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esther-dot · 1 year ago

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Cinderella

Cinder-Jaehaerys 5k by @wendynerdwrites

A gender-flipped Cinderella Story

Lavender's Blue 4k

Once Upon A Time, in a faraway kingdom, Sansa Stark was humming a song while she swept the floors of Winterfell. Her face was covered in dirt and ashes. Her hands were dry and wrinkled from washing clothes and doing the dishes. But her hope and kindness had not been damaged by all those years of being ordered around by Ramsay Bolton and his girlfriend of the week.

The Weirdwood, the Wolf, and the Glass Slipper 5k

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a girl who loved her father very much….A Cinderella version of Jon/Sansa, mixing elements from the Cinderella stories as told by the Brothers Grimm and the film Ever After.

Together All the While incomplete 28k

Sansa Stark wanted to keep her household together. She borrowed a dress. Prince Jon wanted to escape his fate. He stole a horse.

Cinderella gifset by @yenstarkofrivia

Allerleirauh

Past Our Satellites 140k

Inspired and loosely based on the tale Thousandfurs (from Allerleirauh: All-Kinds-of-Fur) and Cinderella by the Brothers Grimm Rough summary of the tale for those who are unfamiliar with it: "A king promised his dying wife that he would not marry unless it was to a woman who was as beautiful as she was, and when he looked for a new wife, he realized that the only woman that could match her beauty was his own daughter." (from Wiki)

Princess Furball 9k

When Sansa's father announces his intent to marry her, she attempts to trick him out of it, demanding impossible gifts. When her father inexplicably succeeds in fulfilling her requests, Sansa fakes her death and flees her father's kingdom in a coat of many pelts. Sheltered by her trusty direwolf, Lady, Sansa is found by the prince of a foreign realm, who christens her "Furball". The former princess hides out working in the king's kitchens as a curiously humanoid animal as war looms. But things change when two kings and a prince die…

Swan Princess

The Little Bird Princess 18k @captainbee89

When Rhaegar defeated Robert Baratheon on the Trident, he only spared Ned out of love for Lyanna. And on the condition that Stark's eldest daughter would one day wed his son and quell the fighting between the North and the Crownlands for good.

This isn't my idea (this is my idea) of fun 10k orphaned

Their eventual marriage is meant to strengthen the Northern/Southern alliance, but Jon Targaryen and Sansa Stark can hardly stop bickering long enough to make peace with each other, let alone their kingdoms. But it only takes a few meddling parents, suggestive friends, and a jealous sorcerer's magic spell to show this couple that what they've been dreaming of has been there all along.

Moodboard and ficlet by @otp-that-was-promised

Every summer since they were children, Princess Sansa and Prince Jon are brought together in hope that they will fall in love and marry, uniting their two kingdoms. When they meet for the first time, the royal children take an immediate dislike towards each other, but as the years pass they gradually fall in love.

Snow White

Younger More Beautiful Queen 1k by @captainbee89

If the rumours were true, Jon Snow would be Sansa's cousin, a suitable match in both name and blood. Together, they could bring the whole of the seven kingdoms together peacefully. With Jon, Sansa would be Queen. As Queen, Sansa could order the death of Joffrey as revenge for Ned Stark's death. And what of her other children? Tommen and Myrcella would be taken from her, labeled as bastards and stripped of all their prospects. How dare this silly little girl be the more beautiful Queen she had feared? She would not have it.

The Dragonknight 7k

The day that Sansa got her moonblood, Queen Cersei's magic mirror named her the most beautiful woman in the world. There was only one thing to be done with the imprisoned Queen of the North... the child had to die. Cersei hadn't counted on her twin's soft heart or the wolf in the woods.

Little Red Riding Hood

Throw me to the Wolves 2k

Winter had been hard on Old Nan and everyone in the village worried about her, so it was decided that Sansa should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some bread and ale. On her way there, she meets a stranger…

In the Company of Wolves 10k incomplete

Fair of face and kissed by fire, Sansa Stark is a force to be reckoned with—with a feisty spirit to match the flare of her flaming hair. Still, there’s no shortage of suitors vying for the hand of the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark—but despite all their clever plans, Sansa vows she will only marry for love. A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger in the woods, sets her on a path of passion and dangerous intrigue. Is Jon her salvation or her damnation? Perhaps he is both.

Red Riding Hood Gifset by @dcbicki

The Steadfast Tin Soldier

Tin, Paper, Snow 17k incomplete

“Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.” The flames danced as high as a dream in a million, billion colours- scarlet, orange, purple, even blue, casting rich shimmering shadows on their faces and their hands and their hair. He steadied himself, stood upright, held onto her for dear life. "Would that we were made of glass," he thought. "Tin doesn't do well here. Nor paper." Higher and higher, the flames rose, crackling, singing. Tin, Paper, Snow, they whispered. It's time to let her go.

12 Dancing Princesses

Drifting through the halls with sunrise 3k

They were selfish girls, it was their choice that sentenced these men to death, month after month. The cycle would continue, soon the girls behind her would forget about the man on the stone steps, they would don their masks and new shoes and dance until the sun rose over the Narrow Sea.

The Little Mermaid

only a salt kiss remains ficlet by @flibbertigiblet

He was drowning, and then he was not. (He hears her before he sees her, his angel.)

wish i could be 10k by @theshipshipper

"Oh dear, you look cold," Queen Cersei said softly, floating next to her. "Come, come. Let's get you inside." The Queen led her into the dark cave, offering her a seat. "Now, then. I'm told you're here because you desire to be with your Prince?" She flicked her hand and an image of Prince Jon erupted from thin air. "Hmm. I see now... Quite a handsome fellow." Sansa couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. She'd wondered how he was faring after the shipwreck and ached to check for herself. She was relieved that he seemed alright. "My sweet summer child, you have it bad," Queen Cersei informed her, a smile in her voice. She blinked. "I -- what?" "You're in love," she clarified with a laugh before swimming towards a tall shelf in the corner. "I know exactly what you need."

Mermaids Have No Tears ficlet

Little Mermaid AU, specifically the Hans Christian Andersen version.

Gifsets: Part of Your World by @tatesharon The Little Mermaid by @swainlake The Little Mermaid by @dcbicki The Little Mermaid by @sardoniyx

General

Jonsa fairytale ficlet and gifset by @thewindsofwolves

Even though Sansa is now fourteen, she still feels a special enthousiasm for magic. And as Jon likes nothing more than pleasing Sansa, he shares the same enthousiasm. Then, as they are both bored during the great annual Christmas party hosted by Sansa’s dad, she asks her cousin to make one of his trick so the night can be less boring. Taking her outside, he brings her to the well, and asks her one of the ribbons she wears in her hairs. He asks her then to close her eyes and make a wish, before dropping the ribbon into the well. I wish we could go into an adventure.

The Snow Queen and the Huntsman Gifset by @dcbicki

Jonsa x Disney gifset by @amandapeetshusband

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY -- next week -> POLITICAL MARRIAGE/MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

#jonsa #jonsa fic #fairytale au #dot fic list #cinderella au #swan princess au #snow white au #little red riding hood au #the little mermaid au

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fierypen37 · 2 years ago

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The Flames Just Get Higher: Chapter 2

moodboard by @libradoodle1

Chapter 2

Dany closed her eyes, pulses of satisfaction ebbing through her as the glow of her release mellowed. The fantasy had dissipated as soon as she came, and here she was, back to cold reality. Between heartbeats, the sting of guilt stabbed her like a snake’s fangs. Gods, she was faithless, heartless. Why could she not love her husband as he deserved? Robb was a good man. Kind, gentle, handsome, strong. All the superlatives girls would sigh over when they dreamed of a husband.

The simple truth was: Robb was not Jon, and thus, she could not love him. Winterfell seemed as far away as Assaha’i to her as they journeyed north. All those leagues, Dany fretted about the northern family with a lineage as old as the continent which she would soon join. Eddard Stark was dead; his heir Robb was Lord of Winterfell in his stead. Robb—named for Robert Baratheon, who given his way, would have seen Daenerys’ entire family slain. Surely the Starks didn’t share this belief—the Starks had not risen in rebellion against her brother.

The Baratheons called their banners and rode north. He persuaded his foster father Jon Arryn to join them, secure in the knowledge that Ned Stark, his oldest friend, would ride to his side. On the banks of the Trident, Rhaegar’s black lance pierced Robert’s breastplate. The rebellion melted away like mist after that. This story her brother the king had told her himself. Never fear, sweet sister. The Starks are renowned for their honor, and by all accounts, Robb Stark is a kind man. I would not send you north if I thought him a villain.

So Daenerys rode with a small entourage of maids and guards. Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard escorted her north in her honor guard. The breadth of her brother’s realm dazzled her eyes. The rolling green hills of the Crownlands, the might of the Trident and the Tumblestone, the marshy stink of the Neck giving way to the clean coniferous scent of the North. Then after a month-long slog through mud and sleet, the crenelated towers of Winterfell gleamed in the mist. Sick to death of the carriage, Daenerys rode ahead on her silver with Ser Barristan at her stirrup. The castle gates were thrown open in welcome, twin banners framing the portcullis. A grey wolf on a field of white. As they arrived, a soft summer snow began to fall. Enchanted, Daenerys dismounted in the bailey, catching the cold, feathery flakes in her hands and watching them melt.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Princess,” a deep voice said. Daenerys turned and her breath caught. He was the picture of masculine beauty. Eyes a dark, smoky grey, watching her with amusement. Wild black curls framed a long face with a square jaw. So this was a Stark face. Rumor said Robb favored his Tully mother but perhaps the word was false. The breadth of his shoulders, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the unexpected softness of his mouth beneath his dark beard. Would it rasp against her skin, or tickle? Oh yes. Yes this will do, whispered some deep inward voice.

“Thank you, my lord. Snow is a wonder. I’ve never seen it before down south,” she said with a shy smile, curtseying deeply. The air between them chilled. Horror filled those grey eyes and he dropped to one knee in the mud.

“Forgive me, my lady. You misunderstand. I am Jon Snow, Robb’s Stark’s bastard brother,” he said. Daenerys swallowed hard, her heart falling to the pit of her stomach.

Robb Stark had appeared then, resplendent in grey samite and white wolf fur. At his heels tumbled a small avalanche of her soon-to-be-family and chattering servants and guards. Threading through it all were the famed tamed direwolves of the Stark children. Huge sleek shapes of grey and black, yipping excitedly along with the children. Ser Barristan and her maids clustered around her, a buttress against the tide. Daenerys beamed, delighted. One of her deepest sorrows was leaving behind Rhaenys and Aegon and the other highborn children that played in King’s Landing’s gardens. The bright noise of chatter and laughter were familiar to her.

A sharp word from the older woman with flowing auburn hair—Lady Stark—quelled most of it. With a charming grin, Robb Stark detached himself from the horde.

“Princess, it is an honor to meet you at last. I see you’ve met my natural brother,” he said, clapping a hand on Jon Snow’s shoulder as he rose to stand beside him. The white direwolf loped to stand beside Jon.

“Jon is a fine fighter and there are no other I trust better. if it pleases you, Jon shall be your bodyguard,” Robb said. A muscle flashed in Jon’s jaw and Daenerys felt her heart sink a little lower.

Attraction to Jon Snow had been a problem from the beginning. Even in their marriage bed, she felt . . . distance between her and Robb. There were ghosts between them. Because Dany wanted Jon. Coveting her husband’s brother. Guiltily fantasizing about Jon as Robb moved inside her. It only got worse in the following months. Much like with his direwolf Ghost, the aloofness and reserve hid a deep well of feeling. Little gestures spoke volumes. Once, she confided her favorite flower that reminded her of home. Moonbloom, with soft purple blossoms and a delicate perfume. Next she knew, there was a sachet of moonbloom seeds beside her place at breakfast. Sansa had helped her plant them in the glass garden. Her good-sister had a real talent for making plants grow and privately confided it was the one place a lady could get her hands dirty. Another time, she had mentioned an obscure book on dragons and found that same book beside her place at the High Table from the maester’s library.

Jon had a knack for listening and a surprising dry sense of humor. There were no awkward lapses in conversation. Silences were comfortable in a way they weren’t with Robb. Her husband was polite and friendly, but there were shadows in eyes. Grief from his father’s death, perhaps? The stresses of leadership? Daenerys offered to help Robb, review accounts, act as his scribe or page. After all, she had grown up at her brother’s knee, in his solar or council room, learning the day-to-day business of ruling. The North was far less populous than her brother’s realm, so what could hurt for Daenerys to take some of his burden? Something like dismay entered Robb’s eyes at her suggestion, and Dany hadn’t dared to suggest it again.

A darker thought whispered it was Robb’s prejudices that built walls between them. Ned Stark had named him for his best friend, Robert Baratheon. Had her new husband learned hate at his father knee, and loathed the silver-haired wife given to him? The unspoken words seemed to pile up between her and Robb. Each one forming the brick and mortar of the wall separating them.

And then this morning. Gods. The way Jon so passionately swore to protect her, the rough caress of his deep voice as he bent over her injured finger—He was her own personal torment. So close, so beautiful, but untouchable. If she touched him, even once, she would kiss him and tumble down a well of transgressions that would damn both their souls. So instead, she made love to ghosts and in the quiet of the lord’s chamber in Winterfell, gasped Jon’s name.

Dany rose from the sumptuous warmth of the bed with a regretful glance. As much as she would like to linger in bed, there was much to be done if they were to leave after the next freeze.

Jon paced in the minuscule room, three paces to one wall, three paces back. Over and over and over. The motion should have helped give vent to the feelings boiling inside him, but instead the well of feeling crept up his throat and he choked down the urge to scream. Dany said his name. Dany said his name. Calling for him as she reached her pleasure. Had it wished it to be so badly that his ears fabricated the sound? If it was real, was it the passing fancy of a lovelorn wife? Or did she . . . could she . . .

A sound from below caught his attention. He peered through the crack. Dany was bustling about the room, resuming her packing. Jon glanced down at himself. No unseemly stains, though he was still hard. He would probably remain so until winter came again. Daenerys had said his name. Jon tucked himself away. Straightened his clothes. Combed his sweat-damp hair from his face. Had the knowledge marked him? Was he lit afire with the knowledge that Dany wanted him? With effort, Jon sought calm, exhaling three deep breaths in succession. He imagined the smell of her lingered in his nose. Rose oil and a musky feminine sweetness.

Jon resumed his post outside Daenerys’ door. The door was cracked. There she was. Puttering about her room, muttering and cursing to herself. Maybe if he took a deep enough breath, he could smell the rich musk of her pleasure. His mouth flooded with saliva. Gods, just a taste . . .

Anchoring himself with practical matters, he noticed the snow had stopped. A watery sun peeked through shredded whisps of silver cloud. That might slow Robb’s plans. If the melt began in earnest, it would hamper the sledges. They could make it to Cerwyn without incident, but the big push west would be slowed by weeks if the snow thinned. Robb chomped at the bit to begin the progress. Father’s death weighed heavily on him, Jon knew. New tension rang from his usually confident posture, there were dark shadows in formerly guileless blue eyes. It was not proper for the lord to confide in a bastard—even if they were brothers. All Jon could offer was his presence, and a listening ear if Robb wanted it. Even though jealousy over Daenerys turned his guts black, Jon would be Robb’s stalwart shield. Ned Stark’s memory would tolerate nothing less.

Jon’s own preparations were small. His clothing, armor, and spare arms were already on the pack pony. The grooms were abuzz preparing the horses. His own stallion Storm awaited him. Temperamental on the best of days, with all the noise and activity, Storm would be even more prone to bite. Though Arya was Dany’s favored racing partner, Jon hoped away from the castle he could challenge Dany’s silver Filagree. Lady Stark would no doubt have words over the propriety of a bodyguard racing his charge. Perhaps the least scandalous of my desires, Jon mused.

Lady Stark had enough to worry over with a six-month gone and Daenerys not yet with child. Ned Stark had accomplished that feat within a fortnight of his wedding—with two different women. First with Lady Stark on his wedding night, then some three months later with an unnamed northern woman on his way south to treat with his brother-by-law Edmure Tully. And of that woman—Jon’s mother—his father said not one word. Jon did not know if she was alive or dead. The more he pondered it, Jon wasn’t certain if his father’s reticence was benign neglect or something more insidious. There’s little good in trying to untangle his motives now, Jon thought, reining his thoughts away from the dark path where they strayed. Too brooding, too reserved, too saturnine. A dark cloud obscuring Dany’s light. Jon winced at the thought.

“Jon?” Dany called.

“My lady,” Jon answered, shouldering through the door. Daenerys was on her knees on the bed, trying to force an over-stuffed chest shut. The half-stifled laugh emerged in a strangled snort. Daenerys leveled a violet slit-eyed glare at him, though there was a tell-tale quiver at the corner of her mouth stifling a smile.

“Are you going to stand there and snicker at me or are you going to help, ser?” Daenerys snapped.

“At your service, my lady,” Jon replied, leaning his elbow alongside hers to heave the chest closed. Dany threw the clasp with a triumphant cry. Jon chuckled. Jon leaned against the chest grinning down at her. Desire was low thrum deep in his gut, a strain of music woven through their every interaction. Still, he treasured laughing with her more than anything. As far as he could see, Robb wasn’t quick to make her laugh.

“I think you’ve enough for the progress, my lady. Enough for next winter too, I’d reckon,” he said.

“Aye, I’m sure you reckon,” Dany said in an exaggerated facsimile of his northern accent. Jon’s grin widened. Gods, she was beautiful. And as charming as a songbird.

“Dany? Are you in here?” Robb’s voice seemed to cut the air between them. Studying her face as he was, Jon thought he saw her smile freeze and falter slightly.

“Here, Robb,” she called. Jon heaved the chest off the bed just as Robb entered the room. He kissed Dany’s cheek in a glancing greeting.

“My lord,” Jon said with a bob of his head. Manners had been dinned into his head from his earliest moments, so deference was given without thought. Robb’s smile of greeting was distracted. Jon scrutinized his brother. The same tall, sturdy strength, his wavy auburn hair combed away from his forehead. The full line of his mouth had a new downward turn, his summer-blue eyes an unfocused air. A chill washed over Jon. Was Robb suspicious of him or Daenerys? Grey Wind trotted in at Robb’s heels, nudging Jon aside to lick Dany’s chin politely in greeting.

“Hello to you, my sweet boy!” Dany cooed to the direwolf, scrubbing behind his ears in greeting. The strong smell of wet dog stung Jon’s nostrils.

“How goes it with the preparations, my lord?” Daenerys asked, looking up from Grey Wind’s adoring golden eyes. Even the direwolves were in love with her.

Robb surveyed the disarray of the room and busied his hands with smoothing the bedclothes.

“We are nearly ready. My only concern is the weather. A hard freeze would be best. We may have to delay our departure until the day after tomorrow.”

“Can we not begin on horseback? I hope the delay isn’t solely a concern for my comfort. I can ride,” Daenerys said, motioning for Grey Wind to sit. The smoke-grey wolf obligingly sat. Dany scratched the smoke-grey fur between Grey Wind’s ears and his yellow eyes dipped closed in slits of canine pleasure.

Jon bit the inside of his lower lip to contain a smile. The hint of pugnaciousness in Dany’s voice amused him. Gods, he loved the fire in her. Jon glanced at Robb to share his admiration in his wife. Robb’s answering smile was thin as a needle.

“That is an elegant solution, wife,” Robb said, squeezing her hand in an affectionate gesture.

“Did you perchance speak with your lady mother about taking the younger o--”

“She wishes them to stay at Winterfell. Bran will accompany us as far as Cerwyn. Mother is of the opinion that he is too young to complete the entire progress.”

The dryness in his tone revealed what Robb thought of his mother’s opinions. Jon swallowed a familiar swelling of anger, seeded as deep as the molten blood of the earth. Too young? Bran was nine. Daeron the Young Dragon conquered Dorne at fourteen. Until Daenerys gave Robb a child, Bran was heir of Winterfell. The heir should know his lands, his people. He should ride at his brother’s side without his mother’s leading strings yanking him from the saddle. But it was not Jon’s place to say, despite Ned Stark’s blood running through his veins. Daenerys’ expression fell.

“I am saddened to hear it. Sansa, Arya, and little Rickon would have loved it,” Dany said softly. A true smile graced Robb’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“You needn’t worry yourself over their welfare, Dany. They’ve feasts and entertainments enough to occupy them. Isn’t that right, Jon?”

Jon scowled. Robb had a nasty habit of seeking Jon’s reinforcement in their arguments. Jon loathed it.

“I think Father would have liked his younger sons to see more of the North, my lord,” Jon said. Robb grunted.

“Humph. Enough blathering. It is decided. We leave at first light, regardless of the weather,” Robb said, pecking Dany’s cheek and leaving in a swirl of leather. Grey Wind rose and loped at Robb’s heels. Dany met Jon’s gaze. He didn’t miss the shadows in them. Robb’s presence was enough to dispel the upwelling of lust the sound of his name had wrought. Whatever Daenerys’ feelings for him, their duty remained. I would do well to remember that.

The next morning dawned with a brilliant golden sun. The reflected light off the glitter of snow stabbed the eye. Wind whispered for the pines, carrying their fresh scent. Clean, cold air filled the lungs and for a moment, Jon forgot his exhaustion in the excitement stretched before them. Preparations had lingered long into the night, so his hours of sleep were few. By one token, it was a boon. He was too exhausted to dream of Dany or the way her lips formed his name as she found her pleasure.

Jon stifled a yawn in his cuff. Storm tossed his black mane, the vapor of his breath curling like smoke in the cold air. Jon steadied him with a pat. He, Robb, Daenerys and Bran sat at the head of the party, beneath the Stark banner, snapping in the breeze. Robb shifted impatiently in the saddle, awaiting the bugle to sound, signaling the baggage wains were at last ready to depart. Bran sat ramrod straight on his piebald pony, his Stark gorget flashing like fish scales in a dark pond. Excitement vibrated from him, the sole Stark child to leave Winterfell. Lady Stark must be tied in knots of anxiety. It was a poorly kept secret that Bran was her favorite.

Jon hid a grin at Bran’s eagerness and glanced at Dany. For their wedding, Robb had gifted her with a magnificent coat of white fur applied in zigzagging patterns. She wore it well. Jon admired the red silk scarf she wore, embroidered with jet thread. A reminder that though her name might be Stark, she was a Targaryen to her marrow. Grey Wind, Summer and Ghost gamboled through the fresh snow, brimming with energy. Filagree sidled and Daenerys soothed her with a murmured word. The silver’s smoke-grey ears flicked back, listening. The silver was a gift to Rheagar from a Dothraki khal across the Narrow Sea. The king had a keen interest in horseflesh and sought to increase friendly ties with the Dothraki. Dany could even speak some of their harsh language, as one of her handmaidens had been fluent in it. When she told the story, sadness darkened those violet eyes. Missandei with her cloud of Summer Islander hair, watchful golden eyes and quiet, beautiful soul. Dany missed her most of all her ladies.

The bugle sounded and gooseflesh stippled on Jon’s arms. Time to leave Winterfell. Blood surged through his body with excitement. The cold nipped at Jon’s ears and nose. Robb heeled his sorrel charger Ember south toward Cerwyn. Bran’s pony lunged at his stirrup. Snow crunched under the horse’s hooves. Bugles sounded, harness jangled, the carts groaned, guards cursed. Snowdrifts crowded them into a line, Robb and Bran in front, then Dany and Jon.

“Tell me of the Cerwyns, husband. They were close bannermen to your lord father?” Dany asked.

“Indeed, wife,” Robb said, craning his neck to smile at Dany, “There was scarce a fortnight Medger Cerwyn didn’t share our table.”

“He’s half deaf, so the entire hall could hear the bawdy tales he shared with Father,” Jon said. Daenerys laughed.

“Certainly no worse than my brother Viserys. He delights in scandalizing me,” Dany said, “And what of Lady Cerwyn?”

“A fever took her three years ago. Her daughter Jonelle is Lady of Cerwyn now,” Robb said.

“She’s nice. She makes honeycakes,” Bran interjected.

“Mm, I love honeycakes!” Dany said, twisting in her saddle to wink at Bran.

“Medger’s son Cley is heir of Cerwyn. He is of an age of Robb and I,” Jon said. What Jon didn’t say is that there were whispers of Cley Cerwyn and his taste for fondling serving maids. Jon wouldn’t be letting Daenerys out of his sight. A woman so beautiful would certainly tempt Cerwyn. Just like she tempted Jon himself.

#jonerys endgame #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #robberys #robb and dany are married #don't like don't read #pining

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