#theon greyjoy x oc x robb stark

[mcrco]

THE HEART'S GHOST / Chapter 1

"If she had known what the future had in store for her and the pain she would live through, perhaps she would have cherished each moment with her lovers more."

Robb x Theon x FEMOC. To be tagged in future updates, just lemme know.

Banner and page breaks made by @diviines

Golden eyes like a cat's are all that is seen of a face hidden behind a mask. She stands, watching the approach of the Greyjoy siblings and her heart threatens to leap into her throat. 

She has lived and died and lived again, reborn anew in her own body but past lives still clutch at her heart like ghosts that haunt as she lays eyes on Theon Greyjoy.

They're here to make an alliance with Danaerys, she is sure, but still she hasn't laid eyes on him since the time in which Robb was alive. She had believed him dead all these years.

She knows he doesn't recognize her, not with the mask on. The memories from before still flood her mind…

Swords clashed far too loudly in the darkening woods around them. The sound of metal against metal resounded in a clang and Theon took the opportunity to use the momentum of their swords coming together to push her off her balance.

Elysande stumbled backwards, landing hard on her behind amidst the summer snow and Theon let out a laugh. His laugh usually warmed her but in moments like this, it only served to annoy.

"Cheat!" She claims as she picks up the practice sword and comes back to her feet. "Dishonorable cheat!" 

His laughter fades but the smile on his lips doesn't. "It's not cheating and it's not dishonorable. You just don't like to lose."

Her cheeks burned red and her gaze fell to the ground at her feet, proving that he was correct in his words.

"Come, give me your sword. Best we get back before it's too late and someone notices a missing lady," Theon didn't give her a chance to offer the practice sword up, favoring to yank it from her hands.

He had only agreed to teach her to use sword and bow because he reveled in breaking the rules from time to time. It was his way of pretending he wasn't a prisoner of the Starks.

Elysande had been in the North longer than Theon. Unlike him, she wasn't a prisoner but instead a guest. Her mother had been close to Catelyn when they were children, a beautiful Southern woman who had died in childbirth. Her father died not long later during Robert's Rebellion.

With nowhere to go, Catelyn had packed up the newborn Elysande and brought her along to Winterfell when she married Ned Stark. 

It was almost funny to think that she could bring a child from outside of their relationship to their family but that Ned could not. Though Elysande understood that Lady Catelyn's dislike of Jon was due to the embarrassment he brought her. A reminder that her husband had cheated. 

Unlike Jon, Elysande was no bastard. Though she hailed from a small and usually forgotten House that resided in Riverrun. Sworn allies to House Tully and Elysande was the last of her House.

She had found some sort of kinship with Theon when he arrived in Winterfell, all those years ago. They were both, in a way, outsiders to the North. Though his story and his life were more tragic than her's. She and Robb had immediately taken to the task of befriending Theon and both had succeeded.

Perhaps it was no surprise that both had given their hearts, somewhere along the line, to the Ironborne.

"C'mon," he says, already beginning the walk out of the woods, headed back to the castle and it's warmth. "Guide the way before I trip on a branch."

House Faelis was small and relatively unnoticed in the scheme of things but there was one peculiarity about them: golden eyes like a cat's ran through the house bloodline. Their eyes saw better than most other's, especially when it came to seeing in the dark.

A smile of her own slides into place and if Theon could see it in the fast growing darkness he would have recognized the mischief there. 

She darts ahead of him, stopping quickly right before him and leans up on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Have fun in the dark, Theon," she whispers and before he can register what she's planning, she's already darted off.

She considered this her payback for being pushed into the snow. 

As she darts into the castle, Theon left far behind to make his own way, it's Robb that greets her.

He knows where she and Theon have been, probably made excuses to cover for them too. "One day a wildcat is going to eat him and you'll be sorry that you abandoned him in the dark," teases Robb.

"If you're so worried then go and find him," comes her reply and she lets out a little laugh. "I'm retiring to bed, I think I've had a long enough day." She gives Robb a curtsey and turns to leave him behind. "Though it is quite cold tonight due to the summer snows. If I awake to warm bodies beside me, I shan't be upset."

In the darkness of her room, much later in the night, she awakes to the sound of her door creaking open. Theon approaches her bed from one side and Robb from the other. She sees them in the darkness clearer than either can see her.

Theon slides into her bed from the left and Robb from the right and she smiles. She is warm between the two men and she is safe.

This is a secret that the three of them keep. A relationship that they know is doomed. Each will be married off one day, Elysande will be lucky if her match is with either though she doubts it. Because of this they refrain from speaking of futures.

"Shitty little move you pulled earlier," whispers Theon in her ear. ""Suppose Robb and I should punish you for it?

She feels his hands roaming across her chest and she almost lets out a giddy laugh. "Perhaps you should," she agrees.

The hardest part of their secret was keeping quiet when they're all together like this. 

Theon is quick to tug off her night dress, his eyes staring into her golden yellow ones. Her pupils become slits and he presses a kiss to her throat, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens.

Robb's lips find their way across her shoulders, ghosting her with soft kisses like the touch of butterfly wings. 

They've both learned her body - have mapped it out together over and over again. Tonight they will do it again, just like they will as far as the future allows.

When she wakes she is naked and alone. They can't risk staying until morning and getting caught in her bed, she knows this and yet it saddens her regardless.

Her body is sore and littered with bitemarks and bruises that will be hidden under her clothing until they heal. She runs the pads of her fingertips over bitemarks across her chest and smiles. 

For now both Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy belong to her.

Behind her mask she closes her eyes. If she had known what the future had in store for her and the pain she would live through, perhaps she would have cherished each moment with her lovers more.

She wants to hate Theon now but the pain in her chest tells her that she can't. The girl who loved Theon was dead but her ghost still lingered.

Elysande still loved him.

[feyhunter78]

Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival. A thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

Ch 2

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

[asa-writes]

Dreams - Masterlist

They all need each other, though each in their own seperate way. Growing up and loving in times of war isn't easy at all. Especially when you have to fight for the lives of the people you thought you loved - when you have to abandon everything for the greater good, when you have to choose between sexual, familiar and romantic love.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings and General Tags under the cut.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Chapters:

1 - Jon ¦ 2 - Robb ¦ 3 - Lucie ¦ 4 - Robb ¦ 5 - Jon ¦ 6 - Lucie ¦ 7 - Jon ¦ 8 - Robb ¦ 9 - Lucie ¦ 10 - Jon ¦ 11 - Lucie ¦ 12 - Robb ¦ 13 - Jon ¦ 14 - Lucie ¦ 15 - Jon ¦ 16 - Robb ¦ 17 - Lucie ¦ 18 - Robb ¦ 19 - Jon ¦ 20 - Lucie ¦ 21 - Robb ¦ 22 - Jon ¦ 23 - Lucie ¦ 24 - Theon ¦ 25 - Jon ¦ 26 - Lucie ¦ 27 - Theon ¦ 28 - Jon ¦ 29 - Lucie ¦ 30 - Theon ¦ 31 - Robb ¦ 32 - Jon ¦ 33 - Lucie ¦ 34 - Jon ¦ 35 - (surprise) ¦ 36 - Jon ¦ 37 - Lucie ¦

Drabbles and One-Shots:

"My Sweet" - Robb Stark x Lucie Templeton

Also available on:

Archive of our Own and Wattpad

Warnings / Tags: Canon Divergence - AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Misogyny, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon, Alcohol, Drugs, Age Difference, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, War, Forced Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Pregnancy, Character death, Child Death, Age Play, Bondage, Masochism, Edging, Derogatory Language, Infidelity, Oral Sex, Unplanned Pregnany, Breeding Kink, Masturbation, Hunting, Underage Sex (Canon-Typical)

[cdragons]

Back in my GOT Era, because my ADHD brain won't shut the fuck up 凸(^-^)凸

Let’s pretend Yi Ti and Westeros have an okay trading relationship with each other, and merchants from Yi Ti are always treated with celebrity status in the Seven Kingdoms. Let's also pretend that the GOT writers haven't completely fucked up all of Stannis' fantastic characterization and complexity.

I love Shireen Baratheon so goddamn much, and the fact she died in the show is such an insult to both her's and Stannis' characters. I decided to blast D & D's canon with a bazooka and make Selyse die when Shireen was a baby. Because Stannis needs to make sure she has a mother figure, he marries a childhood friend, OC, who hails from Yi Ti and owns one of the largest sea merchant companies in the Golden Empire. Oh, and she'll have her own kid, too.

Why am I doing this? Don't I have a shitload of other fanfic ideas to write out? Yes, as a fanfic writer, having incomplete ideas is part of the job.

Do I still have an incomplete Robb Stark x YI Ti!OC story? Also, yes, but I replaced my laptop and forgot to save Chapter 4 in the iCloud Drive. The file is on my old laptop, but that's currently across the Atlantic Ocean in Shanghai while I'm in Boston right now 🤷🏻‍♀️.

🔆Backstory Time🔆

OC’s Name: Xu Mei-Ling & Face Claim: Michelle Yeoh

Mei-Ling's family was on good terms with the Baratheon House, and she was actually staying with Stannis during the Siege of Storms End. She is a few years older than Robert and Ned but is good friends with both boys. Stannis grows a major crush on her because of her support during the siege, and Mei-Ling thinks highly of his stubbornness to hold down Storms End for Robert. After the blockade, she ends up marrying someone in Yi Ti. She ended up giving birth to a daughter in the middle of a major storm.

I'll go into more details when I make the first official post about it, but long story short, Mei's husband dies, and so does Selyse. Mei eventually learns about Stannis' daughter and decides, "Fuck it."

They get married, and Mei moves to Dragonstone. She oversees his daughter's education and prepares her to be an heir worthy of the Baratheon name. She also makes sure Shireen interacts with other kids her age. Shireen gets a badass older sister and a mother who isn't the worst. Hooray!

Also, Mei's daughter will end up knowing Ned's kids and Theon for a good fucking portion of her life. She's Med's and Luwin's favorite because if someone pisses her off, she'll yell out profanities while chasing after them with a broom twice her size. One time, Robb tried to pull her hair, and the next thing he knew, he was pinned face down with his face eating mud and Mei's daughter's knee on his back. Another time, she called Ned a fat idiot for not knowing a basic Yi Tish term, and Ned swore it was being scolded by Mei all over again.

In the end, Stannis and the North will be saved from D&D's shitty writing because two WOC immigrants decided to take matters into their own hands.

I'm still having trouble deciding on a title, so if anyone has any ideas, let me know in the comments!

Tagging: @a-libra-writes, @aphroditesmoon, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @valeskafics, anyone else who is a fan of Stannis the Mannis, Shireen, the North, etc.

[sunnyie-eve]

GOT & HOTD Masterlist

❃ Back To You

Paring: (Robb Stark x OFC Tyrell!) (Jon Snow x OFC Tyrell!)

Summary: When Adeline Tyrell was just the age of ten a criminal stole her from her family. She never knew his true intentions because Ned Stark saved her. When finding out she was a Tyrell, he sent a letter to her family only for them to thank him and say keep her. She was the same age as his first son and her family hoped in the future they could possibly married if they ever discussed about it. Only if they all knew what the future had instore for them.

❃ Calamity Within

Paring: (Jacaerys Velaryon x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!) (Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!)

Summary: At a very young age Lilibet learned just because you share blood means nothing sometimes. The hardest part was realizing blood may be thicker than water, but that just meant you get drained trying to battle drowning within it. However, sometimes all you need is a comforting hand for support.

A/N: Since the show already changes the ages I'm going to do the same too slightly. Also to no surprise incest so…

❃ Devious Opportunity

Paring: (Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!)

Summary: You may not control all the events that happen to you nor get to make decisions for yourself. However, sometimes you can make the decision right by doing it on your own. Growing up Aegon and his cousin Celeste had a very different life in many ways. Choices, support, and comfort from family was just a few. In such a chaotic world, Aegon finds solace and purpose in the simple act of wanting to choosing for himself with the help Celeste.

[danysdragonflies]

tweets from my upcoming ff

part 1

[theredquill]

MY ASOIAF OCS ( FEAT THE SEVEN GODS )

1. You pray to the Father for justice: leada tyrell 
2. You pray to the Smith for protection: cassandra algood 
3. You pray to the Warrior for courage : aryana stark 
4. You pray to the Mother for mercy: aemma velaryon 
5. You pray to the Maiden for beauty: marysa manderly 
6. You pray to the Crone for wisdom : lainey hightower 
7. You do not pray to the Stranger, because the Stranger is death : heistia umber

[rainwingmarvel7]

Basic Nadya Dormaire Lore

Born: 281 AC, Raven’s Keep

Parents: Edwyrd Dormaire and Marah Tyrell

Siblings: Alistair Dormaire, Victyr Dormaire, Erwyn Dormaire (Snow)

Love Interest(s): Robb Stark (S1-S3, husband), Jon Snow (S1-S8, husband), Theon Greyjoy (pre-S1 & S5-S8, paramour), Jaime Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, husband (annulled)), Tyrion Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, paramour), Oberyn Martell (S4, paramour)

Children: Carlyle Snow (w/Theon Greyjoy); Ren Stark, Lena Stark, and Eddard Stark (w/Robb Stark); Gwyndolyn, Tyland, and Joanna Lannister (w/Jaime Lannister); Jaime Lannister (Waters) (w/Tyrion Lannister); Robb, Talisa, Margaery, Theon, Edwyrd, and Lyanna Stark (w/Jon Snow)

Titles: Noblewoman of House Dormaire (S1-S8), Queen in the North (S2-S3), Lady of Casterly Rock (S4), Queen Consort of the Six Kingdoms (S8)

Weapon(s): Lady’s Courage (sword gifted to her by Jon Snow), Queen’s Wrath (sword gifted to her by the Tyrells)

Fic: As the Raven Flies

[hawkeyescoffee]

Soooo, my fanfic blog is not showing up in the tags again and I once again ask you to vote on what Canon x Reader fic I should start next week. Here

The deep sea calls for Us (Jonelle Mallister x Asha Greyjoy)

A fine sacrifice for the Sea (Cosette Hightower x Euron Greyjoy)

Of Blinding Ambition and Ruthless Greed (Alys Frey x Robb Stark)

The Day the Sea froze (Serena Stark x Theon Greyjoy)

The Rain hasn't ceased yet (Indra Reyne x Tywin Lannister)

[samieree]

Dawn of the North || Robb Stark

Robb Stark x OC

-> Chapter IV "News are various"

Chapter V "Truth?"

Shortly later in the same day, Amy was pacing around the camp, wondering how she should talk to Robb. She could always run away, but it didn't suit her character. Besides, she'll run away, and then what? The boy will stay with his thoughts, only she wouldn't know if they were right or wrong.

So she finally decided to go talk to him herself. She was about to go to his tent when she heard a conversation from inside.

“It's impossible…” She had no doubt that it was Robb’s voice. “My brothers?”

“We don't know anything.” Some Lord must have answered him.

“I told you to never trust a Greyjoy!” Amy recognized the voice of Lady Catelyn. Apparently, the news that had been brought in some time ago weren’t good at all.

“I have to go back North.” The boy said quickly, rising sharply from the chair, she could hear it sliding away.

“You can't, Your Grace! We have a war with the Lannisters to end!”

“How can I call myself king if I can't hold my own castle?” He shouted at the Lord, stopping right in front of him and spreading his hands.

He felt terrible. Nothing was going his way, and he had no idea what had happened to his brothers yet. Theon killed them? Or have they escaped? He could only guess, the raven didn't bring any news in this case.

His home was no longer his, and at the same time he couldn't retreat north to retake it now, because winter was coming and the Lords might no longer want to move back south to destroy the Lannisters.

“But you are a king! That means you don't have to do everything yourself.” said Lord Bolton, looking seriously at the boy. “Let me send a raven to my bastard, he'll gather a few hundred men and recapture Winterfell from Prince Theon, who's there with a small force. And I assure you, he'll gladly bring you his head.”

“Tell him that Bran and Rickon’s safety is paramount. And all who surrender and lay down their weapons will be free to go. Except Theon Greyjoy.” Robb said calmer now, but with a clear bitterness in his voice. “I want him alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why, and then I'll cut his head myself.” He walked away to sit back in the chair in front of the map. “I want to be alone.”

“Robb…” Catelyn began.

“I want to be alone.” He repeated and finally both Lord Bolton and the redhead left the tent.

And Catelyn felt especially bad that her own son wouldn't talk to her. At the same time, it annoyed her that she had warned Robb about sending Theon back to the Iron Islands to get his father's ships, and yet he had disobeyed her and these are the consequences...

And she had to come across this silver-haired girl almost immediately after she left the tent...!

“What are you doing here?” She asked, making it quite clear in her tone that Amy shouldn't be here.

“I've come to talk with…”

“My son doesn't want to talk with you.” Catelyn said confidently and was about to pass the girl, but her voice stopped her.

“Specifically with me, or with anyone, Lady Stark?” She asked, turning to the woman.

The redhead approached her with an unfriendly expression on her face. She didn't like that girl. What would she give to finally have this woman away from her son...! She was well aware of how such situations ended - breaking an oath, for what? Fleeting feeling? How permanent could such a sudden infatuation - and probably just by her looks - have been, compared to the love she had with Eddard Stark? Which was built slowly, each year, especially for their and their children's happiness?

Exactly, for her, such an affair had no chance for longer happiness, and a bright future for them and people around them.

“Leave my son alone.” She gritted her teeth, looking angrily at the silver-haired girl. “He is already promised to another, you have no place here.”

“But…” Amy frowned, knowing exactly what the woman meant.She really thinks that I am seducing her son...

“No. It's better for you to leave.”

“I don't think you are the one making decisions here.” Amy replied, still standing with a calm expression.

“Are you challenging me?” Catelyn approached her for a moment and looked into her eyes. “There are many men in the world, you will surely find someone for you. But not my son.” Finishing the last sentence, she walked away, leaving Amy alone.

Personally, Amalthea wasn't afraid of Catelyn’s threats, especially since she didn’t know how she would offend Catelyn.

That's why she didn't change her plans to meet Robb. She took a deep breath before entering the tent and passing the guards beside it. She found him standing, leaning against the table, leaning a little over the map of Westeros. She could see he was deep in thought from his expression as she slowly approached him. He wasn't wearing a cloak, so she could clearly see his silhouette. Plus, his tousled, curly hair, which she wanted to run her hand through at least once. Also, a slight stubble that would probably scratch her a bit…

At any rate, she had time to stand beside him before he decided to speak to her.

“I want to be alone.” He said dryly, not even looking at her.

“Nobody really wants that…” Amy replied quietly, leaning one hand on the table. There was silence between them for a few minutes, during which they just stood side by side, with only Amy stealing glances at Robb, studying him carefully before deciding to break the silence. “It won't be easy for you to take the capital.”

“Really? I wouldn't expect it.” He muttered with a sneer, moving figures on the map.

Maybe she wasn't too sure what she was going to do, but on the other hand she was curious about the boy's reaction to what she would do. And it was this curiosity that pushed her to grab the direwolf figurines and move them to the side and back a little.

All this was met with an initially incomprehensible look from Robb, which later began to express more curiosity and desire to hear explanations for this move.

“They say Stannis wants to attack the capital.” she shrugged. “You can do it with him, but you still might not have enough men. Especially since others don't support Stannis's claim to the Iron Throne…” she began, focusing her gaze on the map, now it was his turn to study her silhouette. “And you can wait until Lord Tywin decides to go help his family and leave Casterly Rock, leaving keep and also his gold with much less protection. And capturing Casterly Rock will be a blow to the Lannisters, they will also be cut off from their gold.” She explained, only then turning her head towards Robb and only realizing that he had moved a little closer to her and they were quite close now, especially their faces.

Even though the boy was taller, he was bent enough that their eyes were almost on the same level as they stared at each other, silently. The first thing that went through Robb’s mind in such a situation was kissing her. They were close enough that he could clearly hear her breathing and rapid beating of her heart as he surreptitiously glanced at her lips. Amy had to admit to herself that she felt a little confused about it, the main reason being that she had never been in a similar situation with a boy or anyone at all. However, somewhere in all this uncertainty and confusion, she didn’t mind this closeness, when she could freely see the details in his irises.

“It's…” He cleared his throat, stepping away from her, yet deciding not to do anything more than grab the girl's hand and pull her a little behind with him. “Did you come just to tell me that?” He asked, abandoning the idea of ​​finishing that sentence where he wanted to say something like ‘It's a surprising idea.’

“No.” She replied shortly, snatching his hand away. “I came to admit that you were right. I'm not Lady.” She swallowed, straightening up a bit.

“So?” He raised one eyebrow slightly, giving her an expectant look. Before Amy spoke, though, she let out a sigh, then looked into his eyes.

“I wasn't completely lying. I am Amalthea of ​​House Targaryen, of the blood of old Valyria, and I am the daughter of dragons. My father is the younger brother of Aerys II Targaryen and the king of the north, the true north beyond the Wall.” She took a small step forward with each word, walking slowly forward while Robb was forced backwards.

“If what you say is true... Then why didn't your father claim the crown after the Mad King's death?” He asked, stopping and forcing the girl to do the same.

“When almost all of Westeros was against my family? My father is not crazy, he never wanted to be the king of the ashes. Also, I was born.” She shrugged. “And it was safer to stay there, in secret, as the dynasty was overthrown.”

“I know there was once an independent kingdom beyond the Wall, but not…” She didn't let him finish the sentence.

“If you mean the Igaren family, they were a branch of House Targaryen. And if the previous king had not died childless, my father would never have ascended the throne and would have been dead. And I would be dead also, by Tywin Lannister's orders.” She said the last sentence with great bitterness in her voice. She knew perfectly well who was responsible for the order to kill the youngest of the family, many years ago...

“If you know so much, what are you doing here? Especially with the son of the man who helped overthrow your uncle and destroy part of your family?”

“Because we're not our parents.” She answered confidently, looking somewhere to the side for a moment. “And the throne belongs to my cousin in Essos, the last surviving child of Aerys.” The boy shook his head and stepped aside, again leaning against the table.

“The Targaryen dynasty has been overthrown…” he began to explain, but the silver-haired girl quickly interrupted him again.

“You fight to overthrow Joffrey, who, like the other children of the Queen, is most probably Jaime Lannister's bastard son. Renly is dead, and Stannis is likely to die if he attacks the capital. Who do you think has more rights?!” she asked, turning to him and spreading her arms. “Or maybe it will turn out that Theon has more rights, the one who took your home?” She added the last sentence mainly because she wanted to throw the boy off balance, as if to drive her reasons into his head.

“Did you eavesdrop?!” He turned abruptly and walked over to her, glaring at her angrily.

“If someone is shouting like we are now, it's easy to hear everything.” She said suddenly in a much calmer tone, clasping her hands behind her back. “I'm open to your suggestions, who is the heir to the Iron Throne after Stannis, if Cersei's children are really bastards?” She raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for an answer, but there was none.

“I'm tired, I want to rest before the war council.” He turned his back on her and walked away a few steps, waiting for Amalthea to leave.

“I didn't say who I really am precisely because I wanted to avoid such a sensation around me. But it's probably too late…” However, she wasn't going to let go so quickly, she had her character. “Besides... Maybe I can advise you better than all these Lords?�� With that question, he quickly turned to her, frowning and looking at her intently.

“You?” She sighed softly before walking slowly over to him, only looking up when she was standing right in front of him.

“I am a woman who has no right to know about war and strategy. Go on, say it.” She nodded slightly at him, her lips parting.

“You've never been at war.” He said. He thought about teasing her a bit when he noticed her character. Of course, after her earlier proposal to capture Casterly Rock, he could see that she might actually know a little about this and that, especially since the idea had a chance of success if Stannis would move on to the capital and Lord Tywin would come to save his family. And, of course, if Robb himself had enough troops to take Lannister’s home.

"Same with you. It's your first one, isn't it?” She answered, tilting her head slightly.

“All right, you can stay, but you won’t disturb, and I'm not responsible for any of the Lords' reactions.” She smiled at the fact that she got exactly what she wanted and moved aside to take off the coat that was still on her shoulders and hang it on the chair she then sat on - and it's worth mentioning that Robb had been sitting on it earlier.

For that brief moment, the boy had the opportunity to see how Amy's figure really looks without a thick coat. The indentation at the waist, which was only slightly obscured by loose silver hair, which color secret was finally solved. Breasts outlined under the material of a light orange dress, which were no longer hidden somewhere under the coat and fur, as well as the neckline and hips. Even though he didn't have much time to examine the specific features of her figure before she sat down, he already had a clear image of this girl in his mind.

But beyond all that, he felt a little happy that he had brought a smile to her face by agreeing to let her attend the council.

Catelyn, however, was not happy when she saw that Amy not only disobeyed her words, but also didn’t leave the tent so quickly, and her son did not mind and even smiled at the young girl's presence...

~

-> Chapter VI "First step" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: reader is a Velaryon with some Targaryen features but not an OC, this is just some story building there will be other parts. I just finished the books and I am obsessed with GOT wither way I was bored and this is the result so beware ... I think that's it. Also Theon is a pookie in this fic because I said so

PAIRING: fem!reader x Robb Stark (romantically), fem!reader x Jon Snow (platonically), fem!reader x Theon Greyjoy (platonically)

part 2 (is a WIP)

The cold wind still raged on, hitting the walls of Winterfell. Her room was one on the lower floors next to Jon's and Theon's rooms. The sunrays gently fell on her sleeping figure dragging her from her deep slumber. The fireplace was filled with ashes and the chill in her bones was reasonable. It might still be summer on the North, yet the occasional snow always drifted down from the dark grey clouds. A discreet knock pulled her out of her thoughts and Theon's irritated voice filled the room.

"If you are not in the courtyard in two minutes, I am ratting you out"

Like clock work the same words sounded the moment dawn greeted the North. It was a small routine they had formed two namedays ago. She covered herself in Robb's old furs, the ones he secretly gave to her and claimed he lost them. They had kept her warm for over six moon cycles, they had holes in several places and the edges were coming apart but it was her most prized possession. At first it smelled at him and she was always trying to bask in his scent, that was until Theon caught her smelling the neckline while wearing it and she wouldn't hear the end of it until she openly caught him staring longingly at Sansa.

Unfortunately, they were both in the same position, they wanted people they could never have, and only each other knew. They would drink together glasses of wine and they would stumble giggling around the castle. One time he had drunk so much that he composed atrocious poetry about the beauty of his lady Sansa and her copper hair and then about the Northern prince that fell in love with a girl that had mud brown hair adorned with streaks of silver grey and deep violet eyes that appeared dark blue in the right light. She knew that her appearance betrayed her ancestry the Targaryen blood that flowed in her Velaryon veins.

Her family had been brutally murdered, she had heard and read the tales of how her mother gave her life to protect her dark-haired girl and the bloody necklace that hugged her fathers throat. At the tender age of seven moon cycles her whole family had perished and she had been the only survivor. Ned Stark had found her in a bundle of fabrics crying her heart out and once he saw the sword that could have taken her head, he swore to protect her and take her in as his ward. She should have been grateful, she knew as much, he had given her everything, a warm house, plenty food, clothes and a loving family one she wasn't actually a part of and maybe that was the reason she was closer with Theon and Jon, the outsiders. It wasn't like she didn't like the Starks, she loved them to bits and yet she could never be one of them. She would be the squire under their Maesters care with her nose hidden in ancient books and scrolls, lost in maps and various languages and basic training as a healer. But her new passion was sword fighting. As a woman she had only been allowed to practice archery that she was quite good at and always betted with the boys around their performance.

And that was how Theon found himself at incredibly early hours with a wooden sword in his hand, frowning at drawings of fighting styles freezing his "balls" off. She had bested him at the fine art of combat at practically her fifth lesson in a few hits. She had a strategic mind and she was quick on her feet, the most perfect and most deadly combination that existed.

He pitted the man that would take her as his wife, because most men were incredibly controlling but there was no chance, she wouldn't get things her way. He was proof enough.

She had the three of them wrapped around her little finger from all those years back. She had grown up with them from when she was a babe, but at her seventh nameday her and the Maester left, since she was his squire, she had to follow him, he had taken her under his wing, she had practically been his daughter, the one he never had. At that day and several later they had cried so much that even Lady Stark was regretting her decision, she liked the girl enough, she had the tendency to wreak havoc and get lost in her books a bit too much, neglecting her chores and her lessons at needlepoint half the time, but she made her kids happy and she was too smart and witty for her own good that it was impossible not to have a sweet spot for the orphaned girl. She had been overjoyed when she learned about her return nine namedays afterwards. Her son, her calm and collected Robb was shuffling at his feet, nudging rocks around and toying with the hem of his cloak, the bastard and the Greyjoy ward were portraying similar behaviors and she had to control herself not to laugh at their antics.

Ned had pushed his son forth, claiming that it was around time he greeted their guests, he shot him a glare and his parented watched him as he wiped down his palms at his breeches and headed towards the carriage, his hand shook as he lightly grazed the handle and pulled the door open while staring into place, not ready to accept that his best friend might have changed. He was frozen in his place as a girl wearing a dark blue dress and heeled leather boots stood before him. She tilted her head to the right and only then did he notice her hair.

A knot at the back of her head that was a swirl of chocolate brown and silver white strands that framed her face beautifully. Her violet eyes hid a familiar mischief that he had dearly missed. She nodded at him, before facing his father and dropping into an elegant curtesy. It was as if he was on a trance, unable to tear his eyes from her form. It wasn't until he heard her voice, she was speaking in a language he didn't understand, yet he could recognize the bite on her tone. His father wore an amused smile as he answered her back. He would learn at the evening feast what had caused such reactions, the news almost swept him from his feet, his whole existence reduced to one word. Betrothed. Ever since then it was like they were walking on eggshells around her. All three of them longed for their missing link.

It wasn't until a few days latter when they invited her on a hunt that they could glimpse on what they were. They had found a boar and his in bushes only to lose their horses in the process. They had been walking for hours and all it took was an ill-fated joke from Jon.

"No. I do not love you. Of course I lied to you. Yes, it does make you look fat. No, I have never been in the Riverlands. It is pronounced Eyrie. And all of this pales to utter insignificance if we are to let ourselves be food for the hounds."

They had all been tired and snappy, making comments left and right and picking fun at her the way they used to. They had been waiting quite impatiently for her to snap back and the moment she did, loud laughter echoed in the woods. And just like that everything was back to the way it used to be.

Ever since then life seemed dreamy to Robb, he had his friends and his family all getting along and everything seemed perfect. But reality hit him hard each night knowing that the girl he fostered feelings for was promised to another.

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 2: Winter is Coming

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Pairing: °❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･

CW: fem!oc, mostly fluff, and mentions of murder.꙳·❅°*˖

Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

(a/n) hey guys, I finally finished the masterlist so please check it out! I also recently made a ao3 account and I’ll start posting this series on there as well so stay tuned 🤍

Dividers by @sylasthegrim

UPDATED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER IS ON WATTPAD

https://www.wattpad.com/1439924205-dragon-of-the-north-b-stark-𝐢𝐢-winter-is-coming

Once the Stark boys came back, Bran said he wanted to show Rhaella something. He took her to the kitchens to show her. To her surprise, there were puppies! “Oh my gosh!” She gushed. “Bran, they are adorable!” He picked one up saying, “This one is mine! I haven’t decided on a name yet. They’re direwolf pups! There’s enough for all of the Stark children, even Jon!”

He handed the little pup to Rhaella. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you one. Maybe, we can share mine!”

The pup licked her cheek. “I’d like that!” She giggled. She turned to Arya. “Did you name yours?”

“Sure did!” She said. “Her name is Nymeria!”

Sansa scoffed. “The name of mine will be Lady. She’s going to be well behaved and good like me.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

Robb lifted up his pup, examining it. “I think I’ll name mine Greywind.”

“That’s so cool,” Bran said, jealous.

Rickon played with his pup. “I��m going to name mine…Shaggydog!” Everyone thought that was an odd name, but didn’t say anything, fearing that they would hurt the boy’s feelings.

The preparations continued for the King’s arrival. During Rhaella’s free time, she liked exploring Winterfell and interacting with the people. Although it took a while for the people to warm up to her, she was eventually called Winterfell’s delight. She was quite similar to Bran. A loving and outgoing child.

In the courtyard, Bran was receiving history lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaella and Arya were waiting on him to finish, doing each other’s hair. Rhaella liked teaching Arya how to braid. She looked over at Bran, who was already glancing over at her. They both waved at each other until Maester Luwin wacked Bran on the head. “You need to focus,” the Maester said. The girls laughed.

“I think he’s really starting to like you.” Arya said.

“Really?” Rhaella asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s always staring at you. And don’t tell him I told you this, but after the first dinner you had with us, he told me you were very pretty.”

That made Rhaella blush. Does he really like me? Arya could just be teasing. We both agreed to just be friends. I wonder if Robb thinks I’m cute? If only I were older I would’ve been married to him instead.

After Bran was done, he decided to go climbing the castle walls. Rhaella didn’t feel like going with him, so she stayed by Lady Catelyn’s side. Bran’s direwolf pup also followed her around. He was growing at a rapid speed. Lady Stark was quite stressed making sure everything was perfect. Especially since the Lannisters were coming.

“Brandon!” Lady Stark yelled, as they walked outside to the courtyard.

“I see the king!” He shouted. “He’s got thousands of people!”

“Get down here right now!”

Once he gracefully made his way down his mother said, “how many times must I tell you, no more climbing! Promise me!”

Bran looked down at his feet and then answered, “I promise mother.”

“I noticed something, you always look at your feet before you lie…”

Bran chuckled, not denying it.

“Go let Ned know the king is close.”

Bran took Rhaella’s hand and they took off with their direwolf chasing behind them.

The stark family stood in a line as everyone else stood behind them. Jon was to the left of me while Theon Greyjoy was to my right. The gates opened for the King to trot in with his horse. Following him was his king’s guard and a boy on horseback. That must be his son, the prince. The blonde haired boy smiled at Sansa, and she smiled back at him. One knight hopped off of his horse, and took off his helmet. He had to have been the most beautiful man Rhaella’s ever seen. He had long golden blonde hair with emerald green eyes. “Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother,” Arya said, before Sansa hushed her.

“I heard the prince was a royal prick,” Theon whispered. He, at a young age, was sent to Winterfell by his own father, Balon Greyjoy. He made the terrible mistake of crowning himself king of the iron islands and starting a war. After their loss, Theon was sent away to Winterfell to be Lord Stark’s ward. Theon always viewed himself as a prisoner.

Then, came in the carriage with the Queen inside. She exited out of the carriage, looking slightly annoyed.

“Where’s the imp?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Please, just shut up!” Sansa asked.

We all bowed before the king and Queen as they made their way to Lord Stark. The King said hello to every member of the family. He made eye contact with Rhaella. She stiffened, not knowing what to do. “My king,” she said, curtsying. He gave a simple nod, and went about his way into the crypts with Lord Stark.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jon said, messing with her hair. She let out a relieved sigh, “no, thank goodness.”

Lady Stark had Rhaella, Arya, and Sansa get ready for the feast together.

“The prince is so handsome…” Sansa said, blushing. “I can’t believe the king wants me to marry him! Can we marry now or do we have to wait?”

Her mother stopped brushing her hair, “gods Sansa, your father hasn’t even made a decision yet!”

She turned to her, “please tell him to say yes! It’s all I could ever want!”

Lady Stark nodded, “we’ll see.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “not everything is about boys.”

Rhaella finally finished making her dress. The dress was a delicate light blue with a beautiful dragon embroidered on the neckline.

“That looks amazing!” Arya said.

“Thanks, learned from the best,” Rhaella replied smiling at Sansa.

“I suck at making my dresses…” Arya said.

“You still look very beautiful,” Lady Stark said. “You all do.”

Rhaella made her way to the Great Hall for the feast. She had to sit with Jon and the stable boys. “I like the dress,” Jon said. “Made it yourself?”

Rhaella nodded with a smile. Jon’s wolf, Ghost, laid his head on Rhaella’s lap.

“I guess Ghost likes it too,” Jon laughed.

“Do you boy?” She asked the white direwolf as it wagged its tail. Ghost was the runt of the litter and albino with red eyes. Jon named him ghost because he barely makes a sound.

Everyone watched as the Stark family entered the great hall one by one after the King and Queen. A few of them walked in with the King’s children. Robb with Princess Marcella, Sansa with Prince Joffrey, and Arya with Prince Tommen. The feast finally began.

Rhaella noticed Queen Cersei looking at her. Lady Catelyn gave a little nod, hinting her to come over. Rhaella took a deep breath and made her way over. Once she was before them, she curtsied. “My Queen, my Lady,” Rhaella said.

“Why aren’t you a precious thing?” The Queen asked. “Rhaella, isn’t it? Surely, a beautiful thing like you shouldn’t be hiding in the North, where it’s cold.”

“T-Thank you, my Queen! You look very beautiful yourself.” Rhaella smiled. The Queen had long gorgeous golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She truly was a sight to see.

“And your smile, like the sun entered the room and exploded,” the Queen added. “You’re free to go, and would you be a dear and tell Sansa to come over?”

Rhaella didn’t know how to feel about the last compliment, but curtsied again before walking away. Sansa was sitting with her friend Jeyne Poole, giggling and whispering. “Sansa,” Rhaella said. “The Queen wants to speak with you!” Sansa’s eyes lit up with joy, “Really, she wants me?” She quickly got up from her seat and walked over to them. Rhaella sat back down with Jon. “What did she want?” He asked, lifting his eyebrow. “Nothing really,” Rhaella replied. “Nothing bad, thank goodness.”

As everyone ate their food, Rhaella looked up at Arya. She had a mischievous look on her face. What will she do? She scooped a piece of pigeon pie, and aimed it at Sansa. She flicked the pie at her, hitting her cheek.

“Arya!” She shrieked. “She always does this!”

Robb picked Arya up and took her to her bed camber as the whole room laughed.

The musicians started to play their music, inviting everyone to the dance floor. I’d like to dance a little, but who would ask me?

୭ ₊ Bran ˚.

Bran watched as men brought their lady partners to the floor to dance. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “You should ask Rhaella to dance,” Robb said. “I think it would make her very happy.”

“She is your betrothed after all,” Theon added, teasing Bran.

Bran’s cheeks went red, “s-stop teasing me! What if she says no?”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t,” Robb said. “Besides, you should never be afraid of rejection.”

Easy for you to say, all the girls love you, even her…

Bran nodded and got up from his seat. He walked over to Rhaella, offering his hand, “Gaomagon jaelā naejot lilagon lēda nyke?”

She smiled and nodded, “Kessa!”

They both made their way to the dance floor, and began to mimic the moves of the pairs. “The dancing lessons really paid off,” she said. Bran agreed, “yeah! We’re doing good!”

The two of them continued to dance. “Bran, I think everyone is watching us!” She whispered. He glanced around the room. She was right, everybody was watching, even the king. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on me,” he told her. Everybody began to cheer for them, including the other Starks.

“That’s my brother!” Robb yelled.

That’s so embarrassing…

Rhaella laughed, making Bran blush.

୭ ₊ Rhaella ˚.

Once the song was over, Rhaella and Bran went back to their seats. Where’s Jon? She hopped off her seat and searched for him. She walked outside to find him training with his sword. “There you are,” Rhaella said. “You missed me and Bran dancing!”

“Don’t worry, I saw you two before I left outside. You both did great.” He said.

“I wish you could have danced with us.” She admitted.

They both heard another song playing from inside. Jon placed down his sword, and offered his hand, “well then, my lady, may I have this dance,” he asked, in a silly voice. Rhaella laughed and accepted. They both danced until the song was over. Rhaella and Bran went to Arya’s bed chamber to read another Targaryen story before going to bed. Arya set up a tent with her blanket so they could lay on their bellies on the floor. “We didn’t finish the dance of the dragons!” Arya said. “We left off on the part where Prince Jacerys went to Winterfell.”

Rhaella began to read from the book, “well it says here that he met Lord Cregan Stark, who also lost his younger brother. Jacerys reminded him so much of his sibling that they formed a brotherhood and they made the—”

“The pact of Ice and Fire.” They heard a voice say. All of a sudden, the blanket was yanked from above making the children scream. “It’s just me,” Lord Stark said. “All of you should be sleeping you know.”

“After this part of the story.” Bran said. “Please?”

Their father chuckled, “alright then, the pact was made between them to show the North’s support for the blacks during the dance. The Prince said once he’d have a daughter, she would marry Cregan’s son.”

“Did it happen?” Rhaella asked.

“No, the Prince died shortly after during a battle.” He answered.

Arya frowned, “so the pact was never fulfilled?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said messing with her hair. “That’s what war does, nothing but destruction and death. I despise it.”

“Imagine what it was like to have a war with that many dragons,” Bran said. “Maybe I don’t want to imagine it.”

Lord Stark agreed, “the poor dragons were the key ‘weapons’ in that war, nearly wiping all of them out.”

“And now they’re all gone.” Rhaella said.

“Perhaps they are,” he said. “Now, time for bed all of you.” Bran and Rhaella left the room and went to their own.

The next day, the girls had embroidery lessons with Princess Marcella. Nearly the whole time Sansa was giggling and whispering to her friends Jayne and Beth.

“What’s so funny?” Arya asked. “Tell me what y’all are giggling about!”

“The prince,” Sansa blushed. “He was very handsome at the feast. He even stared me.”

“I’m sure he also saw you get pigeon pied to the face,” Arya snickered. “Besides, Jon said he’s a spoiled brat.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Jon is just jealous that he is a bastard and not a prince!”

Arya and Rhaella gasped.

“Sansa, that’s so mean!” Rhaella said.

“It’s the truth,” Sansa said. “And I will be queen someday.”

Arya grabbed Rhaella’s hand, “let’s go see what Bran is up to!”

They made their way into the courtyard. They found the Stark and Baratheon boys together. Bran and Tommen were heavily padded with wooden swords.

They called for him and waved. “Good luck brother!” Arya yelled.

As the two boys were fighting, everyone could sense the tension between Robb and Prince Joffrey. They were smack talking each other the whole time. Their fight would certainly be interesting.

“I wish we could do that,” Arya sighed. “It would be fun!”

Rhaella agreed, “yeah, but alas, we are girls. Some books I’ve read said that outside of Westeros there are places where women are allowed to do anything men can.”

“I’d like to go there sometime.” She said.

“Same here.”

Tommen fell to the ground as Bran held his wooden sword at him. Wow, Bran would have made a great knight of the kingsguard, Rhaella said to herself. Then I showed up and ruined everything…

When it became dawn, the King and Lord Stark were leaving for a hunt with Robb and Theon following them. Bran and Rhaella watched as they trotted away on horseback. Lord Stark looked at them to wave goodbye. They smiled back and watched as the party left.

“My father will be hand of the king,” Bran said. “He’s leaving to King’s Landing tomorrow. He’s going to take us with him. Mother didn’t want me to go, but father thought that I could calm down the feud between Joffrey and Robb.”

“Did he mention me?” Rhaella asked. As scared as she was of the king, the Starks truly had become a family to her. She didn’t want to lose them.

“I asked father, they are still making a decision.” He said. “I’m sure the king will say yes. You are my betrothed after all.”

Bored, Bran and Rhaella explored Winterfell’s castle. They visited the stables where Hodor, a large and tall man, attended to Bran’s pony. Hodor was truly a mystery. All he ever said was ‘Hodor.’ No one knows why.

“I’ll have to leave him behind,” Bran said as he looked at the pony. Rhaella turned to Bran and noticed water in his eyes. She held his hand, whispering, “hey, it’s going to be okay.”

Bran sniffed, “sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. Boys don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries, Bran,” she reminded him. “There’s no shame in that.” She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but it wouldn’t hurt to try comforting a friend.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave,” he admitted. “This is my home. My real home.”

There was that word again, ‘home.’

Where’s my home?

The stable boys noticed the Stark boy crying and began to snicker. “What a baby!” One of them laughed. “Shut up!” Rhaella shouted. “That ‘baby’ is more important than any of you will ever be!” She grabbed Bran’s hand and they both took off.

The two children grew bored again, thinking of what to do next.

Bran gave her a mischievous smirk, “you wanna go climbing?”

“Bran, your mother said no!” She reminded him. “And I don’t feel like climbing right now…I’ll just watch.”

His direwolf pup began to chew on his shoe. “Come on you!” He told the pup. They found an abandoned tower in the distance. Bran pointed at it, “I’m going to climb that one!” Once they got there, Bran started climbing. Never once had he ever fell from climbing. Never.

Once Bran made it to the window, he looked confused. Before Rhaella could ask if something was wrong, she saw Bran get dragged in by a hand. Without thinking, she began to climb herself up the tower. She was halfway there until Bran was pushed from the window. She swiftly grabbed his hand, “hang on.” She held on as much as she could. “We’re going to fall!” He shouted. Her fingers began to slip from the wall. “We’re going to be okay—” she started to say until her fingers completely slipped off the wall. They both held onto each other as their bodies hit the ground. Everything went black.

“Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”

Confused, Rhaella woke up in a crowd of people. They were all shouting at someone. She turned to where they were all facing and gasped. It was Sansa, the Queen, and Joffrey with his kingsguard. Except, Joffrey wore the crown of the king. Is this Kingslanding? “No!” Sansa yelled. “Please don’t do this!” Lord Stark was being executed! Rhaella wanted to shout, but she couldn’t. No! The knight drew out his sword, and lifted it up. Rhaella turned away, covering her eyes, before seeing his head get sliced off. What is going on?

“Dany, please!” A voice begged in fear.

Viserys?

She removed her hands to investigate, only to be in a completely different spot. She was inside a tent with many men and women. She knew it wasn’t Westeros due to the majority of people having darker skin with unfamiliar accents. There Viserys was, on his knees as two other men restrained him from moving. “A crown of a king,” The tall man said. He held a pot of melted gold over Viserys’ head and poured it over him. He screamed in agony until he could no longer say anything. His head slammed to the ground. He was dead!

“He was no dragon.”

Rhaella turned back to see Dany. She showed no emotion whatsoever after what just happened.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she said, staring at his lifeless body.

There was a loud screech from the sky, startling Rhaella. Once she looked up, she couldn’t believe what was there before her. It was a dragon! The scales of the creature was a beautiful deep shade of blue, with a lighter shade going down its neck and under its wings. The dragon opened its mouth, letting out blue flames at her.

Rhaella let out a small groan. Her vision, at first, was blurry. All she could hear was a gasp.

“Gods be good!” A familiar voice exclaimed.

“My…lady?” Rhaella asked.

“Yes, sweet girl. It’s me.” She said.

Rhaella tried to stand, but she was weak.

“No, you need your rest.” She said. Rhaella could tell Lady Stark was relieved, but not completely. Bran was still sleeping in a bed next to hers.

“How long has it been?” Rhaella asked.

“A couple of days.” She answered. “You were in a coma.”

Rhaella’s stomach let out a vicious growl. She didn’t realize how hungry she was.

“You poor thing, all we could give the both you was honey and water while you were sleeping,” Lady Stark explained. “I’ll have someone bring food from the kitchen.”

“I tried to not let go,” Rhaella explained. “I was holding onto his hand while gripping the wall with my other hand.”

“Do you remember anything else before that?” She asked.

“Well, all I remember was him falling from the tower. He could have been pushed, but I didn’t see…”

That made Lady Stark want to ask more questions, but Rhaella didn’t have a lot of answers. They all left. Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya, and Jon. Rhaella didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. That made her sad. She wanted to cry, but refused to let any tears fall.

“Whoever did this to you will pay,” Lady Stark said coldly. “I promise you that.”

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[asa-do-your-thing]

Dreams - 1 - Jon

18+ MINORS DNI Jon Snow x F!OC / Robb Stark x F!OC Word Count: 3.3k Masterlist with Fic Warnings - Contains Death, SA and Abuse.  Dividers by @cafekitsune

It had always been relatively crowded in Winterfell when it came to the Stark family, Jon noted. At first it was Lord Eddard, Lady Stark, and Robb, followed by him, Theon Greyjoy, Sansa, Bran, Arya, Rickon… and Lucie.

They had been a rag-tag band of kids, playing, hitting, and chasing each other. Theon had gladly joined their games, yet he, along with Sansa quickly realised that Jon was not a Stark - he was a half-brother at best and a Bastard at worst.

Lucie had never really been a part of the group seeing as she was the last person to join them, yet she was always there to prevent things from getting out of hand. Everyone had given Jon respect when she was present. She was a key player in maintaining an atmosphere of harmony in Winterfell’s spacious halls.

Looking up at her from his distant seat at dinner, Jon thought back to the day where she had joined them. Lord Eddard had told them a few weeks before that they were going to have a new ward; her family had sadly passed away and he graciously allowed her to be taken in with them until she came of age, which was just around the corner.

Lady Lucie Templeton of Ninestars, a distinguished Lady of the Vale. A title befitting her remarkable poise and presence. Jon had envisioned her as resembling an older iteration of Sansa: statuesque, elegant, and, above all, exuding an air of haughtiness and subtle aloofness towards him.

He knew he would forever remember her arrival; gallantly riding into Winterfell astride her untamed black stallion. As her lengthy black locks billowed behind her in the wind, she fearlessly surged through the gates on her steed. Dismounting with the finesse of a seasoned warrior, she strode confidently in his direction. All those present, Jon included, involuntarily retreated to afford her space, captivated by her awe-inspiring presence.

Noticing his stare, she quickly glanced over at him and caught his eye before turning away and exchanging greetings with Lord and Lady Stark. He was struck dumb by how commanding yet beautiful she was in that moment—her dark black eyes glowing with life despite the dire situation she had come from. Using his newfound courage — because only a fool wouldn’t be afraid in her presence — he managed to stammer out a few words of greeting which she returned warmly before moving on to meet the rest of the family.

It hadn’t taken too long for Jon to recognize that Lucie was not like anyone else he had ever met; even the Starks seemed impressed by her strength and poise (though they masked it well). But despite being adopted into this strange new world, Lucie still held onto an air of confidence and self-assurance that made even Jon feel small next to her.

He watched her with a critical eye, noting the way Robb and Theon stared at her with rapt attention, despite her meek and unassuming attempt at conversation. Instead of commanding the room as was expected of her, she averted her gaze and twiddled her fingers nervously while speaking in a barely audible whisper.

Jon had taken such care to make her feel welcome, in those days. He showed her the way around Winterfell, whenever she got lost again, and even taught her to pray to the old gods. Lady Catelyn scolded him for that - Lucie had grown up in the shadow of the Seven, the new Gods. Robb had gone out of his way to try and make her feel comfortable. He offered her a seat by the fire in the Great Hall while he fed her lessons on battles and strategy, noting that Lucie was a fast learner - able to keep up with him even as he tried to pummel her with facts. Theon, though never one for charity, seemed more enthralled by Lucie than any of them. Mostly because Lucie was not the type to laugh at his bad jokes or take part in his pranks - she was always too busy trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else in terms of knowledge.

Jon smiled fondly at his memories; he had been so sure that Lady Lucie would be like Sansa - aloof and haughty. Instead, she had become a dear friend and family member who could hold her own when needed - serving as an equal rather than a subordinate. It was amazing how someone so young could possess such depth and strength — something Jon admired greatly about her.

As the last plate was cleared, he glanced at Lucie and saw her weary eyes plead for solace. It had become a ritual - every night after dinner, while the others scurried off to their beds, she would stay in the library with him. They talked quietly about her struggles and sorrows as she clutched an aged book in her hands and the tears ran like rain down her face. On her first day, when everyone else had gone to bed, she asked meekly if she could stay up and read in the library. Septa Mordane attempted to bar her from doing so, but with one pained glance at Lord Eddard, her request was granted, albeit only if someone stayed with her. Together Jon and Lady Lucie walked into the library, and he felt nothing but pity and sadness for this brave little girl who had trusted him since the first time they had gone to talk.

That evening, all these moons ago, was something that made Jon cringe when looking back. Robb had tried to console the girl, yet after several unsuccessful attempts he asked for Jon's help. “Jon, nothing I said could get through to her. I offered her a pony, flowers, and new gowns, but she told me to go away. What’s wrong with her? She won’t tell me anything. Should I tell Septa Mordane or my mother?” Robb’s face was pale as he ran his hand through his hair anxiously.

Jon had crept back to the library, his leather belt clattering against the tops of his thighs as he walked. “Robb, do not try to console her. SHe is in mourning for her family and her home. I think you might scare her. Let me handle this.” Robb nodded acknowledgement and Jon entered the library, quietly shutting the door behind him. Lucie was hunched near the window, sobbing away. Robb was right, Jon had thought painfully; he could hear her muffled sobs and it made his heart ache for her. All he wanted was for her to feel some sense of comfort again.

Sitting down next to her, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. She looked up and sighed, wiping her tears and closed her worn book. “Please do not tell me all will be fine and for the love of… of the Gods, do not offer me a damned pony,” she muttered and sniffed.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You have a fine steed yourself; I do not see the need for you to have a pony,” he said matter-of-factly and shifted in his seat, offering her a rag to blow her nose.

Lucie looked up at him, her dark eyes reddened by the tears. Tentatively blowing her nose, she sighed and tucked her feet under herself, hiding them under her lavish skirts. “So, I take it you are Jon Snow.”

He sighed, knowing that what would follow would be her acknowledgement of his status as a Bastard. He knew it all too well; Lady Catelyn had probably told her of that, prior to her arrival. She looked so young, so maybe he could still forgive her. “Indeed, I am, Lady Lucie.”

She had frowned, gently furrowing her thick, dark brows, patting the tears away from her reddened cheeks. “Why do you look like… Like I hurt you?”

Jon was baffled back then. She did not care about his mother, then. He might just start liking her. He gave her a small smile. “Oh, I... uhm…” His words, whatever they would’ve been, were stuck in his throat. “That is my mistake, my Lady. I meant no offense.”

“You are a peculiar man,” she noted, biting her lip, and putting the book to the side. “How could you offend me with your face? I think it is a fine one, I have seen worse.”

A big blush had crept up his cheeks. “I… My lady, I… Thank you.” Silence spread between them. “May I ask why you wished to go into the library and not just to your chambers?”

Now it had been Lucie’s turn to blush, though it seemed more in shame than in bashfulness. “That’s where my mother used to read to me and where we wrote before retiring to our chambers. I know, I know, it sounds childish, I should act like a Lady, but…” Tears welled up in her eyes again and spilled onto her dress.

With a nervous look, she stood up and sat down next to him, resting her head against his shoulder, crying quietly. Jon had decided not to probe, instead looking at the booklet. It didn’t belong to the Stark’s library - it must’ve been one of her own, titled ‘You shall be the best Lady.’ He hugged her, holding her gently, for the longest time, until her tears subsided, and her breath became calm once more. Sniffling, she gently broke free from his hug and gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Jon. I… shall retire now, I think.” To which he nodded, escorting her to her chamber.

Jon watched Lucie's figure slowly fade away down the hallway as darkness crept in, just like it had one year ago at the very same spot. But something was different about her tonight than in the first night. She seemed stronger, more confident as if she was hiding something from him. Should he confront her? He thought back to their conversations and noticed that she had been silent about what was going on with her life lately. He began to worry that maybe she had found out his secret - that terrible, shameful secret about how he touched himself late at night when no one would ever know. The mere thought sent a chill down Jon's spine.

She could not know, nobody could, it'd be the end of him.

He was entranced by the way Lucie had looked at him, with those mysterious dark eyes that seemed to know what he was feeling. Part of him wanted to believe that she felt something for him too- after all, he was the only one she allowed to spend time with her. But then there were moments when he could not help but feel that his own longing for her was deluding himself into seeing signs where there were none. He wished he could make sense of what she thought of him, yet he still could not unravel the complex of feelings between them.

Hells, he could not unravel his own thoughts, after all.

As he made his way back to his own chambers, he found himself lost in thought, replaying their conversation over and over in his mind. Lucie babbled something about Sansa's lady-friend crying and Arya asking her to train mounted shooting and, as always, Septa Mordane's question about her blood, which to her chagrin had still not come.

Jon could not comprehend why she felt so mortified by her own coming of age. She was now an adult at the ripe age of six-and-ten; why did this cause her such humiliation? Though he could somehow understand what she was implying, that everything associated with becoming a full woman was linked to... carnal passions.

He stopped walking for a second, remembering the redness of her cheeks as she talked about it. He shook his head and continued his way, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. He didn't want to assume anything – that was only a recipe for disaster and disappointment.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice the figure standing in the shadows until it was too late.

A hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his cry of surprise. He struggled against the grip, but the person holding him was much stronger than he expected. Panic set in as he realised, he was being dragged away, the darkness swallowing him whole. When they finally stopped, Jon was disoriented and confused. He tried to shake the cobwebs from his head, but it was difficult to focus with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim candlelight of his bedchamber, but when they did, he could not believe what he was seeing.

Lucie stood before him, blushing, and wiping off the sweat from her brow, her hair undone and cascading over her shoulders in waves. She was clad in a simple cotton gown, the kind that the maids wore. Jon felt his heart skip a beat as he suddenly realised what was happening. He was afraid to speak, afraid that if he did, it would shatter the moment and she would disappear like a dream.

"Lucie?" he said confused, his voice cracking. “What on earth?!”

She grinned at him, the candlelight casting a warm glow across her face as she tried fixing the cloak around herself again. "I am sorry for this… unconventional method. I thought that this would be the safest way to be truly alone with you because... I want to talk to you. Without Lady Catelyn spying."

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you or hurt you," Jon muttered and felt his throat tightening, gulping, and trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. How could he feel this way? He should not have felt anything for Lucie as she wrestled him into his room, but there was something thrilling and forbidden about it. It was not like Robb or Theon playing a joke on him - this moment was different. Even though he knew it was wrong, he could not help himself.

She tilted her chin up at him, her glossy black hair cascading down her back. Her voice was firm and determined as she spoke. "No, I am not angry. I want to know what it's like, Jon. What people do when they become intimate with one another. No one ever told me these things, but I trust you. Please tell me what it feels like, what am I supposed to do and how much does it hurt?"

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. This was wrong - he knew that - yet he could not find the strength to deny her. The drive she had to learn more overshadowed her usual innocence, and there was something in that blazing gaze of hers that made it impossible for him to turn her away.

"Lucie, I do not think-"

"Please," she interrupted, taking a step closer to him. "I trust you, Jon. I know you won't lie to me. No one wanted to tell me and... I am...," her voice faltered, and she nervously bit her lip, sitting down on the foot of his bed, gently scratching Ghost between his fluffy ears. "I feel tens of thousands of things, most of all fear and... I trust you to help me."

Jon's heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing with a million thoughts at once. He knew that what Lucie was asking was wrong, that he should not be indulging her curiosity in this way. But still, he could not deny the pull he felt towards her. It was as if a part of him had been waiting for this moment, for her to come to him with her questions and her fears.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Lucie, I can't teach you those things," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not right. You are too young, and it's not... it's not something that should be taken lightly."

Her pupils widened with shock, and she gave him an awkward, confused glance. "But why?" she questioned, her voice wavering slightly. "I thought... I thought we had established an atmosphere of trust, considering all I've shared with you."

Jon's heart lurched as he heard the pain in Lucie's voice. He did care for her deeply, far more than he should. But that didn't change the fact that what she was suggesting was both dangerous and wrong.

Taking a shaky step back, he shook his head sadly. "Lucie, you do not know what You are asking of me," he said quietly. "It's not something I can take back once it's done, and it's a decision that should only be made with someone you truly love and whom you plan to spend your life with. You know we can never marry... You are a highborn Lady, and I am just..." His tongue stumbled over the word he wanted to say, knowing that even a whisper of his parentage had the power to shatter their moment.

Lucie stared at him for a long moment, her sharp eyes zigzagging across his face like she was searching for something he could not place. Then she let out an awkward laugh and touched his shoulder with tenderness. She adjusted herself under her nightgown, probably trying to hide the embarrassment that came with their misunderstanding.

"Oh Jon! I only wanted you to talk me through it, not show me!" She said in between giggles as she planted a gentle peck on his stubbly cheek. "You are so imaginative," Biting her lip, she looked away before continuing: "What do you think I am? A hungry harlot looking for prey?" With a suppressed smile, she raised an eyebrow waiting for his response, her cheeks ablaze.

Jon could not help but let out a small laugh at her words, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. "No, no, of course not, Lucie," he said, feeling relieved that she didn't expect more from him. He wanted her to... have flowered, he wanted them to have kissed, he wanted it to be less... dangerous, to be more romantic.

"I am sorry, I just... I didn't want to disappoint you. I know how important this is to you, but it's not something I can do. Not right now, at least. I do not want to lie... I uh..." The heat shot straight back into his head. "I have only ever talked about it, I've yet to... lie with someone." Because I am saving myself for you, I want you, only you, Lucie... the thoughts whirred in his head.

Lucie nodded, her expression softening. "Oh, I understand then," she said quietly, clearly unhappy with his response. "I just... I feel so lost sometimes. There's so much I do not know, so much I am not allowed to know. And I am afraid... afraid of being alone forever. I... I mean, yes, I will be married soon, and we both know who it will be with a high probability, but..."

As Jon gazed into her eyes, her vulnerability tugged at his heartstrings. He knew he could not leave her feeling like this; she deserved better than that. So, he inched closer and sat down on the bed beside her.

"You'll never be alone, Lucie," he whispered softly as he took her hand in his. "I'll always have your back no matter what happens. And someday, the man who's meant for you will come into your life."

He thought about Robb, and how he owed it to him to let Lucie go. It was selfish of him to keep her to himself. Besides, he could not even tell if she liked him or not - it was probably all in his head.

With a mix of gratitude and sadness, he knew that there was no going back from this moment. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, which smelled wonderfully of peonies, and she closed her eyes, her arms tightening around his waist. For a moment, they sat there in silence, lost in their own thoughts and feelings, until he pulled away, breaking the moment.

"I should get some rest," he mumbled, trying to guess the time. "You should too, we are to hunt tomorrow."

Lucie shifted back into her old, sad self and gave him a tired smile. "Of course. I wouldn't want Robb and Theon to think that I do not want to see them. It's... uhm, I am sorry to have bothered you, Jon. I promise it won't happen again." She got up and tied her cloak around her shoulders. "I am bringing you in dangerous situations, you know, being alone with you and then overstepping your boundaries. I am... sorry," she mumbled.

'No, you haven't! Please do not leave!', shot through Jon's mind, yet he knew he could not, it was wrong. It was shameful and... he didn't want to project his feelings and his lust onto her, so he gave her a small, sad smile in return.

As Lucie turned to leave, Jon could not help but watch her walk away, his eyes lingering on the sway of her hips. When she stood up, a bright flash of red silk slipped out from under her nightgown; the ribbon that held her stockings around her pale, supple thighs. He knew it was wrong to think of it, of her, in that way, but he could not help it. She was so beautiful, so pure, and so unreachable.

He wanted her, desperately.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. It was wrong, so wrong. He had to push those feelings aside, for both their sakes. He could not risk ruining the delicate balance they had between them. So, he took a deep breath, laying back on the bed. His thoughts drifted to the memory of Lucie's lost ribbon, the image of her silky stockings and smooth skin replaying in his mind. He felt himself growing hard again, and he knew what he had to do.

He closed his eyes and let his hand wander down to his growing erection, imagining it was Lucie's small, delicate hand instead. He stroked himself slowly, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he thought of her. He pictured her beautiful face, the curve of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows, her sharp, sparkling eyes. He imagined her soft, warm skin, her supple thighs, her tight, wet cunny.

As he continued to stroke himself, he let out a low moan, his body writhing with pleasure. He fantasised about Lucie being with him, touching him, kissing him, and eventually, making love to him. He imagined her moaning his name, her body trembling with ecstasy.

He stroked himself faster, his breathing growing ragged as his body approached the peak of pleasure. He moaned louder, his hand moving faster and faster until he finally exploded, spilling his hot seed all over his hand.

As he lay there, panting and sweating, he knew he had to get his feelings for Lucie under control. He could not let his lust for her ruin the special bond they shared. But at the same time, he could not stop himself from fantasising about her. She was just too beautiful, too alluring, too... perfect.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling his body slowly calming down. He knew he had a lot to think about, a lot to figure out. But for now, he just needed to rest. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep, his mind full of thoughts of Lucie.

AO3 <= Other Stories ¦ Next Chapter => 2 - Robb

[yxlxnabxlova]

House of the Dragon and/or Game of Thrones rp Request

I am over 18 so, absolutely NO minors allowed! Rules:

NO minors, pls dni if you are under 18

Semi Lit to Literate and above

AT LEAST two paragraphs for responses

oc's are allowed! i can do cc x cc ships but i prefer playing as oc's

doubles are allow

open to bxb but i do prefer bxg and gxg

pls be okay with angst, i can live without smut haha but i need my angst

I'm pretty open to triggering topics but SA (for example) can be implied but I don't want details about it. I understand that kind of thing exists in that world and can affect characters behaviors (much like irl) but if it happens I'd rather not go into the details it's just disgusting. Only implying for the character arc, or plotline. Not because you enjoy it 🤢

no pedo's or bestiality, that sort of thing is just NO 🤢

pls tell me if you don't like something i write and I will do the same, communication is key to enjoying role plays

absolutely LOVE plot

If you want our hotd universe could always lead into a got universe!

I have multiple oc's once we start discussing and depending on who you play for me will determine on the oc I share with you. Love Interests I like:

Criston Cole♥

Aegon II Targaryen♥

Daemon Targaryen♥

Addam of Hull♥

Aemond Targaryen

Hugh Hammer

Corlys Velaryon

Harwin Strong

Willem Blackwood

Viserys I Targaryen

Otto Hightower

Dyana

Gwayne Hightower♥

Rhaenyra Targaryen♥

Helaena Targaryen♥

Alicent Hightower♥

Characters I'll play:

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targeryen

Aegon II Targaryen

Viserys I Targaryen

Laenor Velaryon

Harwin Strong

Larys Strong

Willem Blackwood

Otto Hightower

Corlys Velaryon

Gwayne Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen

Helaena Targaryen

Laena Velaryon

Alicent Hightower

Jeyne Arryn

Aemma Arryn

Mysaria

Dyana

I have multiple oc's once we start discussing and depending on who you play for me will determine on the oc I share with you.

Love interests i like:

Robb Stark♥

Jon Snow♥

Jaime Lannister♥

Tyrion Lannister

Viserys Targaryen

Jorah Mormont

Ramsay Bolton♥

Khal Drogo

Tormund Giantsbane

Oberyn Martell

Daenerys Targaryen♥

Cersei Lannister

Margaery Tyrell

Sansa Stark♥

Characters I'll play:

Eddard "Ned" Stark

Jaime Lannister

Jorah Mormont

Viserys Targaryen

Robb Stark

Jon Snow

Theon Greyjoy

Tyrion Lannister

Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish

Samwell Tarly

Bronn

Benjen Stark

Oberyn Martell

Loras Tyrell

Margaery Tyrell

Cersei Lannister

Sansa Stark

Daenerys Targaryen

Brienne of Tarth

Gilly

Ygritte

Missandei

[cdragons]

The Eastern Wind & Moon Sail to Winterfell

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Summary: 美灵 (Měilíng) and 明阴 (Míng Yīn) visit House Stark after news of Jon Arryn's death and murder arrives at Winterfell. Ned Stark senses a trouble brewing in the air. Are the vultures from King's Landing circling to soon feast on his family's flesh? Is there any way to stop it? Meanwhile, the Young Wolf begins to battle his desires for the heart and affections of one tempestuous YiTish Sea Captain.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Canon doesn't exist here *shhhhhhhh*, Ned is having a crisis, Stannis may be OOC; Robb Stark wants to Dom the hot sea captain when he's clearly a Sub; Catelyn Stark is kind of a bitch; GOT is GOT (shit's gonna go down); Yi Tish dialogue is Bold, Italicized, and Green

Author's Note: Author hasn't seen Game of Thrones in a long-ass time, so if the characters are OOC...my bad 🤷🏻‍♀️. I used Mandarin for YiTish, and translations are at the bottom. Game of Thrones belong to GRR Martin, and the regions of Yi Ti are all credited to @anya-snow. If you liked reading this, please check out the masterlist!

Arya continually stabbed her needle in the fabric as Septa Mordane gushed over Sansa’s pretty embroidery. She looked beside her and met eyes with his youngest brother’s betrothed, Shireen Baratheon. The young girl gave an encouraging smile as she also struggled with stitching and embroidery. The young Baratheon heiress preferred to lose herself in the ancient library in Winterfell or with Maester Luwin as they discussed the history of House Targaryen.

The Stark girl smiled back at the young Baratheon. She liked Shireen very much, and thought her excellent company. At night, she would recount tales and stories her sister, Minna, shared from her travels in letters or from herself. Arya felt her mood drop again as he looked at Sansa. Shireen was so lucky to have an older sister as exciting and fun as Minna—someone who would fight and travel the world. The girls were only sisters through marriage. Shireen was from Stannis Baratheon’s first marriage, as Minna was the daughter of her mother’s first in Yi Ti, but they loved each other so fiercely that blood hardly mattered.

Minna didn’t care that Shireen was scarred from Greyscale, nor did she treat her as a pitiful creature to grow with her face. Minna and her mother, Lady Mei, loved the girl to the seven hells and back. The woman loved Shireen so much that she demanded her new husband swear that Shireen’s place as his heir would not be changed if they ever had a son. Arya still remembered the night she overheard Shireen tell Rickon how Minna told her that the gods gave Shireen her scars to prevent the Maiden from cursing her.

“Minnie told me I have the most beautiful soul,” she whispered just loud enough for Arya to hear her from outside an open door. “If I were beautiful both inside and out, the Gods would have cursed me for having too much, like Aphrodite had done to Marcaria.”

Arya bitterly continued with her stitching as a dull thud entered her ears, and she turned her head in the direction of laughter outside in the courtyard.

Bran struggled as he pulled his arm to draw out the bowstring. His older brothers, Jon and Robb, stood beside him in observation to guide his lessons while his younger brother, Rickon, sat above them on a mounted saddle. When he released the bowstring, the arrow shot up and over the target and outside the wall. He looked down in dejection as his brothers began to laugh even harder.

“And which one of you was a mark smith at ten?” his father, Lord Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark, called out above them. He and Lady Catelyn Stark, nee Tully, watched him practice. Ned Stark looked at his young son and encouraged him. “Keep practicing, Bran. Go on.”

Jon Snow lowered to whisper in Bran’s ear. “Don’t think too much about it, Bran.”

“Relax your bow arm,” remarked Robb.

Just when Bran was about to release his draw, an arrow shot past him and pierced the red center of the target. Whipping his head behind him, Bran saw it was Arya with a bow about twice her height. She curtsied with a smile before Bran went after her. She let him chase after her, and soon, they were running around the courtyard.

“Quick, Bran! Faster!” called out Jon as he and Robb watched their two siblings joyfully play.

Rickon remained seated on the mounted saddle. He looked up at the window where Sansa and Shireen should be. When his mother and father told him he would marry Stannis Baratheon’s daughter last year, his mother was enraged. He overheard Mother plead with his father to reconsider the match. She did not want her youngest boy to be with someone deformed by the gods. But Father dismissed her claims.

“Shireen Baratheon is Mei’s daughter now, and she confirmed that the girl’s illness is no longer contagious.” Ned Stark firmly stated.

“You would risk our family’s health over some foreign woman’s ‘confirmation?’’ Catelyn Stark exclaimed. “How is she to know? How can you possibly trust her words so much? A woman from a land as far as hers has no way of knowing such remedies. What if she and that girl–”

Her husband cut her off. “That’s enough, Cat. I understand your worries. I do. But I will not allow you to besmirch Mei’s and her daughter’s good names. She has been a long friend of Stannis Baratheon, and now she is his wife. She would never harm children. Never.”

He noticed his words frustrated his wife, and he placed a gentle hand on her arm before laying a soft kiss on her brow. “Mei is probably the wisest woman I have ever known. And sending Shireen with her daughter isn’t so much for an engagement – but to make her comfortable around others. The boys are long used to her sister’s presence; they will take up nicely with Shireen’s.”

And the matter was settled. Rickon remembered how Mother and Sansa kept their distance from the girl when she first arrived with Minna. Minna would only stay for the first month before leaving to travel to the Reach and then Dorne. When Shireen first approached him during Luwin’s lessons, he was amazed by the book size she was carrying. The moment she opened her mouth about things like Jin and huakaʻi pō, Rickon decided that it would make him extremely happy if he spent the rest of his life with Shireen. His mother was less than pleased and stormed off to lock herself in Winterfell’s Sept. But Father only gave Rickon a proud smile and gave his hair a good tousle.

As Ned Stark and his wife laughed at the scene, they were interrupted by the small pattering of a child’s footsteps running towards them. They turned and saw Shireen Baratheon escorted by Theon Greyjoy, the Ironborn ward. The odd pair first bowed respectfully and greeted Lord and Lady Stark with their titles before Theon stepped aside for Shireen. The young girl was beaming so widely that it warmed the old Lord’s heart. He couldn’t help but pity the child for the hand life dealt her, but it filled his heart to know that she would at least experience some kindness outside her own family.

“Ah, Lady Shireen,” he greeted the girl. “What brings you here? Come to watch Bran practice?”

Shireen shook her head. “No, my lord. I just received news from Shadow. My sister is currently docked at Dragonstone, and she, Mother, and Steffard will be arriving in White Harbor in a week’s time from tomorrow!”

Ned’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. “A week? From Dragonstone to White Harbor? How will they make it so fast with her crew and that giant ship of hers?”

“They won’t be coming with her,” Shireen answered. “She’s traveled to after stopping at King’s Landing. Father is Dragonstone to take care of some things while she sails alone. My sister is a very accomplished sailor blessed with the winds’ favor, my lord. I wouldn’t be surprised if she arrived here in just five days or less.”

Ned gave a loud laugh. “Knowing she’s your mother’s daughter, it wouldn’t surprise me either. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ll be sure to prepare a guest room for them,” Lady Catelyn informed her husband before turning to Shireen. “Will your sister and Lady Baratheon bring their own handmaidens, or will they need one provided? Will your brother need a wet nurse?”

Shireen shook her head. “Oh no, my lady! My sister greatly dislikes the idea of handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting! But Minnie said that she would be bringing Wu! And my mother prefers to nurse my brother.”

Lady Catelyn Stark’s smile faltered slightly while Ned’s widened at the mention of Lady Minna’s ‘pets.’ The beasts resembled more killers than travel companions. Catelyn Stark almost preferred the ruffians that made up her crew to the animals.

Shireen turned to Theon. “Do you think Ari will enjoy spending time with another bird? I would feel awful if he became lonely from Shadow’s arrival.”

Theon gave a sincere smile to the young girl before tousling her hair. “I think nothing would make him happier, my lady. He was bored out of his mind being alone with the ravens before Baleor’s arrival. What’s one more?”

Rodrick walked up to his lord and lady to inform them that they had captured a deserter of the Wall, and they were ready to give his execution. Ned Stark’s expression became somber hearing the news as his eyes darted to the young Shireen. He ordered Theon to escort her and Rickon to Maester Luwin for their lessons before telling Robb and Jon to saddle their horses. When the Greyjoy ward left, he informed Rodrick that Bran would join them. This gave concern to his wife.

“Ned,” she pleaded. “Ten is too young to see such things.”

“He won’t be a boy forever,” her husband replied. “And winter is coming.”

Bran kept thinking about the words his father had imparted to him after he had taken off the deserter’s head with Ice.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.”

It still confused him. He wanted to ask Robb when Father stopped in the middle of the road. He made a right turn toward the river. Jon was right behind Father while Bran followed. It was a direwolf! But…it was dead, and it had pups! But as excited as Bran was, he made no sound. Everyone around him was silent as they all stood in awe at the dead symbol of their house.

“It’s a freak,’ remarked Theon.

Father corrected him. ‘It’s a direwolf–” he looked at Rodrick for a moment in shock before grabbing the antler lodged in its throat “–tough old beast.”

“There are no direwolves South of the Wall,” commented Robb.

“Now there are five,” remarked Jon, picking one pup in his arms and handing it to Bran. “You want to hold it?”

The pup’s fur was white with speckles of grey across its body. Its body squirmed as it whined and whimpered at the change of its surroundings – and for the death of its mother.

Bran looked up at his brother. “Where will they go? Their mother’s dead.”

With a heavy heart, Rodrick answered the young lordling’s question. “They don’t belong down here.”

Ned Stark stood with his sword in hand. “Better a quick death. They won’t last without their mother.”

“Right,” Theon unsheathed his blade and reached for the pup in Bran’s arms. “Give it here.”

“No!” Bran cried as Theon looked mildly distressed at the boy’s plea.

“Put away your blade,” Robb commanded his friend. He didn’t like to give Theon orders – especially since the boy was more like a brother to him than just a ward his father brought from the Iron Islands, but he didn’t want to spill the direwolf pup’s blood.

Nonetheless, Robb’s words irked Theon. “I take orders from your father, not you.”

But Bran couldn’t allow the pups to die. He continued to plead with his father. “Please, Father!”

“I’m sorry, Bran.” The lord didn’t like seeing his young so upset, but he needed to understand the way of the world. It would be cruel to let the pups live – only to struggle to live and die before winter comes.

“Lord Stark–” Ned turned around to his son’s voice “–there are five pups—one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them.”

“And what about you?” thought Ned. “Are you not my child? Why should you be denied the right to wear and own the sigil of my house – your house? Even if you carry neither mine nor your mother’s name- are you still not of my blood?”

 He looked at his son with sad and hurt eyes as if reliving a memory from another lifetime ago. When everyone turned to him, waiting for an answer, he replied sternly and somberly.

“You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves.” And with bitter anger on his tongue, he spat out. “And if they die, you will bury them yourselves.”

As Jon handed two more direwolf pups in Robb’s arms, Bran turned to his brother. “What about you?”

Jon hesitated before answering. “I’m not a Stark. Get on.”

But as they began to leave, Jon heard small and faint whimpers from below. He walked down to try and locate it. Robb and Theon stopped to ask if there was a problem. For his answer. He held up a sixth direwolf pup – one with stark white fur like snow and piercing blood-red eyes.

“Ah, the runt of the litter,” Theon quipped with a smug smirk. “That one’s yours, Snow.”

Jon looked at Greyjoy with exasperation, while Robb looked pleased and grateful for the albino pup’s existence. At the very least, his favorite brother also had a direwolf. He was a Stark – whether his mother liked it or not.

The ride back to Winterfell was quiet in the front, with the grown men still somber and sullen from the execution. But the boys were speaking with one another with great excitement for bringing home new members of their family. Robb and Theon were riding in front of Jon and Bran. Bran was still thinking about what the deserter said about the white walkers. Was he lying? Was Father right about mad men seeing what they want to see? But…he didn’t look mad.

“Quite the day for the lad. Eh, Bran?” Theon called out to him as Bran broke from his thoughts. “First, your first deserter execution. Next, you and your siblings are getting a direwolf each. And to think, I thought Shireen’s sister’s arrival would be the most exciting news of the day.”

“What?” thought Bran. His thoughts about white walkers and deserters were quickly replaced by news of his friend's arrival.

“Minnie’s coming?” he excitedly asked with a broad smile and bright eyes. “Did she say when? Is she bringing Wu with her?”

Theon’s news also caught Jon’s and Robb’s attention. Jon was lost in his thoughts since finding the albino wolf pup. Robb was thinking about Arya’s and Rickon’s reactions to receiving the privilege of caring for their house’s sigil. But now, something of greater import came to their attention.

“Ming’s coming?” asked Jon. “Are you sure?”

Theon smirked at the bastard’s excitement. “I was with her when Shadow flew up to her with a message tied on its leg – escorted the Lady Shireen myself when she told Lord and Lady Stark. Lass was practically jumping off the walls after reading it.”

“Did she say when she would be arriving? Are Lord Stannis and his lady wife coming with her?” asked Robb.

Theon shook his head. “She says she’s in Dragonstone to prepare for her stay. She’ll be at White Harbor in a week. She’s bringing their mother and brother, too. But Lord Stannis won’t be joining them this time.”

This greatly confused Bran and his brothers. Lord Stannis was infamous for his sour expressions and austereness – but anyone who had the privilege of meeting him now would see how much the company of his second wife softened his hard nature. Stannis Baratheon was a man who showed no love for his brothers, but he adored the women and girls in his life. An adoration now extended to his youngest child, his only son.

For such a man to not travel with his wife was a strange and unusual occurrence.

“Why is Lord Stannis not traveling with Minnie and Lady Mei?” asked Bran. His brows furrowed before worry took hold of him. “Did he and Lady Mei fight, and she’s running away with their son?”

“Bran, that’s enough,” ordered Jon. “Everyone knows how much Lord Stannis respects Lady Mei’s advice. I’m sure he's not joining them because there’s too much to do at King’s Landing. Being King Robert’s brother gives him a great number of duties.”

Theon turned to Jon with a wide smirk. “Awfully defensive of Lady Mei’s honor – aren’t you, Snow? Think that’ll grant you any favors from her daughter, ‘Minion’?”

“Don’t call her that!” Bran called out.

Jon sputtered his response with red-tipped ears. “You know how much she hates being called that. Or do you want a repeat of what happened in the courtyard when you and Robb first called her that? And, of course, I care about Minna’s mother – I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t.”

Jon shouldn’t be as excited as he was at that moment. But he couldn’t help himself. Ming – his Ming – was coming to Winterfell. She was everything Jon wanted in an older sibling. She was invincible and told him as such. She and her mother had never once treated him differently from the rest of the Stark Children after learning of his bastard status. Whenever he got in over his head about his birth, she would always manage to ground him in some way. Once, he asked her if she was trying to trick him. She stared at him briefly before rolling up a piece of paper and swatting his head.

He still remembered her scowl with fondness.

“Do I look as stupid as Catelyn Stark to you?” she interrogated. “Who cares if you’re a bastard? You care about your siblings and work hard to be a worthy son despite the world giving you an excuse not to. I’ve given you some of my favorite fruits from my homeland, and you dare ask me if my friendship towards you was a ruse?! Don’t be stupid, Jon.”

He wept like a baby. He had never felt so happy in his life, and all he could do was thank his friend while weeping for joy. And to make him stop crying, she let him cry on her shoulder as she softly stroked his hair.

“Yeah,” snorted Theon. “Friend – sure.”

“That’s enough,” Robb cut in. “All of you. You want Father to scold us?”

Robb could tell his brothers were ecstatic about Ming’s arrival, but he had conflicting emotions about the news. Ming Yin Baratheon was a woman grown who was older than him by two years, the same age as Theon. Ming always had a wicked and brash tongue on her. When they first met, she was his height but so skinny and dressed so plainly with dirt streaks on her face.

Was it really so bad if he assumed she was smallfolk?

Then Theon dared him to tug on her braid while she was reading a book in the courtyard. A stupid dare between stupid boys resulted in them running for their lives with tears down their cheeks as a short and bookish girl chased them with a broom twice her height. She shouted out curses and promises of all the vile things she would do to them as she violently swung the broom through the air with fire in her eyes and poison on her tongue.

It took the combined efforts of Stannis, his father, Rodrick, and Jory to pry her off when she caught up to them. In the end, Robb’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as Luwin treated his bleeding nose, black eye, and bruises across his body while he and Father occasionally snickered to themselves. His mother nearly had a heart attack at the state of her eldest child. When she heard what had happened and tried to scold the girl, Ming only responded by blowing her tongue and spraying her spittle at the Tully woman. Even with more dirt on her cheeks than before and her braid ruined, she carried herself in such an unrelenting dignified manner that Robb couldn’t help but envy it.

At the very least, Theon was in no better state than him.

How in the Seven Hells could a girl of nine years manage to fight off four grown men? The memory stumped Robb then and still stumped him now.

“Scared of meeting the Demoness from Dragonstone?” Theon smugly asked when he saw his friend staring in the distance. “Or are you worried she won’t be impressed with your new height and strength when she sees you haven’t improved your writing?”

Robb scoffed at Theon’s words. “No, don’t be ridiculous.”

He refused to believe that he cared so much for some quick-tempered girl who always teased him– even if she had shiny black hair that ended at her waist and sharp, expressive dark eyes with full lips. It didn’t matter that she haunted his dreams every night since she was in Winterfell when she turned fourteen. It didn’t matter to Robb that Minna was the epitome of an exotic beauty with enough fire in her soul for any Northern winter to freeze her. It didn’t matter to Robb that she was closer to Jon than to him.

“I’ll kiss you when you finally beat me.”

It didn’t matter to Robb – none of it.

“I’m not scared of Minna, Theon – so stop trying to bait me.” Robb let that be the final word before riding ahead just behind his father.

Meanwhile, Ned had heard everything passed between the boys while riding in the front. He chuckled at Bran’s excitement. He was sure he would be climbing the gates of Winterfell every day to wait for Minna’s arrival. It was no secret to anyone in the Stark family or those working in Winterfell that Bran had a bit of a crush on the tempestuous sailor. While his wife disliked the girl, Ned was very fond of her. Her temper and sharp tongue reminded him of Mei when he first met her. Not to mention that she was the spitting image of Mei at that age.

He wasn’t too old to be oblivious to how his sons acted around pretty girls – especially girls like her. Northern women were one thing, but Mei and Minna were an entire league of women. There had never been two women who would turn Westeros upside down and inside out as much as them. Mei had turned the forever stoic Stannis Baratheon into a feeling human, became the most respected woman in the Keep, and opened trade opportunities for Westeros. At the same time, Minna tore down every obstacle in her path to pursue knowledge and made Dragonstone one of the richest keeps in the Seven Kingdoms – not that Robert or his queen will ever get a hold of a single coin from her.

When Ned and his sons returned to Winterfell, he was immediately bombarded with questions from the rest of his children about whether Minnie was really coming to Winterfell. They asked if he knew about whether he knew she was bringing gifts from her travels. Arya wanted to know if she would give her a dagger forged by the Master blacksmiths from Qohor. Rickon hoped she would bring any sweets and candied fruits.

Even Sansa couldn’t hide her excitement. Despite the girls' differences, Minna would bring Sansa the most exquisite fabrics, accessories, and books. The gifts were more often than not used as a way to distract her from any pranks or tricks pulled on her. Thankfully, Mei would be here as well. Sansa held Lady Mei Baratheon on nearly the same high pedestal as her mother. She would tell how beautiful Sansa was growing and how her grace and charm rivaled the most beautiful empresses from her homeland. She would sing praises of how her stitching looked more impressive than the last time she’d seen it while sharing news of the latest trends worn among noble women worldwide.

Excitement filled the halls of Winterfell at the news of their guests. Preparations were underway for their arrival. Ned went to the Godswood and shone his sword under the branches of the Old Weirwood tree for some peace. He was grateful for the life the Old Gods blessed him with. This was not the life he was meant to have. Everything of his should have been Brandon’s – his wife, his title, his responsibilities – but he wouldn’t change any of it, not for all of the power and gold in the world.

But his world would be crashing down around him when his wife arrived with a message from King’s Landing.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Catelyn told him with sympathetic eyes. Then she told him Jon Arryn had died, and Robert and his wife would travel to Winterfell with their children and the Queen’s brothers.

Ned looked down at his feet. “If he’s traveling this far North, it’s for one thing.” He looked at his wife in hidden fear. “He wants to make me his Hand.”

“First Mei, now Robert,” thought Ned when he shared the news to his children. “May the Old Gods and New protect my family for what’s to come.”

Bran watched the road to his father’s keep from the top of the gates. He saw a single dot moving closer and closer until the dot became a wheelhouse. His eyes widened in excitement as his smile broadened in anticipation for his friend in the horse-drawn carriage that carried House Baratheon’s banner. He stood up and ran across the edge or beginning to climb down the tower. He reached the ground to run to his father at the stables.

“They’re here! They’re here!” he exclaimed when he reached him. The boy was practically bouncing on his heels for barely containing his elation.

Ned chuckled at the sight of his son. “Who, Bran?”

“Minnie! There’s a wheelhouse coming! It carries the sigil of House Baratheon!”

“Was anyone carrying the banner?” his father asked with a quizzical brow raised.

Bran shook his head. “No, but I saw it painted on the top of it.”

“Alright, then,” nodded Ned as he gave his son instructions. “Gather your brothers, sisters, and Shireen. I’ll prepare your mother. Tell them to gather in the courtyard to greet them.”

Bran nodded before doing as his father instructed. He swiftly ran through the familiar halls of the Winterfell keep that was his home. He found Sansa, Arya, and Shireen with Septa Morgane. They were learning their sums when Bran burst into the room. Septa Morgane scolded him for acting so brashly, but her words were quickly ignored when Bran told the girls that Minnie and her mother would soon arrive. As soon as the news left his mouth, Shireen dashed right past him, followed by his sisters.

Jon, Robb, and Theon were already in the courtyard, sparring with wooden swords, when Bran found them. They immediately put away their wooden swords and met their father with Rodrick right behind them. Father and Mother stood side-by-side when Robb stood to Father’s left. Rickon stood next to their mother, and Shireen stood next to him with an eager smile beaming on her face. Sansa stood to Robb’s left, Arya on her right, and Bran was on hers. Jon and Theon were behind them – Theon was a Greyjoy, but Ned Stark’s ward. Jon was a Stark by blood…but not by name.

Shireen was bouncing on the tips of her toes in hopes that time would move faster. The days since her sister’s letter of her arrival moved so slowly, and she could hardly sleep a wink last night for this moment.

“Do you think she missed me?” she whispered to Rickon.

“Of course! Minnie loves you more than anything!” Rickon replied. “Even more than her own ship, I think.”

The loud creaks and groans of the aged wood crept closer and closer until the wheelhouse stopped in the courtyard’s center. The driver ensured the horses were calm and stable before leaping from his seat and opening the doors. A vision in a marigold silk tunic with trumpet sleeves and gold floral patterns paired with a gold belt around her waist. It was a shame that such finery was hidden underneath a thick wool cloak with a thick fur mantle. Her lustrous, flowing, jet-black tresses were bound with a green ribbon and golden stitching in a single braid trailing down her back. The pendant of her husband’s sigil hung down from a simple gold chain over her bosom.

Lady Měilíng Baratheon was the second wife of Stannis Baratheon and the mother of his only son. As she stepped down from the wheelhouse, she stepped on the dirt with such grace and poise that it seemed the Mother of the Seven had come instead of a highborn lord’s wife. A woman over forty years of age who still managed to get pregnant and carry a son to term – she looked far too young to be her age.  

A small boy who could not have been taller than Ned Stark’s knee shuffled behind her. It was the little lording, Steffard Baratheon, the only son of his father and second-in-line to inherit Dragonstone after his older sister, Shireen. He wore a fine coat from a stag’s hide and little shoes to protect his feet. Like his mother, he too wore a gold pendant of his father’s sigil hung from a simple chain. Despite being blessed with most of his mother’s soft features, he certainly inherited his father’s bright blue Baratheon eyes and inky-black curls.

Seeing the boy standing next to his mother, Ned felt a hundred years older than he was. Where had the time gone? He, Mei, and Robert were all children once – children involved in a war to decide the fate of a country for its future years. Ned had once pitied the YiTish girl for the hand she was dealt in life. As a foreigner, she should have had no part in Robert’s Rebellion, but she experienced loss and grief like the rest of them nonetheless.

And now, all three of them were leaders with their own children and carrying burdens on their shoulders that their children would inherit – how the years escaped them.

Měilíng searched for her young daughter and beamed when she found her. She nudged her little son and guided his eyes to his sister. His eyes lit up as he toddled to her, warming her heart. “希希 (XīXī)!” he exclaimed as Shireen ran towards him. Her arms were spread open as Steffard leaped into her arms and wrapped his arms around her neck. “I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“I missed you too!” Shireen giggled as her body was flooded with her baby brother’s warmth.

Still locked in their reunion, the two young siblings spun in circles before falling on the ground in laughter. The scene loosened the tension as House Stark looked at the pair warmly.

When they stopped laughing, Shireen helped her brother as she looked at their mother. Mei’s smile shined as she squatted on the ground, balanced her body with her feet, and spread her arms wide open to greet her daughter. Shireen needed no instructions to race into her mother’s arms. A cocoon of love and happiness blanketed the young Baratheon girl as her face was dotted with pecks and kisses. She buried her face in the crook of her mother’s neck and breathed in her scent – her mother always smelled like the salty sea breeze of Dragonstone and peonies. To Shireen, it was as if she was transported home, and if she closed her eyes, she was back on the shores of the Dragonstone beaches, walking alongside Minnie.

“How are you, my little doe?” her mother asked as she tenderly stroked the back of her head. “Did you enjoy the books your sister and I sent you? Did you enjoy your lessons with Maester Luwin and Septa Morgane?”

Shireen answered her mother with a broad smile and starry eyes. “I am well, mother. I loved the books! But–” Shireen looked behind her mother to try to find her sister “–where is Minnie? Was she not in the wheelhouse with you and Steffard?”

Meiling shook her head as she laughed to herself. “Do not worry, little doe, your sister is here. But she is a little worse for wear after days in the wheelhouse.”

Their mother rose from her feet as her hands remained grasped with Shireen’s. She turned to the wheelhouse behind her and called out her daughter in the language of their homeland. “明阴 (Míng Yīn)! How long do you intend to keep your sister waiting?”

A weary and pained groan exited the horse-drawn transport in response. “Would you give me a minute? I’m a little busy trying not to die here!”

“You are not dying!” Měilíng scoffed. “How long do you want to keep Ned and his family waiting?”

“As soon as I’m done making sure I won’t shit or vomit my guts out! I don’t want to have to pay any additional fees for this torture device on wheels!”

“Do you need a brush for your hair?”

“NO!” A few moments passed. “OKAY! I’m good!”

The giant wooden box creaked as Shireen’s sister finally exited the wheelhouse, and she immediately breathed in the fresh air only found in the North. A young woman an entire head taller than Měilíng stepped into the light – despite the bags under her eyes and the slightly tired look on her face, she was every bit as beautiful and poised as her mother.

Míng Yīn was exactly how Ned Stark imagined her mother would have looked if Mei trained herself in combat and fighting as a child. Her dark almond-shaped eyes could either enchant a man enough to willingly give her his life or scare the souls of all her enemies. Her muscles grew and hardened after years of training under her biological father in Yi Ti before traveling around the world on open seas – fighting anyone who dared cross blades with her and leaving a trail of blood and corpses for fish to nibble on. Ned did not doubt that she would bankrupt his boys if they even dared to try and bet against her in combat.

Míng Yīn wore her hair in a half-up-down style with a part of her hair bound in a simple braid on the back of her head. Her outfit was more fitting of a sailor than a highborn noblewoman. She wore a mid-length dark blue wool robe with a silver border stitched on the hem and long sleeves. The robe was wrapped around her body in a way that left her neck, collarbones, and the slightest hint of her cleavage out in the open. The dark linen sash that held her sword and dagger further emphasized the curve of her hips and waist. The black leather breeches hugged her lower body, and the tall black leather boots highlighted the muscles of her calves.

A large black jaguar had quickly come outside the wheelhouse as well. Its pristine and shiny coat shone in the faint sunlight that bathed Winterfell. Without missing a beat, it promptly stood beside its mistress, scanning the new environment for any dangers that would risk his beloved mistress’ safety and well-being.

So, Míng had indeed brought Wu. Robb’s mother wouldn’t like that.

But unlike her mother and brother, Míng Yīn did not wear the sigil of her mother’s second husband’s house. On her neck and sitting on her breasts was a black jade pendant with a small dragon with a white eye carved into it hung from a red string. On each side of the pendant was a tiny Dragon’s Bloodstone bead.

Robb unconsciously straightened his posture at the sight of her. He felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until Ming came into view. Years’ worth of memories flooded his mind as she reached for her younger sister.

The young Baratheon girl launched herself in her sister’s arms. “Minnie! You’re here!”

Robb watched on the sidelines as Ming greeted Shireen with a dozen kisses for each month since they last saw one another. He wondered if she still smelled as cool and crisp as the ocean’s wind that blew through her hair. Or if her skin would taste as warm and bright as the sunshine soaking her skin while she stood on her ship’s dock on cloudless days.

He longed for a sample – anything would be enough.

When the two sisters parted, Wu gently lowered himself to nudge his head against Shireen. Loud purrs came from his throat as the young girl scratched that spot under his chin and stroked his back.

“Oh, Wu! You’ve become even more beautiful! Thank you for protecting Minnie!”

The beast preened at the attention. Míng Yīn was his mistress and savior and, therefore, his favorite. His eternal loyalty and love would forever belong to her. But if he had to choose a second favorite, it would belong to Shireen Baratheon – for she had the purest soul and kindest heart in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Rickon could also not contain himself and joined his betrothed to embrace her sister. The sight of two small children clinging to the person who brought fear and awe to every sailor, sea merchant, and trading company from Westeros to Essos was both comical and heartwarming. A scene that became more comical was when Míng Yīn grabbed one child each and flung them on her shoulders as if they were small sacks of flour. Wu jumped on his hind legs to play as he licked their tiny hands.

Finally, Lady Měilíng of House Baratheon and her children brought themselves to stand before the Lord of the Winterfell and knelt with one knee on the ground in a show of respect. Ned told them to raise before bringing his old friend in a tight embrace.

When they parted, he gave her a look-down to take the sight of her in fully. “Gods, look at you. How many years has it been?"

Měilíng gave a kind smile in response. “I’d say almost two years – far shorter compared to when you’ve last seen Robert.”

“How is Robert in King’s Landing? Is he working Stannis to the ground?”

Měilíng huffed in annoyance at the mention of her brother-in-law’s name. “Oh, of course. The man’s too stupid and fat to do anything else but order his brother, my husband, and his Hand to run his kingdom while he eats, drinks, and whores himself to ruin.”

Everyone apart from Ned widened their eyes in shock at the woman’s words. Did she not fear for her head? Was it alright if the wife of the King’s brother said such things of him? But Mei only turned to Ned’s wife as she bowed in respect for Lady Stark.

“Lady Stark,” she spoke in a clear and calm voice. “On behalf of my husband and House Baratheon, I humbly thank you for opening your home to allow my daughter to stay with your children this past year. Your generosity was further extended to allow room for my family’s visit. I cannot imagine the stress my eldest daughter gave you when her letter stated that we would be here in less than two weeks.”

Catelyn bowed her head in response. “Think nothing of it, my lady. Lady Shireen Baratheon had been our home's most polite and wonderful guest. I am grateful you and your husband sent her to my family’s home to host her. She had quickly become my youngest son’s most favorite playmate.”

Měilíng smiled at the woman’s words. She then turned to the Stark children before greeting each and every one of them. She marveled at how tall and handsome Robb had become since childhood. She softly whispered in his ear if he were hopeful that his sparring skills improved enough to beat her daughter. Seeing him sputtering and pale skin blushing made a very amusing scene. When she came across Sansa, she gasped and held the girl’s hands in her own.

“Oh, Sansa!” she exclaimed. “Look at you! You’ve grown so beautiful and tall since I last saw you. I thought you were a princess! And your cloak – tell me, did you do the stitching?”

Sansa softly giggled as she blushed from the praise. “Yes, Lady Baratheon. I’ve improved a lot in my stitching and needlework since you last saw me – I’m sure I could even make you something, if you’d like.”

Měilíng put a gentle palm on the girl’s cheek. “I would love nothing more. Perhaps you would even convince my eldest to practice her needlework. Or even try to persuade her to stop wearing breeches and trousers when she’s not at sea.”

“Never going to happen, Mother,” interjected Míng Yīn, who had finally put Shireen and Rickon on the ground after greeting Lord and Lady Stark. “I do enough needlework on my own. Thank you very much.”

Míng Yīn’s mother turned to her daughter in exasperation. “The only time you practiced as a child for needlework was to sew wounds close after training with your father.”

“…Yeah, exactly,” Míng Yīn nodded with a slight shrug and a blank expression. “What more needlework skills are necessary after that?”

“Minnie!” shouted Arya and Bran as they both made their way to crowd the woman. After exchanging warm greetings and kind words, the most essential questions came from the younger Stark daughter’s mouth.

“Did you bring gifts?” she asked in an eager tone.

“Arya!” exclaimed her sister and mother. Both women’s faces turned red at Arya’s impoliteness as Ned and his friend only laughed at the girl’s bluntness.

Míng Yīn stroked her chin as if deep in thought. “Did I bring gifts? Huh…I wonder…that doesn’t sound like something I’d do. Is it?”

Bran jumped like a child of four after eating too much sugar. “You did! Can we see them? Please?” He turned to his father with pleading eyes.

Ned slightly shook his head. “Come on now, Bran. Let our guests first get settled in their rooms. Judging from Lady Minna’s expression, she could do for a bit of rest.”

“But after they get settled, can they give us the presents?” Rickon sweetly asked while holding Steffard’s hand on one side while Shireen held the other as they placed the baby on Wu’s back.

His mother answered as she softly stroked his head. “After they rest for a bit, then we will have supper. The cooks prepared a feast for our guests’ arrival. There will be plenty of time tomorrow.”

Even Sansa deflated a bit with her younger siblings that they couldn’t receive their presents sooner rather than later.

Míng Yīn grabbed Shireen by the back of her cloak before placing her sister on her back. Shireen was a bit shocked before she giggled at the display of her sister’s open affection and wrapped her arms around her neck as Míng Yīn looped her arms around her little legs.

“Anyone been doing this for you while I’ve been gone?” she smirked.

Shireen responded with glee. “No! I only like you doing these!”

As Robb watched his parents and sister walk off with Lady Meiling and Steffard, he figured now was as good a time as any to approach Ming. Shireen jumped off her back to her mother’s side to try and hold her brother the rest of the way to their rooms.

“Ming!” he called out. He felt his palms grow sweaty when she turned around in his direction.

He walked towards her with long, confident strides. He thought he looked intimidating, but he realized that wasn’t the case when she burst out laughing. The young lord’s ears burned at her reaction, and they only grew hotter when he heard Theon and Jon snickering behind him.

She only stopped laughing long enough to gasp out a response. “What’s with that face? You look like you swallowed a lemon!”

…Fuck, what was Robb to say in response to that? He had to be smart about this. He would not make a fool of himself. He tried his best not to stare at the jaguar staring at him with hollow eyes.

“…I’m finally taller than you,” he dumbly stated.

“Shit,” was the only echoing in Robb’s mind as he heard Jon and Theon loudly guffawed as they heard him.

He didn’t have to look behind him to know that the bastards collapsed on the ground, gasping for air.

But Míng Yīn only walked toward him while Wu did not come any closer before stopping a few feet away as she traced her eyes over his face and down his form. He saw her dark eyes crinkle with appreciation as a sweet smile spread. She snorted out through her nose as she stepped even closer until only a few inches of air were between them. Wu still hadn’t moved, but he was staring more intensely than before, and Robb wondered if his death would be from a jaguar clawing out his throat.

“Yes,” she whispered as her eyes darted to his lips. “You’re much taller now.”

Blue met black as only the noises came from their parents walking farther and farther away. Their growing distance made the space between them seem more like a separate reality. One where it was only the two of them and no one else. Robb’s eyes quickly glanced down to Ming’s lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed at the thought of them around his cock.

But that bubble burst when Míng Yīn bumped her fist into Robb’s chest and backed away with a cheeky grin and mischievous eyes.

“笨蛋 (Bèndàn), I’m still going to kick your ass in the courtyard, though.” She turned to Wu before walking. “Come on, 无牙 (Wú yá)! Let’s catch up to 小希 (Xiǎo xī )! I want to take a bath before dinner.” She turned to walk back to her family and called out to him without looking back. “You’ll always be a hundred years too early to beat me in a fight!”

Robb only stood in a daze as he watched her walk away. When Theon slapped his back, he finally came to and saw that Jon was beside him.

Theon snickered at the glare his friend gave him. “Stare at her ass any longer, and I’ll think you’ve become more scarecrow than wolf. Plus, I think the cat can sense your eyes.”

Robb only shrugged. “It’s a good ass to stare at.”

“It’s a great ass to stare at. That doesn’t make you look less stupid.”

“Can we stop talking about Ming’s backside?” Jon begged. He didn’t like talking about their friend in such a disrespectful manner, and he liked the idea of Wu tearing out their throats even less. “Let’s get back to sparring with Rodrick before the feast.”

Another reason to adore Míng Yīn – she hated it when Jon wasn’t included in the feasts while she was staying at Winterfell. The feast of her first coming to Winterfell with her mother was marked mainly by how she walked out of the Great Hall and returned with Jon. She dragged him by the wrist before seating him right next to her at the table.

Jon was terrified Lady Stark would berate his new friend for deliberately bringing the bastard to the feast. But all that came was a stare-down between the Lady Stark and Ming Yin. Lady Stark’s face was red with embarrassment, and she stared down at the girl with the most terrifying look Jon had ever seen. Just remembering the expression gave chills down his spine.

But Ming refused to back down. She unblinkingly returned the lady’s stare with her own, and it was as if a silent war had broken out. Ming wasn’t afraid of the red-haired fish with crow’s feet under her eyes. A wolf by marriage was hardly a wolf at all. She wasn’t going to be beaten in a battle of wills – not then, not ever.

Ned sat by his wife, wondering if Mei would bring war to his feet if his wife killed her beloved daughter. Meiling sat beside Lady Stark in rapt interest for the events unfolding. She always loved it when her little goblin decided to enact her idea of justice. She loved it even more when she took charge.

After what seemed like hours, Lady Stark conceded to the girl as she returned to her meal. Ming turned to Jon with bright stars in her clever eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asked with a broad smile. “I’m invincible.”

Since then, Jon has always included every time a feast was held for the YiTish women. An act of genuine kindness that was appreciated by all of Jon’s siblings and his father.

An act that only deepened the infatuation of a confident young wolf with dark auburn curls and bright blue eyes.

An infatuation that the Gods saw morph into obsession as they felt shivers course through their divine forms in anticipation of the future ahead.

*Additional Notes:

The characters from Yi Ti and other countries in this stories will different ways of how they are referred

Míng Yīn's Nicknames and Who uses them:

Ming - Robb, Theon, Jon, Sansa, and Catelyn Stark

Minna - Ned (he is the only one allowed)

Míng Yīn - Luwin

Minnie - Shireen, Rickon, Arya, Bran

Měilíng's Nicknames and Who uses them:

Mei - Robert, Ned, Renly, and Stannis

Translations:

希希 (XīXī) - Hope Hope; 希 means "hope"; Shireen's name in Chinese is written as 希琳 (Xī lín), in which 希 means "hope," and 琳 means "forest." Because Steffard is a baby who grew up hearing Yi Tish and Westerosi Common, it makes sense he would refer to Shireen with a nickname.

小希 (Xiǎo xī ) - Little Hope; another nickname for Shireen, but specifically from her older sister. Míng Yīn is a girl who is thousands of miles away from her hometown, Wan, in Yi Ti. When her mother married Stannis, she had to leave everyone she ever loved, including her older brother. But seeing baby Shireen have her hope that everything would turn out for the better.

明阴 (Míng Yīn) - 明 means "bright," and 阴 is the character used for "yin" in the Chinese philosophy of "yin and yang". The character's direct translation is "negative," but it is also used to describe "femininity, moon, water, and earth" as it represents the female principle of the universe

笨蛋 (Bèndàn) - Fool or dumbass; 笨 means "fool," while 蛋 means "egg." Technically, the direct translation is "foolish egg," but most people will use it to call someone an idiot.

无牙 (Wú yá) - toothless; 无 means "none," while 牙 means "tooth"; Míng Yīn named him this because when she first found him as a cub, he didn't have any teeth.

杀手 (Shāshǒu) - killer; this is Shadow's actual name; Shadow is a Peregrine Falcon

Tagging: @succnfuccubus, @valeskafics, @arcielee, @anya-snow, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @jamera-ash, @lillian-morningstar, @strangedragonqueen, @writingsofwesteros, @a-libra-writes, @leonkennedyslefthand, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @hd-junglebook, @what-the--curtains, @axelsagewrites

[sprintingfox]

New fic is out! Zokla (Theon Grejoy x OC) is available on Quotev, Wattpad, and Archive Of Our Own!

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Past full-length ASOIAF fics (completed):

1. Breaker, Broken (Targaryen OC x Jorah Mormont)

2. Ursa Major (Umber OC x Tormund Giantsbane)

3. Northern Sun (Lannister OC x Robb Stark)

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Past ASOIAF one-shots (found in the Sprinting Fox: Unwritten book):

1. Targaryen OC x Aegon Targaryen II (HotD)

2. Targaryen OC x Otto Hightower (HotD)

3. Lannister OC (DARK HotD AU) *easter egg of this found in my Robb Stark fic!*

4. Storm OC x Jon Snow (GoT, very brief, no interaction, only fic set-up)

5. Targaryen OC x Jacaerys Velaryon (HotD)

6. Lothbrok OC x Daenerys Targaryen (GoT / Vikings)

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Future ASOIAF fics:

1. OC x Viserys Targaryen (GoT S1 - onward)

2. OC x Yara Greyjoy (GoT S1 - onward)

3. HotD OC (HotD S1 - onward) *no true love interest + may have darker themes*

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Potential One-Shots

OC x Cregan Stark

OC x Rhaenyra Targaryen