#i will happily talk about the baratheons all day long

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Unconsummated -Aemond T.

Aemond finds himself quickly falling in love during the week long celebration of Aegon and Helaena’s wedding. Sadly his perfect lady is already married to a Baratheon. Happily, the idiot has yet to consummate their marriage as he never wanted to marry Y/n Arryn in the first place.

Aemond sets out to take the sweet girl for himself and he will not take ‘No’ for an answer…

It was much too loud for her tastes.

Y/n’s husband lived for parties like this, being honored that he was invited to the wedding of Aegon and Helaena and enjoying himself in every way he could. He was drunk 10 minutes after the ceremony and would be for the entirety of the next 6 days that the week long party went on for.

Y/n left the room as soon as it was acceptable for her to do so, her husband being locked on another noble woman, one who would happily spread her legs for him in a dark hallway later that night and she could do without the embarrassment of that. She ended up locating the library on her walk through the castle and she couldn’t help but stop. The room was huge, 10x the size of her husbands library as his father, his fathers father and on and on before had never been able to read (and neither could her husband).

He forced her to read all of his ravens to him in private as if he believed that no one was aware that he couldn’t read them himself. Y/n ended up knowing quite a lot about the houses and their leaders, her husband threatening to kill her if she ever breathed a private word of it. She was privy to quite a bit of sensitive information because of his illiteracy, knowing that many houses had secretly sworn to follow Aegon as the true born King or people like her husband who were sworn to Rhaenyra as the King commanded. She honestly didn’t care who ran the realm, all Y/n cared about was her small life, her duties, and her children (of which her husband didn’t seem to care to give her). He was too busy with his whores to give her a child.

She found herself a book that interested her, it was a book on High Valyrian which she had always wanted to learn. She had been teaching herself for only about 20 minutes before she heard a throat clear and she jumped up in fear, the book landing on the floor as her eyes met with one purple one staring back at her.

‘My Prince! I am so sorry! I did not know anyone would be here while the celebration went on…’

He stared at her for a moment before responding. ‘No reason to apologize, I understand more than anyone not wanting to celebrate with drunken strangers.’

‘Thank you for your hospitality…I will leave you be then-‘

‘No!’ He insisted, startling her a bit. ‘I’m sorry, I mean no, you don’t need to leave. Please, sit.’ He moved to take the seat beside her, picking up her book and looking at it before smiling. ‘Teaching yourself High Valyrian? Impressive…I am Aemond by the way, might I know my beautiful company’s name?’

‘Y/n Baratheon, my Prince. It is an honor.’

The two of them spent the next 3 hours by the fire in the Library just talking. They got to know each other very well and Aemond even gave her her first lesson in High Valyrian which he admitted she was a quick study at. It wasn’t until Aemond asked about her family that any of their conversation became uncomfortable.

‘You’re married to the eldest Baratheon son, are you not? I knew he had a wife but I did not know he had brought her with him while he-’ Aemond stopped himself as if he was unsure if she knew what her husband was up to.

‘I am aware of his indiscretions. It is how he has always been, nothing to concern yourself with my Prince.’ Aemond’s face was stoic as always but she sensed sympathy like she got from most other people. ‘He never wanted to marry me, his father wanted my name and the alliance of certain supporters. He had hoped marrying me to his son would stop his…activities and make him happy to have a family…he has no interest in such things however and I am left 6 months after our marriage unloved and childless…I’m sorry…you don’t care about that.’ She laughed though Aemond could tell it was hollow.

‘Your husband is an idiot if he does not want you my lady. I have known you for mere hours and I know that you are a smart, kind hearted girl without a judgmental bone in your body. You would be a good mother, of that I am sure.’ Aemond had no clue where that came from. Seeing this girl all alone and feeling unloved was breaking his heart…what is she doing to him?

‘Thank you my Prince, you are too kind.’

Y/n retired not long after, in bed hours before her husband joined her, collapsing into the bed in his clothes and for once she did not move to take care of him, Y/n left him in his clothes and on his chest in the bed.

Her days went on like that for most of the week. She would have breakfast and enjoy a walk in the gardens before finding her way to the library again and spending the rest of the entire day with Aemond. They both made an appearance at the party every night as was expected before abandoning the noisy, drunken mess and enjoying each others company again.

Aemond continued teaching her Valyrian and they could hold conversations now (albeit simple ones) as she was a fast learner. He also told her all about Vhagar, loving her interest in his dragon where most ladies were terrified.

She had raged when he told her of how he really lost his eye, furious that his nephew would do such a thing, all of them. She also condemned the ladies in the court who had made Aemond feel ugly just because of his injured eye. She swore to the heavens that he was one of if not the most beautiful man she had ever seen and she would not take his negative words into account.

Aemond had quickly come to love Y/n and she loved him as well, they both knew but neither of them crossed the line to say it. Though as her husband had never consummated their marriage Aemond had decided that he was going to ask his father to annul the marriage so that he could marry her instead. It would be a good match for his family, Y/n originally being an Arryn, and he knew that her father would take insult from the Baratheons for not taking care of his daughter or making their marriage legal. He was determined to convince her that night, the second to last day of the celebration, however his soon to be Princess never arrived.

Aemond waited for over an hour before searching the party. He found her husband, nearly as drunk as Aegon and with his tongue down a ladies throat but Y/n was not there.

He then left the castle and walked the gardens in search of her as he knew she enjoyed the Red Keeps gardens. After about 5 minutes he found her sitting on a wall overlooking the beach.

‘You are difficult to find, my dear.’ She jumped, turning slightly but not looking at him, turning back to the view.

‘I am sorry my Prince. I have enjoyed our time together but it must come to an end, please forgive me but I wish to be left alone now.’ He was stunned, unsure of how to respond but knowing that he wasn’t about to leave her like this.

‘Whatever I have done, please forgive me Byka Zokla? I do not-‘ (Little Wolf)

‘You have done nothing my Prince! It is I who is in the wrong. I have led you to believe that we could be friends and that was wrong of me. My job is to be there for my husband and I have not been doing my duty-‘

‘Your duty? What about him? He has not taken care of you as is his job as your husband and protector! You’re not waiting on him hand and foot anymore so he is upset, yes? Please? Do not push me away Y/n, I can help you to-‘ he cut himself off as he turned her head to make her look at him and he finally saw what she was hiding from him. Her right eye was black and blue, her bottom lip was split in 2 places and her throat was bruised, clearly in the shape of hands. ‘Oh my Love! No! This will not stand! Come with me.’ He insisted, holding out his hand. She hesitated but he looked down at her softly, giving her time to decide. ‘Trust me?’ After another few seconds Y/n took his hand and allowed him to whisk her off and they arrived in the Small Councils meeting room where the Queen walked in not a moment later having been fetched by a guard for her son.

‘Aemond…what is the meaning of this?!’ Alicent snapped, storming over to the girl and seemingly thinking that her son had done it but she changed her tune when the girl flinched away and hid behind him instead.

‘Mother. This is the girl I spoke to you about, her husband has proved…ungallant. I wish to take her as my bride.’ Alicent was looking over his ladies face when she fully understood what he had said and jerked her head up.

‘My son, she is married already. You cannot just take another man’s wife, even as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You-‘

‘Their marriage has not been consummated.’ She stopped speaking and looked between them in shock.

‘Well…that changes things…she will need to testify it to the King and he will need to annul the marriage before anything else can happen. It will take time. I will speak to the Hand and start the process for it, we will find a room for her here to keep her safe from now on.’ Alicent turned to Y/n and held out her hand. ‘Come, let’s get you out of those dirty, bloody clothes and put you to bed.’

‘I will come and say “Goodnight” in a bit. You have a bath and relax…I will take care of you, I promise.’ Aemond swore, kissing her hand and watching her blush before she walked off with his mother.

Aemond straightened himself as she left the room and turned to head back to the party where he almost immediately found the man he was looking for.

Y/n’s husband was holding a full goblet of wine with his arm around a ladies waist looking quite content. Aemond moved beside him to grab himself a cup of wine, purposefully causing the idiot to bump into him.

‘Fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He laughed obnoxiously and Aemond found himself wondering how Y/n ever stood being around him at all.

‘Evidently.’ He rolled his eyes and could instantly see that this man didn’t appreciate the action.

‘You may be a Prince but you’re still only a second son, and no where close to Daddies favorite. Watch yourself. I am the head of Storm’s End and soon enough the Vale, you are nothing and even less than that without your Dragon behind you.’ The man was clearly drunk as fuck but Aemond was happy with that. It would make this easier…

Aemond smirked as he leaned in close, the young Tully girl that he had had on his arm long gone, not willing to upset a Prince, let alone the one eyed prince himself. ‘I fucked your wife.’ He mumbled, close enough that only he could hear and he absolutely did.

‘What the fuck did you say?’ He snarled, eyes nearly catching fire in his instant rage but Aemond stayed calm. He needed to control himself for this to work.

‘I fucked…your wife…Gods knows you weren’t doing it. Such a lonely girl, desperate for a man’s affection and all she was given was an insolent child. It’s pathetic. Don’t worry though, soon enough she will be raising my son and she won’t be worried about you anymore.’ The boy was practically shaking in his rage, fists clenched and men were beginning to take notice, several of the women moving to alert the guards so Aemond would need to do this quickly. ‘Give it 9 months and everyone will know exactly who your wife strayed from you with, the silver haired boy suckling on her tits will be evidence enough. I’m sure with enough words to the King I can ensure my son will inherit all of your lands when you die. Too bad you weren’t man enough to impregnate her yourself or y-‘ He was finally cut off by a truly pathetic punch to his face but he played into it, falling dramatically to the ground and biting his tongue, spitting blood out to make it seem worse than it had been.

He was grabbed instantly and held back from coming at Aemond again who smirked up at him, the boy only seeming to now realize what had happened. ‘Chain this drunken fool and take him to the Black Cells for-‘

‘No!’ Aemond snapped, cutting off his Grandsire. ‘It was me that he assaulted and as a Prince of the realm it is my decision what happens to him.’ He declared and though Otto looked at him strangely he nodded nonetheless. He reached out, grabbing the collar of the drunk and yanked him forward, dragging him from the party and outside through the front gate.

‘Aemond-‘

‘He dies tonight, would you like to argue?’ The one eyed Prince hissed at his Grandsire who knew not to argue with him in this state.

Vhagar peeked her eyes open at the sound of men approaching her beach, seeing her rider dragging along a man that was trying very hard to get away or hurt him making her bare her teeth and hiss instantly.

‘Dokimarvos Vhagar! Umbās!’ He spoke to her and she sat her head up and waited for her rider to speak. *Pay Attention Vhagar! Wait!*

‘This is a message to anyone that thinks to defy me or Gods forbid, harm the people I care about. I am not merciful, you can find mercy with my family but not here. Anyone who wants to disagree with this will not end up in the Black cells, but with my Dragon as their punishment!’ Aemond ignored Otto who was trying to stop his rushed decision. ‘Dohaerās Vhagar! Kisās!’ *Obey Vhagar! Eat!*

Everyone watched on as the giant she-dragon lifted her head over the abusive asshole and opened her mouth wide before chomping down on the man and seeming to swallow him whole which had several people screaming and one man actually fainting.

Aemond was proud of himself, he had saved his girl and it barely took an hour.

He quickly made his way back into the Red Keep and up to the room that he knew his mother had put his soon-to-be wife in. As he entered, knocking softly as to not frighten her, he saw her in a sleep shift and he couldn’t help but stare. His girl was beautiful and she was going to be all his now.

‘Did you have a nice bath?’ He asked, moving to pull the blankets back for her and enjoying her soft blush as she crawled into the bed.

‘It was very relaxing. I’ve never had servants to wash me like that before.’ She teased, though Aemond was surprised by that.

‘You are a lady, are you not? How-‘

‘My mother took care of us as children and when we grew she insisted that we were able to bathe ourselves. My husband however, did not want anyone seeing me in a state of undress…it was strange but nice I suppose. A lady could get used to such treatment.’ Her soft laugh was everything Aemond loved as he reached out and cupped the side of her face.

‘You will get used to it. You are to be my wife, and my wife will have the best of everything. I will bathe you myself if it brings you happiness.’ He teased her, kissing the side of her head before standing again. ‘Get some sleep my lady, no one will bother you, you have my word-‘

‘Will you stay?’ She asked and though he was startled he did not let it show, knowing she was still probably feeling afraid after all that had happened, especially now that she’s in a strange place that she’s sure to never leave again. She would need to get used to being his and knowing that she is completely safe here, she would learn to trust what he said when he told her that he would never let anyone harm her again-let alone another husband. Aemond removed his shoes and coat, as well as his weapons before crawling onto the other side and feeling her head rest on his shoulder. He was careful not to touch any of her injuries as he let her drift off to sleep. He knew his mother would be upset at his sleeping here but he didn’t care. Y/n would be his wife by the weeks end and he would give her everything that bitch of a “husband” could not.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

[bucknastysbabe]

For your health, of course

Aegon II x Baratheon Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff and smut, wg progression, CHONK!Aegon, hand feeding, belly kink, infertility/fertility issues, post!Dance au, they’re in love and everything is perfect okay, health issues, oral sex (m!receiving), hand jobs, mentioned fingering and cunnilingus

A/N: I almost put this on my other blog but fuck it I don’t consider this too The Other Kink to not post. Me love thick men thanks @lovelykhaleesiii for the plot ideas

Aegon came back to the throne skinny, sickly, and surly. He was irritated from the shattered bones and having to rule over an even more shattered kingdom he never wanted in the first place.

You were his new wife, married quickly after he had returned. Aegon liked having you around, requesting you stay by his side at all times. The Dowager seemed to be annoyed as she couldn’t get her son alone to debate how to navigate the still burning coals of war.

You tried to get to know him better, idly chatting away as he drank strongwine. Aegon hollowly stared at you one day and said, “I have nothing to talk about, I like listening to you.” So you had to start bringing books in for entertainment. But the feeling of something missing was in the back of your mind.

Staring at a painting of Aegon on his coronation day brought forth what.

The young king in that photo was robust, handsome, and definitely well fed. You couldn’t do anything about the scars…but maybe some flesh on his bones would help with aches and pains. The Targaryen rarely ate, preferring to drink or sip on soup.

So at your nightly private dinner you ordered the servants to bring heavier options, meats and sweets, bread and pudding. Aegon eyes widened and he grumbled, “I can’t possibly eat that.” You moved to the seat closest to him and prodded, “Why not? You look like a wandering septon.”

Violet eyes turned up at you. He stared at the feast and his mouth twisted slightly. Aegon bitterly remarked, “Because that’s what the Maester told me. Gods, I’m a buffoon. They just want me weak and drunk all the time!” He threw his hands up in anger, cursing himself.

You smiled sweetly, forking a piece of ham to his still frowning mouth, “Eat up then, this will make you stronger.” Aegon opened and took a generous bite, moaning around the flavor. You hummed, “Good. You’ll be feeling better in no time, my lord husband. Show them how wrong they were.”

It was off to the races by that exact moment. Aegon’s notorious appetite of his youth had returned, ten-fold. He requested large feasts for every meal, even beginning to invite some of the lords milling around the place to break up their plotting.

Aegon would often be exhausted after a particularly long day, forcing himself around on that cane in the Keep. He’d plop down in a comfortable chair and you’d hand feed him, cooing, “You’ve worked so hard today, just let me take care of you.”

He would sigh, “You’re too good to me.”

You’d happily do this every second if it got him to smile, that rare, beautiful smile. He’d relax and drink and eat, opening diligently for whatever he dictated you’d bring to his mouth. You didn’t know if you loved him yet, but this made you feel very…warm inside.

You were doing needlepoint next to Aegon, who watched the Blackwater wistfully. He munched on some honey cakes and grapes, having developed a habit for keeping his mouth occupied. You had a feeling the morsels kept him grounded from whatever hellish memories kept the king up at night.

The Dowager Queen entered the chambers, stiff and dressed in black. A new Kingsguard stood behind her, aloof as ever. She delicately perched on a seat, staring at you two. Aegon grumbled, “What is it mother? More spies under the keep? Cregan Stark is on the spires?”

Her pretty mouth thinned, looking so much like Aegon. Alicent wrung her hands together and said, “No, nothing of that sort. I wanted to say you look healthier. Maybe the Maester could check your, ahem, potency soon.” Aegon dramatically groaned around a lemon cake, “Always an ulterior motive, yes! In front of my darling wife.”

You stated, “I do not wish to injure him trying to copulate. I feel this is a private matter between the Maester and us, My Queen.”

She huffed, “Do please meet with them soon, we need an heir.”

Poor Jaehaera was scarcely considered, the child strange and gloomy. Aegon tried his best, the girl often climbing into your shared bed weeping, your husband trying to console her. She was shy of you, but had warmed up some when the princess saw you make Aegon laugh.

After Alicent had left Aegon shoved another lemon cake down his throat. He murmured between smacks, “I don’t trust the gods damned maesters. Not one.” You grabbed his scarred hand and promised, “I’ll be right there with you. I- I’d love to have a child of yours, if the gods allow for it.”

His violet eyes grew glossy and he rasped, “Fine. We go to them on the morn, my sweet.”

Aegon was flushed and very aggravated in the Grand Maester’s quarters. You knew he was self conscious about the scarring and the withered leg he refused to rid of. A blanket lay over his lap, him looking down sullenly. You sat in a corner of the room, hands folded in your lap.

He’d gained some weight, you’d noticed that now that you saw his pale and scarred flesh in the buff. Where ribs once poked through was a soft layer of padding, a small roll creasing his tummy. His arms were more built from the cane, but you could see a bit of softness. Aegon’s hips had flared out.

Heat settled on your cheeks. Your husband looked very good, soft and sweet. You couldn’t help but imagine how more flesh would sit on his delicate Targaryen bones. The jingling of chains alerted the pair of you, the old Maester shuffling in. You relocated to Aegon’s side, holding a hand. He looked up at you and murmured, “You may not want to see this.”

Hardening your gaze you stated, “You’re my husband, I will cherish every bit of you.”

Your heart fluttered watching the stress dial down across his body. Aegon pulled your palm to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss. Orwyle rasped, “So we need to check on fertility, hm?” Aegon snapped, “Why else would I be here? Obviously she’s not broken and burnt.”

The Maester chuckled softly, used to the King’s outbursts. He murmured, “Lay back, I need to check you.” Aegon reluctantly leaned back, closing his eyes tight as Orwyle pulled back the blanket. You stared at the withered leg, frowning in sadness. His other leg, although still healing, had thickened up slightly.

“I see you’ve been having a healthy appetite again,” he noted.

“Because my darling wife cares about me and my health. My aches have lessened.”

“Mhm. Yes.” Aegon gritted his jaw as his cock and sac was felt and checked. Orwyle noted, “You’re producing sperm, but no copulation. We must get your seed and artificially enter it in the Queen.” You spoke, “Can we do this act in private? Ah- the collection part?”

Orwyle waved a gnarled hand, “Yes, of course, I will have to inseminate you quickly after.”

Awkward visit over, Aegon was struggling on his cane, sitting down on a bench with a huff. You nuzzled into his soft hair, teasing, “Not too bad. I have heard the seed takes better when the woman has had her own release.” The king laughed deeply, “Oh, I’ll take care of you. Make Orwyle cover his ears for a bit.”

You pecked his sweet lips, humming. Your hand skated down to his belly, just slightly straining the fabric that once hung off his frame. With a purr you commented, “You are looking very healthy and handsome my lord.” He looked wide eyed at you, eager for some sort of praise, “You think so?”

“Yes, no longer on death’s doorstep, but we’ve got a long way Hm?”

He agreed heartily, belly rumbling as if on cue. More and more eating processed, Aegon seeming to grow more confident with the extra padding. You made sure your husband didn’t have to lift a finger, feeding and pampering him, washing and helping him dress.

Add the lack of mobility and Aegon’s tendency to travel by litter— the weight had piled on much faster than expected. Far exceeding what that original painting you’d scene. But instead of disgust, you grew aroused at his increasing weight and happier moods.

The first few sessions of ‘collection’ were definitely arousing. You’d grope and knead at fatty flesh, hand running tight strokes around his cock. One session he’d busted his doublet after eating a meal and squirming around your slick fist. You’d quivered and came watching his thick belly poke out between shredded fabric, riding Aegon’s scarred fingers.

One cane turned to two to support his heavier weight. You’d ever heard servants complaining about how heavy the King had gotten. He seemed to not pay any mind nor register any weight.

Laying in bed together one night, you idly stroked his swollen belly, bloated with mead and meats of all sorts. This was a far cry from the slim layer of fat lining his body. Aegon’s cheeks thickened, jaw softened, chest swollen. You marveled at his fat sides and rapidly growing stomach. And do not get you started on watching his one thigh grow wobbly and thick.

“Should I cut back on the food,?” he asked.

You raised your brows, replying, “Why do you say that my love?”

“Mother said I’ve gotten rotund, that it’s unseemly.”

You frowned and curled tighter into his soft side while humming, “You look good, happy, and so very arousing to me. A king doesn’t need to change for anyone.”

Aegon eyed you, chin settled into his pudge. He raised a brow and asked, “Arousing you say?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, squeezing that belly you worked so hard on. The blonde laughed, “Little harlot, you like feeding your king don’t you?”

You blushed, caught unaware by Aegon’s blunt statement.

“Well?”

You shifted against him a bit, growing hot under his heavy gaze. In a small voice you spoke, “Oh, you’ve outed me Aeg. I love it, so much. You look so good, properly fat like a king should be. Shouldn’t have to do a damn thing but order the realm.”

He smiled again, cheeks bunching up. Aegon kissed you passionately, hand greedily reaching to your breast, kneading expertly. You moaned into his mouth, shifting to lay half atop of his mass. You pressed onto his belly, making the poor thing wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said.

He shook his head and kept kissing you, tongue lapping you up. Your hand crept down his pale belly, passing now faded stripes to get at his cock. Aegon moaned lowly into your mouth at the contact of your hand. You murmured, “Can I taste you tonight my lord? Please?”

Aegon sighed, “Oh fuck, yes, gods.”

You yanked back the covers, exposing Aegon’s plumping cock, fighting hard to stay up against his generous lower belly. Aegon’s hand laid at the nape of your neck possessively, giving it a squeeze. He panted, “C’mon dear, yes, so good to me.”

You grabbed onto the base, lapping at his ruddy head, tonguing the slit eagerly. Aegon moaned and shifted, stuck under his still gurgling belly. Easing your lips you swallowed him down until he was at the back of your throat, bobbing while your hand got the rest. The other hand was massaging his balls.

Aegon moaned your name again, pudgy fingers scrabbling at your neck. He incoherently rambled nonsense, lazily attempting to buck his hips but quitting when you slapped a fleshy hip. You needn’t have your husband upset his fragile bones trying to fuck your throat.

Keeping up an easy pace you savored the moment, soaking up every moan whimper or cry. You pulled back up to pay special attention to his sensitive cockhead, Aegon’s belly rolling as he squirmed. He cried, “Close- fucking seven hells- angel!”

You flicked your tongue across the slit harder, Aegon losing composure and tearing at your locks of hair. You moaned in ecstasy, greedily swallowing down his spend until your husband was whining and pulling you off.

Wiping the back of your mouth you hummed, “Splendid.”

Aegon, catching his breath, panted, “Get over here so I can get my own. Now.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Aegon leant back in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the Blackwater, fingers digging into a bowl of candied sweets. His frame certainly filled out the chair now, heavy sides lipping over the arm rests. You were vibrating with excitement, holding back a smile.

The king stopped his munching to stare at you. He asked, “What’s got you all giddy?” With an excited squeak you moved to lay between his legs, head padded on his stronger one. Aegon’s thick fingers found their way into your hair, scritching idly. He asked again, temper almost on the edge, “Have a jest my lady? C’mon, out with it now.”

Looking up with a beam you chirped, “I’ve missed my moon blood two times now. Orwyle says I am with child!” Aegon’s face was a flurry of emotions— confusion, realization, happiness, then tears. He rasped, “Truly? You are pregnant?” Tears streamed from his pretty eyes, wide with glee.

“Yes, yes!,” you cried.

Aegon grasped at you, pulling you up and closer, an awkward angle but you liked being near to his soft flesh. He kissed you passionately, rambling breathlessly, “Gods be good, I- I can’t believe it.” You nuzzled his nose, warbling, “It’s a miracle. Oh Aegon, I am overjoyed!”

He pulled back, scarred hands holding your face, “We must plan a grand feast, a tourney, something! You’re eating for two now.”

You teased back tearily, “You’ll be eating for three then, yes?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, laughing softly. Maybe the Targaryen’s could rise above the shambles of the realm. This was a new start, a new seed.

[fanfictiongirlie]

A Song of Sun and Snow - Chapter Six

Click here for Masterlist

Parings: Robb Stark x Baratheon Reader

Description: You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him.

Rating: Explicit (Eventually)

Words: 3,089

P.s: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. No use of Y/N. Only description of 'reader given: the fact that she doesn't look like Joff, Myrcella and Tommen (It's hinted she truly is Robert and Cersei's child) Not much though. Like one line. I wrote this in a different style to my usual style, using 2nd person. Hope it's okay. P.s there will be pregnancy in this, the 'reader' wants to have children. Also the ages are completely different in this fic then they are in the show/book.

In the morning, you had your handmaidens dress you in far more layers than you were used too, it was a little uncomfortable, but you dealt with it. You left your room and managed to walk through the castle finding Robb, along with his younger siblings, they were all laughing and talking. 

Robb sat on the floor with little Rickon on his lap, whilst Bran and Arya argued over some toy, and Sansa sat talking away to her older brother. Robb was laughing happily when he looked up to see you, he smiled widely. 

"Good morning" You say happily walking further into the room. 

"Good morning princess. Sleep well?" Robb asks. 

"Wonderfully, thank you, what are you lot up too?" You ask crouching down to sit by Robb. Bran who noticed you had joined shuffled over climbing onto your lap. You cuddled the seven year old close to you, holding him close to your chest. 

"Oh nothing special, talking, playing" Robb responded, he looked from you with Bran in your lap, to him with Rickon, it made him imagine you holding and playing with a child of his own. He pushed the thought away. 

"Ready for our ride into the woods?" You ask, excited. 

Can I come?" Bran asks, looking up at you. 

"Maybe next time, little one" You responded, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. "Ready, Robb?"

Robb nodded and you both lifted the boys off your laps and stood, he took your hand and you both walked to the stables together. You smile widely when you saw your horse, you rush over to him and hug his face close to you. You both mount your horses and set off to the woods of Winterfell. 

Robb walked alongside you, your horses walking together as you go deeper into the woods, there was snow everywhere, it wasn't heavy on the ground, but it was enough to cover most of the ground in whiteness. The trees were nothing like the ones at home, these trees were purples and orange, unlike the green you knew. 

"It's beautiful" You whisper, as you look around. Robb nodded, his eyes on you, not on the woods. He was watching the way you moved your horse so smoothly, you looked so damn pretty, everything about you was so perfect, so beautiful. He just wanted to stop now, to pull you off your horse, to pull you against him and kiss you, to touch you...

"I've had my wedding dress made with a special request" You say, breaking the silence. 

"Oh? And what request was that, princess?" He asks. 

"You don't get to know that, not until the day" You answer, smirking widely. 

"And how come I don't get to know right now?" 

"Because it'd ruin the surprise!" You giggle softly. 

"No chance of you giving me a hint?" He asks, his beautiful blue eyes on you. 

"Okay...the request, it was something I had only noticed when we became friends, and I had my dress made to always remind me of it" I say smiling, a small blush crept onto my cheeks, luckily the cold of the crisp air hid it well. You watch as Robb's eyes shoot up in surprise, you could tell he was trying to work out what it was. 

"And I have to wait until the wedding to find out?" He asks, a small faked sigh leaving his lips. 

"You only have a few days" You say as you playfully roll your eyes. You looked around, the woods went on forever, there were trees upon trees, it was wonderful, you could definitely see yourself eventually loving Winterfell, with all it's beauty. It felt calmer than Kingslanding, you found the only things you were missing was the golden sun on your skin. 

"I'm so cold" You say quietly, you stopped your horse and climbed off him. Robb copied your movements, getting off his horse. He walked over to you, his eyes roaming over your shivering body. He grabbed his cloak off his body and wrapped it around yours, the heavy fur hopefully would be enough to warm you. 

"Here, this should help"

"Thank you" You say quietly "Won't you be cold?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm warm enough" He answers, his hands were still on the cloak, holding you close to him. 

"Thank you for showing me the woods, it's beautiful here" You smile softly, looking away from his icy blues to the beauty surrounding you. Robb smiled at you, the woods were beautiful, but here you were looking so perfect, standing there wrapped in his cloak. 

"Could I maye ask a favour of you?" You asked him quietly, still not looking at him. 

"Of course, princess. Anything you want" He answered, curious to what you could ask of him. 

"I always wished my first kiss was magical, somewhere beautiful with a dashing young prince...would you...and I understand if you'd prefer to wait until the wedding, but would you..." You ramble not quite able to get the words to leave your lips, you take a deep breath and close your eyes, feeling too nervous to finish your sentence.

Robb's eyes widened as he listened to you talk. You...you wanted your first kiss? Here? Now? He honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were standing here, asking him to...to kiss you, for the first time...He was honestly more than a little stunned, his mind was reeling as he tried to figure out if this was happening or if he was just dreaming this all up. He could barely process the words himself as he responded. 

"I....I....Yes...yes, princess, of course I will"

"You would?" You asked turning to face him "I don't want my first kiss to be in front of everyone, I want it to be special" 

Robb felt his heart skip and start beating faster. You were actually asking for him to give you your first kiss, here in the woods. How the hell was he supposed to keep himself under control if he was about to kiss you, it was a miracle he still hadn't thrown you on the ground and taken you right here, and now you were asking for that....? This was too damn much... 

"Yes, of course I would princess" He said staring down at you, his heart beating a mile a minute. You were looking up at him with your big, beautiful eyes and that sweet expression on your innocent face. He wanted so badly to touch you, to hold you and kiss you and never let you go...but he stayed still, standing in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. 

"I want you to kiss me, Robb, please?"

"Yes, princess" His hands moved to touch your waist, he leaned down slowly and captured you lips with his own. You weren't sure what you were doing at first, but you copied his actions moving your lips against his. His lips felt warmer than yours, soft too, you hadn't expected his lips to be so soft. 

Robb sighed into the kiss, you had tasted even sweeter than he'd imagined, and he quickly took over the kiss, his lips moving against yours urgently, one of his hands moved up to your hair, and tangled into the strands, pulling you closer to him. He couldn't get enough of you, not now, when he had you here in front of him, so damn close to him...

You pulled back slightly, feeling a little overwhelmed by his touch, your hands snaked up to his jaw, holding him gently. 

"Thank you" You whisper softly against his lips. Robb couldn't help but smirk. 

"For what, princess...For kissing you?"

"Yes" You giggle softly. 

"Well, I'm happy to do it again, anytime you want me to, princess"

"Only when we're alone, until we wed"

"Only when we're alone, princess, I promise" He says, grinning. 

"Funny" You say absently "I find myself excited to be married to you" You had been excited for the past few days, it was a bizarre feeling. But you welcomed it. 

"Is that so?" He asked, that stupid smirk on his lips again. 

"Yeah...funny seeing how much we used to hate one another" You smiling, you hoped he felt the same, that he was excited too. 

"I don't think either one of us hates the other much anymore, do we?" He asks, his perfect blue eyes looking down to you. His nose was red as was his cheeks from the cold air. 

"Hmm I don't know, maybe I hate you a little bit" You smirked. His eyes darkened slightly, he gripped you a little tighter, his hand still on your waist. 

"Oh...you still hate me, huh princess?"

"Hmm maybe a little" You giggle softly. 

"Only a little?" He asks, laughing a little, his nose bumping into yours as he moves closer to your face. 

"Yeah.. though I think the more you kiss me, the less I'd hate you" You whisper, feeling confident, now you had a taste of him, you wanted more. Needed more. He pushes you backwards slightly, your back hit the tree behind you. 

"Is that so? The more I kiss you, the more you'll grow to like me, huh?" 

"Not sure" You smirk "Maybe we should try again?"

Robb smirked down at you, all pressed up against the tree like this...It was taking so much self-control for him to just keep talking, to hold you up like this and still keep himself from taking more...

"We could definitely try again, princess"

"Kiss me Robb" You say, rolling your eyes playfully. He chuckled at the cheek tone in your voice. You were too damn cute...He leaned in closer, his body pressing tighter against yours, practically flush against you as he moved in close to whisper back. 

"I'd like to hear to you say 'please' princess"

"Please, my lord" You say slowly, your voice lower than before. Robb felt a shiver run down his spine as you purr out the word please. 

"Well...since you asked so nicely, princess..."

Finally Robb pressed his lips to yours again, you sigh softly into the kiss, your hands moved to his face, holding him gently as he guided you through the kiss. Robb found himself wanting more of you, he pressed himself tighter against you, wanting more of you, more of that sweet, gentle touch. He wanted to hold you and touch you all over, everywhere...You made a little noise when his tongue touched your lip, not expecting it. 

Robb groaned huskily when he heard that small, sweet nosie you made. The sound sent a shiver down his spine and he began to feel that desire for you starting to overtake him... He ran his tongue gently over your lips, trying to coax you to keep your mouth open for him, needing to taste you deeper, needing more than just the feel of you against his lips...

You kissed for a long time, the sun had finally started going down when you finally noticed exactly how long you had been kissing. You both would of glady stayed there by the tree all night, kissing and touching, holding one another close. 

"Oh Robb, your family, will they be mad?" You asked, suddenly panicking. Robb chuckled faintly, he had been blissfully lost in the feeling of you pressed against him, kissing you. He placed a gentle hand on your arm, trying to reassure you. 

"Don't worry, we'll be find, my family won't be angry. They won't even notice we've been gone for so long" 

"I'm sure they will, Sansa will definitely notice my absence" You say with a small laugh, since meeting Sansa had become a little attached to you. You didn't mind. 

"Sansa will be fine, she'll probably complain later, but it's worth it, trust me" 

"Come, let's get back to the castle" You say shivering slightly as you walked back over to your horse. 

"Alright, princess...Let's go"

You both rode back on your horses, a little quicker than your journey into the woods. Once you reached the stables there were two boys watching you both, smirks on their lips. Robb dismounted his horse first, and you followed. 

"Darling" Robb speaks calmly holding his hand out for you, you walk closer taking it, he walks you to stand in front of the two boys. "This is Jon, my half brother, and this is Theon, my father's ward"

You smiled sweetly to them, staying quiet, waiting for them to bow at you, it was expected, you were a princess after all. Neither Jon or Theon made an effort to bow, they smirked looking at you. You huffed and turned on the spot to face Robb. 

"Will you be staying here or accompanying me back to the castle?" You ask, thoroughly annoyed at the boys. 

"I'll catch up to you, princess" Robb smiled at you. You gave both Jon and Theon a dirty look and walked off. Robb turned back to Jon and Theon and sighed slightly. 

"You couldn't of just bowed? You know it's what she expects" Robb said quietly. 

"What happened to her being a stuck up princess?" Jon asked, obviously confused at Robb's affection towards you. 

"Oh she can be...She's just...She's getting better now" Robb explained, a faint smile on his lips as he thinks of you. He did think briefly about telling them how he was starting to really like you now, how he thought you were pretty cute and how he wanted to spend all his time with you, alone. But didn't want to give them any more ammunition to tease him with. 

"She's real pretty Robb, you know, if you get bored of her, I don't mind warming her bed" Theon said, a smirk on his lips as he looks off in the direction you walked. Robb felt a sudden flash of anger go through him, and he immediately tensed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides in irritation. 

"You'd do well to keep those sorts of comments to yourself, Greyjoy" Robb sneered. 

"I'm only joking Robb" Theon answered, smirking. 

"I suggest you find a better subject to joke about than my future wife" Robb answered, his voice still dark. 

"I'd stop Theon...Robb's obviously changed his mind about the annoying princess" Jon added quietly. 

"Yeah, I guess I have" Robb answers. 

"What changed your mind? Finally fuck her?" Theon asks. Jon shakes his head, knowing Theon just said the wrong thing. Robb tensed again at that, the anger flooding back into him. 

"Mind you goddamn tongue, Theon" 

You watched for a moment as Robb and the two boys talked, it looked like a heated chat, but you wished to wait for Robb. So in the courtyard you waited, whilst you did a few children ran up to you, wanting you to play with them. Happily you agreed, they kicked a ball around you, letting you kick it back to them a few times. It was unprincess like, but at that moment, you didn't really care. 

Robb finally left Jon and Theon, he'd had enough of Theon's stupid comments. He walked further into the courtyard, seeing you. He watched as you played happily with a few children, he found it so cute, it made him think of you with his children, it made his chest feel...strange to think about. He quickly pushed those kinds of thoughts out as he walked up to you. 

"Hi" You say softly to him. He smiled and stepped up next to you, looking down at you for a moment before glancing up at the kids who had gone back to playing without you. 

"Having fun with the children, princess?"

"Yes, they're lovely" You answer smiling as you watch the child play. 

"They've taken quite the liking to you, you're good with children" He adds, smiling softly down at you. 

"I have three younger siblings, remember?" You say, your heart hurting slightly as you think of them. 

"Are you close with them?" He asks. 

"I suppose we are, Joffrey has gotten more difficult the older he gets, Myrcella and I were the closest, both of us being girls, and little Tommen, oh I adore my sweet baby brother" You say, cooing over your siblings. Robb smiled faintly as you spoke of your family. It was interesting hearing you talk about your siblings, like this, with such fondness and affection in your voice. He could picture you with your little siblings, it made him think of that scenario where you played with his children, your children...He shook the image from his head, knowing you'd probably think him ridiculous for even contemplating those kind of thoughts. 

"You love you family, don't you?" He asks. 

"I suppose so, not so much my parents however" You say quietly. 

"You don't love your parents?" He questions, you take his arm as he holds it out, both of you taking a slow walk towards the castle. 

"It's not that...well, my father being the king, he was always too busy for me, and my mother, she acts so strangely towards me, maybe because I don't look like my siblings, the three of them are copies of one another, whereas I don't match, who knows...I don't have a good relationship with my parents, not like you do" You explain. 

"That...sucks, princess. I'm...sorry to hear that" Robb says pulling you in a little closer as you walk together. 

"Don't be, I'm marrying into your family and I truly adore your family Robb" You say. 

"You adore my family?" He asks, a small smile on his lips as he watches you. 

"They're wonderful" You admit. 

Once you had entered the castle walls you parted ways, reluctantly, but you both had to change outfits, the clothes you were currently wearing slightly damp from the cold. You changed into a new dress, an evening gown which was a dark red, backless and flowed wonderfully down your legs. You felt happy to be in less layers now, and you walked to the Stark's feast hall, they were all in there. 

"Good evening all" You smiled softly, Robb stood and walked you to your seat. 

"Good evening, my princess, you look lovely" Robb whispered as you both sat down. You felt yourself blush when he said 'my princess' it made your insides feel fuzzy and warm. 

"Thank you" You smiled, you then turned to Lady Stark, whom was sitting next to you "Lady Stark, you also look wonderful tonight"

"Thank you, my dear" Her eyes kind as she spoke. 

And with that you and your new family tucked into your feast.

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @whatelsecouldgowrong @rheanyraaaa

[leviloviatar]

You literally understand these characters so much i love it. It’s by no means a matter of course esp with this crap show that butchers Arya and Gendry’s characters (and bran too :(() but what are your favourite character traits of Gendry? And in what ways are Robert and Gendry similar and different?

OK YOU GUYS I AM EXCITED

First of all anon thank you so much!!! Not only was I blessed with this amazing ask, but I also got this similar one:

You’re active again omg I love your blog and your gendrya posts :D so I wanted to ask in which ways Gendry and Robert are similar and in which ways are they different? I think he is kind of a mixture between Robert and Stannis

I don’t know what I did to deserve my asks to blessed with these amazing anons but I LOVE YOU and since you both just happened to ask me about one of my favorite subjects of all time…*cracks knuckles* 

Let’s talk about some burly, beautiful, Baratheon boys, shall we?

So the most glaringly obvious similarity between Gendry and Robert has got to be the “Baratheon Look,” right? GRRM takes great pains to remind us, time and time again, that Gendry looks like Robert. They both have the classic Baratheon features - tall with dreamy blue eyes, thick black hair, and very big muscles. 

*Its important to remember, that although when we first meet Robert Baratheon he’s gotten old and fat, back in his day he was a damn fine looking man.

Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm’s End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden’s fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He’d had a giant’s strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.-AGOT, Eddard I

For reference as to how ripped Robert was, Ned Stark, who wields a two-handed broadsword (note: that’s really fucking heavy) can barely even lift the warhammer Robert is swinging around…Robert was ripped. 

Speaking of hammers, Gendry has literally grown up swinging a hammer (albeit around a forge) but remember when Tohbo Mott tells Ned that Gendry was made to swing a hammer? And since we now have show!Gendry swinging a warhammer, I have high hopes that book!Gendry will also follow in Robert’s footsteps as to his weapon of choice. In case all that hammer imagery doesn’t hit hard enough (pun intended and also I’m so sorry lol) GRRM is constantly reminding us that Gendry looks like Robert. I mean, when Ned first discovers Gendry, the reader is given the literary equivalent of a big blinking neon sign that says ‘hey look at this kid, he looks just like King Robert’ - 

The master called over a tall lad about Robb’s age, his arms and chest corded with muscle. “This is Lord Stark, the new Hand of the King,” he told him as the boy looked at Ned through sullen blue eyes and pushed back sweat-soaked hair with his fingers. Thick hair, shaggy and unkempt and black as ink. The shadow of a new beard darkened his jaw.-AGOT, Eddard VI

And just so we seriously don’t forget, there are plenty of reminders throughout the books that hey, this guy really looks like a Baratheon.  For example:

Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. - ACOK, Arya II

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. -ACOK, Arya VIII

Remember when Brienne first sees Gendry, and for a second she thinks its Renly?  (AFFC, Brienne VII, I think?) Well, despite his inconsistent eye color…“Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile.” (-ACOK, Catelyn II).

Another thing Gendry shares with Robert is a bit of that famous Baratheon temper. “Ours is the Fury” are the house words, after all. This is especially true of Robert, who is a bit infamous for his “fury,” and we see his temper quite often. For example:

“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. -AGOT, Eddard VIII

and with the king in such a black fury … -AGOT, Eddard VIII

Robert was in a fury, until he heard talk of some monstrous boar deeper in the forest. - AGOT, Eddard XII

Robert Baratheon’s fury had soured the ironmen’s taste for the new gods, it would seem. - ACOK, Theon I

This is also the man who, despite already having killed Rhaegar Targaryen, still dreams about killing him every single night of his life. Have you ever been so angry at something that after you’ve smashed it to bits, you still want to smash it? Robert Baratheon has. But for me, the very worst example of his temper that we see as readers is when he slaps Cersei, and then threatens to do it again (I feel like the fact that Robert feels guilty about this says a lot about his inability to control his temper, more on that in a sec). Point is, Robert has a bad temper. 

But we also see traces of this famous ‘Baratheon fury’ in Gendry. Although it mostly surfaces as his stubbornness (oh hi Stannis), we do get to see instances of Gendry’s temper getting the better of him (my personal favorite being the Peach, but also see jealous!Gendry). But the important thing is, that Gendry is able to control his temper much more effectively than Robert. This is most likely due to the fact that he has to. Robert is the king, he can do whatever he wants with no consequences. But Gendry? A lowborn bastard with no money or connections? Yeah, he can’t go around doing that. Losing his temper could also mean losing his life, no matter how strong he his, because of his position in society, which brings me to the most important part about these two which is their Big Differences: 

Robert is the legitimate son and heir of a wealthy and powerful noble family

Gendry is a very poor, lowborn bastard with no family

Robert was an infamous womanizer who fathered many bastard children

Gendry is a blushing virgin who only has eyes for Arya Stark and would literally never touch another woman ever fight me

I feel like Robert and Gendry are sort of like a case study in nurture vs. nature. Despite their many genetic similarities, their vastly different socioeconomic environments shaped them in very different ways. Robert grew up as the eldest son of a Great House - he lived in a castle, knowing that he would inherit that castle, and all the lands, titles, and privileges that come along with it; other lords owed him allegiance; he was wealthy, powerful, and on top of that, he was good at everything he did (much to the chagrin of his younger brother Stannis). He wasn’t just any lord, but the Lord of Storm’s End, a very important position in society, and then he went on to become the fucking King, arguably the most important person in society. So what does he do with all his money and power? 

Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures -AGOT, Eddard I.

And what does Robert have an appetite for? In his own words: “warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for.” - Robert to Ned, AGOT, Eddard VII. Drinking, fucking, fighting, that’s what he likes. (We could talk about how much of that is actually a coping mechanism but let’s save psychoanalyzing Robert’s actions for another, crazier post lol).

Gendry being both a lowborn and a bastard is crucial in shaping the man that he becomes. Gendry grew up in essentially the exact opposite circumstances that Robert did. Not only was he lowborn and extremely poor, but he had to live with the added stigma of being a bastard (and an ‘unrecognized’ bastard at that, which we see in ASOIAF is very different than being a ‘recognized’ bastard). As we know, being a bastard is something that Gendry is painfully aware of. (Unlike Robert, who doesn’t seem to give a single fuck how many bastards he leaves behind). Gendry hates the father he never knew. And on top of that, his opinion of Robert is pretty damn low as well…

“That old drunk?“ said Gendry scornfully. “He’s dead, some boar killed him, everyone knows that.” - ASOS, Arya II

I think the reason Gendry doesn’t have the inclination to abuse alcohol or women in the way Robert did because this is the world he was born and raised in. Gendry could never afford to be the womanizing drunk his father was.  Of course, I’m not saying that if Gendry had the same upbringing as Robert then he definitely would have turned out the same - maybe, maybe not. I’m merely saying that the possibility of becoming someone like that doesn’t exist for Gendry. This is someone at the very bottom of the social ladder, someone with no money to spend in taverns or brothels. Actually, even engaging in consensual sex would be pretty risky for Gendry, because it could lead to huge ramifications, for example, fathering a bastard he couldn’t afford to care for, or pissing off the wrong father or brother. Stepping out of line could literally mean his life, since someone like Gendry could be killed in the slums of Flea Bottom with literally no ramifications. 

To me, this is also what makes Acorn Hall such a big fucking deal - Gendry Waters pulling Arya Stark down to the floor and rolling around with her like that is BOLD AF and Gendry knows that. It’s one of the main reasons I squeal every time I read it. I really do think there’s a very Baratheon-like part of him that comes out, especially where she is concerned. Speaking of which, Gendry and Robert both have remarkably similar (excellent) taste in women - all those Arya/Lyanna parallels aren’t there for no reason!

Another interesting parallel between Robert and Gendry is their experiences with war. Robert loved war. I mean he really loved war. He was good at it. It made him feel exhilarated. And most importantly, the horrors of war didn’t really impact him because he was part of the aristocracy. Gendry’s journey, by stark contrast, has literally taken him through the devastating impacts of war on the common people. He has seen the worst of it - the myriad of ways that wars waged by the nobility literally destroys the people those lords are supposed to be protecting. In my opinion, these experiences are exactly what would make him a good king, not only better than Robert, but also better than Stannis or Renly, because Gendry understands on a very real level the suffering of the people. 

(Personally, I would love to have more about the young!Baratheons, like growing up at Storms End together, and see how their personalities developed into the men they became. If this is a fic, somebody link me!) 

Ok so I’m really gonna wrap this up now before it becomes so long that no one ever leaves me asks again, but remember what Donal Noye said about the Baratheon brothers?

“Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He’ll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he’s copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day.”

Well, I know I’ve said this before but I think Gendry is Valyrian Steel. He was forged differently from the others, but because of that he is uncommonly strong, sharp, and exceptionally valuable.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

Warning : Angst, smut Masterlist (Part 4 - Part 6)

Summary: This is your last night at Storm's end before your depart for King's Landing. To be truthful, you haven't expected it to go smoothly anyway. Aemond is an unpredictable man, and you'll have to start to get used to it.

You were invited to dinner with Lord's Baratheon's family for your last night at Storm's End before your departure, or rather, Aemond's departure for King's Landing, as his status forced Lord Borros to throw a feast for his guest of honour. And to his greatest dismay, he has been obliged to invite you as well.

You were seated rather far from Aemond, who was placed between his betrothed and Borros Baratheon, himself placed next to his wife and others you did not know. As for you, you were on the side, next to your aunt and the youngest Baratheon's daughter, placing the four sisters between you and Aemond, who was for the moment intensely looking at his cup, body slightly turned your way.

You were uncomfortable, as Lord Borros unhidden dark glare toward you and clearly indicating that he was still not happy about the idea of you riding with his daughter's future husband, and you suspected that what transpired between Aemond and yourself in the courtyard earlier had reached his ears.

So you made yourself discreet, and didn't talk much through most of the diner, the Baratheon's daughters clearly the most talkative, all except the youngest next to you. But it didn't prevent you from hearing everything Cassandra, the eldest, had to say to the assembly when she was not whispering into Aemond's ear.

"It was positively exhilarating! Vhagar is such a huge beast, it feels like you own the whole world when you are up in the sky!" Cassandra was happily moving in her seat, her eyes proud from the memory of Aemond taking her for a ride on Lord Borros' suggestion this very day. "I long to see my sons riding dragons as well when their eggs will have hatched!" she continued, her other sisters listening with envy.

Aemond next to her, only bore a polite smile as the conversation continued around him, seemingly still taking more interest in the patterns of his cup. He hasn't said much, at least that you could hear. He sometimes answered the Lord Borros’ questions about his dragon or about other subjects, and sometimes approached his future bride to answer one or her many whispered questions, her hand touching his arm each time they talked.

It was the first time you saw Lady Cassandra. She was lean, pretty, young, and she clearly was eloquent and quick-witted. All qualities that would fare well in the Red Keep, you thought. However, you were already sick of listening to her, bragging about Vhagar and her time with Aemond, of how she would be in her element as his wife and always bringing the subject of the ceremony as soon as a silence needed to be filled.

You quickly realised that you hated where you were seated, because you could see the couple much too clearly for your taste, as well as being very close to the other sisters, and you could feel their curious glares at you, judging everything you did.

"I heard that Rhaenyra gave birth to a deformed stillborn!" said the second sister. "People say she is cursed. What do you think my Lady? You were present when she went into labour, were you not? Was it truly deformed?"

She had to speak loud enough for her voice to reach you clearly now that she was addressing you, her quiet sister separating you not bothering her in the slightest.

You tried to calm your nerves as memories of Rhaenyra screaming in pain came back to you. Some people around you were waiting for your response with interest. 

"I do not know my Lady, only that the grief of losing a child must be beyond any pain I know," you said coldly, the implication of your words heavy around the table as some people glanced at Aemond. "And I do not believe in curses."

You held your gaze to the sister who watched you with a slight grin, then you dared to glance at Aemond, only to find him with his eye already on you. You quickly resumed looking at your plate.

You were perfectly aware of the fear that surrounded the ‘Kinslayer’ curse. You had no care for it.

"The Black Queen sure wears her name well," stated Lord Baratheon who has heard your reply and chose to ignore it. "Darkness would surely fall on the Seven Kingdoms if a woman was ever to rule it."

You ticked at the comment as conversations carried on this new subject. You retreated in your silence when you felt something softly pulling your sleeve.

"Is it true that the Princess Rhaenys escaped on the Red Queen during King Aegon's coronation?"

It was the youngest Baratheon girl, her voice as quiet and sweet as her eyes, evidently eager to talk more about dragons. You smiled, you were the same at her age.

"I did not witness it with my own eyes, my Lady, for I was not at King's Landing at the time. But I saw the Princess arrive triumphantly at Dragonstone on Meleys, the very image of the fierce wife of Aegon the First himself," you said tenderly as her eyes widened in amazement, glad that you found someone to talk without feeling constantly put to the test.

"I was there," you heard Aemond said amidst the other discussions still going on around you.

You weren't aware that the Prince was listening to your conversation, as far as he was from you. But the interaction instantly took all of the sisters’ attention as they looked between you and Aemond.

"Rhaenys burst into the Dragonpit on dragon-back, killing many subjects of the King in the process, not caring one bit for the consequences of her deeds, and threatened us during a royal event, me and my family," he said as to defy your claim, looking right at you. 

You swallowed.

"Maybe both the Princess and her dragon did not appreciate being imprisoned for days when the Princess's cousin had just passed away, an honoured guest in your home. Would you not have done the same if you were separated from Vhagar, my Prince?" you managed to answer, sounding more annoyed that you wanted to appear.

Aemond hummed, grinning slightly as he put his cup down before him. "Are you implying that I would murder innocent bystanders for my own personal reason, for the sake of my dragon and because of my rank? I am not that cruel."

Somehow his words sounded false, but you were both in a game, and you were losing.

"I beg to differ on that matter," you replied. "But I would not sully your good name under our host's roof, for surely he does not want to witness your cruelty, only use your name and title to break an oath for the sake of his daughters while you indulge him."

The table went silent. You realised what you had said too late, not even knowing why your mean words were aimed at Lord Baratheon as he sent you a terrifying glare, clutching on his cup. You shrank in your chair as your aunt lowered her head, bracing for the storm.

"How dare you, young Lady, insult me and my house, when you have done nothing but betray your word and cast shame on my family!" he yelled. "Do you not think I know that you came as a messenger for the false Queen? The Crown could have your neck for that, you'd be well to remember your place!"

Aemond jumped on his feet, all your previous spoken battle forgotten. Although you couldn't see his face, his stance screamed for violence and all eyes were turned to him as he now stood, looking down at Lord Borros with a deadly glare. The latter’s expression passed from fury to careful anger, and began to stand up slowly, almost coming to the same height as Aemond as the two men stared at each other tensely.

"I would be careful boy, you are a royal guest here, but your manners of late has been nothing but disrespectful," Lord Borros said through gritted teeth, trying to remain unfazed by Aemond's surprising reaction. But the Prince spoke nonetheless.

"I would only remind you, my Lord, that this is no proper way to treat a lady, especially Lady Y/N who was obviously forced to do as told by my traitor of a sister... Your anger is misdirected, if you wish to blame someone, blame me for not having her removed sooner from your home." His voice was menacing, and you shivered.

Lord Baratheon didn't take the Prince’s statement as sincere, without even mentioning that he had just been insulted, and you saw him grab the hilt of a dagger at his belt, his jaw tense.

You clutched the arms of your chair in anticipation, waiting for their next movements, but you saw Lord Borros' wife grab his elbow in an attempt to soothe her husband. Aemond for his part, hadn't flinched, and you guessed that he was only glaring at the Lord in defiance, eye wide in focus and anger.

Lord Borros finally let go of his dagger. "You are to marry my daughter under the next moon my boy, this is the new agreement, make sure not to forget it."

And he stormed out of the room, leaving his many guests to finally relax from the tense atmosphere. You didn't move as you watched Aemond turn, seemingly regaining his composure, take Cassandra's hand to deposit a kiss on the back of it before departing from another doorway. You were sure that he had quickly glanced at you before leaving the table, and you prayed that he didn't see the pang of jealousy displayed on your features.

For the rest of the dinner, you felt every eye on you, making you desperate to retreat to your chamber, to leave the very castle, even. Your salvation came under the form of a message that had arrived by raven. The parchment was sealed with your House's emblem, a badger, and so you were able to excuse yourself and leave the room.

The message was from your father.

"My daughter,

I learnt recently that you were at Storm's End and unwell. I do not understand why you have travelled this far, but I hope that you are feeling better as you receive this message. I wish to know by return of raven when you are to come back to King's Landing, to us, as Dragonstone is now a dangerous place to be. Finally, daughter, I would advise you to mind the words you say in court, as I know you are always eager to put honesty above all other matters. However, this is not the wisest course of action currently. Especially given your current entourage.

Long live the King, love, your father.

You folded the parchment in one of your dress's pockets, and lied on your bed. He had signed Long live the King , an obvious reminder that no matter where his loyalty truly laid in regard to the true heir, caution was now of the highest importance. You would follow his advice, and you were glad to have in your possession a piece of your family among this unwelcoming place, especially after tonight. You could see him tomorrow, you thought, in person, if Aemond would really follow his plan and bring you back with him. You smiled as you already felt lighter about your future ride on Vhagar. You couldn't wait, you admitted, and you didn't want to confess why.

You couldn't really sleep that night, too riled up from the many emotions you had to go through today. You settled to read a book near the fire, finally enjoying some peace before you heard a knock on your door. Cursing internally, you grabbed a cloth to cover yourself, your nightgown a little too revealing for visitors and went to open the door.

He was standing there, tall, fully dressed. He didn't wait for you to welcome him as he walked straight inside, passing by you and heading to the middle of the room.

"Are you prepared to leave?" he asked.

You watched him, astounded as he turned to you in his usual stance, hands behind his back.

"W-what?" you only managed to say, your hand still on the doorknob.

"Did you pack your belongings for our departure?" he repeated. 

You still didn't understand the sudden intrusion. It was highly improper for him to even be here, the dinner still on your mind. You were not sure that you could survive another of Lord Borros’ outbursts.

"I only came with very little, so I do not have to pack really but-"

"Perfect," he interrupted. "I spent the last hours in thoughts and have concluded that it would be better if we were to leave as soon as possible."

"You mean now? Tonight?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Surely you jest Aemond. It's the middle of the night and it's pouring outside, without mentioning the storm!"

"Vhagar has seen worse. And you should trust both of us to find King's Landing as if we were in daylight," he said proudly. 

What was with him? He was not thinking clearly.

"What about Lord Borros? What about your duty to your betrothed? I do not feel comfortable with this. Surely you cannot think about flying ahead of what has been settled without notifying the court, this is not how it is done!" you tried to reason.

"I don't care!" 

The next moment, he was on you, so fast that the door you were still holding open closed with a loud slam behind your back by the force of both your bodies colliding.

"I don't care, and neither should you! They have been nothing but cruel to you! You have no idea what they all say about you when you are not in the room and they think I am not listening, depicting you as what you are not. I grow tired of feeling like ripping the throat of everyone around me in this damned court. Restraint is exhausting..." 

As he said this, his eye went to your lips and stayed there. You could feel his hand squeeze your waist as you processed what he had said.

"What do they say about me exactly?" you asked, curious, your voice a mix of pain and anger.

He looked up at you before speaking to you like he would to a child. 

"They think you are a curse, given to you by your time at Dragonstone, perverted by the Black Queen. They say you are the reason I do not spend time with my betrothed, among other things."

You watched him with hurt. Of course they thought that. It wouldn't surprise you if the realm was to whisper about the possibility of you being the Prince's paramour in no time, maybe assuming you had been for years even. After all, you were still unmarried, your father too picky in the choice of finding you a husband even though your House was not the wealthiest of the Westerlands.

"Maybe I'm so irritated because they are right to some extent," he whispered when you didn't answer, putting a strand of your hair away from your face.

"My reputation is ruined, Aemond" you said, a tear appearing in one of your eyes. Nothing you'll ever do will ever erase that."

"They are nothing," he kept on. "When you'll be in the Red Keep, nothing will harm you, not even their meaningless words."

He was caressing your face, tenderly, wiping away the tear that fell from your eye. He was right, you shouldn't care.

"We shouldn't leave now, Aemond. This is folly, even if I hate it here, it would worsen our situation."

You grabbed his elbow in an attempt to weigh your words to him. He looked disappointed at them, even if he did expect them.

"I heard you received a message," he inquired.

"From my father. He is expecting me, it seems."

"And rightly so. So why make him wait, hm?"

The sound he made resonated deeply into your being, giving you goosebumps, almost faltering your focus. You glanced at the window, the storm had passed, and the moon was high, radiating its light onto the sea, a good weather for flying. Still you wouldn't yield.

"Aemond...-" you began, fully intending to make him see reason again.

"Raah," he groaned, head falling down over your chest, and hand onto your shoulder. "Why must you always go against me, always so stubborn..." he said as he lifted his head again, shaking it slightly in disapproval.

You watched him, amused by his reaction and almost proud of your character trait's effect on him. Your smile seemed to soothe him as he cupped your neck with his hand that left your shoulder, a grin on his face.

He was greatly enticing, in the moonlight now filtering through the glass. His lips seemed soft, and you felt your heart beating faster. Oh no, you thought.

Your eyes on his lips was enough to shift the atmosphere completely, making you more flustered than you have ever been. He placed his forehead against yours, his breath on your lips, so close they would touch if you moved by only an inch. You shot up to his eye, a fire burning inside it.

"Tell me that you want it," he exhaled, eyes closed. "Tell me that you desire it too."

You struggled to breathe, he seemed to have taken your very being hostage. Your lips apart, you waited for your words to be able to form again, but your arms moved on their own as you put them around his neck and pulled him closer, pulled to him by a force you failed to understand.

Then his lips crashed onto yours. His hand at your waist squeezed so hard it made you wince, but you didn't care, you needed it. His scent invaded your senses as his skin was as hot as burning fire, alike to yours, pressing against each other. He tasted so much better than you ever dreamt of, it sent your head spinning, your shame forgotten.

You moaned as his kiss was turning into a more heated and passionate one as seconds passed, he groaned in frustration when you felt his hardness against your belly.

He kissed you more and more roughly as you allowed your hands to pass through his hair, touching the softness of it, even daring to pull it a little. He groaned at that and left your mouth to kiss your jaw, throat and neck, licking his way down.

"You smell so good, gods you feel so good Y/N," he said in a trembling voice. His tongue was where your neck and shoulder met, kissing it hard, biting even. You didn't mind, it was exhilarating. 

You whimpered when one of his hands struggled with the fabric hiding your chest, warm hands at the base of your neck, squeezing it lightly as he tried to untie the laces of your front.

"Aemond that's-" Good, you wanted to say, but he prevented you from finishing your words, convinced you were going to resist him in some way, so he pressed his knee in between your legs, making you gasp hardly as he pressed against your sensible part.

He watched your reaction with a satisfied smirk, taking the opportunity to speak over your mouth.

"What is it, my Lady? Is there something you want to say? A complaint perhaps? Or did you wish to say how much you like it."

You whimpered again, feeling your heart throbbing against his knee, and you felt his smile through the kiss he gave you as he kept on his ministrations on your laces, satisfied by your silence.

He cupped your breasts, finally able to touch them as he liked, squeezing and caressing them as he once more kissed the base of your neck, getting closer and closer.

You fidgeted a little on your position, causing your middle to flatten against his knee again and you hissed at the unexpected pleasure, cursing at your movement and holding on to his shoulders for dear life as you couldn't help but dig your nails onto the fabric of his clothes. You suddenly hated the many layers he wore, your fingers wanting to feel more of him.

"Ah..." he breathed against your breast, voice low. "Eager already are you? That's good, but I wish to take my time with you Y/N. I have waited all of these years, I can wait a little while longer.”

You whimpered again. Yes .

"I thought-" you hissed as he bit your nipple. "I thought we were in a haste to return to your family."

"Surely you cannot travel in this state," he replied. "Look at you, so gorgeous and needy..." he growled. "I have to take care of you first."

This thought made you weak, his knee now departing from between your thighs. He then proceeded to press himself against you as you closed your eyes, taking pleasure in the sensation.

You felt one of his hands rest on your stomach before absently making its way down, reaching your middle. He growled against your skin as you tensed at the touch.

"Fuck." His hand was now touching the warm and now damp fabric of your gown, discovering your arousal.

His swearing and the position of his hand would have shocked you if you were in any other predicament. Only you realised that you liked it very much with that specific voice of his, as you didn't often hear him swear in your presence. I suited him.

"I'm sure you taste so sweet Y/N, would you like me to taste you?" he asked, in the process of lifting your gown to your thigh and his palm was soon on your warm skin. You gasped.

"You can't even imagine the many nights I spend thinking about you in this way, and now you are everything and more than I hoped," he whispered, his fingers pressing against your inside. His eye went from lazy arousal to hot desire in a matter of seconds, as he stared at your features now completely at his mercy.

You wanted to reply, tell him that he was not alone, but you couldn't, your pride and playful tendency telling you that it would be better to make him beg for you to admit it.

Pure lust showed from his face now, and he began stroking your sensitive spot, pleasure eliciting sweet sounds from your mouth. Suddenly he stopped, took hold of your leg under your knee and put it over his hip. You held on to his shoulder at the change of position when he lifted you up from the floor, carrying you easily.

The loss you felt as he removed his fingers was quickly replaced by his hard state pressing against your soft one as he carried you over to the bed, his tongue lashing into your mouth in the process, and laid you down on the sheets, his body over yours.

It was now easier for him to hold up your gown even if he really wanted to rip it apart, stopping himself for your sake, rather sliding a hand beneath it to caress your belly and finding his place once again between your thighs. His breath was heavy as he watched you arch your back when he finally put his fingers inside of you.

"So tight..." He thrust his fingers again, making shameful sounds resonate through the room. He rested his head on the inside of your neck, glancing at you sideways. You were loudly moaning now, and you worried that you were to be heard outside.

"Gods Aemond I-" you gasped as you felt his fingers hit at the right spot over and over, making you pull his hair in despair. "I need-, I need more."

He chuckled next to your ear, visibly more than delighted that you fulfilled his deepest wishes. You at his complete mercy. But you were not quite there yet.

"It's not very lady like to demand such things without any manners, love. I should be asked properly," he replied, not stopping his movements inside you. You sighed in despair as you considered indulging him, begging was not something you usually did. But his thrusts were making you crazy. So you said it.

"Please Aemond," your voice trembling as you said his name, arching your head back, enjoying the sweet sensation of building pleasure. You reopened your eyes just to see him with an indefinable expression over his face, something between the most menacing stare you’ve ever witnessed, and absolute satisfaction. He then moved his body down from you, levelling his head to the spot between your thighs. You ached in anticipation. He rubbed his thumb on your sweet spot at first, too slowly for your taste, before flattening his mouth on your wetness.

You screamed loudly, and your hand shot to your mouth to stop other sounds from escaping it. His tongue hot against your folds, he was holding on to one of your legs tightly, sure to leave a mark on it later on. You didn't know how much time had passed since this moment, only that you were unable to properly register anything else than the pure pleasure you felt at Aemond kissing you this way. You only knew that at one point, you had put your hand into his hair, grabbing it, and that the other clutched so tightly to the sheet underneath you that you feared you would rip it apart.

At some point Aemond sucked, hard. It was too much, you were close, and your back arched so much that he had to force his hand on you to keep you still. He glanced at you when your moans were beginning to sound more desperate, taking in your sight as you struggled to keep quiet. He kept on his ministrations, devouring you as his fingers found once again their way inside you, and your muscles began to tighten around them.

Pleasure overcame you, your release left you panting heavily. You felt over sensitive as Aemond rubbed your sweet spot softly one last time. When you looked at him, he was already looking intensely at you, lust in his eye, as he had not missed one piece of your expression when he contented you. He licked his lips as he came to rest beside you on the bed, kissing you, your taste still on his mouth.

"You taste so good I would have you attached to this bed all night if I could," he said in a low voice, putting your hair aside from your neck to grant him access. Your breath evened as you find the ability to speak again.

"Would it be so bad?"

He smiled at that, one hand reaching to rest on your stomach.

"Unfortunately, this is not the right place to entertain such thoughts. But soon, maybe," he said mysteriously. You began to shift toward him, curious of what he would do now, his arousal still evident when you looked at his lower half.

But he unexpectedly got up and walked toward the door, leaving a cool sensation as his warmth left you.

"I will let you rest," he said, reaching for the door. "We depart as soon as the sun is up."

When the door closed, you felt the gloom of the quiet room again, engulfing you. You almost felt disappointed, he had put your pleasure over his, at least that is how you viewed it. You shivered, your heart still beating fast.

Soon sleep took you. You were soon to depart, rest will do you good.

-0- Part 6

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @polireader

[mrsjadecurtiss]

What do you think of Robert? What are your opinions on him, do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

I think Robert was fundamentally not made to be a king - He has the charisma and the looks and is an able warrior, but his negative character traits are indulged and enhanced by his position and led him down an almost unavoidable path.

Robert is someone who above all wants to enjoy and live an easy life:

"You need to come south," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. [...] Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat.[...]" The king laughed happily. Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. - Eddard I, aGoT

"Robert wanted smiles and cheers, always, so he went where he found them, to his friends and his whores. Robert wanted to be loved." - Sansa IV, aCoK

He has just enough of a moral understanding to at least know when he is doing wrong and to even feel bad about it at times, but not enough to actually change anything about himself.

The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit [Cersei]. That was not … that was not kingly." He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. - Eddard X, aGoT

Robert desires to have an easy life, he wants to be loved, he wants to have fun, but he does not want to deal with the hard and unpleasant things. In times of crisis, he wants to take the easy way out, and he prefers to avoid uncomfortable truths.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. "[...] When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children." - Tyrion VI, aSoS

"Well, now I know Jaime's dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned." - Eddard II, aGoT

"Most likely the king did not know," Littlefinger said. "It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see." - Eddard IV, aGoT

He feels most comfortable when he is surrounded by people who love him and know how to handle him/want the best for him, and steer him onto the right path in a way where he can still feel good about himself.

"These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace." - Eddard I, aGoT

In an environment that works against him, or goes against his wishes even if it is for the better, it creates a destructive energy in him. He cannot stand dissent to his wishes because it robs him of a pleasure he desires, and creates unwanted conflict. He also cannot handle constructive criticism because it makes him confront unpleasant truths - he always wants the easiest path with the least tension. If he is presented with a situation that strains his limits as there is no amiable solution to a difficult/disturbing problem, his reaction is a toxic one; turning to rage and violence even towards his own child.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. - Eddard II, aGoT

He may act against what he knows is right, because it is the easiest route; like when he has the wolf Lady killed to please Cersei:

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.” [...] "We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph. It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it." - “Robert, you cannot mean this,” Ned protested. The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more." - Eddard III, aGoT

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And when Ned reprimands him about Daenerys he will not hear dissent, even though he knows deep down that it is wrong:

He gave the king a long cool look. “Would [the man who spared Barristan] were here today.” Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same,” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.” - “Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.”

[...] “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?” - “No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?” - “Enough!” the king bellowed. “I am sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned."

[...] “I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to  it.” For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. [...] “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.” - “I wish him every success.” Ned [...] laid [his badge of office] on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.” Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “[...] Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!” - Eddard VIII, aGoT

“Gods have mercy,” he muttered, swallowing his agony. “The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right . . . that’s why, the girl . . . the gods sent the boar . . . sent to punish me . . .” - Eddard XIII, aGoT

Robert is a man who always wants it easy, he wants his demands to always be fulfilled, to be loved and have fun without dealing with the bad things; but an important theme that is repeated over and over in asoiaf is that you can only act good if you are willing to face the bad that may come with it, and if you cannot live with the consequences, your action might not be justified.*

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" - "That is the only time a man can be brave." - Bran I, aGoT

"Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice." - Davos VI, aSoS

"The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die." - Bran I, aGoT

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself." - Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall. - Eddard III, aGoT

This is why putting him on the throne was poison - all the power in the world, and noone who would dare go against his wishes. It indulges all of Robert's worst traits, and buries anything he had inside him that was salvageable.

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?" - "Ser Barristan is right. There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you." - Eddard VII, aGoT

I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. - Eddard IV, aGoT

And Robert knows it - he knows being a king isn't for him, that he doesn't enjoy the actual work that goes into governing, that he doesn't have the personality for such politics or to deal with the people involved, and that he would much rather spend his time enjoying life and doing what he loves...

"Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this? [...] I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I’ve won it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell … and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but …" - Eddard I, aGoT

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. "If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." - Eddard I, aGoT

"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And yet he doesn't do anything about it and keeps staying at the position he hates - he does not want to deal with the uncomfortable consequences that would come with upsetting the status quo, or making changes to his own personality and going through growth, or confronting ugly truths about himself in a productive way, etc etc.

He does make a talk of changes at times during aGoT, and seems to have a sense of responsibility about his Job, but as it is his desire for changes came too late, and what responsibility he felt mostly served to paralyze him in place.

"The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?" - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I'm still young, and now that you're here with me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells." - Eddard VII, aGoT

In a way Joffrey is to Robert what Ramsay is to Roose: an exploration of the inherent flaw in their way of life, demonstrated in the most extreme case. In Joffrey's case, it shows what happens to give someone unlimited power with noone daring to oppose them.

Do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

It's a little unclear which war you mean, so I will briefly touch on several points:

There could have been ideal circumstances where he might have worked out as a king, if he was surrounded by people who know the perfect way to deal with him and make him work past his flaws (intuitively doing the work of a modern therapist), but the average life is not ideal and grrm shows the realistic fate of a man like Robert.

I think by the time Ned arrived it was sadly too late to change - maybe if the Lannisters didn't exist, or this or that event hadn't happened, but Grrm shows that most of what lead to Robert's downfall was in the end caused by himself. Cersei kills him because she came to despise the man he was, and for good reason as he abused her during all her marriage - and while he has some scenes of feeling bad or even apologizing for it, he never made any attempts to actually change the terrible way he was treating her.

If Robert's Rebellion never happened, he would have probably made an able enough Lord of Storm's End; delegating his "boring" administrative duties to his advisors and maester, enjoying the privileges of highborn life, and having just enough responsibility to feel like the alpha male of his society yet not enough to do as lasting damage as he did for the throne. He would not have been the best Lord, but sadly there are many worse in Westeros, since the entire dynastic ruling system is inherently flawed. If he would have been a better person depends on who he is surrounded with, if circumstances would have motivated him to change, or if perhaps his position of power and outward influences would still just have indulged him into the man he was in aGoT. Ultimately, there are a lot of butterfly effects leading to different results that i’m sure have been explored in many fics.

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." - Eddard IX, aGoT

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly. - Eddard VII, aGoT    

What do you think of Robert?

Since i am someone who frequently enjoys morally grey and villainous characters, despite his many negative traits i have a fondness of Robert; I think he is an interesting character and very human in his flaws, and there is a lot of melancholy to his story that makes me somber about him even if it obviously does not excuse his bad actions. I also think he has a great character design that's fun to draw and some fun boisterous scenes, and some of his positive qualities remind me of people i know.

*Stannis is an interesting character as Robert’s brother, as he is the opposite to him in this regard, as well as in many aspects of their personality and even their outward presentation (like how Stannis crops his beard short to contrast Robert’s wild one)

[myocsfanfictions]

The Wolf, The Stag and The Snake (Book 1)

A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

This fanfiction is about three girls who lives in Westeros and how their lives changed when the War began. Follow Antea Stark, Cassandra Baratheon and Cyel Sand in their adventures. There is more you have just to wait and see. This fanfiction follows only the books.

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Chapter 26

CYEL

“Left, then right. Good, Rickon” Cyel said happily, as she held Rickon’s little hands in hers. The youngest Stark, was feeling lonely, so Cyel had spent most of the mornings with him.  

They were outside, in the gardens. Phelya felt good enough to breath fresh hair, so she was sitting down as her daughter taught Rickon how to dance. The little pup of the Stark family wanted to impress Antea once she would come back home with the Lady.

Robb was tense recently, they all were. The last thing they heard about Lady Stark was that she had taken captive the Imp, but no more than that could be heard. Winds were changing and usually it was never for the best. Cyel had never lived in a period like that, but she feared that everything that was happening was just leading all of them more and more towards a war.

Cyel had talked about it with her mother and that conversation didn’t make her fears disappear.

“We have to trust our lords, Cyel” she had said “That is all we can do at this time”

Even Bran was nervous and he preferred to be alone lately. Cyel didn’t want to push him into talking, but she wasn’t sure it was the right decision... she had never had to handle anything but a happy Bran. It broke her heart see him close in on himself.

“Then one back and one ahead” said Rickon looking at his feet on the ground, making sure to not move wrongly.

“Correct” Cyel stated with a smile, before turning to her mother who nodded her head happily.

Phelya had always enjoyed seeing her daughter dance, since the first time Oberyn Martell taught her how to begin under the hot sun of Dorne.

“Cyel” Maester Luwin’s voice made the girl stop her movements to turn towards the man “Robb is asking for your presence” she tried to understand what the situation could be just by looking the maester, but she really couldn’t tell, she just felt worried. In the last period whenever Robb wanted to talk with her it was never a positive conversation. A while back four of lord Stark’s guardsmen had come back with Lady’s bones. It had been a very sad day, knowing that Sansa had lost her direwolf. Cyel remembered Summer, Shaggydog and Grey Wind howling, it almost made her cry, and when sweet Lady had been buried under the shadow of First Keep, where the Stark let rest their faithful servants who had passed away, her brothers moved around like ghosts, quietly mourning.  

Cyel missed the days where Robb called for her just to walk in the gardens and exchange happy words with one another.

“No” Rickon complained as Cyel nodded her head. The girl felt bad leaving him, he wasn’t understanding and lately he had become even more rebellious than usual.

“Little lord” said Phelya with her harmonious voice “I would like to dance with you” Rickon looked at the woman blinking his big blue eyes.

“Do you?” he asked before Phelya nodded with a sweet smile.

“I’ll stay with Rickon” she said to her daughter “Do not worry”

“Are you sure, mother?” asked Cyel, not wanting for her mother to tired herself, but Phelya giggled.  

“We are going to have a lot of fun” she said pocking Rickon’s side who chuckled.

“Thank you” Cyel said before walking to the maester.

They made their way towards the main hall quietly, speaking a few words every now and then, but Cyel could see that the man looked pensive. She wasn’t sure he knew what that was about, but either way both of them were feeling uneasy.

What else can happen?

Cyel asked herself, barely remembering the days they had spent all together and happily in those walls. It hadn’t been that long, but it felt like ages.

Maester Luwin opened the heavy wooden door for Cyel, letting her pass. Inside there were Robb standing, pacing back and forth as both Theon and Bran observed him, with unsure expressions. Cyel looked at Theon as if to ask what was happening, but the older boy shook his head. Bran’s gaze didn’t leave his brother, studying his every move.

“Robb” she said cautiously getting closer to the young lord, who had a piece of parchment clenched in his fist. He seemed shocked, without words as his blue eyes met her brown ones “What ails you, my lord?” she asked with soft voice. He looked at her, pain in his eyes, almost distress that scared Cyel, but she did her best to not let it show.

“This letter arrived” he said turning to the two boys “Marked with Father’s own seal, but it’s written from Sansa” Cyel and Bran’s eyes met for a moment, before the younger lord’s ones got back to his brother with discomfort. Theon nodded his head with a frown, waiting for his friend to keep speaking.

“She says Father conspired of treason with the King’s brothers” at Robb disgusted words, Cyel covered her mouth with her hand as to suffocate a sound that never came, it seemed impossible for her to say a word.  

Treason?

It was impossible. Lord Stark would have never done something of that sort. He and the King were friends.

“King Robert is dead” Robb kept saying “And Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear fealty to Joffrey” Cyel saw Theon shooking his head, biting his lips “She says we must be loyal, and when she marries Joffrey, she will plead him to spare our lord’s Father’s life”  

It seemed like a nightmare. What was happening in King’s Landing? And if they had arrested Lord Stark what was of Sansa and Arya? Where were they keeping them? If their father was believed to be a traitor, that made them traitors too. Then why was Sansa talking about marring Joffrey? The Queen surely wouldn’t want a traitor as her son’s wife.  

“And she says nothing about Arya, nothing” Robb said.

Cyel couldn’t make a reasonable thinking. Treason was an outrageous charge, dangerous. Lord Stark could die... the girls could die. Arya could already be dead by now.

“Damn her!” Robb exclaimed  

“Robb!” Cyel found herself saying, but the young Stark insisted.

“You think it too” he said “What’s wrong with the girl?”  

“We don’t know what is happening” Cyel said with a stronger voice than she thought she possessed “We only know that they are charging Lord Stark, they have him captive, we can’t know what is of Sansa”

“This is her hand writing” Robb argued back.

“Maybe she was forced to” Cyel said. There must had been an explanation for that letter, they couldn’t possibly trust Sansa if her father was believed a traitor.  

“She lost her wolf” Bran whispered sadly making Cyel walk towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bran’s gloomy eyes looked up at her, before going back in his thoughts.

“They just want to lure you to go South” Theon said walking closer to Cyel “It had happened before”

Theon was right, and surely Robb remembered what had happened to Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon, the father and the brother of Eddard Stark. All of them and all the North remembered that they had been summoned at the Red Keep by the Mad King that had killed them both and the guardsmen that had accompanied them, that was the reason why the North had gone to battle against the Crown in the last war.

“None of them has ever come back” said Bran in a whisper.

Robb passed a hand on his auburn hair, in distress. He was just fifteen and he had on his shoulders the weight of deciding what they had to do; going South to oath loyalty or to war. He turned his back at them, trying to understand what to do. Cyel’s hand was still on Bran’s shoulder as Theon’s gaze never left the young lord.

“Maester” Robb said finally.

“Yes, my lord” the maester said with grave voice.

“We’ll go South, to Riverrun, with our sword in hand” he said with strong voice, making Cyel shiver “Call the banners” the girl turned to Theon who was proudly looking at his friend.  

“My lord” the maester said bowing before exiting the room.

Silence fell in the room as the wooden door closed, making the sound seemed loud at Cyel’s ears. They were going to war, both Robb and Theon would have left to fight on the battlefield. A battle, a real battle, not the one they pretended to fight as they were children, with sticks or wooden swords. That was real, they were going to risk their life.  

We are just children...

Her eyes look down at Bran, whose fists were clenched and white.

“Bran” she said in a whisper.

“Someone has to tell Rickon” Bran said to his brother, who nodded.

“I will” he assured, before turning to Cyel “I will need your help, Cyel” she nodded waiting for her lord to command her.

“The Houses of the North will be here soon” he said doing his best to keep a straight voice “I will need you to arrange the Castle” he shivered for a moment, it broke her heart “It... usually is the duty of the lady, but.... nor Mother or... Antea...”

“I shall have everything prepared for our noble lords, my lord” she said before bowing at him and heading out of the main hall.    

They had been tiring days those she had to face up the next days. Now everyone in Winterfell knew what was happening to their lord, and what Robb had decided. Cyel was sure that they had written to Lady Catelyn and she couldn’t stand the thought of the Lady knowing that her eldest son was about to fight a war. And she felt pained to think about Antea.

I wish they were here.  

Servants often asked her for a word of comfort, to know what they had to expect from all of that. The girl was doing her best not to let anyone getting too worried, but how could she when she was the first one to be terrorized?

We are just children

“My lady, we have prepared the wheat as you commanded” Heren said bowing to her.

“Everyone have answered they will come” Cyel said taking a breath “I do not know how many people will be in here”  

She had been preparing everything for days now. She went to sleep late and woke up early. She wasn’t taking her lessons anymore, being too busy making sure that everything was ready for the nobles that were arriving. It was important for the host to give his guests the best meat and wheat, water and wine. A guest was sacred under the roof.

“Candles?” she asked as she walked down the corridors.

“We are preparing the new ones for the guests' arrival” Heren said. Cyel was sure she had already asked the same question before. She felt like it was all a dream, the worst nightmare. It seemed like they were preparing a feast, like they had done in the years back... but thit was an oath of loyalty for war. War... she had just heard of it in stories or songs. But usually there, a great hero arrived and saved the day, helping everyone, saving everyone... But this was real life and many people had already died, others were about to get killed and many others were about to leave to fight. She could just trust and wait, and be there for them. Servants were already talking to her as if she was the Lady of the Castle. It was overwhelming, what was it that she was doing? She was just twelve.

“My lady!” Heren exclaimed as Cyel fall on her knees in the corridor.  

Even Rickon was becoming even wilder after Robb talked to him, he cried, screamed and fought with everyone. And Bran was closing himself in. Since what had happened in the woods, with the Wildlings, he was angrier, and quieter. He wanted to be left alone most of the time and she didn’t know how to help him.    

“I do not even know what I am doing, Heren” the girl said closing her eyes, covering her face with one of her hands “I wish Lady Catelyn was here” she would have known what to do. How to get everything ready, helping her children and Robb and giving comforting words to her people.

“My lady” she said kneeling in front of her “Do not feel like this, my lady. You are giving us hope”

“How?” she asked surprised of her words.

“You smile, no matter what is happening” she said nodding her head “And you are managing to get everything set. Lord Robb entrusted this to you, he trusts you with this and all of us with him” Cyel’s eyes watered, she would have never thought she would have found herself in that situation. But she had to be strong. She was Oberyn Martell’s daughter.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

What was she doing on the floor? Robb and Theon were going to fight in battle and Bran would become Lord of Winterfel. She had to do her best, do everything she could to make the people feel safe and let their guests feel welcomed.

“Forgive me, Heren” Cyel said finally standing up “I let my nerves get the best of me. It will not happen again” she assured with a smile.

And she kept her word. At the first house’s arrival everything was ready and Robb had kind words for her work. He went to welcome the bannermen as Cyel took her very first sleep after days. She slept most of the day, but was ready for the feast they had prepared. The Umbers were there, the Glovers and others, even her uncle’s House of Rosemberg. She had greeted him at the feast as she next to Bran, who was occupying the place of honor at his brother’s right hand. People looked at him as he entered the room on Hodor’s back. Cyel could see him blush, but keep a straight face, trying not to pay much attention to their gazes. It was the first time for other nobles to see his new condition. Cyel observed them, looking, some were whispering and it pained her. And in her mind, she damned the Lannisters.

“My lord” she said bowing in front of Hodor and Bran, who looked at her with surprise.

“Cyel..”

“Shall we sit?” he nodded at her question, before the two of them set and started dine.  

Sitting next to her was her mother, it was the first time since she got ill that she enjoyed a feast. They started to dine after Robb’s speech of welcoming and gratitude. Bran smiled at Cyel as he named her the banners that he had learned.

“Do you know how many knights are come?” he asked, but she shook her head. It had been days since the last time the two of them had spent a small amount of time together.

“I do not”  

“Maester Luwin told me that to be a knight it is necessary to stand the vigil on a sept and be anointed with the seven oils to consecrate the vows” he explained with the same light that shined his eyes every time he talked about knights and stories.

“North men believe in the Old Gods though” she said taking a sip of her water.

“Indeed” Bran nodded “Only few believe in the Seven, the others are not knights. Maester Luwin says that in the North a man is not marked for a ser before his name”

“And what do you think?” she asked with a smile.

“I would like a ser before my name” he said “But I don’t think that other men are not valiant enough”  

Cyel observed him “Do you really want to be a knight, don’t you?”

“You mean I would have liked to” he said bitterly eating the meat in his plate. She bit her lips.

“Apologize” she said “I had no intention to...”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not you” he said looking down “This is how people will look at me right now. This is what I am.”  

Cyel was looking at Bran from across the room as she had stood up. That had been the first time he had talked to her about his legs, he had never open up about it, keeping it to himself, thinking of it all alone. She felt sorry for what she had said, she didn’t want to hurt him.  

It was true. Bran’s conditions were permanent and people would have always looked at him like that, but it was irrelevant. Bran hadn’t changed in her eyes; he was smart and he had strong opinions for his age, he observed and he understood. He listened and people loved him. There was nothing different to her.

“My dear niece” her Uncle’s voice made her turn. Amhet Rosemberg and his always blue attaier.

“Uncle Amhet” she greeted “It’s such a joy for us to have you”

“I prayed it would have happened in a more joyful time” at his words she nodded her head.

“All of us”  

Soon Phelya joined them and the two siblings greeted each other with a hug and a kiss on their cheeks. Phelya couldn’t hide her worry for her brother’s life, but both of them where move by the hope of freeing their good Lord.

“It is outrageous what the Lannister had accused Lord Stark of” he said “We are going to free him and his sweet daughters”

“And the Lannisters have to hope you will” Phelya said “Because the North remembers and we will not forgive them for this”

Northerners were loyal to the Starks, no one would have ever forgiven a Lannister for this. And Cyel would have not forgiven many more crimes of that family.

“But tell me more pleasant words, dear niece” her uncle said, making the girl turn from Bran “How are you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have pleasant words in this moment, my sweet uncle” she said taking a breath “Lately just worry it’s all I feel”

“They are our Lords” he said solemnly before smiling at her “But is it the single motive?”

“Amhet” Phelya warned “Not now”

“My niece is going to became a Stark one day” Amhet said with a sort of pride in his voice “Is it lord Robb who you belong to?” Cyel frowned. Her uncle had always been eager for her marriage. He always said that because Oberyn Martell was a Prince, it didn’t matter her name, she had the same possibilities of high-born ladies. Cyel knew that her family, all her family would have gain prestige by her marriage, but she wasn’t used to feel that pressured inside the walls of Winterfel.

“He is not” she said before bowing “I’ll take my leave now”

“Little Brandon?” she heard her uncle say as she walked away “But... now he is...”  

Bran’s life won’t be easy from now on...

Her Lady’s words came back in her mind. The last time she had seen Lady Stark, she had made a promise; to help him and protect him. And she would, like she had promised.  

She touched the neckless Bran had given her for her name day. She wore it every day ever since, it was very dear to her.

A few days later, all of the Bannermen had arrived, the Karstarks were the last House they were waiting. Winterfel was full of people. And in a few mornings, Robb and all the men would have gone away. Bran was quieter, probably worried for his brother.

“Good day, little girl” she was taking two waffles for herself and Bran in the kitchen, when Osha, the wildling woman appeared next to her. Since she had arrived, Robb had sent her to work in the kitchen, she wore iron on her legs, but she moved quieter than a cat.

“Did I scare you, little one?” she asked seeing that Cyel hadn’t said anything.

“Good day, Osha” she said “You’ve startled me”  

“Hungry, are we?” Cyel looked at her plate with a small smile.

“It’s for Brandon too”

“The boy?” she asked, making Cyel nod with a frown “I’ve talked to him earlier. He was in the Godswood talking to the Gods” He was praying for Robb surely. Cyel had done the same, both in the Godswood and at the Seven. And she hoped that someone would have listened to them.

“It is the only thing we can do now” Cyel said taking the plate and moving away.

“The road is wrong” Osha said making her stop “I’ve already told the little boy; his brother should be going North” Cyel frowned at her words, what did she mean? What was she talking about?

Still not understanding she arrived in front of Bran’s room. Going North, why should Robb go North? Now that she thought about that, Osha was leaving the North with the other Wildlings that had attacked Bran. What were they running from?

“Hi” she said entering that room, where she saw Bran sitting on his bed.

“Cyel” he said.

“I’ve brought you a waffle” she said “I hoped we could eat together”  

“I’d like that” he said with a small smile.

They sat there quietly eating, it didn’t feel quite right. There had never been silence since they had met. She observed him for a moment before talking.

“It pains me to see you so pensive” at her words he looked up at her “I know that I cannot understand what you are going through, but I’d like to help you” he stayed silent for a moment.

“You can’t help me, Cyel” he said sadly.

“Then I’ll just listen” Bran frowned a moment as she talked “What is it that is troubling you?”

Bran bit his lips, before eating another piece of his waffle. She really wanted for him to open up, they had always talked, but this was the first time in their life that they had to talk about serious matters. She remembered that once what troubled them most was Maester Luwin’s next lesson. She missed those days.

“Tonight, Robb won’t be at the feast” Bran finally spoke, looking away, out of the window “I’ll have to be the host, but... they will all look at me” Cyel quietly listened “Maester Luwin told me they will look, and they will talk, and they will mock. I know they will, they’ve already done it” Cyel nodded her head, she knew they would have, she knew they did.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked carefully as he looked away.  

Bran scrolled his shoulders “Let them mock” he said surprising her “I can’t avoid it. I mean, I would. But I would have had to stay in this chamber forever and I will not live my life in bed”  

Cyel was always surprised at Bran’s strenght. He was leaving a nightmare, in every aspect of his life, but he still looked up, facing ahead.

“It’s that, they assumed I’m just a broken thing” he said bitterly “Bran the broken”

Bran... She knew he was suffering, but it was terrible to hear it for real.

“I don’t want to be broken, Cyel” he said fiercely “I want to fly, like the crow said”

The crow in his dream. Fly or die, it had said. He survived, but he couldn’t move.

“You must think I’m a stupid” he said “Like Maester Luwin”

Cyel took his hand “Don’t you ever say that” she said “I know how it feels, to feel overwhelmed, not enough. To feel scared”

Bran frowned “You don’t have to feel like that, there is nothing wrong with you”

Cyel smiled at him “And I know that you won’t believe me but, I think there is nothing wrong with you too”  

The boy scoffed “I doubt it”

“But it’s true” she assured “You are strong, Bran” he looked at her with wide eyes and a faint blush.

“But... what it’s going to be?” he asked after a moment.

“Nor me, nor you can tell” she said shaking her head “But we’ll figure it out, together if you want”

“Even if I’m broken?” he asked blinking his eyes as she nodded.

“And will you help me, even if I am a bastard?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. Then she pulled out her pinky at him.

“So, let’s promise that we’ll always help each other” she said with a smile as he took her pinky in his.

“You promise to help me find the children of the forest, so I can learn magic” he said with a smile “And I promise to always protect you and look after you, so that you don’t feel scared anymore”

“Alright” she said with a smile, looking at their intertwined pinkies.  

Two days later they were outside to say goodbye to Robb and Theon. Cyel had hugged Theon close at her in his room. He was like a brother to her.

“Please, come back” she said as her face was pressed in his fur.

“Do not fear, little one” he said passing a hand in her hair “I’ll be back soon” she wiped away her tears as they went to the stables to say their farewell at the gate on the back of their horses. Robb was there with his armor, sword on his hip, on his horse. Cyel got closer to him with her horse, bowing her head at the Lord of Winterfel.

“Come back soon, Robb” she said with tears in her eyes. Robb took her hand and kissed her forehead.

“I will” he said with a smile “Take care of Bran” he said looking behind her shoulders “He’ll need you.”

“We’ll take care of each other, Robb” she said “I promise.”

She moved her horse so that she could stand next to Bran, who was strapped atop of Dancer. Rickon wasn’t there, he refused to, saying that no one ever came back.  

“You are the lord in Winterfell now” Robb said to Bran “You must take my place, as I took Father’s, until we come home.”

“I know” he answered sadly, he must have felt very scared. The two of them had talked even about his fears of becoming Lord, he felt like it wasn’t his place. He had said that Winterfell was Robb’s. Bran felt like he didn’t know how to be a lord.

“Listen to Maester Luwin’s counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I’ll be back as soon as the fighting is done.” Robb said “I’ll bring back Father, I promise.”

And with that Robb marched away with Theon and the Northerners, ready to battle.

Take them back, prayed Cyel. And, make them all be back safe.

[a-libra-writes]

How the GoT Characters React To You Being Very Affectionate

So the original request was “HCs for characters being touch starved” and I dont think all of them would be necessarily so I kinda just did this? Sorry to that anon lol I did my best. we are slooowly working through the GoT request pile

In this preference, you’ll be doting on: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Podrick Payne, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

Initially, your affections and sweetness were a little overwhelming for him. He wasn’t used to such attention, but he really didn’t mind them. Even when he teased you about being so close and touchy in front of all his bannermen, he wouldn’t change it about you. Ned’s favorite thing is when you’d find him in the middle of the day and touch his face to reassure him, he liked to lean into your hand and enjoy your touch before he had to return to his duties. You had a feeling that Ned was only nervous about it at first because he was being bashful, but once he was comfortable, he loved the evenings when you sat in his lap and freely kissed and touched him.  

ROBB STARK

Robb loves how open you are about affection and he feels so, so lucky that the gods gave him such a sweet wife. While he has to maintain his "strict" lordly facade when speaking to his men and other lords, he's more than relieved to melt into your touch at the end of the day. Whenever you’re by his side, holding his arm and beaming, he’s so proud and in love that he doesn’t even notice the eye rolling whenever you kiss his cheek or his hand. It honestly helps Robb get through the weight of the war and he sees you as a source of strength, rather than a weakness, as many less worthy lords would think.

SANSA STARK

Back when she first met you, Sansa loved how unashamed you were of affection. Some in court may see it as weakness, but still today she sees it as proof of your great compassion. Your touches and hugs comforted her greatly when you were friends, and when you became lovers, your soft words and kisses are just what she needed to bolster her spirit and be strong. Sansa takes great amusement in the fact you both can hold hands, sit close and whisper to each other and the court writes it off as "just close friends". She's happy and grateful to have such an affectionate, romantic partner, and she tells you often. Sometimes it’s difficult for her to return those honest gestures, but she knows you understand.

JON SNOW

Jon was completely flustered at first; even if it was a quick hug and kiss, he’d get red and stumble out whatever he was saying. At first he thought it was just because you were a girl, and he didn’t have much experience with those, but even just simple touches like holding his hand or brushing his messy hair out of his face would get his heart beating. Jon would realize that he’d never had so much attention and concern before, and while he liked it very much, he’d have a few moments of total surprise before happily returning the affection, albeit clumsily. Sometimes when you’re just holding his hand while talking, he’ll get distracted and grin at your connected hands, amazed he’s so lucky to have found someone like you at a place like this.

BENJEN STARK

Benjen adores this part of your personality, and he always takes it a step further just to tease you. Other times he’ll hold you close and not want to let you, giving you a taste of his own naturally affectionate nature. He’s glad you both are compatible like this, since there are times when you can’t see each other for a long time, and he loves that you’re just as willing to make up for lost time. Whenever you both have a long time alone, good luck being apart from him - aside from intimacy, he likes just having you in his lap or leaning on him. Tease him for being clingy all you want, he just gestures to your arms around him and says, “Well, that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it?”

JORY CASSEL

While it initially flustered him to no end and took him off guard more than once, Jory easily adapted to your touches. He was glad you loved him that much, and you weren’t afraid to show it. Sometimes … okay, really often, he’s gently teased for it by his uncle and the other guards, but he wouldn’t change you at all. When Jory is feeling more bold he’ll return the light kisses, regardless of whose around. He’ll let you hug and touch and kiss to your heart’s content when you both are alone, and before long he’s total putty in your hands and will do whatever you please.

EDDISON TOLLETT

It always made him nervous when you’d take his hand to get his attention, or when you stood so close, which was often. Edd used to chalk it up to you being a girl, and from a better family, besides… But once you two were alone more and spent time together, he realized you were just a naturally touchy, affectionate person. Eventually he realized his nerves were from a damn crush. Before you were officially together, he watched you carefully, hoping you weren’t giving so many sweet touches to your other friends (you weren’t, and that’s what gave him the courage to talk with you about his feelings… that, and Sam all but shoved him to do it). Edd totally relishes in your affection, as he’s been lacking it in for years.

MANCE RAYDER

Mance enjoys how sweet you are, and thinks it’s amusing that such a young woman would want to lavish her kisses and touches on an old former crow like him. He always indulges you and even during meetings, he’ll let you sit as close as you want. Once you both are alone, he takes comfort in how easily you fit in his lap and how you rest your head against his chest. It gives him a warm feeling, one that feels like home … Something he hadn’t felt so strongly in a while. His favorite thing is when you doze off next to him, as nothing helps him think through his plans better than your scent and softness. 

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

Oh, Tormund can’t get enough of you, and he’s delighted that you’re just the same. He thinks this just further proves how perfect you are for each other, and he’ll say it loud and proud as he holds you up in his arms and spins you around. Yes, the other tribes are exhausted with you two and find you nauseating … but the last man who complained had two punches to dodge. Tormund especially likes that it isn’t just lustful touches and looks; he adores that you’ll kiss and hold him just because you want to, for no reason other than you’re in love. Everyone knows when he’s thinking about it because he grins like a dork and seems lost in his own world.

THEON GREYJOY

At first, he’d always use your frequent touches as a way to brag to Robb and Jon about how you prefer him. You were flirting, obviously, and you must have wanted to be with him. The thing he didn’t tell them is how much you puzzled him, because your touches were so … kind. Gentle, even, when you brushed a leaf out of his hair or took his hand to look at a cut. He didn’t know what to do, and his usual ego was no help. He’d never been cared for so gently like that. Your kisses were worse because they gave him such a foreign, fluttery feeling, he thought he was getting sick, yet he kept yearning for it. You’d be able to get past Theon’s usual bragging and discover an amusing, needy side as he’d follow you around, almost waiting for you to hug or touch him again.

YARA GREYJOY

On one hand, Yara has her tough captain’s reputation to maintain, so she has little patience if you have a need for her while she’s working. She can’t be seen accepting your kisses and hugs, no matter how much she yearns for them. She understands you might be hurt by this, but she’d hope you’d understand. Besides, she more than makes up for it later in the evening. Even if Yara might consider you needy, there is a comfort in how readily you give your affection and how much you enjoy touching her. She can’t remember having a partner who kissed her so sweetly, not just lustfully, and of course her family didn’t give her so much reassurance. Her appreciation for it only increases when she’s drunk, because you’re going to sit in her lap and there will be no escape, so touch and kiss however you like, she’ll just laugh and go along with it.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

When she was in the throne room, carrying her heavy queenly persona, Daenerys couldn’t afford to glance your way and seem distracted. Once there was finally a chance to be alone together, Daenerys just soaked up the affection you gave her. She loved that no matter what terrible thing happened to you, your nature stayed loving and doting. She admired that. When her duties felt like too much, she relished in being able to curl up in your arms and feeling your fingers run through her hair. She makes sure you feel loved too, of course, but she’s so grateful you let her be selfish now and again and just take up all your attention. She often tells you what you mean to her, and anyone can see the way she looks at you.

JORAH MORMONT

Oh, poor sweet Jorah. He’s so overwhelmed by the affection at first, it completely distracts him from what he’s doing, even if all you’re doing is coming up behind him for a surprise hug and kiss. He leans into your touches so eagerly and it confuses you, because wasn’t he married once or twice? Still, it’s cute how weak you can get him, and you definitely take advantage when you’re teasing him or trying to get his attention. In the evenings, Jorah will waste little time in pulling you into his lap and muttering how sweet you are and how much he adores you, usually making the affection lead into something more. More than once you two end up getting lost in your own world and forget who's around you; only to be reminded by the Dothraki whooping and laughing. Truthfully, Jorah is very happy that you’re just as doting in public are you are in private. 

MISSANDEI

Your closeness and touches made her heart flutter and her hands get clammy, and it confused her at first. She’d be touched inappropriately, always against her will, but you always asked before you held her hand or hugged her. You were always so warm, and you smelled nice, and why were you hugging her, anyway? Missandei liked it more than she wanted to admit, but she wondered why. Once Jorah and Daenerys gave her enough hints, and you finally gave your confession, she realized she hadn’t been touched so sweetly and innocently before. Even after you’ve been together for a while, it’s the gentle cuddles and chaste touches that Missandei likes best. You don’t miss how she nuzzles against you when you cradle her against your chest.

GREY WORM

When you first took his hand as he escorted you through the market, you thought you overstepped your bounds. He just stared at your entwined hands, not even noticing the bustling activity around him. There were other times when you’d hold his face while cleaning a wound on his cheek, or sit close to him at a meeting table, and you could swear he stopped breathing. Grey Worm never told you to keep away, but he also looked so much like a caught animal that you felt bad. In truth it made Grey Worm so nervous when you touched him, and he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to react. No one else did this to him, and you rarely did the same to others as far as he observed. Finally Missandei noticed his palpable confusion and helped him work out his feelings. When you two are together, Grey Worm never denies the affection you want to give, though sometimes he’s clearly startled or confused by it. He slowly begins to return it on his own terms, squeezing your hand back, resting against your shoulder, or gently touching your back as you two walk. It takes time, but you slowly get to see his shoulders relax and a soft smile appear on his face. 

TYWIN LANNISTER

As anyone would have expected of this man, he’s clearly proud to have you on his arm during social gatherings. You’ll sit close at the dais, sometimes leaning in closer to whisper something to him. The whole of the court gossips about your relationship enough, and you give them plenty of material with your affections. Tywin stays passive, although after a while he began to brush your hair aside and stroke your hand. Privately he continues to tell himself it’s for show and means nothing. That works until you both are intimate or enjoying a rare moment of peace together and he finds himself wanting you to stay close. He lets you cuddle close and kiss and touch, denying how much it affects him to the very end. It’s bad enough he has to contend with your wit and schemes during the day, he doesn’t need more reasons to become attached to you.

TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion drinks in your affection like a man crawling in a desert; you figured that out quickly. You figured he was a naturally kind and loving person, and he was clearly taken with you, and you wouldn’t deny him the affection that came naturally to you. After a while you began to see how much he depended on it, how much he needed it. In private you gave him all he wanted - sometimes he still struggled to ask for it openly, you so took the lead - and in public you had to be careful. Not just because the court found your marriage a great joke and it was exhausting to deal with their gossip, but because it distracted Tyrion so much when you held his hand and gave him a simple kiss during a feast. He’d never grow tired of your attention and would tell you again and again how much he adored you for it.

JAIME LANNISTER

He relishes how affectionate you are and returns it tenfold, and more often than not ends up getting turned on and wants to take it further. While you’re fine with that, sometimes you just want to express your love. It doesn’t have to lead to anything more. Jaime was confused by this when you explained it - he tried to think back when someone kissed his cheek, stroked his hair or hugged him … just because they loved him. He especially needed that love and attention when he came back from the Dreadfort, and didn’t feel at all foolish asking for it, but he rarely needed you. You just always knew when to hold him, as if he needed more reasons to love you even more.

SANDOR CLEGANE

The first time you held his face to bring him closer, he flinched like it hurt. You noticed he was more willing to accept your touches when you were in bed together, and even then, his rough pace would slow and falter as you kissed him and brought him closer. To say Sandor was unused to affection is an understatement; he hated the panicky, anxious feeling it gave him, and his instant thought was to push you away when it happened. The feeling wasn’t a welcome one, but your touch and warmth was, so needless to say just simple touches gave him a mix of feelings. He tries to be gruff, but as time goes on he starts to just lean and melt into you, especially when you both are alone. He doesn’t want to ask for it, but you can tell he’s yearning when he sits around just staring and sulking at you.

BRONN OF BLACKWATER

At first he brushed it off as you just being one of those silly women, and you’d get tired of doting on him eventually. He thought you were trying to get something from him, but he didn’t have much to offer a lady besides the bed, which you weren’t always trying to get in. It confused Bronn when you kept doing this, and he denied himself how much the attention began to affect him. He started to get used to them, to want them, and he overcame these weird feelings by pulling you to his lap and trying to initiate something deeper. Pretty soon Bronn couldn’t deny what your affection meant, and began working out a way to tell you that you ought to do better than him. It was for himself as much as you, he wasn’t ready for this, but then you’d wrap your arms around him and the thoughts quickly left his head.

PODRICK PAYNE

You had to be careful when you were sweet on him and where, because the poor boy would redden to his ears and try to stammer something, if he could manage words at all. You thought it was cute that even after knowing each other for so long, Pod never got used to your affectionate nature. Sometimes when he’s working he gets distracted thinking about you, leading to him spacing out or making mistakes. Once you’re together, he begins to slowly gain confidence, although you’re still the one who usually initiates things first. Holding your hand or arm while you two take walks is his favorite, he feels all his anxiety slowly melt away.

PETYR BAELISH

Oh, he can’t hide how much he adores your attention. He tries to keep his cool, but the more you lean on him and look up through those pretty lashes, the less Petyr can resist giving you whatever you please. In private, he can’t keep himself from pulling you closer to keep encouraging you. All you need to do is act your usual, sweet self and you have him wrapped around your finger. When you both are intimate, his greediness is even more evident, he wants your hands on him and sometimes he even trembles from all the attention. Sometimes he breathlessly asks you not to tease him so much, but you know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

STANNIS BARATHEON

He hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do. You noticed that right away when he flinched anytime you expressed your affection. You outright asked Stannis if you should stop, and it’s not that he hated it, it was just… It was so new, he wasn’t sure how to react. It was difficult to dial back your naturally affectionate nature, but you did, taking things slower. Gradually Stannis began to enjoy the attention and return it in his own way, and he let you be as clingy and sweet as you wanted when you were intimate. He couldn't express it well with words, but he began to look forward to your embrace and anxiously yearn for your presence whenever he had to travel. Whenever you stood by his side during meetings, close enough that your shoulders brushed and he could feel your warmth, he’d feel a distinct sense of security and confidence. 

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Davos finds you incredibly endearing, and he’s always considered himself lucky to have you, but he’s not always sure if he deserves your affections. You have so much of it, and he often wonders if you ought to be giving it to a younger man of a better station. Of course anytime he has these thoughts, you’re right there to reassure him and make sure he knows there’s no one else for you. He “scolds” you for being cheeky whenever you show affection in public, but in private he lets you do whatever you please. He can’t get enough of your cuddles in the evening and how you just curl under his touch, he thinks he might be the luckiest man alive.

MARGAERY TYRELL

Oh, Margaery thinks you’re just a doll. She loves teasing you about it, but she’s the one who pushes things and sees how much you two can get away with. The court assumes you’re just “good friends”, although her grandmother has given her plenty of scoldings about the rumors floating around Highgarden. Margaery loves being spoiled by your attention and often waits expectantly for a kiss or hug - you can get back at her by “forgetting” and walking past her. If she had her way, you’d be draped around her all day, fawning over her and she’d give you sweet praises and pets in return. No, this mental image is not awakening anything in her, don’t ask. 

BRYNDEN TULLY

The old knight thought he was too old for things like this, which is to say, a beautiful lady doting on him and wanting his affection. For a short while he thought you should give your attention to someone else, but as the relationship went on, he felt like an idiot for thinking that at all. When you hold and kiss him, Brynden just melts into the warmth and comfort. He loves the more gentle touches you have, like when you hold his face as you kiss him or rest against his chest and curl up in his lap. Half the time he can’t even make a jap about your neediness, because he feels he needs it just as much. He loves feeling your warm skin under his rough hands and it’s even better if you start getting hot and bothered from all his touching.

EDMURE TULLY

Edmure loves it because he’s just as absurdly affectionate and touchy feely, and it makes him giddy with happiness when you take his face in your hands and just hold him like that, you don’t even have to kiss him. All of Riverrun knows how sappy you both are and it’s both sweet and just sickening. Brynden can’t decide if he’s amused or annoyed by it and Catlyn just dies inside at the ‘impropriety’ of you two mooning over each other at dinner. You two have quite a reputation in the Riverlands for being such a loving couple, and the smallfolk adore you. 

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Your knight had such a strong reaction to your touches that you thought she hated it at first. You’d do something simple, like brush her hair out of her face to better see a bruise or hold her hand when speaking to her, and her face would go red as an apple. With great difficulty, Brienne finally explained that she didn’t hate it, she just … Well, she trailed off, but you could tell she felt like she didn’t deserve such attention. It’s worse once she realizes her feelings, she gets so flustered and starts to read into every action you take, wanting it to mean something, but positive that she was just projecting. You’d have to take the first step in confessing and reassuring her. 

RAMSAY BOLTON

He used to take advantage of this, grasping you when you came close to brush something off his tunic or fix his hair. As much as Ramsay’s clingy nature could be suffocating, you were always an affectionate person, and you felt it was all you’d get in the Dreadfort. However, you began to notice that he’d be off-put by your genuine concern and softer touches. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, trying to puzzle out why you were doing it. He didn’t think he disliked it, he wanted your attention all the time, it just gave him such a startling feeling. After a while you were able to calm Ramsay’s more unstable moods by just keeping hold on him and distracting him with touches. Whenever something pulled him away from the Dreadfort, he'd grow antsy with each passing day, both from wanting to be back in your arms and not understanding why he wanted it.

ROOSE BOLTON

Even if you weren’t pleased with the arranged marriage, you couldn’t help but hold Roose’s arm as you both walked, or gently touch him to get his attention. You steadily got a little bolder, because you noticed there was a brief, strange look in his cold eyes anytime you touched him. You knew he didn’t dislike it because when you slept together, he’d almost shudder as you ran your hands along his body. You began to figure out what made him pause the most, what he responded best to, and that’s how you could sway him - just by being considerate, comforting, and a little needy. It was always a surprise how such a cold man began to expect and want the attention, although Roose pretended he didn’t care. He was more honest about his feelings in private, expecting you to give him even more.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn adores that you’re such a sweet and needy thing, and he teases you about it all the time - but you know he’s the same and he wouldn’t change you for anything. He doesn’t care whose in the room, he wants you in his lap and just beams with happiness when you lay your head on his chest or wrap your arms around him. Eventually Doran will please ask you two to reign yourselves in, at least during important dinners and meetings. It’d be up to you to dial it down, because Oberyn will stubbornly want to keep you on his lap or right by his side.

BERIC DONDARRION

While he was initially bashful, Beric quickly began to relish in your affection and seek it out, especially when the day’s events were hard on him. In the evening he loves nothing more than resting next to you, his arm around your waist or letting you sit in his lap. When it’s time to sleep, he feels so much more peaceful when your head is on his chest and he can pet your hair as he slowly dozes off. Beric tells you many times that he’s grateful for your sweetness and warmth, and he gets plenty of it, quietly worrying he’ll forget something one day.

GENDRY

The first time you took his hand to pull him back from running into someone, he nearly dropped what he was holding. You kept holding it as you two walked home, and he was praying you didn’t notice how sweaty his palm was. You were like this as long as he could remember, always giving him hugs and standing so close and holding his hand far beyond the age when you two should’ve stopped. It was never really anything you two discussed, because it was just who you were, and as much as it made him blush, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[lailyn]

Stephen stepped out of the portal, expecting to be assaulted by a flurry of arms anytime now, but they never came. He looked around. The living room was empty.

Their house was never silent. Between Tony's music and the noises of his trade, the clangs and bangs were a normal part of Stephen's life now, one he took comfort in every day. 

And more recently, ever since a bundle of heavenly mischief by the name of Loki joined in the cacophony, it made rolling out of bed in the morning that bit harder, and coming home every evening easier.

He had been blessed, not once, but twice in the search for true love.

Stephen walked down the stairs toward the basement and true enough, he found one of them hunched over a table, hard at work. 

He watched Tony for a while before patting the Cloak of Levitation a few times; he could almost sense its disappointment as the sentient relic flew to give them a moment to themselves.

"How was work today, hun?"

Engrossed in his latest project, Stephen could barely hear Tony's mumbling through his welding helmet. Which was a shame because Stephen could have used a welcome home kiss or two, on the account of his very -

"Shitty day," he sighed. "It's that time of the year again. Wannabe witches and wizards dabbling in things they can't understand. I have to sweep in and clean up all the mess."

"You do it very dramatically though."

Stephen could just see the outline of Tony's suggestive grin through the visor. "The sweeping in."

Stephen only snorted. "You're one to talk. You spent hours talking over the latest colour scheme for Mark XXVII in bed with Loki yesterday when you two were supposed to be sleeping. Green and red? You'll look like a flying Christmas Tree."

"Hey, that was private pillow talk!" Tony protested with an embarrassed chuckle. "It's all about aesthetics, darling. That's why I insist I walk in the middle when we're on the streets."

Tony had a habit of not looking where he was going most of the time, so it was only natural Loki and Stephen be his eyes on the road. Stephen had never really wondered about it, and Loki never really minded getting hit by a car or two in Tony's stead, but now that Tony had brought it up...

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?"

"Ever watched Mean Girls?" At the blank look on Stephen's face, Tony tried again. "Charmed? The one from the 90s, not the reboot?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and I know everything."

"Pretty things always walk in threes, Stephen. And the prettiest one always walks in the middle." 

With a smirk, Tony slid his visor down; he turned the music up and purposely turned his back in the hope that Stephen would miscontrue it as a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. 

"Where's Loki?"

"He's around somewhere," Tony mumbled. "Go look for him, would you? He's going to think we don't care."

Stephen only chuckled and gave Tony one last peck on the top of his head. "Come find us when you're done."

"Will do."

Tony waited until Stephen's form disappeared up the stairs before picking up his soldering iron once more.   

In truth, Tony simply did not want Stephen to see what he was working on.

He may be a little late to the bandwagon but wearing one's lover's colours? Into battle? Tony was sold. Besides, he was only taking a page out of Renly Baratheon's book. 

(Who, according to Loki, had taken to wearing the stag of Baratheon in the fight against his brother Stannis, but in the colours of House Tyrell, obviously an homage to his lover Ser Loras.)

In Lokispeak, that meant Tony'd better be wearing Loki's colours the next time they went into battle together. And Tony Stark was not going to be outshined by a fictional character.

Mark XXVII was going to have the most gorgeous chest plate in metallic navy blue. 

(Because hello, two lovers! Beat that, Renly!)

It matched Stephen's Sorcerer Supreme costume perfectly, and Tony could not wait for the next villain to show up so he could show it off. 

---------------------

The energy signature powering up the wards around the house was strong, indicating that Loki had not left the house, but for some reason, Stephen could not find him anywhere.

He searched high and low, up and down all three storeys of the mansion, but there was neither hide nor tail of his mercurial lover. 

When the search had gone on long enough that pangs of worry were beginning to collect in the pit of his stomach, Stephen knew he had no choice but to resort to magic. 

He began to panic when reading a strand of Loki's hair (he always kept a few on him for moments like this) brought him right where he started, in the middle of an empty living room that felt bigger than ever now that he was utterly alone. 

Okay. Loki was officially missing. 

He was about to raise all hell when he remembered that there was another locating spell he had not tried.

It worked!

Stephen followed the mage light as it led him somewhere into the bowel of the house. He grew more and more curious as the mage light took him down a long hallway, the end of which only had a utility room where they would do the occasional laundry.

Then he saw it, the outline of a sleek Bombay cat inside the washing machine. 

"Oh, Loki…"

It seemed to be sleeping, comfortably ensconced on a small mountain of towels. 

Stephen opened the front load washer and carefully extracted it from its fluffy throne. 

The cat blinked blearily, its eyes a familiar, brilliant green. It meowed in hissy annoyance but settled almost immediately when Stephen held it to his chest. 

"What's the matter? This isn't the place to sleep," he admonished gently, scratching the cat's chin. "It's very dangerous, you know. One of us could have turned it on by mistake."

The cat pawed its way up Stephen's chest until they were eye to eye.

The hovering mage light illuminated the intelligence behind the cat's eyes, as did the Inuit kiss Loki gave Stephen's nose. 

Stephen chanted a word to close the loop on the spell, and the mage light turned into a wisp of golden smoke that disappeared into the bell dangling from Loki's neck.

Stephen fussed with the slightly askew collar to fix it when the pads of his fingers brushed against something; he turned the fine leather outward, revealing the silken lining inside. 

If found, please return to S&S, it read in gold stencil letters. 

He chuckled, remembering the first time Loki shifted and the argument that had ensured between him and their worrywart of a boyfriend.

"What does S&S stand for?"

"Why, Stark and Strange, of course."

"Why can't it be Strange and Stark?"

"Don't you know your alphabets, Doctor? A comes before R."

"Loki thinks it stands for Stephen and Stark," Stephen said triumphantly.

Tony wished he could look into Lokitty's eyes but he had to fasten the collar and check the fit before he could get it engraved, diamond-encrusted, and of course, magically and electronically tagged. "No, he doesn't. And why do you get to be Stephen, and I'm Stark?"

"It was your idea. I'm perfectly happy with S&T." 

Stephen had never been a cat lover, but for Loki he could make an exception. Loki made such a fine, handsome feline. 

"Alphabetically and perfectly happy. Yes, yes, I am." 

"What's all this?" A pair of arms snaked around Stephen's neck from behind. "A party in the laundry room and I wasn't invited?"

Tony then noticed the bundle of fur in Stephen's lap. "Is Loki alright?"

"Yeah. He's just bored."

"And hungry." Loki rematerialised, and now instead of a furball, he was a tangle of arms and legs that quickly held Stephen down in place, but Tony felt equally grounded, such was the intensity of his glare. "You promised we would go fonduing."

Stephen burst out laughing. "Loki, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"What are you talking about? Of course it does!" Tony leaned forward over Stephen's shoulder to give Loki an apologetic kiss on the lips. "Cheese or chocolate?"

Loki's eyes lit up like gems. "Oh goodness, is it my turn to choose?"

"Of course it is, Princess."

Loki nuzzled his forehead against the underside of Stephen's jaw like he had spent too long in cat form and forgotten to hard-reset to factory settings. "Hmm. I feel very spoiled now. I can't decide."

Like Tony, Stephen too was getting better at deciphering Lokispeak. "We'll do both. Cheese for dinner, chocolate for dessert."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's very decadent of you, Doctor. I'm impressed."

"Wouldn't hurt to indulge once in a while."

Stephen stared at Loki's lips and imagined them dripping with cheese, and surely chocolate, later. "It's a convivial affair, fonduing."

"It warms my cockles when you talk dirty," Tony sighed happily.

"Cockles?" Loki's face fell. 

"Just a saying, darling." Tony held out a hand for Loki to take, and hoisted him out of Stephen's lap and off the floor. 

He addressed his next question to his partner who was taking his time picking cat fur off his clothes one by one, no doubt to store away for safekeeping. Every bit of Loki was magic after all.

"Shall we? I forgot to feed the cat today," he said sheepishly.

"That's why it's 'Stephen and Tony', Stark," the Sorcerer Supreme said proudly, and wasted no time demonstrating why. His portal opened up onto a nondescript sidewalk, and across the street was one of Greenwich Village's well-kept secrets, a hidden treasure trove of restaurants and cafes. 

"There!" Tony pointed at a sign that said 'The Melting Pot' in big, flashing letters. 

"Watch out for traffic, Tony," came Stephen's customary warning, but Tony was way ahead of him.

With one hand, Tony grabbed Stephen's hand, "Mine." Then he grabbed Loki's with the other. "Mine."

"All mine," Tony said possessively and pulled them both in.

Together as one, they crossed the street, with the prettiest (arguably) one in the middle, as always.

"Wanna get matching tattooes later?"

"Tony!" "Stark!"

[ajoblotofjunk]

Could you do Feb. or Mar. 19th for Jaime/Brienne? love your writing!!

Thank you. <3 Since this fits so well, this is a follow on to the first sharing a bed prompt.

February 19 - fluff with sharing a bed

“Did you want something?” Brienne asked, and Jaime tried to think of anything besides an entirely inappropriate version of you as an answer. He looked around the room and then down at his feet and remembered his dilemma.

“Pants!” She winced and Jaime lowered his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t pack any sweatpants or anything. I was too scattered when I left. Do you have anything I can borrow to sleep in?”

“I don’t,” she said apologetically. “I only brought these, since it’s summer. It’s always hot here in the summer.”

Of course it was, Jaime groaned internally. That meant three days of her in those shorts, and him having to lie next to her in bed in his uncomfortable jeans. Or those dress slacks, he supposed. Or one of his four pairs of underwear. 

“I guess we better get into bed,” Brienne said, edging towards it as she talked. “Do you have a preferred side?”

“No, I usually just sleep in the middle of mine.”

“What about when you have, um,” her cheeks were pink and red, unevenly colored as an apple. “Women over.”

Jaime snorted. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

She was staring at him with such disbelief he was vaguely offended. “I don’t,” he repeated firmly. “Geeze, Bean, how long have we known each other? You know I don’t sleep around.”

Or she did, at least, before they’d both gotten so busy in the last couple of years that they hadn’t seen each other much at all. It was why he’d wanted to come on this trip so badly. He missed her.

“Okay, well, if you don’t care then I, um, I like to sleep on the right side.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jaime said, considering his pants dilemma again as Brienne sat down on the bed. Then a sudden thought hit him and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Did she have a side of the bed because she had men over?

He stared at Brienne as she set her book down, pulled down the covers and slid her long legs under them, then scrunched her face and pulled them both back out.

“Too hot,” she said when she caught him staring.

“Do whatever you want,” he said too sharply, and she narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything.

Jaime went around to the other side of the bed and sat down, but he was sweating already in his jeans, and lying next to Brienne all night was only going to make that situation worse. Annoyed and frustrated and consumed with a question he knew was entirely inappropriate to ask, he stood and took his pants off. At least his boxers were longer than Brienne’s shorts.

When he turned back to get in, Brienne was gaping, open-mouthed, at him.

“What?” he asked. “Never seen a man in boxers before?”

“No I-I-I,” she grabbed her book and yanked it open, staring intently. “I was just surprised.”

“Surprised that I wear underwear at all?” he asked dryly, and he saw the blush spread down her long neck, across her chest and to her exposed shoulders. He’d missed all of her so much, it took every ounce of willpower not to scoop her into his arms and just hold her. Or more, if she’d let him, but she’d never seemed interested in more than friendship before. She’d certainly never looked at him with quite that wide-eyed look on her face; he would know, he'd been searching for it for years.

Maybe she’d changed in the last two years, too.

Jaime flopped down onto the bed and rolled onto his side to face her. “What are you reading?”

“A book,” she mumbled.

“What’s it about?”

“If you’d let me read it, I could tell you.”

“It looks like you’re halfway through. You don’t know yet?”

Brienne slammed it shut and huffed at him. “What do you want?”

“I’m just talking to you. It’s been a long time, and we haven’t done this in ages.”

“We’ve never done this,” Brienne said, gesturing at the two of them.

“You mean sleep together?” Jaime said, pitching his voice lower to see if it only annoyed her or something else.

Brienne went bright red and bit her bottom lip, but her pupils were dark and she definitely looked all up and down his body before she looked away.

Jaime tried as hard as he could to not get too turned on by it.

“We can talk in the morning. Good night, Jaime,” she said, turning off the light and curling onto her side, facing away from him. The moonlight was enough that he could see the outline of her shape.

“Aw, Bean, come on, at least tell me a bedtime story.”

Her shoulders shook and he heard her snort of laughter. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome and annoying prince who wouldn’t let his royal subjects go to sleep ever. Exhausted and angry, they murdered him and set up a democratic form of government and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.”

“You think I’m handsome,” Jaime said, and as he’d hoped she flopped onto her back to glare at him.

“Still need your ego stroked, I see.”

“I like stroking,” he said. She opened and then shut her mouth several times, before turning back on her side.

“Go to sleep,” she commanded.

“I’m not tired. It’s nine o’clock, who goes to bed at nine at night?”

“People who have early morning jobs.”

“We’re on vacation, live a little.” He scooched a little closer. “Tell me a secret.”

It was a game they’d played since they were little, the two of them talking under tables and bleachers, in closets and bedrooms, over quiet meals and in the middle of loud sports events. One of them - usually Jaime - would ask for a secret, and Brienne would tell him something silly, like she had a pet unicorn no one else could see, and then she’d ask him to tell her one.

When they’d been teenagers, he’d told her about Aerys. A few years ago, she’d told him about Connington.

He had only one secret he wanted to tell her tonight.

"I can't think of any," she said in a shaky, high voice.

"Not one? There's nothing you've been waiting two years to tell me?" he breathed into her ear. She shivered a little, and his attempts at not getting turned on failed spectacularly.

"There's one thing," she said softly, and then she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I have a crush on...on someone."

Jaime's pulse sped up. "Someone? Should we play twenty questions to figure out who it is?"

She didn't say no, so he asked, "Is it a man?"

Brienne nodded.

"Is he on this trip?"

Another nod.

He licked his lips. "Is he in love with Renly Baratheon?"

"I don't know," Brienne said, and then she turned on her back to face him. She looked terrified. "Are you?"

Jaime's face split with a wide smile. "No, not since third grade when he gave me a signed baseball for my birthday that I discovered he had signed himself."

Brienne laughed a little, but the nervous terror still had her in its grip.

"It's my turn," he told her. "Ask me."

"Tell me a secret," she whispered, her eyes scanning his face.

"I really want to kiss my best friend."

The movement of her throat when she swallowed distracted him from his own anxiety for a moment. "Is your best friend a woman?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes."

"Is she on this trip?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"Is she...in love with you?"

Jaime leaned closer, their mouths a breath apart. "I don't know. Are you?"

"For longer than two years," she said just before rising up to press her lips to his.

The bed-sharing turned out to not be a problem at all.

[lostinmirkwood]

Gendrya Kinktober Day 19- Formalwear

Find it on AO3 here.

The first time Arya sees Gendry in a suit is as he’s opening the door to his flat when she arrives to pick him up for Robb and Talisa’s wedding. They haven’t been dating for long but Gendry’s familiar enough with the Starks that Arya feels comfortable enough to bring him as her plus-one to such a formal event. He’s wearing well fitted navy trousers and jacket, under which is a crisp white shirt. His cognac loafers sit near the door while he fiddles with his tie as he opens the door to let her in. They both pause and stare at each other for a moment.

Arya’s hair is swept up into a formal knot for the occasion with a few loose tendrils curling near her neck and Sansa had done her makeup just before she’d left to get Gendry. They’re unintentionally matching Arya realizes as she drops the hem of her dark blue gown she’d been holding so she didn’t trip on her way up the stairs in her heels. Eventually she snaps out of it enough to step forward into his flat. “I just need to tie this and we can go,” he says, gesturing to the silk around his neck, hands making no move to return to their task as his eyes continue to drink her in.

Arya rolls her eyes at him and steps in close, batting his hands out of her way as she takes hold of the ends of his tie. Gendry’s breath stutters for a moment as her nimble fingers make short work of the knot before smoothing down his chest. They settle at his hips for a moment as she looks up at him, still small next to him even in her heels. She gently tugs him even closer before pecking him on the lips and stepping back towards the door with a smile. “Hurry up you silly bull, I can’t be late for my brother’s wedding!”

Gendry shakes his head, trying to clear the light smell of her perfume that had further muddled his thoughts at the sight of her done up. Checking his pockets he gives her a quick pat on the bum as he guides her out the door down to the waiting car. She’s going to be the death of him one day, he swears.

---

Arya gets called away by her mother moments after they arrive and when she returns she finds him surrounded by a few of Talisa’s cousins. She leaves him to fend for himself when she’s called away for pictures before finding him again, her ancient Great Aunt Branda clinging to his arm as she nattered on about gods knew what. Appearing by his side with a plate of canap��s snagged from a passing waiter she traded him the food for her aunt, gently guiding the old woman to her table. Branda pats her hand as Arya sits her down, commenting that Arya had found herself “quite the strapping young lad, were I 70 years younger young lady…”. She steps away to get them drinks and returns to find a law school friend of Robb’s with her hand on his arm as he subtly tries to lean away. Handing him his glass of whiskey she coolly smiles at the woman before taking his arm and dragging him to their table.

“It’s the suit,” she says, with mock condemnation, “they can’t help themselves.”

Gendry looks adorably confused as they weave through the tables, unaware of the appreciative glances from both male and female guests alike in his wake. “What do you mean?” He asks as they find their seats.

“Have you seen yourself today? I knew I’d need to keep a close eye on you or one of these slags might think you’re available to take home!”

Gendry smiles down at her, pulling her chair out and whispering in her ear, “No way, m’lady. You’re the only one I’m taking home tonight.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek as he sits next to her, Bran and Rickon groaning as they see and Gendry’s ears turn a bit pink.

Dinner is delicious. The Starks had clearly spared no expense for the wedding of their eldest child. Everything looked as though it came out of a magazine spread, including the beautiful woman seated next to him, laughing with her younger siblings through the multiple courses. Rickon joked that if all Stark weddings were to be like this he’d run off and live in the woods to escape their mother and a six course dinner menu. Bran declared that he’d just live in sin. Arya snorted into her glass of wine at her brothers’ antics, saying, “If I get married I’m doing it on a beach in Dorne. You all can find out afterwards and help stop Mum from going ballistic.”

---

After another extraction, this time from a particularly enthusiastic bridesmaid who had cornered him near the dance floor, Arya takes Gendry’s hand and pulls him down a hallway. Opening a door seemingly at random she shoves him into an empty lavatory. He sputters an apology as she locks the door behind her. She’s not sure why, she knows he’s not trying for the attention, he’s done nothing but look damn good in that suit. She grabs him by the lapels and pulls him down to her, slamming her mouth into his for an aggressive kiss that shuts him up. Gendry immediately stops talking, kissing her back with enthusiasm.

Arya breaks away enough to say, “I know you aren’t trying, but like I said, you look fucking hot. I’m just claiming what’s mine. Now.”

Gendry grins and pulls her to him again, walking her back until she bumps into the counter. With a small jump he has her set on the edge of the marble so he doesn’t have to bend as much to reach her lips. His tongue slides into her mouth and his hands traverse her back to settle on her thighs as he begins to ruck the fabric of her dress up to her hips so he can step between her legs. Arya lets out a soft moan when he grinds himself against her. Her head tips back against the mirror and Gendry’s lips leave hers to move down her exposed throat.

“Can’t… can’t leave any marks,” Arya gasps out when he nips softly at her neck.

Gendry growls slightly and his hands dip under her skirts to feather up the smooth skin of her thighs. He lifts his head slightly, making eye contact with her as his fingers catch the lace edge of her thong. With a frantic nod Arya lifts her hips enough for him to slide the scrap of fabric off, raising an eyebrow as he tucks it into his jacket pocket.

“You can’t keep that. I’m not walking out of here without my underwear, my entire family is out there.”

Gendry merely smirks before dropping to his knees in front of her. He kisses his way up her thighs before licking her wide open. Arya’s head thuds against the mirror again and she tucks a leg over his broad shoulder, still in his navy jacket. She can’t see what he’s doing with the fabric piled in her lap but Gendry makes short work of her, licking and sucking her clit until she’s gasping and muffling her noises with her hand. Her hand grips his hair as she comes, needing to ground herself. He rises from below her skirts with a satisfied smile on his face. Arya grabs his tie and yanks him down to her, desperately kissing him, tasting herself on his tongue. His hands return to her hips as they make out on the vanity, Arya’s hands now running over his chest and shoulders.

“Look at you,” she coos when they part for breath, “Still all done up and looking like a gentleman.”

A quick glance towards the mirror shows his hair is a disaster from her hands and his pupils are blown but his suit is hardly rumpled despite her wandering hands. At his momentary distraction one of Arya’s hands drops to palm his erection through his slacks and he tears his eyes from the mirror to see her wicked smirk.

“Oh? What do we have here? Maybe not such a gentleman after all. Have you been thinking naughty thoughts, Mr. Baratheon? How long have you been wanting to get under my skirts today?”

Gendry groans quietly, “Since you walked in my door smelling like heaven and looking like this. Gods, Arry. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Arya’s hand continues to squeeze him through his trousers. His cock is straining towards her, begging for more attention. She happily gives it, undoing his belt and pulling him free of his boxers. She gives him a few full strokes before reaching for her clutch he didn’t even realize she’d brought with her. With a grin she pulls out a condom, opens it, and rolls it on. Just as he’s about to thrust into her she stops him with a hand on his chest. Gendry freezes, looking up at her in askance. She moves him a step back and slides off the counter, skirts falling back to the floor as she stands. With a wink she turns to face the mirror and leans over, hauling her skirts back up and baring her pretty pale arse to him before bending over and grabbing the marble edge.

“Well? Come on then, I just wanted to watch.”

Death. Of. Him. Meeting her eyes in the mirror Gendry grabs her hips and slides into her with a smooth thrust. A few gentle rocks and he bottoms out. Arya gasps as he does, eyes glued to them both in the mirror. They’re both fully dressed, clothes pulled aside just enough for access and that makes the image even hotter. Gendry pulls back and thrusts again, Arya rocking on her toes with his motion, her grip tightening on the edge of the counter. They maintain eye contact as Gendry begins to thrust into her faster. He’s already close after getting under her skirts to eat her out and he’s not going to last long with the warm clutch of her around him. He takes one of his hands from her waist to find her clit. Brushing the swollen bud makes her cry out before she claps a hand over her mouth. He begins to circle it in time with his thrusts, driving her higher and higher until she tightens around him and shouts into her palm. The feel of her coming undone beneath him sends him over the edge and he drops his forehead to her bare shoulder as he tries to calm his breathing.

After a moment Arya begins to wriggle under him, “You’re squishing me you big bull. We need to get back out there before someone notices we’re gone and I have to answer awkward questions.”

Gendry smacks a kiss to her shoulder before standing to dispose of the condom. He tucks himself back into his pants and washes his hands as Arya straightens her dress and reapplies her lipstick in the mirror. When she holds her hand out to him he grabs it and begins to move towards the door.

Arya digs her heels in, “I need my underwear, Gendry. I’m not going out there bare-arsed.”

Gendry smirks and drops a kiss on her lips, “Your arse is plenty covered by that lovely dress of yours. These are mine for now.”

He unlocks the door and steps into the hall before she can respond and nearly runs smack dab into Sansa. He pulls the door shut behind him and leans on the frame. “Oh, hey Sansa,” he says, aiming for casual and praying Arya hears him and stays quiet for just a moment.

“Gendry!” Sansa grins at him and he can’t tell if she knows what he and her sister were just up to or she’s a little drunk and actually happy to see him, “have you seen Arya? I needed her help with something and I can’t find her anywhere!”

“Uh… Nope! Haven’t seen her for a minute. Stepped out to, uh, get some air and was about to head back to the ballroom…” he trails off, Sansa’s smile growing wider. “Well, when you see my sister, let her know I’m looking for her and in the meantime you might want to fix your hair before you return. You look like you got attacked by a… wolf,” with that Sansa turns and heads back the way she’d come.

Gendry sighs and steps out of the way as the lavatory door swings open. Arya looks like she was trying to hold in her laughter and was failing. “So Sansa knows,” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall.

“Yeah, I’ll say. Nice try though. That’s okay, I saw her and Theon necking behind the restaurant during the rehearsal dinner so she won’t say anything.”

He holds out his hand to her and Arya laces her fingers with his as they make their way back towards the ballroom. Gendry can’t refuse her when she pulls him onto the floor, spinning her around and swaying with her as the music changes. The lights are low and a slow song begins playing as they dance together, his arms wrapped around her waist as hers curled around his neck. His forehead rests against hers as they stare into each other's eyes other lost in their own world. Dorne, he thinks, I could do a beach in Dorne with her one day.

[schnoogles]

Curiouser and Curiouser written for the @jonsa-halloween event! Day 2: Drink Me/Colors Read on Ao3 

Theon began lining empty whisky tumblers, “how about everyone here try my newest concoction? I call it ‘The Kraken.’” He poured the brightest color of electric blue liquid in each glass and gestured for everyone to pick one up. Jon eyed it warily, “Where’d the name come from?” He lifted it to his mouth. Theon smiled as he watched everyone down it. “Eight legs, eight ingredients! Most of which are alcohol.” Robb immediately slapped Theon across the face after he drank his. Everyone else went into either a coughing fit or started gagging.

Theon had the best idea for a drink. Unfortunately, he wasn't anticipating Sansa being a lightweight.

“What up bitches! It’s time for SHOTS.” 

Everyone groaned. Arya was having way too much fun at this party.

“Gods, was I like this when I became legal drinking age?” Sansa looked at her little sister across the room, horrified at the bubbly young woman in a Cheshire cat costume. She’ll be first to admit though, Arya was absolutely adorable, even with what looked like a drink in each hand.

Jon snorted. “No, but you were like this when Robb took you to your first college party and Theon gave you an AMF.” 

“Not my finest hour.” Sansa grimaced at the memory. “On the plus side, that was my one and only time ever getting that wasted. Even now at legal drinking age I stay away from hard liquors. All thanks to Theon’s peer pressuring.”

“Hey!” Theon protested from behind the counter, “That drink gave you the fucking courage to kiss Jon! You should be thanking me!” Jon and Sansa shifted uncomfortably. Nearly four years later and still only one drunken kiss between them. Robb had seen what they were doing and put a stop to it. He didn’t care if they wanted to date but he didn’t want his best friend and little sister to do anything they’d regret. Unfortunately, they were both too embarrassed and didn’t bring it up the next day. Which led to both parties assuming the other did, in fact, regret it.

“How ‘bout we don’t humiliate Jon and Sansa tonight, Theon?” Robb walked up to the group, Arya in tow looking decidedly put out.

Theon laughed and pointed an empty shaker at her, “Why the pout, Cheshire?”

“Robb won’t let me have anymore shots.”

Everyone in the group snickered at her. Leave it to Responsible Robb to reign in his little sister. 

“Tell you what shorty,” Theon began lining empty whisky tumblers, “how about everyone here try my newest concoction? I call it ‘The Kraken.’” He poured the brightest color of electric blue liquid in each glass and gestured for everyone to pick one up.

Jon eyed it warily, “Where’d the name come from?” He lifted it to his mouth. 

Theon smiled as he watched everyone down it. “Eight legs, eight ingredients! Most of which are alcohol.” Robb immediately slapped Theon across the face after he drank his. Everyone else went into either a coughing fit or started gagging. 

“That,” he wagged a finger at Theon, “is absolutely disgusting.”

“Noted.” Theon shook his head, slightly disoriented from Robb’s slap.

Arya slammed her glass down in front of Theon. “Another!”

“No!” Everyone but Theon shouted. 

“Spoil sports, all of you.” Arya grumbled. 

The group of friends chatted some more, with Theon occasionally coming in and out of the conversation as he was making drinks for his guests. They were all having a good time. Talking, laughing, having some more drinks. No one thought they needed to stop until suddenly-

“Jesus Christ,” Sansa giggled, “Does everyone else see the pretty dancing colors?” Sansa looked around them in wonderment. She noticed a slight change in her vision earlier but thought she was imagining it. Now though, with another cocktail under her belt, she knew she definitely wasn’t imagining the pretty lights and bright swirling colors.

“Sansa?” Robb looked at his sister in disbelief. “Are you drunk already? Theon what the fuck was in that drink?”

Jon placed a steady hand on Sansa’s lower back. “Well, I think she had maybe one drink earlier, but I dunno what it was. Might not have been agreeable with Theon’s catastrophe-”

“It’s called Kraken, thank you very much.” He was affronted by Jon’s misnaming. “And how was I supposed to know that Queen of Hearts over here is a lightweight? She’s usually the DD!” He wasn’t wrong. Sansa always volunteered to stop drinking early at parties to make sure her older brother and his friends were safe. For good reason.

“First of all, Mad Hatter,” she scoffed at the name of Theon’s costume, “I’m the Red Queen! Pick up a book, learn the difference, get it right.” When drunk, apparently Sansa Stark became Sassy Snark. She hiccupped before gleefully announcing, “Second of all: I’m a one shot wonder babeyy!!” The boys tried to smother their laughter at the dancey redhead. Sansa wasn’t finished though. It was Theon’s idea to throw an Alice in Wonderland themed Halloween party so how dare he not know the different characters. During her long winded explanation of the various different queens in the story, Arya managed to sneak a drink from over the counter. She didn’t, however, manage to sneak it into her mouth.

“Freeze, Underfoot.” Robb gestured at the drink in her hand. “You’re cut off for the next hour. Pace yourself or you’ll end up like-” he stuck a thumb at Sansa, “-over there.” Arya looked over his shoulder and saw her older sister attempting to put braids in Jon’s curly hair. She snorted. “It’s water for you for the time being.” He went to grab two bottles from the fridge. One he gave Arya and the other he tossed to Jon. 

“Here we go Sansa,” Jon moved her hands off his hair and handed the water bottle to her, “I have some water for you.”

Sansa smacked his hand away. “The only thing you have is the audacity!”

Jon chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be! How dare you have such nice soft hair! It’s not fair! You don’t even do anything with it!” Sansa suddenly squealed with delight and reached behind Jon. “Thanks Theon!”

“Wh- Hey!” Theon stood flabbergasted as she swooped over and stole his drink from his hands.

“What?” she asked curiously, unaware that anything was wrong. Instead of waiting for a response, she took the shot.

Theon spluttered, “What do you mean ‘what?’ That wasn’t for you!”

Lies. Clearly the shot was meant for Sansa. “But it was practically begging for me to drink it!” 

That gave Jon an idea. He uncapped the bottle of water and lifted it in front of Sansa’s face. In an unnaturally high pitched voice, he said, “Drink me, Sansa, drink me!” while waving the water in front of her face. Perhaps he was a bit tipsy too.

“Oh! Well okay, sure!” Jon’s jaw dropped at how easily and happily she took the water and drank. He blinked several times before calling out to her brother. “Uh… Robb?”

“Sup?”

“We can’t leave Sansa alone all night.”

“Um, sure…? But why?”

“She is a far too agreeable drunk.” Jon replied, eyes still not off of the pretty lady in front of him who was dancing to the music, water still in hand.

Before Robb could open that can of worms, he saw in the corner of his eye his other little sister running off with what looked suspiciously like a bottle in her arms. “HEY! ARYA COME BACK HERE!”

At the sound of her brother screaming, Sansa looked over, then enthusiastically started waving at the back of her sister’s head. “Bye Arya! See you later!”

Robb groaned and started banging his head on the counter. Sansa looked at her brother with the utmost concern. That surely must hurt him! 

“Don’t worry man, she’s fine,” Theon chuckled. When Robb glared at him, he explained. “She’s newly 21, remember?”

“Yeah, and?”

“And she just ran off with a bottle of grenadine,” Theon snorted, “Something tells me the only thing she'll get is a sugar crash.”

Robb sagged his shoulders in relief. He really didn’t want to deal with another drunk little sister. Those two are going to be the death of him. At least he only has to worry about a sugar crash tonight coming from Arya tonight.

Suddenly though, it was like Sansa sobered up out of nowhere. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“What’s wrong San?” 

She pointed at something passed her brother. When the boys all turned, they immediately frowned. A pompous ass, thy name is Joffrey. Robb swore. This is what he gets for letting Theon be in charge of everything, including the guest list.

Jon turned to Theon. “Bro.”

Theon scratched his head. “Look I didn’t invite him. I’m guessing Renly did? He’s usually forced to take his nephew to outings.”

Robb scrunched his face. “And since when were you friends with Renly Baratheon?”

Sansa, still not taking her eyes off the blonde asshole, answered, “Since the only way Margaery Tyrell would accept Theon’s invitation was if she was allowed to bring her brother Loras. And where Loras goes, so does Renly.” Sansa looked away from her source of disdain and lifted a brow at a very sheepish looking Theon. “Girls talk.”

“Of fucking course this is about a girl.” Robb sighed and looked to Jon. “I’m gonna handle this. Do you mind?” He jerked his head at Sansa and Jon understood the underlying request. Take my sister away from here while I kick out her ex, who would most definitely make a scene. 

“Hey, Red Queen?” Jon grabbed her hands and started backing up, pulling her along.

Sansa perked up. “Yes Jon?” She let him guide her, Joffrey already forgotten. Jon stumbled just a bit. Something about that Yes Jon that excited him.

“Remember how you were curious about where Ghost is during the party?”

Sansa instantly smiled brightly. She loved Jon’s dog. “Yeah?”

And her smile must be contagious because Jon returned it tenfold. “You wanna go see him?”

Sansa gasped enthusiastically, “Oh my gods! Yes pleeeeease!” 

Jon coughed. Something in his chest grumbled approvingly at her words. “Perfect,” his voice came out a little rougher than he intended. “He’s upstairs in my room.” And suddenly he was no longer leading Sansa, she was leading him. Tugging Jon along, she ran through the crowd of partiers to make her way towards the stairs when suddenly she stopped. Jon, not expecting the abrupt interruption in their journey, collided into her.

“Oooof! Sorry, Sansa, you okay?” 

She didn’t even notice, too busy looking around the room. “Isn’t it so pretty?” 

Jon laughed quietly at how she was admiring some fancy color-changing LED lights and, in his opinion, a rather tacky disco ball. Sure, the luminescence of the atmosphere was pretty cool, but it didn’t compare to one admiring it. What was in that drink Theon? “It’s gorgeous. Come on pretty girl, Ghost is waiting.” At the mention of the dog, Sansa squealed and grabbed Jon again, dragging him along.

When they opened the door to his room, she rushed over and started giving Ghost all the love. He was the best boy that ever was and deserved so many pets.

Jon closed the door and with the loud music now a muffled noise, he could properly appreciate her company. And he couldn’t help but admire her affections for his dog. When he sat on the edge of his bed, she looked up at him. 

“Jon, are you uncomfortable when I’m around?” That caught him off guard.

“What? No, not at all. Where is this coming from?”

Sansa bit her lip. “Well, I can’t help but remember the last time Theon plied me with alcohol.”

Jon turned his attention to Ghost instead and swallowed. “And?”

“And you sort of ignored me for a week. Sometimes I think we’re okay, but then you pull back again. And I’m not stupid. It always happens when I try flirting with you.”

Jon did a double take. “I’m sorry, you flirt with me?”

Sansa grimaced. “Oh god, was I not? Dammit Arya was right.” She started mumbling to herself as Jon watched, shocked at this new information. “Am I really just too nice to everyone? Is that why my flirting game is so off? My god is that why Arya thought I was flirting with the mailman when I told him it was so good to see him? Fucking hell.”

At the mention of Sansa flirting with someone who was not him, he snapped back to attention. “Wait wait wait. Sansa, you like me? Like… like me, like me?” Jon, channeling his inner Cheshire, slowly began to grin very, very widely.

“Aw you’re making fun, I don’t want to look at you anymore.” She turned her back to him, sticking her face in Ghost’s soft fur. Jon laughed at the woman with her face buried in his dog’s fur. But oh no, Jon couldn’t let that happen, no sir. He slid off the bed and joined her on the floor with Ghost. Gently pulling her and making her face him, Jon stared into those vibrant blue eyes of hers. They were as blue as Theon’s drink. At the memory of Theon’s drink, which had delightfully led to this conversation, Jon chuckled.

“Sansa, I’m going to need you to remember this conversation tomorrow morning, alright?”

“Of course I’ll remember!” She squinted her eyes at Jon. “Why do I need to remember?”

“Because I like you too and you’re drunk.” 

“Oh!” Sansa nodded. Jon made perfect sense. She is drunk and he does like her. With that confirmation, she went back to petting Ghost. And Jon went back to watching her fondly. 

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep, trapping Ghost in her arms. Jon’s eyes darted back and forth from her to his bed, debating. Nope, Jon had some decency left in him. He lifted her up and took her to Robb’s room. His friend can sleep on the couch for a night.

As he was tucking her in, Sansa grabbed at his arms. “Hey Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you? When I was dating Joffrey back in high school, it always felt like the light was drained out of me. It was kinda awful.” Jon furrowed his brows. He knew Joffrey Baratheon was an ass, but never knew to what extent. Before he could say anything though, Sansa continued. “But when I got to really know you and when we kissed a few years ago, it was like everything got inexplicably brighter. My life suddenly went from black and white to technicolor and I've never wanted to look back.”

Jon couldn’t stop smiling. “Alright pretty girl, it’s time for bed.”

She smiled mischievously at him. “You could always join me.”

Suddenly they heard a gagging noise coming from the inside room with them. Arya popped up from the floor on the other side of the bed. She pointed a bottle at them and glared. “I swear to all that is holy and good, if you join her Jon, I will vomit. And I’m not even drunk!”

Jon laughed as he backed up towards the door. “No worries, Underfoot, I’m going.” With one final wave at a giggling Sansa, he went out and closed the door behind him. Jon prayed to the gods that Sansa would remember tomorrow morning. 

Tomorrow Morning

Sansa opened the door and peeked through to see a snoring Jon. She went in and shut the door behind her. After some light contemplation, she thought ah fuck it and launched herself on his unsuspecting body. 

“Oh my god!”

“Good morning Jon!” she said sweetly to him. 

“Hi?” Bleary eyed Jon was not a morning person.

“Hey Jon. I remember.” 

His eyes snapped open. Suddenly Jon, and all parts of Jon really, became a morning person. 

Arya heard giggling come from Jon’s room while coming back from the bathroom and scoffed. “Filthy animals.”

[the-scooby-gang]

Changing the game Chapter 1

The crossover that came to me at 5 in the morning.

Leave a comment. Tell me what you guys think of this plot bunny.

Summary: Petyr Baelish is dead i killed him and now Shaggy Rogers inhabites his body.

Word count: 3015

Catelyn I

The Royal entourage made its way across the gates of the castle like a river of gold and silver and polished steel. Above their heads, standards of gold and crimson of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister flew high above the columns of anointed knights. Wandering knights, sworn soldiers, and vassals followed not too far behind.

Catelyn recognized many faces. Sandor Clegane, by far one of the  tallest men in attendance, was the first to capture her eyes thanks to the ruin that was the right side of his face. The tall golden boy by his side must have to be the Crown Prince, following the giant that was his father, the King Robert Baratheon, that was right in the front of the columns flanked by two white knights. An equally tall and golden man, adorned in golden armor with the helm in the form of a roaring lion followed close by, the white cloak of the King’s Guard bellowing against the cold wind.

The Kingslayer, thought Cat, giving a more thoughtful look to the twin of Her Majesty. Giving a side glance towards her Lord husband, Cat sent a silent prayer to the seven gods, asking that Ned’s dislike of the queen’s family would not bring any animosity while the royal family was under her roof.

Turning her eyes once again towards the gates, Cat could not contain the happy smile that came to her lips. Petyr Baelish, her brother in all but blood, was entering the gates just behind Ser Jaime, a polite smile in his face. He had changed little; his hair was grayer in the temples them when she last saw him, an earring made of gold with a teardrop-shaped emerald lay dangling from his left ear, but besides that, his frame was still small and lanky, with his observing green-grey eyes and his always easy smile.

When his eyes found hers, his already polite smile turned into something more genuine. He dismounted his stead, just as the king was doing the same and followed on the large shadow of Robert Baratheon, to await his time to greet the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

On his right, the dog Scoobert Doo stayed loyal and vigilant over his master, like he had done as he was riding through the gates, and just like in the day Petyr found him in the forest near Riverrun and claimed the dog as his own. Cat never saw a dog as big as Doo and believed she never would. Petyr called him “A Great Dane” and said that he would probably grow to surpass even Uncle Brynden in high if he stood in his hind legs. When Edmure, not more them a babe at the time, asked how could he possibly know that, a smile that Catelyn would come to know well graced Petyr’s face.

“I saw it in a dream, Eddy,” he said with far more wisdom in his voice than any boy of ten had any right to have. Then, he messed her brother’s red hair with his free hand while the other held the puppy with the care one would expect someone to cradle a newborn baby.

That would be the answer to many of the things that he just seemed to know. Petyr and his dreams were one of the greatest talks of the realm sometimes. The Master of Coin was known to go to sleep when faced with a particularly difficult conundrum and come back to the land of the awaken with a solution on the tip of his fingers. Sometimes, if the ambient was calm enough, he just needed to close his eyes to be momentarily taken to whatever plane of reality his answers lied.

She remembers asking him once what exactly he saw when in one of his trances.

“It depends on what I have to ask,” he said with the utmost sincerity. Sometimes Cat asked herself if he was capable of lying “If I need some deep knowledge about how something works I may ask The Wise Lady, with her kind eyes, dressed in reds and oranges like the morning sun. If I need to think strategically, in combat or in holding court, The Lovely Warrior will have a ready answer…”

In here he made a pause as his face had assumed a look of longing, of warning. He looked at his feet and Catelyn could swear that his face was as bright and red as the sunsets that she and her sister saw atop the towers of Riverrun “if my need is to create, be it a stronghold, a weapon, a speech or, be made of rope or words, a trap, The Blue-eyed Lord is the one I seek.”

After a small pause, Petyr smiled, looked at the sky, and said with a soft voice, as if he was remembering something long gone. Happy memories of a life already liven “But they don’t have fixed roles most of the time. Both the Warrior and the Lord can be just as wise as the Lady, as can the Lady and the Lord be as cunning and resourceful as the Warrior, and the Warrior and the Lady can just as easily create wonders as the Lord can.”

That was the answer he always gave when asked. Cat and half of her household believed that Petyr was being blessed by the gods. The Wise Lady was clearly the Crone, giving him advice. The Warrior was in the name, giving him strength.

The only one no one was quite sure of was The Blue-eyed Lord.

Some said it was The Father, giving him the means to work his justice. Some supposed that The Smith was the most likely since the weapons and plans that came to Petyr in the dead of the night were above anything anyone was ever seen. A small group thought it was The Maiden in disguise, solemnly because Petyr was the most flustered when speaking of them.

Cat would laugh every time that particular hypothesis was broth up. She knew Petyr better them she knew herself, and she was not blind to his long glances to any blond knight that trained at the yard every morning when they were growing up. It was always blond men. These were the favored ones in her brother’s eyes: Blond, blue eyed, with deep knowledge about one expecific thing and, as Petyr once told her one summer night, “Good of heart, dumb of ass”.

She never laught so loudly as she did that night. 

“Your Grace. Winterfell is yours” she heard her husband say, lying on his knees like the rest of her household.

“You grow fat.” Said a bumming voice.

The sound of the King’s remark of her husband’s weight pulled her right back into the present. She turned her head just in time to see Ned go back on his feet, look with disbelief to Robert’s own protuberant belly them back at him with a clearly “And you are one to talk?” look.

The king burst out laughing. Clapping him in his shoulders, Robert turned to her next. Everyone had followed in Ned’s steps and rising to their feet.

“Cat!” roared the Baratheon.

Robert enveloped her in his arms as if she was a long-lost sister and kissed both her cheeks, making her once again lose her brother from sight.

By that time, the others were dismounting, and stable boys ran to collect their horses. The Queen, Cersei Lannister, walked in with her youngest children. The caravan in which they had traveled, a huge two-story carriage made of greased oak and gilded metal, pulled by forty horses with heavy traction, was too wide to pass through the castle gate. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, while Robert hugged her.

Many stable boys, knights, and servents that have come with the entourage stayed a wide berth away from Scoobert, the sheer size of the dog enough to scare any men. Catelyn wanted to laugh and she could see by Petyr’s face, so did he. Unless you tried to stab Petyr or her or any of their family, Scooby was as threatening as a pillow and just as cuddly.

The servants of Winterfell were already used to the Great Dane from the many visits that Petyr made over the years, the dog aways by his side. She could already see both Bran and Arya dreaming of mounting the dog as if he was a steed, and she had no doubt that Rickon would be introduced to the unofficial tradition.

She remembers when this rite of passage was born, many years ago, when Robb was newly born and the rebellion was coming to an end. Petyr was as always with Scoob by his side, like the gods intended.

When Ned was explaining that the boy that he was bringing with him, a babe that he had named Jon, one of Brandon’s bastards, was going to be living with them, Petyr and the baby Robb were playing with Scoob. The babe was carefully laid over the back of the dog, green-gray eyes focused like an eagle on the redhead of his nephew with ready hands for the chance that they had to move quickly to grab a falling babe.

Robb giggled happily, without a single care in the world. Jon soon followed him on his furry mount. That afternoon was full of the giggles of babes and the soft trot of Scooby paws against pillows.

Ever since then, all the Stark children would have their first ride, not in a pony as it was common, but on the might back of Scoobert Doo.

 Petyr and Ned had just come back from the war, Petyr under Lord Arryn banner and Ned as the new Lord of Winterfell. Petyr may not have the body expected of a knight, but what he didn’t have in muscle he compensated with speed. Ned would tell her how Petyr was in the field,  looking  like he was dancing in mid his enemies, with the sword that he long ago had made per his instructions cutting through armor and flesh like it was cutting the air while Scoobert shredded the arms of anyone that got to close off his master.

She told her husband the story of that blade. The blacksmith of Riverrun recognized the design as one of the blades of Yi-Ti and Ser Desmond Grell, the master-at-arms asked the then boy of eight were he found such a thing.

“I saw it in a dream, Ser Desmond” answered Petyr “An old warrior was training me. He told me to climb the earth, walk on air, pass through the fire, and brave my way through the water. When I did it,  a Green Dragon gave me a sword just like this one” them he pointed to the newly made blade, one he called katana and later on would name Loyalty. “The Dragon told me that I would never fight like a knight. I will always be too small and light for that. He told me ‘Fight like the wind, like the flowing waters of the rivers. Fight like a samurai”

Ser Desmond had no idea what a Samurai was, but he would find out that to know was not necessary. The boy, like almost anything in his life apparently, was learning his routines in dreams. He was only necessary to fix his stances, give him targets, and look after him and anyone that was going to be his opponent for the day.

Cat shook herself out of her memories. This was not the place or time for her attention to be so dispersed. With a small sigh of relief, she noticed that the king was still going down the line of her children. At the moment he was complimenting Bran’s muscles, telling him that he would make a fine knight.

When the king finished with his inspection and spirited her husband away to the crypts to the Queen’s displeasure, Petyr finally approached her and her children.

“Uncle Shaggy!” screamed Arya, throwing herself in his open arms.

The nickname was born years ago when Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure, and Petyr went riding by the river, looking for a perfect place for an afternoon picnic. Petyr rode like he was born to do so and his hair by the end of the day was so messy that Edmure started calling him “Shaggy Hair” and later on only “Shaggy”. Petyr seemed to love it and it had indeed fitted him like a second skin.

Somehow that particular nickname seemed more personal them any nickname that Edmure had ever given him. In public, Eddy called him “Littlefinger”, since it was the first name he had ever given him and so was the one everyone knew. But when it was just them, between close doors and the seclusion of the sacred forest, the name “Shaggy” was the one to fall from his lips.

Robb had been the first one to call him that. Followed by Jon, Arya, Bran, even Ned could be caught from time to time calling him by the name. Sansa, on the other hand, rarely called him anything that was not “Uncle Petyr”, “Uncle” and “Lord Baelish”. Petyr used to bribe Sansa with lemon cakes when she was younger to call him by his family nickname, but now at thirteen the bribes rarely work like they used to. Sansa was worried about what would be proper to call a member of the Small Council and found it  demeaning for a man in such a position.

She remembers the look Shaggy gave her after Sansa told him this, the day he had come to Winterfell to celebrate her oldest daughter name day. She also remembers how she lost her composure and snorted like a fool when she saw the incredulous expression in his face.

“But look at that! The Hurricane of Winterfell has grown once more” He held Arya as if she weighed nothing. The years of running around carrying a hundred and seventy-five pounds of dog in his arms as if it was a babe had given him great strength. “ At this rate, you will be taller than me in no time”

Arya blushed. Shaggy was by far her favorite uncle and she always shined under his compliments.

Scooby was already licking Bran’s face, not after having sent the boy straight up to the ground. Bran laughed happily and without care. Rickon was looking at the dog in awe and Jon, Robb, and Theon Greyjoy, the protege of Winterfell, burst with laughter.

“Scooby, stop it. He’s going to get all dirty” said Catelyn, but she could not take the small smile of her face.

Scoob followed her orders. Robb helped Bran to get up and cleaned the dirt that covered his back. Shaggy put Arya back on the ground, kissed Sansa’s hand with a small bow with the proper “My Lady” and then turned to Cat, a mischievous smile on his face.

Without warning, Shaggy hugged her, held her out of the ground, and spun her around laughing like a mad man. His laughter as always was infectious and, caring little for the onlookers (something she would severely chastise herself and Shaggy later when she had recovered her wits) she laughed with him.

He put her back on the ground and kissed both her cheeks.

“Big sister, you’re  as radiant as ever,” he said looking her over “I hope that Lord Eddard remains treating you well?” his voice jested, but she saw that his eyes were deadly serious.

Shaggy was loyal to a fault, and since the day he came to live with her family he internalized her house words as if they were his own, just like they had come to see him as one of their own. Family, Duty, Honor. The family was above all else in his eyes, be it blood or chosen family. If her answer had been anything but positive, she knew that Ned would find himself with the angry entity that was Shaggy in a protective fury.

“My Lord husband remains the best thing that the gods could have blessed me,” said Cat with sincerity.

Shaggy smiled and took her by the arm and together they started to walk towards the great hall, her children not too far behind petting Scooby-Doo with love and little Rickon perched on his back.

“If you say so, my lady. But always remember, if you need me in any shape or form I’m just one raven away.” here his voice turned into a whisper “Gods know I would take any excuse to leave that nest of vipers”

They both giggle like they were children again and walked through the immense doors of the keep.

Petyr’s father, before he died, said once that in the way to Riverrun Petyr had fallen asleep one  night and awaked the next morning completely different. He said he was sweeter, more gentle, and caring. He believed that his son’s dreams started that night and that it has changed him.

If that was so, Catelyn sang many  blessings to that day. She would never know how their life would have gone had Shaggy never started dreaming, but she knew what this life had given her.

It has given her a brother.  An eccentric and beloved brother.

“Come along, my dear. We have many things to discuss” he said still in whispers “About propositions that are going to be made and marrieges that, if we play our cards right, will never come to be.”

Her smile soured. She knew what proposition he was talking about. Since the death of Jon Arryn and the letter from Lysa, she had been on edge with the uncoming visity from the king,  bringing the Lannisters to her home. Regarding marriege, she had know about the possibility of Robert wanting to join their houses, but the look on Shaggy’s face told her a deeper rabbit hole that she was not seeing.

Giving him a calculated smile that was easily reciprocated, arm in arm, they entered the hall. 

[magicalwardrobe-mw]

The kids are alright

I can update my WIPs like a normal person or start a new time traveling GOT fic. Mmmmm... which one will it be? Okay you got me.

Summary: Lyanna Baratheon hadn't expected to be sent back in time with her siblings and cousins to when her uncles and grandparents were still alive but there they were. Just the most normal turn of events, really.Oh, she was gonna strangle her sister one of those days.

Also on AO3.

1. Winterfell.

Lyanna was thankful to finally see Winterfell looming ahead. She loved her siblings to death, but after spending thirteen days copped up in a ship with them and then ten more of riding she didn’t want to see them again for a while.

Robb spurred his horse to ride next to hers. He had a huge, excited grin on his face. But Robb always had a big smile on his face so there was nothing off with the picture.

“’ts been ages since we’ve seen them,” he said. Robb had the habit of starting conversations in the middle, as if they had just been talking for a while. Most days Lyanna found it cute.

“I can’t believe it’s been over a year since we’ve been here,” Dawn quickly joined the conversation. Dawn was always up for talking. “That doesn’t mean I’m not glad wheneverAunt Sansa and the rest come to Storms End as they did those months ago. Most times it’s nicer to play host than it is to play guest. But it’s always great to see Winterfell again. It’s such a lovely place, don’t you think? And it’s full of so many interesting stories! Nothing boring ever happened at Winterfell.”

Lyanna grimaced. Her sister had heard too many songs about The Battle of Winterfell. Even though their mother had strictly forbidden those kinds of songs to be played in Storms End. As if that could stop the bards from playing it or Lyanna and her sibling from hearing it.

Her mother didn’t like to talk about it. The Battle of Winterfell was a bloody affair and thousands of people died that night. People she should have known, but she didn’t. Like Theon Greyjoy, who should have been like another uncle to her but wasn’t.

Her life was full of ghosts she never met but haunted her all the same.

Her mother didn’t talk about the Battle of Winterfell but Lyanna knew of it anyway. The maids talked as did the soldiers and the guards and the smiths and cooks and carpenters and farmers.

“It is known,” as the Dothraki would say.

The bards played their songs and the jesters and minstrels told their tales. And in all of them her family made an appearance.

It wasn’t easy sometimes. Being the daughter of Princess Arya Baratheon-Stark. More known as Arya Stark. The Arya Stark. The Bringer of Dawn.

The one who killed the Night King and eradicated all of his army when she was still almost a child. The one who put an end to the War for the Dawn and the Long Night and single-handedly defeated a creature worse than any nightmares.

The one who saved the whole of humanity.

Nothing to live up to, then, just preventing the utter destruction of the human race.

Her father loved to tell her that Lyanna had just been starting to form in her mother’s womb when she had killed the Night King.

“So you could say you defeated him, too,” he would tell her.

Some would find it poetic, the fact that Arya Stark had defeated death while carrying new life inside. Lyanna just found it gross because she didn’t want to think of her parents having pre-battle sex.

Or sex of any kind, to be honest, but that was quite difficult to manage when one’s parents were Arya and Gendry Baratheon.

They had made a bet at some point in their lives to see if they could traumatize all of their kids.

They had managed four out of seven at the moment.

“Look, Lya, look!”

The sound of her nickname broke her out of her thoughts. Neddy was on her right while Robb, who had been the one to call her, kept riding on her left. Neddy hadn’t been the only brother to join her, for Davey rode with Dawn and the both of them were talking a mile a minute.

The only one who could match Dawn’s chattering was Davey.

“I wasn’t listening to them either,” Neddy told her with a smile.

Neddy was twelve, the closest in age to her, just turned five and ten. They had a special understanding, a bond, she didn’t have with the rest of her siblings.

“Look, look!” Robb tugged at her sleeve. He was pointing at the Keep, where a head of red hair peeked from the ramparts. “It’s Cathy!”

Cathy Stark’s head disappeared just as the horn sounded. Lyanna knew her little cousin had gone running to stand by the doors and be there when they opened.

At least until her mother grabbed a hold of her and put her back in the greeting formation that was surely forming in the courtyard.

“I think they’ve spotted us,” Arya Baratheon-Stark said dryly.

Lyanna turned around to grin at her mother. She was riding with Alesander, the youngest of her siblings and only three years old, and Lyanna knew she was taking advantage to cuddle with him as much as she could.

“Were they supposed to be surprised?”

“They could act like it,” her mother said with false grumpiness. “I didn’t warn them this time.”

“Uncle Bran always tells them,” Lyanna told her. “He always knows everything.”

Something dark passed over her mother’s face and Lyanna saw her glance at Dawn for a second. Her expression turned blank, something Lyanna had seen her do in very few occasions and always scared the hell out of her.

Lyanna’s father came from the rear as if his wife had mentally called him. Five-year-old Alyssa rode quite happily on the horse with him. He quickly took notice of the situation and he and Arya had one of those silent conversations they were so fond of.

“Lya,” said Gendry in the end. “Why don’t you take Aly and get your siblings to Winterfell?”

Lyanna knew better than to demand answers. It never worked. That still didn’t stop her from trying from time to time.

“Come on, Aly,” she helped her father put her little sister in front of her. “Let’s see if we can get Dawn and Davey to stop talking long enough to get through the doors.”

Alyssa giggled. “Not possible,” she said.

Lyanna laughed and rushed to meet the rest of her siblings. She knew her parents would figure out whatever it was troubling them together.

They always did.

 There was a small welcoming party waiting for them in the courtyard as Lyanna had expected. Her aunt, Sansa Stark, stood regally in the middle with her husband and her children at her sides.

Lyanna’s mother got off the horse and walked gracefully to stand in front of the Queen in the North.

“Your Grace,” Arya bowed respectfully. They were the image of propriety and perfection. Both of them solemn as the situation required.

“Princess Arya,” Queen Sansa nodded in respect.

Lyanna saw her mother pressing her lips very tight together but that didn’t stop them from trembling. Queen Sansa’s cheek twitched.

“I hope,” the Queen had to clear her throat because her voice had come out somewhat strangled and high-pitched. “I hope you had a pleasant journey here.”

“The sea was a bit,” her voice shook. “It was a bit rough.”

“Oh,” Queen Sansa put on a carefully studied expression of mild concern. “I hope it didn’t inconvenience you much.”

That was too much for Arya, who burst out laughing and it set Sansa off too. They hugged tightly and everybody in the courtyard smiled at the scene.

“I’ve missed you,” said Sansa.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Arya stepped away from the embrace, smiling. “How did you know we were coming?”

Sansa Stark rolled her eyes. “Bran sent a raven,” she said and then a puzzled look took over her face. “He also said he was coming, too.”

“But Bran hasn’t left the capital since he was crowned.” Arya furrowed her brows.

“I know, but he’s determined. He should be getting here in a fortnight.”

Arya frowned and Lyanna did so, too. If she’d heard she would be seeing her brother shortly, one she hadn’t seen in more than two years, she would have been happier. She couldn’t even imagine going more than ten days without seeing her siblings.

The last time Lyanna had seen King Bran the Broken she hadn’t been yet three and ten. Her mother had taken Lyanna, Neddy, Dawn and Davey to the capital while her father looked after Storm’s End and the rest of her siblings. They were supposed to spend a month in the capital but left in a hurry after three weeks.

Her mother didn’t talk about it no matter how much Lyanna asked her.

“Aunt Arya, look! Another one fell out!” Cathy bared her teeth, a couple of them missing.

Arya laughed. “Uh, let me see.” Arya crouched so close to her niece their noses were almost touching. Cathy giggled and Arya trapped her in a hug, tickling her at the same time.

“Mother, help me!” Cathy squealed.

“Your mother can’t help you, my toothless niece. You’re mine now. Are you sure they are going to grow back?”

“Motheeer!”

Lyanna felt a hand tugging on her breeches. Little Theon Stark was beaming up at her and she melted at the sight of his dimples.

“Well, hello there,” she scooped him up.

“Lya, Lya, I’m four now,” Theon told her seriously, showing her his hand with four fingers up.

“Oh, you’re very big now, aren’t you?”

“I’m a big, big boy.” Theon nodded. “Where’s Sandy?”

Sandy, more formally known as Alesander, was busy at the moment talking with Davey and Theon’s father. Well, actually Davey was talking and the other two were listening.

“Stop boring Uncle Pod with your ship talk, Dave,” she told her brother.

Davey scowled. “He asked me!”

“And I bet he’s regretting it now,” she said.

“Oh, no,” Podrick Stark was quick to jump in. “It’s actually very interesting.”

Davey glared at his sister. “See?”

Theon squirmed in Lyanna’s arms and she let him down. With a squeal Theon and Alesander disappeared running into the keep.

“The new forge wasn’t done when you were last here, was it?” Podrick asked them, changing the subject in an effort to maintain the peace. “Why don’t you go get your father and I’ll show you.”

Lyanna laughed. “You know if you show him he won’t leave that place during our entire visit.”

Podrick smiled. “I’ll get him out,” he assured. “Besides, he still owes me a couple games of dice,” he said.

“My father is awful at dice,” Lyanna wrinkled her nose.

Her uncle beamed. “I know.”

 In Winterfell Lyanna had a room all to herself. Being the oldest of her siblings and cousins, her Aunt Sansa had deemed it necessary.

“You’re almost a woman,” she had said. “You should have your own room here.”

So she slept in what had once been her Uncle Jon’s room. It was small and a bit separated from the rest of her family, but that only made it better. It had a big window and on the bed frame were scrawled the initials J.S.

Jon Snow. Or maybe Jon Stark in a desire to belong.

Neither of those were the true initials of her Uncle but it brought her closer to the man she had never met.

Her Uncle Jon had gone live North of the Wall after the Massacre of King’s Landing. Nobody had ever seen him again, after all he had been banished from Westeros, but he sent her mother a raven from time to time.

Arya always told Lyanna he was happier North of the Wall than he would have ever been South of it. But she always looked so, so sad when she spoke of her half-brother that it broke Lyanna’s heart.

Even if talking about Jon made Arya sad it still made her feel closer to him so she shared all the stories she could with her children. They should know about their Uncle, was what she said.

Lyanna owed her name in part to Jon. Lyanna Stark had been Jon’s mother and Eddard Stark’s sister. He’d kept the secret during all his life. So when Lyanna was born her mother had decided that with that name she could honor her father, her brother and Lyanna Giantslayer Mormont and even Lyanna Stark herself in one stroke.

Arya’s Stark’s life was still full of ghosts many years later.

“Lyyyyaaaaaa!” that whining voice could only belong to Robb. “Are you coming to break your fast?”

Lyanna held back a sigh. “I’m coming!” she called as she finished tying up her bootlaces.

“Hurry uuuup!”

When she slammed the door open she saw his pout. He was far too cute for his own good.

“You could have gone on your own, you know? Or with Neddy and Davey.”

Robb grabbed her hand. “That’s not fun,” he stated. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

They weren’t late but they certainly weren’t the first ones there. Alyssa, Alessander and Theon were missing, probably still in bed, as were their fathers. Lyanna would bet their absence was caused by a session of heavy drinking and exaltation of friendship the night before. Her father had probably lost a lot of games of dice.

If Queen Sansa and Lyanna’s mother had also partaken in their own private celebrations they hid it better. Maybe they didn’t look as fresh as they should but Lyanna had learnt early enough that her mother’s best moments would never be in the morning.

Davey handed her a plate with some eggs and Dawn gave her a bowl of porridge. She thanked them with a smile.

“What are your plans for today?” her aunt asked her.

Lyanna hadn’t been awake long enough to ready herself for such a question. “I don’t know,” she said politely. “Maybe I’ll spar for a bit. The gods know Neddy certainly needs it,” she gave her brother a teasing look.

“Hey!” he waved a spoonful of porridge at her.

“Can we go to the Godswood?” Cathy’s eyes lit up. “You have to see it. Mother has let me help tend it and you have to see it.”

It sounded interesting enough. “Sure,” Lyanna said. “We can go after we’re done.”

 The Godswood had suffered so many losses during the many sackings and battles in Winterfell that, years later, Queen Sansa was still trying to fix. The Keep had been almost completely fixed in those past few years, but a forest takes longer to heal and longer to grow.

There were young saplings growing mostly on the outskirts and some more on the rest of the woods. The canopy of their branches made a ceiling and it was like stepping into another realm. The Godswood her mother had been bringing to life in Storms End would never be able to compare.

Every time she stepped into Winterfell’s Godswood Lyanna always found it a little bit easier to believe that the Old Gods were real.

The Heart Tree was as unsettling as it had always been, with the face carved out and tears of sap running down its bark.

Robb gave a gleeful joy and jumped into the pool in front of the tree. Clothes and all.

Davey, of course, followed. Lyanna only sighed.

“Don’t worry, Lya,” Cathy told her. “The water is warm and the pool is not too deep.” She toed off her boots and sat on a wide, flat stone at the edge of the pool. It was low enough that it let her dip her toes in the water.

“They know how to swim,” Neddy assured his cousin. “In Storm’s End we go swimming in the sea all the time and the waters are far rougher there.”

He had been copying his cousin’s early actions while he spoke and he sat down at her side as he ended. He splashed some water to his brothers with his feet and grinned at Lyanna.

“I seem to be overruled.”

“Come join us.”

If you can’t beat them... She sat with them on the stone, the water lapping at her calves. It was warm but that wasn’t a surprise. She’d bathed in the Winterfell pools before.

“If you two drown Mother will kill me,” she told her younger brothers. “So don’t drown.”

Robb padded towards her. “We won’t!”

“Dawn!” Davey called. “What are you doing there? Come on, jump!”

Lyanna searched for her sister. The girl stood in front of the Heart Tree, glancing at its eyes with a strange expression. She seemed to be far away, as if she wasn’t really conscious in that moment.

Lyanna felt a shiver of worry coursing through her spine.

“Dawn.” Her sister didn’t turn. “Dawn, come here.”

Dawn didn’t listen. There was something in her expression that led Lyanna to believe she couldn’t hear her. Cold fear settled on her chest.

“Dawn,” she tried to keep her voice even. “Get away from there.”

Dawn raised her hand, palm towards the tree. Her eyes glistened and two fat tears ran through her cheeks.

Lyanna jumped to her feet.

Dawn’s hand hovered over the bark of the tree, right under the face.

Lyanna outreached her arm as she ran.

Dawn’s palm made contact with the tree.

The wave crashed against all of them. It threw Lyanna to the ground and sent Neddy and Cathy to the water. It wasn’t a wave of anything she could see but she felt it all the same against her body. Powerful, ancient, unspeakable.

Dawn remained standing, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her arm fell, hand leaving the tree, and she collapsed.

She gathered her sister in her arms. Dawn was shaking as if the aftermath of the wave still ran through her veins. Lyanna brushed her hair away from her face. The shaking faded.

“Dawn?” Lyanna wasn’t proud of how much her voice shook.

Dawn’s blue eyes opened slowly. If Lyanna had been standing she would have fallen down again from the pure relief that hit her.

“Lya?” Dawn’s voice was tiny.

“Are you alright?”

Dawn blinked. “What happened?”

That was what Lyanna herself would like to know. “You fainted,” she said simply.

“Oh,” said Dawn. “You’re bleeding.”

Lyanna brought a hand to her head. She hadn’t even felt it hurting until Dawn mentioned it. Her fingers came back stained with red and she grimaced. She must have hit her head with something when the wave threw her to the ground.

“I fell.” It wasn’t really a lie.

Dawn let out a giggle. “You’re so clumsy,” she announced as she rolled her eyes.

Lyanna could have smacked her.

This started a bit from a fic I wrote years ago (before Season 8) called Everything will be alright. But I wanted all of the Starks to see how they fared instead of just Ned so this little baby was born.

Arya never got on a boat to find what's West of Westeros because COME ON! and instead had a shitload of kids with Gendry (because if you mix Baratheon and Stark/Tully fertilities you know there's gonna be a lot of kids) and bossed around all the lords of the Stormlands and traumatized her kids. And Sansa married Pod years down the line because I wanted her to have at least one happy relationship with a man and the marriage and kids she's always dreamed of (I considered letting her be happy with being Queen but she was very lonely and I felt bad). And it's with Pod because he's nice and harmless and everybody else is dead.

A quick guide to the kids: STARK: - Cathy Stark: 8 years old. - Theon Stark: 4 years old. BARATHEON-STARK: - Lyanna Baratheon: 15 years old. - Eddard Baratheon: 12 years old. - Dawn Baratheon: 10 years old. - Davey Baratheon: 9 years old. - Robb Baratheon: 7 years old. - Alyssa Baratheon: 5 years old. - Alesander Baratheon: 3 years old.

[mistrose23]

I don’t deserve you - D. Targaryen

SUMMARY: Just a Daenerys fluff for a friend of mine

WARNINGS: Implied drinking, teenage!daenerys

WORD COUNT: 1516

When the evening fell on a chilly summer day, Y/N was walking around the streets of the Free City of Pentos. The young teenager had just visited the market with some friends and now she headed back home. A smile was plastered on her face, because she knew that her best friend Daenerys would be there when she would arrive home. She had picked up Daenerys her favorite flowers, her favorite food and she had found a necklace that would hang perfectly around Daenerys her neck.

Daenerys wasn’t allowed to come to public places, because it would be dangerous for her. It was for her own safety. That’s why Y/N picked up stuff for her. But it still hurt the girl that she couldn’t visit the market or any other public place. She loved Y/N for being so friendly to her and getting her the things that she required. Daenerys lived with her brother and Illyrio Mopatis. Illyrio had given the siblings sanctuary and they could stay at his home for as long as they needed. Y/N was the neighbor of Illyrio and she lived there with her father and younger brother.

Y/N saw her house for afar. She held the basket with goods with a firm grip and she sped up her pace. She hasn’t seen Daenerys all day, because the girl had a ruling class from Illyrio. There were whispers that Daenerys would be wed within two years. Some say that she would be wed to a Dothraki man. When Y/N heard this for the first time, she was sad and hurt. For a long time she had liked her best friend... maybe she liked her even more than just a friend.

As she walked into her house, the warmth embraced her. She undid herself from her scarf and she made her way into the living area. There she was. Daenerys Targaryen. Her white hair shined because of the moonlight and her green eyes sparkled. Daenerys too, had a smile on her face.

‘Good evening,’ Y/N greeted her.

‘Y/N!’ Daenerys exclaimed happily and she ran towards the other girl. ‘I’m so happy to see you!’

Y/N looked at her in confusion. Daenerys was never this happy. What’s going on?

‘Princess, what happened?’ Y/N asked her.

‘Nothing at all!’ the whitehaired girl said and she hugged her best friend. ‘I’m so happy to see you!’

‘Yes, I’m happy to see you too,’ Y/N chuckled uncomfortably. Then she smelled something weird and she saw empty bottles spread over a table. ‘What is that smell? And what are those bottles doing there?’

Daenerys laughed and she placed her hand over her mouth. ‘I drank them.’

‘Princess, are you drunk?’ Y/N asked shocked. Quickly, she placed her basket on the floor and she took Daenerys her hand. She led her to the sofa and she made them both sit down. ‘Stay here.’

Y/N fetched a carafe of water from one of the servants and she headed back to the princess. Daenerys was laying on the sofa and she studied her hair. Her eyes were big and blown.

‘Please, princess, drink some water,’ Y/N pleaded the girl.

‘Why are you so formal, Y/N?’ Daenerys giggled and she accepted the carafe. ‘We are best friends. We know each other’s secrets and we braid each other’s hair.’

Y/N sighed and she sat down on the sofa, behind Daenerys, so that she could lay the girl’s head against her chest. Softly, Y/N stroked Daenerys her white hair. Her other hand laid on her middle. The princess drank some water.

‘What’s on your mind, Daenerys?’ Y/N whispered. ‘Why did you drink?’

Daenerys fumbled her hair between her fingers. Y/N her touch was light and Daenerys could feel her warm breath against her head. The whitehaired princess liked her best friend too. Sometimes, she even thought about kissing the girl. Y/N pressed her cheek against Daenerys her head, she kept stroking her hair and she waited patiently for the answer.

‘Well, two things happened today,’ Daenerys started. ‘Illyrio told me that he found a suitable husband for me. My brother approved. Soon, I will be engaged to Khal Drogo, a Dothraki man. Illyrio still has to take care of everything, so he thinks that the wedding will be in two or three years.’

‘I’m sorry, Daenerys,’ Y/N soothed her. ‘I wish I could do something for you. I know you don’t want to marry this man.’

‘Thank you, Y/N,’ Daenerys mumbled and she held Y/N’s hand with one her hands.

‘What is the other thing?’ the girl whispered into Daenerys’ hair.

Daenerys sighed. ‘I saw you today on the market. I know, I know –’

‘Princess, that was reckless of you!’ Y/N scolded her. ‘It is dangerous for you! If the Lannisters or the Starks or the Baratheons know that you are alive... you could have been killed!’

‘I said I know!’ Daenerys barked. ‘And I covered my hair, I knew what I was doing!’

Y/N closed her eyes and counted to ten. ‘I’m sorry, please continue.’

‘I went to the market, because I wanted to see it for myself,’ Daenerys said. ‘It was nice. The people were so happy and free. But then I saw you and your friends. You were also happy. You laughed so much, your laugh is beautiful. You were enjoying yourself and you enjoyed your time with your friends. That’s something that I can not give you, I’m locked up here. And in a few years I will be send away, because I have to marry a Dothraki man.’

‘Daenerys...’ Y/N muttered. She didn’t know that Daenerys felt this way. It was heart breaking. ‘I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. Does it help if I talk to Illyrio?’

The princess shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I saw you with your friend... that girl. You were hugging each other and she kissed your cheek. I got jealous.’

Y/N was quiet for a second. ‘Y-you were jealous?’

Daenerys groaned. ‘Yes I was jealous! I like you, all right? And not in a friendly way.’

‘What?’ Y/N was surprised. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Did Daenerys just confess her love for her? She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even dared to dream about this moment. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘Of course!’ Daenerys exclaimed and she threw her hands in the air. ‘I liked you since we were... twelve years old.’

Y/N laughed. ‘I’m so relieved. I like you too. I fancy you.’

Daenerys turned her head, so that she could look at the girl behind her. ‘You are not joking.’

Y/N shook her head and laughed again. ‘No, I am not. I want to hold your hand and dance with you and hug you whenever I want. I even think about kissing you.’

Daenerys her mouth fell open, her green eyes were big. ‘I want to kiss you too. May I?’

Nervously, Y/N nodded her head. Daenerys smiled and she sat up. Her hands were placed on Y/N her cheeks, while Y/N laid her hands on Daenerys her middle. Before she bend forward, both girls looked into each other’s eyes. Then, Daenerys’ plump lips were on Y/N’s. The girls were surprised, but they enjoyed it. They moved their mouths and at one point, Y/N bit carefully on Daenerys her lip, so that she could slip in her tongue. Daenerys smiled and caressed her cheek. They didn’t fight for dominance, the two teenage girls just enjoyed their kiss and that very moment.

Y/N was the first to lean back. She needed to breath again and she pressed her forehead against Daenerys’. ‘That was amazing.’

Daenerys laughed. ‘Yes, it was. We should do this more often.’

Now Y/N laughed. ‘We must.’

The whitehaired girl let go off Y/N’s cheeks and instead, she held Y/N’s hand and intertwined their fingers.

‘By the way,’ Y/N said. ‘That girl from the market means nothing to me. She is just a friend of a friend. And before I forget. Don’t go out to the market again without guards. I just can’t lose you.’

Daenerys stared at her and smiled. ‘I promise. Can you show me what you bought at the market?’

‘Of course!’ Y/N said and she stood up. She picked up her basket and brought it with her.

Y/N showed the princess the food that she brought for her and the flowers. Daenerys her face lit up when she saw the goods. She appreciated that Y/N remembered all the things that she liked and that she made the effort to actually gave it to Daenerys.

At last, Y/N picked up the necklace. ‘It’s for you. I saw it and it reminded me of you.’

Daenerys eyed the girl in front of her. Her eyes teared up and she smiled. ‘Thank you so much. I don’t deserve you.’

Y/N smiled as well and she wiped the tear away from Daenerys her beautiful face. ‘You do. As much as I deserve you.’

Y/N put the necklace around her neck and the two girls kissed each other again lovingly.

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

The Little Mermaid (Once Upon A Time in Westeros #2)

Written for a project where I will use fairytales as an inspiration for stories where one half of the OTP has to complete a challenge to reach the other half of the OTP

This should have been the best day of her life, but Joffrey Baratheon doesn't seem eager to complete the trial to prove Westeros that his love for Sansa is true. And so, Sansa Stark, has the most horrible night of her life. Until a charming prince from the Iron Islands saves the day. And the princess.

Fairytale AU // The Little Mermaid elements

Once Upon a Time, in a Kingdom far and far away from here, Sansa Stark had the most horrible evening of her entire life and she wasn’t entirely sure who to blame most for it. The Red Priestess surely was to blame because she had decided to design a trial this cruel and humiliating, as if she had seized the opportunity to teach Sansa a hard lesson. Joffrey Baratheon was to blame because ever since the ball had started he hadn’t even attempted to search for his true love, like he was supposed to do. And Sansa herself was to blame because she had been naive to truly believe that Joffrey was her true love and that the Red Priestess’ trial was going to prove her right.

Tears filled Sansa’s eyes while she watched Joffrey. His blond hair shimmered under the light of a thousand candles. His piercing green eyes followed the graceful movements of all the pretty ladies in beautiful gowns. Ever since the evening had started he hadn’t left his throne. He didn’t have to. Everyone who mattered was more than eager to climb the few stairs to exchange a few words with the young heir to the Lannister kingdom. But he hadn’t seen the girl hiding in the shadows, afraid to be seen, but maybe even more afraid to not be seen.

Her normally beautifully braided hair hung loosely over her shoulders. She wore a plain gown that she wouldn’t even allow her own servants to wear to such an important occasion. No coal surrounded her bright blue eyes and her bare feet were dirty and blooded and in constant pain because they weren’t used to standing this long. If someone would have asked her a question, she couldn’t answer, the words and her voice stolen from her.

What would happen if Joffrey wouldn’t recognise her? What if he wouldn’t cup her face? What if he wouldn’t tell her that she was still beautiful and that no matter who she was and what she wore, he would still love her? What if Joffrey truly didn’t love her, like her sister Arya had always claimed?

Sansa closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The princesses in the stories she liked to read usually waited patiently until they were rescued, but Sansa wasn’t entirely sure if she had the luxury to do so. If Joffrey wouldn’t recognise her before sunrise, if he wouldn’t voice his undying love for her before then, the trial was over and they had both failed. She didn’t want to think of the consequences. She hadn’t truly asked the Red Priestess what would happen if they wouldn’t win. She had been confident that losing simply hadn’t been possible. She had been convinced that she and Joffrey were made for each other.

But either Joffrey was sure that he would complete his task within minutes once he would finally start looking for his future wife. Or he wasn’t as interested in completing this challenge as Sansa was.

Or maybe this was her trial and not his. What if the Red Priestess simply wanted Sansa to overcome her shame?

Sansa opened her eyes again and she gathered all the courage she could find within herself. She left her hiding place and the safe shadows and stepped into the light. But her fear to be stared at had been unfounded. While she made her way towards the steps leading to Joffrey’s throne, no one was seeing her at all. Least of all her betrothed.

Seconds passed. Minutes Passed. The clock in the clock tower chimed one time to indicate that Sansa and Joffrey had only one more hour.

But Joffrey was still not looking for her. He was too busy laughing with three girls gathered around him. And surely he had also had a few glasses of wine too many.

“Princess Sansa?”

She reluctantly looked over her shoulder when she heard a well known voice whispering her name.

“Are you okay?”

If she would have had her voice she would have yelled at him. Of course she wasn’t okay. Did she look okay? This was supposed to be the start of her happy ending! And yet she had never felt more unhappy than she felt right now.

But she could only shake her head and fight the tears burning in her eyes. With her head down and while counting the marble tiles under her bare feet, Sansa walked past Theon Greyjoy, her father’s ward.

“Hey…” Theon reached for her wrist and forced her to stand still. “You don’t have to walk away from me.”

Of course she had. She looked horrible. She was on the brink of crying. And in one hour she would lose everything she had dreamed of her entire life.

But Theon refused to let her go. “Sansa…” His eyes wandered over her loose hair, her plain dress and her bare feet. “Even now you are still the most beautiful woman in this entire room.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. She knew very well that she wasn’t. Not right now. Not like this.

“The prince is a fool not to see it. He’s a fool not to see you.” Theon swallowed. “Don’t tell anyone, but I never liked him much anyway.”

The frustration raced through her veins and she threw her head in her neck. She wouldn’t tell anyone. She couldn’t. Not even if she wanted to.

Theon cocked his head. “You’re not quite talkative right now, are you?”

Sansa let out a deep sigh and shook her head.

“O! It’s part of that trial thing!” Theon crooked a smile, but the smile quickly disappeared when a tear rolled down Sansa’s cheek. “Wait…” He furrowed his eyebrows. “He’s not just a fool, isn’t he?” Theon shook his head. “He’s failing. He’s failing himself and you.” Theon’s grip on Sansa’s wrist tightened and he pulled her with him to the throne. “Prince Joffrey?” Theon cleared his throat, but Sansa wished he hadn’t.

Immediately Joffrey’s eyes found her and the laughter echoing through the hall, where everyone had stopped moving, was deafening and painful. “Look at that.” He stood up from his throne. Slowly, as if he didn’t want to even risk accidentally completing the trial. “Sansa Stark, looking even worse than a beggar.” He spit out the last word and Sansa couldn’t fight it any longer.

Tears leaked from her eyes and as quickly as she could she rushed away. Away from the throne. Away from the staring glances. Away from her betrothed and the black heart in his chest.

“Sansa!” Heavy footsteps hurried after her. “Sansa, please, wait!”

She would have kept running if her ankle hadn’t twisted and if she hadn’t landed on her hands and knees in the mud in the palace garden.

“Sansa…” Theon knelt down in front of her. His curls blew in his face, but not once did he seem to care about his beautiful clothes to get stained. “O, Sansa…” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his surprisingly strong chest. His embrace was warm and comfortable and even though her tears wetted his white shirt, he kept on stroking her hair and didn’t let go of her.

When Sansa had dreamed of princes, she had always imagined her prince to look like Joffrey. But now she started to understand that looks could be deceiving and that looks for sure weren’t everything. Joffrey’s golden hair, his beautiful green eyes, his expensive clothes, his charming smile, they were nothing but a mask hiding a monster.

But Theon wasn’t a monster. If he had been he wouldn’t have been here.

Sansa swallowed when she lifted her head up and looked at the prince who was holding her. For the first time she saw the glimmer in his eyes when he locked his glance with hers. For the first time she noticed the warmth in his smile when he saw her tears had dried. For the first time she realised that Theon Greyjoy cared about her, no matter what she wore and how she looked. Her cared about her, about who she was, about who she truly was.

“He doesn’t deserve your tears, Sansa.” Theon shook his head. “You’re smart. You’re brave. You’re strong. He doesn’t deserve anything from you.” Theon was right and Sansa bent her head. “If it had been me…” Theon hesitated. “I would have won the trial the minute it had started.”

Sansa swallowed when she looked up again and she widened her eyes while she tried to mouth for him to try.

“You want me to…?” Theon’s veins beat visibly in his neck while he reached for her hands. His palms were sweating and for a moment there was nothing but silence. “Okay…” Theon nodded. “Sansa Stark…” He coughed and straightened his back. “I love you.” He blurted the words out. “I love you for a while already. And I know you will never love me back, but I will still love you.”

Sansa smiled and she opened her mouth, forgetting for a moment that her voice was gone. “Don’t be so sure I will never love you back.” Much to her surprise her voice sounded clear and strong. “Because I somehow think I’m destined to love you for the rest of my life.”

Theon’s crooked smile mirrored her own when he leaned towards her. “I finally understand why the Red Priestess wanted me to be here tonight.” His lips kissed her cheek.

“It wasn’t Joffrey’s trial to begin with.”

The wedding of their crown prince, three months later, surprised all the people from the Iron Islands, but soon they learned that they couldn’t have gotten a better queen. And Sansa and her Theon? They lived happily ever after.