#so like. i think its davos.

[naggascradle]

Covers for A Game of Thrones, I (Jon Snow) II (Daenerys Targaryen) III (Tyrion Lannister) IV (Catelyn Stark) V (Ned Stark) & A Clash of Kings, I (Arya Stark) II (Theon Greyjoy) III (Sansa Stark) IV (Davos Seaworth) V (Bran Stark), drawn by Ken Sugiwara for the Japanese paperback release of A Song of Ice and Fire.

[garak]

Do you think Marya knows her husband is madly in love with Stannis? It would make the lines "I was a better smuggler than a knight, he had written to his wife, a better knight than a King's Hand, a better King's Hand than a husband. I am so sorry. Marya, I have loved you. Please forgive the wrongs I did you" all the more tragic.

i think him being like "lets name our next son stannis" and also just the way he acts in general probably tipped her off on that one

[irmawrites]

Sleeping with the enemy | One-Shot

Summary: your father, Gwayne Hightower, had always told you to beware of Davos Blackwood, son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters. But when you meet him at a party years after graduating college, you can't help but think he's not so bad after all.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: modern!Davos Blackwood x Hightower!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, everyone is 18+ in this)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, praising kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Words count: 4393

Author’s note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time posting here, and I have to admit I'm a bit intimidated ahaha like a lot of people, I fell in love with Davos Blackwood's in episode three and ABSOLUTELY had to write this idea that's been on my mind for a while now.

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

Davos Blackwood had a bad reputation in your neighborhood, that much was true.

The rumors about him had started when you were still in college, something about red liquid smeared on the mirror in the boys' bathroom. A silly prank involving fake blood and strange theatrics to scare off a younger classmate that had perhaps gone too far. It was your own cousin Aemond who had found the fake crime scene just after the culprit had left, still licking his red-stained fingers. It caused quite a stir at the time, and he hadn't been seen on campus for at least two weeks. It may have been fake blood or just a tasteless joke, it was still inevitable that action would have to be taken.

It was Aeron Bracken in particular who had helped make these bizarre stories popular. He told anyone who would listen that Davos Blackwood was a deranged, violent madman. It was no secret that the two young men didn't get along. But no one expected things to get as bad as they did. There had been rumors in the hallways and whispers in the cafeteria, but that wasn't all. His car had been vandalized and marked with insults on several occasions. Even Gwayne Hightower, your father, had warned you.

A real witch hunt.

As far as you knew, however, the main target had remained unaffected by the situation, even toying with those who provoked him. In a way, he almost seemed to enjoy the wild, mysterious aura that all this fuss gave him.

You, for one, had never really believed it. After all, he didn't look like a bad guy, with his big, green eyes and permanently disheveled black hair. He seemed a little strange to you, a little off, but not enough to be considered a clear danger. But your opinion didn't matter much.

Nothing had ever destined the two of you to spend time together. His parents' company only did business with Rhaenyra's, refusing any ties and especially any agreements with the Hightowers. His father seemed to harbor a fierce hatred and boundless distrust of your family, apparently fearing that Otto's overweening ambition would lead him to overturn the order of succession established by Viserys himself and install his own grandson as sole ruler of the company.

And in your world, your parents had a bit more say in who you dated than they did for other people. You couldn't just go out with a guy because he seemed interesting, especially if he was the son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters.

So you'd never spoken to each other in college, let alone at the lavish charity galas your family hosted.

Never, until that day.

"You like Iron Maiden?" a hoarse, unfamiliar voice said from behind you as you wrung the water out of your hair, "or is that your boyfriend's shirt?". The sun was high in the sky and you could feel the heat of its rays burning your exposed neck. The clear waters of the Targaryen family pool sparkled, and the garden echoed with the bursts of voices of those Aegon had invited to what should have been a casual gathering of the younger generation with ties to the Targaryen business.

You didn't think he'd invite Davos Blackwood, though.

"It's mine," you replied, giving the young man a mischievous smile, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the string that held the bottom of your swimsuit to your hip, "and yeah, it's one of my favorite bands actually." He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation, his eyes roaming up and down your body, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Never pegged you as a little rebel," he crossed his arms over his chest before continuing, "more of a model daughter." You knew he was toying with you, trying to tease you, but you were more than happy to play along.

Besides, you understood where the thought came from, you who were usually more used to short skirts and high heels than band shirts.

Mentally, you thanked Aegon for thinking of him. "Be careful, Blackwood," your voice sounded like a playful threat, "you might be surprised."

You were about to leave to return to the deck chairs, but it seemed that Davos wasn't quite finished with the conversation. "Wait," he ordered, taking your wrist between his broad fingers. Mechanically, you glanced around to make sure no one was watching. After all, the last thing you wanted was for someone to spy on your conversation with someone who still belonged to your grandfather's enemy side. "What is it?" it was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you waited for some kind of justification from him. It was clear he had something on his mind, but you just couldn't figure out what. "Do you want to come over to my place sometime?" he finally said, and you felt your breath catch somewhere between your throat and your lungs. "Why?" the question crossed your lips before you could even think about it.

You didn't know each other, had never spoken before, not to mention the fact that your families didn't approve of each other. You were tempted to agree, of course, because whether you liked it or not, you felt this kind of almost magnetic attraction pulling you together.

You'd have liked to think it was fate, but you knew it was just your love of danger and the forbidden.

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts again. "You seem like a pretty nice girl, and we obviously have the same taste in music," he replied, finally loosening his grip on your wrist, "we could watch a movie, get to know each other, something like that." The offer was tempting, the prospect of spending a little more time with him appealing, but even though you desperately wanted to say yes, you knew you couldn't. You had to be reasonable and listen to that little voice in your head that told you it all sounded like a terrible idea. But he seemed to sense your reluctance because he quickly added, "Don't worry, no one will know."

***

Davos’ room wasn't exactly what you'd call tidy. You noticed a half-full ashtray on the windowsill and a few empty cans on his desk. It was the opposite of your own bedroom, neatly decorated and perfectly organized. Your wardrobe drawers were a bit of an exception, but that didn't really matter.

Even so, you couldn't help but find it a little charming. The smell of his cologne in the air, the half-unraveled sheets, this was unmistakably him. It tasted risky and illicit, and it stirred something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. A reaction that no boy had ever managed to provoke in you.

"There's no denying it, vampires really are the best supernatural creatures," you muttered, sinking your teeth into the last slice of the half-cold pizza you'd ordered earlier. You were especially comfortable sitting cross-legged on his bed as the rain pounded against the windows and the end of the movie drew near on his computer screen. His parents were out of town for the week, on a business trip or something, providing you with an opportunity to finally meet away from prying eyes. He seemed quite comfortable too, with his leg pressed against yours and his hand wrapped around his soda cup, which he sipped absentmindedly. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be into movies like this," he told you after a few long seconds, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "given your looks, I thought you'd be more into romantic comedies or something." You held back an annoyed sigh.

"Like I said..." you finally replied, "you should beware of appearances."

They can be misleading sometimes, you kept to yourself.

It was true that you were usually a sweet, sensible girl, the ideal daughter who always smiled and never caused trouble. The pride and joy of your parents. But lately you had grown tired. Tired of following orders, of doing everything you were told without ever being able to listen to your heart. You were eager to get rid of this constant fear of disappointing your loved ones if you didn't live up to their expectations, and it seemed that life had given you the perfect opportunity to free yourself from all that. 

"Is there something I should know?" the young man’s hand came to rest on the top of your thigh, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin there, "some dark secret of yours, princess?". His almost mocking tone and the annoying nickname were enough to bring back that scorching heat in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you, at your breasts, made you think that he was affected by this sudden closeness, too. His gaze burned, almost as much as his fingers, which were now creeping dangerously up the hem of your shorts. And when you felt them graze the lace of your underwear in the hollow where your leg and hip met, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd bitten off more than you could chew.

But even though you were entering unfamiliar territory, something foreign to you, you refused to lose control and let him take what he wanted without saying a word. This wasn't your style. You always had a witty comeback ready to go. And you were going to show him.

Slowly, you moved forward a few inches on the bed to sit astride his very inviting lap, never taking your eyes off his lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and you could feel the hardness of his desire beneath your thighs. Gods, the sensation was divine. This was your doing. You and no one else’s. The sudden surge of power and dominance made your head spin. "Be very careful what you do now," his fingers settled on your hips to bring your chests a little closer together, his grip tight and bruising. "Or what?" you replied in an almost insolent, even provocative tone.

"Or we could end up doing something you might regret."

This was all a very bad idea, that much was true. Davos Blackwood was a very bad idea. But you didn't want to dwell on what the future might hold, let alone the potential consequences of your actions. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of his hands on your skin, more of his lips on yours, and more of him.  

And it seemed that he, too, was eager to take it further.

His fingers made their way up from your waist to your chest, slipping under your tank top to brush his thumbs over the two little hardened buds. The ghost of a touch, really, but it was enough to make you moan. Your mouths were now just a few inches apart, your breaths mingling, but you didn't want to kiss him yet, choosing to prolong this delicious, exhilarating tension for a few minutes longer.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "Do you feel it?". He backed up his words with action, rolling his hips and planting a kiss right at the corner of your jaw. "You know what this is?" he added, rolling one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb, "what happens to a man when a woman behaves the way you do?". Of course I know, you wanted to say but the words stuck in your throat and only a moan managed to break through the barrier of your lips. You weren't stupid, you were perfectly aware of what happened in this kind of situation. But you'd never seen it, let alone touched it, and the theory was very different from the actual reality.

"Shut up," you replied at last, before planting a kiss on his lips. You didn't mean it, though. To be honest, you wished he would talk to you like that all night long, sending a wave of heat straight to your core with words alone. His tongue found yours, silencing your thoughts, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from losing your footing. "Such a foul mouth," he said, smiling against your lips as he gave you time to breathe, "we'll see if you're still so talkative once I'm done with you."

The young man's hands found the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, and soon it was your shorts that suffered the same fate, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. You suddenly felt exposed, lying there under that hungry gaze that regarded you like a precious gift, a prized possession. You waited eagerly for his next move.

Where was the bold young woman who had taken the lead just a few minutes earlier, the one so determined not to lose control? It seemed like she'd already vanished, replaced by some shy creature beneath his crude words and inappropriate touch.

"What are you going to do to me?" you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to the skin of your neck, which he was kissing with increasing fervor. "Nothing you won't like," he replied as he stood up to get rid of his t-shirt, which joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his toned torso dotted with dark hairs, your hands itching to touch him.

Soon enough, his lips found your jaw, then your neck, then the top of your chest, and you immediately shivered. The weight of his body lying on yours was delightful, comforting. "Please..." you whimpered as your hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to give you what you were so desperate for. You felt his fingers slide slowly against the skin of your belly, then lower, much lower, to play with the lace of your underwear, and your back arched almost reflexively. You wanted more, you needed more, and you were getting tired of waiting.

"Be patient, princess," he said, nibbling on the soft skin of your breast, his mouth soon wrapping around your hardened nipple. A grunt escaped you, and you weren't quite sure if it was from your frustration or the dominant tone he had just used. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties to tease the top of your slit before brushing over your already soaked folds. It was annoying, really, the effect he was having on you with such a light touch. But it was heavenly, and you had decided to ignore the voice of reason for the night.

His index finger found the little pearl nestled at the apex of your center, and the contact felt like a delicious electric shock. You threw your head back, eyes closing, lips parting in a silent cry as he drew little circles around your most sensitive area. "Have you ever had anyone here?" he asked after a few seconds. When you didn't answer, he added: "I asked you a question, and I want you to answer me." There it was again, his commanding, almost controlling tone.

"N... no," you stammered as you opened your eyes again to meet his, "nobody." You suddenly felt like prey under his hungry gaze that devoured your trembling body. "Perfect," you heard, just before his fingers found your entrance, which was already clenching around nothing, "and here?".

The idea of being the first to enter you seemed to obsess him.

You nodded, this time from left to right, signifying that no, you had saved your virginity for the right man, the one who would know how to make you tremble under his ministrations, the one who would know how to make you beg for more, always more.

"Perfect," he repeated again, as the first knuckle of his index finger sank agonizingly slowly into you, teasing your inner walls. It was barely there, nothing really, and yet you already felt incredibly full. "You're so tight," he growled against the skin of your throat, "so warm too, you're going to feel amazing around me." He added a second knuckle and soon his finger was completely buried inside you. It felt good, and it felt right, but it didn't feel like enough. You wiggled your hips and it seemed as if Davos had understood your silent request immediately. "I need you to take another," he straightened on his left elbow to look at you with lust-blown pupils, "do you think you can do that for me?". Once again, you nodded your head in agreement, but this time it didn't seem to be enough for him. "Use your words, princess." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I... I can take more," you murmured right against his lips as you looked down between your thighs.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and rough as you felt his middle finger pressing into you. He curled them both, brushing that spongy spot against your inner wall, and you threw your head back.

You dug your nails into his pale skin to stay anchored in the present as his thumb found your clit. But you knew you wouldn't last long. You could already feel tingles of pleasure buzzing through your body, and in the pit of your belly, the fires of delight burned a little more fiercely. You wanted to warn him, to tell him you were close, but he was quicker than you: "Come for me."

He didn't need to tell you a second time.

Soon, the wave of your orgasm washed over you.

It made your whole body shake with spasms, your climax exploding like fireworks behind your eyelids. Your lips crashed against his neck to stifle your final moan as your back arched under the intense sensation. The young man was merciful enough to give you a few seconds to recover before withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and frustrated. "Look at the mess you made," you heard him groan, "clean it up." His index and middle fingers brushed across your lips, which parted eagerly to welcome them into your warm mouth.

You timidly wrapped your tongue around them under his predatory gaze. The mere thought that you could taste yourself on your taste buds set your body on fire once again. It was indecent, inappropriate, and you probably should have been ashamed to be used like this, but you couldn't care less.

Maybe it was his fault, or maybe you'd just found each other despite everything that kept you apart.

His fingers left your mouth to wrap around your neck. But as he lay back on the mattress and guided you towards his lips, you resisted. Once again, you straddled his hips, only this time completely naked. He looked at you for a few seconds, a little confused, until you reached under the elastic of his underwear to slide it down his legs. This seemed to make him realize the extent of your intentions. His hard member jumped free and caught your eye. Standing proud with a mass of dark curls adorning its base, the sight alone made you salivate. "Let me thank you," you said, as your fingers gently traced its length. "I want to make you feel good too." You slowly moved between his legs to kiss his inner thighs.

You reached out tentatively and wrapped your fingers around his manhood. It felt heavy in your hand, massive and your index finger couldn't quite touch your thumb because it was so wide. You brought your lips to his crotch and, watching Davos from beneath your long lashes, planted a quick kiss on the head where it was already weeping for you. Your tongue traced a vein on the underside without ever breaking eye contact. He threw his head back, his lips parted to let out a muffled curse.

The rush of power you felt when you saw him so vulnerable under your touch was sinfully delicious.

You tilted your head to the side to plant a series of kisses all along his hardened manhood, your big innocent eyes still locked with his. There was a pause, a few tense seconds, before finally, finally, you moved your head forward to take him fully into your mouth. His big hand found refuge at the back of your skull, and you let him guide you completely.

The grip on your hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. "Breathe, through your nose," the young man ordered, but his voice was more urgent than before, his breathing becoming ragged from the growing pleasure. "You can do better than that." The fingers buried in your locks soon forced you to swallow him whole, your nose pressed against his pelvis, the unruly hair tickling your face. You could feel yourself drooling around him, the action messy. "Such a filthy girl," he said as his thumb came to caress the corner of your mouth, right where his member disappeared between your lips, "sucking my cock like a real whore." You let out an audible moan around his length in response to the foulness of his words.

But instead of disgusting you, it only served to encourage you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, still following the rhythm of his hand, which had resumed its place at the back of your head. He was big, and he filled your mouth in a way you hadn't experienced before, but you wanted to prove to him that you could satisfy him, that you could make him proud. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, which he hastily wiped away with the tip of his free thumb. "Shh... you're doing so well," he praised you in a reassuring tone. You knew he was close to reaching his climax. His breathing had become labored, his movements erratic, and it was evident that you were causing him to lose his balance. But it seemed he didn't want to end it that quickly.

"Wait, not yet," he straightened into a sitting position, placing his hand on your cheek to force you back a few inches, "I'd hate to waste it." The implication made your cheeks flush, but you couldn't help but look forward to what would come next.

His hands came to rest on your waist, encouraging you to sit on his hips again, this time making his still impossibly hard manhood brush against your soaked cunt. The contact alone was enough to elicit a moan from you. His own fingers wrapped around his member as he guided it towards your narrow entrance.

And after what felt like an eternity, he finally thrust into you.

He stretched you to perfection, the foreign sensation a mixture of delicious pain and aching pleasure. "Fuck princess, you're tight," your head found refuge in the hollow of his neck, but you could hear that annoying smirk in his voice, "I'm going to ruin you." And oh how you couldn't wait for him to make good on his threats. "Move," you pleaded against the skin of his throat as you hesitantly moved your hips up and down to get that delicious friction you craved. He seemed hell-bent on teaching you self-restraint, even though you desperately wanted to see him lose control. He grabbed your waist in a firm grip, keeping you pressed against his hips and making you whine. "Did I say you could move?" he asked, kissing the side of your jaw. Once again that night, you'd annoyed him by not answering, and he repeated, "did I say you could move?".  

It seems he was also trying to make you learn obedience, in addition to patience.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the young man used his grip on your waist to pull back almost completely, revealing his member glistening with your sticky juices before thrusting himself into you once more. His head was rubbing against that most delicious spot inside you, making your legs tremble with pure bliss. "Please, I..." You didn't even know what you were asking for as he moved back and forth continuously. You thought he'd ask you to speak again, but he was too caught up in pleasure and close to his release to be bothered by your pleas.

But even if he'd lost his rhythm, it was clear he was still determined to satisfy you. His thumb was back on your little pearl, tracing small circles around it, while inside you his length relentlessly pounded against your inner wall. You could feel yourself clenching around him, and the heat between your thighs was back with a fiercer intensity than ever. “I’m going to fill you up,” his teeth nibbled at the soft skin of your neck, marking it possessively, “I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take everything I’m going to give you, feel me for days.” The moans that came out of your mouth were now completely incoherent, a confused jumble of yes and please.

Your climax hit hard and fast—stronger than the one Davos had offered you earlier that night. You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red half-moons as evidence of your forbidden actions. Your back arched off the mattress, pressing his body against yours as reality slipped through your fingers and a myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids. He followed you just a few seconds later, pouring into you with white ropes.

He stayed inside you for a few more moments, his length softening. But neither of you felt like moving, not when you were so comfortable, lying against each other, your limbs tangled. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead that made your heart clench. You still refused to think about the future and the problems that might arise from such a strong connection between the two of you. All that mattered for the moment was his skin against yours and your fingers in his hair.

"We should do that again," you murmured as you kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, "someday."

He smiled.

"We will," he said with confidence, "I'll make sure of that, princess."

The nickname made your stomach flutter with excitement.

[adancingalien]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader

summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it

warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.

word count: 3.9k

note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting

It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you. 

Marriage.

You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice. 

Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.

Benjicot Blackwood.

Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.

And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky. 

You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are. 

Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.

He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.

“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”

As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.

“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”

Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.

“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.

“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”

The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.

His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”

“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.

Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”

You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.

“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”

“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.

Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”

“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”

You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.

“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”

Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.

“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.

“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”

“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.

You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter. 

“I can't Benji.”

“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”

“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”

Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man. 

It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.

“I'll just take you then!”

Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.

“What.” You can simply find no other words.

Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield. 

“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”

“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”

“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”

“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”

He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.

“Just… leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”

He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.

It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.

It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair. 

You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.

“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”

At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.

“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”

You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration. 

“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”

“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”

You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.

“I would have your child.”

Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.

“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”

“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”

At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.

“It is…” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just…” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat. 

“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.

“You have done it to me many times.”

“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.

“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”

“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.

Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly. 

“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”

“You think I care what others say of me?”

“I think you will care when it happens.”

“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.” 

You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.

“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”

Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.

“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”

“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”

At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.

“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is… it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”

At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path. 

“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”

“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”

“I am ready.”

A coy smile spreads across your face.

“Let me convince you.” 

At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.

His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip. 

His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips. 

It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.

“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.

 He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.

“What you grinning about him?”

“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”

His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again. 

“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”

You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.

“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.

It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.

“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”

You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.

“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”

“You have me sweet one, you have me.”

You pull roughly on his hair at his words.

“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”

His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.

“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”

Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.

“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”

At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.

“Stay.”

A simple command that he follows without question.

[the-fiction-witch]

Bracken Bunny

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Davos Blackwood Couple - Davos X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Bracken Rating - Smut (Non Con) Word Count - 1503

Warnings - Blood, Non Consent, Kidnapping

I held my breath, keeping my lungs strong and stiff. My knees were deep in the thick, slimy mud but I kept my legs still so I didn’t sink or slide any more. My fingers trembled slightly as I held the string taut. I watched my line of sight as the rabbit nibbled at the grass and slowly popped up its head. So I released the string sending the arrow across the grass and striking the rabbit.

I hurried over, taking my arrow back and putting the rabbit into my bag with the few rabbits, birds and mushrooms I had gathered while hunting.

It wasn’t much, I hadn’t found much of anything all day. The rainy and damp days are likely sending most game away.

I slowly walked the border between Bracken and Blackwood land, looking for any game on our side. Often gritting my teeth if anything was on theirs, I wanted to take it but I didn’t want to give any excuse for a fight.

I stopped short as I saw a deer chewing on a tree, I quickly grabbed an arrow and used the border stone to rest my foot to keep me from sliding on the mud. I held my breath as I drew my bow and quickly let it go, but the deer jumped away and I missed.

“Shit.” I sighed,

I’m not letting it go, I hurried over the border and followed the deer as close as I could to see it but not spook it.

The deer once again stopped in the open Blackwood field to eat some grass, I made sure it couldn’t see me as I drew another arrow making sure to line it up perfectly holding my breath and keeping my arm straight.

Just as I was about to release the arrow, I felt the cold sting of a blade against my bare skin, the blade pressed against my neck, and the hot breath on my ear. “Drop the bow,”

“Or what?” I whispered,

“or drown in your own blood.” He warns, “Drop it. Now.”

I grit my teeth and put my bow down on the grass,

“Good, now… tell me, what is a little bracken babe doing on blackwood land?”

“Tea Party,” I spat back,

“Humm, you weren’t planning on striking down that deer were you darling? A Blackwood Deer on Blackwood Land.”

“It’s not a Blackwood Deer, it was on Bracken land when I-”

“And now it’s on Blackwood land making it a Blackwood Deer.” He interrupted, “So? Did you plan to shoot?”

“... Yes.”

He chuckled, “I could have your head for that,” he paused, “But… you have a rather pretty head,”

I gasped, “Let me go. Let me go I’ll go home.”

“Awww… no, it’s a little late for that my little Bracken,” He chuckled smugly, “You are going to stay right here with me,” He growled his tongue slipped from his lips to lick the lobe of my ear, his other hand came around me holding my hip sliding over my dresses damp fabric, he got handsy sliding across me with little regard like I was some whore from a blackwood brothel.

I squirmed but he just held me tighter pressing the blade closer to my skin so if I moved more than even a breath it would cut my skin, “Let me go,”

“Now why would I do that? I think you and I could enjoy ourselves out here.” He purred, as his hand getting braver and less considerate brushing his hand across almost all of me, “quiet the pretty little thing aren’t you?”

“Let me go!” I snapped,

“No, no, you’re going to let me have my fun. Or I’ll cut your head off. You’re choice.” He demanded, “Yes?”

I didn’t answer merely huffed knowing I had little choice in this matter,

“Good,” He praised as his hand cupped my breast through my dress,

I gritted my teeth to stop my violet insults at him, trying to think of a way of getting out of this,

“Hum… how did the brackens ever get a pretty little thing like you,” He growled as he took the blade from my neck but before I could even move he pressed his body completely against my back thrusting his hips into mine and forcing me to feel the stiff shaft below his trousers, his other hand came to cup my other breast, his hands squeezing and fondling me. “Usually all Bracken girls are wide horse-faced little shits who look like they got pummeled with a sword… but you,” He smirked, “You’re beautiful, and ever so pleasing to touch little bracken.” He praised, “Let's get a better look at you,”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” I warned,

“Ohh I would, I would dare darling,” He smiled in my ear as he grabbed the fabric of my dress and gave it a firm tug forcing the top of my dress down and exposing my breasts to the air,

I screamed and tried to squirm away but he held me too tight,

“Ohh yeah, a very pretty little bracken,” He growled cupping my bare breasts in his hands and squeezing them hard, “Maybe I should take you back to Raventree Hall with me,” He purred gliding his tongue across my cheek,

I didn’t answer, too busy trying to get out of his perverted grip,

“Would you like that? Should I drag my little Bracken home with me kicking and screaming? Throw her on my bed and fuck her cute little cunt?” He smirked one hand moving from my breast to force its way between my legs grabbing me through my dress,

“My father-”

“Like I give a shit about your father. Or any other Bracken, All I want right now is this.” He smirked squeezing me tighter, “And I am very tempted to steal it,”

“Let me go. Let me go right now, or I will scream so loud every man in Stone Hedge will come and-”

“And what?”

“And drag you to Stonehedge on the back of their horses, and hang you from the tower.”

He chuckled, “You can’t really blame me, look at you. On Blackwood land, with muddy knees, a soaking dress, with your tits out. How am I meant to resist you?” He began to twist on my nipple as it hardened from the cold air,

I screamed from the pain, but he didn’t care. His one hand squeezing my breast his fingers twisting and tugging on my nipple, his other hand between my legs stroking so hard his fingers moved between my folds through my dress, his hips rubbing against my back forcing me to feel his hard shaft,

“Fuck… I might not be able to wait, I might just need to bend you over in this field,” He growled,

But quickly while he was so distracted I grabbed my blade from my belt and turned quickly sliding on the mud and grass and slicing his cheek as I did,

“Ahh! You little fucker!” He grabbed my wrist and for the first time we made eye contact, His smile only grew as he realized who I was,

And I gulped, eyes wide and becoming breathless as I now knew… which blackwood he was. Davos Blackwood, Lord Blackwood’s violet, hot-headed son, and I instantly realized just how fucked I was.

“My, my, my… Looks like I don’t just have some pretty little Bracken girl in my arms,” He smirked squeezing my wrist until I was forced to drop my blade, “But I have the pretty little Lady Y/n Bracken in my arms,” He growled licking his lips, “Ohh yeah, you’re coming to Raventree with me little lady,” He smirked as he forced me back around and used my belt to restain my hands behind my back,

“No, I am not,” I demanded my voice shaky,

“Yes, you are, How ever could I pass up such an opportunity? To keep little lady Bracken as my prisoner. They’re gonna have to be very compliant to get their little lady back.” He smirked, “And in that time I… will get to make very good use of you,” He growled biting my neck, “And I’ll be sure you pay you back for that little cat scratch,”

“I swear you try and take me I will scream bloody murder the whole way to Raventree,”

“Will you now?” He chuckled, “Not if I do this,” He grabbed my ribbon choker necklace forcing it off me and before I could even protest he forced it between my lips and tied it behind my head gagging me and silencing me.

I screamed but it only came out as a muffled mess, I tried to squirm but the belt held me too tight, I had no choice, no option but to do as he demanded.

He forced my dress back up to hide my breasts and wrapped his cloak around me pulling the hood up so anyone we encountered wouldn’t know who I was, “Come on now my little Bracken Bunny, Let’s get you someplace comfy.” he smirked taking my blade and my bow as he forced me to walk with him. 

[stabbythespaceroomba]

I swear I’ve seen things about Bracken-Blackwood marriages to make them stop feuding (and them failing ofc),,,, and unfortunately I am a slut for a good arranged marriage,,,,, but likeeeee

Aeron, who’s told by his uncle that he is marrying for the perceived good of their house, to a Blackwood girl and being unable to wriggle out of it. He’s not the heir, he’s an expendable relative to sell off for some peace in the riverlands.

Its a sick sense of irony that strikes him when he’s told. Aeron’s struggled with loving a Blackwood and not being able to pursue that Because he’s a Blackwood, only to have that struggle unknowingly thrown in his face. Everyone thinks he looks sick and sad bc he’s marrying a Blackwood - but it’s because he’s marrying the wrong Blackwood.

Give me an Aeron whose married to Davos’ cousin or godforbid sister, who is so close and still so far, whose duty not only to his house but also his marriage binds him in knots.

((And give me a Davos whose determined to ruin this wedding, to not have to share Aeron with one of his own house bc it’s liveable to go against the families’ feud, but his own?))

Give me Davos in a wedding dress and veil when all else fails because it’s not like his cousin/sister/a girl in his house wants to marry a Bracken, and it’d be ‘a funny tric to ruin the wedding’ until the wedding goes ahead and Whoops they’re married before the 7 and the Old Gods

[velieditss]

Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader

Summary: He hates you, he really does, but no more than you.

An: Bombastic side eye, criminal offensive side eye👀

This is the second chapter, you can check the first one here: Ch1

Davos stood by the window of his room, watching the carriage as it slowly made its way along the winding path. His forehead and hair were beaded with sweat; the pain coursing through his body numbed even the wound he still bore. The night before, he had been informed that one of the Brackens had stopped at a nearby inn, just a few hours away.

The message, distorted after passing through several hands before reaching him, did not specify which of the Brackens was on the way. Davos hoped it was one of the brothers, ready to settle the matter, but he doubted it. King Viserys's envoy had assured him that the Brackens would follow the king's "suggestion." Suggestion!

The anger still burned within him over how that "suggestion" had been conveyed and the blatant threats that accompanied it. Yet, the king’s envoy seemed indifferent, as if he cared little how his words were received or the chaos they might unleash; he was simply doing his duty.

Beside him, Alysanne was not watching the carriage but observing Davos with a furrowed brow. She was the only one in the family who had not received the news with pessimism; to her, it was a well-deserved punishment for what they had brought upon innocent people. In short, a fate worse than death: having a Bracken for a wife.

“You need to get back to bed,” Alysanne said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Stop giving me orders just because you think I’m weak. Did you send that letter to our father? I’d prefer he learns of the king’s abominable demand from me, not through rumors, in case this goes public.”

“Of course, it was the first thing I did when our guest left,” Alysanne replied with the confidence of someone who always fulfills their duties.

Davos was sure that, along with the letter, his sister had sent a detailed account of what had happened, not omitting a single detail that could further tarnish his image before their father.

Benjicot, despite his young age, had the spirit of a warrior and did not fear the Brackens; in fact, he had played a key role in the three duels that took place. But he was too young to marry, and Alysanne... Davos would rather sacrifice himself than allow his sister to suffer such a vile fate.

At least, if the Bracken girl was under their roof, they could keep an eye on her and maintain some advantage. But if Alysanne were the one betrothed, they couldn’t protect her in that madhouse.

For all these reasons, and because they would lose half of their fortune if they disobeyed, Davos had not offered any of his siblings to comply with the king’s order.

Alysanne shook her head in exasperation.

“I offer good advice, not orders. It wouldn’t hurt you to listen to me once in a while. But don’t count on me to drag you back to bed if you collapse. I’ll get the servants to do it.”

“I’m not going to die, and I’m not so weak that I can’t throw you out of my room,” Davos retorted with a hint of irritation.

“Tell that to the Bracken girl. I’m sure she’s spent half the week praying for your death,” Alysanne replied, pointing at the tiny carriage in the distance. “And yes, you are weak. You’re sweating like a horse and can barely put on your trousers…”

Davos turned his back and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Alysanne used to keep him on his toes, both verbally and physically, and he used to be grateful for it, but not now, not since he had returned home with that cursed wound. The previous one had been a mere scratch; this one, however, worsened every day.

He didn’t need a grand maester to tell him; he knew the wound wasn’t healing as it should. He had regained some strength after losing a lot of blood, only to be struck down by fever again.

Returning home had been foolish; he should have stayed near where he was injured to receive treatment, but he didn’t want word to spread that Raylon had almost ended his life. He would rather die than give a Bracken that satisfaction. And it could still happen; he felt half-dead, though more from the damn fever that wouldn’t break.

The anger didn’t help either: having to face the king’s threat and the enemy at his door while in this condition only fueled his rage.

“Put her in one of the towers when she arrives,” he told his sister in a tense voice. “Until I decide what to do with her.”

Alysanne crossed her arms, annoyed by his tone, as if she were a mere servant rather than the sister who had raised him like a son.

“The order you received was to marry her,” Alysanne pointed out dryly.

“I won’t do it,” Davos replied firmly.

“So you’ll reject her?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “I warn you, you’ll be sacrificing your share of the fortune, and you’d better not touch mine.”

Davos shook his head.

“I won’t sacrifice anything, because it won’t be necessary. She’ll hurry back home, and the Brackens will face the consequences when she does.”

“And how do you plan to make her leave?”

“There are ways to scare off women like her,” Davos responded, giving her a grim look.

Alysanne raised an eyebrow again, skeptical.

“Very well, but do I need to remind you we only have one remotely habitable tower?”

“Well, she won’t have trouble finding it, will she?” Davos replied, his tone as dry as Alysanne’s.

Alysanne was about to leave the room but stopped and, in a serious tone, warned him:

“You’re not at war with that girl; you’re at war with her brothers. Mistreating her will do no good.”

“She’s a Bracken. They’re all the same, even if I’ve never seen her. And she serves an important purpose: she’ll make Raylon and Olyver Bracken lose their lands and fortune.”

A spark lit up Alysanne’s eyes.

“I’m glad to see you’re not as crazy as you seem. Sorry, I mean that you’re acting with some logic.”

“This isn’t a good time to test my patience, Aly,” Davos warned her. “I need my riding clothes. I won’t be home when the enemy knocks on the door.”

“The maester said you should stay in bed,” Alysanne said, sighing in frustration.

“I’ll rest once I’ve calmed my anger with a ride.”

“You’ll need the maester if you insist on riding! For the old gods’ sake, Davos, be reasonable. Your stitches will tear, and your horse won’t like the smell of blood.”

“There are many things my horse doesn’t like, including you. How he’ll react to the blood remains to be seen; and now, enough with the bad omens. Don’t try to stop me, just this once.”

“That’s what you told me a week ago, and now the old gods are sending you a Bracken as a wife,” Alysanne retorted, her frustration spilling over before Davos could protest.

“I’ll fetch the maester and then deal with your ‘bride.’”

Davos slowly made his way to his dressing room.

“She won’t be my bride,” he muttered disdainfully.

Alysanne headed for the door and, without turning back, promised:

“I’ll have her placed in the least comfortable room we have.”

“In the tower,” Davos insisted.

“Fine. But it doesn’t have a bed.”

“Then let her sleep on the damned floor!” Davos exclaimed.

With that order, the door slammed shut.

𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎

The imposing three-story manor had a façade clad in dark grey stone, almost black, though it might have been the moss or ivy covering it that contributed to its somber appearance. From a distance, it was difficult to make out the details. Two towers rose majestically at the corners of the large rectangular building, giving it the air of an ancient, fortified castle. In front of each tower stood a massive tree, both in full bloom, whose branches obscured the rest of the estate, plunging it into an even deeper mystery.

“It looks like a sad, gloomy, and intimidating place,” you thought with a shiver.

The path to the house was lined with trees, though they were arranged irregularly, as if planted without a precise design. Ivy climbed the dark grey exterior walls, but it had been meticulously trimmed in front of the front windows, leaving the interior visible without obstructions. Above the main entrance, you could see a large, circular stained-glass window, though from the outside you couldn’t discern if the glass formed any image. On either side of the double doors were well-trimmed bushes, giving an impression of order that contrasted with the melancholy of the place. Eavesdropping under the windows wouldn’t be easy; they were too high.

One of your servants helped you down from the carriage. You smoothed your bronze-colored pelisse, which reached your knees, and glanced down to make sure the hem of your dress was in place, barely covering your shoes. You decided against wearing the hat in your hand, and at that moment, the sun peeked timidly through the clouds. «Is that a good omen?» you wondered. But perhaps not; it simply meant that, at least for now, it wasn’t raining.

“They should have seen or heard us arrive and would be out here to receive us. Their staff leaves much to be desired if we have to knock on the door,” you murmured, looking around with a mix of irritation and unease.

«Could we have the wrong house?» you thought with a knot in your stomach.

«Hopefully...»

The thought was almost a prayer. It was also possible that this was a subtle way of letting you know you weren’t welcome, but you chose not to say it aloud. You’d had a knot in your stomach for days, but at that moment, the sensation intensified. You feared you might vomit right there; the servant who had to clean it up would despise you, and that wouldn’t be a good way to start, in case you were allowed into the house. The servants waited for the order to unload your trunks, but you were paralyzed, as if anxiety had completely trapped you.

Your destination was in sight, so close you could almost touch it. Within an hour, you would meet your future husband, if he was even there. The emissary had assumed he was, but what if Davos Blackwood wasn’t home? What if he hadn’t even been informed of the marriage? That could mean a postponement! And that, far from worrying you, seemed perfect. Perhaps you would meet some Blackwood’s... or perhaps not. Maybe Lord Blackwood had been warned of what would be demanded of his son and had decided to remain inaccessible indefinitely, thus avoiding the news. Or maybe you’d love living there, as long as Davos didn’t show up, leaving the house to you alone. Or, in the most delirious of dreams, all the Blackwood’s would already be dead, and you could live happily in their home without anyone bothering you.

Ten minutes passed, maybe more. It seemed no one was home that day. Or maybe the Blackwood’s didn’t have servants... Excuses, more excuses. You knew well they were an eminent and wealthy family. This was undoubtedly a rejection. If they didn’t open the door in the next few minutes, you’d be back at that inn, celebrating your victory and freedom. You’d tell everyone you had survived the worst of fates, and that the gods had always been on your side. But if things didn’t go well... well, then the vision of the rock, the cliff, and the sea returned to you. Life wasn’t that good if you thought about it carefully.

You straightened your shoulders and gestured to your maid to knock on the door. She advanced uncertainly and raised her fist, almost losing her balance when one of the doors suddenly opened, leaving her about to punch the air. You shot a furious glance at the man standing in the doorway and remained silent. One look was enough to know that, for your good (or bad) luck, the Blackwood’s had indeed sent someone to receive you.

“My lady awaits you,” the servant said in a dry, direct tone. There was no apology, no greeting, no question. His attitude confirmed his position; you only knew he was a servant by the clothes he wore.

You glanced sideways at your maid before following the man, who seemed to share the same disdain for you as the rest of these lands and their inhabitants.

“Excuse me, why did you take so long to receive us?” you asked as you took hold of your dress’s hem, walking with your head held high to avoid showing weakness. “What was the dilemma that made you ignore us?”

“My lady wanted to ensure the rooms were clear before inviting you in,” he replied without turning around.

«Your lady?» If you remembered correctly, you had been told that Samwell Blackwood was a widower.

“Cleared of what?” you asked, confused.

“Of furious encounters.” The man spoke so low you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

You didn’t understand anything and weren’t sure you wanted to.

When you passed between two columns flanking the vestibule, you entered a two-story hallway with a grey marble floor. Above the dark wood paneling covering the white walls hung tapestries; you observed that they were portraits of men and women, some of whom wore clothing from eras before the Conquest. You assumed they were the ancestors of the Blackwood’s.

“Will you take me to your lord?” you asked, stopping to observe each face and story depicted in the wall decorations.

“Lord Samwell is not here; I will take you to my lady, his daughter, Lady Alysanne,” he replied indifferently.

Ah, so it was the eldest Blackwood daughter who had taken charge of the house. This didn’t lessen your apprehension; on the contrary, it heightened your fear of what might happen.

The servant opened large doors and ushered you in as if you were a prisoner about to receive your sentence. The first thing your eyes caught was the silhouette of a woman with beautiful black curls, standing by a window where sunlight streamed in.

The Blackwood’s, like the Bracken’s, shared similar characteristics among them, or so you’d been told. The only thing that indicated you were in front of Lady Alysanne Blackwood was her fine clothes and the direct, unwavering gaze that scrutinized you mercilessly.

In that context, you felt like a true criminal.

You made a small curtsy, barely bowing.

“Welcome,” she said in a tone so cold and indifferent it made you feel like an insignificant insect.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice quieter than you expected.

The silence that followed was terrible and suffocating, a space where you both observed each other, trying to decipher the other.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Alysanne finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You glanced at your maid, who looked just as uncomfortable as you did.

“Will I be able to see Lord Davos? Could you take me to him?” you asked, hoping to meet your future husband and resolve the situation as soon as possible.

“I cannot do that. When he’s ready to see you, he’ll call for you.”

“Today?” you insisted, clinging to a thread of hope.

“Perhaps not.”

You grimaced, but in reality, the fact that this would only delay the inevitable brought you some relief.

You passed several double doors that likely led to the drawing rooms and dining hall, and finally reached the grand main staircase. Some splashes of color on the white walls made you glance back toward the vestibule. The round stained-glass window above the door cast blue, red, and yellow beams of light on the walls. The window’s glass formed an image: a sable escutcheon with a dead weirwood tree.

The emblem was part of the family crest; once at the top of the staircase, Alysanne led you to the right, down a wide carpeted hallway that had doors only on one side. You understood that these rooms faced the back of the castle. Soon you turned a corner and walked down another corridor that led back to the front of the house. Some doors on either side of the hallway had been left open to let in light. It was evident that the house had numerous rooms and was more extensive than it seemed from the outside. At the end of the hallway, Alysanne stopped in front of a spiral staircase.

“Where does this lead?” you asked.

“To a barely habitable tower with no bed.”

You tensed and waited, but she didn’t move and simply stared at the dark spiral staircase for a few moments. Then, without a word, she turned and led you back down the hallway and into the other. As she passed the door at the far end, she glanced back at you and your maid and put a finger to her lips, indicating that you should remain silent; then she approached the next door, just to the right of the staircase. Alysanne entered the room and opened two windows, allowing a light, fresh breeze to enter. You followed her, feeling a sudden curiosity about the view before you. From your position, the tall hedges you had seen from afar surrounded a vast garden, whose green, well-kept lawn gleamed under the sunlight.

Winding paths crisscrossed the garden, bordered by flower beds overflowing with roses and other vibrant blossoms, an explosion of life and color that stood in stark contrast to the austerity of the house.

“You're less troublesome than I expected,” Alysanne remarked suddenly, pulling you from your reverie. “And you're pretty. If you're clever, you might just survive here.”

The tone of her words unsettled you; you couldn't tell whether they were meant as a compliment or a warning. Should you feel flattered or insulted? Alysanne's words hung in the air as you turned to look at her, searching for some clue in her expression. But her eyes remained fixed on you, scrutinizing, as if trying to decipher your deepest thoughts.

You felt her gaze like a weight, as though she were trying to unearth every one of your secrets, those you wouldn't even dare to confess.

“I’ll take the brunt of Lord Davos’ anger for not placing you where he ordered, but I’d rather not wake him just yet, so try to keep quiet,” she added coolly.

Reality struck in an instant: you weren’t placed in this part of the castle out of courtesy or jest. Alysanne had made this decision deliberately, without explanation. A shiver of dread ran through you as you realized you were much closer to Davos than you had anticipated.

“Please, I’d prefer a room farther from his, even one in that tower,” you said, trying to stay calm despite the rising panic inside you.

Alysanne smiled, and though it appeared kind, there was something in her expression that told you Lord Davos' anger didn’t concern her as much as she had implied moments earlier.

“Nonsense. Most of the rooms up here aren’t regularly cleaned unless they’re occupied by guests. This is the only vacant room that’s clean and doesn’t have a permanent ‘Do Not Use’ sign hanging on the door.”

Her response left you stunned. You had been so focused on your own anxiety that you hadn’t even noticed whether there were signs on the doors in the hallway.

“Why is Lord Davos sleeping at this time of day?” you asked, trying to mask your nerves with curiosity.

“I’d be surprised if he were,” Alysanne replied, already heading for the door. Without pausing, she added, “I’ll have your trunks brought up.”

The door closed with a swift bang, leaving you alone in the room. You had barely had time to thank her, and now you found yourself lost in unsettling thoughts. Was Davos as ill-tempered as your brothers? Should you move cautiously, making sure not to disturb his rest? A cold sweat trickled down your back as your gaze settled on a second door, barely visible in the dim light of the room.

That door connected directly to Lord Davos' room, a possibility that morphed into a series of alarming thoughts in your mind. What if the man decided to enter while you were sleeping, without warning? The idea that he might pounce on you in the middle of the night took root in your mind, filling you with growing unease.

You were trapped in a strange place, in a house you barely knew, with a man on the other side of the door who, for all you knew, could be a true monster.

Maybe it would be better to tie yourself to that rock and throw yourself into the sea…

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[witchybitchycrybaby]

Fuck me yourself, you coward

Davos Blackwood x Aeron Bracken

Warnings: none I can think of

Summary: you know how one person says "fuck you" and the other responds with "fuck me yourself, you coward"? Yep, that's it.

Words: 1k

I feel so normal about them

✨✨✨

The sun was beginning to set over the meadow at the boundary of House Blackwood and House Bracken lands, its golden rays casting shadows over the trees.

Some time ago, Davos Blackwood and Aeron Bracken had agreed to a truce. They thought it a good idea, especially since they wanted to practice their swordsmanship together before they both were knighted. These moments of peace never lasted for long, however.

The boys stood facing each other, swords drawn, the practice long forgotten as it turned into one of their usual arguments.

"We're better hunters, Blackwood," Aeron snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. "If your traps are empty, it’s because you don’t know how to set them right."

"Better hunters, my ass," Davos retorted, gripping the hilt of his sword harder until his knuckles turned white. "I’ve seen your men stumble around the woods like blind fools. Probably can’t tell a deer from a tree."

They circled each other, their words as sharp as the blades they wielded. This wasn't the first time the sword practice had turned into a verbal sparring match, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Of this they were sure.

"At least we don't come here at night to move the boundary stones. You lot must really like our Blackwood land." Davos was fuming, his voice rising dangerously.

"Your Blackwood land?" Aeron repeated in disbelief. "The stones are exactly where they should be. Maybe on top of not knowing how to set traps, you don't know how to measure properly. How you manage to keep your land is a big mystery to me." Aaron rolled his eyes and Davos saw red.

"You arrogant piece of- fuck you, Bracken!" He yelled.

Aeron, not really thinking about what he was saying, blurted out, "Fuck me yourself, you coward!"

Both boys instantly froze, the deafening silence settling between them. They could only stare and blink at each other helplessly, wide-eyed and speechless. Aeron's face drained of color for a split second before a furious crimson blush crept up his neck, spreading like wildfire. He could feel the heat even on the tips of his ears. His anger quickly drained out of him, giving place to embarrassment.

Davos, on the other hand, looked like he had just gotten the biggest treat of his existence. His lips slowly stretched into a smirk, and a mischievous glint lit up his eyes. "What was that, Bracken?"

"I-I didn't mean it like that," Aeron stammered, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He was almost sure that the other boy could hear it too. "It was just-"

He stopped abruptly when Davos started to step closer and closer. "Oh really? Because it sure as hell sounded like an invitation to me."

Aeron took a step back, and another, somewhere along the way he dropped his sword into the grass. His breath hitched in his throat as he put his hands in front of him in a miserable attempt to stop the other boy. "I was angry! I wasn't thinking!"

But Davos only continued to close the distance between them, acting as if he didn't hear Aeron's pleas.

"No need to explain. I'm happy to oblige."

Finally, Aeron's back hit the tree, and he was trapped, unable to put some distance between him and Davos. Something in the brunet's eyes told him, that even if he ran, he would be right behind him, not letting him off the hook.

"Stop it, Blackwood. This isn't funny."

But Davos reached out, placing his hand on the tree right beside Aeron's face, trapping him in a cage. He leaned in some more, so that their faces were mere inches apart, and said in low, teasing voice, "Who's laughing?"

Aeron's heart raced. He could feel the heat radiating from the other boy's body, and his warm breath fanning his face. Aaron squeezed the bark behind his back as hard as he could. If it weren't for the support of the tree, his knees would have given out long ago.

"D-Davos, I..."

"Yes, Aeron?" He whispered.

Aeron wanted to push Davos away. He wanted to grip his hands on his tunic and just shove him off. He would storm off, not even once glancing back at the Blackwood. But his body refused to leave; worse even, he found himself leaning in slightly, drawn to the dark-haired boy. There was this pull that no matter how much he tried, he couldn't explain.

The smirk on Davos' face turned into a satisfied smile. "That's what I thought," he said and, without a second to lose, he captured Aeron's soft lips with his own.

Aeron's eyes widened in pure shock. Instead of pulling away, he found himself responding to the kiss. He moved his lips tentatively against Davos', and the boy hummed in contentment.

The kiss was a collision of teeth more than a loving embrace. It was raw and unrefined, their tongues tangling in a wild dance. They both were sure that it would leave them bruised and wanting even more of the fiery burn.

When Davos finally pulled back, his lips red, Aeron was breathless and blushing even more furiously than earlier. "That... That wasn't what I meant," he whispered weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sure thing," Davos said with a wink. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Bracken."

His hand moved to gently cup Aeron's cheek, his skin almost burning him. Aeron shuddered under his touch, accepting the fact that there was a part of him that wanted this and so much more. That despite the animosity between their families, he had been yearning for this one Blackwood.

"You know," started Davos, his eyes following his fingers caressing Aeron's cheek. "I have a feeling that this is just the beginning."

And Aeron could feel it too. His Blackwood would make sure of it.

[pixiecactus]

i may be talking shit with this, but i remember grrm talking about the important connection that noble houses had to their animal sigils but i can't find anything about it other than research papers written about the theme, so please take this with a grain of salt.

so okay... most noble houses have an animal sigil that represents them, we are shown that some members of those houses feel a stronger connection to their respective animal. we currently know that three of the stark children are skinchangers (i don't remember well if we got a confirmation of rickon's abilities, but i don't see why he wouldn't be one too)

well guess who also has a strong connection with an animal and its symbolism, even if he isn't from a noble house (we could discuss semantics in this one, but this isn't what this post is about) yeah, is best boi gendry, look i get the poetic tragedy (?) that's thinking how house baratheon started with a bastard and then after the war of the five kings all of what remains of this house is robert's bastards... but for me the role of the baratheon brothers in the war, in the most shallow way possible i can think of, is the author saying something something about the male ego.

but if we get a baratheon restoration in the next books (which i don't think it will happen) i don’t understand why that obligation would fall under gendry’s shoulders other than he’s the bastard of robert that we know most of. gendry does not hold any love for noble houses and nobles as a whole (with a known exception) meanwhile we know one of robert’s bastards whereabouts, hiding and staying safe in lys and edric storm is a acknowledged bastard (we only have two of them, mya stone and edric himself) and it’s been said that edric's character could be described as courteous, charming, proud and fierce, davos (known baratheon simp) compares this boy to a mix of robert and renly both. edric is proud of his baratheon heritage, gendry doesn’t even know about said heritage and i don’t think it will please him when he finds out about it.

i wrote all of that to say, gendry is not a baratheon (again semantics), probably never will be, he was an armourer’s apprentice and a no name bastard, he is an outlaw knight now but a knight nonetheless, he could make heraldry to wear of his own. and we know he adopted an animal symbol of his own way before the possibility of knighthood was even a thing for him.

gendry being a bull and not a stag, it’s what makes this quote so dear to me with it’s possible gendrya foreshadowing: 

"Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man." 

the quote is talking about nymeria, the direwolf that even when arya lost from her side, is still connected to her very own being as a stark, with a direwolf sigil as heraldry. and what is an aurochs? the aurochs is considered the wild ancestry of modern domestic cattle, which animal is part of this modern domestic cattle we know today? yeah, bulls.

tldr: in my opinion book!gendry and i can only talk about his book counterpart (because is the only one i like) is a bull and probably will never be a stag.

[maisiestyle]

"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

Arya is a mix of both her parents. But as her story unfolds, with every new chapter and book, Arya has moved beyond her parents and into a far more dynamic character.

Ned was a role model to Arya, she loved him more than almost anyone (she loves Jon most of all). She holds on to Ned's memory now more than any of his children.

Ned is stubborn, quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and deeply devoted to his family to the point where he sacrificed his honor and died for his children.

Both Arya & Ned had a dislike for Southern culture. Which is double odd considering Ned was fostered in the South: That was never truly his place. Whereas Cat and Sansa are very much creatures made for the South.

Treatment of the smallfolk and not judging those lower than their station... That says a lot about their character, something Ned, Lyanna, Arya & Jon have all shown in the books.

Arya & Ned are similar but different as well. Where Ned was lacking, his ability to not see the truth in the lies around him - Arya has developed beyond that point. Ned was too slow and unyielding until it was too late and he died. Cat was to heedless, prideful, and emotional - that cost her life. At the beginning Arya was a mix of both her parents BUT her journey so far has made her grow and develop where her parents had not. By Book 5, Arya is extremely artful and considerate, patient and willing to face the truth in all its ugliness, adaptable and fluid like water - a changeling. That's how she'll survive where her parents did not.

While Sansa is learning how to flirt, organise a glorified party and remain passive and isolated.

Arya lives out in the open, has escaped death and captivity by her own wits, travelled all over Westeros leaving her memory imprinted on the people she met along the way, and her unyielding desire to never be helpless again which brought her to Braavos. The Sealord of Braavos stood up to a King and his dragons and won - all he did was whisper the "faceless men" and King's Landing yielded - that is true power. Arya will return to Westeros having grown in many ways. But like her father and mother, her family will always be her guiding light.

I love how the Northmen constantly connect Arya to Ned and want to fight for them both:

When White Harbour (a place Arya has visited twice with Ned) hears of "Arya Stark" marrying Ramsay.

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - (Davos, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

As "Arya" suffers in Winterfell, they connect her to Ned:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ...

"Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears.

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? […] Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - (Reek, A Dance with Dragons)

[…]

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take [Winterfell] for Ned and for his daughter.” - (The Sacrifice, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - (Dance with Dragons)

[jackoshadows]

In the books:

White Harbor

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - Davos, ADwD

Winterfell:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ... "Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears. - The Turncloak, ADwD

The Boltons about the Northmen marching with Stannis:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - - Reek, ADwD

The northmen marching with Stannis:

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - The King's Prize, ADwD

Stannis to Lord Commander Jon Snow:

… more northmen coming in as word spreads of our victory. Fisherfolk, freeriders, hillmen, crofters from the deep of the wolfswood and villagers who fled their homes along the stony shore to escape the ironmen, survivors from the battle outside the gates of Winterfell, men once sworn to the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, and the Tallharts. We are five thousand strong as I write, our numbers swelling every day. And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return. - Jon, ADwD

Lord Commander Jon Snow on the Wall:

"He's to marry Arya Stark. My little sister." Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton's bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she'll fight him. "Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …" By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily. - Jon, ADwD

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … "I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said.

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

Stannis sending Arya to Jon Snow for a debt owed

"Oh, and take the Stark girl with you. Deliver her to Lord Commander Snow on your way to Eastwatch." Stannis tapped the parchment that lay before him. "A true king pays his debts." Pay it, aye, thought Theon. Pay it with false coin. Jon Snow would see through the imposter at once. Lord Stark's sullen bastard had known Jeyne Poole, and he had always been fond of his little half-sister Arya. - Theon, TWoW

Even the traitors Karstark pretending like the others:

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take (Winterfell) for the Ned and for his daughter.” - The Sacrifice, ADwD

Us reading A Dance for Dragons: The North is marching for Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Ned Stark. Arya Stark is a pivotal character, a Key to the North around whom the North plot revolves. Various Northern factions are uniting behind her, the Lord Commander broke several oaths of neutrality and died trying to save her, two kings tried to save her.

Sansa stans/Jonsa shippers:

They hate it so much that the North plot revolves around Arya that the only thing they can do again and again is gaslight the fandom with this false equivalence that talking about Arya's importance to the North is making light of Jeyne's rape and abuse.

Also, Ramsay marries Arya Stark to give legitimacy to his stake over the North as Lord of Winterfell. Which is why Manderly wants Rickon because his claim supersedes Arya's. These morons pretending that discussing this plot is an insult to Arya while they hand over all of Arya's book themes, characterization and relationships to their fave is hilarious.

Like every other day there is a post of how Sansa is the MOST IMPORTANT because EVERYONE WANTS TO MARRY HER and she is the ONLY KEY TO THE NORTH - because the Lannisters, Tyrells and LF are all plotting to marry her off etc. The whole Jonsa shite is about Sansa deigning to make the poor bastard Jon legitimate by marrying him etc. Their world revolves around Sansa's marriage. But apparently discussing how Arya's marriage to Ramsay to hold the North is driving the Northern plot is insulting to Arya's character 🤣

When even the author has given all these interviews pointing out that replacing Jeyne with Sansa on the TV show changed the entire story because 'Fake Arya' is essential to what is happening in the North, these stans can only regurgitate this tired old nonsense and attack book readers for discussing what is actually in the books instead of making up headcanons on how their unqualified fave is the only candidate to be QITN

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

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

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

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

CHAPTER 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John stops walking to look at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes.. John answers uncomfortably.

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

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

“Fuck off.” he huffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” you ask. 

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

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

“That was you?” Sansa says she nods. 

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

Sansa nods, taking a moment before speaking again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not.” yin speaks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

—-----

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

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

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

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

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

You nod before answering. 

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

“The cold is refreshing.” she says happily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

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[lady-dragon-rider]

The Bloody Raven and the Mad Witch. Pt.1

Davos/Benjicot Blackwood x Reader

When a trail ride goes wrong Reader finds that they have stumbled into the worst world possible. The universe of ASoIaF.

///

The young Raventree heir stumbles upon a crazy lady in the heart of their godswood while out on patrol.

Cotains: Bookworm!Reader, Realm travel/Isekai (outlander style), 'witchy' powers, cannon divergence, superstitious men.

Featuring: protective birb friends (ravens become fond of Reader), theatre kid!Reader

---

You dont remember how you ended up in this situation. How a simple trail ride, on a horse who youve had since childhood and has never once dropped you, go so wrong?

It was a trail you had taken thousands of times before, just outside your grandparents farm. Both of you knew it like the back of your hand. And even though it had rained a little the night before you were more than confidence in you and Roach - your horse. "Itll be fine grandma, thr rain wasnt that heavy and its more than dry now" you assured the older lady, gripping her hands tightly in comfort "ill be back before you know it."

But that was before your dear equine friend unknowingly stepped on loose earth, soft from the previous wet weather. Roach had stumbled, and paniced a little, but had ultimately recovered from the incident. You however, werent quick enough. You barely miss the reigns as you fall in what feels like slow motion.

You tumble down the slope, rocks and branches snagging themselves on your clothes and skin. Bright light bursts behind your eyelids as make heavy contact with a tree which knocks the wind out of you. When you finally stop rolling, huff out heaved gasps and mentally take stock.

No broken bones... at least, that i can tell... but everything seriously hurts.... im just gonna lay here for a bit...

"Oi... is that a girl?" You hear shifting and shuffling from out in the darkness where you lay.

Crap.

The shuffling gets closer and you can hear the voice of three, maybe four boys. "Yeah thats definitely a girl! She seems badly injured, quickly, check if shes alive!" One of the boys, you assume their leader, command. A hurried pair of steps approaches you. You bite back a groan as he turns you over, keeping your eyes closed as you stayed as limp and still as possible.

Fingers feel around your throat for a pulse. Which, given that you are very much still alove and breathing, the young man finds almost instantly.

"She's Alive Benji! What do you want to do? Wont we get in trouble if we tried to bring her back to Raventree?"

Wait.... Benji? Raventree?... Oh no... that would mean im in the universe of a song of ice and fire! Crap thats not good, but its fine youve read the books you know what will happen... maybe we can can use this to our advantage.. you think. A thousand different options running through you head.

"Well we cant leave her here either. Not only is it getting dark, she was found in our godswood and needs to be sharply questioned as to who she is." Benji says in a cool tone, getting onto his horse. "She will ride with me. To ensure no funny business, now lets go"

The guy beside you nods and lifts you up, causing pain to shoot through your aching limbs. You hiss and groan as you are jostled and manhandled unto Benjicots mount; a beautiful dark brown horse. Try as you might to move your body does not seem to listen. Leaving you in the arms of your Blackwood captor. "Behave miss, and i promise no harm shall come to you."

You mumble incoherently as pain and fatigue take your muscles into the world of dreams.

---

The next time you wake up is upon your arrival at Raventree. You dont remember much of the ride, but the ache in your muscle's has certainly lessened. You're eased off the horse and then immediately bound and lead to where you assume the main hall area is.

"You dont have to be so rough you know, its not like i can fight or anything..." you grumble loudly, gaining the stink-eye from a couple of the surrounding men. The double doors open and before you is a lavish grand hall, two long tables line the east and west wall and an even grander one stands at the head of the room. At the head table several older men are sat, grim looks dorne their faces. You are able to take in much else as your roughly shoved before them, tripping and just barely managing to catch yourself. You turn and glare at the one who did it, and he seemingly flinches under your white hot gaze.

"Benjicot. What is the meaning on this? Who is this girl and why is she here? And in a state like this no less, i sincerely hope this wasnt any of your doing" a bearded man murmurs, a scolding tone on his lips

"Of course not Uncle. The boy and i were pratolling near the godwood when we heard some shuffling in the undergrowth followed by some sort of light. We thought it may have been some Brackens trying to hurt the godswood but discovered her instead" He explains as he motions to you "it looked like she had attacked or something and thought it would be best to bring her here for questioning."

Another man, more closely resembling benjicot give you an appraising look "Step forward girl. Let me look at you"

"A please would be nice" you hiss as you do as your told. Stepping forward and giving a slow spin to give him a full look. "I can assure you. I am no Bracken. I am a nobody."

"Then what were you doing in our woods?"

You straighten at the tension that fills the room with that single sentence. You cant very well tell them the truth, they would think you crazy and cut your head off or something. So, in times of crisis you know to do one thing; improvise. "Collecting herbs, but you son was right, i was attacked. I ended up dropping my things in my haste to get away and ended up in your... 'godswood'" you say feigning innocence.

"My lords, may i remind you that witches and other such characters would be the only one lurking around the woods at night." A greying man says knowingly "we should turn this wench away lest we call ill omens upon our house"

"I would advise against that my lords" you counter quickly "that may have the opposite affect. And while im not in the habit of curse the family that has helped me, that may be the case if you turn me away after your dear son has travelled all this way to see my wounds are tended to"

"Is that a threat witch?!" The elderly man shouts now standing and slaming his hand on the table "i will have your head"

"The opposite my lords." You snap "i only wish to be of use to the young lord who helped me. And if i my be emboldened to ask you a few questions, it would appear that the fright from me attack has rendered me a little dazed." You bat your eyelashes and the faces of whom you recognise as Benjicot's father and uncle seem to soften.

"What would you wish to know child" Samwell asked calmly

"There isnt a subtle way to say this.... but isthe king dead yet?" You say. Commotion erupts almost immediately.

"How dare you!-"

"To spew such treason!"

"Take her head she is cursing the king!"

"SLIENCE!" Samwell shouted "Girl. Explain. NOW"

"Fire licks that heels of familys green and black, and soon the drums a war will beat a tune that makes the dragons dance." You say vaugely "to put simply, everything will change and your family and all you love will burn. I wish to prevent that, to honor the service your son has brought upon me" you glance at benjicot.

A beat of silence before Samwell answers "Yes, he still lives as i am aware. But his health has declined in recent months..." he says grimly.

A relieved smile comes across your face.

"Good...that means i may be able to stop this.... if youll excuse me" you say, before you bolt out of the room.

You do your best to pay no mind to the men clamour as they begin to chase after you.

Now where is it....

Frantic, you search for your prey - the weirdwood tree. "Come on.... come onnn... There!" At breakneck speed you rush to the tree placing your hands on it you rant quietly. "Please. You know im not from here, you brought me here for a reason please let it be this. Use me as your vessel, i am an empty cup with no ties to this world. Let me protect the young dragons and keep the peace and balance. Please if youre real and can hear me... please dont make me look stupid for doing this before i die."

"There! Stop her!"

Panic and fear grip you as you desperately plea for something to happen. Suddenly, a strange powerful surge of energy course through your veins making the hairs on the back of neck stand up. You then find yourself in darkness.

Several scenes wisk past you, Rhaenyra at Dragonstone; alone at the painted table on the verge of falling asleep. Helaena by the windowsill of the childrens quarters at kings landing; embroidering and looking somber. Aegon in his bedchambers drinking to drown another day away. And little prince luke, tossing and turning in a fevered sweat.

Your mind wanders to Aegon, how he doesnt want to be king, and how this night will be the last he has before it all goes to shit. Youre then in the room with him. It startles him, having a random woman appear before him his half empty cup hits the floor as he stands "wha- who are you?! How did you get in here?!"

"Sshhhh my prince please, im at your mercy! Im only hear as a messager. I need you to listen my beloved prince" you plead, surging forward and and taking his hands gently in yours "something terrible will happen this night. Your father will succumb to his sickness and pass away in his sleep."

"What...? He will..." the revelation seems to knock the wind out of his sails and he sits back down. His hands tremble as they grab back at yours "how do you know? Why are you telling me this?" His voice breaks

"Because. I know you, and know you do not wish to be king. Your mother will have you crowned in the next coming days after his passing, claiming that he whispered your name before he passed. But it is a lie, she misheard him as he lay dreaming within his sleep." You say fudging the truth just a little "if you truly have no wish for the throne. Take your children. Take your wife, and fly swiftly to your sister at dragonstone and bend the knee. She would never harm you, you are her blood."

"But my mother said-"

"She is a mother and will always worrt about her childrens well-being. But she has been manipulated by people who wish to year your family apart. I promise i will explain everything when we meet. There is not enough time to explain it here" you reason, moving your hand to place it on this his cheek. He leans into your touch before you stand and back away. "Go swiftly my sweet prince"

"Please tell me your name!" He cries

"(Name)"

The scene changes and you stand before Helaena, who unlike Aegon is not surpirsed by your presence. "Aegon is coming to collect you. I can assume you know why?"

"Hand turns loom; spool of green spool of black, dragon of flesh weave dragons of thread" she says knowingly. You nod.

"I wish to save you from the fallout of what may happen. You will be happier not being queen." She acknowledges you with a slight smile. "Dear Helaena, prepare the children. We shall meet soon."

By the third change you begin to get the hang of the power, gliding with the flow of power rather than forcing it. A hand on the black queens shoulder startles her awake. But you silence her.

"Something terrible will happen this night my queen, your father will pass tonight due to his illness and in his wife Alicent will try and crown Aegon as king."

"What?!" She says standing and stumbling as the chair hits the floor. Her breathing become panicked as she stares at you with wild eyes "who are you, how are you here and why are you telling me this?!" She stresses anger flaring her nostrils "tell me now!"

"I am but a servant of your my queen. Here to warn. To help. I wish to see you take your rightful place. I have taken steps to bring Aegon and Helaena to you along with their children. They will swear to you and help protect your claim" you soothe, falling to your knees and staring at her. "Aegon does not wish to be king. He will be here on the morrow i swear it."

"And if he is not?" She asks, calm be very clearly skeptical

"Then my name is (Name) and i am at Raventree Hall. You can come collect my head for this slander, and i shall expect the punishment with gladness." You say with confidence "and one more thing, if Aegon does not make it and does become king. Ravens are safer than Dragons. And a mother should always protect her brood. For children alway suffer the worst in war."

This time when the scene changes, you are back in darkness. It begins to morph into a dream, and into a scene you are all to familiar with; the night Aemond lost his eye.

Oh Luke... you must feel terrible about it....

A whimper seems to cut through the screaming and the blood. You walk through the dreamscape, the people swirling and rippling like water as you pass them. You come to Luke, curled into a corner and holding his knees.

"He attacked Baela and Rhaena, he was gonna hurt Jace... i didnt have a choice.... im sorry i didnt want to hurt anyone..." he says softly

"My dear little prince" you say sweetly, crouching next to him.

"Wha-"

"You are in control of this dream. If this is something you do not wish to see. Then there is only one thing to do, simply change it." You grab his hand and get him to stand. "What do you want this dream to be hmm?"

The young prince concentrates and the the room dissolves. It reforms and you see two young boys and sitting on chairs and a man, Laenor, tells them stories while he was at sea. Luke seems to brighten and relax. He looks at you with awe and wonder "who are you?"

"A friend." You smile "however my young prince i do wish to warn you, moreover advise you, a storm may be approaching. And if your tasked with flying your dragon into it, feel no shame if you wish to turn tail and run. Green is an ugly colour of jealousy and envy. Such monsters are the most dangerous when provoked."

"What do you mean?"

"If your mum sends you to storms end my dear princeling.... and if vhagar is there... i wish for you to return. And i can assure you your mother will not be mad." You ruffle his head and stand straight. "But enough of omens and ill tidings. Sleep is for good dreams. Be well, and we shall meet soon"

--- Meanwhile at Raventree ---

"Stop her!"

Gaurds rushed to the sacred weirwood tree, ready to strike and kill the witch that had dared spew foul lies and lay defiled hands on their precious totem. But before they could get close a wild wind all by blew them back.

The leaves rustled beneath their feet as it whipped around the base of the tree and around the girl, who was now laying prone; eyes a milky eyes.

"What is she doing?! She must be casting a spell of some kind! Kill her now before she uses her power to destory the tree!" Someone shouts.

A brave or maybe stupid knight take the plunge. Cautious in his approach, unsure if this helpless form was just a ruse. He raises his sword to strike. But a flurry of feathers beats him to the punch. Several of the ravens, who at this point had remained still, had swooped to attack him. The surprise sends him sprawling to the ground, sword forgotten. Another select few gently perch themselves around and on her, feathers puffed up in threatening gestures as they caw angrily.

"Father... ive never seen them act like this... what is happening?" Benjicot mumbles concern etched into his tone, however his gaze did not move from the scene to see his fathers reaction.

"Maybe this is a sign of new beginnings, maybe this apparant 'witch' you have found my dear boy will be of some help after all..."

"I dont know what this means.... but she must somehow be connected to the old gods, to have had such a reaction touching our tree... especially in the state that it is in..." wonder and curiosity filled him. Ever since the great tree had been poisoned by the cursed Brackens, it had filled the hall with a somber air whenever the Blackwood house would look upon it.

"Father...?"

"Until she awakens none are to disturb her ritual, this is no spell, but a clear sign that the gods put faith in her, that she may heal our tree and our connection to them" Samwell adresses the crowd.

"But my lord, how do you know?" A vassal questions.

"Our tree was poisoned by the Brackens. No leaves have grown on it is years and it has begun to rot. And yet it has drawn her to it, not only this but the ravens sense this connection. They are protecting her. Against us. How can that not be a sign that she is meant to be here. Connected to this tree." He say sternly.

The courtyard falls into silence as they stare at the ravens, cawing protectively over there new friend. A few begin preening the leaves out of her hair. They coo softly.

"When she awakens she will be taken to a guest room and will be provided for. She will also be questioned about what she has seen. Pray to the gods that she is will bless us with good news."

The crowd begins to dispurse but Benji seems to linger. Why had he been so adamant in bringing her here? They still did not know her name or house or why she had been in the godswood in the first place.

Just who was this mad witch?

[agentrouka-blog]

Do you think that the Dance is also meant to be a foreshadowing for the books like D vs fA or Jon? Because I feel like with how the story is centered to the Starks, whoever gains their support (obv Jon if he joins 😂) will win and we get to have a second hour of the wolf

Let's put it this way: The main novel series is the point, and the Dance of Dragons is a result of its existence, it is fictional historical backstory that is meant to inform, illustrate and foreshadow the events of the main series.

The first book of the main novel series was published in 1996. It already contained references to the Dance of the Dragons, and they reappear sprinkled through the series, increasing in detail and relevance.

What is interesting is that the thing most emphasized about the Dance in the main series is the intra-family strife. Brother v. sister - and transcribed into the kingsguard: brother against brother, metaphorical and literal.

Bran was going to be a knight himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. [...] Bran knew all the stories. [...] The twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who had died on one another's swords hundreds of years ago, when brother fought sister in the war the singers called the Dance of the Dragons. (AGOT, Bran II)

It's a popular, high-culture piece of music that plays on the multiple perspectives of the historical event.

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the "Dance of the Dragons," Ned inspected the bruise himself. (AGOT, Eddard VII)

A Clash of Kings (1998) contains no reference, though you could consider the entire developing civil war to be an answer to that first reference.

A Storm of Swords (2000) picks it up again in much greater detail.

Stannis - notably having killed his brother over the throne - emphasizes the aspect of treason while discussing the fate of his wife's uncle Alester Florent.

"It has always been so. I am not . . . I am not a cruel man, Ser Davos. You know me. Have known me long. This is not my decree. It has always been so, since Aegon's day and before. Daemon Blackfyre, the brothers Toyne, the Vulture King, Grand Maester Hareth . . . traitors have always paid with their lives . . . even Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was daughter to one king and mother to two more, yet she died a traitor's death for trying to usurp her brother's crown. It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty." (ASOS, Davos IV)

The song makes another appearance at Joffrey's wedding, once again emphasizing that it is a complex story from multiple perspectives. Also setting up the inter-Lannister collapse that has been brewing for a while and explodes with Joffrey's murder.

Collio began with his version of "The Dance of the Dragons," which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female.  (ASOS, Tyrion VIII)

Jaime brings it back around to the kingsguard pseudo-brotherhood, which mirrors the inter-family aspect of the civil war.

The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well? (ASOS, Jaime VIII)

Given the mess that is made of the kingsguard in the coming book in KL and in Dorne... yes, Jaime.

By AFFC (2005) GRRM firmly establishes the Dance as a historical reference for destructive civil war over feuding siblings.

And the songs he chose . . . He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness. (AFFC, Sansa I)

It also turns the focus on Criston Cole as an alleged external engineer of such strife. Interestingly, his arms resemble a ladybug, Targaryen colors but not Targaryen.

"Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best." "The best and the worst." So one of us is like to live in song. "And a few who were a bit of both. Like him." He tapped the page he had been reading. "Who?" Ser Loras craned his head around to see. "Ten black pellets on a scarlet field. I do not know those arms." "They belonged to Criston Cole, who served the first Viserys and the second Aegon." Jaime closed the White Book. "They called him Kingmaker." (AFFC, Jaime II)

Contrasting to Stannis, Arianne uses the Dance as an example of treason from the other side, trying to manipulate kingsguard Arys Oakheart into supporting her coup against her father and brother, even though by Dornish custom her role would more rightly resemble that of Aegon II because she is the legal heir and believes her father to favor second-born Quentyn. Notably, Criston Cole is blamed over all Targaryen's involved. Ridiculous but probably significant.

Ser Criston Cole. Criston the Kingmaker had set brother against sister and divided the Kingsguard against itself, bringing on the terrible war the singers named the Dance of the Dragons. Some claimed he acted from ambition, for Prince Aegon was more tractable than his willful older sister. Others allowed him nobler motives, and argued that he was defending ancient Andal custom. A few whispered that Ser Criston had been Princess Rhaenyra's lover before he took the white and wanted vengeance on the woman who had spurned him. "The Kingmaker wrought grave harm," Ser Arys said, "and gravely did he pay for it, but . . ." (AFFC, The Soiled Knight)

Quite fittingly, Arianne's own little "dance" ends with horror and death and deep regret on her side, while poor Quentyn is busy on the other side of the planet.

Meanwhile, GRRM keeps the subject current in ADWD (2011) after Tyrion joins the entourage of "Young Griff", mixing in a reminder of different perspective on historical events. And some dragonslaying. Clearly, he has compiled a lot of detailed backstory for this civil war by now.

Haldon was unimpressed. "Even Duck knows that tale. Can you tell me the name of the knight who tried the same ploy with Vhagar during the Dance of the Dragons?" Tyrion grinned. "Ser Byron Swann. He was roasted for his trouble … only the dragon was Syrax, not Vhagar." "I fear that you're mistaken. In The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, Maester Munkun writes—" "—that it was Vhagar. Grand Maester Munkun errs. Ser Byron's squire saw his master die, and wrote his daughter of the manner of it. His account says it was Syrax, Rhaenyra's she-dragon, which makes more sense than Munken's version. Swann was the son of a marcher lord, and Storm's End was for Aegon. Vhagar was ridden by Prince Aemond, Aegon's brother. Why should Swann want to slay her?" (ADWD, Tyrion III)

Dragonslaying comes up again in the context of Hazzea and the effects of dragons in general.

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power? Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle's dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

In a telling twist on the name that pulls it directly into the present and likely future, we look at burned Quentyn:

After the girl was gone, the old knight peeled back the coverlet for one last look at Quentyn Martell's face, or what remained of it. So much of the prince's flesh had sloughed away that he could see the skull beneath. His eyes were pools of pus. He should have stayed in Dorne. He should have stayed a frog. Not all men are meant to dance with dragons. (ADWD, The Queen's Hand)

Which echoes again with Arianne in her TWOW sample chapters (2010-ish), which (interestingly) also flesh out her relationship with Daemon Sand, an intentional reference to a prominent character in the dance linked to Rhaenyra.

"Once we know beyond a doubt whether these be friends or foes, my father will know what to do," the princess said. It was then that pasty, pudgy Teora raised her eyes from the creamcakes on her plate. "It is dragons." "Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad." "I'm not. They're coming." "How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?" Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."

Much like with Daenerys, this reference emphasizes the destructive effects of the dragon-based civil war.

Since Arianne's little stint as pseudo-Rhaenyra went nowhere, but the Dance references remain thick and strong, we can likely look at her upcoming connection to Aegon as the point of it all.

Incidentally, GRRM has already set up their future conflict:

Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?' " (ADWD, Tyrion VI)

This places Tyrion into the role of a Cole-figure, hilariously, having pushed Aegon into changing direction to claim the throne directly without Dany.

There's the strife between family members, kingsguards, factions, and manipulative third parties, all over a throne that really isn't worth it, told from multiple perspectives, bringing misery and destruction to the smallfolk.

All the extra material on the Dance of Dragons was published after ADWD, from A World of Ice and Fire (2014) to the novellas (2013-2024) to Fire and Blood (2018), with one small reference to the extinction of the dragons after the Dance in The Mystery Knight (2010). So all this backstory was compiled and built up in the service of of the main story GRRM is telling.

You rightfully bring up Jon, Daenerys and Aegon all together, but it's extremely unlikely that Jon Snow is going to be a driving factor in a Dance of Dragons 2.0 because he will only just find out that he has Targaryen ancestry, and in a way that puts him it in conflict with her Stark ancestry.

No, this war is going to be between two established family members who both have claims and means alongside the ambition to ascend the Iron Throne. Not quite brother v. sister but aunt v. nephew. Tragic, destructive, self-destructive. Much like what the Baratheon brothers have served us before. Only with dragons involved on Dany's side, while Aegon mixes it up by simultaneously representing the Dornish side of the story, through his mother Elia - which is a whole different kettle of fish.

Jon's presence in there is probably going to be a very interesting complicating factor that might go in many different directions, with mirrors to Robb's Will and Stannis' offer of legitimization (another theme in the Dance), to accusations of manipulation and ambition (Criston Cole). The role of the prophecy is also going to be explored in all its myopic self-destructive emptiness.

This won't be a copy of the first Dance, though.

If there is an Hour of the Wolf, it's going to preside not over scarred survivors, but over the ashes and corpses of King's Landing and the Targaryen legacy in Westeros.

[thestoryden]

Tied Together

Aeron Bracken x Davos Blackwood

Word Count: 1.5k

HOTD MASTERLIST / Requests: Open

A/N: I started writing this last night after I saw this piece of fanart by @buben-ustal. I didn't get this ship at first but after seeing the lovely fanart people have made and rewatching the scene, I fell in love the Romeo & Juliet vibes.

Aeron turns over under the sheets. His sweaty skin makes them cling to him. He attempts to fluff his pillow before planting his face directly in to it.

“Seven Hells!” He grumbles, “This is no use.”

He rips the sheets off and gets up from his bed. His shoulder length hair is plastered all over his neck. He grabs a comb from his dresser and begins to pull it to one side. He separates it out in to pieces and then joins them together in a single braid. He can finally fell the breeze against his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief.

He pulls on a plain shirt and a pair of trousers and fastens his sword at his side. His cloak is left behind. He leaves the small castle without a thought only the notion that he must be free from his bed.

He finds himself walking through fields upon fields till he ends up at the boundary stones. In his exhaustion, Aeron sets down his sword next to the stones before collapsing in to the grass. The grass moves in front of him as he huffs.

“What you got there?”

The voice startles him. Aeron turns to see who is speaking to him. The sliver of moonlight does not illuminate much but a round face overshadowed by dark curls.

“It’s my sword.” He replies, “I wouldn’t get any closer. I could run you through you know.”

He is greeted by a deep laugh.

“I’d like to see you try. My name’s Davos, you must be one of the hedge knights that got hired to protect the boundaries.”

Aeron straightens up, “I am no hedge knight!”

“Gods, they sent out a mere squire.” Davos questions, “That’s awful. You’re lucky a Bracken didn’t find you. They would have struck you down with out so much as asking you who you were.”

The pieces start to fall in to place, “So you’re a Blackwood then?” Aeron asks hesitantly.

“Rightly speaking, yes I am,” Davos says as he plops down next to Aeron, “I haven’t won my knighthood quite yet, so we are in the same boat.”

Aeron freezes. Idiot, he thinks, You strolled your stupid self right in to the enemies arms.

Davos opens up his satchel and pulls out some bread and a wax wrapped cheese.

“Bet that knight of yours sent you off without so much as dinner.” He remarks.

Aeron had skipped dinner and his mouth waters as the sight of the loaf in Davos’ hand. He tries to stay silent unsure of what to do next, but his body betrays him. His stomach grumbles and his cheeks heat up at the sound. Davos can see his face turn pink.

“That’s all right.” Davos says as he tears the bread in to, “We can share this, and then head back to the kitchens if its not enough.”

He hands one half to Aeron and does the same with the cheese he sliced in half. Aeron lets the tension go from his body as he accepts the food. He sniffs it.

“Is it poisoned?” Aeron asks with suspicion.

 Davos looks at him and tilts his head, “Now why would I do that?”

“I have heard rumors…” Aeron trails off.

Davos laugh, “Wow. Those Brackens really will say anything about us. No, it isn’t poisoned.”

Aeron relents and finally begins to eat. He pauses at the first bite to see if anything will happen. Davos gives him a playful push.

“If you are that unsure you can swap pieces with me.”

Aeron shakes his head, “That’s quite all right. Thanks for the food, I’m Aeron by the way.”

He makes his way through his halves of the food before he realizes his thirst. He turns to Davos.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

Davos hands him a water skin. Aeron takes a long draft.

“Woah, slow down there.” Davos chides, “You’ll drown if you drink that fast.”

He laughs as he passes the water skin back to Davos.

“I will have you know Davos Blackwood, that I am an excellent swimmer.” Aeron boasts, “You need not worry yourself with my drowning.”

Davos smirks, “Prove it then, I’ll bet you my dagger that you can’t beat me in a race to the mill.”

“Upstream?” Aeron questions.

“What? Don’t think you can handle it, there’s barely any current.” Davos taunts.

Aeron grins, “Oh you’re on!”

They race together to the water’s edge and strip down to their undergarments. Aeron jumps in first the cool water washing over him.

“It’s freezing.” He squeals.

Davos comes in after him, “Gods! You were right it is cold.”

Aeron begins to undo his braid. He runs his fingers through his hair and moves it to the back of his head trying to tie it off. His grasp keeps slipping.

“Hey, Davos,” He asks, “Would you mind tying my hair back.”

Davos looks at him, “What, worried it will slow you down.”

“Whatever, I can beat you at any race.” Aeron snarks back.

Davos waves him off with a laugh, “Come over here I’ll fix it.”

Aeron turns his back to him. Davos brushes his fingers over Aeron’s neck and gently gathers up the hair in to one hand. He ties it off neatly.

“How’s that Aeron?” Davos asks softly.

He reaches back to feel if its secure and accidentally brushes his fingers over Davos hand. Aeron retracts his touch quickly.

“I-It-It will work fine.” He says shakily.

Aeron takes a step away from him. He turns to Davos. The lack of light makes Davos’ eyes black as pitch. Aeron can’t help but look. The way his dark curls frame his face. His lips look soft and they fit his face perfectly. Davos pauses when he catches Aeron’s look. His soft blonde hair reflecting the little moon light there is. Davos averts his gaze.

Davos breaks the silence, “Let’s get on with it, we haven’t got all night.”

Aeron comes back to reality.

“Okay on my mark,” Aeron says, “Ready, set, go!”

They cut through the water. Stoke after stroke getting closer to the windmill. The stream has little pull against them. Davos goes up for air, only to see Aeron a length ahead of him. He makes quick work of the distance between them. When Aeron surfaces, he can see the base of the mill clearly. He pushes himself harder trying to reach it. He resurfaces only to see Davos already at the mill just barely out of reach.

“I freaking did it!” Davos cheers.

Aeron swims up to him and playfully shoves him, “Alright, so you’re a better swimmer, so what.”

“So, I won! Which means…” He draws off, “I get to keep my dagger…Wait you didn’t even bet anything.”

“Well, I didn’t really have anything to bet. Besides my sword…would you perhaps want something else…” Aeron pauses.

“What about,” Davos breathes, “A kiss?”

Aeron stands shocked, “A kiss?”

“Yeah, it’s meaningful, and something you can give away.” Davos replies.

Aeron fumbles, “I mean, I guess it works…I just hadn’t thought about it.”

Davos approaches him and reaches out to pull him in. He sets his hands on Aeron’s waist. He closes his eyes. Aeron cups Davos’ face in his hands and brings him in closer. Aeron shuts his eyes and moves in pressing his lips to Davos’. He misses a little bit and only feels Davos top lip. With a small laugh Aeron works his way down till he can feel more of Davos’ mouth. He presses in and Davos parts his lips in response. He drags his tongue across Aeron’s sealed lips. Aeron pulls back flustered.

Davos flickers his eyes open, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Aeron replies, “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Davos tilts his head to the side, “You’ve never kissed anyone before?”

“Well, now I have!” Aeron pitches back, “And I don’t know what all the fuss what about!”

Davos sets his hand gently against Aeron’s burning cheek, “Close your eyes, and I’ll show you what all the fuss is about.”

“Okay, but I doubt it will change my mind.”

Aeron squeezes his eyes shut. Davos pulls him in close so that Aeron can feel his warmth. Davos gently places his lips to Aeron’s. He moves slowly. Pulling back before kissing Aeron’s jaw and then his neck before biting down gently on his collar bone. Davos comes back to Aeron’s lips and kisses them softly. Aeron parts his lip tasting Davos’ kiss. Davos pulls back.

“Does that change your mind?” Davos teases.

Aeron smiles, a bit dazed, “Something like that.”

Davos splashes him with water, “Come on sleepy head come back to the world of the living.”

“We should do this again sometime,” Aeron laughs, splashing him back.

The haul themselves out of the water to dry off. Aeron lays his head against Davos’ folded legs.

Aeron sighs, “I could do this all night.”

“Do what?” Davos asks with a half grin. “Be with you.” He replies softly.

[ser-zoras]

asoiaf predictions that will probably make people mad

sansa politically marries that guy whatshisface. kills littlefinger in self defense either via moon door or very fancy knife, possibly also poison. declares her husband regent of the vale in littlefinger's absence, and quickly allies herself with daenerys as dany pushes west. they fall in love, the embodiment of ice and fire.

brienne doesn't kill jaime bc honestly where would that leave the rest of us. anyway. they probs talk their way out of fighting lady stoneheart and either jaime dies fighting the others, leaving brienne to hedge knight her way around in his honor, or they disappear into the riverlands, never to be heard from again.

if any of the key five die (again), it's gonna be dany, but not in a mad queen way, but in self-sacrifice against the others after her conquest of westeros, which started with dragonstone. thematically implies that the reason daenys had that vision in the first place was so that the targaryens would continue on and produce dany in order to save the world. somehow the destruction of the iron throne will factor in, having served its distorted purpose in keeping the targaryen line alive long enough to create daenerys. this either kills drogon or sends him off toward the sunset sea.

dragonrider bran. either he or jon will rule westeros, don't know which.

speaking of jon, he's going to Come Back Wrong somehow. I think it'll be a targaryen-related way, but he's gonna eventually come around with his stark heritage. if he doesn't end up king of the seven kingdoms, he'll be king beyond the wall.

i don't know what's going to happen to arya. i think she'll surprise me, but i'm certain she's not gonna be lady of winterfell. i think that contradicts too much of her personal convictions about her purpose in life.

contrary to popular belief, i think there's only a 50/50 chance tyrion's gonna be a dragonrider. he's going to come over with dany but he will either choose to return to essos, searching for tysha or possibly accepting the reality of her death, or he'll stay on in westeros as jon's hand of the king. either way, penny will be a significant deciding factor.

stannis kills davos. not as a murder plot, but it's gonna be like. a whole thing.

missandei is protected and cared for and she writes a history of dany's brief reign as an adult(manifesting) and rickon is undeniably Odd now but he's going to be okay and somehow ends up the most normal brother. absolute tourney knight of a fellow (manifesting).

and last but not least, cersei is not killed by either of her brothers, although i think there's a slim chance she kills jaime, which triggers her death. she will be killed by one of her own plots, probably one related to wildfire, but being cersei, she will internalize it as a death by tyrion's hand.