mother’s Son had been driven onto the rocks of Skagos, the isle of unicorns and cannibals where even the Blind Bastard had feared to land

RICKON AND SKAGOS MENTION

Part 30 in the epic love triangle of Salla, Stannis, and Davos, where Sallador begs Davos to come south with him and Davos refuses, going on his fool's errand to help win the North to Stannis' cause. Truly, whom else is giving me gay middle aged drama like this.

SISTER'S STEW. Damn I'm very hungry right now too.

The Manderlys are no northmen, not down deep.

CAREFUL MAN. I ENJOY YOU BUT BE CAREFUL SHIT TALKING THE MANDERLYS LIKE THIS.

It's funny that they say the Manderlys only came to the North "900 years ago" but you wouldn't say that Dorne isn't part Rhoynish just because the Rhoynar only came 1000 years ago. Like a hundred years isn't that much of a difference to discount the loyalty the Manderlys may have to the Starks!

The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

JON SNOW BABY THEORY. I know it's not true but I do wonder what happened to the fisherman's daughter that helped him. Did she have a bastard of someone else's? Was it just a rumor and her identity has long been forgotten, if she ever hears rumors about who jon’s mother is, what she thinks of them.

In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads it's true...but what if we prevail?

fuck i love ned so much

next chapter starts with a little tour of White Harbor, which is fun, getting to see a lot of the war refugees (bet Wyman feels stupid as fuck for leaving Lady Hornwood to die and not helping her escape Ramsay when he had the chance, Wyman you fucking jag off), then Davos just broods alone like "what am i meant for" FOR BEING A KING'S HAND YOU'RE JUST SERVING THE WRONG KING RIGHT NOW IT'S FINE YOUR KING IS STILL TURNING INTO A TREE BUT HE'LL BE BACK SOON

a slave revolt was raging in the east

DANYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

it’s interesting how “the last targaryen hatched dragons” and “there’s been several slave revolts” aren’t always connected as stories. probably just a comment on how slow news travels and how long the game of telephone going on is. i also love how when the men are talking about the targaryens that were in robert’s rebellion, a woman speaks up to be like “there was a girl too wasn’t there” AND she knows all about daena the defiant, very cute to me.

Robett Glover was in the city and had been trying to raise men, with little success. Lord Manderly had turned a deaf ear to his pleas. The Ryswells and the Dustins had surprised the ironmen on the Fever River and put their longships to the torch. And now the Bastard of Bolton was riding south with Hother Umber to join them for an attack on Moat Cailin. Some Hornwood men have joined them, and Cerwyns too. Ser Wylis, though, he's still a captive

just tracking northmen movements here

i love that the sloe eyed maid shows up all the way back in acok in a dany chapter, then we get to see what happened to it in a davos chapter all the way in adwd. once again, makes the world feel so connected, and the fact that it's davos, who understands the very specific pain of taking the risk to sail all the way to the east, only to die being tricked by a light in the Sisters......it's so good.

The knight wore silver armor, his greaves and gauntlet inlaid with niello to suggest flowing fronds of seaweed. The helm beneath his arm was the head of the merling king, with a crown of mother-of-pearl and a jutting beard of jet and jade.

the fact that the northerners never got any fit as sexy as they do in the books.....d&d when i catch you in these streets!!!

i forgot how infuriating that "robb actually killed all his own men by turning into a wolf" story is omg, the freys do have one thing and that's the AUDACITY because JEEZ the way they just keep going and going when even davos who doesn't know these people is like "hmmm wyman looks a little pissed off"

i am curious.....idk......robb turned into a wolf and murdered all his own men......sansa killed the king then turned into a bat and flew away...........am i cooking here?

i'm so interested in whether wynafryd is treated as heir apparent by wyman. wyman says she’s in on the plan, yet neither her sister nor mother are. this feels like a HUGE responsibility and secret he’s shared with her.

Davos asking for a book so he can keep at his reading...my heart...the little librarian in me started crying omg

king hon stark name drop…..the wolf den raised to defend against raiders….

I rose up from flea bottom to be a king’s hand and I learned how to read and write.

i’m sorry…..i’m crying again…..he learned how to read and write, on part with being the hand of the king….slight personal story but my great uncle dropped out of school in 6th grade to sell newspapers (he wasn’t a newsie, his dad has a truck, they did it together, which sounds slightly less like a dickens novel) but anyways he had very poor reading and writing skills and idk it’s just always something that gets to me about davos, that the reading is what he holds so dear, as dear as stannis’ favor!

PICTURE ME SCREAMING “ROBBEEEEEEEEEEEETT” AND RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF. NORTHERN POLITICS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

i had to calm down i was so excited i was doing that thing where your eyes keep jumping down the page so you’re mixing up you’re reading.

They crossed the castle’s godswood, where the heart tree had grown so huge and tangled that it had choked out all the oaks and elms and birch and sent its thick, pale limbs crashing through the walls and windows that looked down on it. Its roots were as thick around as a man’s waist, its trunk so wide that the face carved into it looked fat and angry.

britney_yeah.gif

What Did I Just Say Up There. So stupid to think Wyman isn’t just as Northern as the rest of them. If we wanna start getting tacky with it, Wyman is so ready to get tacky with it. Sorry to Freys & Lannisters but I think the pies is a cooler war crime!

“PORRIDGE FOR THE DEAD MAN.” Garth the gaoler is a comedian actually omg promote him to court jester!!

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.

Wex is soooooo fucking funny, like setting Theon up to feel up his own sister on Pyke & being way too pleased about it, then being the first to join up for Theon’s last stand and forcing a bunch of proud old dudes to die for that idiot but managing to survive by hiding literally inside the Weirwood, and then over dramatically throwing a dagger at the island of skagos on a map to show Davos where Rickon is. This kid is funnier than most adults i know lmao, Wex Pyke you’re an icon.

[windriverdelta]

On Stannis Baratheon's eventual fate in the ASOIAF books

So, we know that Stannis Baratheon is going to burn his daughter alive in the books like in Game of Thrones, since Martin has confirmed that this is one of his "moments" for GoT. That naturally raises the question of what will happen to Stannis afterwards.

TL;DR, I find Stannis becoming a Night's Watch member - and probably Lord Commander - by the end of ASOIAF the most likely outcome.

In the show, Stannis lost the subsequent battle with the Boltons and was then killed by Brienne. While the same battle ("Battle of Ice") is also happening in the books shortly after the Theon TWOW chapter, we can actually rule out this scenario rather easily for the books. One, Shireen is hundreds of miles away in Castle Black, and there is no way that she could get to Stannis in time to get burned. Two, Stannis is likely going to win the battle and seize Winterfell afterwards, for both plot and theme reasons. Three, in the Davos ASOS chapters we see that Stannis is prepared to burn an innocent child alive ... to save a million from the dark. A.K.A from the Others, not for a battle. And Melisandre wanted to wake a dragon from stone with said sacrifice, but there is no stone dragon available anywhere except maybe in Winterfell. Fourth, Brienne is nowhere near close enough to Stannis and the only appearance of Stannis in her POV is this:

They are not his sons. Stannis told it true, that day he met with Renly. Joffrey and Tommen were never Robert's sons. 

This isn't the comment she'd make if she still cared deeply about avenging Renly - especially when contrasted to this:

Timeon was still trying to fight as she pulled her blade from him, its fullers running red with blood. He clawed at his belt and came up with a dagger, so Brienne cut his hand off. That one was for Jaime. 

Fifth, Stannis being Azor Ahai is one of the lies Daenerys has to slay. Him falling against the Boltons would break that prophecy.

In fact, I am going to go out on a limb and say that any scenario that has Stannis dying before the invasion of the Others is ruled out for the above reasons. That probably guarantees his survival into ADoS, since it's likely that the climax of the Other invasion and Daenerys' arrival happen there.

That leaves a few scenarios. The one where he is killed by Daenerys is seemingly unpopular, probably for good reason: There isn't much of a concrete reason for her to do so - especially since in the books, the conflict and eventual destruction of King's Landing likely precedes Daenerys' arrival in the North - and when you look closely you notice that the "blue-eyed king" (=Stannis) isn't actually the subject of the slayer of lies prophecy, while the "cloth dragon" (=Aegon) and "stone beast" (=Euron?) are. A hint that this encounter will be less lethal.

A very popular theory is that Stannis becomes the new Night's King. Probably unjustifiably so, though:

The similitude between the two isn't that great. Melisandre as we see in her POV chapter isn't actually an Evil Seducer, while the woman with the Night's King seems to fit the description of the Others more. Human sacrifice wasn't the Night's King's foremost sin, either. Finally, lots of people other than the Night's King resided or set foot in the Nightfort, there is no evidence that it has a cursing effect akin to the Harrenhal curse, and Stannis hasn't actually visited it yet.

Going by Old Nan's tale of the Night's King, it seems like he was seduced by the power to betray humanity to the Others. While Stannis contemplates sacrificing one person for humanity. In other words, the exact opposite motivations. In this context, @turtle-paced's analysis of the Night's King here as book!Euron should be read.

Oh yeah, and the Euron Greyjoy we see in TWOW The Forsaken preview chapter is a far better candidate for "new Night's King" than Stannis (or Jon Snow, or Bran)

The second-to-last theory is that Stannis simply dies, presumably in battle against the Others, after the attempt to awake a dragon with thr Shireen sacrifice fails. Given that the "slayer of lies" prophecy and the discussions between Melisandre, Maester Aemon and Jon Snow imply that Stannis isn't Azor Ahai, I think it's safe to assume that the sacrifice will indeed fail. That said, while once again @turtle-paced wrote an argument I once again can't find about how this outcome would be in character, I don't recall any specific foreshadowing.

The last theory also presumes that the sacrifice will fail, but that Stannis will join the Night's Watch in atonement at the end. And that, well, has some foreshadowing: In Jon XI ASOS:

They found Stannis Baratheon standing aloneat the edge of the Wall, brooding over the field where he had won his battle, and the great green forest beyond. He was dressed in the same black breeches, tunic, and boots that a brother of theNight's Watch might wear. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy golden cloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flaming heart

Jon VIII ADWD, in particular considering the fact that the Shireen sacrifice will consist of burning her alive as per the other sacrifices Melisandre and Stannis have carried out:

Jon's temper flashed. "They have followed worse. The Old Bear left a few cautionary notes about certain of the men, for his successor. We have a cook at the Shadow Tower who was fond of raping septas. He burned a seven-pointed star into his flesh for every one he claimed. His left arm is stars from wrist to elbow, and stars mark his calves as well. At Eastwatch we have a man who set his father's house afire and barred the door. His entire family burned to death, allnine. Whatever Satin may have done in Oldtown, he is our brother now, and he will be my squire."

And given that Stannis takes advice from a King's Landing smuggler and will win the battle of Winterfell with pirate tactics ("wrecking" with false lighthouses; Davos I ADWD), Davos II ACoK:

"Salladhor Saan thinks only of gold!" Stannis exploded. "His head is full of dreams of the treasure he fancies lies under the Red Keep, so let us hear no more of Salladhor Saan. The day I need military counsel from a Lysene brigand is the day I put off my crown and take the black." The king made a fist. "Are you here to serve me, smuggler? Or to vex me with arguments?"

Moreover, it's noted in-story that Jon Snow is the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and after his assassination we'll probably see the election of a 999th afterwards - probably one of the mutineers. That leaves slot 1000 for after the series, since the Wall will almost certainly fall, and it calls for a big name. And the dutiful, skilled-in-military-matters, not very sociable Stannis Baratheon would probably fit right in the Night's Watch.

[daenystheedreamer]

top 5 asoiaf povs

theon greyjoy. yeah yeah i know. SORRY but its funny. you are in the head of the first man in westeros to ever have BPD and you hate him. uh oh he got put in the grinder now he's mince meat. i think a major reason he's my favourite is the cathartic meta-narrative? i.e. the catharsis of THEON I and 'theon my name is theon' is unparralelled

cersei. god she's so fucking funny. love her. i love being put into the mind of someone so fundementally different from mine and really truly seeing the world through their eyes. her worldview makes sense to her, her paranoia is reality. it works well as both a tragedy (empathy to her character) and a comedy (the dramatic irony. girl youre just getting chubby.)

jaime&brienne. i simply cant seperate them into two bullet points. i know brienne's chapters are seen as boring or contributing nothing but no tf they arent!! maybe its because im lowborncoded and smallfolkpilled... i also think they parallel each other in their exploration of womanhood and manhood, masculinity and femininity. they just cant be seperated! theyre both explorations of what it means to be a knight... christ. love them. also jaime is soooo funny. my lil funnyman making his lil jokes.

CATELYN the choice to not include WOT5K kings as povs GENUINE stroke of genius. having cat as the robb pov explores the role of women in westerosi society so fucking well. also she's just very funny:

also men will wage war killing gajillions of peasants in an eternal time loop but cat is like 'ew poor people' ONCE and suddenly she's the villain 🙄

HONOURABLE MENTIONS jon snow i love your cunty little remarks. i was gonna include arya&sansa as one pick but thats pushing it to far. it hurt not to include melisandre. god and bran..... i simply cant pick!!! and davos and tyrion and dany wahhh<3. arys/victarion/quentyn are definitively bottom of the list though

[st-clements-steps]

omg, so many asoiaf. 30, 31, 22, 18, 11, 16. am i even allowed to ask that many

Yay, hello, This is for this

30. POV character I wish wasn't - I find Davos really laborious to read on occasion, but the Nissa Nissa contemplation, and his descriptions of Wex, my little knife throwing genius boy, mean I'm going to go Arys Oakheart, just give that POV to Arianna (I think its mainly how much I want to slap him during the smut) 31. A character I'd like to elevate to POV - Jeyne P or Pretty Pia, I don't know that we need Jeyne P narratively speaking, like I don't want to lose any of Theon, but I want her to have a voice. But definitely if one of those Jaime chapters where he's 'saved' Pia could go to her, I'd be so interested and I think that narratively that could work? 22. A queer-coded character, I'd argue with GRRM about - Asha, she's bi, she loves Alysanne Mormont's thighs and she's convinced me to agree with her. (He's explicitly said Asha is het, I'm assuming I don't need to argue with him about Jon, he knows surely that that boy fancies every pretty haired man he's ever met, and maybe even Sigorn, who's actually got a bit of a receding hairline) 18. Mystery I want solved NOW - All the Citadel stuff in the prologue for Feast. I need to know about Alleras, they are really Sarella, yes? And exactly what happened to Pate? And now a faceless man is pretending to be Pate? Why if they got the key? And who hired the faceless men for whatever this is. I want all that explained, please and thank you. 16. Favourite sibling dynamic - Robb and Sansa. Also Robb and Jon. (I actually am a bit weird about Robb, I consider him Robblematic, but he's very interesting as a brother). For some reason I imagined this meant a 1:1 relationship, but obviously if it doesn't the Lannisters as a three. And actually what first occurred to me was Viserys and Daenerys in AGOT. And yeah Asha and Theon definitely. So many good sibling dynamics, so little time, I am an only child so actually let's just think about Shireen for a bit here too and the only child dynamic. thank you, I cannot explain how much I enjoyed answering this.

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

So… Yes, I do remember I have this WIP here…

I am so sorry for the delay. The muse on this work has kind of left me for a long while -which really sucks because I know exactly what I want to happen from here to the end, but…

Anyway.

Thank you so much for all the support and for all of you who had not given up on this. You’re the best.

I hope you enjoy this.

***

Chapter 14

Edmund rushed into the room. “What has happened?”

“Too many things to count.” Arya grumbled.

He looked around the room and noticed that his siblings were already there, besides Davos, Brienne, Sam, and Tormund. Jon had Sansa by his side and Arya was by the door.

“One thing at the time.” Jon asked. “Is everyone here now?”

“Yes, my lord.” Davos was the one to say it.

“Close the door.” Jon asked. “Whatever is discussed here now cannot be repeated outside.”

They all agreed and Edmund -the last to come in -closed the door.

Jon turned to Sansa. “We will start with your letter.”

She nodded. “I have been communicating with Tyrion Lannister. Susan has helped me with that.” She told Jon.

“What?” Arya demanded.

“He is the Hand of the Queen.” Sansa continued, like her sister hadn’t said anything. “And he wants a peaceful solution to all of this just as much as we do.”

Of course Jon had been aware of the letters. Sansa was loyal to him, and she’d never undermine him by scheming with Tyrion behind his back. When she suggested talking to the other man, Jon told her he trusted her, but to be careful and let him know how that went.

“Tyrion hasn’t managed to convince Queen Daenyris to helps us without Jon bending the knee.” She explained the others. “However, he did manage to convince her to send us some Dragonglass as a gesture of goodwill.”

Jon stood up immediately. “He did? They will send us Dragonglass?” He couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.” Sansa confirmed. “However, it’s not going to be a lot. As I said, it is a supposed ‘gesture of goodwill’, but she still won’t fly ther dragons down here and help unless you bend the knee.”

Jon sighed. “How much Dragonglass are we talking about?”

“A few carts.”

His sigh got heavier. “When will it be here?”

“Two weeks.”

“I don’t know if we have that time.” Jon suddenly felt exhausted.

“We won’t have much more.” Lucy cut in gently. “At least, not according to your brother.”

“Bran?” Jon said, even though there wasn’t anyone else.

Lucy nodded. “He wanted to talk to me earlier. He says we have a part to play and that Narnia must help on this fight.”

“With all due respect, little lady…” Tormund coughed. “How is that going to happen? Isn’t your Narnia in another world?”

Lucy gave her siblings a look. “It is time we explain this story in greater detail.”

Peter just nodded. “Go ahead.”

For the minutes Lucy delved deep into their history with Narnia. She told the Starks everything -this time without cutting any details. She told them about the great war in their world, about the train, the wardrobe.

About Narnia.

This time she told them about the talking animals, the dancing trees and Aslan.

Edmund lowered his head when the witch was mentioned, but Peter put a hand on his shoulder. The Pevensies didn’t interrupt once, not even to add anything to what Lucy was saying. They let her tell the story of how they became rulers of Narnia.

The Starks also didn’t say a word. Jon and Sansa just listened intently to the tale, while Arya semmed like she did want to ask questions, but was waiting for the right moment.

Tormund was actually the only one making any sound as he followed the story with the interest of a child. He even called the White Witch a cunt. Twice.

When Lucy was finally done, after she told them about their coronation, a silence fell on the room.

“Lady Lucy…” Jon sighed. “You must know how that sounds.”

Her sigh was more resigned than his. “I do, Your Grace.”

Jon ran his hand down his face, then turned to Sansa. “What do you think?”

Sansa let out a strangled snort. “Honestly? I don’t know. Sure, this looks beyond insane, but… There are dragons, Jon. There are living dead soldiers made of ice. What is a talking lion in the big scheme of things at this point?”

“When you put it like that…” Arya grumbled.

“We still have one problem, my lord.” Davos called from his place. “I do not mean to doubt you, Lady Lucy, but… How exactly are they getting here?”

“I want to know that too.” Sam piped up.

“And help would be great, but we have to feed people.” Sansa pointed out. “If another army comes here, I’m not sure what we are going to do.”

“But, my lady, if I may?” Brienne spoke up, she waited for permission to carry on. “One thing cannot be denied: since they arrived the winter had mellowed out considerably.”

“We can’t say it was because of us.” Peter was fast to say. “We don’t wish to take credit for that.”

“I know.” Jon agreed. “However, Lady Brienne is right. Winters here last… This is not normal and it only started once you came in. What if the same profecy that made you save a kingdom will be enough to save another?”

“I see your point, my king.” Peter pressed, more carefully than he’d ever spoken before. “But those are dangerous hopes.”

“Which is why none of this can leave this room.” Sansa said quickly. “We cannot tell people any of that.”

“Except…” Lucy cleared her throat. “Lord Bran told me that the army or Narnia will come. So the people from the North are about to be faced with animals that can speak. And centaurs. And fauns.”

“But how are they coming?” Jon demanded. “When?”

Lucy turned to Susan. “You need to call them.”

It took Susan only a second to understand what her sister was suggesting. “The horn?”

“Yes.” Lucy confirmed. “It will bring help, always. This is the help we need.”

“What about the horn?” Jon wanted to know.

“It is magical. It will bring help to whoever needs it.” Susan explained.

“Oh the Seven.” Arya groaned. “More magic?”

“Can’t you change faces?” Edmund asked the young Stark, and she just glared at him.

“Are you suggesting that if you blown that horn, we will have an army here?” Jon wanted to know.

“I am not.” Susan shook her head. “I am just saying that this is what the horn is supposed to do. Bring help.”

“Lord Bran said that she needs to do it.” Lucy cut in. “He said that she’d do it, and we’d have an army from Narnia.”

“I thought he couldn’t predict the future.” Arya turned to Sansa.

“He says it’s not predicting the future.” Sansa sighed. “He can see multiple possibilities. It doesn’t mean they’ll come to fruition.”

Arya scoffed. “How convenient.”

“My lord.” Peter took a step forward, looking at Jon. “At this point, what do we have to lose? If Susan blows the horn and nothing happens, we keep preparing the way we were before. You will receive your Dragonglass. Nobody needs to know about this.”

Jon’s head fell forward. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“Fuck’s sake, Snow.” Tormund called. “Dragons, army of the dead. What difference does a horn make?”

When someone put it like that… “Fine.” Jon sighed. “Blow the horn.”

They all turned to Susan with expectant expressions, like she was about to do a magic trick.

Ever since Jon had given them their things back, Susan had kept the horn by her side at all times. It was as if somewhere in the back of her mind she’d known this was coming.

She pulled the horn from her belt and took a deep breath in.

“Please…” She thought in her own head. “Please, we need you.”

Susan put the horn to her lips and blew it, the sound echoing through the keep.

***

Nothing happened.

The day ended and the night became quiet.

They didn’t want to feel disappointed, but Jon was tired of the hopelessness.

Lucy didn’t seem defeated by the lack of immediate answer, and her siblings quietly agreed with her.

Jon went to sleep, feeling more tired than ever.

He was awoken by frantic knocks on his door hours later.

“Your Grace! There’s an army! An army!”

Jon grabbed his sword and ran out of the bedroom, desperate. The army of the dead couldn’t be there, not yet!

As he reached the ramparts, he found Lucy, Bran and Meera there. It was such a shocking sight, he’d stopped short. “What…”

“Look!” Lucy pointed at the horizon, where the sun would come out only hours later.

He could see the lines of soldiers, the torches in their hands.

It wasn’t the army of the dead.

Was that a…

“Aslan.” Lucy murmured, emotion clogging her voice.

“The Narnians are here.” Bran declared.

***

Notes: I think it’s important to notice that it has always been my plan for the Narnians to come and save the day. I just wasn’t sure when they’d come.

And then it occurred to me that if they appeared dramatically the day before the battle it’d look cooler, but it also would be weird as hell for the people of the North. So they came early.

Let me know your feelings!

[wraithwen]

asoiaf asks! what is your favorite house? who is your favorite character in the books and are they also your favorite character to draw? is there a character you've never drawn before but would like to? and lastly who is your fav pov to read?

what is your favorite house?

rn it's a tossup between lannisters and boltons and i used to be a die hard house stark dickrider when i was 12 lmao. so there is nostalgic fondness for them in me (+ as a northerner i feel some kinship) but i'm just way more into the meanies now

who is your favorite character in the books and are they also your favorite character to draw?

now kind of contrary to the previous answer my favourite character is jon. and i do think he's one of my favorites to draw which might be obvious haha

is there a character you've never drawn before but would like to?

tyrion!! he's in my top 5 but i haven't gotten around to figuring out his design in my head. and dany and jeor and qhorin and lyanna and renly and brienne and

and lastly who is your fav pov to read?

genuinely cannot decide between tyrion, theon and sansa

tyrion – i love the scheming, the politicking and the small council meetings. and you can really tell grrm LOVES tyrion and so do i. also there's cersei

theon – funniest inner monologue. terrible shit keeps happening to him and he is maintaining his hater spirit ouuhghhh (and i WAS giggling like a schoolgirl when pseudoreek appeared ^^ hehe hiii)

sansa – again whatever goes on in kings landing i have to know + love seeing her dynamics with everyone. and there's cersei <3

and this is subject to change as i just finished acok (child show enjoyer > wiki/tumblr lurker > actually got to reading) BUT i do so far enjoy most of the povs, these three are just the ones that feel the most consistently fun? i do love jon but sometimes it is so very teenage boy managers assistant & i do also love stannis but davos chapters are truly that one post and i don't even hate davos. anyway i cannot wait for cersei pov i am about to have a ball

[visenyaism]

Top 5 asoiaf historical characters or top 5 povs to read from ?

my favorite chapter of all time still goes to the tyrion boat school chapter in adwd but in terms of favorite POVs to read?

6. joncon- giving myself a bonus one to talk about how reading his chapters made me feel like i was dissolving like a powerpoint transition. there’s just so much grief and love and bitterness and doom packed into there it is unreal.

5. sam- gender. he is just so special i’ve never read a fantasy protag quite like samwell tarly and his quest to realize his compassion, empathy, and courage are his greatest strengths despite being discouraged by hypermasculine violent feudal society. he is the real protagonist of asoiaf to me.

4. jonsnow- i liked his pov’s in all the books, but ADWD where he is just trying as hard as possible not to be the protagonist after going though like 4 different genres (can u BELIEVE he started off as a boarding school protagonist) even though he literally has super strengthis so beloved to me. His ongoing crisis where he has to realize that despite everything everyone tries to impose on him he has only ever been just himself is so so real (just as real as him being king beyond the wall. btw) though getting immediately killed for it has to be a downer. MY son was turncloak of the month at castle black👍

3. Jaime- he’s funny. he’s cringe. he stares a lot for someone who can’t fight. he’s delusional. he can’t fit a whole knight in his head. he hasn’t emotionally matured past the age of seventeen. everything he says is insane and also heartbreaking. i love jaime POVs so much y’all don’t get it.

2. Cersei- reading cersei i for the first time last year rewired my brain and i was loud about it. Unlike cersei i was not raised by a fascist nightmare but as a nonbinary girltwin i can say that getting raised alongside a direct example of what your life would’ve been like without misogyny can be very hard, especially when you hit puberty and the “your brother is a person and you are the girl one” starts to get even louder. I was fucking alarmed how personally compelling her weird gender thoughts were given EVERYTHING else the Lannister twins have going on that is NOT personally relevant to me. Don’t know how george rr martin old cishet man that he is knew about any of that.

She’s completely delusional, and at times her mental gymnastics are so so fucking funny, but the like roiling layer of unspeakable (literally unspeakable she refuses to speak or acknowledge it) pain and fear underneath is what got me really. Watching her scheme out of arrogance and mortal terror really just to gain respect and bodily autonomy (though in the Tywin way where freedom from abuse and the “right” to abuse others are the same thing) and then just losing everything incredibly fucking hard was really compelling. i hope you win.

1. Melisandre- wait i said another chapter was my favorite of all time in this post? no i didn’t not when melisandre i is in the room. i have talked about this one extensively and probably will do so again. Finding out that r’hllor is literally her enslaved and her entire black and white apocalyptic worldview is her attempt to feel safe within that truth because she is still just a scared little girl at heart who needs what she’s saying to be true because if it’s not none of her suffering was worth it was the revelation of all time. That and the revelation that she actually does have a human attachment to Davos to the point that she’s watching over his son to spare him the grief. We WILL get melisandre ii in this lifetime and it will break my heart all over again because she is going to outlive stannis and have to survive the worldview shattering.

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother. 

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.” 

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.” 

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did). 

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.   

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day. 

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good. 

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?” 

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.” 

Ah. 

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection. 

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.” 

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly. 

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.” 

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused. 

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-” 

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!” 

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks. 

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas. 

Right?

Tag List:

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@bey0nd-1he-stars

[lemonhemlock]

Hi hope you're having a good day / night from where you are !

Just out of curiosity among HOTD / GOT characters, which is your favorite and least favorite ?

But also aside from shows, is there a book character who you prefer or dislike ?

hi anon i hope your well-wishes are well-returned <3

hotd-wise i would say alicent & aegon are my favourites. honestly aemond too bc he is soooooooo cartoonishly evil in the books that it just makes me cackle like a murder of crows & i love anything that makes me cackle. got-wise, well, you know, my cersei-jaime-sansa trifecta, to which i'd add others like brienne and davos and theon. never met a lannister i didn't like (yes, including tywin & tyrion). not very different from the books overall.

characters i dislike - i have to be honest - i tend to get irritated with lannister-haters, no matter how justified they are in their POV. 😹 (apart from my queen salsa starch who can do no wrong) so i have a difficult relationship with characters like catelyn or arya, but that's just simply me rooting for my problematic faves & living life to the fullest. i've come to appreciate catelyn a lot more over the years and i've always found her chapters interesting regardless, so it's hard to label it as dislike per se. generally-speaking, i would say that arya & dany are the most frustrating for me, in large part as a result of their fanbases, which doesn't really have any bearing on their construction or importance within the text, but here we are.

as far as arya is concerned, i'm not really a fan of survival narratives, so her chapters, while interesting in parts, are not something i would willingly choose to read and, as a result, her character is just not entertaining for me to engage with. i also really rolled my eyes at how overpowered the show made her. when it comes to dany, she was fine in AGOT and i really liked her, but started to get more obnoxious as the books went on and it got to the point in ADWD where i outwardly cringed whenever i turned the page and the title read "daenerys". unfortunately, she also attracts a lot of aggressive & delusional fans who make fandom spaces insufferable with their inability to engage with criticism, so it all ends up piling on my lack of patience with her.

similarly, what irritates me the most in tyrion is his fandom perception. i've had to put ADWD down during his chapters bc i just couldn't take his inner voice anymore and had to force myself to pick it up again. so witnessing all the PR whitewashing surrounding him was another eye-roll era for me

EDIT: oh my gosh i forgot stannis and renly. the failbrothers. one is cringe the other delulu. speaking of which, i'm not the biggest fan of olenna and margaery either

[ao3feed-tywin]

The Great Young Wolf

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/uyPX2Q6

by TFJWise49

Come the new year, I started reading Game of Thrones fanfictions, and I decided to write one of my own. This is my first ever one, so feel free to give whatever criticisms you think are necessary. And there are plenty of "what ifs" in this: What if Ned sent Robb to King's Landing to learn under Jon Arryn? What if Jon Arryn sent for his great-nephew Harrold Hardyng to get to know his great-nephew better? What if Arianne Martell was sent to King's Landing to "case the joint" for House Martell? And finally, what if Theon chose to support the family that he felt a part of rather than the family that scorned him back home?

I make no apologies for my bias towards Robb Stark, he is my favourite character and deserved better than what he got. I decided to go with Robb Stark and Arianne Martell because they seem to be a rarely-used couple and when I got planning and read a few other fanfictions online, I thought that this would fit perfectly.

Well, enjoy, and like I said, feel free to give whatever criticisms you think are necessary.

Words: 170766, Chapters: 43/43, Language: English

Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Robb Stark, Arianne Martell, Harrold Hardyng, Gendry (A Song of Ice and Fire), Catelyn Tully Stark, Ned Stark, Sansa Stark, Grey Wind | Robb Stark's Direwolf, Tyrion Lannister, Jory Cassel, Brienne of Tarth, Theon Greyjoy, Willas Tyrell, Garlan Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell, Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, Jon "The Greatjon" Umber, Dacey Mormont, Harrion Karstark, Eddard Karstark, Torrhen Karstark, Arya Stark, Davos Seaworth, Mace Tyrell, Hoster Tully, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, Edmure Tully, Jon Arryn, Lysa Tully Arryn, Petyr Baelish, Yohn Royce, Nestor Royce, Robar "the Red" Royce, Lucas Blackwood, Oberyn Martell, Ellaria Sand, Sand Snakes (ASoIaF), Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, Olenna Tyrell

Relationships: Arianne Martell/Robb Stark, Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark, Gendry/Margaery Tyrell, Catelyn Tully Stark/Ned Stark, Roslin Frey/Edmure Tully

Additional Tags: BAMF Robb Stark, BAMF Harrold Hardyng, Past Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, N Plus A Equals J | Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark are Jon Snow's Parents, BAMF Gendry, Domeric Bolton Lives, Dead Ramsay Bolton, The North is strong

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/uyPX2Q6