#i want bran to be happy

[hyacinthecanard]

"Brandon the Knight" , they called him. At first, it was to mock him. Behind his back, of course, as he was still a son of house Stark even if his legs didn't work. But then it was just a fact, as nothing could stop Bran at achieving his dream, and no one could say that a direwolf at a tourney or in battle wasn't impressive.

Alternate Universe : Winterfell isn't taken, or maybe it is just Bran's escapist dream as he waits in that cavern.

I didn't think too much about the saddle as I know nothing of riding, even less of medieval riding. I tried to make somthing that could hold him enough, but he doesn't really need something to direct his direwolf as he is a very competent warg.

Note that he dresses in some very southern clothes (although in Stark colors) because Knighthood is still a pretty southern concept.

Forgive me I traced the wolf and the lettering, I was lazy.

[melrosing]

If the kingdoms at the end go all independent. Who ends up king in the north? I assume Sansa is queen in the vale with Harold hardying but is bran really ok for king in the north? Will it go to Rickon?

talked about this a little before but basically I don't really see the seven kingdoms each becoming independent: I think whatever becomes of the Targaryen legacy, Aegon's ice & fire dream (or whatever it was called lol) was clear that there was strength in unity and I think that echoes throughout asoiaf generally.

I think it's likely Sansa will govern the North (I agree that her arc in preparing her for that role is incomplete, but at least she has that arc where compared to Rickon). Arya's a charismatic character and a strong leader besides, you could certainly say she'd be as good at governing as Sansa. but I just don't really feel like a governing role resonates in her story regardless, so that does leave Sansa (who I personally really doubt will just marry Harold Hardyng and settle down in the Vale for all of time)

and I fully buy into the Bran as a fisher king theory - I don't think he'll govern exactly but will become a figurehead of westeros, uniting the people and the land. doubt he'll be based in King's Landing as that's likely to be a pile of ash and in any case was always very much part of the political plot, divorced from the supernatural and the struggles of the rest of Westeros. you constantly get a sense of KL as a corrupted seat where the monarchs and their court are entirely removed from the smallfolk on their very doorstep, so I don't see it having a place in Bran's reign, whatever that ends up looking like

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[ridasart]

today’s leah/bran thoughts: one of my big worries with the a&o series is that the reason patricia briggs is (finally) focusing more on leah, both as a character and her relationship with bran, is because she plans on killing off leah eventually 😭 she keeps teasing an inevitable bran vs charles showdown, and the only situation i can see that happening is if leah dies, bran goes berserk and becomes a danger to everyone, so charles then has no choice but to stop him

[lemon-grey]

Free to follow our hearts 💙

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

AGoT was absolutely making some big statementsᵀᴹ re deconstructing unrealistic fantasies and how they make tragedies out of children, with Jon, Bran, and Sansa being the main vehicles for this commentary. They are basically three different versions of GRRM’s critique on the genre. All three had built life expectations based on the songs fed to them as children, but had to have those dreams and aspirations (very) violently shattered as they were thrust into a world that didn’t care how it made corpses out of them. They have all been made victims of fantasy’s violence in a tragic process that is believed to be the natural order.

Sansa realizes in time that the songs didn’t paint the full picture. The singers neglected to warn her that not all handsome princes are kind, and not all knights actually understand the contradictions in the vows they swore; some don’t really care to in the first place. She learns that the handsome prince she loves can brutalize her through the very knights who should protect her (an innocent maiden). Though he doesn’t know it yet, it was Bran’s very ideal that almost killed him. He wanted to be Barristan the Bold, a valiant knight of the kingsguard. But it was a member of this “noble” order that tried to murder him (and thus made his hopes and dreams impossible) because he witnessed him betraying the man and institution he swore allegiance to. And Jon, like Bran, wanted to be the valiant hero. He banked on the songs which propagandized the Night’s Watch and their noble exploits. Then he actually joined the watch and came to learn that this “noble” order is an oppressive xenophobic force; and the contradictions presented when the oppressed (a bastard boy with little social status) unwittingly becomes an oppressor (him initially buying into the propaganda that the wildlings shouldn’t be a protected class).

Once all is said and done, all three children are forced to take on roles that couldn’t be farther from what they envisioned. Sansa is a princess hopping from one tower to the other, forced to cater to the whims of abusive men. Bran is a crippled boy who unlocks a magical power that he doesn’t really care for; he wanted to be a knight not a magician for crying out loud! And Jon does become Lord Commander as he wished, but he is utterly depressed and lonely when he’s made to foreswear family ties and drive his friends away once he gains power over them.

But the cool thing is, in the very same way that fantasy is deconstructed through them, it is also reconstructed and given new meaning as they find a place for themselves in the world in spite of their tragedies. Sansa is still a pretty princess in a tower, but she is learning to be her own rescuer and she has managed to retain empathy and kindness in an environment that tried to tell her how futile it would all be. Bran may be crippled and incapable of becoming Brandon the Bold, but he has reinvented what it means to go on the hero’s adventure and he is beginning to build a role as the Prince of the North. And Jon may be a bastard, yet he has somehow become the living embodiment of what it is to be the valiant prince that little children love to dream about.

[hell-heron]

hello! on the theon bringing hostages to harlaw thing... while rickon feels more appropriate (mouldability plus rodrickon feelings) i feel a preference for bran being brought there, mostly because of my interest in the ghosts in winterfell trio that bran, jon, and theon form... his age being sinilar theon when he was taken hostage to winterfell is another interesting one for me, since i really love theon's line in acok about him and bran both being princes of winterfell and it does insane things to me in vein of roleswapping (i also have a history of being weird about this with like reek ii and prince theon into ramsay bolton and reek iii) . beefing with eight year olds escalating to like. FINE you be me take all this tragedy on your own back do you still hate me? come see my mother come see this lacuna you and yours left and you fill that gap. don't you like that? you can be theon greyjoy before it all and i'll be your prince of winterfell

Anon you have broken me

[simonsaysletsgo]

Insane thought of the day: Leah/Bran kind of have Kate/Anthony vibes

[thesundowncrew]

As soon as Bran responded, Sow'in's hand went back to work- scritch scratch scritch scratch

In the quiet that drew out after the boy had given what the ghoul asked for, he continued. It was context for his previous question and surprisingly it had more to do with the littler child rather than himself. Just as how Bran kept his eyes down and his hands busy with the cards, Sow'in continued to write; though the scratching was less rushed than before- scritch scratch scritch

It had never occurred to the ghoul that the children were not blood-siblings - but he had confirmation that the one called 'Maude' was more guardian than mother to the both of them. He did not find information about them relevant to him whatsoever and so did not make an effort to know more about them personally. But when information was given freely, it was unlike him to turn a deaf ear. Whether he would prove helpful afterwards remained to be seen. His hand moved across the page- scritch scratch scritch

When the boy was finally done speaking, he looked like he had shrunken even more in his seat; his confidence fading way with his voice. And while it seemed as if the ghoul had not been listening the entire time, he had actually dedicated a fresh page of his journal to the boy's enquiry. Simple bullet points like: -family (mother, father, brother) -does not remember her -forgotten, as if doesn't exist -curse? - determine type of magick/spell

Sow'in finally put the quill down and leaned back into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Ah have to determine the cause of the magick first before ah can truly say what happened an' how to remedy it. But ah understand what it is you're askin' of me," said the ghoul. Though he made no promises, he gave every request some serious thought, no matter how big, small or simply made in passing. "Whatever the case, ah will ensure she is unharmed."

The ghoul rose from the desk. "We are done for today. You may return to your studies." With a wave of his hand, he kept his journal and other materials away. "Ah'll be leaving shortly to retrieve more food." Of the fae kind. "Sundown will not welcome guests when ah'm not present so you may rest easy. Ah assume you will both behave. Do you.. have any more questions before I go?"

“Numb, yeah.” Being sick, a sore throat. “Like that. Yeah.” Short, monotone agreements. Bran couldn’t muster any other answers. Not now, at least.

Why do you ask?

Silence stretched for a few seconds. The boy took a breath and glanced up toward the banister, toward their room. He doubted Nettie could hear them through the closed door. The last time he saw her, she’d been fully absorbed in toys and doodles.

Still, when his gaze returned to the cards in his hands, he kept his voice low. “Nettie and I… we’re not related. Maude just found her outside her cottage one day in the rain. She was crying, covered in mud. She said she ran away from home ‘cause her family forgot her. She didn’t know how it happened.”

He shuffled the order of the cards as he spoke, movements slow and absent. Blue flower, blue, red. “Once, Maude tried to bring her back home, but… it was like they couldn’t see her at all. Her parents, her brother… like she didn’t exist to them.” Red, blue, blue. “Like she’d never existed to them.”

The cards stilled in his hands. “Nettie cried so much that she couldn’t breathe right. Maude brought her back to her cottage. She’s lived with us ever since.”

He inhaled to steady himself. “Maude thought it was some sort of curse, maybe, but she couldn’t find a way to undo it. So… I was wondering if you might know a way.” The determination to save them both still burned in Bran’s chest, but sometimes fear crept up on him, a winter chill smothering a small flame, and his hope wavered. Like now. His voice grew even quieter. “Just, um… in case the fae get me in the end after all, and she needs somewhere safe to stay.”

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[ladystoneboobs]

idt we talk enough about how a song of ice and fire is also the song of incest and cannibalism. i mean, sure, obviously both of those subjects are noted as present, but the saga feels much more known for its incest, which idt is fair or accurate to the later materiel. iirc, jaime fucking cersei next to their dead firstborn is the last instance of onpage incest happening in present tl, and after that it's all about the cannibals, baby.

(disclaimer: cw/tw sa, cw/tw rape, and i'm not counting cousincest as that's normal in-world even for non-targaryens and also still legal in many places in our world today, nor counting the faux-incestuous freudian mess that is littlefinger/alayne(sansa)/sweetrobin, nor any dark humor jokes and/or unfulfilled threats wrt forced cannibalism)

in fact pretty much all the active incest during the present tl happens in those first 3 books:

the twincest as a major plot point ofc, kicking action off when bran saw them fucking in a tower

and viserys creeping on dany and twisting her nipple

tyrion relating his backstory to bronn wherein he and tysha were both raped by proxy by his father, tywin (tho tyrion does not use that terminology)

craster still being alive to rape and impregnate his own daughters (resulting in dozens of forced incestuous relationships)

and theon unknowingly groping his own sister while she (knowingly) groped him in return

jaime's early pov recalled how he shut up cersei with kissing when they fought after bran refused to die

bella of stoney sept trying and failing to seduce gendry who is (unbeknownst to them both) her half-brother as both were sired by robert baratheon (only example in these 3 books where incest was averted before any sexual activity or incestuous contact occurred)

the aforementioned sept twincest next to joffrey's corpse

tyrion learning from oberyn about cersei twisting his penis when he was a baby

cersei's failed attempt to seduce jaime in wst, pulling out his dick for either a bj or hj until her talk of tyrion's death made him lose his boner

while incest is not exactly absent from the text after that, it seems to exist in the feastdance only in hypotheticals or past memories:

aeron's trauma flashbacks of his (implied only in published text) csa by euron

jaime still feeling lust when seeing cersei nude

and her fond reminiscing about them fucking behind robert's back/brief dream of them as a married couple before her walk of shame

and cersei remembering another she twisted tyrion's baby penis

victarion misinterpreting asha's offer of partnership as a marriage proposal and suddenly looking at his niece in a new way with "his manhood beginning to stiffen"

jaime's recollection of fucking cersei at darry next to robert as he was passed out drunk before cersei sent him to hunt arya (which would have happened back in agot and the point of this scene is more his failed hunt for a child just to make cersei happy)

arianne's "uneasy" memory of a past fantasy about being seduced by a man whose description is suspiciously similar to her late uncle oberyn

the aborted marital match of aegon/young griff to his purported aunt dany

illyrio saying (the now dead) viserys tried to rape dany the night before her wedding to drogo (another event from agot concerning a guy we already knew was into incest)

and tyrion once saying he wanted to rape as well as murder cersei

conversely, the cannibalism in the earlier books is most often only unproven hypotheticals alluded to as possible cannibalism:

old nan saying the others fed their dead servants the flesh of human children (which we have not yet seen with any wights so far, whether or not one counts walking undead eating human flesh as straight-up cannibalism)

the mystery meat in flea bottom's bowls o' brown which may or may not contain symon silver tongue after tyrion had him killed

renly's recollection that cressen kept stannis from catapulting their old master-at-arms by saying they may need to eat him later (which did not come to pass thanks to davos)

joffrey telling his people to eat their own dead (with no way of knowing if any actually did)

lady hornwood eating her own fingers (though bran's pov only notes them being chewed on, not swallowed. it's only in adwd that people talk of her eating the fingers.)

the mentions of the ice river clans being the cannibals beyond the wall (who are def not among the free folk jon snow gets to know onpage, making it just background detail)

bran's (possibly mythical) story of the rat cook

and biter chewing on people he attacked and other corpses (which seems to be just a side hobby connected to his killing method moreso constituting a snack than a full meal from a person butchered for meat. this tendancy of his is just background detail in acok, with biter chewing a corpse in the background after the weasel soup operation, and the hindsight implication that it could well have been him rather than dogs or wolves who had "been at" the corpses after the skirmish where yoren was killed)

while the feastdance feels much more in your face with cannibalism, having not only more total mentions of the practice but also more confirmed, actual cannibalism (as opposed to the ambiguity of each and every bowl o' brown), for those who know how to look at the evidence:

jaime learned that his father's mad dog aka the mountain fed parts of vargo hoat to all his prisoners (including vargo himself) after recapturing harrenhal

and euron bragged about pulling a similar trick with the warlocks he captured (the only twist being that the warlocks knew what they were being forced to eat, which vargo hoat and wylis manderly etc at harrenhal likely didn't)

the elder brother of the quiet isle told of biter eating all of a woman's breasts at saltpans after she'd been raped and killed (prob the largest amount of flesh biter's confirmed to have eaten from one corpse)

bran and co. ate "pig" supplied by coldhands which had to be long pig aka human meat

brienne felt her face being eaten by biter in her own pov (which is so much worse than him chewing others in the background of the weasel soup scene)

theon was told that two ironmen at moat cailin were found eating their dead comrades

the astapori were said to eat their own dead while under siege by the yunkishmen

and then were said to do so again in refugee camps outside meereen

sam and davos sailed past skagos and remembered stories of skagosi cannibalism

khrazz the pit fighter cut the hearts from his defeated foes to eat them

cotter pyke's last letter to jon snow said the wildlings were eating their own dead at hardhome

4 of stannis's men were executed by burning for butchering and eating other men (with asha wondering how many others had done so without being caught)

and ofc the frey pies with wyman manderly having his 3 former guests killed and serving their meat to their own kin and the other guests at ramsay's wedding while eating some himself too

two of these examples (involving gregor clegane and euron greyjoy) must have actually happened during the course of asos, but grrm chose to give us the gruesome details in affc, which was brand new information about men we already knew were villains but did not know were into that fucked-up shit specifically, unlike being reminded that agot-era jaime and viserys wanted to fuck their sisters. (and not unlike how adwd has the clarification of multiple characters saying lady hornwood ate her own fingers as opposed to bran's acok pov just saying she chewed on them.) it's as if after craster was killed and jc effectively broke up grrm decided cannibalism was the taboo subject matter he would fill the later books with, so we'd really feel the increasing danger of starvation-induced cannibalism with winter's arrival (and have no trouble believing rickon's new home of skagos really is a cannibal island). however, in-universe it feels like there's some sort of environmental balance connection so that the decrease in one formerly common behaviorial abomination just allows another such abomination to fill in the gap with a sharp increase in activity, like deer overpopulation resulting from lack of predators as if all the active incest somehow stopped more people from eating themselves or other people.

[llonelygoddess]

Yandere House Stark Headcanons

A/N: I ended up not doing Bran and Rickon only because I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later and they were a little difficult to write for. If you'd like to see headcanons for them I can definitely make another post for them, just let me know.

Let's say you are a low born person looking for refuge in Winterfell after your village was sacked by Wildlings. You had hoped to find some tavern to hold up in or even a brothel, but unbeknownst to you the Stark family kept an eye on newcomers. When they received news of your arrival, they requested your presence. It was only to talk about the possibility of nearby Wildlings, but when YOU showed up beaten and scared for your life- how could they not offer their Stark hospitality?

This is where the yandere tendencies begin.

Ned Stark, as a yandere, is protective and definitely has a savior complex. He's an honorable and just man that can't help but bring home strays, so when he sees you it's like finding Jon all over again. A deep sense of responsibility comes over him and he knows in that moment that you are just as much his as any of his kids. From that day forward he assigns a room for you in the castle and a handmaiden to keep you company, not that you'll be needing it. The family of course is shocked at his sudden interest, but they all love to see him happy and nothing makes him more happy than seeing you taken care of.

Now Catelyn is initially worried that Ned has taken a romantic interest in you, but when she sees the way you both interact she understands the fatherly bond he is trying to create very similar to his own kids. It didn't take long for her to fall into her own yandere tendencies; checking in on you in the mornings, making prayer wheels even when you're not sick, helping in the kitchen to make sure your food was perfect ( and not poisoned). She takes her role as your surrogate mother very seriously,sometimes to the extent of watching you sleep or ordering guards to discreetly watch over you and report back. Her biggest worry is that you'll be taken away from them so she takes extra precautions to keep you safe.

Robb is head over heels for you instantly. Man is down bad. Much like his father, Robb has a savior complex and finds himself wanting to be YOUR savior always. He does this by training extra hard with Jon, keeping an eye on you at all times, and giving threatening looks to any man or woman who gets too close to you. He doesn’t mean to scare away any potential friends but he does mean to scare away potential lovers. He couldn’t bear to see you with anyone outside the family, and even then he has a sword up his butt about it. 

On the other hand, Jon takes a while to warm up to you. He loves his family and is vicious to outsiders who could harm them. Eventually, seeing how you interact with everyone makes him a tad jealous. Not of you, but of his family and how easily they can approach you. I definitely see Jon as an overprotective/stalker yandere with strong jealous tendencies that make him beg for your approval. He finds himself wherever you are, lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to catch you alone. Jon feels like himself around you and the more time you spend together the more addicted to your presence he becomes. 

Theon is hands down THE worshiper of the group. It's a hot take for sure but as a yandere, I see Theon's insecurities and fears taking over, slightly similar to reek!Theon. He sees you as a deity, above the Lords and Ladies, even above the King/Queen themself. If it were up to him he'd be the one giving you your meals, running your baths, standing by your side as guard. He cherishes your very presence and hopes one day you'll see his never ending loyalty to you and only you. 

Sansa is very quiet about her obsession, you almost couldn't tell. She's the perfect friend, always sitting next to you at meals, gossiping about the Lords and Lady's of court, and helping you stock your wardrobe. Whatever hobby you choose to pick up, she's always there to praise you in your efforts and guide you in whatever way she can. She especially loves teaching you how to embroider as it's her specialty. It was all but normal until you came upon her private journal filled with both your names in beautiful cursive surrounded by hearts. You begin to notice the closeness she silently demands, eyeing everyone else to stay away. You see the way she longingly watches you from afar when you choose to spend time with anyone else. And your dresses, that you both so carefully picked out, seem to have a little embroidered "SS" on the nape of your neck.

Arya sees you as her golden older sibling, the one who can do no wrong. She is constantly dragging you around Winterfell - riding horses and trying to shoot arrows (and failing lol). She finds comfort within you, the only person who doesn't expect anything of her except to be herself. And for that she will never leave your side. Most nights you'll find her trying to sneak into your room to share a bed, but whether she can get past the guards Ned and Catelyn have posted outside your door is another story.

[xoxoskai]

NIKOBRAN HEADCANNONS

to keep you going this last week before God of Fury drops<3

Between all his sons-in-law, Brandon is Kyle's favorite.

Levi's is Mia (cousin-fuckers who stole his son and daughter he'll always beef with)

Brandon and Niko are the type of relatives to wear matching clothes on Christmas because Niko would take up any chance to wear matching anything with Brandon.

If and when Brandon bakes, no one gets a chance to even taste what he made before Niko devours it all.

The only place Niko can fall asleep in at record speed is Brandon's arms.

The only reason Niko teaches Brandon how to drive a bike is so he can put his arms around his boyfriend's slutty waist boyfriend.

Remi is terrified on Brandon's behalf.

"Bran, yes, he's hot but mate, look at that guy! He has some skin on those tattoos!"

Astrid shares Remi's concerns but soon comes to find out that Niko is the biggest goofball of sunshine and almost adopts him.

Surprisingly, the one who takes the longest to accept Brandon is Rai. Because it's not her first time meeting the Kings (hello, she's a far relative) and she's worried that her oldest who is actually tender hearted and plagued by demons of his past, might be crushed beyond repair if Brandon hurt him.

Brandon and Landon think they can get away with tricking their in-laws by dressing as each other but they underestimate the Sokolov-Hunters who told them apart the moment they walked in.

Brandon tried it on Niko once when he first divulged about how Maya and Mia used to do it, but Niko could tell Brandon apart from his "psycho" brother in a heartbeat.

"It's your eyes" He had murmured. "Yours sparkle"

Glyndon is weary of Niko but as long as Brandon's happy, she's happy.

Landon is supremely unhappy.

When Landon first opposes their relationship by threatening Niko, Niko flings back "Remember who you're dating and what I mean to them" back at him.

Niko and Landon almost kill each other multiple times.

If there's someone even more unhappy than Landon, it's Crieghton.

Creighton: "Does this mean I can't fight him anymore?" Elsa: "Why were you fighting him before this?!" Creighton: "Is anyone else hearing this buzzing? I should go check."

Niko goes feral whenever he sees Brandon shirtless and vice-versa but

Niko is always shirtless, so Brandon is always suffering.

Unlike Niko, Brandon doesn't carry him into a dark corner to immediately fuck.

If there's no scene of Brandon asking Niko "Who's fucking you?" Rina, you'll hear from my therapist. And if there's not a single, evil, unhinged Brandon moment where Niko is flabbergasted at the change and is accusing him of being two-faced at which Brandon will laugh, lean in and ask tauntingly "What are you going to do? Tell on me?" I will sue.

Brandon's muse is Niko. (Bitch, I said what I said)

Unlike Landon, Brandon doesn't divulge this piece of information to his boyfriend because he does not want to give Niko even more reasons to walk around with lesser clothes.

Brandon gets a tattoo for Niko on his ribs. (cue feral Nikolai)

After which Niko tries to get Brandon's name tattooed on his favorite organ, but Jeremy literally deadlocks the door to his room to keep him inside after Niko asked for opinions in their group chat about his decision.

Niko: You don't think it's romantic? Jeremy, Killian, Gareth, Landon, Eli, Creighton, Remi:

They've definitely rolled around in paint and fucked on a canvas after it. Niko would display it in the entryway of their house if Brandon let him.

They've also joined the mile high club.

After they get engaged, Brandon calls him by his full-name as in "Nikolai Sokolov-Hunter-King" just to piss him off but Nikolai loves being associated to Brandon in every possible way, so it backfires.

Their wedding bands have each other's name inscribed in them.

As does the underside of their ring fingers in the other's handwriting.

Nikolai tries drawing a heart over the i in his name and almost gets smacked.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Perfect Queen?

BRANDON STARK X READER

Summary- As the new queen and lady of Winterfell, you feel out of place. Thankfully, Bran reassures you of your position and loves you for who you are- not who you are trying to be.

A/N- I have not written for GoT in awhile, but HotD season 2 has sparked my interest again! Reminder that REQUEST ARE OPEN! <3

Requested by- @eualiabd @zamwnda

Word count- 1,612

You were barely a noble. The third daughter out of seven girls born into house Frey. Not a single male survived long enough to carry on the family name. What does a family full of women do? Marry off. So quickly that just after your ten and nine birthday, you were the only sister who was unwed.

Maybe being from a low house, and not having much experience with lordship- landed you as King Brandon Starks wife.

Of course, your mother was ecstatic when the king of all men, wanted to marry you. You had only known the previously named prince when he was a boy.

His father, Ned Stark, would visit on business to the Riverlands. Brandon always joined, eager to see you. Even after his fall, you were able to see him one last time before he disappeared for many years. You were devastated when you learnt of his 'death.' When he returned, you figured he forgot all about you. Though, a dozen knights showing up at your door, requesting you to meet with the King, changed your mind.

"A Stark never forgets an oath." Was his reasoning, suddenly a fond memory of Bran and you as children appeared. He, even at his young age, held your hand and swore on his name to marry you one day. To join your families.

At his now official and surprising marriage proposal, you quickly agreed. Any woman would be insane not to, feelings aside, you were helping the reputation of your house.

While your reunion with him was quick, it was satisfactory. He had changed with age and with his new responsibilities. As king and The Three Eyed Raven. Deep down, he was still the boy you loved. Even if he only showed it to you.

The cold air was refreshing, not stiff not muggy like you were used to. Though it took some time, you've learnt to grow fond of the snow and crisp feeling. A trip back to Brans home made you overjoyed. Even if Bran was only there on 'kingly' matters.

A large coat made of the finest furs rested up on your shoulders. A pin with the Stark emblem let all know you were the Queen. A title you were trying to get comfortable with. There were so many duties you were getting familiar with.

That wasn't hardly the worst part, however.

What irked you to no end, were the stares. Mostly women who were in court, or wives of men who frequented the castle. They had no room to speak, yet still murmured and gossiped to each other. The audacity to talk about the queen as they passed you. It shocked you that they were so informal.

You could never get close enough to hear, as Brandon had two Knights with you at all times. You understood the precaution, though your freedom was slightly limited.

"Bran, please tell me what they said..." You pleaded. It was evening, and the two of you were sat side by side for supper. Only separated by a corner of the table.

He looked up at you, face expressionless like it always was. "It is insignificant gossip."

You pushed your warm plate of food back, you were not interested anymore. "Not to me, it isn't."

Bran was fully aware of what they were thinking and saying. Just because he was All-Seeing, did not mean you also had to bear that burden. He would do everything he could to keep away the ill effects of his powers.

"Consider the matter finished." Was all he responded with, very 'Bran-like.'

However, the matter was not finished to you. With enough time, you knew you could get Bran to cave into you. He almost never told you 'no.' All he wanted was to keep you happy. He just did not see any reason to spread negative thoughts into your mind.

You pushed your chair back with a small screech. Taking a deep breath, you took one long stride to Bran's side.

Maybe you were trying to soften him up, you'd never tell, but you wrapped both hands around his forearm. Even crouching down to look up at him.

"I want to be a good queen. I want to fix whatever they chastised me for. Bran, you know I wont give until you tell me... Surely you know that?" You lightly moved your hand up and down his arm. He did know, he just wanted to do something his way for once. Deep within, he knew you'd get what you wanted. It was terribly hard to do anything that upset you.

He pursed his lips, giving out a sigh. "You are a good queen." He leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

With a puff you stood up, letting him go. "Obviously no one else thinks so." Your dramatic side got the best of you as you turned and left the dinning hall.

You allowed yourself to wallow in self pity, something you'd have time to regret later.

Your handmaid rushed behind you, eager to help whatever the problem was.

"I just don't understand why he won't tell me, Tamsin." You sulked on a padded chair while your handmaid gently took the ties and pins out of your hair.

She pressed a friendly hand to your shoulder, "He just wants to protect you."

You gave a half hearted smile, "I want to get better, I've never been a queen before..." You stood to let Tamsin being to unlace your corset.

You both heard a strong knock, assumingly from a member of the kings guard.

"The queen needs a moment to dress!" Tamsin called out, aware of a queens modesty.

A deep voice called back, "The King requests to see her Majesty."

Tamsin stopped with the laces and went to peek her head out. You couldn't hear what she was saying, but she quickly returned.

"Uh, Ma'am, the King is outside... waiting..." She was always a little nervous around Bran, you knew it was because of the Title and passiveness.

She fiddled with her fingers, "You are dismissed, thank you. Please let the King in." She responded with a light curtsy.

After Tamsin opened the door, you stood and watched as a knight pushed Bran in. The two of you were quickly left alone as Bran waved off the man.

You look down, trying to press your dress flat, slightly anxious.

Bran simply looked, the smallest smile present. "I apologize for upsetting you. It was not my intention." He says, his own hands resting still in his lap.

"I know..." You licked your lips, suddenly your mouth felt dry. At the following silence you started again, "Will you help me?" You gestured to your lace that was halfway tied on your back.

He nodded, "Of course."

He pushed himself over, getting closer to you. You turned your back to him, pulling your hair over your shoulders.

"Bran?" You quietly said as his gentle hands worked at your laces. An activity that was strangely intimate and peaceful.

"Yes, my love?" He responded, mindlessly. You let the dress fall from your frame. You stepped out of it, now only in a white slip.

You gnawed at your bottom lip, tears were threatening. "Please, just tell me if I become a better queen?" Your voice cracked up on the word 'queen', tears spilling over.

Hands came up to try and cover your sobs.

''I have a feeling you have been struggling with this for awhile..." Bran says, ushering you to spin around with his hands at your waist. He would never read your secret thoughts without your permission.

You weren't able to deny or agree, but you turned to look at him.

"I have seen, and you will become the most loving Queen the realm has ever known. You will be named for your care of the people." He said, pulling you down into a hug.

"Really?"

You fell further to your knees, leaning your head onto this lower chest. Bran pet your hair slowly, his other hand rested on your back.

"Have I ever lied to you?" You shook your head, still buried in him.

"Would you really like to know what those two women said?" He asked, a finger bringing your chin up. You nodded.

"They said your house was not high enough for you to become queen. They were sure that they would be better candidates." His face was stoic, clearly in disgust at what they said.

You sighed and rested your head down once again, arms crossed under your head. You looked out the side sadly, though starting to accept your position. There was nothing you could do about the house you were born into.

"You do know that I would rather die an old and lonely man than marry another? Right?" He pets your hair once again.

A smile arises on your face. "I couldn't think of a more handsome nor giving husband of you."

Without skipping a beat, he says, "Well, that's because I am king." His expression and tone is serious, but you laugh nonetheless.

It is soon clear that he was joking as well, as he breaks into a grin.

You sigh once more, this time happy. "Can we retire to bed now?" You ask, squeezing his hand.

"Whatever you so wish."

Sleep was moments from taking you, your eyes fighting to stay open. You were pressed up as close as possible to Bran, your head tucked under his chin.

"I meant what I said, earlier." Bran mentions, staring up. Without moving you speak, "About what?"

"That you're already a great queen." Your heart fills with flutters.

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

A/N- Not going to lie to y'all, I hate this one. But, I promised more Bran content! Please let me know if you have any ideas on how to improve! Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the support guys!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[catsteeth]

Turn Your Cloak - Pt. 2

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x reader 

+:✿ Request ✿:+ Original One Shot - Finale

Request: “A part 2 of the Benjicot Blackwood one shot. Reader returns to Dragonstone and shows Rhaenyra the letter from Benji, the two of them bond. Benjicot staying at Dragonstone for the remainder of the war. Benji being a huge simp for reader. A little spicy with dry humping, but no actual smut” CW: MDNI, grinding, making out,  afab reader, alcohol consumption, mention of arranged marriage, mention of medieval sexting, mention of violence,  A/N: woof woof Word Count: 9K

It had been a long night at Dragonstone for your Mother Rhaenyra. She had expected you back home late that night, but the sun began to rise and you had yet to return. She spent the night restlessly pacing back and forth. She would have taken Syrax to the Riverlands herself if it weren’t for the Knight whom burst into her chambers to announce, 

“Your Grace, the Princess and Silverwing were spotted approaching over the sea.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Rhaenyra stormed into the gantry, ready to either berate you for causing her such distress or declare war on whomever harmed you. 

As she saw you dismounting Silverwing, unharmed, her concern faded and her anger rose. 

Her steps were heavy and quick, she huffed as she began to shout “Where have you-”

Before she could finish her question, you extended your hand towards your mother. Holding a scrolled piece of parchment, sealed by red wax stamped with the Blackwoods symbol. “An official proposal of marriage from Benjicot Blackwood.” You said with a prideful smile, knowing you had completed your task and accomplished it on your own terms.

Your mother’s angry demeanor dropped, surprised by your words and happiness. “Blackwood?” She questioned with furrowed brows, confused.

You nodded with a smile, “I wish to marry him, mother.” 

Rheanrya looked at your smile with confusion, then looked at the scroll in her hands, “I-” She began, but soon took hold of your hand and pulled you along. “Come here.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As she pulled you into a secluded room, she preyed the wax seal off of the parchment and began to read it in haste. 

You furrowed your brows, unsure of why she would not rejoice with you. She wanted this afterall. “Do you contest it?” You questioned, genuinely confused. 

She shook her head, “No.” She said calmly, looking up from the parchment and back at you. “I am simply surprised.” She said, a small smile creeping its way onto her face. “You left here begging to not wed, no more than a day ago. And here you are, handing me a proposal of marriage with a smile.” She said with an amused smirk as she stepped towards you.

You shrugged, “I admit I did not enjoy the men who contended, nor did I enjoy being contended for.” You said with a raised eyebrow and annoyed huff, thinking back to that horrid procession. 

She let out a breath of a laugh, “Well then he must have contended well enough.” She said, rolling up the parchment. 

You smiled to yourself, though you tried to conceal it poorly “He did not contend for my hand.” Your mother looked at you with confusion. “He fought valiantly against a Bracken who defiled our name, and questioned my parentage.” You looked at your mother and smiled warmly, “When I thanked him, that was when he proposed.” You couldn’t contain the blush creeping onto your cheeks as you thought of it,  “Away from prying eyes and ears.” That was true. But you would leave out the bit of that night where his fingers were pleasuring you. You looked at your mother with much more earnest eyes, “I feel I can depend on him, lean on him. And I feel he has humility. And he feels he can lean on me.” You said as you stepped closer to her, placing a hand onto hers.

Your mother smiled, and took your hand that held hers. “Then you have done the crown and your mother the queen a great service. A raven will be sent to the Blackwoods in haste. And we shall invite… Bran?...” She drawed out, attempting to remember the poor boy's name.

“Benjicot-” You corrected,

She immediately interrupted you and corrected herself, “Benjicot Blackwood will be invited warmly to live here at Dragonstone until the end of the war. Once the war has been won, you and he shall wed.” She and you smiled at one another. She, happy her daughter whom was forced to pick a spouse not only did so but found one she loved. And you, happy you found the person you would commit your life to. You mothers eyes, became slightly narrowed, “Gōntan mirros massigon rȳ ao se bisa valonqar?” “Did something happen between you and this boy?” She asked in Valyarian. Not wishing for anyone else to hear. She looked at your look of surprise and confusion, “Ao istan hen ry bantis. Nyke daor, issa hāedar. Nyke sepār- īlon līs sagon. Lo jorrāelagon sagon nyke kostagon syt nykeā sūmar naejot sagon-” “You were gone all night- I am not placing judgment, sweet girl. I just- we must be cautious. If need be I can arrange for a tea to be given-”

You shook your head, “No.” Though your mothers eyes still narrowed you realized that you had not explained why you were gone all night. “We were trapped within the Riverlands from a storm.” 

And with that, she was convinced. Though if the honest truth was told, you wished you were in need of such tea.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

And so the raven was sent, and eagerly Lord Blackwood responded with great enthusiasm as you expected. Benjicott would of course accept the invitation to Dragonstone. You wanted to take Silverwing to the Riverlands and bring him back home yourself. But your mother insisted on a more traditional manner. 

Your grandsire, Corlys and your brother, Jace escorted you to the harbors of the Vale. You stood at the front of your Grandsires ship. The Queen Who Never Was. You watched the land before you came closer and closer with a growing anticipation. It nearly startled you when you felt a strong hand caress your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder to see your Grandsire, Corlys. 

“I was about your age when I was wed to your grandmother.” He said with a comforting smile. “I was more nervous than when I first sailed to battle.” He said with a comforting pat on your back. 

You smiled at him and shook your head, “I am not nervous.” 

He let out a low and dry chuckle, “You never are.” He said as he watched the land approach the ship.

You looked at the party waiting at the harbor. Blackwood's banners flew in the wind. And you could see from such a distance, Lord Willem Blackwood already waving down your ship. You grimaced and then looked towards Corlys, “Grandsire.” 

“Hm?” He hummed.

You looked at him as you scrunched up your face, “I should warn you of his uncle, Willem.” 

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you with confusion, “Warn me?” No one would ever frighten Corlys, much less pose a threat to him. But what he did not know is that you were not speaking of a threat to his safety but to his patience. 

As the ship docked into the harbor, you smiled at Willem and waved back as you leaned into your grandsire, “Just smile at his words and ignore the rest.” you spoke through your teeth. 

As soon as you and your grandsire stepped off the boat, Willem Blackwood stepped forward, embracing you firmly. 

Your eyes went wide, surprised but unwilling to push the man off. Your grandsire debated tearing the man off of you but soon enough he let you go as he announced with great enthusiasm. “The princess!” He said as he patted your arms excitedly, “You’ll be my niece now eh? My niece the princess-” Soon your eyes darted behind him. You saw him, Ben. You watched him approach as he carried a bag of his belongings while scowling at his uncle for embarrassing him and annoying you and your family. Once Willem noticed his nephew coming he then excitedly announced, “And my nephew the prince!” He said with a hard pat to Ben’s back.

“Uncle.” Benjicot said in a deep and annoyed tone. Both a greeting and a warning for him to stop talking.

You smiled, trying to hold back blush as Ben’s eyes fell onto you. You bowed your head slightly as you greeted him. “Lord Blackwood, a pleasure.” You tried to remain formal around your families, for they did not know how intimate you both had become.

Ben’s gaze softened as he looked at you. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, then bringing your hand close to his heart. “My Princess, I am eternally honored and grateful for your hand.” Ben then looked to your Grandsire who stood protectively by your side. “Lord Corlys, an honor to meet you and board your ship.” He said with a respectful bow of his head. 

Corlys’s lips began to curl into a smile, he might have even patted the boy on the shoulder. But he was interrupted by Lord Willems' voice booming once again.

“Suppose that would make Lord Corlys your grandsire by law!” He said with another hard pat to Ben’s back. Benjicot closed his eyes and grimaced from the embarrassment. 

Your grandsire let out a sharp exhale as he placed a hand on your shoulder, “We’d better board.” He said with a put on smile.

Benjicot nodded, “Agreed.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once you boarded the ship, you found Benjicot standing at the railing of the ship alone.

“Do you like the sea?” You asked as you approached him. Ben’s eyes lit up as he turned to see you.

He smiled softly, turning his body to face you completely leaning against the railing of the ship. He shook his head, “Never seen it before. Only seen the rivers.” He took the sight of you in, “Quite different.” You continued to come closer to him. You stopped as your feet nearly touched his own.

You shook your head, “Not so different. Rivers flow to the sea, and the sea to the rivers.” You looked out to the waves of blue that surrounded the ship, “It’s such a thing of beauty.” you said taking in the sight.

Ben looked at you with loving eyes, “Yes it is.” You blushed, knowing he did not mean the ocean but you. He then finally turned his head to look at the water, “You’ll rule over it all someday.” 

You nodded, “That is true enough though I am unsure how fit I am for it.” you said as you looked down at your fingernails picking at your nail beds nervously.

Ben looked at you confused at your statement, “How do you mean?” He crossed his arms and looked at you closely. Wanting to listen to you as intensively as possible.

You looked at him with a slight annoyance. Surely he knew what you meant. The world knew what you meant. You looked over your shoulder to be sure no one was there to hear your words, “You understand what you are marrying?” You asked him with narrowed eyes.

He nodded confidently without hesitation, “A woman, a woman as brave and intelligent as she is beautiful.” His words were earnest.

You sighed, looking at the sea. You debated whether you should say such treasonous truths openly. But you were alone, and he was to be bound to you for life. So you began, softly speaking “My father taught me to fish, sea shanties, the ways of the sea and how to sail a ship through it. He loved me, my grandmother loved me too. So does my grandsire. They are my family, but they are not my blood.” Ben did not look surprised, nor did he look disappointed. That was when you knew he knew it. “You know it. They all know it. So do you, you are not an idiot.” You said, rolling your eyes.

He shook his head and took your hand into his, “I don’t care.” He was not in denial as your grandsire Viserys was. He knew it was the truth, he simply did not care about such pious, hypocritical, and righteous shit.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You should care. Your children by my womb will-”

“Will be my only children.” He interrupted you, not willing to hear you speak ill of yourself or your future children, “I do not care, if you had the blood of swineherds. I do not care what color your hair is. What I care for is you.” He asserted firmly.

You felt your heart melt. Though you knew the real consequences of your birth, “If the greens win, they’ll kill me.” you said somberly, wanting to prepare him for such a possibility. 

“No one will ever touch you.” He said as if it were a fact. 

“Sister.” Jaceryous’s voice called out startling you. 

“Jace.” You said out of breathe, “This is Benjicot Blackwood-” 

Jace interrupted, “Seven blessings to you both. Sister, I must speak with you alone.” He said, his voice devoid of any earnest happiness. 

You sighed at your brother, “Alright. In a moment.” you said, waving him off dismissively. You waited for him to walk back inside the ship before you turned to Ben, “I am sorry for him.” 

Ben shook his head, “It’s alright, he is distrusting of me for good reason. He does not know me and wants to protect you and your blood.” He trusted Jace more for it, and appreciated him more for it as well. 

You however did not share such sentiments. You held his face in your hands, “You are my blood now.” You said as you kissed him one last time before making your way into the ship to follow after Jace. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As you entered his cabin you huffed, “That was behavior unbefitting a prince.” you sneered at him. 

Jace however did not care of your concerns of how he treated your betrothed. He handed you a piece of parchment, “Read this.” he said quickly. 

As you read the letter it unveiled the plans your mother was planning in you and your brother's absence. To send ships to King's Landing to bring back Targaryen bastards to become dragon riders for her claim. 

Though you were thrilled with the idea, it was better than defeat. “This is good is it not?” You questioned. 

Jace took the parchment from your hand and huffed at you, “How could that be good?” he asked with his ever present attitude. 

You raised a brow at him “Was this idea not of your own doing? You thought of a Tarly on top of a dragon because it is better than death and defeat.” 

“A bastard on a dragon?” He said as if it were ridiculous. 

“It’s not unheard of.” You mumbled to yourself. 

“This is serious.” Jace affirmed, “If she follows through with this plan, she brings more questions to our parentage.” He said as if you were a fool. 

You scoffed at your brother’s vanity. “People need nothing to question it when they’ve eyes.” You looked at him, your eyes softening. “Make your peace with it.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Back on Dragonstone, though the war was not over, preparations for your wedding were underway with haste. It was clear as soon as the war was done, your courtship would be as well. Making good on the promise your family made to the Riverlands. 

You stood in front of a mirror in your wedding gown that was being tailored to you. It was not like a traditional Targaryen gown. It was ivory with thick lace embroidery throughout the fabric, like the way sea foam floats against the surface of the ocean. Adorned with pearls sewn into the fabric sporadically. The sleeves were fitted up to your elbow, where they flared out, flowing freely like the way seaweed flows in the ocean. Underneath these bell sleeves were a second layer of sleeves with a distinct pointed design. Your inner sleeves were more fitted around the wrist as they extend out into a sharp point over the back of the hands. Pearls were sewn into the thick embroidery that lined the pointed cuffs of your sleeves that cascaded over the backs of your hands. The dress was long and flowed behind you like a river.

You’d even worn a pigment on your eyelids. A shining blueish, pinkish, silver, that came from crushed seashells. Your lips and cheeks blushed as the veil was placed onto your head. The veil drapes elegantly over you, slightly covering your forehead, draping against your shoulders before flowing behind you and dragging along the floor. The veil is crafted from lace, with an ornate pattern. The intricate lacework is densely populated with aquatic motifs. Along the edges, the lace appears scalloped. The most eye-catching feature along the veil’s border are teardrop-shaped pearls, hanging like delicate droplets from the edge of the fabric. 

“I never thought I would see you in a veil.” Baela said as she fixed how the veil hung around your shoulders admiring the details of the fabric. 

You smiled at your reflection, and shook your head. “Neither did I.”

You really didn’t. You were content to live your life on dragon back. You were content to die on dragon back, in fire and blood. But now the tides had shifted. You felt more reason to continue, more reason to live, a reason that was not revenge. 

Baela smiled as she looked at you in the mirror, “He certainly seems taken with you.” She’d only seen glimpses of he and you, but even in those moments, the look in his eyes told it all. 

You blushed and looked down, fidgeting with the pearls on your sleeve, “I must admit I am taken with him.”

She breathed a laugh, “I assumed as much. You’d never take a husband if he were not truly exceptional in your eyes.” She said with an amused tone.

You nodded, “Beat a Bracken to a bloody mess in the mudd over an insult against my name.” you said with a girlish smile on your face. 

Her eyes widened slightly, “Exceptional indeed.” she nodded. 

“How beautiful you look.” Your mothers voice chimed in unexpectedly, making you almost flinch. Her voice was soft, and her eyes looked like she just might cry seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. 

Baela looked to Rhaenyra and knew she wanted this moment to be alone with you. She bowed her head to her before leaving the room.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, fidgeting with the fabric, “It is not quite traditional for a Targaryen.” you noted. 

“No.” She said as she approached you. She placed her hands on your shoulders and looked at you in the mirror, smiling at how beautiful you looked. “Traditional for a Valyrian.” 

You did not say anything to the remark, but turned your head to your mother, “Have you met him yet?” You asked softly, “Benjicot?”

She shook her head, “I have not, I intend to do so as soon as I am able. But your grandsire says he seems quite loyal to you.” She said with a soft smile as she ran her hand over your hair that hid behind your veil.

You smiled though you tried to hide it, “He is.” you nodded. You looked back at yourself in the mirror, “Do you think it’s too much?” You fussed with the neckline of your dress, “I feel I look silly.”

“No. Not at all.” She said, still smiling as she took your face into her hands, “Skorkydoso biare aōha kepas sagon.” “How proud your fathers would be.” She spoke in High Velaryon. 

Her words though sweet made you feel melancholy, “I wish they could be here. I did not often think of my wedding as a girl. Though when I did, I imagined them, and Luke, Viserys, and Rhaenys. I imagined them all there.”

“My sweet girl.” She tried to comfort you, “You will have your mother, your brothers, your grandsire, your cousins who shall soon be your sisters.”

You shook your head, “Nyke jurnegon hae iā pirtir” “I look like a pretender.” 

Your mother huffed, “Iksā lopor se embar, ānogar se perzys.  Kesan rȳbagon daorun tolī hen bisa. Iksā iā Targārien, konir sagon mirre bona.” “You are salt and sea, blood and fire. I will hear nothing more of this. You are a Targaryen, that is all that matters.” 

You bit your lip, not knowing what to say. But soon your curiosity got the better of you. “Are the smallfolk you summoned arriving today?”

Her eyes softened, having sympathy for your grief, “Yes.” She soon became slightly defensive, “Do you disapprove of this as your brother?”

“No.” You lied. And tore the veil from your head off. “I mislike it. My fathers dragon being passed to someone I do not know. But we need more riders. I want revenge. I want you to win. So, whatever must be done.” You said reluctantly as you began to take off the gown you wore. 

Your mother, feeling guilty, tried to help you. She felt your skin, surprised at how warm you were, “You feel hot.” She said, worried you were ill. 

You shook your head, continuing to take off your gown, “I get angry when I think of it.” 

She did not know if you meant the war or the bastards and did not dare ask. “You should take to Silverwing.” She said, If she could not comfort you, perhaps your beast would. 

“I intend to.” You said stepping out of your gown. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you took to Silverwing in the sky, you and she danced over the sea. You practiced the same commands and movements again and again. You rode her, plunging her down, her feet and tail slashing against the surface of the sea. Just as you would in battle. You would get her low, and say the word… “Dracarys!” Her flames would envelop Criston Cole's armies, though only now they died out as they hit the water. Then you pulled her back up, and up, and up into the skies until you and she met the clouds. You were getting good at navigating through clouds, mist, and fog. You’d not allow Aemond to get any advantage over you.

Though soon again you and she twirled and glided back down. Weaving through the sky as you imagined the battle.

Though what you did not know was that Benjicot was watching your movements in awe of you. He leaned against the stone hedge that surrounded the cliftside of Dragonstone and allowed himself to get lost in you and Silverwings dance. So lost he’d not notice your mother approaching behind him. 

“My daughter is a skilled rider.” She said as she approached him.

Ben startled, turning to your mother and bowing his head, “Your grace.” he said respectfully. She waved her hand for him to relax. He looked back to you in the sky, “She’s magnificent.”

Rheynera nodded, “Silverwing was her great great grandmother's dragon. She is a beautiful and formidable creature, that is sure.” She said as she made her way to Benjicots side watching you in the sky. 

Ben looked at your mother, “I meant your daughter.” 

She looked at him, somewhat surprised “Yes, yes she is. She is also beautiful and formidable.” She said, breathing a laugh, “You and I will share a commonality.” She began, facing him. “I assume you have gathered by now, my daughter- the princess is a woman of strong will.” 

“Yes.” Ben said as he nodded with a smile

“I do not wish for my daughter to see war. I have lost my son, and I will not lose her.” She spoke as if she were giving Ben a mission of his own, “She is steadfast on accomplishing her revenge. That is what she is doing now. Preparing to burn green armies to ash.” She said as she looked towards you in the sky. “I fear her brother wishes to fight for his own pride. But she wishes to fight for revenge.” She looked back to Ben, “I am her mother. My word means little. She will obey my order as her Queen, but it will not settle the rage in her.” She looked at him hopefully, “Perhaps you can.” 

He looked at you for a moment, then back to Rhaenyra, “I am devoted to your daughter's safety. To her happiness. With the greatest of respect to your Grace, I’ll not prevent her from any action she wishes to take.” She felt somewhat surprised that a man of his status would openly disobey the word of the queen. But it made her happy that someone would do such a thing for her daughter. “However, I will try with all my being to ease that anger and bring her some kind of happiness.” He said before leaving. 

Rhaenyra stood there, unsure of what to make of this first encounter. But soon realized she was lucky, you were lucky, to be blessed with a man who’d do anything to please you. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Back in the castle, Jace found his mother in her council chambers. “I am unsure of him.” Jace said, weary of a newcomer to his family. Both in a time of war and treachery as well as the threat that he may only marry you to raise the status of his house. 

Rhaenyra shook her head softly, “He has embraced his role as her husband with great pride, warmth, and passion. A rare thing in political marriage.” She said defending him and you. 

Jace scoffed, “He beat a Bracken senseless. Hardly a marriage to mend ties with the Riverlands.” He argued back

“He defends her name with fierce loyalty, defends my name and yours.” She defended once again, “And we have mended ties with the Riverlands.” 

Jace sighed, “How can we be certain he can be trusted.” 

“He has given us no reason to not.” She shrugged, “He has shown unwavering respect and admiration. And a fierce loyalty to her protection and honor.” She looked to Jace with adoring eyes, “I would say you are simply protective of your sister’s heart, as you should be. Though I believe he may share that same protectiveness.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You sat up on top of a high hill, listening to the crashing of the waves and the loud breathing of Silverwing. You were watching the waves, waiting for the ship of Targaren Bastards to approach. You had a pit in your stomach, you did not want for this. You knew it would only add insult to injury. But you also knew it would be critical to your mother’s success in this war.

Though you could not sulk for very long before you heard the long grass of the hill rustling more than it normally did. As you turned around you looked and saw Benjicot as he pounced upon you. Wrapping his arms around you in a playful attempt to scare you. And it worked. You squealed as he took hold of you. But Silverwing let out a growl that made him let you down gently.

“Men should not sneak up on women!” You said breathlessly as you tried not to giggle. 

He bit his tongue as his hands found your sides again, though moving slowly as to not upset your protective beast, “Don’t act so coy after you sent such letters.” He said with a devious smirk. 

It was true, you and he had exchanged many letters since you returned to Dragonstone. Before you had sailed to get him you and he sent three private letters. Each more explicit than the next. You could not help it. He had given you a taste of mortal pleasure and you longed for so much more.

You smirked back at him, and shook your head. “That is no way to speak to a princess.” you teased. 

He cupped your chin with his hand, “My Princess.” He kissed your lips softly, and gently. As he pulled away he spoke again though this time more earnestly, “You rode valiantly.”

You blushed slightly, you did not know he was watching you ride, and you felt somewhat embarrassed. But you smiled, “Thank you, my Lord,” You pushed him off of you playfully, “or perhaps I should say my Prince now.” you teased as you continued to walk along the tall grass hills overlooking the ocean.

He followed after you, “You know I don’t like that title.” 

You nodded, looking back at him, “I know it riles you. Makes your blood hot.” You smirked at him. 

He ran after you once again, grabbing hold of your arm and pulling you into him, “Are you challenging me?” He asked with a lustful gaze. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, looking at him with big innocent eyes. “All good wives should challenge their husbands.”

He nodded and bit his lip as he came closer to you, “You are a constant challenge. Challenging my restraint, and my ability to protect your virtue.” He said his eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips to your neck. 

You ran your hands from his neck to his chest, then pressed your lips to his own, “Mmm…” You moaned into his lips as your hand continued to wander further down over his stomach. Making him groan softly into your lips as well. You grabbed hold of his cock through his breeches making his hiss and breaking your kiss. You looked at him with a mischievous grin, “Because I do not wish for my virtue to be protected.” You said as you pushed him back again and ran off again laughing at him. 

He growled under his breath as he ran after you. He tackled you to the ground but you overpowered him, flipping him onto his back. You took his wrists and placed him above his head pinning him down. He could have overpowered you back but didn’t. He enjoyed this view far too much. He smiled up at you breathless. “I think we’re a good match don’t you?” You said in a seductive tone. 

He bit his tongue and laughed, nodding, “A very good match.”

You leaned down and kissed him. “I missed you.” You said breathlessly between kisses and moans. “I kept all your letters, read them again and again.”

He groaned, he held your face as he passionately kissed you. “Your last letter near drove me mad, you know?”

You giggled to yourself quietly, “I hope you made good use of my smallclothes.”

He nodded, “I did.” He groaned and squirmed a bit, “I’m already getting hard thinking of it.” 

He was, you could feel it underneath your clothed cunt.

Ben put his hands firmly around your thighs, squeezing you tightly. It made you squeal. The sound of it made Silverwing stir from her slumber. Which in turn made Ben loosen his grip on you. Scared to upset your beast. 

You chuckled to yourself lowly, “Don’t worry about her.” you shook your head.

“Easy enough for you to say.” He scoffed, “If she thinks I’m harming you she’ll swallow me whole.” 

You laughed slightly amused by his fear, “No she won’t.” You shook your head, “She and I are bonded by old Valyria. She can feel what I feel. She knows I am not scared of you.” You tried to tell him but he was still not completely convinced. Though you were sure overtime he would see. You turned to Silverwing, “Silverwing, jikagon arghugon!” You commanded, and she flew off and away into the sky.

Ben looked up at you in awe of your abilities, “What did that mean?”

You looked back down at him, surprised that he would take such an interest, “Silverwing, go hunt.”

He sat up on his elbows, getting closer to you, “Teach me your language.” 

You smiled, it was a sacred language. One only taught to the noble and wealthy. But he was to be your husband, and your children’s father. “Vūjigon issa.” You said with a soft smile, 

“Vūjigon issa?” His pronunciation was not perfect, but good for someone just beginning to learn the language. “What did that mean?”

“Kiss me.” You said with lustful eyes, and he obeyed eagerly. Pulling your face to his and kissing you passionately. 

You could feel him hardening even more beneath you. You couldn’t help but rock yourself against it. The bulge of his breeches rubbed against your cunt in the most delicious way. He gripped onto the plush of your ass and helped you rub against him harder. Your moans into his mouth only encouraged his cock.

“You feel so good,” He moaned into your lips. 

“So do you.” You moaned back, you began to grind against his cock harder, rolling your hips into a rhythm, “I can feel you- throbbing.” You whimpered against his lips. 

He ran his hands through your dark hair, pulling it as you continued to rub against him, “If good wives challenge their husbands, you’ll be the best.” He wanted more than anything to take you right then. To tear the neckline of your dress and push up your skirts and fuck you like an animal would. 

He tried to keep himself in control but it slipped through his fingers for just a moment as he flipped you onto your back.

You moaned, and breathlessly you pleaded, “I want my husband to fuck me.”

He groaned, and shook his head, “I’m not your husband yet,” He was angry he had to wait so long to make you his in the eyes of the realm and the gods. “Ah it’s fucking torture. I need you to be my wife.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You need me to be your wife to fuck me?”

“How good of a husband can I be if I cannot protect my intended’s virtue?” He said with a grin, but his grin faded as he ran his hand against your cheek, “But I don’t need you to be my wife just so I can fuck you- I need you to be my wife because I love you.” 

The words slipped from his lips. You felt just as thrown off as he did. 

You’re eyes went wide, “You-” 

“I love you.” He asserted firmly. He had no doubt in his mind he loved you. Ever since he saw you on that beast. 

You smiled, a smile of pure bliss. “I love you.” You said back to him with loving eyes. 

You both let out a breath of relief, and laughed for a short while. He rested his forehead against your own and kissed you once before.

“Say it in Valyrian.” He asked with a smirk, 

“Avy jorrāela.” You said holding his face adoringly. 

“Avie jorraela.” His pronunciation was still not perfect but it was well enough. 

Your lips met once again, and he began to grind his cock into your clothed cunt again. The friction making him moan into your mouth, and you into his. You bit his lip in desperation, wanting so much more than he was giving you. 

You then rolled him back over onto his back. He laughed breathlessly for a moment before he was interrupted by a moan leaving his lips. 

As you kept rolling your hips and grinding against him, your hands went to the laces of your dress. Pulling them loose. Ben thought he might die when he saw your shoulders becoming further and further exposed. 

“We can’t-“ He shook his head frantically. 

“I know-“ You nodded, “Can we just do this? It feels so good-“ You said as you continued to moan.

As you kept going, your dress began to slip lower and lower. His eyes fixated on your body as your dress exposed your breasts, “Keep going-fuck! You’re so beautiful.” He knew he would be done soon enough. The sight of your body was enough to make him mad.

“I want you in me so badly.” You moaned, 

Gods you were driving him mad, begging so beautifully as you rocked against him, breasts bouncing. 

He moaned, “Fuck-I can’t- I want to but I, I can’t sully you.” His eyes went dark, “I’d kill any fucker who tried.” He growled possessively. 

“I love you bloody-” You smirked, but your smile was interrupted as your face contorted in pleasure again. “Qopsa” “Harder.” You moaned, and reached for his wrist. Pulling his hand to grab hold of your breast. Knowing he was too shy to do it himself.

He groaned, and you could feel him throbbing underneath you, “I’m going to-” 

You nodded, “I know, so am I.” You leaned over, practically laying on top of him as you continued to grind against him. You lips and his collided as you both reached your peak.

You rolled onto your back. Laying there side by side together trying to catch your breath. Ben rolled onto his side and propped himself up by his elbow as he looked over you.

“How did the Gods bless me with such a maiden?” He asked breathlessly with an absent minded smile.

You smiled back, and shook your head, “They blessed you with nothing. I chose you.” You said placing a hand on his cheek.

Ben took your hand that held his cheek, and brought it to his lips to kiss your palm “Then I must worship you.”

You looked over to the ocean, and noticed a ship approaching. You knew it was the one harboring the Targaryen’s that were about to risk their lives for a new life. You sat up, pulling up your sleeve over your shoulder. 

“We should head back.” Your demeanor changed. From one of relaxed bliss to one of contempt. 

He sat up, and began helping tighten the laces of your dress for you, “How do you feel about this?” He questioned gently. 

You shook your head, and sighed. As he finished with the ties you stood, “It matters not what I feel.”

He stood, and grabbed your wrist, “Of course it does. It does to me.” he asserted. 

You looked at him, and sighed. “My mother has been left with few options. Her choice is to win or die.” You shook your head, “Her choice is to win, or we all die. And I am not blind to the irony, I know I am no more deserving of a dragon than they are.” Ben wanted to interject and argue that point in the opposite direction but you continued, “So I must support this course of action though it tastes of ash and blood in my mouth.”

You tried to continue on, but he pulled you back once more, “I did not ask about the war. I asked about you.”

You looked down to the sea, at the ship approaching. “I tried to claim Seasmoke when I was ten and two.” You turned to Ben, “I had just lost my father and I wanted his dragon desperately. I thought if I had him, I’d have a bit of my father. So I snuck into the dragonpit.” He smiled at the thought of you doing that. “Perhaps it was too soon for him, or perhaps I was not ready but Seasmoke nearly killed me. He opened his jaws and readied himself to burn me. But Silverwing scared him off.” You looked down, shamefully, “I always thought he knew I didn’t have pure Valaryian blood.” Your tension began to rise, “If a bastard born from some silver haired Targaryen who spent too long in a pleasure house, would be able to claim him and I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, looking at Ben, “I mislike all of this. But I understand the order of things.” 

You finished as you continued on down the hill. Ben was not far behind. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You did not attend the claiming of the dragons. You knew it would be bloody. You also did not wish to seem as if you were enthusiastic about this plan of action.

Though with supper approaching, you figured you should probably know where your family was standing after this procession took place.

You wandered the halls of Dragonstone looking for Jace with Benjicot. Finally after some time you found your brother in the library sulking. You waved to Ben to stay outside the room as you entered. You knew you had to speak to him alone. 

“What was the outcome?” You spoke softly, not wanting to upset him further. 

He turned the page of his book angrily “Both dragons have been claimed. Seasmoke has been claimed. Claimed by some drunk old man they call… Ulf.” He said, in an attempt to make you as angry as he was. 

And it worked, you were mad. You didn’t give him the satisfaction however. “Stop pouting.” 

“I’m not pouting.” He said, flipping another page.

You scoffed, “You are pouting. Pouting as our mother awaits us.” You sat next to him, “You’re angry, I know it.” You said gently. 

“How are you not?” He looked at you with an annoyed demeanor. 

“I am angry. Angry that our family has been torn apart and burnt to ash. I want revenge and I support our mother.” You spoke softly but intently, needing him to understand why such action though unpleasant was critical. 

“They are an insult to us. To what makes us Targaryens. If any common lout can ride a dragon then-”

You interrupted him, “Speak for yourself, I am not common.” You stood and paced the room,

“You know what we are.” Jace said with a dark voice. 

You shrugged, “Everyone does. So why should I care.”

“Does your betrothed know?” He asked almost mockingly.

You stopped your pacing and looked at Jace, “Just as Baela knows.” You stepped closer to Jace, “You act as though we are the first noble bastards. I am the princess and you the crown prince. We are children of the rightful queen. And you sit here sulking over dragons and if not that then something else.” You took hold of Jace’s shoulder, “It is true we’ve must prove ourselves. We’ve to prove to the people we are worthy of the status our mother gave to us. So get up and take your place by our mother’s side.” 

And with that, you left him. You hoped you would see him for supper, but if not the House of the Dragon was going to be safe another day. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

As you began to walk down the hall, Ben followed closely. You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled at him. Your smile drove him mad. He playfully began to chase you once again. He was so close though it was hardly a chase. He grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you into him as his arm wrapped around your waist tightly and held you close. You gave in quickly and happily. Your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips met yours passionately as he lifted you with ease and spun you around in the hall. Uncaring of anyone who saw. 

He placed you down gently as his smiling lips continued to meet your own repeatedly as he pushed you against the stone wall. 

As your lips parted, you smiled softly and absent mindedly as you looked at him with loving eyes, “I did not think love would find me in such a sad world.” You said as you ran your thumb across the scar on his lip.

He shook his head as he looked at you with adorning eyes, “I’ll always find you.”

You bit your lip and looked at his, though you had kissed him a thousand times now you still hungered for more. And he shared that same hunger.

His lips and yours collided once more, in a passionate and loving embrace. Though the heaven that your kiss brought would soon be interrupted by the sounds of a man’s crude laughter echoing down the halls. 

Benjicot immediately looked down the hall, looking for anyone who might have disturbed you both. He pushed you behind him slightly, in an attempt to defend whatever threat might have been there.

You however furrowed your brows in annoyance, “What is that?” You asked as you pushed yourself away from Ben’s protection and continued to walk down the hall towards the laughter.

Ben of course followed closely behind. Soon you reached the council room where you heard the same voice speaking, “This is more like it, Hugh, don’t you think?”

You stood outside the room listening in more carefully.

Another voice beckoned out the room, “We’re meant to be at the training yards learnin’ the commands.”

The same voice as before once again called out, “Yeah, and I will go, but surely they’d not deny me my pleasure after so long. I may never eat fish again.” he replied. 

You entered the room angered. You knew these must have been the Targaryen bastards who claimed those sacred beasts. Your anger only grew as you saw them sitting at the council table.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes and storming into the room. You saw the man more clearly now, his feet sitting upon the council table. “Remove your feet from the table.” You spat at him. This man dared place his feet on your mothers table- sitting in your mothers seat. 

“I’d rather not.” The gray haired oafish old man said, refusing your command which only made your anger rise, and Benjicot’s anger rose.

The other man tried to correct his behavior, “Ulf-” 

Though you interrupted him, staring daggers at the man as you approached him, Ulf… The man who claimed Seasmoke, it made you hate it all the more, “It is not a matter of what you want.”

“What is it a matter of then, girl?” Ulf asked unabashedly. 

Benjicot grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword, “You dare speak to her like that?” he hissed at the gray haired bastard. 

Hugh attempted once again to knock sense into Ulf, “She’s the princess, Ulf. Princess (Y/N) Velaryon.” 

Immediately Ulf threw his feet down from the table and stood, “Princess (Y/N) Velaryon! Right here!” He said with great enthusiasm, it reminded you of Willem. “Who’d thought it?”

“You’re in her home.” Ben said with venom in his tone as he stepped closer to the man, “She’ll have an apology from you.” Benjicot sneered at the man.

“Ah! The young princess!” Ulf said with great excitement as he stepped closer to you, making Ben rush to your side as well, “Look at that hair!” Ulf tried to place his hand into your dark hair, though Ben’s hand grabbed Ulfs wrist before he could touch you. “As dark as they say.” He remarked. “Let them tell us we don’t have Targaryen blood, eh?”

Benjicot would not allow a man to question your parentage no matter if it were true or not. No matter if the man was a dragonrider or not. “Her mother is the queen and-”

“My niece. Dragonriders both.” He said as if he were reminiscing on your pasts together. You felt more angered by it, he did not know you and he was certainly not your family. Perhaps blood bound you together but not family. “You and I… cut from the same cloth.” You felt a sting of resentment. This is the man who claimed your fathers dragon dare call himself your uncle?

“You claiming Seasmoke was a sacred inheritance of which you know nothing.” You hissed at him. 

“Forgive him, princess. He is not much used to the manners of court.” Hugh said, attempting to remedy the growing tension in the room. 

“Or any fucking manners at all I’d say.” Benjicot said, still grasping hold of the hilt of his sword.

Ulf’s eyes finally left you, and landed onto Ben. “You must be her lad, eh?” He questioned mockingly with a grin. 

“I’m her husband to be.” Ben said protectively and proudly. 

“To be.” Ulf mocked in jest, though Ben did not find it amusing. 

But rather than allow Ben to spill blood of a man in your mother’s council room, spill the blood of a dragonrider whom you needed. You stepped forward and began to speak, “Do you know what has happened this last hour?” Your eyes bore into Ulf’s soul, and you stepped closer to him. “The so-called Prince regent has burned Sharp Point down to its stones. Thousands of its folk dead or lost. Its harbor has been reduced to ash.” Ulf swallowed hard, now understanding the gravity of his position, “Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy?” You sneered at him, “If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness I will allow my husband to do whatever he wishes with you.” You threatened and the room fell silent. 

Ben’s eyes stayed on Ulf, waiting for that apology. 

Ulf stammered before he finally spit out, “I meant no disrespect, my princess.” 

You nodded, “Best be on your way to the training yards then.” You tilted your head to get him moving. 

Ulf and Hugh then scattered and scurried off to the training yards as they were meant to.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

At supper, Ulf did not redeem himself in your favor. 

“More wine here!” He called out as if he were in a tavern at your mothers table. “Taming a dragon is thirsty work.” He said to the servant girl who served him his wine. As if to woo her, it made you roll your eyes in disgust, “Oh, and some more of these little birds.” He called out 

Your mother however wanted to turn the evening's conversation to a more suitable discussion. “A toast to my daughter, and her intended Lord Benjicot Blackwood. Benjicot who shall soon be a Velaryon, and my daughter who shall soon be a bride. You shall be married soon and I know you both will find great happiness and joy.” She said as she stood raising her cup to you and Ben. Ben felt honored, and undeserving of this. He raised his cup to you instead. You smiled and raised your cup. Your cousins and brother did the same, though Jace was still pouting.

“You’re taking ‘er name?” Ulfs voice rang out again. 

Ben turned his head down to the end of the table where Ulf sat. “It is a great honor for my children to inherit the name, Velaryon.” He practically hissed though he tried to maintain his manners at the queen’s table.

Though this tension would be cut as Rhaenrya began again, “A toast. To our new riders. The two of you, are not of noble birth, but you have done a thing never dreamed of before now. I have entrusted you with a power only few have known. And I charge you to take it up with fealty and respect. Serve me well and I will make you knights of the realm.” She said wanting to honor but warn them.

“Huh? What do you think of that? We’ll be knights… just like that.” Ulf said, lacking tact as usual. 

Hugh grimaced at Ulf’s words, then turned to the queen, “We will not fail you, my queen. What will you have us do?” He asked

“We must strike while we have the advantage.” She responded 

“What about Vhagar?” Hugh asked, clearly weary of going against such a large dragon.

Your mother shrugged, “She is fearsome but she is one dragon, and we have seven. She cannot take on us all.”

“I’ll take her by myself. Seasmoke’s a goer he is. We’re afraid of nothing.” Ulf said arrogantly, making you roll your eyes. 

“Ondoso zȳhon nyke emagon zirȳla zūgagon hen nykeēdar.” “By his stench I would have thought him fearful of water.” You said under your breath only for Baela to hear. From the little Velaryon you had taught Ben he picked up enough of what you said to have to hold in a laugh. 

“I said more of these little birds!” Ulf called out loudly commanding the servants again.

“A knight will conduct himself with grace at the Queen’s table.” Your mother attempted to subtly correct his behavior. 

“Best make me a knight then.” Ulf attempted to jest.

“You forget yourself, Ulf.” Jace threatened as he leaned into the table. 

“A sense of humor could do you all good.” Ulf said awkwardly as he drank from his cup.

Ben leaned closer to you, “I think you’re quite funny.” he whispered in your ear. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After supper you walked with Ben through the halls of Dragonstone.

“That's the man who claimed my dead father’s dragon?” You huffed, “I had hoped for whore or a tavern wench.” You were not jesting, this was certainly the worst case scenario. 

“Do you want me to kill him?” Ben asked, also not jesting. 

You looked at him and smiled, “No.” You shook your head, “I’ll leave that to Vhagar.” 

“Vhagar…” Ben said, thinking of the large beast.

“Silverwing could kill Vhagar.” You said, getting lost again in the fantasy of your revenge.  “And I could kill Ameond.”

Ben took your wrist, making you stop on your tracks. 

He sighed, not wanting to ask what he was about to ask you, “You won’t fly to war will you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You don’t believe I could do it?”

“If it were you and Ameond, I know you could. But when your dragons meet, it is not a matter of skill or strength.” He wanted to reason with you 

You shook your head, about to continue walking, “I just have to go for her neck. Like she did Arrax.” 

Ben took you by your arm and forced you to stop, “I’ll go to war. Kill every green I see. I’ll roar and rampage in the name of your revenge.” His eyes were wide, he was desperate, “I’ll bring Kings Landing to your feet.” He vowed it to you, “I’ll never command you to do anything, never forbid you to do anything. I’ll give you my own sword to ride your beast into battle. But, I keep thinking of it. Being in battle and looking up to seeing you overhead on your beast. I am overcome with pride and admiration but should the greens shoot you down, or Vhagar prevails- I have to beg you selfishly. You’re the only woman I want, the only one I’ve ever loved, the only one I’ll ever love. If you are harmed, or worse I will burn all of Westeros to its soil and me with it.” 

You wanted to laugh, not knowing how to respond. You shook your head again, “You’re not my slave-” 

“I am.” He got down on one knee, “Willingly- happily.” He said as he took your hand, “There’s not a single fucking thing I wouldn’t do at your command. Not a thing I wouldn’t give you.” His eyes were filled with emotion, “Not a thing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, happy. If that means massacring Cristan Cole and his armies I will do it. If it means shooting down Vhagar I’ll do it. If it means watching you in battle, so be it. But I beg you- stay.”   

You looked down at him, “Ben.” you were at a loss for words.

“Tell me what you wish and I’ll not stop you. I’ll not speak another word of it.” He said assertively. 

“I can lean on you?” You asked gently and softly. 

“Completely.” He said without hesitation, assertively and without doubt.

You hesitated, but then nodded, “Alright.” You sniffed, holding in tears, “Alright.” You nodded, not wanting to 

“Av-ey jorraela.” He attempted to pronounce it though it was not perfect. 

You exhaled a sharp laugh, holding in your tears. You held his face in your hands, “Avy jorrāela.”

Note:

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@callsignwidow

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Need asoiaf fans to be disabused from the notion that anyone “deserves” the Iron Throne. Not a single person deserves it, doesn’t matter how good they are. And I’d take it a step further and say that no one deserves to be king or queen or lord. We shouldn’t be equating kingship/queenship with a happy ending. This series does so much to criticize this awful system so it’s particularly jarring that people will go “I want my fave to get their happy ending and sit on the iron throne”. That’s…kind of antithetical to what the series has shown us so far I think.