#the bracken lads

[justdavronthings]

[littlelord]

YYEEAAHHH BABY it’s the Blackwoods vs. the Brackens next ep oh how i live for their beef

[divinesolas]

Fighting words

summary: one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.

Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Cerwyn!reader | 1.3k wrds

c.w: probably very occ as we dont know like anything abt him in the show 😭😭, slightly smutty, takes place before any battles, not proofread

he wouldn’t leave my mind, so take this 😁

masterlist - requests are open!!

tags: @hxtd

“No. Leave me alone bracken.” you try to shove him away from you but the bracken boy just grins at you and leans closer into you.

“Oh come on cerwyn, i see how you look at me~” a scoff escapes your lips as you stare at him with disgust. “In your fucking dreams, seriously. Leave me alone.”

You didn’t even know this guys name but he had been bothering you for the last couple days. It had started out small with him trying to invite you to come drink with him and his friends to him offering to carry around your stuff for you when you were walking around.

“theyre arrows bracken.”

“so what? must be heavy for you youre a girl.”

He grossed you out. But didn’t matter even if he didn’t,

“she said no.”

The two of you turn to look at the new voice and a smile creeps up on your face. The bracken boy rolls his eyes as he glares, “the hell do you want blackwood.”

“she said no. Back off.”

youve been friends with the lord of house blackwood for since you were younger and hes always been so kind to you. It seemed to be obvious to everyone other than him that you were madly in love with the young lord but if he did notice he said nothing about it.

You knew of his, angry? or maybe a better word is his more aggressive behavior. You had never even seen it first hand but multiple people have told you first hand accounts of him losing his temper and blowing up, his normal calm and kind demeanor getting lost to rage and blind madness.

You did not know what to think about the rumors then but seeing the way his eyes twitched and his clenched jaw as he stared at the bracken boy the rumors about him became more and more believable.

The bracken boy stands and gets all up in bens face, “What are you gonna do about it huh?”

Ben tilts his head and a look you’ve never seen crosses his eyes as he glares. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” His voice is hard like youve never heard before and it has you holding your breath, waiting for the straining thread to snap.

And the thread snaps the second bracken pushes bens chest and laughs. “what? you upset this ugly bitch wants me more than you-“ It happens before you know it and suddenly the two guys are on the floor and everyone in the room jumps up to look.

you freeze. What in the hells are you supposed to do? so you merely watch as the two boys beat the fuck out of each other. Ben pulls ahead at some point and manages to get a few more punches in after pinning the guy down until the two are pulled apart.

“never talk about her like that, no. never talk to her again or else ill fucking kill you.” He thrashes around in the arms of the two blackwood lads that hold him back as he continues to spit insults at the bracken boy as he gets dragged off and out of the space.

Your legs move before you can even think and your standing in front of him, he freezes and blinks at you rapidly. Hes covered in blood, you cant tell which is his and which is the other guys but he looks badly hurt.

He had done it for you. In your name. And you could barely take how hot you felt but he needed you. “i have supplies in my tent let me fix you up.” the boys oooo’d and ben barely acknowledges them as he nods and allows you to drag him off to your tent.

The boys call after you two with some unsavory choice words but you just turn and flip them off before you continue to help ben to your tent. You place him on your bed cot and try to ignore the racing of your heart as he stays quiet, merely looking at you.

Hes usually quiet but not around you. Its odd to see him like this. So you shakily rummage around with the stuff in your chest as you nervously begin to talk. “thank you for stepping in i was really nervous he wasn’t going to leave me alone, you didn’t meed to-“ you gasp as your spun around and lips lock onto yours with fever.

One of his hands reach behind you and push all your stuff off your table, lifting up you up to sit on it while he kisses you. You gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth.

Your head is spinning. You can taste the metallic taste of his blood seep into your mouth and it laces its way into your kiss. You fear you’re dreaming. You felt asleep on watch shift again and when you wake this will all just be a dream.

Yet when you grip your hand against his waist he pulls away and winces. You are pulled back to reality and try to pull away to grab your medical supplies that now are all spilled all over the floor but he quickly stops you.

“ben you’re hurt.” “i dont care.” He tries to kiss you again but you dodge it and grip his face in your hands. “ben,” His hand slide around your waist and play with the fabric of your tunic, testing the waters and sliding his hands lower and almost under the tunic you wear. “ben.” you say firmer and he pauses to look at you.

“right now i just need to feel your skin, please.” your heart pounds loudly against your chest and your mouth drops open. “ben,” his name shakily passes your lips and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “How dare he talk to you like that. i should have killed him,” his hands slide under your tunic his hot hands run up and down your bare sides slowly. “he should know i take no disrespect to the future lady of blackwood.”

You kiss him unable to take it anymore and he meets your fever eagerly. arms wrapping around you and pulling you so your chest to chest and you can feel him pressing against your trousers.

His lips trail down your jaw as his hands find your breasts and you let out a moan as he squeezes them in his hands. His lips your neck and he sucks at any skin he can get while he grinds his hips against yours. His hands grow more feverish as he uses his teeth to pull down your tunic to expose more of your collarbone and neck, youre sure to be covered in bruises tomorrow but you cant be bothered with that.

One of his hands trails down your stomach and almost gets to reach under your pants until a horn sounds outside and you both look at each other alarmed.

“ugh fuck me.” “wish i could.” you slap him on the chest as he pulls away and he hisses.

“that hurts.” “if you had let me patch you up it wouldn’t be hurting you idiot.” “you certain didn’t look like you were going to complain. not when i was about to-“ “okay! lets go they need us.” you ignore the sound of his laughter as you flap open your tent and rush out leaving him behind, hoping you look presentable enough your men dont ask questions and pray you can continue what you were doing with ben later.

[bibliophile221b]

A treeline promise: part 2 — [18+MDNI!!]

summary: tension was at its peak after the battle at Burning Hill. In order to restore peace across the Riverlands, a feast has been hosted by your father. When the newly-anointed Lord Blackwood learns about your publicly announced betrothal, things turn sideways… // part 1

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Bracken!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, mentions of blood, dirty talk, swear words, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), (slight) breeding kink, religious aspects, Benji’s a tease, your dad kinda dislikes u, my first language isn’t English…

The wind howled through the castle walls, and harsh rain cried upon your windows. You watched as the trees below danced with the wind, trying to keep up with its rhythm. How long had it been since you left your chambers? Since you’d seen anything other than the same fireplace, the same books, the same stone walls that entrapped you from the outside world.

If you had to blame anyone for your current situation, it would have to be yourself. If you could take it all back, you would.

The sight and smell of battle were still as present and persistent in your mind as ever. The bodies of the dead lingered in your thoughts, haunting you still. How naive you were, believing it to be victorious to fight in the midst of battle, and how terribly wrong you were.

At dawn, you had managed to sneak yourself into a cart with your father’s soldiers. Dressed as a boy, you had taken your sword with you, apt to give up your life for your House. You had been prepared, but as soon as the clash breathed a beginning, it felt as though you were in all of the Seven Hells at once. You slew two men, but soon as the aftermath had hit, there was nothing you could take pride in.

The fight had been pointless, unnecessary, and cruel. Too many lives wasted for a king or queen that would never give up their own for theirs. As this realization dawned on you, paranoia took over your mind, and all it could fixate on was that one person. You had searched around you, over the muddied, bloody cadavers that were piling up over the grassland; all in an attempt to find him.

You needed to find him alive, you had thought, stumbling over people, fallen swords, and all the things you couldn’t reminisce before fortuitously facing your father mid-fight. You can still recall the pure fury in his eyes. It was only after the battle that you faced a truth much worse: your brother, Amos, had been killed. The ride home with your father had been tormenting.

Unable to grieve, you endured your father's relentless anger—a reaction not to the loss of his son, but to finding you on the battlefield; his griefless facade never slipped. All you wanted to do was mourn your brother, and when you expressed this at last, all your father could say was, “And so you will, but not in the sight of mine,” and thus, you had been locked up in your bedchamber ever since. Even so, today would make a difference to your solitude.

After the battle at Burning Hill, tension had risen in the Riverlands. The uncle of the one who sits the throne, Daemon Targaryen, part of the blacks, had left your father no choice but to bend the knee to his niece Rhaenyra Targaryen. Moreover, he had compelled the numerous houses of the Riverlands to fuse together, to become each other’s allies rather than enemies. Your father, aware of your aversion to marriage, had thought of the idea fondly and betrothed you to some Tully lad you had yet to meet.

It was on this sorrowing day that you were to meet your future husband, your other half. Your father had hosted a feast for all Houses in the Riverlands. Today, the announcement would be made, and your father would proudly declare how he sold you to the highest bidder, a decision in which you undeniably had no say in.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your door. "My lady, you’re late. Your father is waiting for you," Alice, your housemaid, insisted. You nodded and rose from your seat by the window, smoothing your dress straight. Before leaving the room, you felt as if you were leaving a part of yourself behind. When you return to your chambers tonight, you will be promised to a man you didn’t even know. All you will be known for is being his wife. This night a part of you will cease to exist, you just wished someone had known you for more than that, but time was nearing its hour. "It is better to believe I wasn’t someone else before," you thought, closing the door behind you.

The halls of Stone Hedge were filled to the brim with people. Knights, Ladies, Lords and all the people who held titles were scattered across the room. You noticed some of the sigils; House Tully, House Butterwell, House Mootoon of Maidenpool, House Frey- you were overwhelmed with the mixture of noise from the crowd and music blasting from every corner.

You walked through the room, seeking your seat by one of the grand tables set against the walls of the hall. You noticed your father speaking to a Lady you didn’t know, who sat disconcertingly close to the right of him. The table was packed, but a seat had been reserved for you. It was only when you took your place that you realized the table where the noblest of your House sat was shared with another particular House.

House Blackwood.

Your heart started racing. Melded emotions of anticipation and fear overcame you. You casted your eyes across the table, seeking someone or something, but the attempt was ill-fated. You were breathing heavily, clutching your dress by your knees, trying to collect yourself- and, after some time, you did. A cup of ale or two made the food before you start to looking delicious and the music around you kissed your ears rather than harrowing them.

Despite your father’s calling, he refused to recognize your presence, leaving you to fend for yourself whilst an hour passed by. You kept to yourself mostly, avoiding locking eyes with the guests sitting close to you. You were the only one of your family on this side of the table, feeling in your gut that it was a decision made on your father’s part.

Your thoughts got interrupted yet again that evening, but this time by the announcement of your father. “Good evening, everyone, how appreciative I am to be the host of today’s feast,” he started, keeping a cup in hand, silencing the crowd. “Today marks a special day in the near history of the Riverlands as we share the table with all Houses and see each other as equals, at last. All of us have lost loved ones in wars between our Houses, and so we shall know sorrow, but let us, at the very least, bond through grief, lest gaining nil from our suffering.”

When you looked up from the table, you saw your father’s eyes water slightly. His eyes gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. The sight somewhat warmed you, knowing your father grieved his son, even in his own silent, troubled way. “Certainly affiliations can be developed in many other ways, for instance, through marriage-“ as his eyes caught yours. “Therefore my House will fuse with House Tully through a betrothal between my daughter and the eldest son of Lord Elmo Tully,” with that he raised his cup, earning loud cheers and hoorays throughout the room.

His proclamation seemed to have been a sign for many to retrieve to the floor. Amongst you, Lords asked Ladies from different Houses than their own for a dance. Regardless of the fact that it truly felt nice to see clarity after such dark times, your misfortunate fate still hung in the back of your mind. As you returned to your plate, you were at least relieved to find your side of the table almost completely empty, which made you feel more at comfort and less agitated than before. However, you only got a small taste of comfort before it became interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind you.

You turned and locked eyes with a black-haired man; looking into those dark brown eyes that appeared amber in the luminance of the room. You could never forget them even if you wanted to, neither could you his smug face that was quite literally looking down at you as of now. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you getting your melancholy all over your dish,” he chuckled. “You look like shit”.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? I think about you enough as it is,” you admitted, earning a smirk from him. “Daydreaming about me, are we?” he purred, offering himself a seat next to you. “Yeah right,” you scoffed. “Any thought or word I hear about you is another second too many I’ve come to waste of my time, so don’t delude yourself.” You poured yourself some more ale, even though you hated the taste of it. If enough of it could cure you to forget about this night, then so be it. You chugged the liquid and wiped the remnants of it off of your lips.

Benji looked at you with a hint of concern, but you didn’t take note of it as he poured himself a drink as well. “I’d ask if you cared for a dance, but I’m still sore from battle, something you luckily don’t have to worry about,” he teased. “A dance? Have you grown soft on me or has the fight given you brain damage?” you grinned. “Oh, you wish-“ he laughed sarcastically, clutching his stomach. “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep praying to your Gods for my ruin.” “They’re in the process, so beware,” you replied, hitting him against his chest. “Besides, believe it to be true or not, I was also present at battle. I have yet to experience any soreness from it, so I believe it to be an issue on your part.”

You noticed his smile dropping slightly by your last remark, but you thought nothing of it forthwith as you turned around to witness the dance. You saw your father dancing with the same Lady he had been previously speaking to. Her hair was golden, a striking contrast to your late mother’s. Inside you, a sense of one-sided tension brewed, though you tried to ignore it, clutching your cup tightly in your hands. Benji noticed it and you felt his eyes boring into your every movement.

“How’ve you been? I didn’t hear from you since-“ “Since when?” you broke him off, facing him. He was taken aback and frowned his eyebrows, “I don’t know, such as after Burning Hill perhaps?” The name of the battle hit your heart like a knife. Everyone in Stone Hedge avoided the name like a plague, merely referring to it like a ransom battle, a nothing fight, ignoring the catastrophe that it was. “What the hell were you thinking when you decided to show up?” he cursed, raising his voice slightly. “I wasn’t,” you admitted irritated. You looked away from him in an endeavour to make the conversation come to an end.

“What’s going on with you?” he whispered, leaning into you and begging for a somewhat decent answer before the two of you got interrupted. “Lady Bracken,” a voice chimed in. You looked up to see Kermit Tully, your betrothed, in front of you offering a hand. His auburn hair had been neatly brushed back, and his raiments were fit for a man of his status, showing everyone his place high up in the hierarchy between your Houses. His blue eyes caught yours. “May I have this dance?” Even though a pit was forming in your stomach, your face beamed with delight. “Of course, ser.” You graciously took his hand, turning a blind eye to Benji along the way, and let your partner lead you to the floor.

A hand traced down to halt at your waist, while his other hand let go of yours, hovering slightly in front of yours as you mirrored his movements. As you moved your feet alongside his to the rhythm of the music, you noticed Benji remaining at the table, watching the two of you. His jaw was clenched tightly, reflecting his vexation as you moved closer to your betrothed. For the rest of the dance, and the dances thereafter, you paid no mind to him. He was the past, if there had ever been one. You hated him; you always had. The feeling was mutual, and that was all you needed to remember.

When time had passed the twelfth twice, you excused yourself to get some clear air. You felt quite drowsy and drained, despite your good time with ser Tully. He was kind and seemed to care about whatever was on your mind. You were at least glad that he was better than your horrid expectations. You entered a hall past where the feast was being held, when a housemaid greeted you. “Lady Bracken,” she said as she nodded to you. You returned the nod before she greeted another, “Lord Blackwood,” she bowed slightly. Blackwood.

You turned around and faced Benji again. “Seven Hells—are you following me?” you exclaimed. “I was headed to the gardens,” he remarked, “these halls are quite general. Figured you’d be the one knowing that as common sense.” He walked past you, brushing his arm slightly against yours. “And what business do you have in the gardens, may I ask?” You followed him as it was the same route to your chambers, nevertheless. He sighed lightly, his irritability showing as clear as day. “A Lord’s business isn’t that of a Lady’s now, is it?”

The corridors were silent aside from the breeze of the harsh wind forecourt. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from ongoing his pace, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He effortlessly tugged your hand from his arm and met your eyes. “You’re a Lady now, correct?” he said, his voice edged with ire. “I believe that Lady’s aren’t expected to be found together in the presence of a Lord, all alone, especially near nighttime,” he shot his head in the direction of the hall where the feast was being held, “what imagination might overcome the guests if only they knew?”

“I don’t trouble myself with thoughts of what others might think, especially the guests” you snickered. He looked at you, narrowing his eyes, as if you were an enigma that needed deciphering, before laughing it off, “You go from an aspirant knight to a betrothed Lady, and I’m ostensibly supposed to find any reason for that change of heart?” Your smile quickly faded. “Some people can’t permit themselves to let their heart guide their actions,” you said sternly.

“What has gotten into you? Seriously?” he snapped, “Since when do you bow down to be society’s pawn?” His sudden change in demeanour from earlier in the evening stunned you, the dimly lit hall capable of imaging the hostility in his voice perfectly. “A stitch in time saves nine,” you disclosed. He let out a sardonic laugh, stained with disbelief. “A marriage- a fucking marriage of convenience. That’s what you settled for?” You stood your ground, though conveying pure astonishment.

“That’s all there was in my reach; I couldn’t settle for more,” you persisted, “Therewithal he’s kind, he’s good-” you argued. “You don’t love him. That marriage will be worthless-” he swore, casting his eyes to the heavens. “How do you know I don’t love him?” you interrupted him, your blood boiling. He always knew precisely how to push your buttons.

“Because I know you. You cannot keep up this pretence for much longer-” he condemned, raising his voice. His brows knitted together, his frustration bleeding through them. “Why do you even care?” you shot back at him as you deflected your eyes away from him. “I-” he tried, but his words were in vain as you interrupted him by a whisper, “I thought you were dead.” His silence synced with your mind, leaving your heart stark. “I looked for you everywhere, I heard nothing from you and couldn’t get a word out of anyone even if I begged them to-” you continued, “I thought you were dead and you couldn’t care less if I knew you were alive, so please do enlighten me how I’m supposed to know that you care for me when today is the first day I’ve seen you since-” You stopped before you could finish your sentence, with heartache overcoming you.

His gaze softened, though his lips tightened into a thin line, his scar faint. “I sent word for you. Ever since,” he said. “I believed you weren’t eager to return a letter, so I let it be.” He moved closer to you, narrowing the space between you. “When it comes to you, I will always comply. Whatever you wish, I will abide by.” You looked at him perplexed, “Whatever do you mean?” “To hell with Tully,” he said, his gaze filled with momentum, “leave tonight with me.”

Confounded was a belittlement to describe your riposte at that moment. “Are you at your wit’s end?” you exclaimed. “You have no reason to pursue this marriage if you go with me. I’m a Lord, whereas that Tully lad is nothing more than a cunt with a stick too far up his arse,” he pressed. “I have a life here, a duty,” you persisted. “Seven Hells— you always think the entire world can be stopped if only you utter a word.” “Quit changing the subject and pretending there’s nothing between us,” he said at last, frustration painted across his face, his poise a sharp contrast to yours.

You narrowed your eyes, “Can you no longer reconcile our past? I don’t like you, I never fucking did, and neither did you. That’s what’s between us,” you said. He took a step towards you, your movements countering his. “You’re a fool if you still believe that either of us adheres to that,” he said before leaning in. Your back pressed against the unforgiving cobblestone wall behind you, its freezing touch sending a shiver down your spine. Eyes closed, your heart raced, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. His lips hovered before yours, a silent plea filling the space between your breaths. “I want you to say it”.

You opened your eyes, meeting his, the brown ablaze.

“I’ve always-”

Hated you.

“hated you” you thought, but you couldn’t bear to say it aloud. It was too strong a word and not fitting evermore. Something held you back, the words remaining in your mind, burning into your soul- why couldn’t you just say it?

As one with the words, he waited and could only look into your eyes, waiting for the end of the sentence, waiting for the kill, but it never came. Your blade never stroked his throat, his sword never caressed your side. Blood never did spill; the tiles beneath never got a taste of either of you.

Breaking the silence, he leaned in, pulling you into a hungry kiss, as if compelled by an overwhelming need. Your hands roamed over his body, craving his touch, while his tongue explored your mouth, making you feel whole and completely intoxicated. Your fingers ran through his hair, gripping it slightly and earning a moan from him. Your body felt as if it were held above a stove, burning from the inside out. You broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily. “We can’t—I’m betrothed, it’s a sin,” you said, your words no more than a whisper.

"I do not care," he breathed. "I do not need the favour of the old Gods nor the new. I am your devotee. I'll face anything sacred; I'll walk through all the Seven Hells if that meant the Stranger could grant me another day with you. I’ll yield my soul if I could receive the blessing of the Mother for both of us; I’d beg forgiveness of the old Gods, so that the feud between our Houses is no longer and our blood can be seen as one.” His teary eyes begged for a response, but you were aghast, your words stuck in your throat, betraying the essence of your heart. “I lay myself bare for you. It’s your choice,” he whispered.

This time, you were the one who leaned into him, pulling him into a carnal kiss. Dizziness spread across your mind like a virus, turning you impulsive, leading him into a nearby room and latching onto him again as soon as the door closed. All you both could manage were sloppy kisses, whilst yearning for more. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. He grinded his hips against yours, seeking any friction between you until he kissed your neck and trailed down your body, halting before your waist. He pulled up your dress, inciting your heat, kneading your thighs. “Let me worship you the way you deserve”, he whispered before unveiling your core and placing a soft kiss on it, sending shivers throughout your whole body.

His eyes glowed in the moonlit darkness of the room as he locked onto yours, maintaining eye contact while his tongue traced a slow path from your entrance to your clit, teasing and savouring every moment before enveloping you completely. Each motion was relentless, fuelling your senses and stirring a rhapsody within. His touch was irresistible, his gaze captivated by you as his moans pulsed against your clit. “Wait—” you breathed as you felt your peak nearing, “I need you”.

With a final lingering kiss, he rose, his mouth slightly open, glistening with your slick. His hand wrapped around your neck, thumb resting on your chin. “Use your words, love.” Your cheeks were painted a shade of red, but its reaction was futile as you felt shame no longer. “I want you to ruin me for anyone else,” you confessed in a silent whisper. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his bulge, begging for friction against your thigh. The space between you endured a burning desire, an ache for more, your hearts syncing as one. “You suffocate me,” he sighed, “you’re fucking killing me.” You brought your hand to his face, caressing his lips and feeling the wetness of your own on his scar beneath your fingertips. “Don’t hold back,” you hushed before capturing his lips with yours.

Afterwards, everything was covered in a haze, every action bewitching your psyche and soul entirely. His lips were a divergent blend of softness and harshness against yours. The deep hunger, alienated for far too long, surged from the depth of each other’s souls, filling the room and drowning out all else. He desperately and swiftly unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from the restraints of his garments as your hands wandered through his tender hair, pulling him closer. “Missed my touch that much, did you?” he teased between kisses, feeling his grin against your lips. You tugged at his hair in response, eliciting a groan from him. “By the end, you’ll be the one begging for more,” you swore as he lifted your dress.

“I’ll beg if only I can hear those pretty noises of yours again,” he purred before he sank into your heat without warning. The sudden contact made him hiss, and in response to his size, you clamped your hands to his shoulders. Once you seemed adjusted, his movements became feverish, seeking that ecstasy you both longed for. The lewd noises from the slapping of your skin and his merciless pounding made you unable to hold back your moans, earning a laugh from him. “There you go,” he breathed, “make your betrothed hear you.”

He lifted your leg, allowing him better access, directing for that sweet spot that made you sing so sweetly for him. “Look how pretty you look, taking all of me so well,” he sighed. His lips wandered on your neck, marking you purple with desire, while his hand ceased under your dress, claiming your breast with his hand. His cold, coarse hand against your sensitive skin made you gasp, your breath hitching as he played with your nipple before pinching it briefly. You squirmed beneath his touch, the sensations becoming maddening, making you light-headed.

He brought his hand lower, pausing before your bundle of nerves, then rubbing harsh circles against it, making your release feel imminent. “Please, Benji, I’m so close,” you begged. “Cum for me, love,” he whispered as he looked at you through his lashes before giving you sloppy kisses around your neck. “Just know no one else can make you feel this good.” His thrusts became bodily, hitting that spot inside you just right, brewing something in your lower stomach and making you reach that euphoria at last.

He watched as you threw your head back, mouth agape. Lightning struck nearby, lighting the room and making your shadows dance on the walls. The thunder hit right after, the weather strong and fierce, aligning with your sinful act. A Blackwood and a Bracken; defying and going against your nature, but Seven Hells- it felt right.

You clenched around his length, uncontrollably, feeling him throb inside you. The corrupt desire to feel him release within you delayed your clarity. “Fuck, I—” he sighed, attempting to pull himself away. “No—“ you pulled him back. “I want to feel you. Fuck the betrothal, fuck Tully. I need you.” His flushed face looked at you reassuringly, silently seeking approval before he yielded; before he melted into you, unable to resist. His eyes rolled back into his head and a silent groan escaped him as he released his load inside you. The pressure of his seed filled you, making you gasp and pull him even closer.

For a moment, you remained together as one, both struggling for breath. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he whispered, breaking the silence between you. He withdrew from your embrace, leaving your hole dripping with his load. He cleaned you up as best as the occasion granted him, before attending to himself. “Did you mean it?” you asked, uncertain of whether or not you wanted to know the answer. He turned to you, a trace of confusion on his face before he took your hands in his. “I stay true to my word,” he insisted, “but before we want Tully, or worse—your father—to suspect anything, we need to leave at once.”

So when the servants walked by the chamber, looking everywhere for a sign of Lord Bracken’s daughter, it was all in vain. The lone wind blew its last breath near the dormer of your bedchamber, your name haunting the grounds like they did you with your victim’s names. No matter your father’s shouting or his scolding, for his voice blew back to its chilling home, and your soul was to return to Stone Hedge nevermore.

Your true name would be plated in silver, laid on a grave to be long forgotten, since there was no more to remember. Your false name became one of songs in the Riverlands, an old maid’s tale exchanged between the elderly and later the young turned elders. A knight of the Riverlands was who you were born to be, and a Lord’s name drenched in blood yielded before you to take whatever fate was yours to claim. His bloodied teeth sang as lasting as oak, dripping your true name in the songs that enshrined your false one, making your own self true at last.

[gay-dorito-dust]

could we get benji with reader and he’s jealous of the braken boys liking you

There was no mistaking the fact that Aeron Bracken had taken somewhat of a liking to you, much to Benjicot’s dismay.

Perhaps it was because you were with him so the brunette was eager to get under his skin by getting close to you? Poison your mind into thinking him as a better choice as he smiled sweetly at you, bringing your hand to his lips all the while keeping his eyes on your every expression.

Regardless of the motive Benji didn’t like it, the Bracken bastard thought himself slick with his honeyed words, but Benjicot could see through Aeron as well one could see through clear glass. The man was brazen with his actions, even more so when he was aware of Benjicot’s presence, and would even glance over at him from time to time to gauge his reaction towards every move he made towards you as though goading him into acting out.

The mousey faced prick brought Benji’s blood to a boil quicker than most but it was made even worse when you were being used to bait him into snapping. Even now as he, Kermit and Oscar came back from training, laughing and joking with one another as they playfully pushed and shoved each other as brothers do despite the ache in their muscles.

‘I bet you’re more than eager to see y/n aren’t you Benji?’ Oscar asked teasingly as he nudged his friend in the side, chuckling at the sight of his friend’s cherry red blush that stretched up towards the tips of his ears. ‘Oh look at him Kermit, our precious little Benji boy is blushing about his spouse, how sweet.’ He adds as Kermit smiled at the sight.

‘Oh you’re right Oscar! The man’s cheeks are about as ripe as freshly picked cherries!’ Kermit exclaims, unfazed when Benjicot smacked him in the chest, if anything it made the Tully want to tease his lovesick friend even more. ‘I bet you thought about them the entire time you were with us, wishing that you’d be where with them, probably under the Weirwood tree trading kisses and words of love.’

‘Oh piss off the pair of you.’ Benji said under his breath as he tried to hide how accurate their words were, he did indeed think of you often when he was away with the lads, growing impatient the longer he was void of your comforting presence. However something must’ve caught his friend’s attention as Oscar and Kermit stopped, looking at something in front of them and just as Benjicot was about to question them, the smile on his face drops. Ahead of them standing far too close to you for his liking was Aeron Bracken, who looked as though he was in the midst of telling you a story that you didn’t believe in the slightest was true.

Benjicot has grown sick and tired of Aeron constantly being near you, it was obviously that the Bracken cunt was intentionally ignoring that you were his, that you were taken and happily so in hopes that he could somehow worm his way between the two of you. Benjicot could feel the fire within his chest become an raging inferno, everything with him burned with the need to pummel the mouse faced Bracken into a pulp, bruised knuckles be damaged if it were to get you away from him.

He had held back for much longer then he intended, so the anger and frustration from the past times that Aeron tried making a move towards you, whether it be by brushing a stray strand of hair from your face or not so subtle glances towards your lips, were resurfacing to the forefront of Benji’s mind as he felt his breath become more ragged and his hands clenched tight until his knuckles were white as bone. The lack of action taken must’ve given Aeron Bracken the impression that he could try to move in on you whenever he was out of reach to do anything about it.

However that was all going to change rather quickly as Benjicot was picking up his pace with Oscar and Kermit struggling to keep up with him, but Benji was seeing red and seething with unbridled anger that only seem to threaten to burn him alive if he didn’t find an outlet soon. ‘Bracken!’ He yells with the anger of a man channeling his entire houses distain as he closes the distance between himself and Aeron, practically all up in his face as Oscar and Kermit stood by your side.

‘Blackwood.’ Aeron said back with equal disdain as he tried to stand tall, hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Don’t you think you’ve overstayed your welcome?’ Benjicot asked as he made sure you were well and truly hidden behind him from Aeron’s eyes, even going so far as to move in tandem of the brackens dark eyes as they shifted, keeping himself in his line of view and nobody else. ‘For I’m certain my spouse has had their fill of your face to last an entire lifetime, consisting with how often you keep trying to make them see reason by being with you like the conniving cunt that you are.’ Benjicot adds in a low growl.

‘They need someone devoted to them.’ Aeron spat back as he stepped up in Benjicot’s face, ‘not someone who’s fucking off to play knights with his mates.’ The Bracken then gestures to Oscar and Kermit who glared back at him

‘And you think you are?’ Benji asked rhetorically, he wanted to laugh, truly he did as he ran his tongue over his teeth because who the fuck did Aeron think he was to say such pure shit and believe it to be truth? Whether it was taught by his rat of an uncle Benji couldn’t care in the slightest, for it only further proved to him that Brackens would gladly further themselves through lies and altering historical events to better suit their own image in the eyes of greater houses.

‘I know i am, I-‘

‘Stop!’ You exclaimed, pushing both Benji and Aeron away from one another, causing them to look at you in bewilderment. ‘I’ve forced myself for listen for long enough to be now at my wits end.’ You looked to Aeron and crossed your arms over your chest. ‘Aeron, I have made it abundantly clear on multiple occasions that my heart lies with lord Blackwood from now until my last breath, and yet you still persist in chasing something that has no need nor want for you. It makes you look desperate.’ Oscar and Kermit snorted at Aeron’s expense, but were silenced when you looked at them with a stern glare as you looked to Benjicot with a soft expression.

‘Benji,’ you uttered softly as you reached up to hold his face, to which he was quick to melt into, ‘I need you to put more trust in me for I am not someone in constant need of saving, I can hold my own with or without you.’ You tell him and while he wanted to say something, Benji decided against it and let you speak the rest of your mind to him. ‘You hold my heart, is that not enough to reassure you that I’d never look into the eyes of another man when my head is filled with thoughts of you and only you?’ You add as you looked deeply into his stormy eyes that have now became a calm ocean under your touch and words.

Jealously still flowed through him but at a rate of which he could barely feel the influence of the green eyed monster, no more as more as he could the gentle fluttering of a butterflies wings, and yet he felt a sense of guilt settle in his stomach upon realising that you thought that he didn’t trust you in the presence of another man, Bracken or otherwise without feeling a tinge of jealously.

‘I trust you wholeheartedly.’ Benjicot tells you softly as he holds your waist, pulling you in close, completely disregarding everybody else as his eyes remained on yours. ‘And I apologise for ever making you think that I didn’t when I should’ve just said something instead so that doubt would’ve have been able to grow in your heart.’ The young lord then rested his forehead against your own, breathing you in as he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer until you were flushed against his chest. ‘I shall learn to do better by you and for you from this day forth, I swear it upon the old gods and I swear it upon to you, my heart. I may become jealous but that does not reflect my distrust in you but more so in others who seek your heart.’ Benjicot finishes as he looking deeply into your eyes.

You sighed, knowing that you could never truly be angry at Benjicot, not when he looked at you they way he did now, as though you were the only one worth looking at for the rest of his life however long that maybe. ‘This is still up for discussion.’ You told him as you went to bid Aeron farewell, only to see that he had already left in a strope, shrugging your shoulders as you Oscar, Kermit and Benjicot left to head back to Raventree hall; Only to tug Benjicot to stop once Ocar and Kermit were out of earshot to whisper to him, ‘you’re quite handsome when you’re jealous.’ Before pressing a kiss to his lips quickly as you ran to catch up to the Tully brothers with Benjicot following shortly after with a smile on his face.

[painted-flag]

From Eden IV - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x daenys velaryon

✧.* summary: it is the eve of Daenys and Benjicot's wedding and each are celebrating with loved ones. while their celebrations are cheery, it is the calm before the storm; heading closer to disaster.

✧.* word count: 3.5k

“And on that day, there had never been more drunk people in all of the Seven Kingdoms!” Rhaenyra jested. Daenys, Baela, and Rhaena erupt into laughter at the finale of the story. They had been secluded in a room and idly snacking and drinking wine. Daenys, unfortunately, was not able to participate in the feasting on account of her dress fitting. She stood on a raised dias in the room, sucking in her stomach and praying for her release. There was no denying her eagerness to marry Ben, but the dress fitting she could do without.

It was the day before her marriage ceremony to Benjicot and she was being put through one final check of her dress. Rhaenyra used the excuse of making sure everything was made perfect before the big day, but truly she wanted to spend as much time with her daughter as possible until her departure to Raventree Hall. Their afternoon was spent talking of gossip and excitement for the wedding. 

The main dressmaker bowed to Rhaenyra, “The dress is complete, princess.” 

Daenys resisted to urge to sigh loudly, for her feet were tired from standing for hours. She immediately marched behind one of the dividers in the room and began to get out of the dress with the help of some handmaids. By the time she had gotten ready again, the dressmaker was gone and the maids followed.

Daenys went to the lounge area where all the women were talking. Baela already had a goblet of wine poured for her and passed it into her hand when she sat down with them. Daenys gave her stepsister a thankful smile before taking a sip. 

“Do you have any more wild stories like that?” Rhaena asked as she picked up a grape from the silver platter on the table and popped it into her mouth. 

“Oh, well it depends on your definition of wild, my dear,” Rhaenyra responded. She leaned back in her chair and gently rubbed her stomach. Her pregnancy had progressed well, with little discomfort or worry from the maester. It would only be a few months until the infant is expected to come. 

“Surely you have a story to rival the one from before?” Baela joined her sister in prodding for information. Daenys took a sip from her cup while her mother spoke. 

“I do have one story with a Blackwood.” Daenys choked on her wine and placed her cup down in a fit of coughs. Baela and Raena laughed at her frantic movements. 

“You what, mother?” Daenys questioned. She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped the wine from her chin with slight embarrassment. 

Rhaenyra had a playful look on her face, “When I was a young girl, I had a tour for suitors. One of them was a Blackwood. He had to have been… maybe ten and two at that time. A charming young boy, but much too young. Oh, whatever was his name… Warren… Wesley…” 

“Willem?” Daenys questioned. She had begun to lean forward in her seat. 

“Ah, yes, that was his name. A Bracken lad had insulted him and at that point, I just wished to leave. He managed to cut him down despite being half his size.” Rhaenyra plopped a grape into her mouth upon finishing. She told the story as if it was a casual topic of discussion.

“Willem did that? He never mentioned anything about it when I visited Raventree Hall.” Daenys had grabbed the pitcher to fill her cup. “He did mention that he met you once… but nothing about killing a man in front of you.” 

In the first month of her courtship with Ben, he had taken her to Raventree Hall. Daenys got to see his ancestral home and meet his family. His father, Samwell, had been a copy of his son. She could tell where he got his shyness and fierce will from. She was grateful to be welcomed so easily into the family, even prior to their engagement. Willem and Alysanne, Ben’s aunt and uncle, were a joy to be around. It took them a few days to get used to the presence of a princess, but after the ice was broken Daenys meshed in so well with them. 

It was two weeks into her stay that Benjicot had officially asked for her hand in marriage, beneath the colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. It was part of a planned dinner they had together, a tale of sweetness she wished to keep to herself. 

“The Bracken boy asked for it, to be so disrespectful in front of a hall of lords and me, their princess. A scandal to be sure.” Her mother responded. 

“Speaking of Blackwoods,” Baela turned to Daenys, “How is your Blackwood, cousin?” 

“I feel there is something else behind your words.” Daenys countered. 

“We want to know about him!” Rhaena shifted in her seat with excitement. 

Daenys shrugged, “You have already met him, many times. Why-” 

“The details, ñuha prūmia,” Rhaenyra began, “How does he treat you? What drove you to such an engagement, other than to benefit my place as heir?” 

Daenys paused and thought for a moment. There really was no explanation as to why she gravitated towards him so easily. There was no struggle to know him, or awkward first meetings. She had a connection to him, and that was all there was to it. 

“It’s… more than just knowing someone your whole life. Conversation flows easily with him as if we had always known one another. Perhaps we were acquainted that well in a past life. Truly, I cannot explain it. It just feels right, as everything is as it's supposed to be.” Daenys did not believe her words had been poetic, as surprisingly that was Ben’s talent, not hers. However, the gentle awe from the women around her showed that her words were enough. 

“He is a gentleman, from what I have seen so far,” Rhaena added, and the other women nodded in agreeance. 

“And what is your gentleman up to on the eve of your wedding?” Baela asked. 

“Oh, Kermit and Oscar Tully arrived just this morn. They are most likely training in the courtyard now, nothing too strenuous.” Daenys answered. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“Drink, drink, drink, drink!” The joined chants of Oscar, Kermit, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daemon carried through the feasting hall of Dragonstone. Ben had a large pitcher of ale clutched in both of his hands. He was currently chugging the drink to the encouragement of the men around him. Some drops of ale spilled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Once he finished, Ben slammed the drink on the feasting table and raised his arms in victory. All of the men broke into celebratory hollers. 

“Nice one, laddie!” Oscar Tully patted his friend on the back. 

Ben had planned on having a calm night, perhaps some training with friends, but those plans had been dashed when Daemon decided to host a dinner to celebrate the occasion. Ben could not deny him, for he was still unsure of the prince's thoughts on his and Daenys union. What was a slightly tense dinner had quickly faded the more ale they consumed. The only one who was sober had been Lucerys, as he was limited to only a few drinks. 

Jacaerys saw his brother try and sneak another glass and quickly snatched the pitcher, “I do believe you have reached your limit, brother.” 

“Just one more, Jace.” Lucerys pleaded. 

“I don’t think one more drink could do him any harm,” Ben defended his soon-to-be brother-in-law. 

Daemon nodded after taking a bite of his steak, “I agree with Lord Benjicot over there. One more drink won’t harm. Plus, it is time Luke begins to learn the ways of men.” 

“And the perfect way to do that is with what men know most - ale.” Kermit pitched in. 

“See, if the wedding were to happen in Kings Landing,” Daemon began as he picked up his cup and scanned his gaze across those at the table, “I could have shown you all the real way to celebrate. I know all the best brothels.” 

The men, besides Lucerys, laughed. Ben responded, “Well, Daenys wished for it to be on Dragonstone. Alas, my prince, I would have had to deny such an invite as I do not frequent such establishments.” Ben waved his hand in polite dismissal. He gazed at the food on his plate and decided he had eaten enough for the evening. 

“The honourable Lord Benjicot, faithful to his lady.” Jace teased as he put down a pitcher of ale, “Tell me, which one is the true commander in your union?” 

“I do as my princess bids, Jace.” Ben chided back at his jest. 

“Yes, yes, I understand your sentiment but such sweet words are boring me.” Daemon poured more wine into his goblet, “Let us drink some more.”

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“You’ve done an awful lot of teasing about my marriage, yet we have not talked about yours,” Daenys spoke as they glanced at Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra giggled at her daughter's words and hid her laughter from behind her goblet of wine. The two sisters looked around the room with visible nervousness. The ladies had moved from one of the lounge rooms and into another for dinner. The sun had set long ago, and flickering candles illuminated the room. It was a calm night, with little wind and gentle waters.

“We are not betrothed,” Baela answered. 

“But you will be soon,” Rhaenyra expressed, “And it is important that you keep that in mind.” 

Rhaena looked to Daenys, “There doesn’t happen to be another available Blackwood?” 

“Unfortunately, no. You needn’t worry, I do not care how many lords I will have to fight, you shall marry a man who is kind like you.” Daenys asserted. She had felt similar fear when looking at her prospects for marriage in the past. It is no surprise that it is also felt by Baela and Rhaena. She made a vow to herself to petition for their right to go about and seek a husband, rather than all the lords seek them out. 

Daenys reflected often on her luck with both happiness and deep sorrow. She was grateful for her situation, to be married to a man like Benjicot - more so in her ability to choose. However, her heart ached for the other women of the realm; both high and low-born. For the highborn ladies are ferried off like lambs to slaughter. She could not imagine what that was like for those born in the position of lower prospects. 

Daenys stifled a yawn, which caught her mother's attention. 

Rhaenyra rose from her seat, “The hour is late and tomorrow is such a big day. It is well past time we rest.” 

There were no complaints from any in the room. They all had been fighting off the coming sense of exhaustion in favour of speaking more. Baela and Rhaena gave both Daenys and Rhaenyra gentle hugs goodbye, with quick comments of luck to Daenys for her ceremony on the morrow. Once alone, the mother-daughter duo made their way through the dimly lit halls of Dragonstone and to Daenys’ room. Rhaenyra sat on one of the plush chairs in from of a burning hearth. Daenys got on the floor in front of her and waited patiently as her mother took out all of her braids and twists. The feeling of a brush being softly put through her hair nearly lulled her to sleep. 

There were no exchanges of words for the entirety of it. Nothing needed to be said. All that was left were two women wishing to be in one another's company, for such a thing would turn into a luxury once Daenys was married and carted off to the Riverlands. 

It was an unyielding fear in Daenys that she had not expressed to anyone, even Ben. Her time in the Riverlands was the longest she had been apart from her mother. It had only been bearable because she had the presence of her brother and the knowledge that she would return to Dragonstone. With her marriage to Ben, she would be tied permanently to Raventree Hall. It was not something she detested. She was excited for her marriage and had made good friends with the Blackwoods, but it was still new. 

Visits were possible, but they would be few and far between. As much as Daenys fought to build her reputation beyond a princess, she was deep down still a little girl basking in the light of her mother. A life of barely seeing Rhaenyra would be a life difficult to get used to. Adding to that fear was the prospect of becoming a mother herself. Daenys was not ready to be a mother. How could she, if she could barely part from her own?

“I know you care deeply for Benjicot,” Rhaenyra began as Daenys moved to sit beside her, “but if you have any regret or uncertainty, tell me and we can delay the ceremony. I do not want you to feel like it's too late.” 

Daenys looked fondly at her mother, “I do wish to marry him, truly. I am scared… about how I will be as a wife and most of all being parted from Dragonstone. I don’t wish to lose you, mother.” 

“Oh, ñuha prūmia,” Rhaenyra began, “You will never lose me.” She reached out and cupped her daughter's face. 

“Things are changing, greatly so.” 

“That happens in life. We grow up, get old, and move on from things. Listen, you will always be welcome here, any moment you can come on Suneater and visit as often as you'd like. I will do the same and visit Raventree Hall whenever possible.” Rhaenyra reassured her daughter. 

“You will be busy in a few months taking care of the babe.” Daenys spoke, “How is Visenya, anyways?” She had been insistent that the babe her mother was carrying would be a girl. Even more so had she been insistent that the child be named Visenya. Rhaenyra was inclined to follow her daughter's words. Her belly had begun to show a few moons ago, so it was only a matter of time until the birth. 

“Visenya moves often. It feels the same as all the other pregnancies before. Painful and uncomfortable, but worth it.” Rhaenyra answered. 

“Well, I do not envy you.” Daenys picked at the fabric of her dress. 

“Soon you will be in the same position.” Daenys frowned at her mother's words and continued to distract herself from the topic. Rhaenyra sensed her daughter's hesitancy and decided it was best not to push any further. 

“I think it is best that you get all the rest you can.” The heir got out of her seat with the help of Daenys. As she was being guided out the door, she turned back to her child, “You will always be my first daughter and my biggest priority.” She kissed Daenys on the head before parting down the hall. 

Daenys watched her mother go until she turned down another hallway. Once out of sight, she closed the door and proceeded to undress. She got into her nightclothes, a thin chemise, and crawled into bed. While she was plagued with exhaustion, the excitement for the next day exceeded it. She tossed and turned for a while, unable to fall asleep. It was after another turn in her bed that she huffed loudly and sat up. 

She shuffled out of bed and made her way to one of the windows. Daenys perched on the padded sitting area and watched the night sky. The moon hung in the sky amongst the stars. The shimmering light cast down on the gently moving water surrounding the island. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on one while wrapping her arms around her legs. 

The familiar creaking of the secret door in the far corner of the room pulled Daenys from her thoughts. She turned around to see Ben tumble into her room. When the door opened fully, he stumbled and almost lost his balance. Despite the near fall, it did not look like he was phased by it. 

“My lovely wife!” His voice, slightly slurred, called out. Daenys had never been more surprised by his actions. She could clearly see his intoxicated state. 

“Quiet down, Ben. Someone could hear.” She tried to keep her voice down. 

Ben paused and stood in the corner for a moment as if he was slowly processing her words. His arms hung at his sides and the clothing her wore was ruffled slightly. His breath was laboured. 

“Oh!” He acknowledged but followed it up with hushed laughter, “My apologies, my lady.” He went to bow but struggled immensely to keep his balance when doing it. He walked shakily over to her and plopped himself down. Ben leaned his back against the vertical part of the window and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Daenys unravelled and leaned into him while stretching out her legs. Ben had his legs bent at the knees, essentially caging her in. 

“And, pray tell, why are you so drunk?” Daenys questioned. 

Ben rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed, “Daemon wished to have dinner with me, your brothers, and my friends. It was amusing.” 

“I can tell by the scent of ale on you. Why have you come to my room so late? You should be resting and working off the drinking.” Her words were followed by a whine-like noise escaping his throat. 

“But I want my wife.” Ben buried his head in her hair and inhaled the scent. 

Daenys trembled from his touch, “Tomorrow, I shall be your wife.” Ben let out a hum of contentment at her words, his lips rumbling against her skin.

“You question why I am up so late, yet you happen to be awake.” Ben teased. 

“Sleep could not come.” She answered him, “I am excited, ‘tis all.” 

He kissed her neck. Though he was still drunk, Ben steeled himself, “I know what has been bothering you, and it has not been the wedding preparation. I know Raventree Hall may never be considered your home, and I am alright with that. I hope you recognize that you will be safe and content under my protection. House Blackwood may not be swimming in gold, but we have enough to be well comfortable.” 

“It is not that,” Daenys said as she grabbed one of his hands and began to play with it, “I love your home, truly. It will take me a while to adjust, but all will be fine. If I am being honest… you are my home, Ben.” She leaned back to kiss his cheek. 

Ben’s hold on her tightened as his arms wound tighter around her waist, “Raventree Hall will always be open to your family for visits. They can stay as long as they wish to.” 

“Thank you, Ben.” Daenys gaze moved back to the stars in the sky. 

“I spoke to your stepfather before coming,” Ben spoke after a few moments of silence. Daenys tensed at his words, unsure of how their conversation went. 

He saw her unease and continued, “It was good. Prince Daemon and I spoke privately. He made me take a vow, that is all. I do believe we found common ground.” 

“What vow?” Daenys inquired. 

“That I would protect you with my life. Honour you as my wife. That I pledge fealty to House Targaryen and come to serve in the event of conflict.” Ben swiped his thumb up and down on her stomach, rubbing in soothing motions. He lifted his head to rest his chin on the top of her head. 

“So you are aware of the tension in my family?” 

“The tension is across the seven kingdoms, love. Not many lords acknowledge their distaste for your mother as heir but rather hide it. When that comes to the surface…” He trailed off. Daenys felt the tension in his body and she knew he was just as inclined to the state of the kingdom as her. 

“That is something to worry about later,” Ben told her, “For now, you must sleep.” Daenys shifted in his hold to get more comfortable. She tilted to the side to get a better vision of the night sky. Ben began to run his hands up and down her arm. 

Daenys closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by Ben’s repetitive movements. It was only after her chest started to rise and fall in calm movements that Ben assessed her to finally be asleep. He maneuvered himself slowly off of the ledge while holding her in his arms. Ben walked across her room and to her bed. He leaned down to pull back the covers while keeping her steady. He placed Daenys into her bed and pulled the covers over her body, tucking in the sides tenderly. 

The Blackwood man placed a kiss on her forehead, “Until tomorrow, love.” 

______________

✧.* note: we are getting closer and closer to the war - super exciting. how long do you think peace during their marriage will last? just something to think on, lol.

if you want to be added to any taglist i have, you can fill out a response here.

✧.* taglist:  @credulouskhaleesi @username199945 @haydee5010 @yeolsbubbles @f1wh0recom @cococrazy18 @poppyflower-22 @eevanie @dumpmyblues

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight prt.8

Disclaimer: I wrote this because Victoria is a Shakespeare girlie and loves Romeo and Juliet. She also loves Crimson Peak, which inspired the last two parts.

Description: Benjicot resorts to drastic measures to win back his lady's trust and love, having accidentally placed doubt in her mind as to his true intentions.

Part 7

Playlist:

Gold Rush~ Taylor Swift

The Way I Loved You~ Taylor Swift

How You Get The Girl~ Taylor Swift

Adore You ~ Harry Styles

Warnings: female reader. Nothing else I don't think. Robb being an iconic twink with access to the blueprints for Bracken Hall and too much sass for Westeros to handle.

"Let me get this absolutely crystal clear in my mind. You described your union as 'mutually beneficial'!" Robb cried incredulously, striking Benjicot on the shoulder from behind, as he sat slumped onto a desk in the library of his ancestral seat. 

The glow cast by the lit lanterns, attached to the ancient stone walls, cast shadows over his face which bore signs of the deepest distress. 

"It sounds beyond reprehensible when you repeat those words, words which I most bitterly regret. I did not mean them in the way that both yourself and my lady have interpreted them, but it makes them no less acrid when you repeat them." He responded dejectedly, slumping his head once again upon the desk. 

Mumbling almost incomprehensibly so that Robb had to tilt his head down towards his friend to hear him. 

"What can I do to make amends? She hates me. I fear she will never speak to me again." 

Robb cast a contemptuous look at his friend before retorting. 

"You bloody fool. Not only did you make her sound to even my indulgent ears like a prize to be bartered between Houses, but you also did so with the very fiend from whose taunts you once defended her. Can you not see that you have made a shy, sweet girl who loved and trusted you feel as if the one person who she believed cared for her and would protect her above all others was nothing more than a cipher of the bullies she has sought to shield herself from?!" 

Seeing Benjicot's increasingly pained expression, as he roughly gripped his hair in both hands, Robb relented a little. 

"The damage you have done in your carelessness will be very difficult to remedy. You must show her that you love her and value her above all else. Words are not enough." 

Lifting his head, Benjicot's expression became resolved as he turned it to meet his friend. 

"I will, even if she will never again allow me to be in her presence," He struggled to continue, the thought causing him physical pain, "I must at the very least convince her that my love for her was never a lie. I cannot bear the thought that I have only cemented her insecurities. That I have born my own part in making her feel as if I mocked her...just like her contemptuous cousin." 

At this, he began to rise.

"I must see her." 

Perking up at this and slapping his friend approvingly on the back, Robb moved to lift his sword from the table and responded. 

"Glad to hear it. I'll get the Lads together and we can defend your flank whilst you hop over the border and get on your knees to beg your lady for forgiveness, you're favourite past time I know." 

Looking at him with mild irritation, Benjicot rose, placing a firm hold on Rob's shoulder. 

"Whilst I greatly appreciate the support, I must go myself. She's shy and frightened enough of me, after my misdemeanor, and I don't want you and your cronies scaring her off before I can even apologise." 

Laughing at this, Robb retorted smugly. 

"More likely you're afraid of her falling in love with me. Fear not, my interests lie in another direction entirely, but I'll hold off if you are determined. Of course Kermit will be devastated not to have a free shot at a Bracken, but I will assuage him." 

With this, Benjicot nodded at his friend before rising quickly and striding from the room, through the halls of Raventree as he continued to ruminate with anguish on the distressed face of his lovely lady and the part he had played in causing her distress. He would explain that he loved her and valued her above all else. That he meant every word he had said to her. That he would protect, serve and adore her if she would only let him, only forgive him. He would beg for her forgiveness, even if she could never herself love him again. It would be enough if she would only permit him to continue in her presence as a loyal knight.

It had been a day since Y/N had fled from the man she had come to trust and love, the only one she believed had ever cared for her and seen her as more than a shadow in the background of life....mistakenly. After Aeron had carried her back to her quarters in Bracken Hall she had locked her doors and allowed no visitors, barring her handmaiden. 

She spent the intervening hours between that of the previous days events and the advent of night on her balcony, her still pained ankle raised on a cushion on her chaise, as she read of Visenya. She was mentally and physically retreating to the shelter of her room and her books, determined never to open her heart to another person, as she had so foolishly done this time. She was silly to believe that Benjicot could love her for herself, rather than the political promise she could represent for him. She had trusted him where she had never invested anyone else with such trust. She had begun to gain in confidence in her dreams, her beliefs, and in his love, all for it to be shattered in a moment. Her embarrassment at having opened her heart to another person, to revealing herself so freely, where she was always so careful to be a shadowy presence in others' lives, was overwhelming, as she sunk further into her seat and further into herself. 

Wrapped in these painful thoughts, it was a few seconds before she heard a muffled voice calling her name from the direction of the dark expanse underneath her window. Rising carefully from her seat, using the pillars lining the portico of the balcony to balance herself as she moved towards the edge of it, she looked down to see the hopeful and desperate expression of the man she both hated and loved. Seeing her come into view, his face lit up with irrepressible delight, before quickly falling when she began to quickly turn away, book pressed protectively to her chest as she made to retreat to her room. She did not want to speak with him. 

Seeing her retreat, he quickly called out. 

"Please my love, please, I entreat you to let me explain what you overheard in the woods." 

Stopping where she was, she turned and moved once again back to the edge of the balcony. 

Speaking quietly and timidly, but not so much so that he could not hear her, accustomed as he was to listening for her quiet voice, she responded. 

"Please leave, I do not wish to speak with you now or henceforth. I can't understand why you are here now when you have made it abundantly clear that I myself am not what you seek. I would like you to leave."

Taking a deep, pained breath, Benjicot's expression underwent several changes before it became resolute and he stepped determinedly towards the pillar bolstering the balcony from the ground. 

Confused at his movements, Y/N became panicked when she realised he was climbing the pillar, frozen in position. It wasn't until he had swung his leg over the top of the balcony and had landed gracefully that she turned to flee, forgetting her injured ankle in the attempt, causing herself to stumble and hold onto a nearby pillar for support. Feeling gentle hands enclose around her elbows, she heard Benjicot speak quietly near her cheek. 

"Please don't run from me, my love. Your ankle is still injured. Please just allow me to help you." 

Looking down with concern at the ankle in question, he slowly, with great caution lest his lady should be offended, raised her arm around his neck and held her waist, fully supporting her weight so that he could place her on her chaise.  

Distressed to see his lady look away from him, her expression betraying embarrassment as well as displeasure, he knelt before her, bending his head low, before gently, reverently holding her hands in both of his own. 

"I will not disturb you further if you do not wish it, but I must convince you of the truth of my feelings for you and beg for your forgiveness for making you believe otherwise." 

Stopping him abruptly, Benjicot immediately desisted in deference to her speech, so important was anything she had to say to him, even if she meant only to order him away from her forever. 

Speaking quietly, she interrupted him. 

"I already heard what both you and my cousin said of me when you believed me not to be listening. I know that your protestations of love for me were all a ruse and that you were both in league together." 

Benjicot's expression betrayed the deep pain he felt at her response, drooping his head to rest it on her knees. 

"I can never apologise enough, nor beg for your forgiveness enough, for making you believe such a horrific notion. I had never spoken to your cousin of you before that dreadful moment, except when I first had the honour of meeting you. You were never just a bartering tool between us. I would break his legs if even tried to make such a suggestion. I had only meant to convey to him that I would repair the conflict between our houses so that in choosing me as your husband you would not also be choosing to abandon all that you knew. It is my mistake that I so brazenly worded my intent, my love." He added, casting his face down in desperation. 

"I have loved you since I first saw you sitting with your nose tucked into your histories under the Brackentree and have persued your love ever since. I have meant every word I have said to you since, and will continue to prove it to you in any way thay you will allow me."

His lady slightly turning towards him, Benjicot grew at once desperate and hopeful that she would listen to his entreaties, gripping her hands tighter in his as he raised his face to hers, hoping to convey the truth of his feelings in his eyes. 

"You speak very elegantly but I now know that you are so to all ladies and that this charade is not reserved for me alone." 

Reaching out to touch her face before quickly retracting his hand once he saw Y/N move away from him in discomfort, he instead responded. 

"Whilst I would consider myself to be a gentleman, there is only one lady I would traverse miles of enemy land and scale walls to get to." Saying this with a gentle smile, he continued to gaze upon her reverently. 

When she did not respond, he removed a brown leather volume from its place, stashed underneath his cloak. 

"I found this in my library and I thought it might be of interest to you." 

Hesitantly reaching to take the volume from his hand, she examined it before opening it. 

As she did so, he interposed "May I?" Pointing at the book. 

He turned the pages to an earmarked section, coloured with a rich illustration of a knight kneeling in homage before a queen. 

"This tells the story of a knight loyal to his queen above all else, swearing to protect, serve and..." He hesitated "love her for all of his life".

She gazed curiously down at the illustration in her hands as he spoke. 

"I thought you would like to have it, even should you order me away from your presence now. But I should like it to serve as an illustration of the devotion I feel towards you and as a reminder that I will always protect and adore you, even if only as your knight. Without any conditions. Without any expectation for you to love me in return. Just....let me adore you." He faltered staring up at her penitently, anxiously awaiting her response. 

It was a few agonising moments for Benjicot before Y/N raised her hand towards his shoulder, causing him to hold his breath lest he frighten her in his shock. Delicately placing her hand on his shoulder, she placed the other one on his other shoulder, causing him to subconsciously lean into her touch. 

Looking timidly away from him, she began to speak. 

"So you really did not mean that I was a...political tool." 

Leaning further towards her face, he quickly refuted such a notion. 

"I would thrash any man who suggested it. You are my lady, my love." 

Gazing into his eyes searchingly, she seemed to find what she sought in them, and leant her head gently upon his shoulder. 

Shocked, yet rejoicing at her affectionate gesture and in the comfort she seemed to look to from him, he lost no time in wrapping a protective arm around her waist, pulling her into his torso as he held her head gently in his other hand. Closing his eyes in relief, he held her like that for a few peaceful moments, scarcely believing that his love had forgiven him and that she had initiated their embrace. Taking it as a sign of the trust she had reinvested in him to protect her heart as well as her person, he solemnly swore in his own mind to guard it with more sucess than he had yet done as of late.

She pulled away too quickly for his liking, wishing as he did that she could always be so close to him.

"How did you even find your way here with impunity, let alone my balcony?"

Smirking at this, Benjicot threw his cloak dramatically over his shoulder to amuse her with his antics.

"I of course practiced great stealth, opting for a cloak and daggers approach."

Raising a disapproving eyebrow at him but with her mouth turned up at the corner, Benjicot rejoiced to have made her smile and to have amused her.

"In truth i just walked past the Red Ford and straight until i found Bracken Hall, i wasn't too worried about encountering any Bracken men. I'd just run them through if they tried to prevent me from reaching my Love. As far as finding your balcony goes, i was just blessed to see your pretty person upon it....and my good friend Robb also has an encyclopedic knowledge of Bracken Hall, having planned to storm it so many times." He added, slightly sheepishly.

Rolling her eyes at him, lightly swatting his chest.

"You're crazy."

Smirking again he rose to put his arm against the wall by her face, leaning his face towards hers.

"Crazy about you."

"And ridiculous," she added, laughing.

Reaching out to hold her chin gently in his other hand he leaned in further, before whispering in response "ridiculously in love with you", as his lips crashed onto hers, his arm moving to encircle her waist and support her weight as he did so.

Breaking the kiss, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, gazing up at her as if she were the sun. 

"Can i come and see you tomorrow?" He asked tentatively, unable to fully conceal his fear that she would still order him hence.

"I'd rather you didn't risk your life in such a dangerous attempt. I can always come to meet you."

Frowning at this, he stroked the back of her cheekbone with his nuckle. 

"You think i would allow my darling to cross that distance with an injured leg when i can cross it myself?"

Seeing her blush at his appellation, he smiled and reached forward to increase her blush by kissing the corner of her mouth.

"I think not. I have no fear of your Bracken bannermen. Although I do fear having to inform my disapproving lady love that i've despatched all of them because they tried to stop me from seeing her."

Benjicot walked away from his lady love's balcony that evening, not before blowing her a kiss, and silently rejoicing that she had forgiven him and permited him to remain in her presence and in her heart.

@lovebabe18-blog @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess @dancingbaek @aemondslove @cheendrella

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hope you don't mind my idea, I may be a bit biased towards soldier lads ^^;

If your working with Lethal Company, how about a situation where the reader isn't scared of the Nutcracker, but is crazy enough to try and befriend it cause they like the fairytale that much?

OOO this is a big brain idea-

Nutcrackers stress me out,,but oh to befriend them..

.....

With the quota constantly rising, you and your team had to take greater risks on moons with more hostile creatures roaming about....all for the sake of selling scrap.

You four had different roles: One was a scouter, the second a budget manager, the third a fighter (they never left the ship without a shovel or zap gun), and you manned the ship while everyone else explored the facilities.

You watched the monitors and chatted with them through walkie-talkies, alerting them to loot or danger.

Although you've saved their lives more times than you could count on both hands, you kinda got bored and wanted to help collect scrap yourself.

One day, the bestiary on the terminal gets updated with a new creature:

The Nutcracker.

Not long afterwards, everyone returned to the ship freaking the fuck out. Nobody died, and the loot was decent, but they were very much shaken-up by this "Nutcracker" entity they encountered.

It apparently had a shotgun that made them all nearly deaf upon firing AND came close to blowing their brains out.

Yet viewing its model on the terminal did awaken a little bit of childhood nostalgia in you, seeing as it looked like a life-sized nutcracker soldier.

Back on Earth, you loved that fairytale: The Nutcracker and the Mouse.

You even watched performances of the ballet/suite around Christmas.

Least to say, you weren't scared of it..and you wanted to actually see this entity for yourself.

Your team opposed it, until one employee mentioned their scanner registered the shotgun as scrap--and you volunteered to go retrieve it since it could set you above the quota.

Obviously you weren't gonna do that, but managed to convince them to let you go alone.

So you get teleported into the facility, almost immediately spotting the Nutcracker on its patrol, walking around like a true soldier and clicking as it surveyed its surroundings.

You notice the upper half of its head extending, revealing a grisly fleshy eye in its "mouth" as it rotated around.

Now you knew it was likely just a machine controlled by a parasite, but you were still fascinated by it nevertheless.

Then your walkie talkie goes off.

"Hurry up, we leave at midni-"

You instantly turn it off, yet the Nutcracker was alerted.

Next thing you knew, it swung around the corner you were hiding, loading two bullets into it shotgun as it stomped closer and closer...

That's when you got an insane idea and pulled out some items you've held onto since starting this job:

A hard copy of the original Nutcracker tale and a smaller figurine of the soldier.

They were comforts from your childhood. You'd never sell them as scrap. Not even if they're worth a million dollars.

You see the entity hesitate, before the eye reveals itself again and stares at your treasured collectibles.

"I-I always liked your stories and ballets.." You stammer out, still facing down the barrel of its gun, knowing death could await you at any moment. "Could we....maybe be friends, Nutcracker, sir?"

You doubt the damn thing could even understand you...

But then it suddenly shifts its focus back on you and raises its gun, opening fire-

Yet you don't drop dead.

Instead you hear the hiss of a Bracken who was mere centimeters away from snapping your neck, and you realize a bullet tore through one of its leaves.

It looked betrayed, but the Nutcracker's one-eyed glare sent it scurrying back into the shadows.

Apparently it was scared of brief eye contact from all creatures, not just humans.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

The Nutcracker...defended you?

You began to thank it for saving your life, but it's cut short when you're teleported back to the ship and your crew is relieved it's not your dead body.

Yet they'd call you crazy if you even implied that you somehow befriended the entity that just tried killing them all...

So you keep this secret locked away in your journal, wondering if there's other Nutcrackers out there who'd act like the one who saved you.

[naffeclipse]

Have you seen anything about Lethal Company? The idea of your cryptid lads watching over and protecting y/n while y/n looks for scrap in their territory makes me smile. They always make sure Y/n meets their quota to avoid any repercussions with The Company

I have seen so much about Lethal Company and this ask makes me go crazy because AUGH I've been chewing on a sort of AU with the DCA in a Bracken-esque role but, perhaps, a bit more interested in Y/N than a monster otherwise would be.

You're just a measly intern. That's all too clear with how the company sends you the utmost dangerous moons searching for loot and scrap. The hauntingly empty facilities and lifeless manors hold the keys to fulfilling your quota for the week, but you're not alone.

On the occasions when you get separated from your crew or find yourself left behind, you feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, aware of something—someone watching you. You carry a piece of scrap that most likely isn't worth the effort (but how could you return empty-handed?) The sinking feeling that, as much as you dread isolation, it would be safer than the near-silent footsteps following just behind you.

Your mouth grows dry. The pulse in your ears begins drowning the metallic echo of your picked-up pace, and then panic takes hold. You burst into a run, racing for the door, and when you frantically grab the handle, a cold, long-fingered touch seizes the cloth at the back of your neck before you throw yourself outside.

In the dusty air of the moon, you turn back to the door, now slammed shut. You drop the scrap to touch the back of your neck—the orange jumpsuit is torn into ribbons just below your helmet. Claws, you think. Claws so close to grabbing your neck and never letting go.

The next day, with only your flashlight and a walkie-talkie, one of your fellow interns abruptly cuts off mid-sentence (was that a scream or just the static crackling?) Left without even a voice for the company, your skin prickles with full-body goosebumps under the eerie weight of eyes watching you.

You turn slowly to look up the stairway you had just descended. The air in your lungs freezes. You clutch the flashlight tighter. Your helmet system blinks across your vision.

New creature data sent to terminal!

In the darkness engulfing the upper platform stands a dark figure with two piercing, white eyes. You whip up your flashlight and beam it on the terrifying being, catching strange frond-like petals of yellow surrounding a flat, disk-like face. Rooted to the floor in terror, you stare. It tilts its head, petals ruffled, in a snap of agitation. It grumbles low in warning.

You drop the walkie-walkie and run deeper into the darkness, your flashlight beam swinging over the walls with the pounding of your steps echoing horrendously through the deep belly of the facility. The primal instincts of your mind take hold, impulses firing to stay alive.

You come to a dead end. A lone light flickers along the ceiling. Cornered, your palms slamming against the bricked wall as if you could push it down, you start to tremble. You turn back, back pressed against the wall, your helmet softly clanking against the stone.

The beam of your flashlight cuts off. You drop that, too. A whimper of fear escapes you when a shadow moves at the end of the long hallway. Though darkly swathed, pale eyes pinning you in place, the figure crouches, creeping forward on hands and knees. The petals about its face have shifted, dropping to the back of the head and swinging down like a tapered tail. You can't look away. The creature tips its head to one side, the appendage trailing over its shoulder like a nightcap. It grumbles low, displeased.

You turn your head away, pressing deeper against the wall. Your every heartbeat is a swing of a sledgehammer chipping away at your ribcage. Bile rises in the back of your throat.

Then silence.

You clench your hands. Slowly, you carefully lift your eyes and gaze at the end of the hallway.

It's gone. The sunflower face and now nightcap head creature vanish like a bad dream in the morning.

You don't move for several seconds, and when you finally straighten and hug your shaking self, you carefully make your way through the darkness. The sinister awareness of being watched doesn't leave. It never does. You find an emergency exit. A chance to live yet. You feel something cold and heavy standing at your back.

You reach for the door when a large hand grabs the back of your neck. A scream jams itself in your throat. Breathless, frozen, you stand very still. It squeezes lightly as if testing the bones of your spine. Its shadow falls over you. Its other hand enters the corner of your vision, reaching for your face as if to smother you through the helmet. It begins tugging on your throat, pulling you away from the door.

"Stay... friend..." it rasps near-silently.

The flashlight in your grip is heavy. Before the creature captures your head, you throw it back at the beast. Light flares when the plastic hits, sparking with one drop of juice still left, and then you rip yourself free. A quiet grunt of pain echoed under the flash. You throw yourself outside, only turning back to slam the door and unwittingly catch a glimpse of the creature clutching its face. Petals twist and writhe around and behind its head in a clash of its early appearances. Between its long fingers, a face, half yellow and half dark with a static grin peeking out at the corners, twists in shock.

The resounding shut of the door reverberates in your head. You escaped. You gasp and clutch your chest. Somehow, your heart is still within you, fluttering like an injured bird in front of a cat. Your system sent new information to the bestiary catalog.

You keep breathing and unsteadily make your way back to the ship, carrying the searing imprint of the monster's hand on the back of your neck.

[labyrinthiancrossroads]

I Know I'm Just a Phase Chapter One: The Deal

Fandom: House of The Dragon

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Aeron Bracken

Rating: Mature+

Tags/Tropes: Fake/Pretend Dating, Modern Setting, College/University, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Pining, Angst, Vaction, Frat Boy Davos, Teasing, Banter, The Lads (Fire & Blood), Meeting the Parents

Summary: “What would I be getting out of it?” “Ah, yeah, that…well, I figured you might have fun wreaking havoc on the Bracken family and, uh, I honestly couldn’t think of something else you’d need from me so I thought you could tell me what you want in return?” “Like an ‘I owe you’ situation.” “Yeah, next time you need a favor you know I’ll get you, no matter what.” Davos hummed thoughtfully, “How about we go over the terms of this little arrangement and then I’ll tell you if I’m signing up for this nonsense."

---

or Aeron wants to get back at his family for not accepting him being gay so he decides to date someone who would piss them off for more than just being a boy - Davos Blackwood.

[justdavronthings]

davos, drunk with his blackwood mates: y'know, i've really met the one, fellas the blackwood lads: *drunkenly cheering and groaning in support* davos, slurring: —got this messy brown hair that's so soft... these hazel eyes, soft plump lips... and that nose one of the blackwood lads: she sounds great, mate davos, dreamily: yeah, he is the blackwood lads: what davos: what

[spider-stark]

my overall ranking so far

1. episode 2

2. episode 3

3. episode 1

this was the episode that stayed the furthest away from the original material (rhaenys wanting peace and not fighting for her house, septanyra meeting alicent, daenerys eggs being alluded to being from syrax, baela finding criston, the harrenhall taking), but if we ignore how they butchered the book, it is a good tv show. not a good adaptation, but a good tv show

but still… i went to sleep married and woke up a widow, what have they done to my boy blackwood lad #3 😭

anyways, i cannot wait what you put next, specially that now we got like 3 new seconds with his face on screen lmao. also, his growly voice??? it doesnt match him at all (part of me wants to think he tried to sound more manly for his character which is so cute) but it is soooo good to listen to???

Agreed that episode 2 was really good. I actually had minimal complaints about it and really enjoyed watching it.

but last nights.... I don't know. there were parts of it that were cool -- but there's more to complain about than to like, for me.

anyways - pour one out for my boy Blackwood #3 ig lmao. and catch me putting way too much detail in my fics in regard to his voice because OH MY GOD SAME??? didn't expect it -- but I certainly wasn't disappointed by it

would love to see some love for the Bracken boy, tho lmao loyal to House Blackwood til the day I die and all, but the Bracken Knight would've had me questioning my morals

[atopvisenyashill]

Once again making family trees, partially inspired by this post here. I was just trying to throw in as many muppet names as possible really.

Grover wants them to side with the Greens so I gave him a Bracken wife bc they initially wanted to side with them. I also think the continued cousin on cousin slapfights are funny. Imagine being cousins to the Lord Paramount and they still choose to side with the Blackwoods.

Elmo gets a Piper wife because he resents his grandfather for living so long, knew he’d choose to back Aegon the moment the boy was born, so he married another Rhaenyra loyalist so the blacks would have support in the Riverlands.

Kermit marries Sabitha Frey’s daughter Elayna because he loves his Lads and Sabitha is a Lad. He has a son, Wembley, named after the Fraggle.

Oscar starts the Stormbreakers (that part is canon) and marries a rich noblewoman in Braavos. He has two children, Breha and Kylan, both named after Gelflings from Dark Crystal. Kylan, being a cadet branch born in Essos, married Vale heiress and uses his contacts from Essos to get them both FILTHY rich. Breha married a Reacher. Why? Because I wanted the girls to have Muppet names and I thought "Fossie" as a nickname for Fossoway (aka Fozzie Bear) worked AND I found another reacher house called Risley and I thought that worked for "Rizzo" (aka Rizzo the Rat).

Wembley marries a Dustin - the book mentions that both the Blackwoods and Tullys benefit from the Northerners who stay in the Riverlands so I figured part of that benefit is, ya know, brides! I chose Dustin since Roddy the Ruin was a Dustin and it feels likely he’d have several younger sons or grandsons that stayed for a time in the Riverlands. Wembley’s son is canon because we know there’s a Medgar Tully in The Hedge Knight who has a six year old son.

Medgar dies and leaves his eight year old son as Lord Tully. In canon, they describe the boy as being “surrounded by women” so I gave him a shitton of aunties (like Fossie and Rizzo). Oscar’s descendants through Breha come back to the Riverlands to influence their very little cousin, as do Wembley’s many daughters!

Zooey Shawney is a reference to Zoe from Sesame Street.

Pink Missy Crakehall or Melissa Crakehall was fascinated with her cousin’s stories of Tyroshi fashion and was known to dye her hair pink, hence the name. Yes this is a Miss Piggie Reference.

Janys Keath aka Janice from Doctor Teeth’s Electric Mayhem

Red Rose Smallwood is supposed to be both Red the Fraggle and Rosita from Sesame Street.

Large Marvin is also a Fraggle!!

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Another reason as to why the Greens are obviously the villainous side:

After Rhaenyra’s death, the Greens had a chance to sue for peace and end the war for good.

Think about it. They were in the advantage after Rhaenyra’s death, were they not? The war was not over of course, but the Black armies were destabilized after the death of their Queen (even though they still had a contender to place on the throne in case of victory - Rhaenyra’s son, Aegon).

Aegon the Usurper and Alicent could have tried to make peace with the Houses who supported Rhaenyra. They could have sent peace terms, if they cared about the Realm, especially the smallfolk. If they had, there was also a good chance that they could have been declared the winners of the Dance.

But that’s not what they did.

Aegon the Usurper committed plenty of acts of cruelty against many Lords of the Realm, executed a whole bunch, something which started turning Houses against him. The most notable switch from Greens to Blacks came from House Bracken. It baffles me how certain people claim that Aegon would have been a better ruler than Rhaenyra. Look at all he’s done after his rival was gone.

And what’s more, Alicent encouraged her son’s acts.

The Green Council was insisting for Aegon to name Rhaenyra’s son his heir, as another chance at peace. And it would have been an obvious decision to make (for a reasonable person who wanted to make peace and end the war). If the Greens followed the male primogeniture principle, they were forced to accept Rhaenyra’s son as next in line to the throne, and not Aegon’s remaining daughter, Jaehaera (Ironic, huh?). This was actually one of Corlys’ conditions for accepting to join the Green Council but Aegon and Alicent both thought it outrageous.

Aegon NEVER named Rhaenyra’s son his heir, he abused him and threatened to make him a eunuch.

Alicent herself suggested that her insane son cut off Aegon the Younger’s ear as a warning to the remaining Black armies.

So not only did Aegon and Alicent refuse to make peace after Rhaenyra’s death, but they also reignited the flames of war.

After Aegon the Usurper failed to hatch new dragon eggs, while Rhaena’s own dragon egg hatched, the Blacks perceived this as a sign which meant that there was still hope for victory. Lord Cregan Stark, the Lads and Lady Jeyne Arryn gathered their forces. The Blacks permanently defeated the green armies and marched to King’s Landing to depose the usurper and crown their own contender, Aegon the Younger.

So I don’t want to hear any more bullshit about how much the Greens cared about the people. They were motivated by nothing but greed and were pure evil as far as I am concerned. Alicent, her father and all of her sons. Evil.

The first betrayal of the people was usurping the throne, stopping the natural transition of power from King Viserys to Queen Rhaenyra, and plunging the Realm into war.

The second betrayal of the people was accepting the Triarchy (an enemy of the entire Realm) as an ally.

The third was refusing to make peace after Rhaenyra’s death.

The greens got what was coming to them, the whole lot of them. The only thing that I would have changed about their fates, would have been to have Alicent be the last of her faction to die, so she could watch her entire treacherous bloodline vanish. She deserved to remain locked up, broken up, out of her mind, suffering, all alone in the world, contemplating all of the choices she made in her pitiful life.

[goodqueenaly]

What is your understanding or imagining of the nature of House Ironwood’s support for the Blackfyres? Obviously they’re old enemies of the Martells, but were they effectively betraying all of Dorne by fighting to install an anti-Dornish regime that would place them as Lords Paramount over a more oppressed and forcibly assimilated Dorne? Or could there have been an arrangement where Daemon (or his successor) would give up Dorne to Yronwood rule in order (on the Blackfyre side) to de-Dorneify the rest of Westeros, and return to the old status quo for the Marcher Lords and Reach fighting the border Dornish as their enemies; and Yronwood could position themselves as liberators vs the Martells who “gave up Dorne to the Iron Throne”?

I tend to agree with @racefortheironthrone that House Yronwood wanted, and sought, in Daemon Blackfyre was a rewriting of the political playbook in Dorne which put them, the Yronwoods, on top. To say that House Yronwood has historically resented its secondary position in Dorne under the Martells is perhaps among the greatest of all Westerosi understatements: this is a family whose patriarchs have for the better part of a millennium styled themselves "the Bloodroyal", after all, an open reminder of their illustrious past and a claim to dynastic, if not currently executive, primacy. Daemon's would-be regime attracted other vassal families posed to be rivals to their local liege lords - the Sunderlands, the Reynes and Tarbecks, the Brackens and Freys, especially the Peakes - and the Yronwoods fit squarely in this model; a new dynasty on the Iron Throne would be perfectly positioned to raise new Houses to replace those which had supported the no-good-very-bad Daeron Falseborn, including House Yronwood.

I don't think Daemon could, or would, have agreed to surrendering Dorne, even temporarily. Since the days of Aegon the Conqueror, the Targaryen kings had used the title "King of the Rhoynar", proclaiming a hereditary right to rule Dorne. Indeed, Daemon drew his support in no small part from those "[k]nights and lords of the Dornish Marches" who "began to look more and more to the old days, when Dornishmen were the enemy to fight, not rivals for the king's attention or largesse". To suggest that he would abandon the "ancestral" Targaryen (now Blackfyre) claim to Dorne might well appear, at least to these factions, even worse a betrayal than the actions of Baelor and Daeron II: this was a king who was not only not pursuing that claim, but was acknowledging the right of Dorne to exist as an independent political entity, without the Iron Throne as its suzerain. Instead, I think Daemon agreed to make the Yronwoods Lords - specifically Lords - Paramount of Dorne, in exchange for bending the knee to him as king.

The political trick, of course, would have been how Daemon could square his alliance with and promotion of House Yronwood within Dorne with his power base among those Reach and Stormlands families who advocated for war and conquest in Dorne. Daemon could not in good faith ally with the Yronwoods, then say "alright lads, now time to plunder Dorne wholesale", but nor could he ignore the desire for conquest among his supporters. Perhaps Daemon would have sold future war in Dorne as something of a First Dornish War 2.0, now with the assistance of a pro-Blackfyre family within Dorne to help the Iron Throne and its vassals carve up the holdings of the traitorous Martells and their allies. Perhaps he would have also played up the racial/xenophobic angle, specifically against the Martells and other "salty" Dornishmen, by arguing that the Yronwoods - "that house of blue-eyed blondes", in the words of Quentyn Martell, among those Dornish families who "have the most in common with those north of the mountains and are the least touched by Rhoynish custom" - were in fact true-blue First Men Westerosi unfortunately separated by geopolitical borders, and that the real enemies were those Martells with their foreign, Rhoynish blood.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Thirteen.

It's back at last! Most people have probably moved on, but for those who haven't, here you go.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,400

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

The spring sun melted orange into the Warwickshire landscape, bathing the rain-sprinkled grass in a glitter of orange, John moving the horse he was aboard a little quicker into a gentle trot.  

“Pull back on the reins, slow him down,” he advised his daughter, seated atop Rufus, her beloved pony. “That’s it, pige. Don’t want him running off on ya again.”  

The spritely pony had taken it upon himself to set off at a canter a little earlier in their ride out over the grounds of Arrow House, John moving Bracken forward to catch up with her and bring the tiny steed to a stop. At least Katie had found it funny. Him? He’d had several heart attacks, thinking his little girl was about to be planted into the turf.  

t himself to be much of a riding, hunting, fishing type of country living man, but in the three months since the pony had been gifted to his little girl, it had been the only place she’d wanted to be of a weekend. John surprised himself by loving the change in routine, with only one lingering regret. His wife wasn’t by his side while he was enjoying his new-found country gentleman pursuits. Such was the way, though, being married to a vampire. 

“We have to hurry, daddy,” Katie enthused, the top of Arrow House coming into view upon the horizon. “Mommy will be awake soon.” Yes, in the three months since their marriage, the Bryn part had been dropped, his darling solely referred to as mommy now to his little girl. Their little girl. He wasn’t sure how Martha would take to it, should he be able to tell his late wife that the woman her daughter now called mommy was an undead creature of the night. He often thought she’d soften to see just how devoted to Katie Bryn was, though.  

“Mommy I did a canter!” The child called with joy, seeing her appear around the corner as they rode onto the stable block. “I weren’t supposed to, but I did!” 

One of the stable lads helped her down, another taking Bracken from John, Katie running into her Bryn’s open arms. “You are certainly turning into quite the horsewoman aren’t you, my little love?”  

“I’m going to be a jockey when I grow up!” 

John snorted immediately, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “You bloody ain’t.” 

Katie was resolute. “I am, daddy! I’m going to ride Rufus in the Grand National!” 

“You’d have to put him on springs to jump them fences, pige. They’re twice the size of you,” he commented, kissing his wife’s cheek as they walked around to the house.  

“Then the blacksmith can do it, next time he has his new shoes!” Her assertion had her parents laughing softly, Bryn taking her inside to get her fed and ready for bed, John standing on the doorstep for a few moments, enjoying the quiet.  

Sadly, it was a peace not to last.  

“John boy, I’ve called a family meeting. Arthur and Polly will be here within the hour,” Tommy spoke, John turning to view his elder brother, noticing the slightly wide-eyed look that was returned. “I’ve just had Dogs on the phone, and it wasn’t with good news.”  

John nodded, following him in, heading into Tommy’s office where they sat in wait for the other Shelby’s, Bryn joining them too once she’d gotten Katie tucked up in bed.  

“Well, it seems the peace we’ve enjoyed since New Year has come to an abrupt halt, courtesy of the Rasmussen family,” Tommy began, delivering the statement each person knew would be coming sooner or later. Indeed, it had been much, much too quiet on that front of late.  

“Johnny Dogs called me this afternoon, he and a few of the Lee’s are on their way here to make camp on my grounds. What’s left of the Lee’s, I should say. Over the last three nights, four Lee camps have been attacked, good men and innocent women shot while they slept, wagons burned out, and a message left with those who survived. Hand Brynhild over and you get to live, was what they were told by the Rasmussen force who brought the attack. That shan’t be happening, needless to say. Once they arrive, though, they’re gonna want some assurances, some resolve.” 

Arthur grunted, running a hand down his face. “Can’t be that fucking many of ‘em left by now. I say we take the fight up north and finish ‘em all off.”  

“It’s a good idea, Arthur,” Tommy began, lighting a cigarette, perhaps the fifteenth he’d smoked since Johnny’s call, “but unfortunately, they’ve managed to secure extra manpower, aka every single gypsy family not associated with us, all banded together in attempt to bring down who they perceive to be the greater threat. Bryn, Johnny fought your corner, and you’ve to be thankful for that, met with a couple of the lads and stated the only interest you have here is to continue your life quietly as an art dealer, wife and mother, that your existence posed them absolutely no threat. He just about got away from that meeting with his life intact.”  

Bryn closed her eyes, nodding deeply as it hit her in waves. Innocent people dying, all because of the prejudice she faced, all because of what she was, and not who she was. The anger and upset collided within, John of course picking up on it, his hand moving to stroke the back of her neck supportively. At her side, Polly reached to grasp her hand, and in that moment, she was truly, truly thankful.  

At least she had a family who loved her in all of this. 

“Ain’t your fault, bab,” John spoke, reaching for his pocket square so she could dab away her tears.  

Polly’s sentiments echoed. “He’s right, love. I won’t hear of anything different said, that you can be bloody sure of.”  

Bryn sighed, composing herself as she sat ramrod straight, her jaw tightening. “It is, though. It is my fault. I am the course of this battle, of this death now within the Lee family. Our strikes against them have been huge, and they should have been enough. There must be some solution here, we have to be better, fight harder, but I do not see a way. They are like a fucking swarm, ever multiplying!” 

“Then we up our numbers and fucking fight ‘em back twice as hard. That’s what we do, and we don’t fucking give up until every last one of ‘em is dead,” Polly vouched staunchly. 

“Here fucking here!” Arthur spoke, pouring himself a drink. 

Tommy’s eyes flitted between them, lifting his chin. “Whatever strike we plan, it has to be with the Lee’s co-operation, but something tells me we’re gonna have to work our arses off for that in light of this. Securing their alliance ain’t gonna be easy.” 

Oh, how he wasn’t wrong. When the eleven wagons finally arrived at close to 11pm that night, the remaining gypsies of the family all filed into Arrow House behind the brand-new head of the family. Lachlan Lee looked thunderous, a large dressing applied to his neck, a war wound from his brush with the Rasmussen’s concealed beneath. They were ushered into the drawing room, the tall gypsy nodding curtly at everyone present, his stare cold when his eyes took in the woman he guessed to be Brynhild Shelby.  

“Lads, now.” Without further word, the six men who had entered the room with him drew their guns, pointing them at right at their shadow walker target. “Get off your cold, dead arse and come with us. You are the sole fucking reason why we had to say goodbye to our family en masse. You started this, so now we’re fucking ending it by giving the Rasmussen’s what they want. If you don’t, you have seven silver bullet filled guns coming for ya. Get up. Now.” 

“Lachlan, put your guns down and let’s talk,” Tommy began, walking into the middle of the room, hands held wide. “Come on. Nothing good will come of this, now.”  

Both of his brother’s had drawn their own weapons despite being outnumbered, Bryn standing, resting a hand to John’s shoulder.  

“Darling, lower your gun.” 

He sniffed, unflinching. “Until they stop pointing them at you, I ain’t doing shit.” 

“Lads, lower your guns. That goes for my lads, too. Everyone take a breath, for the love of Christ!” Polly advised staunchly, her eyes swivelling between all the men. “Come on. You all know who my grandmother was. Our family alliance goes back fucking generations, let’s honour it better than this.”  

Lachlan paused, his thoughts ticking behind the stern stare of his coal-dark eyes, finally lowering his weapon. A gesture with his hand had his men all doing the same, guns stashed away within their belts once again.  

“Now everyone is calm,” Polly then spoke, her words dying in the air when within a blink, she saw Lachlan grabbed, Bryn holding him by the arm and throat, her rage pulsing thickly. “Shit, Bryn! No!”  

Unfortunately, the newest Mrs. Shelby was a little too irate to listen. 

“You have the fucking gall to walk into this home, the home of my brother and sister-in-law and accuse me of being the monster?” she spat, her grip tightening to the point where Lachlan could no longer struggle against it, his heart hammering with fear. “I am not the one who shot your family as they slept. I am not the one who set your wagons alight. I am merely the one who simply wishes to exist upon this earth as I have for centuries without being hunted and without any further death coming because of that simple desire.” 

Lachlan drew a hissed breath, glaring at her. “And I desire nothing but to keep what’s left of me fucking family safe, and if that means delivering you to them bound in silver, then by god, woman, you can fucking bet that’s what I’m gonna do!”  

The situation was spinning out of control with the kind of rapidity that had both families shouting from either side, Bryn being told to calm down, other members of the Lee’s urged to put their weapons down. The men did not pay those pleas any mind, though. Especially when the vampire they had arrived to take opened her mouth, her fangs bared.  

One man and one man alone had the bravery to stand his ground, though. The one who knew her best, the one who saw that his own ire now being matched in double by his wife was perhaps not the best way to bring the fracas to an end.  

“Brynhild!” John’s bark made her pause immediately, although the rattle of her growl persisted, Bryn eyeing him dangerously. “Don’t you bloody dare growl at me, woman. Put your fucking teeth away and let him go.”  

More growling persisted. 

“I ain’t fucking messing around here. Teeth away and put him down. Now. This ain’t the way we work through it, love. Come on. You’re better than this.” 

Polly winced, knowing that for all her bravery, she would never have the mettle to stand up to a thousand plus year old vampire. As for Bryn herself, a streak of unintelligible words left her lips, her frown deepening. 

“Oh no, bab,” John snorted, pointing his finger, “don’t you fucking cuss me in Norwegian and think I don’t know what it means.” She had been teaching him her native tongue, after all, John choosing to adopt it as he delivered his next statement. “Gjør som jeg sier. Nå.” 

Perhaps it was his overall sternness, the fact he’d been the only human ever to truly stand up to her, or the fact he’d told her to do as he said in her own language, but Bryn finally receded her fangs and let her captive go. In the end, she respected John too highly as her husband to let the wildness within her win, no matter how much his chiding of her had proved irritating. The truth was, he’d like nothing more than to let her savagery run wild after the way Lachlan had acted, but they couldn’t forget what had brought them there, the common enemy.  

“All of this fucking shit needs to stop, right fucking now!” Arthur barked, his eyes finding Bryn’s with a little nod. She smiled, silently answering his question of whether she was okay. “This, all this shit ‘ere, it’s exactly what that bunch of fucking northern cunts want, us at war with each other. We should be taking the war to them! Can’t none of you see that?” 

“All I can see if that you’ve betrayed your roots for that cold, dead bitch who just put her fucking hands on me!” Lachlan raged, beginning to pace. “Forgotten who you are, what you came from, the fucking lot of you’s!” 

“Just because we swapped the wagon for the brick and mortar, it don’t mean we’re not the same, still. We’ve never forgotten that. What we also can’t forget here, lads, is that once we had a pact with the shadow walkers. They took care of us until we sold ‘em out for profit, until the Rasmussen’s came and hunted them all down, eradicated them,” Polly spoke sternly, making John swell with pride. She’d once been the person he’d had to win over back when Bryn had first time into their lives, and now there she was, standing firm as one of her biggest supporters. 

Lachlan’s left eye narrowed, his mouth pinching through thinned lips. “I still don’t trust her kind, Polly.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I do. She’s a Shelby, she’s my niece now, for heaven’s fucking sakes! I trust her with my life, as should you. She isn’t the threat we have to face. It’s them who's after her we need to band together against, before there’s any more senseless deaths!” 

“And if we hand her over to Edward Rasmussen, it all ends. Best plan of action, if you ask me. Isn’t your fucking family being gunned down at they sleep, is it? Isn’t your family having the bejesus blown out of yer wagons, is it?”  

“Touch a single hair on her head, Lachlan,” John warned, his hand grasped firmly upon his wife’s shoulder, “and you ain’t gonna come out of it well, son. Fucking promise you that, I do.”  

Lachlan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, so it’s a war with the Lee’s you’re looking for, eh, lad? Got not a grain of sense in that thick head of yours, no? Can’t have had much there to begin with, though, getting yourself wed to a fucking corpse.”  

Even Tommy winced slightly at that one, John’s hand gripping Bryn as the eerie rattle of her growl began to faintly sound through the air. “Calm down. Don’t give him what he wants.” he discreetly whispered, hand moving to squeeze her thigh. He then turned to the gypsy. “We don’t want no fucking war with anybody but the Rasmussen family, but I won’t sit here while you threaten my wife. No. Don’t fucking matter what you think of her, we’ve gotta stick together on this.” 

A silence followed, Lachlan finally taking a seat, his eyes not leaving Bryn. Especially when she opened her mouth and began to speak. 

“Lachlan, please do tell me this. If you had not been so cruelly attacked by the Rasmussen’s, what would you know of me? Other than the fact that I am John’s wife?” 

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “That you’re a fucking shadow walker.” 

“Correct, I am. Now tell me when that piece of information last posed a threat to you or your family, from me personally?” 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You never have.”  

A deliberately cloy smile tilted her rosy lips. “So why am I a threat now, hmm? Because they say so? Yes, the Rasmussen’s tell you that I alone am a threat, yet they are the ones to murder your family and promise more unless you hand me over to them. Seems you have gotten your wires crossed over whom it is you truly should be forming an alliance against.”  

He was just about to reply when the door was pushed open, little Katie appearing in her nightdress, teddy bear in her grasp. “Mommy, I heard shouting.”  

Bryn was out of her seat and softened in an instant. “My little love, all is well here. Come now, let me tell you another story and get you settled once more.” Lifting the child into her arms, she kissed her cheek, stroking her hair fondly as she left the room without further word.  

John nodded in her wake. “Yeah, really fucking dangerous, ain’t she?” A long silence followed, the men trying to reconcile the predatory beast they’d seen fly at Lachlan with the loving mother who had just taken her daughter from the room in her arms. “All sarcasm aside, yeah, my wife is deadly, but only when she has to be. When she’s forced to be. If only you fucking knew the half of it, what she’s had to endure over the centuries, ‘cos of the Rasmussen’s.”  

Tommy cleared his throat, scanning the room. Luckily, the tide seemed to be turning a little, the faces of the Lee’s a little less pinched with anger and resentment, more men taking seats as they visibly relaxed. “I think Brynhild articulated herself very well, gentleman. If she’s given you no cause for concern so far, then why ally with her enemy against her when they’re the ones who’ve harmed you? Makes no fucking sense.”  

“You would bloody say that. Biased, you are,” one of the older men mumbled, his eyes narrowing.  

Tommy inclined his head a little in his direction, his face remaining set. “Of course, I am. She’s family. As long as her surname is Shelby, she’ll be looked after.” 

“Too fucking right,” Arthur chimed, sinking his whiskey, giving John a nod he reciprocated.  

Lachlan took a deep breath through his nose, pushing to his feet once more. “So, how do you fellas propose we deal with these Rasmussen lads then, eh?” 

Ideas were bounced back and forth, tempers running hot, the Shelby’s being put in impossible positions by the Lee’s, Bryn overhearing it all from upstairs as she was joined by a friendly face. 

“Surely, with few of them left, couldn’t you just travel north and take them all out by yourself?” Grace put to her, her voice kind. “I mean, I’ve seen the speed you move at, Bryn. They literally would never see you coming.”  

The vampire closed her eyes, wincing slightly as she remembered back to her incarceration. The pain, her screams. The screams of her children. “I cannot, Grace. I do not know how many allies would be awaiting me. They keep themselves so well guarded, after all. For good reason, too. Me being that reason.”  

The other Mrs. Shelby sighed, placing a loving hand to her sister-in-law's wrist. “I wish to god there could be some simple way to end this all, I really do. I’d bloody understand if you were out there actively hunting them, picking them off one by one. You aren’t, though. You’ve only ever defended yourself against them coming for you.” 

Bryn appreciated Grace’s kindness, her hand covering hers. “Prejudice runs very deep with these people, and my desire to survive even deeper than that. This is why they shall never cease.” 

Deciding not to go back into the meeting, she kissed Grace’s cheek goodnight, instead going out into the cold night, wandering around to the stable block after visiting the kitchen, a stack of carrots in her grasp. 

“There you are, lovely girl,” she spoke to Tommy’s beloved coloured cob, a mare named River. “You are such a beautiful thing, yes you are.” The horse crunched through her treat, happy to have her black and white neck patted, Bryn comforted by her warmth and scent. She then moved down the line, feeding all of them in turn, Rufus delighting her with his impatience as he kicked his stable door. “Young man, you have better manners than this!” 

The pony whickered at her, craning his neck over the stable door, Bryn feeding him his treat and stroking his soft fur before she moved to the last horse, the large steed John had ridden earlier that evening. “Hello, Bracken. Oh, such a pretty face, yes! Here, you enjoy.”  

Her senses picked up on the arrival of another before he entered the stable block, Bryn leaning back into her husband’s embrace when he arrived with her. “Was there a resolve?” 

He sniffed, hands idly stroking her wait. “Tommy was on about some kind of meeting between the Rasmussen’s, us and the Lee’s, see if he could make Edward budge at all on it. Tried to tell ‘em that it wouldn’t work, but they ain’t about to bring a fight they’re fucking outnumbered in. He said it’d be best we move in here for a bit, like, keep the family together. The Lee’s are camping in the grounds for the forseeable an’ all. Said we’d go home tomorrow and pack some stuff, after I’d cleared it with you.” 

“I think Tommy is correct, that is a very good idea for us to remain here as a family,” she spoke, turning to kiss his cheek. “It means our little tot gets to spend time with her pony, and in lieu of her going to school, I can give her lessons, force my waking a little earlier to do so, or remain awake a little later.”  

In all of this, it was Katie whom her thoughts went to first, and John couldn’t help but be touched at that, what a good woman he’d married. “No matter what’s to come, bab, we’ll get it all sorted. We’ve got to, because I ain’t losing you to nobody.” 

Turning, she stroked his face, kissing him fondly. “Good, because I am going nowhere.” 

That evening, they decided to head back to Birmingham and pack, Bryn getting the bulk of it done while John slept, joining him in their bed just before dawn. While she was absconded to her vampiric rest, he kissed her head lovingly, stroking her dark curls before getting up and dressed, Small Heath bound. There, he met his brother’s, giving orders to the assembled members of the Blinders to be on the lookout for anything nefarious, that the enemy was very likely coming.  

“Unless they have the surname Shelby or Lee, that enemy could be anyone. I want vigilance and nothing less than, lads,” Tommy advised to the assembled group at the bookie's office. “Be on your guard constantly. The worst of this fight is yet to come.” 

Once they’d all filed out, Tommy strode to his office, John tailing after him. “Tom, what the fuck are we gonna do? From where I’m fucking standing, there’s only one solution, and I swear to god, right, I’ll fucking die meself before I hand over me wife to ‘em.” 

Lighting a cigarette, Tommy seated himself. “Do you trust me, John?” 

A puzzled frown creased his freckled forehead. “Fuckin’ ‘course, I do. Why?” 

“Then trust that I have a plan in motion. I can’t say no more than that, but trust me, right? All of this shall end. I’ll get us out of this.” Sitting back in his chair, the wood creaked, the azure of his eyes glinting through the plume of cigarette smoke. “Don’t ask me how. All I ask of you is that you trust me as your brother, and never let that trust waver. Do you understand me, John boy?” 

“I do, yeah,” he spoke, although the cryptic delivery of Tommy’s words somewhat irked him. 

“Good. Now, there’s a tonne of bookkeeping I want you to finish off here before we all return to Arrow House. Get it all done before you go and collect your wife. I’ll meet you back at the house later tonight.”  

With that, Tommy rose from his seat, pressing a hand into John’s shoulder as he passed him by, his eyes not meeting his. John was still baffled somewhat, but he trusted that if Tommy had a plan in hand, then it was a good one. One he needed not interfere with until he would likely be brought into the fold at some point.  

He did as he’d been tasked, returning to the betting shop floor and working away until gone 6pm before he made the drive back to Little Aston, his eyes rounding to see both the gate and the front door wide open upon arrival. Leaving his car parked awkwardly, he ran for the house, no disarray to be found.  

“Bryn?” No reply. He took the stairs two at a time, shouting his wife’s name over and over, checking the bedroom, the bathroom, every bloody room. Nothing. One noise did become audible, though, once he had gone back downstairs. Entering the kitchen, he found the source of the muffled shouts, a bound and gagged Albert lying on the floor, John seeing red. 

Pulling the gag from his mouth, he yanked the gun from his holster, his hand gripping the old man’s throat. “Where is she?” 

“I, I don’t know,” he stammered, John’s grip tightening. 

“Listen to me, you fucking snivelling old prick. Ancient family alliance or not, if you don’t fucking tell me right now, I swear to fuck, I will empty my gun in your fucking skull! Now tell me, where the fuck is my fucking wife?” he bellowed, rage coursing through him. “And you’d better fucking tell me where I can find those fucking Rasmussen bastards an’ all, because you let them in here, into our home, where she thought she was safe. Fucking stupid old prick, you know better than to let anyone who ain’t family in!” 

“It wasn’t the Rasmussen’s! Please, sir, please!” he wailed, falling apart right in front of his very eyes, John not caring an ounce.  

“Then who the fuck was it? You’ve got five seconds, mush, or I blow your brains all over the fucking tiles!”  

Albert snivelled, grimacing in pain as the tight fist clenched harder, yet the words he hissed were as unmistakable as they were unbelievable. “Your brother!” 

Nothing could have prepared John for hearing that.