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

[wraithwen]

pledge allegiance to my burning heart

[luvsfics]

WHAT THEY DON’T KNOW — house of the dragon

Davos Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

[ forbidden love, sex content, oral sex, semi-outdoor sex ]

Description: The long-going feud between house’s Blackwood and Bracken won’t stop her from loving the man her heart desires, even if he is on the other side of the dispute.

Authors note: he might not be benjicot Blackwood but he’s still my man. And yes, I’m doing this instead of writing chapter 4 of serendipity…

The young lady Bracken sighed as her brothers messed around the field, a little too close to the barrier stones that separated the lands of house Blackwood and Bracken.

“Can you even get that thing up?” One of the brothers laughed. Aeron pulled the hilt of his sword from his belt, “Well enough for killing Blackwood’s” he smirked.

She only rolled her eyes, weaving daisies together to make a crown, bored of her brothers yet not enough to stay inside with her family back home.

She missed her lover. Though, she could never say it out loud, for she would be cast aside by her own family, she was in love with a Blackwood, and he loved her too.

“Bracken!” A familiar voice shouted. All of the yellow clothed siblings looked towards the men, a fluttering feeling filling her belly as she saw her lover stepping towards them.

“Put the boundary stones back.” Davos demanded.

“We didn’t move them.” Aeron said as he moved towards the Blackwoods. Davos scoffed, “Oh, did they move themselves then?”

“Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass.” He continued.

Even when angry, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She constantly had to bite back a smile whenever she was around her family when she thought about him or saw him.

“The assize of Riverrun-“ Aeron began, “fuck the assize, and fuck you.” Davos smugly said, annoyed at the Bracken man.

“This is our land.”

“It’s Bracken land.”

The Lady Bracken finally stood from her rock, smoothing out the sides of her dress, flower crown in hand. She slowly stepped towards her brother, Aeron.

He turned away from the Blackwood boy, walking away from the situation. The Bracken girl’s eyes never left her lovers and his gaze finally met hers, almost softening instantly.

“Babe-killer.” Aeron mumbled under his breath as he passed his sister.

“What did you say?” His head whipped towards the Bracken boy. Aeron sucked in a breath, stepping back in front of his sister in a way of protecting her.

“Your false queen, Rhaenyra, is a kinslayer.” She gulped at her brother’s words. She knew what her lover would think of this, she worried of his words that would come later that night when they saw each other.

He knew she never agreed with her family, yet he always had something to say.

“Your uncle declared for Aegon, did he?” Davos bit his tongue.

“Well then, let me tell you.” He said as he stepped towards the Bracken’s. “Aegon Targaryen is no true king…just as you are not true knight.” He got into the boys face.

“You’re both craven, little cunts!” He exclaimed as he pushed the man back. She gasped a quickly stepped out of the way, Aeron pulled out his sword, pointing it at the man before him.

“Aeron!” She shouted.

Davos began laughing, stepping towards the blade, “you wouldn’t dare!”

She quickly broke up the men, “stop this at once! It is merely stones, they can be put back!” She tried to explain.

“Sister-!”

“We will put them back.” She looked between the boys before settling her eyes on her secret lover. “They will be put back, I promise you.”

His gaze lightened, “they better be.” He said as he pulled away, commanding his brothers to follow him back home.

“Why would you do that?” Aeron asked.

“Would you rather die over stones?” She scoffed.

“Fuck-“ she gasped as her lover flicked his tongue over her swollen bud, one hand gripping his dark locks under her skirts and another gripping the wooden barrel beneath her.

The torch light of the empty stable, much far away from the homes of both lovers, shined against her pale skin. Her dress falling down her shoulders.

His tongue entered her dripping entrance. The moans that escaped her were loud and needy as she through her head back in pleasure.

“Davos, please- my love!” Her hips began grinding onto his face, chasing the pleasure he brought her.

His hands gripped onto the soft flesh of her thighs, eating her cunt as if it would be the last meal he would ever have.

The feeling of her peak blinded her, forcing her to see the light. Her noises were louder than ever before as he brought her to her high.

Her heart beat rapidly as she came down to earth, giggling at the bubbly feeling she felt expanding through her.

Her lover stood from her skirts, licking his lips of her essences. His smile was intoxicating, his hands found their way to her waist as he pulled her into him, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss as she jumped down with shaky legs to the ground.

“I love you-“ he mumbled into her mouth.

She pulled away from his lips with a smile on her face, “and I love you.” She pressed her forehead to his.

His hungry lips found hers again in a sensual kiss. He began yanking the dress down her shoulders and she reached to unlace the bodice.

The dress became undone and fell off her body, leaving her in a shift. The Bracken girl unpinned his cloak from his shoulders and slid it off, laying to on the ground below them.

She shrugged his undershirt off of his torso, her fingers finding their way to his breeches, unlacing the pants as they knelt down onto the cloak.

He threw off his breeches as she pulled her shift off of herself, revealing their bare bodies to each other.

He took her bare beauty in for a brief moment, truly not understanding how she could be apart of such a horrible family, yet be so perfect.

“My beautiful girl.” He smiled as he quickly tucked his head into her neck, bringing them to lay onto the cloak. She laughed at the feeling of his lips on her skin like a feather tickling her.

He leaned over her body, pressing a sweet kiss onto her smiling lips. His hands shifted her thighs up to rest on his hips.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

She nodded, taking his cheeks into her hands and gently pressing their heads together. Intimate moments like this, she cherished.

She gasped as his cock pushed against her entrance before sliding in gently. He bit his tongue at how tight she was, no matter how many times they did this, she was still so tight.

He began pumping into her tight, sopping cunt. His head fell into her neck with a groan, his hips not stopping their growing pace.

Her moans were music to his ears, conformation he was doing well.

“My love-“ she whimpered into his ear, planting wet kisses onto his neck. Her walls tightened around his cock as he continuously hit the deepest and most pleasurable part of her core.

Her back arched into him, her tits pressed themselves against his chest. “Davos-“ she gasped.

“Go on, my sweet- cum for me..” he groaned. Her cunt spasmed around his length, her mouth fell agape at the feelings of her peak taking over her for the second time that night.

His thrusts grew quick and erratic, he was close as well. “Fuck-“ he groaned, gripping onto her thigh with one hand and holding himself up onto the hay above her.

He quickly pulled out of her cunt, his hand flying down to his cock, pumping himself onto her stomach. His cum painted her belly in white streaks.

He fell down to her side and laid their panting next to his lover.

She pulled her handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and wiped herself and her belly from their spend.

The Bracken girl snuggled her body into her lovers side, head resting on his chest. Her fingers danced on his chest, drawing random shapes onto the warm skin. He pulled her in close with his arm, his own fingers caressing the skin of her bicep.

“So, your uncle really declared for aegon?” He broke the comforting silence.

She sighed, “must we really talk about this now, right after you fucked me so good?” She raised her head from his chest with a smile.

“Only asking, my love. Your brother is a foul prick, calling the rightful heir a kin-slayer when-“ he started before she forced her finger onto his lips to silence his rambling.

“Please, shut up about our families.”

He took her hips into his grasp and turned them over to where he was on top and she was below him, “you’re lucky I love you.” He smiled as she giggled at his words.

He sealed his confession with a kiss, the lovers worried of no one, miles away from their homes and under the roof of an abandoned stable, in the comfort of the night sky.

[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 :)

[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.

[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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[justagirlwholikesadam]

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING : RATED M, Smut, and Death

A/N: This will be my first GOT fanfic, I will being going along with the plot on the show with my own twist. I haven’t read the books so if I get something wrong or the plots are all over the place. Let it be. My story my rules. Please note comments are welcome. Enjoy! -L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

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Chapter One

Jon stood by the door as he watched the most feared and best fighter in the seven kingdoms worried at your bedside.

He was lost for words when he saw his sister, Y/n laid on a wagon being pulled by Sandor on his horse. The band of brotherhood stood behind them. A couple of wildings had found them around the perimeter and were about to hold them in a cell when Sandor told them about you.

“We have Y/n Stark of Winterfell. Where the fuck is her brother?” He hissed at the men then pointed at your body on the wagon. They were allowed to enter.

Jon thought you were dead after Sansa told him that you left King’s Landing with the hound during the battle of Blackwater. Jon was cautious of the hound. He heard the stories of Sandor and his brother. Sandor told Jon how you became ill during the trip to Castle Rock. You had a horrible fever during the journey. You became more ill and passed out.

Jon watched as the maester looked over at you with Sandor standing in the corner watching. Jon looked over at Beric and Thoros who stood behind the door frame of the room. Jon sensed they had come to care for you very much. He still felt unsure, you were Jon’s older sister. His favorite, he would tell everyone. You had been there for Jon since he was a young child. Catelyn had hated him for being a bastard while you had nothing but love for him.

Jon walked outside the room to know more about the situation. He asked Beric and Thoros about Sandor and you. Beric told Jon how they met both of you. They tried to convict Sandor for his crimes along with his brother's.

“Y/n told us everything as she begged us not to fight Sandor.” Beric said.

“They had escaped from King’s Landing after the Battle of Blackwater. She even had asked us for any news on Sansa or you. Sansa didn’t want to join her.” Jon nodded, they were telling the truth. Sansa had come to Castle Black as well after she escaped from Ramsey.

“Your other sister was there too, Arya.” Thoros mentioned Jon.

“What happened? Why isn’t she with you?” Jon asked, looking at the men.

Thoros shook his head and sigh. “Girl was mad at her because Y/n refused to leave Sandor behind. Told Y/n to fuck off because she was with the man that killed her friend.”

“Arya ran away. Sandor and Y/n tried to look for her but it was no use. Little girl is quick. Afterwards they left too. We found them again after the murder of septon Ray.” Beric told Jon how they got Sandor and you to join them and travel up here.

“Why is he so attached to her?” Jon asked but no one spoke. He looked over at Beric, who looked away from his gaze. Thoros did not speak as well and it made Jon very angry, all the horrible possibilities ran through his mind of you being alone with him. He’s the brother of the mountain, the murder and the rapist.

Jon was quick to unleash his sword as he turned into the room. Sandor was watching you as the maester checked your pulse when Jon walked inside the room and pushed Sandor against the wall with the tip of his sword digging into his neck.

“Jon!” Beric yelled as he walked inside.

“It’s not what you think.” Beric told Jon before looking away from Sandor’s harsh stare.

“What are you to my sister?” Jon screamed as his eyes narrowed. Sandor didn't say anything but stare at Jon.

Sandor didn't know what to say. How can he tell Jon that he’s in love with you? He didn't want to fall in love with you at first, the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark but he did.

“Well?” Jon shouted as Ser Davos entered the room when he heard the commotion from outside. The older man went up to Jon and spoke to him trying to get him to calm down.

“Jon, this isn’t the time or place. Your sister is what matters” Ser Davos said, looking between Sandor and Jon.

“Jon, please.” Ser Davos pleaded.

“If you want to kill me do it then, bastard. Kill me and when Y/n wakes up tell her what you did.” Sandor said. He knew his words worked when he saw Jon's eyes soften when he mention you.

“Take him to the cell.” Jon said, removing his sword from Sandor’s neck then walked away from him. Jon stood by your bedside as the frighten maester kept looking at you.

Ser Davos signaled Sandor to the door. Beric and Thoros watched as Sandor took one last look at you and walked away following Ser Davos.

Sandor doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the ceiling of the cell while he laid on the cold bench. He tugged on the thin blanket around his body, he felt horrible and tired. He needed a warm bath and a bed. He needed you. Months traveling with you and sleeping next you had him missing your company and your warmth. He was missing you. Sandor was about to drift into sleep when he heard someone walking towards his cell.

“Are you ready to tell me?” Sandor looked over at the sound of Jon’s voice.

Jon stood in front of the door looking at Sandor through the metal bars. Sandor rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up to sit. He spread his legs as he leaned back against the wall.

“You're not the same as before, bastard.” Sandor admitted as he stared at Jon. Remembering the naïve look on Jon’s face when he visited Winterfell with King Robert. Now, Jon stood in front of him as a man. He can tell Jon had done and seen some shit that can change a person.

“Have you changed?” Jon asked. Sandor did not respond.

“I can just send you back to King’s Landing. I know Cersei would like that.” Jon said, making Sandor nod knowing all too well the bounty on his head.

“Beric said you’re close to Y/n. Do you care for her?” Sandor looked away from Jon cursing silently at the one eyed man for telling his business.

Sandor looked back at the sound of keys. Jon opened the door and walked inside, sitting down on the bench across from Sandor who had a surprised look on his face.

“I thought she was dead after the news of my brother and father. I wept for her.” Jon said, looking down at his hands on his lap.

“She wept for you too.” Sandor added. “She missed you especially during her stay at King’s Landing. She prayed for you.”

Jon let out a sad smile. “She told me you were close with her. Closer than anyone.”

Jon nodded, “Aye, we were. She never treated me or called me a bastard. Always treated me like her brother. Sansa and their mother would fight over that.” Jon stood quiet for a moment as he looked over at Sandor.

“Thoros said you had protected her in King’s Landing. That's what Y/n told him. You protected Sansa and her.”

‘Bald cunt yapping his mouth.” Sandor mumbled.

“That bald cunt saved your life.” Jon answered back.

Sandor frowned at Jon. “I wanted to execute you but he was the first to vouch for your name. They all did, the brotherhood without banners.”

Sandor couldn't believe they had vouch for him. All he did was shouted and called them names but of course, you were always there to calm him down and ease the tension. Sandor knew he had to tell Jon the truth. He had too because he needed to get back to you. He wasn't going to leave you alone not after everything both of you have been through.

“She started to talk to me after your father and sisters arrived at King's Landing.” Sandor said and shook his head with a small smile.

“Couldn't get the girl to shut up or quit following me. She kept telling me people there were all snakes. She didn't trust no one.”

“She trusted you.” Jon said. Sandor couldn't stop thinking about you in King’s Landing. He could remember you crying over Sansa after she was humiliated in court, when the news of Robb and your mother's death arrived. He frowns at the memory of Joffrey slapping you as he showed you and Sansa your father’s head on a stick.

“I wish I could have protected her more.” Sandor blurted out. “Joffrey had it out for her when your father died. He hated Sansa more since she was weaker.”

‘What did he do to Y/n?” Jon asked as he felt the uneasiness coursing through his body.

Sandor took a deep breath before answering. “He hit her around, he showed her the head of her father on a stick. He threatened to have her raped.”

“Did he ever…” Sandor shook his head at Jon’s question. Rage filled Sandor at the though of it.

“Fuck no. I would have murder everyone who tried to touch the woman I love."

Jon’s eyes widened in surprise at Sandor's answer. He couldn’t believe it.

“You love her?” Jon watched Sandor who looked down at the ground as his cheeks turned pink from the sudden outburst.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sandor spoke. “A dog like me with someone like her. I have told her many times. I’m not good for her, I told her my kind don’t get to have a woman like her.”

“Your kind?” Jon asked as rising a brow at Sandor.

Sandor looked at Jon with a look and pointed at himself. “A killer, a hideous monster. Fucking got nothing to offer her.”

“It’s funny.” Jon said with a smile. Sandor was about to curse Jon out when Jon spoke out.

“Father wanted Y/n to get married for so long and she kept refusing. She practically went down on her knees, and begged him not to marry her off. She never liked any man that father brought home. She would tell me how she doesn’t trust them and she would rather be dead than be with any man she didn’t trust.”

“If my sister trusted you. It meant she liked you. You even offered her protection.” Jon said as he rose up. Sandor looked up at him as Jon walked closer to him.

“You offered her something that many women wished they had. Do you love her?” Sandor nodded at Jon.

“Can I trust you that my sister would be well and happy with you?” Sandor quickly rose and nodded.

“Aye, I don't know why she loves me but she does and I finally have the balls to admit it now. I couldn’t before but now seeing her all laid up and not moving. I regret not saying it sooner.”

Jon smiled at him for a second. “Alright.” He said as he began to walk to the door of the cell. He looked over his shoulder at Sandor.

“You can see her if you want. The maester went to check up on her again.” Sandor followed him but froze when Jon pointed a finger at him.

“You hurt my sister, Clegane. I’ll kill you.” Sandor let out a chuckle at Jon’s threat and followed him.

-After escaping King’s Landing -

If someone had told Sandor that he would be with a lady in the future. He would have laughed and cursed them out. Sandor sleeping with someone with a name would have been the last thing he would have done.

However there you were laying next to him. You’re on your back in a deep sleep. Hair tousled, bite marks on your neck and chest were red on your skin. He felt like a creep watching you sleep. Your chest softly rose up and down with each breath you took.

Your nipples were hard from the chill air in the room. Your lips were slightly parted, Sandor couldn't help but raise one of his hands up to your face, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. Same lips that were around his cock not so long, same lips that kissed him. Sandor was the first to be up since he was a light sleeper. Both of you were finally able to rest well for the first time in a long time since Sandor and you fled from King’s Landing. It’s been a few weeks since Sandor finally found a friendly Inn. No one knew who both of you were. He could finally fuck you in a bed instead against a tree or on the ground.

He couldn’t help but remember last night's events with you as he stared at your sleeping body.

You, Y/n Stark from Winterfell, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Catelyn Stark had confessed your love for him. He wanted to say it back, but he couldn’t. He was scared. Scared that it wouldn’t be true. When he didn’t say it back, you kissed him and told him that he didn’t have to say it back. You told him the day you arrived at King's Landing and officially met him was the day he plagued your mind in a good way.

When everything went to shit, your father was killed. Sansa and you were tormented by the king. You tried to endure the tournaments from Joffrey so Sansa didn't have too but Joffrey didn't like it one bit. You wouldn't crack down and cry in front of him like Sansa did. You held your head high as he had his men beat you down. If it wasn't for Sandor who brought Tyrion Lannister to your aid, who knows what would have happened. As the maester tended your wounds Sandor was in the corner of your chambers along with Tyrion who was giving you his deepest apologies. It fell to deaf ears though, Tyrion knew that when saw you looking at Sandor. He looked over at the bulking man to see him looking back at you as well.

During the Battle of the Blackwater, Sandor came back inside the castle mid war and looked for you. You were with Sansa in her room when he found you. He begged for you to come with him. Sandor vowed to return you and Sansa back home. You trusted Sandor but Sansa didn't. She was afraid of him and had said that Stannis wouldn’t hurt her. Sansa hugged you when you were contemplating on whether you should stay or go but Sansa had seen how Sandor looked at you. She saw how you were with Sandor. You weren't afraid of him and as much as she wanted you to stay with her. She knew Joffrey would have kept bullying you into an early grave. She gave you one last hug and held you tight. She kissed your cheek and told you to leave right away.

Sandor held on to you as you rode in front of him. The journey for the first couple of days was the hardest but both of you managed. You were the first to kiss Sandor. He took you on the ground that night between the trees. He had gotten a cloak from the knight he killed the day before. He laid it on the ground and you gave yourself to him.

Sandor was lost in thought as he stared at you.

“I can feel you staring.” You mumbled in a sleepy tone as you shifted on bed.

You opened your eyes and smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?” You asked Sandor as you brushed his hair out of his face.

“Aye.” Sandor said, kissing the palm of your hand.

“But It's a bit hard when you're there looking like that.” Sandor told you as you stretched your arms over your head, arching your back.

“Looking well, I hope.” You said as you let out a yawn. You hummed when you felt his large callous hand on your stomach. The tips of his fingers caressing your skin. You feel his hand go down between your legs.

“Sandor.” You moaned as he leaned down to kiss you while he rubbed your clit. He grunt in your mouth as he felt your slit wet. He dipped two fingers inside of your cunt, he can feel his cum from last night still inside.

“Such a tight wet cunt.” He said as he pulled away to kiss your neck. You laughed as his beard tickled you. You held on his arms as he fingered you softly. He knew you were sensitive from the night before.

His thick fingers were soaking wet as he fingered you. The sound of your sopping pussy echoed through the room. You spread your legs wider for him.

“Such a dirty girl.” He said as he pulled his lips from your neck. You blushed hard from his words.

The bed creaked as Sandor moved between your legs. You looked up at him as you spread your legs for him. Sandor watched as your mouth dropped when he slipped inside of you. He leaned down to kiss you as he started to thrust inside of you. He moans in your mouth when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulder, tugging him down and closer to you. You felt him moan your name against your neck as he fucked you hard.

“Fuc-ck.” You moan as you hear him groan, he held you tight as he continued to fucked you. You felt his balls slap your ass as he fucked you.

“Cum in me, Sandor. Please. Please.” You whispered in his ear. Sandor turned his face to look at you.

“Please. Inside.” He groans as he grabs your face to kiss you. You slip your tongue inside his mouth as you come on his cock, tighten your walls around him.

He wasn’t far from his climax. Sandor looked down at your pretty face and he came. He let out a curse as he felt you cumming deep inside of you. Sandor was on cloud nine when he came. He didn’t notice you cupping his face pulling him for another kiss.

“Little wolf, you’re gonna kill this old man.” Sandor whispered against your lips making you smile.

“What a way to die.” You told him softly looking at him moving his hair out of his face. Sandor chuckled at your words. He was about to get up when you pulled him closer to you.

“Not yet. Please. Stay inside of me longer.” You asked him. He obeyed, just like every time you ask him to stay longer inside of you. He lays his head on your chest. His scared cheek against your chest. He shuts his eyes, enjoying your hands on his back.

He calms down while he hears your heartbeat. He liked this feeling you gave him.

“I love you.” Sandor opens his eyes but doesn’t move. He felt you kiss the top of his head.

“I know I said it last night but I meant it. I love you. I’m yours and you're mine but if you don’t accept my love then leave. Leave me here and go away.”

Sandor doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to move. No matter how many times he told you that he’s not good enough for you. You didn’t believe him. You kept being with him and sleeping with him. You kept making him feel warm inside.

You made him feel loved. Sandor was never religious, but he believed that the new and the old gods blessed him by giving you to him. He knew it was true since you didn’t leave him when the Brotherhood without Banner captured him and you. Arya was there with them. Arya was furious when she saw him with you. Arya told you that Sandor killed her friend, the butcher’s son. Beric wanted to charge him of his brother's crimes but couldn’t. You were there to ease the tension and cried out, telling them that Sandor isn’t like his brother.

Sandor was charged for the murder of the butcher boy. You saw the face Sandor had when Beric’s sword lit up in flames. You knew he was afraid of fire, since Little Finger told you and Sansa. At the end, Sandor won the duel to the death, slicing Beric’s shoulder almost in half causing him to die.

You held Arya as she cried and screamed when Sandor won. Arya and you froze when the drunk priest, Thoros, brought Beric back from the dead. Sandor saw how you begged Arya to join you and Sandor.

“You’re going to get kidnapped or worse. Stop being a fucking idiot.” Sandor had yelled at Arya.

“I hope you die.” She yelled at Sandor. She was about to run away when she looked back at you with an angry face. “You too.”

Arya ran away from you with no luck finding her Sandor and you decided to keep going on the road. During the war of the Five Kings, you heard Theon Greyjoy turned on the Starks and seized the undefended Winterfell since Robb wasn’t there. You wanted to hurt him, your father took him in and now your home is gone along with both of your younger brothers. Weeks later people were talking about the Frey’s wedding and that Robb and your mother would be at the Twins.

Sandor held you close and wouldn’t let you go when both of you made it to the Twins. He looked around frantically as all the Stark’s soldiers were being killed in front of him and the sight that horrified him the most caused you to scream. He held you that night as you wailed. You remained silent for a few days and it scared him so much.

“Look at me.” He told you when you finally spoke.

“I’m not gonna not let anything happen to you. Okay?” You nodded at him.

“I swear it.” He promised as you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him.

So, he wasn’t going to move and leave you but fuck, he was so scared to say it back to you that he loves you too because he thought if he said it back that he would wake up and all of this would have just been a dream.

It was evening when both of you woke up again. Sandor had gotten up and dressed. He kissed your forehead and told you that he would ask the keeper for a tub to get you a bath. Neither of you didn’t spoke about what happened. Both of you didn’t have too, it was mutual understanding. You were his and he was yours. After taking a bath, Sandor walked with you to the tavern to get supper.

He was nervous as he ate his food. He didn’t know what to do next. Sliver was running low and he didn't know where else to go.

“Sandor.” You called out, he looked at you and nodded.

“We should go to my Aunt Lysa. We can go to the Vale, she'll accept me there. I’ll tell her how you saved me and how I need you to guard me while I’m there.” You told him. Sandor had to admit it was a pretty good idea but.

“She will know who I am. Knowing that cunt of the king, he probably has a bounty on me.”

You shook your head. “I’ll beg her if I have too. Lysa is the only best chance we have.” You told him while grabbing his hand.

Sandor agreed, you were right. “Alright little wolf, eat up. Tomorrow morning we’ll ride.”

You gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. You got back to your plate as he took a gulp of his ale. Little wolf, was something he started calling you in King’s Landing. He called your sister, Sansa, little bird. You missed her so much, you didn’t always see eye to eye with Sansa but you took the role of the older sister seriously when your father died. You held her as she slept and helped her whenever Joffrey tormented her.

Morning came and both of you were out on the road. You were grateful that Sandor knew where he was going. He pointed at certain mountains and rivers telling you the details and how to know where to go. At one point you felt incompetent with him, you didn’t know how to hunt or make a fire. After making a fuss about it and telling him you should learn something. He told you a lady shouldn’t know how to gut an animal or know how to start a fire but he agreed.

He laughed at you when you threw up as he showed you how to clean a kill. He snickered when you cursed at the pile of woods and moss when you couldn’t light it up. It was a few days when Sandor and you finally made it to a stream under a bridge. You sat by the rocks across from him. Sandor stood next to Stranger as the horse greedily drank from the stream.

Sandor was about to speak when he heard someone riding on the bridge. An older man along with his daughter rode on a small wagon.

You gave Sandor a look when he answered them sarcastically and with an attitude.

“Forgive my husband. We’ve been traveling for so long. We are just letting our horse rest for a bit.” Sandor looks over at you when you call him your husband. You didn’t notice the blush on his face. You gave a smile to the farmer and his daughter.

“Your husband is a soldier?” The farmer asked, looking wearily at Sandor. The farmer saw the armor and the sword strapped on Sandor’s hip.

“Yes, he fought for House Tully.” You answer quickly before any profanity came out of Sandor’s mouth.

You gave Sandor a toothy smile when the farmer told you to follow him since any man who pleaded for House Tully is welcome. He will provide a roof for the night and some food. Sandor watched as you talked to the young daughter, Sally. The little blonde girl was a shy thing but smiled at the idea of you helping her cook.

“Any kids?” The farmer asked as he watched his daughter laugh at the small joke you told her.

You looked over at Sandor not sure what to say. “No, not yet but if we do. We hope it’s a girl who looks beautiful like you.” You said looking at the little girl who giggle at your compliment.

Dinner was quiet for a bit after Sandor cursed at the man who was praying for so long. You begged for forgiveness at the farmer and told him to finish as you gave Sandor a cold glare. When he was done you served him and his daughter first. You wanted to curse at the farmer as well for praying so long. You were fucking starving but you knew you had to act nice. You weren’t going to get kicked out until you had some of the rabbit stew you helped the little girl cook.

Trying to ignore the slurping sound that Sandor made as he drank the soup straight from the bowl. The farmer asked Sandor about the fight at the Twins and mentioned how people were calling it The Red Wedding. You instantly felt ill to your stomach. You couldn’t forget the image of your headless brother with the head of his wolf sewn onto. It made you scream when you first saw it and made you mute for a couple of days.

“Are you ok?” You looked up from your stew when you heard Sally, the little girl speak.

You felt Sandor’s warm hand on your knee under the table as you looked over at her. It was his way to comfort you, a way to show you that he's here with you and he won’t let anyone hurt you as he promised. You placed a hand over his, giving him a squeeze.

“Yes, sweet girl. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You told her, taking all the strength in your body to give her a smile.

That night the farmer let Sandor and you to the stable to rest. “You can cry if you want.” Sandor said as both of you laid. He had taken off his chest plate and was under a bunch of hay and a blanket.

You nodded at his chest as you felt tears rolling down your face. Sandor rubbed your back as he let you cry. You cried for your brother Jon and your family. Sandor didn’t make you feel bad for crying. He knew you loved your family, it was something he never experienced. Sandor tried his best to remember the last time he cried. He couldn’t remember, whenever he was feeling sad he drank his feelings away.

You finally calm down at the sound of the rain and Sandor’s heartbeat. His body heat warmed you as the night got chilly.

“Are you going to work for him?” You asked Sandor remembering how the farmer asked him if he wanted to work for fair wages.

“Not sure yet.” Sandor told you.

It was morning when you heard screaming. You woke up and looked around the stable. You quickly got up and saw Sandor wasn’t there with you but Stranger was. You grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around you as you ran out of the stable to the small cottage. You stopped when you saw Sandor coming out of the cottage with a pouch in his hands. He didn’t realize you were there until he finished counting the coins. Sandor stopped in mid step when he saw you.

“What did you do?” You asked him.

“We needed the silver.” Sandor told you. You shook your head.

“Not like this. It’s not right.” You snapped at him.

“We can stay here for a little while. We will help around the farm.” You tried to reason with Sandor. You knew both of you needed the sliver to make it to the Vale but taking it away from a father and his daughter in these times was not right.

“For fuck sake Y/n.” Sandor cursed loudly causing you to jump. It’s the first time he has yelled at you.

“He’s weak. He can't protect himself or her. He and his daughter will be dead come winter.”

“He fed us. He took us in. He didn’t have too. He’s a good man. We can’t do this.” You told him while following him when he started to walk towards the stable.

“Dead men do not need silver.” Sandor shouted and you felt like crying. You grabbed him by his arm. Sandor looked at you angrily.

“I thought with everything you been through that you fucking knew how the world works. How many Stark’s they have to behead before you figure it out?” He tells you. You let out a gasp at his harsh words.

Sandor had admitted what he said was a shit thing to say. He was upset and the look on your face when he mentioned your family killed him. He was going to walk away when you grabbed his arm again.

“I’m not the same stupid girl you met in King's Landing.” You told him as you walked in front of him.

“I know how things work in this world, it was beaten in me. Don’t you remember?” You grabbed his hands with yours feeling the pouch of silver.

“With all the beatings I had to endure and all my family members dying one by one. I refuse to do this.” You told firmly, standing your ground in front of Sandor.

“Just because the world is shit doesn’t mean we have to be like it. I know we need it, my love.” Sandor saw your eyes filled with tears. His chest tightens at the nickname you gave him.

“But they need it more. They don’t have someone to protect them like I do. They don’t have the experience of surviving like us. Please, if you can’t give them the silver back then do it for me.”

Sandor stared at you for a minute then nodded. He'll do it for you. You let go of his hands, he was about to walk back to the cottage when he looked over his shoulder with regret in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” Sandor said to you then walked back to the house.

You quickly walked back to the stable, grabbing the reins on Stranger. You petted the horse softly as you led him out of the stable. The horse obeyed, you smiled as the horse was finally getting used to you. You knew there was no way in the seven hells that the farmer was going to let you and Sandor stay after what he did so you started to get Stranger ready to ride. You kept petting him with a smile.

Sandor told you before escaping Kings Landing that Stranger wasn’t fond of people but you knew with some love and patience that the horse would be fine around you. You laughed to yourself as Stranger reminded you a lot of Sandor. You saw Sandor walking back from the cottage. It was quiet as both of you continued the journey to Vale.

Sandor didn’t mention the farmer and the daughter. He went inside the cottage to see the daughter crying over her father as he lay knocked out on the ground. The girl let out a sob when she saw Sandor walk inside.

“Hush girl.” Sandor snapped at her before dropping the pouch of silver on the table.

“Sorry.” Sandor mumbled before leaving the cottage and shutting the door behind him.

You had officially thought you were cursed. You had to be cursed with everything going on. Aunt fucking Lysa was dead. Sandor watched as you took a deep breath and walked away. He froze and the rest of the knights of Vale. When you cursed fuck and shit at the sky and began to kick at the small rocks on the ground.

“Can’t catch a fucking a break.” You mutter to yourself. You were tired, hungry and your ass was sore from riding. You smelled like sweat and your hair was starting to get greasy.

You made it back to the horse with Sandor following behind you.

You stood by Stranger with your hands on your hips as you looked over at the mountains. You didn’t know what to do now. You turned around to see Sandor who had a tired look.

“You think the gods are punishing me?” You asked Sandor as you remembered something that occurred with you aunt Lysa when you were younger.

“What for?” Sandor asked.

“I did something bad when I was younger to Lysa. She had a dog. Ugly little shit and kept yapping at me. It never liked me.” Sandor chuckled at your story fully interested in what you had to say.

“She told me to take it for a walk around the bloody gates. It wanted to kill me, Sandor.” You said with a sigh.

“I ran and ran. Little shit followed me, chasing me around until I tripped on a rock before the little shit could stop. It ran off a cliff.” Sandor laughed at the face you made.

“You think the gods are punishing you for killing that devil dog?” Sandor asked, walking towards you. His hands gripping your hips as you lean against him.

“If what you say it’s true. Then you did the world a favor for killing that little devil.” You sense the sarcasm in his words and roll your eyes. You laid your forehead against his chest with a sigh.

Sandor needed a bath as well. He smelled like sweat, the dirt and the trees. It reminded you of your father whenever he came back from hunting. You remembered your mother yelling at you when you jumped in your father's arms whenever he came back. He would laugh and tell you that he would get your dress dirty but you didn’t care. The smell of nature made you feel at ease.

“What now?” You asked.

“What about your brother Jon?” You looked up at Sandor. “Castle Rock?” He nodded.

You knew women weren't allowed in Castle Rock, you never mentioned it before but Jon is your last resort.

“I won’t let them hurt you there.” Sandor was quick to say knowing what was held in Castle Rock. Murders, robbers, and rapists.

“I know.” You said with a nod. You were so grateful to have Sandor with you.

“I take back what I said about the gods punishing me.” You told him, making him raise his brow up at you.

“They gifted me you, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor shut his eyes as you hugged him. He wanted to make fun of you for thinking that the gods gifted you a man like him. A man who was a killer but he didn’t say anything. He kept hugging you for a while.

It was just a few days after the Vale, Sandor and you were setting up camp. Sandor was pissing behind a large boulder as you washed his knives. Sandor had hunted a rabbit, you were excited since it was going to be your first time skinning it alone. He mentioned that he should start hunting for more since both of you were going to travel up north. The weather was going to get colder and that meant less animal to hunt.

You finished washing when you heard someone riding by.

“Sandor!” You shouted as you saw two people on horses making their way to you.

You shouted his name again as a tall blonde woman got off her horse and walked towards you with a shorter man behind her.

“Seven blessings.” She greeted you with a smile. You heard Sandor coming behind you.

“I’m Brienne of Tarth and this is Podrick Payne. We are looking for the bloody gates.”

The man behind her dropped his own smile and said “That’s Sandor Clegane. The hound.”

The woman frowned and looked at him then at you. Her eyes widened when she saw you clasp your hands together in front of you as your mother has done before when she was with her.

“You’re Y/n Stark. The rumors are true then.” You frowned.

“What do you want?” Sandor said, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“The hound ran away from the fight in King’s Landing and kidnapped Y/n.” Her eyes landed on the love bite on your neck as she spoke.

“I swore to your mother that I will bring you home. I swore to bring all your sisters back home. I swore to protect her as well.”

“You didn’t though? My mother is dead.” You snapped her as Sandor looked at Brienne, up and down. His eyes stopped at her sword.

“Are you paid by the Lannister? Are you here for the bounty on me?” Sandor asked. You quickly grabbed one of his knives that you washed on the ground and held it.

You weren’t going to let them take Sandor away from you.

“I’m not paid by the Lannister.”

Sandor scoffed as he walked towards her. “No? Bullshit. I know what Lannister gold looks like. I've seen it all my life. Tell me where did you get that sword?”

“Jamie Lannister gave it to me.” Brienne answered him, Sandor looked over his shoulder at you. He was right.

“The bloody gate is 30 miles. Be on your way now.” You told her.

“Y/n! I swore to you mother to the old and to the new gods that I'll keep you safe and away from harm.” You shook your head at her.

“I’m not going with you.” You yelled.

“You fucking heard her. She is not coming with you.”

“She is.” Brienne hissed at him. Both of them took their swords out. You looked over at Podrick who was ready to run after you.

“Valyrian steel.” Sandor said, looking at her sword then up at Brienne. “I always wanted some.”

“Come with me Y/n. I will keep you safe. Tell me if this man forces himself on you and I’ll kill him. I’ll take you to safety.” Brienne said, looking between you and Sandor.

“Safety! Brienne of fucking Tarth, you really are a dumb bitch. Where the fuck safety at? Her entire family is dead, Winterfell is gone. There is no safety. If you don’t know that then you’re the wrong person to watch over her.” Sandor yelled.

Brienne scoffed then looked at you over his shoulder. Brienne knew you had to be so afraid of the hound that you wouldn’t even ask for help.

“Is that what you’re doing? Watching over her or using her for your pleasure? You fucking dog.” Brienne fumed, looking back at him with disgust.

“I’m fucking watching over her.” Sandor answered, ignoring the fact that Brienne was stating that Sandor has been forcing himself on you. It wasn’t true. Sandor wasn’t like that.

Sandor wasn’t going to let her take you away from him. Brienne was the first to swing, Sandor blocked her and yelled over his shoulder for you to run away and hide.

You did what you were told. Podrick quickly followed you. You kept running as you heard Podrick call for you. You heard the grunts and sound of swords clanging against each other. behind you. You hid behind a tree, you held the knife in your hand as you heard Podrick pass by you. You waited for the coast to be clear and ran back to the campsite.

You waited for Sandor to come back after a few minutes the sun was about to set and he still wasn’t around. You felt dread fill you as you began to walk around the cliffs in hope of finding him, you stopped when you saw Sandor’s sword on the ground. You lifted the heavy weapon and saw blood on the grass. You carefully walked by the edge of the cliff and looked down.

You were about to cry when you saw Sandor at the bottom of the cliff. You dragged the sword back to camp and quickly began to pack up.

“Come on.” You told Stranger as you got up and rode down the hills where Sandor was at. You got off and ran to Sandor, he hasn’t moved.

“Sandor!” You shouted dropping down to your knees at him. Sandor sighed as he opened his eyes to see you crying over him

“What do I do?” You cried out as you ripped the hem of your dress to wipe the blood off his face.

“Leave.” Sandor hissed as he tried to push you away from him.

“No.” You shouted with tears running down your face. “I have to get you help.”

“I’m going to die! I’m going to die because of that tall bitch. You need to leave me here. You need to go.” He croaked out in pain. He felt like crying because he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“Remember what I told you. Don’t stop for no one. Keep a weapon near you.” He listed the things for you to do to be safe. He was worry for you. The feeling was heavy on his chest, the thought of you alone traveling up north scared him and thought of never seeing you again pained him more then what he felt from his injuries.

“I’ll help you up. You ride while I walk.” You ignored what he said as you tried to pull him from his arms. Sandor hissed in pain.

“I can’t fucking move. My knee is fucked.” Sandor said as you looked down at his knee. You shut your eyes at the gruesome sight of his bone sticking out.

“Fuck! Sandor! Please tell me what to do?!” You sob looking away from his leg at him.

“Kill me.” Sandor whispered.

“No.” You shouted at him. You shook your head frantically.

“Y/n. I’m done for. It’s over.” He yelled at you as he looked up at the sky, tears rolling his face.

“Look at me.” You sternly said, you carefully leaned over cupping his face with your face.

“I'm not leaving you or killing you. You can’t leave me. I love you, Sandor.” You cried to him. Sandor let out a whimper as he started to black out from the pain. The last thing Sandor felt was your lips against his. 

Next Chapter ->

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

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.

[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.

[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

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon XIII (Chapter 69)

"Let them die," said Queen Selyse.

It was the answer that Jon Snow had expected. This queen never fails to disappoint. Somehow that did not soften the blow. "Your Grace," he persisted stubbornly, "they are starving at Hardhome by the thousands. Many are women—"

"—and children, yes. Very sad." The queen pulled her daughter closer to her and kissed her cheek. The cheek unmarred by greyscale, Jon did not fail to note. "We are sorry for the little ones, of course, but we must be sensible. We have no food for them, and they are too young to help the king my husband in his wars. Better that they be reborn into the light."

Discussion about dying children being reborn into the light interrupted by Shireen kisses.

+.+.+

Melisandre of Asshai stood closer to the fire, the ruby at her throat pulsing with every breath she took. The red woman too had her attendants—the squire Devan Seaworth and two of the guardsmen the king had left her.

I continue to find it extremely suspect that so much attention is being paid to Devan's proximity to Melisandre, while the author also constantly underscores how vulnerable she is.

Remember, it's Devan who is close to Shireen, not Davos. It's Devan who was saved from certain death. Why? Where are we going with that?

+.+.+

Up spoke Ser Malegorn. "Lord Snow, who will lead this ranging?"

"Are you offering yourself, ser?"

"Do I look so foolish?"

Patchface jumped up. "I will lead it!" His bells rang merrily. "We will march into the sea and out again. Under the waves we will ride seahorses, and mermaids will blow seashells to announce our coming, oh, oh, oh."

We will march into the sea and out again.

Death, and restoration to life. I think?

Under the waves we will ride seahorses, and mermaids will blow seashells to announce our coming, oh, oh, oh.

Remember the Merling King?

The Braavosi trading galley hired by Petyr Baelish, that carries him and Sansa to the Vale?

The eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. - Sansa V, ASOS

If it is the Merling King, that would not be the first time Sansa got the mermaid treatment.

Patchface rang his bells. "It is always summer under the sea," he intoned. "The merwives wear nennymoans in their hair and weave gowns of silver seaweed. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh." - Prologue, ACOK

+.+.+

Jon was less amused. "I will not ask my men to do what I would not do myself. I mean to lead the ranging."

This is honourable, but I'm going to say it's the wrong decision. You can't leave Castle Black days after thousands of wildlings crossed the Wall, and the tension is threatening to boil over.

+.+.+

"How bold of you," said the queen. "We approve. Afterward some bard will make a stirring song about you, no doubt, and we shall have a more prudent lord commander."

I went straight to asearchoficeandfire and investigated whether Jorah has ever been called prudent.

Nothing.

+.+.+

Ser Axell went through a door and returned a moment later with Gerrick Kingsblood. "Gerrick of House Redbeard," he announced, "King of the Wildlings."

Gerrick Kingsblood was a tall man, long of leg and broad of shoulder. The queen had dressed him in some of the king's old clothes, it appeared. Scrubbed and groomed, clad in green velvets and an ermine half-cape, with his long red hair freshly washed and his fiery beard shaped and trimmed, the wildling looked every inch a southron lord. He could walk into the throne room at King's Landing, and no one would blink an eye, Jon thought.

"Gerrick is the true and rightful king of the wildlings," the queen said, "descended in an unbroken male line from their great king Raymun Redbeard, whereas the usurper Mance Rayder was born of some common woman and fathered by one of your black brothers."

No, Jon might have said, Gerrick is descended from a younger brother of Raymun Redbeard. To the free folk that counted about as much as being descended from Raymun Redbeard's horse. They know nothing, Ygritte. And worse, they will not learn.

Hold up. Wait a second.

Did Val just lose her fancy title and crown? Is she no longer a princess?

Damn, Selyse stripped her of her entire identity.

+.+.+

"Gerrick has graciously agreed to give the hand of his eldest daughter to my beloved Axell, to be united by the Lord of Light in holy wedlock," Queen Selyse said. "His other girls shall wed at the same time—the second daughter with Ser Brus Buckler and the youngest with Ser Malegorn of Redpool."

"Sers." Jon inclined his head to the knights in question. "May you find happiness with your betrothed."

"Under the sea, men marry fishes." Patchface did a little dance step, jingling his bells. "They do, they do, they do."

+.+.+

Queen Selyse sniffed again. "Four marriages can be made as simply as three. It is past time that this woman Val was settled, Lord Snow. I have decided that she shall wed my good and leal knight, Ser Patrek of King's Mountain."

"Has Val been told, Your Grace?" asked Jon. "Amongst the free folk, when a man desires a woman, he steals her, and thus proves his strength, his cunning, and his courage. The suitor risks a savage beating if he is caught by the woman's kin, and worse than that if she herself finds him unworthy."

I so desperately want this to be about Petyr Bael-ish. Could be, when is anything about Val ever actually about Val?

Everyone thank Jon for putting a bad idea in Ser Patrek's head.

+.+.+

Jon wondered if the queen would be so eager to see Val married to one of her own knights if she knew Val's feelings about Princess Shireen. 

Aww, is he saying that's disqualifying? Lol.

Big surprise Jon would never forget a conversation like that.

+.+.+

She [Melisandre] made her way down, the hem of her scarlet skirts swishing over the steps. It almost seemed as if she floated. "Where is your direwolf?"

"Asleep in my chambers. Her Grace does not allow Ghost in her presence. She claims he scares the princess. And so long as Borroq and his boar are about, I dare not let him loose." 

+.+.+

"Selyse has the right of this, Lord Snow. Let them die. You cannot save them. Your ships are lost—"

"Six remain. More than half the fleet."

"Your ships are lost. All of them. Not a man shall return. I have seen that in my fires."

Melisandre is always kinda right / kinda wrong, so we'll have to wait and see how this plays out.

+.+.+

"I have made mistakes, I have admitted as much, but—"

"A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady. Where is Stannis? What of Rattleshirt and his spearwives? Where is my sister?"

See? There is a sister in grey, there are daggers in the dark, and there is a promised princess born amidst salt and smoke. Kinda right / kinda wrong.

All we needed was Moqorro.

+.+.+

"All your questions shall be answered. Look to the skies, Lord Snow. And when you have your answers, send to me. Winter is almost upon us now. I am your only hope."

She botched this so badly, a raven will come, and he won't send for her. I cry.

+.+.+

"There is still much to decide. Spread the word. I want all the leading men in the Shieldhall when the evening watch begins. Tormund should be back by then. Where can I find Toregg?"

"With the little monster, like as not. He's taken a liking to one o' them milkmaids, I hear."

He has taken a liking to Val. Her sister was a queen, why not her? Tormund had once thought to make himself the King-Beyond-the-Wall, before Mance had bested him. Toregg the Tall might well be dreaming the same dream.

I don't want to rain all over the Val x Jon shipper parade (bwaha lies), but I have to point out that's the second time we've randomly paired Toregg and Val.

"Har!" laughed Tormund Giantsbane. "Don't bandy words with this one, Lord Snow, she's too clever for the likes o' you and me. Best steal her quick, before Toregg wakes up and takes her first."

[...]

But that bridge had been burned a long time ago, and Jon himself had thrown the torch. "Toregg is welcome to her," he announced. "I took a vow." - Jon XI, ADWD

Notice how much Jon doesn't care?

Remember how much Jon hated Joffrey before there was a reason to hate Joffrey? Yeah.

+.+.+

Outside the armory, Mully and the Flea stood shivering at guard. "Shouldn't you be inside, out of this wind?" Jon asked.

"That'd be sweet, m'lord," said Fulk the Flea, "but your wolf's in no mood for company today."

Mully agreed. "He tried to take a bite o' me, he did."

"Ghost?" Jon was shocked.

"Unless your lordship has some other white wolf, aye. I never seen him like this, m'lord. All wild-like, I mean."

He was not wrong, as Jon discovered for himself when he slipped inside the doors. The big white direwolf would not lie still. He paced from one end of the armory to the other, past the cold forge and back again. "Easy, Ghost," Jon called. "Down. Sit, Ghost. Down." Yet when he made to touch him, the wolf bristled and bared his teeth. It's that bloody boar. Even in here, Ghost can smell his stink.

+.+.+

But no sooner had Jon finished than the Lord Steward said, "Her Grace is wise. Let them die."

Jon sat back. "Is that the only counsel you can offer, my lord? Tormund is bringing eighty men. How many should we send? Shall we call upon the giants? The spearwives at Long Barrow? If we have women with us, it may put Mother Mole's people at ease."

"Send women, then. Send giants. Send suckling babes. Is that what my lord wishes to hear?" Bowen Marsh rubbed at the scar he had won at the Bridge of Skulls. "Send them all. The more we lose, the fewer mouths we'll have to feed."

I'm begging you to tell this man about the loan. He's beyond terrified over the lack of food, he won't shut up about it, please tell the man there's money to buy food. Historically people do violent things when there's no food, Jon.

+.+.+

Satin helped them back into their cloaks. As they walked through the armory, Ghost sniffed at them, his tail upraised and bristling. My brothers. 

Jon, your wolf is talking.

+.+.+

"How many men do we have in ice cells?" he asked Bowen Marsh.

"Four living men. Two dead ones."

The corpses. Jon had almost forgotten them. He had hoped to learn something from the bodies they'd brought back from the weirwood grove, but the dead men had stubbornly remained dead. "We need to dig those cells out."

[...]

"What would the lord commander like us to do with his corpses?" asked Marsh when the living men had been moved.

"Leave them." If the storm entombed them, well and good. He would need to burn them eventually, no doubt, but for the nonce they were bound with iron chains inside their cells. That, and being dead, should suffice to hold them harmless.

Oh right, the dead corpses. Can't forget about the dead corpses. For some reason they seem important.

I hope this doesn't mean I won't get to read about Gendry running a sub-5 minute marathon in a blizzard.

+.+.+

Someone had already told the Thunderfist about Gerrick Kingsblood and his new style. "King o' the Wildlings?" Tormund roared. "Har! King o' My Hairy Butt Crack, more like."

"He has a regal look to him," Jon said.

"He has a little red cock to go with all that red hair, that's what he has. Raymund Redbeard and his sons died at Long Lake, thanks to your bloody Starks and the Drunken Giant. Not the little brother. Ever wonder why they called him the Red Raven?" Tormund's mouth split in a gap-toothed grin. "First to fly the battle, he was. 'Twas a song about it, after. The singer had to find a rhyme for craven, so …" He wiped his nose. "If your queen's knights want those girls o' his, they're welcome to them."

Is this hinting at someone else? I can't think of anyone other than the Hound.

+.+.+

Mully had not been wrong; the old steward was trembling, his face as pale as the snows outside. "I am being foolish, Lord Commander, but … this letter frightens me. See here?"

Bastard, was the only word written outside the scroll. No Lord Snow or Jon Snow or Lord Commander. Simply Bastard. And the letter was sealed with a smear of hard pink wax. "You were right to come at once," Jon said. You were right to be afraid. He cracked the seal, flattened the parchment, and read.

Welcome to Your Theory is Bad, and Here's Why.

Clydas thrust the parchment forward. It was tightly rolled and sealed, with a button of hard pink wax. Only the Dreadfort uses pink sealing wax. - Jon VI, ADWD

Only the Dreadfort uses pink wax. It is extremely unlikely Clydas wrote this letter and sealed it with pink wax he didn't have on hand.

+.+.+

Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.

Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.

I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.

I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.

It was signed,

Ramsay Bolton,

Trueborn Lord of Winterfell.

I see lies. If Ramsay had defeated Stannis (or Mors Umber), he'd know Jon doesn't have Theon.

Despite Ramsay having a notable hang-up about being called a bastard,

The dogs swarmed around them, snapping and snarling at the strangers. The Bastard's girls, Reek thought, before he remembered that one must never, never, never use that word in Ramsay's presence. - Reek II, ADWD

and signing this letter with Trueborn Lord of Winterfell, people still believe it's Mance who would excessively call Jon a bastard.

Your theory is bad.

Mance was left behind when Jeyne and Theon escaped (a castle that had no other exits), and was obviously apprehended given everything Ramsay knows. How would Mance be writing letters to Jon Snow? It will be a miracle if Mance has half his fingers left.

Your theory is bad.

Side note, kind of strange Rattleshirt-Mance was last seen in a cage without a cloak.

+.+.+

He handed Tormund Giantsbane the letter. "Here, see for yourself."

The wildling gave the letter a dubious look and handed it right back. "Feels nasty … but Tormund Thunderfist had better things to do than learn to make papers talk at him. They never have any good to say, now do they?"

Lots is made about the fact that Jon never mentions Ramsay's infamous spiky writing.

Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Hornwood, it read, in a huge, spiky hand. The brown ink came away in flakes when Jon brushed it with his thumb. - Jon VI, ADWD

Hello? It's implied. Tormund can't read, why would he think the letter feels nasty?

Jon knows Ramsay's handwriting, you don't think he's going to immediately question the handwriting if it doesn't match what he's seen before?

Your theory is bad.

+.+.+

Dark wings, dark words. Perhaps there was more truth to those wise old sayings than he'd known. "It was sent by Ramsay Snow. I'll read you what he wrote."

Jon started off this book referring to him as Ramsay Bolton.

"That will bring you to the Dreadfort," said Jon, "but unless your host can outmarch a raven or a line of beacon fires, the castle will know of your approach. It will be an easy thing for Ramsay Bolton to cut off your retreat and leave you far from the Wall, without food or refuge, surrounded by your foes." - Jon IV, ADWD

Now he exclusively uses Ramsay Snow.

+.+.+

When he was done, Tormund whistled. "Har. That's buggered, and no mistake. What was that about Mance? Has him in a cage, does he? How, when hundreds saw your red witch burn the man?"

That was Rattleshirt, Jon almost said. That was sorcery. A glamor, she called it. "Melisandre … look to the skies, she said." He set the letter down. "A raven in a storm. She saw this coming." When you have your answers, send to me.

He doesn't send for her. She would know if Stannis was dead. Ho hum.

+.+.+

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night's Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

How dare he call Bran a monkey.

What can I say about this that hasn't already been said? Should I point out the peculiar things Jon liked most about Ygritte?

And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well. - Jon II, ASOS

Should I mention Jon invented a version of Ygritte that never existed?

He could tell she did not believe him. If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us. - Jon V, ASOS

x

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

"Nothing, for a bee. For bed I want one o' these." Ygritte made to grab the front of his breeches. - Jon V, ASOS

x

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. - Jon VI, ASOS

x

When his eyelids fluttered open, he was wrapped in thick wool and floating. He could not seem to move, but that did not matter. For a time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. Finally he closed his eyes and slept. - Jon VI, ASOS

Should we simply laugh at all the other oddities?

Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know." - Jon V, ASOS

x

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" - Jon III, ASOS

x

"She even claimed we were kin. She told me a story . . ." - Jon VII, ACOK

Or maybe I'll make the argument that Ygritte is no winter rose, and Jon had no desire to steal her.

Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you."

"Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow." - Jon III, ASOS

We're still waiting on that.

+.+.+

"I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said.

They talked for the best part of two hours.

Horse and Rory had replaced Fulk and Mully at the armory door with the change of watch. "With me," Jon told them, when the time came. Ghost would have followed as well, but as the wolf came padding after them, Jon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and wrestled him back inside. Borroq might be amongst those gathering at the Shieldhall. The last thing he needed just now was his wolf savaging the skinchanger's boar.

+.+.+

When Jon and Tormund entered, a sound went through the hall, like wasps stirring in a nest. The wildlings outnumbered the crows by five to one, judging by how little black he saw. 

This is only inside the Shieldhall, but it's worth mentioning that when Jon is stabbed the wildlings badly outnumber the watchmen at Castle Black. Not clear whether Bowen Marsh has a plan for that.

+.+.+

"I summoned you to make plans for the relief of Hardhome," Jon Snow began. "Thousands of the free folk are gathered there, trapped and starving, and we have had reports of dead things in the wood." To his left he saw Marsh and Yarwyck. Othell was surrounded by his builders, whilst Bowen had Wick Whittlestick, Left Hand Lew, and Alf of Runnymudd beside him. 

We have confirmation on Bowen and Wick, I'm guessing Lew and Runnymudd are the other mutineers.

+.+.+

Borroq leaned against a wall in a dark corner. Mercifully, his boar was nowhere in evidence.

Then why is Ghost agitated? Jon?

+.+.+

Two of Queen Selyse's knights had come as well, Jon saw. Ser Narbert and Ser Benethon stood near the door at the foot of the hall. But the rest of the queen's men were conspicuous in their absence.

They're off stealing The Wildling Formerly Known as Princess.

+.+.+

A flash of red in the back of the hall caught Jon's eye. Lady Melisandre had arrived. 

Almost like she was expecting that raven.

+.+.+

"But now I find I cannot go to Hardhome. The ranging will be led by Tormund Giantsbane, known to you all. I have promised him as many men as he requires."

"And where will you be, crow?" Borroq thundered. "Hiding here in Castle Black with your white dog?"

"No. I ride south." Then Jon read them the letter Ramsay Snow had written.

The Shieldhall went mad.

Jon will be murdered before Tormund can leave, so if Melisandre is correct and everyone at Hardhome is doomed, it shouldn't include the Horn-blower.

+.+.+

"The Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms," Jon reminded them when some semblance of quiet had returned. "It is not for us to oppose the Bastard of Bolton, to avenge Stannis Baratheon, to defend his widow and his daughter. This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words … but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows.

"The Night's Watch will make for Hardhome. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless …" Jon paused. "… is there any man here who will come stand with me?"

The roar was all he could have hoped for, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Soren Shieldbreaker was on his feet, the Wanderer as well. Toregg the Tall, Brogg, Harle the Huntsman and Harle the Handsome both, Ygon Oldfather, Blind Doss, even the Great Walrus. I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard.

This is a hard one, because on one hand we love Jon the character for his big heart, love of family, and constant resistance to injustice, but on the other hand I don't think he should be doing this right now.

I don't view this in the same way I view Ned rebelling against a tyrannical monarchy, or refusing to serve Robert when he wants to commit cruel acts. This is personal vendetta.

Yes, there's the obvious parallel with Brandon Stark attempting to save and avenge Lyanna, but Ramsay has told Jon that Arya has escaped, and Jon is not remotely focused on that. There's no plan whatsoever with regards to finding Arya. Like, come on.

+.+.+

Yarwyck and Marsh were slipping out, he saw, and all their men behind them. It made no matter. He did not need them now. He did not want them. No man can ever say I made my brothers break their vows. If this is oathbreaking, the crime is mine and mine alone.

What's the punishment for oathbreaking, Jon?

+.+.+

Melisandre was gone, he realized, and so were the queen's knights. I should have gone to Selyse first. She has the right to know her lord is dead.

Honestly? Inexcusable. Imagine Catelyn and one of her children finding out Ned died because a bunch of soldiers were screaming about it in a dining hall somewhere.

Jon's a little too consumed with how this letter affects Jon, and what kills me is that if he went to Selyse first, Melisandre would have told him Stannis is not dead.

+.+.+

Horse and Rory fell in beside Jon as he left the Shieldhall. I should talk with Melisandre after I see the queen, he thought. If she could see a raven in a storm, she can find Ramsay Snow for me. 

Again.

It's a battle of the bastards!

+.+.+

Then he heard the shouting … and a roar so loud it seemed to shake the Wall. "That come from Hardin's Tower, m'lord," Horse reported. He might have said more, but the scream cut him off.

Val, was Jon's first thought. But that was no woman's scream. That is a man in mortal agony. He broke into a run. Horse and Rory raced after him. "Is it wights?" asked Rory. Jon wondered. Could his corpses have escaped their chains?

You mustn't forget the corpses, everyone.

+.+.+

The screaming had stopped by the time they came to Hardin's Tower, but Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun was still roaring. The giant was dangling a bloody corpse by one leg, the same way Arya used to dangle her doll when she was small, swinging it like a morningstar when menaced by vegetables. Arya never tore her dolls to pieces, though. The dead man's sword arm was yards away, the snow beneath it turning red.

Wait until you meet the new Arya.

"Just leave me be." She wouldn't, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. "Now he really looks like a soldier!" she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. - Arya XII, ASOS

+.+.+

He swung the dead knight against the grey stone of the tower, again and again and again, until the man's head was red and pulpy as a summer melon. The knight's cloak flapped in the cold air. Of white wool it had been, bordered in cloth-of-silver and patterned with blue stars. Blood and bone were flying everywhere.

Men poured from the surrounding keeps and towers. Northmen, free folk, queen's men … "Form a line," Jon Snow commanded them. "Keep them back. Everyone, but especially the queen's men." The dead man was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face. 

Rest in peace, Ser Patrek of Dallas Cowboy Mountain. Too bad that wildling wasn't worth it.

By the way, Preston Jacobs doesn't believe this guy is dead either. I'm not joking.

+.+.+

Oh no.

+.+.+

A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. "No blades!" he screamed. "Wick, put that knife …"

… away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why?"

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. 

+.+.+

Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

He began to flex his hand, opening and closing the fingers. If he let his sword hand stiffen and grow clumsy, it well might be the end of him, he knew. - Jon II, ACOK

+.+.+

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

+.+.+

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered.

The fighting will be done and someone will tell me whether I'm to live or die. "Lady," she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead. - Sansa VII, ACOK

x

"Jeyne?" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. "Mother," he said, "Grey Wind . . ." - Catelyn VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

<- The Dragontamer

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning.

Final thoughts:

Beware the Ides of March!

If there's a silver lining, while Jon is being stabbed to death with daggers in the dark, he recalls Arya's pointy end.

AGOT: Jon II -> Daenerys II

"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end." 

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. - Jon II, AGOT

AGOT: Arya II -> Daenerys III

"Arya, what did you think to do with this … Needle? Who did you hope to skewer? Your sister? Septa Mordane? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"

All she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. "Stick them with the pointy end," she blurted out. - Arya II, AGOT

Yeah Arya, who? Who did you hope to skewer?

Anyway, that sucked. Would not recommend. Bye Jon.

-> return to menu <-

[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!

[lolitastories]

BLACK AND BLOOD

Y/N L/N is the daughter of the Great Khal Drogo although she was raised by the king of the unknown lands. After finding out he died she travels and finds the one who caused his death. Along this adventure she meets the mother of dragons. Jon Snow. Night walkers. We will see if she really has the Dothraki blood flowing through her veins.

Chapter 10

In the middle of a practice session we were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Jon. Are you in there” His hands gripped my hips to keep me from moving. I grinned a little knowing he wanted to keep quiet. When his hands started getting loose I started moving again, this time faster.

“Shit” I pushed him back and gripped his hands so he couldn’t hold me back. I continue to bounce, making it difficult to not let out a moan.

“We have been looking for you all morning!” This time Davos decicide to start knocking on the door again, multiple times. I looked down as he had his eyes closed, biting his lips, close to cumming. “ We are all in the great hall, Jaime Lannister is here and he came alone” None of his words caught my ear. It was only the wimpers Jons lips made as I continued to ride him.

“Alright” I say still on top of him as we both reached our highs. I lean down, taking in his lips. But somehow I couldn’t stop myself. The pressure of riding him even after we both came was soothing.

“Princess you need to stop” my head went to the side of his kissing any skin I could find. My hands move to his hair gripping it while he grips my hip moving it at a slow rhythm.

“Mhmm” I continued kissing him. The knott in my stomach started again. “We do” I whisper in his ear but his hands don’t move. His hips continue to sound of our skin. I heard him grunt and in the next second he was cumming again. I wasn’t too far away from him eitheir.

“I should have waited with the rest” I laughed at the sound of Davos walking away. I remove myself from him hissing at the sensitive feeling. My legs were tingling and I couldn’t find the strength to get dressed.

“Here” I turn to Jon who has put on his pants already. He had my clothes in his hands. He helped me get dressed and any chance he got he kissed any exposed skin until I was fully dressed. “Alright. Let's go see what Lannister wants” He takes my hand but I pull him back shaking my head. I could feel a blush kicking in.

“I will meet you there” A grin appeared on his face. He came closer, placing a kiss on my forehead before walking out the door. After he left it took a couple tries to learn how to walk properly again. With every step I could feel my legs tingle and every other part was sensitive to the touch.

“Princess. The queen gave us orders” Greyworm finds me as I step out the castle gate. I look around seeing traps being set up around the walls. The Unsullied, Dothraki, and the Northerners working all around. Greyworm and I went around making sure everything was going smoothly. The trenches on the front of the gate have been dugged so we needed to continue placing in the wooden big pikes inside. Dragonstone shaped like thorns on a rose were placed on the pikes. As we worked the cold was no longer felt.

“Do we have all the pikes in?” Greyworm nods. “Send some people inside to continue helping.” He nods again. I made my way inside stopping once I saw the view. Never have I seen something like this. Men, women, and children lining up to get some food. Surrounding them were some more pikes in different locations. Soldiers perparing for war. Swords going left to right. Worry and frieght showing in the peoples faces. I reached over to Daenerys who was talking to the maester. He dismissed himself as I walked into the room.

“You weren’t at the great hall this morning” I shake my head sitting down across from her.

“Yes. Got lost” Which was half the truth. They should put signs on the closest exit in this place.

“I spoke to Sansa. Seems like we are on the same page, except for one particular part” My eyebrows lift in confusion. “Winterfell” Daenerys simplys states. “I know she wants the north to be independent, she wants to be queen and not have to bid the rules of the ruler of the seven kingdoms” she looked up to me.

“I don’t think she wants to be queen. She is taking the lead as a queen and will wear the crown but only for the north.”

“Sounds like she doesn’t trust me with the north, I came here to help her and her home yet she still doesn’t trust me enough to believe I am capable on ruling the seven kingdom in peace”

“I think she knows you’re very capable of ruling the seven kingdoms. Yet you have to understand this is here home. She learned from her father and from experience that some things are best to keep at a distance. If you want my opinion, she is a strong person and loyal, if you come to any agreement she will bid her soul to the last word.” Her eyes pierced into mine. I can tell she didn’t like my responses. She was probably waiting for me to tell her she was right. The is the true heir of the seven kingdoms and as such, that includes the north.

“Are the traps set up outside the gate?” I nod. “Good. Have the soldiers well rested and

fed, well, as much as possible” She walks up and I follow her out. I bowed my head leaving her up on the balcony looking down at the common area outside. I help outside as much as possible until Davos comes to me and announces a meeting in the great room. I walk in and see Daenerys, her advisors, Jon and the tall redhead wildling around the table.

“The dead are coming, and they are coming before the next sun comes up” Tormund says around the room. I stand beside Sansa taking in what was around the table.

“They are strong. Our enemy doesn’t tire, stop, or feel” I look up across the room seeing Jon concentrate in finding a strategy. “We can’t beat them in a straight fight”

“So what can we do?” The guy I am guessing is Jaime Lannister speaks up.

“The Night King made them all. They follow his command. If he falls, getting to him may be our best chance.”

“If that's true, he'll never expose himself.”

“Yes, he will.” Everyone in the room turns to Bran. “He'll come for me. He's tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyed Ravens. He wants an endless night. He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory.”

“That's what death is, isn't it? Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been and what we've done, we're not men anymore. Just animals. Your memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'd start with you.” Sam adds.

“His mark is on me. That is how he will find me.” Bran lifts the cuff og his arm and reveals a red mark. “He always knows where I am.We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood.”

“You want us to use you as bait?”

“Sansa is right,” I say. “You are leaving yourself wide open for him to take”

“ We're not leaving you alone out there.” Arya adds on. I can see the worry in each Stark kid.

“He won't be. I'll stay with him.” He tells the Starsks. He then turns to Bran. “With the Ironborn. I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now.” Bran nods.

“We'll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can.” I say to Bran.

“When the time comes, Ser Davos and I will be on the walls, to give you the signal to light the trench.” Tyrion says.

“The dragons should give us an edge in the field.” Davos was right. Hopefully the dragons can be of huge advantage. Can certainly even the field with how many undead soldiers they have.

If they're in the field, they're not protecting Bran. We need to be near him. Not too near, or the Night King won't come. But close enough to pursue him when he does.” Jons says. “Let's get some rest.” Around the room they all start walking out.

“Princess” I turn over and see Arya standing there. I don’t know why I was nervous but her presence had me looking around. I see Jon walking out with Daenerys and I bit my tongue. A girl is free to feel jealous right?

“It's just y/n” We start walking together towards the outside of the gate. “If you are into title maybe I should start calling you Lady Stark”

“Am no lady. Certainly don’t dress like one”

“You don’t say” We share a glance, laughing.

“So you are going to be in the front lines?” I nod. “Can I be in the front lines?” I stop in my tracks looking over at her. She was pretty serious about the statement.

“I don’t think you need my permission but since you are asking me,not in the front lines” I shake my head and continue to walk. “Start spreading the dragon glass to everyone” I tell Malakho. We stand beside the carriages seeing the weapons being dispersed.

“I know how to use a sword. I fight better than most of the soldiers around here.” As the lines are running smoothly I start to walk over the Greyworm. The Unsillied pulled on rope causing a large boulder to be thrown into the air by a large trebuchet. I turn over to see other Unsullied cleaning their weapons.

“Princess. Lady Stark” Greyworm bows at us.

“Greyworm” I stand closer to him. “Lady Stark will stand with you in the back line with the Unsullied. You are not to look after her as she is capable of doing that herself.” Greyworm nods. “She will be following straight orders from me, as the Unsullied will follow orders from her”

“Yes, Princess”

“Get them in formation.” Greyworm excuses himself. I turn over to Arya who looks at me in disbelief. “I know you can protect yourself, which is the reason why the Unsullied won’t. They will stand beside you and you as one of them” I walk closer staring into her eyes. “They are not soldiers, they are people. You are to be one of them now and as such, you will fight alongside them.” I straighten myself up. “If the Lady still wishes too”

“I need to take my stance then” She walks off to rush behind Greyworm. I need to find Jon. I rush up the stairs and look at places I know but I didn’t find him. I walk over the ends of the wall. I was thinking there was no way I was going searching into the maze this castle is. I am going to search the outside so I don’t come across Ghost. I made a sharp turn and the first thing I heard was a low Growl. Damn it. I look up and see Jon and Sam looking over the wall. Maybe Ghost knows me now? I didn’t want to disturb their conversation but the Arya thing was important.

“Have you told her yet?”

“No.” I hear Jon responds. I stop, now not really caring about Ghost’s stare.

“Mm-hmm. Being careful? Biding your time. Waiting for the perfect-” Their conversation stopped with a high pitch yelp I let out. Ghost pushed me to the ground and is now circling me.

“Ghost!” I hear Jons voice but it's too late. Ghost has laid down next to me with his head on my stomach. My arms fall to my side in relief.

“I think he likes you” I open my eyes seeing Jon and Sam looking down at me.

“Or he likes to play with his food” I hear them chuckle before Jon has the bright idea to push Ghost off and help me up.

“I need to speak to you about Arya” I clean myself up from the snow and look over to Jon. “She asked me if she could be in the front lines. I would have suggest otherwise but she has this stare, a stubborn stare that wouldn’t go away”

“All the Starks have it,” Sam adds. Jon gives him a glare, making him back away with a laugh. Sam excuses himself and leaves Jon and I alone.

“I can’t tell her what to do. If this is what she wants then I can’t stop her” another rush of relief passes through me

“Good. I placed her with Greyworm in the second stance. She will fight alongside them, if things get rough she will be one of the first ones to fall back into the gates.” At this time the sun has gone down. Now we are only waiting for the night to end. “What did Sam mean?” Jon raises his eyebrow. “He asked if you told her yet? Told who what?” I feel Jon grab my hand.

“I am the son of Rhaegar Targeryen and Lyanna Stark. Sam read it when he was studying to become a maester and Bran verified it” He needed to tell Daenerys.

“Do you think it's a good idea to tell her this? She has suffered for this crown. She will find you as a threat” Jon pulls me closer wrapping me into his arms.

“I have to tell her the truth. Just like it is true I am her brother's son, it's just as true that I don’t want a crown. I am not a threat to her claim to the throne.” I nod my head against him. I close my eyes, inhaling his presence. I chuckle hearing loud and clear Ghost’s growls. “When this is all over you and Ghost need to do one on one bonding”

“Oh yeah. We can go hunting. I hid and he hunted. Or maybe knitting, that fur coat can keep someone warm” That last part didn’t make him happy.

“No fur coats and no human hunting” Jon looks at both of us. Ghost scoffs at me and leaves.

“He doesn’t need all that fur!” I scream but I was grabbed by Jon

“Stop it” he warned with a smile. He had his hands holding my face which he used to pull me closer to him. I don’t know how but he made everything in my head vanish at that point. I pull back looking at him. Even in the shadow of the fire, Jon looked beautiful. “You’re so pretty” I laugh.

“I was just thinking how pretty you are” I removed my hands from around his waist to his face. “I love your hair. Those dark eyes. The way you stare” his furrowed eyebrows almost made me bust out laughing again. “The way you stare at others when you are mad. Your red nose and cheeks in the cold. I love your lips” I give him a quick kiss. My finger moved under his left eye and over the bridge of his nose to his right eyes. “The freckles that run along here” with his eyes closed he grabs hold of my hand and places it on his cheek. His head falls against the palm of my hand and a gentle smile appears. His other hand is already wrapped around my waist keeping close to him.

“Is there anything else you love?”

“Yes” I answer almost too fast. He opened his eyes in a quick second. “I love” I pull his face closer. “I love y-” I drag out the word seeing his eyes follow the movement of my lips. “-our thick eyebrows” I laughed as I felt his shoulders fall. His face made me laugh even harder.

“You know what I love?” He quickly recovered. Grabbing ahold of me. His eyes looked down at me while his arms kept in one place. The laugh so far forgotten. “I love you” oh no. Probably not the best thing to think about after someone confesses they love you but, oh no. What am I scared of? Nothing.

“I love you”

[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