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freakassfemme · 10 months ago

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(Smut) Captain's Quarters - Yara Greyjoy x CisF!Reader

Summary: Princess Y/N, sibling of Queen Daenerys, has returned with her sister for a visit to the Iron Islands. These visits used to be more commonplace, but the two have not visited the islands since before the Battle of Winterfell. Y/N has a strong attachment to the islands, but finds her attachment has extended to its reigning monarch in a new, unfamiliar way.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, praise kink (kinda), the works

A/N: Long time no see! I got so sick and tired of there being no reader insert for Yara that I arose from the dead with 4.2K words of yara-posting. Yara-yearning, if you will.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The night was surprisingly warm for the Iron Islands, and the salty mist of the beaches hung heavy in the air and clung to the sway of your hips and undone hair. Your hands clutched your silken robe shut as you leisured through the sand, a soothing waft of lavender from your recent bubble bath hitting your nose with a gentle breeze.

You paused at the base of the shore, where the brine nipped at your toes and you tilted your head back, deeply inhaling into your chest. Your eyes slipped shut.

It wasn't often you and your sister were able to visit the islands, but gods above, you had missed it. Queen Yara had earned a special place in Daeneyrs's heart after her proven loyalty to the Dragon Queen, and thus routine visits were necessary to uphold the alliance between the Greyjoys and the remaining Targaryens. Sometimes it felt like you had grown up here, and sometimes the coldness of Pyke felt more familiar to you than anything back home, despite how long it had been since you had returned.

You would never admit it, but something about the sea and the people on this particular side of the world had consumed you during all these years of visits. Something about the people's wildness and the way it mimicked the ocean that mothered the island spoke to you and whispered to you at night and danced on your eyelids in spirals and swirls.

Some other nights, when the whispers never came, you would hold a large shell up to your ear and pray. The beloved gift had always answered you with the melodic pounding of waves against rocks, against ships, and lured you to sleep. In your dreams, you would sink into your deepest desires.

In this realm, much below the surface level of what was true and probable, you would find yourself standing beside an iron throne. This was not unusual for you -- you had been born to stand behind your brother, and then readjusted to beside your sister. Your duty had always been protecting the honor of this seat and whomever presides in it, and yet this integral piece of your mind, heart, body and soul vanished in these moments, and instead, you found yourself for once atop of the throne.

Well, atop of its monarch.

Clawing at the throne, which was not particularly jagged and sharp like the one your sister sat upon, and clawing at the crowned, whose calloused hands curled inside you and rough lips whispered filthy promises to you in a voice that sounded an awful lot like

"Yara!"

You stumbled away from the shore, whose once soothing pulls had now gone ice cold and stabbed at your feet and at hem of your robe. Your hand readjusted the collar of your robe out of instinct, as your sense slowly settled, though your burning cheeks lingered a bit too long.

Turning towards the disturbance, your eyes caught on the closest (and largest) docked ship, whose windows and deck harbored light and celebration. A group of sailors and soldiers drank merrily and called for a straggling participant, who marched towards the boat and waved them off, enjoying the attention in her own way. In this moment, you were grateful that the shadows of the cliffs behind you hid your so very clearly out of place figure.

Your attention followed Yara as she boarded the ship, and despite the distance, you could make out the way they all greeted her with a clasp on the shoulder, pat on the back, or smack on the bottom. The corners of your mouth turned up at the raw, unabashed display of admiration.

Shudders ran down your back and you ignored the way your stomach turned. For a moment, you thought about heading back to the castle. Nauseatingly, you thought about knocking on your sister's door and spilling these secrets to her and beg for direction, a command, anything.

Daenerys was the closest thing you had to a mother, and the urge to crawl into her arms and wait for guidance on this troubling issue consumed you as it always had, but you were a woman now, a delicate one, but blossomed and bled nonetheless, and you had witnessed your own sister's call to these womanly urges, and it was incredibly reminiscent of this pull you felt to the Ironborn Queen.

Your mind wandered back to your arrival this morning.

"It has been so long since I've returned," you said to Daenerys as you marveled over the aged walls of Pyke. Your hand danced across the slotted stone, digging your finger into chipped areas and rubbing your thumb against the in-between space.

Daenerys smiled knowingly, hands clasped softly in front of her. Missendei, Tyrion, and Greyworm trailed closely behind.

"How long has it been?" You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Not since before the war, my lady," Tyrion added, and you turned to him, nodding with a solemn smile.

"It has been nearly that long since I have seen the rest of the Greyjoys, as well. Not since Theon."

Tyrion and Daenerys nod respectfully, reminiscing on Theon's death and the bravery that presumed it. A small silence ensued.

"I never understood how you have adapted so well to this cold, my lady," Missendei said, sweetly cutting the silence.

"She is a dragon," Daenerys replied, reaching out to brush a bit of her sister's hair back into place. "She provides her own warmth."

The throne room was modest in size but exuberant in its carvings, luxurious enough to suggest status but rugged enough to represent the people it ruled. You couldn't help but admire it all, it being so vastly different from the outright lushness of Mereen or even Dragonstone.

Of course, the architecture was not the only thing you were interested in. You turned your attention to the throne, and immediately stopped. Your sister continued for only a few steps more, taking her place in front of you.

"Yara," Daeneyrs greeted with a warm smile.

Yara strutted forward with an unmatched level of confidence, and you couldn't help but stare at the way her leather tunic hugged her strong shoulders. You were used to Yara not dressing like any other lady you had known, but couldn't help but always think the natural defiance in her pants and boots exuded power and self-assurance. Yara looked somehow more bold and stronger than you had ever seen her, and it was admirable in an unfamiliar, indescribable way.

"My queen," Yara bowed in her own way, a half-smirk ever-present, "It is an honor."

The two clasped arms, and Daenerys smiled before turning to you.

"I'm sure you remember my little sister, Princess Y/N."

Yara's attention followed, and you couldn't help the way you held your breath and stared up at her with widened eyes. It was like you were seeing her for the first time.

"Princess Y/N."

Yara said your name like she was trying it on, but in truth she had always used formalities in this way, especially towards you. In your aw-stricken mind, you'd like to think that her gaze softened a bit. She had never looked at you like this before.

"Your return has been long-awaited."

She outstretched her hand, and you took it with both of your hands, feeling yourself relax into it. Your eyes watered a bit, and you squeezed, unable to avoid the way you beamed up at her.

"I have missed the islands dearly."

Your sister had given in to her own desires, and she had lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you would too.

The ground seemed to push you towards the ship, and by the time your eyes unglossed and you regained clarity, you found yourself standing at the base of the footway. You of course had been on many vessels that belonged to the Iron Fleet, and you knew the people on board rather well, but you couldn't help but feel nervous now. These men were rather drunk, and you knew you probably should have an escort this late. Not even status could always safeguard a lady from the hands of depravity and sin. Stupidly, you grabbed on to the ropes of the ramp and pulled yourself aboard.

Immediately the overwhelming stench of ale and piss cause you to wrinkle your nose.

"Gods above," you whispered to yourself. Though you had been quiet, the sailors very quickly took notice of your presence.

"Princess!" one called, waving at you with his mug of ale. It sloshed over the sides and splashed, narrowly missing you. The men around him jokingly scolded him.

"Come on Ravos, you don't want to ruin her dress," a dark haired, stout man called Yohn slurred.

"Don't look like she's wearing much of a dress to me."

The men turned to you once more, and your ears burned, now with a much more uncomfortable feeling as they eyed you. One coughed and shifted on his feet.

You wrapped your robe tighter, straightening yourself up like you had been taught. You narrowed your eyes slightly, and responded directly to Ravos.

"Where can I find Yara?" You asked, hoping you exuded more authority than the piece of meat you felt like.

Reacting much more appropriately, he turned and pointing towards the North end of the ship.

"Captain's quarters," he grunted, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, and the fifteen or so men stumbled backwards to allow for a path.

Carefully you stepped over puddles of questionable substances and shards of glass, maintaining as much grace and fierceness as you could muster. Behind you, the men resumed their activities, seemingly already over the drunken encounter. You knocked once on the Captain's door, before hurriedly slipping inside, eager to escape the sailors.

As you shut the door and turned to face her, you had to carefully force out a normal respiration rate. Yara was propped up in her chair with her boots resting on the desk, holding her own stein, though her sobriety seemed much more intact.

"Hello, princess."

Yara didn't bother hiding her surprise. She set her stein down and dropped her arms to the ends of her arm rest. A smirk creeped across her face, and she leaned her head back as she very obviously eyed you up and down, legs spreading a bit for a better view. Despite her brute persona, she did seem to try to hide the way she stuttered over the V of your robe.

You noticed anyways.

"A little far from the dressing room, are we?" She nodded at your outfit. You blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back and sat up. "You should know better than to walk around alone at night like that, especially here."

"I'm not alone now," you replied softly. Here in the candlelight, she was able to see you fully.

Yara took notice of the way you wrung your hands together, the way your eyes were glued to the loose laces of her tunic, the rose hue of your cheeks and ears, and your long, snow-white hair falling in loose curls around you.

Yara had known you for half a decade at this point. When she first met you, you were a scrawny, timid little girl who watched from Daeneyrs's shadow. To be fair, you were still quite shy, but you were a woman now, not nearly the little bird of a lady that you used to be. Now, in the warm lighting, she could see that these days you were more of a snow leopard than a cub, and you looked almost regal.

For a moment, Yara wondered what you would look like on the throne instead of your sister. Her hands squeezed at her chair at the idea, and she concluded that that was an image that would inspire millions.

Yara's eyes returned to your face, recomposing her commanding demeanor. She shrugged and stood, traipsing leisurely towards you.

Your eyes' followed each other, studying the other until they met. Yara had never looked at you this way, not that you could recall, and the curiosity in her face sent a thrill down your spine and fueled your ego.

"Oh, but I am as much as of a predator as any man out there, princess," Yara countered.

Peculiarly, you stepped forward, taking Yara by surprise at this newfound confidence. She watched you, and noticed something lurking behind your irises, something Yara was very familiar with and could feel exuding off of your body, but ten fold. She knew why you had come.

"And I am a dragon," You murmured, meeting her eyes without hesitation. Up close, you looked even more feral than before, with the sea spray making a wild mess of your hair, and each rock of the boat interrupting your breaths.

Yara backed up to sit on the edge of her desk, and you followed, keeping the distance small but not yet close enough. Yara waited for you to make a move with unusual patience. You raised your hand to caress the open area of her shirt with your palm, then push it aside just a few inches to trace her collarbone with your index and middle finger.

"Are you scared of dragons, Yara?"

"Anyone in their bloody right mind is scared of dragons," she replied, watching your hand as her breathing grew heavy. You giggled, reaching your hand around to cup the space between her ear and neck, letting your thumb rub her jaw.

"Are you scared of me?" You spoke quietly, like it was a secret meant to be kept safe between the two of you.

"I'm hungry for you," she growled, eyes heavy with desire. You felt your core throb in an entirely new way, letting out a small whimper at the feeling.

Finally, Yara reached out, hand splaying across your lower back, where she could finally feel that the robe was the only thing preserving your modesty, and she could've fainted at the realization.

"I've never been with a dragon before," Yara confessed, halfway a joke, yet halfway entirely all too true. You brought up her other hand to truly cup her face, bring her attention to you.

"I've never been with anyone before," You whispered, and for a second Yara could see that familiar timidness she knew of you flicker between the lust clouding your vision. "You are the only person I've ever wanted."

Yara let out a small noise at this. "Then you must be starved."

You nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

"Can I?"

"Please."

The first thing Yara noticed was how warm you are. Your lips against hers were like fire, and your soft whimpers made her want to crawl inside the flames and be burnt alive. You practically fell against her, knees going week, but she grasped you with both hands and held you up.

This alone was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your ears rung from the intensity and your nails dug into Yara's skin ever so slightly, illiciting a gasp from her that you greedily swallowed.

Yara reached back with one hand, pushing herself off to stand, keeping you slotted between her legs. She turned you both, pushing you against the desk until you were sitting atop it now. You raked your hands over her shirt, grasping at it and pulling her as close as you could. Yara put her hands between you and undid the tie to your robe, hurriedly pulling it off your shoulders. She reached under your thighs, lifting you up by them and letting the robe fall on to the floor.

As Yara angled you on to the desk, you propped your arms behind yourself, baring your legs to her. She paused, staring at your bare form and licked her lips.

"Gods below," she growled, running her hands up your body. You shivered as they danced over your thighs and ghosted over your breasts. "You're fucking stunning."

Yara pushed back between your legs. The warmth of her skin against yours and the cold leather of her pants pressing against your bare sex made you moan. Yara shoved her hand back behind your back and laid you down flat.

"Such a pretty cunt," she whispered, tracing her thumb over you. You gasped at the touch, and watched as she brought it up.

"Do you know what this is, sweet girl?" Yara watched the way the wetness glistened on her finger, and you nodded your head.

She grinned, then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked it clean. You whimpered at the sight, nearly panting now in desperation.

She leaned down to kiss to you and forced her tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and at the taste, grabbing on to the back of her head and pushing back with your own tongue. Yara groaned into your mouth and grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss, if that was even possible.

Yara's scent and touch and taste consumed you, feeding into every one of your senses and bleaching them until all that was left was her.

Finally, Yara put her hand against your chest and pushed you back against the desk.

"Be a good girl and open your legs a bit more for me," she commanded, and without a single underlying thought, you obeyed, gasping at the way your stomach turned at the petname. You watched with slightly parted lips, panting, as Yara sunk to her knees, staring into your eyes so intensely that you couldn't even think about looking away.

She settled between your legs and brought her hands to rest up on your thighs, just in case. You pushed up on your elbows, trying to see what she was going to do, when she pressed a firm kiss to your sex. You groaned, cheeks going pink, and Yara reacted similarly.

She kissed again, this time open mouthed, and gently sucked on your growing bud. You could feel your cunt pulsing, and your thighs quivered around Yara's head, but she held firm.

She licked stripes around your clit, teasing you before giving it a direct swipe that had you balling your fists and curling your toes.

"Yara!" You gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because the voices outside of the room suddenly quieted. You froze, looking down at her in panic, but she didn't share the same concern.

Instead, Yara chuckled, murmured your own name against your cunt almost tauntingly, and without any warning, eased her tongue inside of you. Your whole body stuttered, and you slammed your hand against the desk. Yara gripped your legs even tighter and repeated the motion, and you couldn't find it in you to keep quiet, not with the way Yara was working you like she was eating her last meal.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching. You head fell back, curls falling with it, and Yara swore she had never seen anything more stunning or satisfying. Yara's own cunt throbbed impossibly hard, but she continued her merciless assault, drawing curse after curse from you, until Yara was certain the men outside knew exactly what was going on and with whom.

Yara stood and pulled your hips closer to the edge of the desk. Holding you by your hips, she rocked her hips against your core, and you gasped at the new sensation. You grabbed her shoulder, holding yourself up.

Yara cradled your face with one hand, and you buried yourself in her arm, ear pressed against her chest, whining and whimpering. She pressed kisses into your neck, nipping at it and bruising it. Slowly, Yara stopped her hips, and just as you started to get question it, she spoke.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She teased, and you cried out, nodding desperately into her arm. Yara laughed, and then when you felt her middle and ring finger prodded at your entrance, you clenched down, gasping.

"Relax, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing right behind your ear. "I'm going to take good care of you."

You shuddered against her, but tried your best to settle down. Yara started pushing in again, and you clenched again out of instinct, this time clamping down on her fingers. She groaned into your ear.

"You're so tight," she whispered, and you pulsed around her fingers, whining. Once she was entirely inside, Yara curled her fingers, and your whole body reacted.

Your legs wrapped around her, holding her in place, and your fingers dug into her lower back while you saw stars. You bit down on her arm, at least still attempting to keep quiet, and Yara moaned loudly. When you finally loosened you grip on her arm, she pulled your face back by your hair.

"Does that feel good?" She whispered against your lips, and you panted, pressing kisses between each breath.

"Yes, y-yes," You cried out, and she pressed a knowing kiss to your temple.

"I'm going to move them," she warned, and you nodded, eyes glassed over and lips parted. She kissed your fiercely, then held eye contact as she started pumping her fingers. You groaned loudly, then started moving your hips to meet her hand. As your body adjusted to the foreign feeling, you grew confident.

The sound coming from it was obscene, and you pulled Yara down to sloppily kiss her. Yara pushed harder, and so did you. Soon, you developed a rythym, and you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach. Yara glanced down at her hand, then back up at you, eyes unbelievably filled with even more lust. You followed her gaze and practically melted at the sight.

Thick, hot cream spilled out of you and on to Yara's hand, and gods above, her hand was huge. Her palm practically framed your whole cunt, and the sight made you dizzy.

Yara flicked her thumb over your clit, and you choked, grabbing her neck to hold you up from falling backwards. Your whole spine tingled, and your vision started to blur.

"Y-Yara, I'm," you gasped, but you weren't entirely sure what was going on. "I'm, I think I'm gonna -"

"Cum, sweetheart," Yara groaned. "You're going to cum for me." She pumped her fingers harder, and you sobbed into her arms, feeling your stomach ball up tighter, tighter, tighter, and then burst.

You screamed into her shoulder as your cunt gushed over her hand, and Yara moaned your name into your ear at the feeling. Your hips stuttered, but Yara kept pumping until you were shaking uncontrollably and babbling nonsense. Then, she eased out of you.

She tilted your head up with one hand, then brought the other soiled one between the two of you. You looked up with watery eyes and red cheeks, and watched as Yara licked your cum off of a few of her fingers. Then, she prodded your lips with the remaining two, and you opened your mouth, accepting it gratefully.

You pushed her fingers farther and farther down your throat, chasing that high and letting the bittersweet flavor swirl and cloud your taste and mind. You looked up at Yara through wet lashes, and she swore she could've creamed herself.

"Fucking hell," she groaned, and pulled her fingers out of your mouth, worried you'd probably suffocate yourself on them if she let you work at them any more.

You coughed and gasped, and regained your breath just before she pressed a firm kiss against your mouth. When she pulled away, you stared at her with wide eyes and she panted down at you. You couldn't pull a single word to say off your tongue.

She kissed your temple, then the side of your head, and rested her forehead against yours. "Gods below, are you sure that was your first time?"

You nodded breathlessly, swallowing thickly.

"You fuck like a-"

"- I want to do it again."

Yara pulled back, studying your face. Her face was expressionless, and for a moment during the silence, you were worried you had angered her, or somehow shamed her skill. Then, the corners of her mouth curved into a smirk.

"You want to do it again?" She asked, tilting her head until her lips were almost slotted against yours. You nodded your head.

"Is that okay?" You asked, no shyness left to spare.

Yara laughed loudly and kissed you. She stepped away, running her hands through her hair.

"Yes, fucking absolutely," she assured. She reached down and grabbed your robe. "But not in here, I have other things to show you."

You quickly got dressed. Your body shook, so Yara helped you with it extensively, and kept you steady. You looked up at her quizzically. "Other things like what?"

She grinned wickedly before pulling you up into her arms, one arm under yours and the other under your knees.

"You'll see, princess," she assured.

In her brutish style, Yara kicked open the door to her quarter's. The soldiers remaining on deck went absolutely silent, staring at the two of you with both terrified and amused expressions.

Yara coughed loudly and you buried your face into her shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

"If you gentleman will excuse me, me and the lady are going to retire for the night."

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scentedpepper · 11 days ago

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Indignity

THEON GREJOY X GN! READER

Summary: Your reunion with Theon is violent with sorrow.

Content Warnings: detailed desc. of wounds/scars, detailed desc. of inhumane treatment & effects, deeply traumatized theon, ptsd, ramsay bolton

Other Pairings: Robb Stark x GN! Reader, Robb Stark x Theon Greyjoy, Lady Catelyn & Lord Stark mentioned, Yara mentioned

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Poorly edited, will return later

Some pretty graphic descriptions here so, pace yourself

Angst to comfort to more angst to more comfort?

Theons an emotional wreck, but so are you

_________________________________________

Dying in bed had to be one of the most luxurious ways a man could leave the world. The soft silk comfort against your body, a pillow so warm that your own bed could never hope to offer.

Dying, like you imagined Theon might if you ever let bastard Ramsay Snow capture him again, had to be ways away from anything one could consider luxury. For Theon, it would be in a cold cell of the Dreadfort, manacles keeping his malnourished hands together and biting into his wrists with every fruitless pull the man tried in his delirious, fever ridden thoughts.

Or something akin to that.

Snip.

It sounded harsher than the last and another dirtied curl fell to floor, this particular strand was so full of filth it'd turned as black as the leather boots that rested over the same patch of wood and which would never cease to remind you of the first time you met Theon.

How you'd ended up here. It was something you're sure he would question with time. After all, you were presumed dead.

Snip.

Even harsher, and this time you realized, Theon seemed to be breathing more rapidly than when you first began the process. Whether in nervousness over what could happen, the action itself, or having someone behind him in any circumstance, you were uncertain.

What you were certain of was how harsh the skin along his scalp and neck felt under your touch, calloused fingertips gently pushing him forward or turning his head side to side as you did your work. If Theon were a young child, surely you'd find amusement in trying to smooth his unruly hair flat, much to the protests of his attempts to wiggle away.

But Theon was not a child and this was certainly not a time for amusement.

He smelt worse than the slave quarters you slept in as a kid, a mixture of pungent body odors and the unwashed sheets and pillows that were usually laced about them. You wondered how Ramsay never seemed to notice the scent or how no one had suggested they bathe him before that point.

You supposed that was part of it though.

Snip.

Louder still and you swore even you felt the heat that Theon's flushed skin emanated at this point, cheeks appearing to bulge with the amount of effort it took for him not to let out a yelp of fear.

You noticed his twitching.

It was subtle, only for a moment before he recognized it in himself and was quick to steady his hands against his lap, fingers curling together as if locked in a prayer. You wondered if he even knew he was praying, if he recalled even an ounce of what Lady and Lord Stark had taught him all that time ago when he lived behind the walls that were supposed to feel more like home than anywhere else.

Like you?

Who were you kidding?

Snip.

"Theon, are you well?"

You had to ask because now he was beginning to quiver all over, faint gulps audible in the otherwise silent room. The wetness of his eyes visible when you looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with him as you forced a smile through the worry you felt tugging inside of you.

Gods, you'd almost forgotten the effect even the scissors in your hand could have on the man.

You set them down harsher than intended, and you watched as the man jumped, suppressing something beneath his next breath as his mouth clamped shut, jaw taught enough to make an artist jealous.

"Theon..." You started softly, softer than any other movements you had made. Softer than the way you'd heard his sister yell at him in the night as if any of it were his fault. Softer than anything he had heard in a while.

"Theon. " More solid this time as you moved to kneel in front of him, not an order but an allowance. You wanted to pull him close, grip his wrists and pry his hands apart until he was as physically open as he ought to have been by now, telling you everything with his words instead of his eyes or a nervous shaking.

And yet—still he squirmed.

It was all he could do before you placed your hands on his face, thumbs and index fingers curled under his chin as you tugged it back until you were met eye to eye, his frantic search for an escape, of acceptance, of anything—halted by a lock of focus only you could provide.

"Its alright. " You told the man and you found it was the only thing you could get out before you had to stifle your own woes. The sight of the prince of pyke, always one step ahead in self-proclaimed confidence and suaveness was now the nervous ghost of the boy you'd encountered countless years ago.

Theon seemed to have the opposite problem to you though, unable to break out of your hold, chest pushing forward in erratic breaths.

"It's alright, Theon. I am not going to hurt you. " You insisted, firm against the wavering tremor of his body and hands as he still tried to flee.

You could feel him giving in however, the tears becoming visible as your thumbs continued to work against the delicate skin of his cheeks, the warmth both comforting and worrying in equal parts to you.

"Theon Greyjoy..." You were caught in a loss, holding the Ironborn in your palms like the child you recall he once was, the broken shell of what he should have become as a man. Something now damaged beyond repair that seemed more real than ever before in this moment.

His eyes held a sorrow to them you could not comprehend, not even under the moonlight that shed it's truth. A truth so frightening that Theon, a man with skin much like that of leather, with muscle to match, was seemingly nothing more than a single gust of wind away from crumbling into a pile of bones right here and now.

"Reek. " The name escaped his lips, red and lively they might have seemed years earlier but with starvation and a lack of treatment, had become thin and chapped, a bloody sore present right beneath them on the left side.

"That is not your name. " You immediately demanded, harsher than before as you caught his head again, moving him to tilt upwards, to stare at you with something in his eyes beyond what he presented of himself.

"You are not that man anymore. You do not have to be. "

You moved closer, forehead pressed against his to share in the same breaths that managed to come out like half gasps. You could not help but stare down at the tears streaming off his face, hands wet with those spilled and dried from before.

"You are Theon, son of Balon, son of Pyke, Prince of the Iron Islands. I do not know what he did to you, but by the old gods and the new, he will not do it to you ever again. "

Theon could not look at you in this moment, head nestled slightly to the left. You wondered for a brief moment whether he was recalling memories, running his mind through everything you'd ever been through together. The day Lady Stark took you in as a servant, helping Robb in his training all the days since.

And there you were, here, now, together.

You hoped he was anyway.

Something came to mind then, he'd done so much in terms of his own struggles. Had suffered beyond anything you could imagine at the hands of someone who had looked you in the eye, took your hand in his, shared things of humor with you when the situation called and had tried to claim the loyalty of you even after you had fled his service.

He'd conquered Winterfell in his own way, but with Ramsay? The damage was plain to see, like the cracked shell of an egg that had seen too much heartbreak. The liquid within? To leave or enter with his own consent was near impossible.

Maybe you were thinking too much into it, but as you held him in place, all you could hope is that this would bring him a step closer to reclaiming who he once was.

"Look at me, Theon. "

Gentle once more as the man was prone to lashing out–or rather flinching back in fear. You rubbed soft, prodding circles along his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs, trying to give him something akin to a peaceful smile as you saw his teary eyes open once more.

Gods, he looked so wrecked.

"All my hair..." He breathed, pained, hoarse, looking from where it scattered to the floor to your thighs, or was it your left forearm you noticed him stare at? You weren't sure you'd ever get used to his voice.

"Don't worry, Theon. " You said gently, using his real name as often as you could now. A name was an important thing. This man had enough things stolen from him, least you could offer him the honor of what he was born with. "It'll return. "

You'd never been a barber surgeon. A slave made servant made occasional sword weaver is never offered such luxuries. And yet, that didn't seem to matter to him. Though the sensation may have been overloading, Theon sat there silently.

And you rubbed your hands, albeit gently, against the newly groomed haircut he sported in the back of the room the two of you sat in. Fires lined the walls and flickering shadows danced through the dimly lit candle splay overhead, keeping things subdued.

You did not want to startle him, so you stayed like this until he decided he was ready.

"Do you like it?" You asked softly.

A slight nod, accompanied by a curious sound. You wanted to smile but it was dark and he had always found expression difficult, so you settled with letting him lead for now.

His hand reached up, slower than you were aware someone would dare be, gingerly drawing a palm over his head, stopping to move down the back of his head.

It was... Soft. That was what he told you, more so than the dirty, matted monstrosity you had seen him enter you room with. No pain, no flinching, just a plain acknowledgment that was both foreign and relieving to him.

"I did my best. " You replied softly, still holding him by the shoulder as his hand clutched onto your forearm, the grip a nervous tighten on occasion. You were careful to not to hold him too roughly, Theon was breakable and vulnerable and needed time, something you were there to offer him.

"So you like it?" You pushed gently, tilting his chin up once more, not quite able to hide the relief of seeing him smile as he did so, even if it was weak and struggling, it was a smile. He would thank you in a few moments after the initial shock faded, when he realized that he was already beginning to breathe somewhat normally again.

This was another one of those rare moments that reminded you both just how close the two of you had once been in years long past.

Back when Winterfell was bustling with activity, fires left unattended through the night and little mischief along the inner walls and battlements as you enjoyed youth together.

Well, that was when you and Robb Stark were not off trying to best eachother in daily squabbles, swords gleaming in the glimmer of moonlight as Lady Catelyn would chase the two of you all about the place... When Theon would pull his own tricks, which were always followed through with childish roars of laughter.

Those had always felt like good times and the world had seemed bigger.

And now, none of your childhood remained, just Theon and the husk of your once overconfident and arrogant friend.

"Thank you. "

You froze, mind whirling into a gear. Blinking yourself back into the present time, you realized he was tugging at your sleeve, eyes wide. For a moment, it looked as if you had plunged your hand into his chest, clutching at his beating heart.

How cruel of him to say.

To thank.

He'd expressed this same gratitude to you a handful of times now, and each time did as much damage to you as his broken body, lost hair and the various wounds that were inflicted into him.

"Do not thank me. " You said it each time in the same breath you found the air to survive in.

Though you could tell it sounded like nothing but a gentle scold to the fragile boy in front of you, the words were anything but. You found yourself angry, tears forming at the corners of your eyes and heat swelling your chest.

You brushed your hand through his hair to hide the quiver in your breath as it hitched, other set of fingers tugging him close in a momentary display of how it ought to feel. Theon ought to have family and loved ones around him right now, supporting him, but you knew he'd thrown it all away for a conquest that had landed him here. And you swore that if he had come to you in any other form, you would have punched him straight in the face for his loss.

"Thank you, " Theon uttered weakly, shakily. "For letting me stay here with you. For, for treating me the way you do..."

Stop.

You stilled in your actions, unable to continue without the risk of sobbing, choking him until he turned purple by gripping his collar too tightly, pressing him too hard against the warmth of your chest or slamming his face down into the floor in a less kind style.

Instead, you simply leaned in until your arms tightened around his shoulders, enveloping his entire body into your own.

"You do not have thank me. None of this is your fault. "

But as you took the time to calm your own nerves, all you could do was listen.

There was a moment of silence then, when he stopped breathing, when he no longer resisted and relaxed somewhat.

It had almost sounded like it was the first time in his life he'd felt... comfort. That perhaps the tenderness was the very opposite of pain and even as you brushed the longer strands of his hair that you hadnt quite got to yet, unclean of all the grime and filth throughout the days, you wondered how he had not melted against you then.

The man heaved.

This time, you could hear the sobs before he jerked against you, limbs pushing into your shirt and soaking the hem in salty tears, trembling hands trying their best to cling to you like a child might it's mother.

It made you want to heave yourself, sob until you could no longer breathe.

You brushed your thumb against his cheeks with intent, catching tears and smearing the dirty tracks they'd made, wanting the image of his face scrubbed from your mind until you saw only the beautiful man you'd left him as.

"It's okay, " you urged, lips pressing into the soft flesh of his temple, sliding down his face to follow the path made by tears.

"It's okay, you're alright. You're safe. It's alright. "

And Theon breathed out, like his lungs were collapsing, deflating until he was resting his full weight on you.

Theon had always been smaller than you but right now he was so unbelievably fragile it was enough to make you want to wrap him in bandages and carry him away in a blanket or something if it meant stopping anyone else from ever seeing him break.

"We are going to get through this. " You found the strength within you to vow then, never being as sure of a statement that had felt too weak when it was not accompanied by the deep throaty yells in a familiar voice.

You wondered if he even knew what he did to you in that moment.

"I will never let anyone harm you again. " You swore. "You have my word, I am here for you. Until the end of time. "

He nodded into your shoulder then, as if finally hearing the meaning of the words. Burying himself in as close as he could, it was then you realized you felt a firm hand clutching at the small of your back, almost tugging you towards him.

So it was your turn to hug him now, you thought lightly in contrast.

You had more to say, so many words and yet you were unsure of how he'd interpret them. Sometimes telling him he wasn't some filthy pet was easier than doing what was now your own desperate cling onto him.

Maybe it was because he looked like that with his tattered clothes, flimsy and so very breakable.

Maybe it was because in those instances you couldn't understand why in the seven hells anyone would be cruel enough to him in the first place.

Or maybe, your heart clenched then, Theon looked at you like you held his entire fucking universe in the palm of your hand.

You swallowed tightly as he let his head rest there, breaths having returned to normal, his shoulders moving with them as the two of you sat here and he settled again, the warmth of your neck radiating to his head.

"Lets get you cleaned up so you can sleep well tonight. "

You know it must've been a foreign sentence, and the way Theon looked at you, you were sure that fact was true. You watched as he parted from you again after a long few moments, and even he found himself shivering when he did so.

He nodded then, blinking a few times before gazing away, looking at the walls.

"Okay. "

You hesitated.

Theon trembled in his seat, struggling to sit still at you maneuvered his dirty clothing aside, the scissors clasped tight in your fingers as you started to snip away at what remnants of his hair still lingered.

You could feel him twitch and squirm underneath your gentle hold, even as you promised him you would not be doing the same as before, which had consisted of a lot more loudness.

"Relax..." You told him, waiting patiently for him to still in your hold again, but the thing with relaxation is that it takes time. His breath was picking up again as you removed the last layer, to reveal the various scars, of all different shapes and sizes along his body, back, stomach, as far as the eye could see.

Some more red than others, his shoulder displaying more pink scars as compared to the more prominent discolouration of one you didn't recognize before on his ankle. The more you stared the longer it seemed until you let out a hard breath, not realizing you were leaning rather close to the skin.

"Sorry. "

All you said and his eyes moved to meet yours again, finding an unusual trust in you, staring with the depths of his eyes, as deep as the sea.

"Can you remove your trousers? I'm off to fetch you new clothes but I shall return shortly. "

Theon froze at the request, nervous again and shifting to an uncomfortable air. That look of nervous anxiety returned.

"Does, does the bath.." He mumbled, trailing off immediately.

If he weren't such a frightened mess right now, you're sure Theon would've looked so, so stupid with the way he floundered. As was your resistance, the urge to tell him that there was absolutely nothing for him to fear and the least of that is a bath, lest he faint.

The gods willing you did not want to keep forcing him on though.

And he could not even blame you this time either, the stench coming off him was appalling.

Yet, he shifted, continously hesitant, wincing ever so often as if he'd been grabbed suddenly in some way and his entire back knotted in pain, tension holding him as he started to tense, fists balling into his knees in determination to say something.

"Theon.." You couldn't find the words to speak, as silent and as stuck as Theon as your eyebrows dipped in the middle and furrowed together at the top.

You had been told you had quite the expressive eyes, and you couldn't say you didn't believe it. What else would explain the small sound he let out as you blinked away your grief?

You did not want to believe the rumors had been correct.

Again, he shook and tensed.

He winced, shaking his head as his lips parted in pain. It was too soon.

"I can't. "

That was all the confirmation you had needed.

"It's okay. We will save it for another day. Remain in your small clothes for now, if it better suits you. "

The relief he breathed resigstered a tiny sound in his chest as he stared at you standing near the frame of the door, peering over with an unimaginable tenderness as you offered the familiarity of sight between the two of you. His bare chest was facing towards you, head turned halfway, giving you sidelong glimpse of his face before hiding himself all over again.

You couldn't hold back the frown this time, finding it to be far worse than you had been able to imagine on your own.

His shoulders were rounded downward, arms tucked in close by his sides, hands turned inwards to cross over his stomach like he had to keep himself from you and your worryingly intense gaze, trying to keep from shaking at the mere thought of letting anyone lay hands on him or touch him in even the smallest quantity.

You wondered if that was perhaps too oversimplified, how he'd reacted in times past with Ramsay and how helpless he probably felt on a daily occurrence.

"I'll fetch you some dry garments. "

And though Theon did not say anything in return, you know for certain he understood your tone as the creaking wooden door latched closed, the momentary relief washing through the man instantaneous. As if a brick had left his shoulders and the flood of pain exited with the crash back into reality.

You were already pulling out different clothing sets then. Ones of which could last him a number of days without seeming any need for unnecessary changing.

When you returned he had already situated himself in the warm, soothing waters of the bath, lying against the side of it with a deep seated exhaustion that was sure to hinder him in some way or another the next morning.

Pushing your way through the heat of the room, you placed the neatly folded clothing down onto the ledge by the edge and moved over, resting your arms near his own, both of which were folded and shielding part of his naked face.

He startled then, having not quite noticed your presence beside him, so you brushed aside strands of hair, humming softly.

"Your towel is here, too. " You told him, voice quiet.

He gave a meek little nod, still looking rather like a mangy pup.

You gave him a rub on the shoulder as you begin to move away from him again, feeling the thick bumps of scars brushing under your gentle touch, an ache so deep running through you that it had seemed to freeze your breath solid in your throat. But by then, he'd already squeezed his eyes shut, forehead scrunching for a second as he took his time breathing, mouth still locked from the tense expression.

Every one of your senses felt strung tightly, fingers squeezing at the air between you and that still too-tense body in front of you.

Your fingers hesitated to delatch from him, but you eventually brought yourself to.

"Very well then, I'll be back with... with food in a little bit. "

Theon let out a little noise this time, one which you doubt was meant to make the sound it made. And when he felt your hands move away from him once again he lunged out, eyes and mouth agape with a pitiful cry.

"Wait!" He sounded angry, desperate as his fingers tightened. "Don't leave me alone again. I-I need a moment. "

With the hold he had on your clothes he almost jerked you into the tub. Except, as much weight as he might have once possessed, none remained there now.

You gaped at him for a moment, at a loss for words.

Was the day to reveal just how guilty he made you feel here after all, you wondered silently.

For there was no denying what you had become to him or he to you, especially here and now.

"Do not fret. " You said gently, kneeling until both your knees were on the ground and Theon now had the opportunity to look down at you.

Even those eyes were wide and afraid, shimmering with uncertainty.

"I will stay here as long as you'd like. "

He shivered for a moment, though neither of you really knew if it had been at your words or not, his muscles tensing before he finally released his grasp on you, body relaxing the slightest it could.

When your hand reached for the untouched sponge, his eyes darted over at the momentary loss of touch, to ensure you were still there, and his hand lingered before returning to the heat of the water, fingertips drawing whirls within the ripples.

You swallowed, glancing over to see if he would give any objection, the cloth already full of suds from the soap you'd dumped into the water earlier. And as you look at the scarred skin around his neck and head, the broken veins of blood beneath, you shivered.

"Will this be okay?" Your breath wafted against his neck and the water from the sponge dripped down your fingers and ran to your elbow, the warmth of it almost stinging before you became adjusted to its touch.

He opened his eyes then, not even aware they were closed, and hummed.

"Yes. Please. "

Hearing the approval, you placed the sponge on his shoulder, dripping little white bubbles and beads of soap down his skin as you took note of his visible tensing again, legs still crossed at the knees as the water sloshed.

Only after you started scrubbing did he let himself loosen, breathing so steadily you almost found yourself doing the same in unison. But at that time, you were too focused on him. Giving his face the occasional glance to make sure he was okay.

On instinct, he drew his shoulders back, clenching his teeth in anticipation for your touch on his arms before releasing. His eyes are lowered, half-closed, and it was difficult to tell if he was nodding off.

"Theon, tell me if you find discomfort in this. It's important. "

He nodded briefly and hummed again.

"Okay. "

You moved from his arm back to his shoulder, moving upwards to the tenderness of his neck where his face turns his head away from you, and you brush the hairs aside to continue, trying your best to give him some relief as you washed behind his ears, in every crevice that he would allow.

You had to change the water twice before you could began at his hair.

By the time you reach the base of his neck for the second time, he has his eyes nearly shut, hair drenched as your fingers rub soothingly across his scalp with soap, massaging tenderly and applying just the right pressure, you want to see for yourself that you can in fact turn the corners of his lips upwards and leave them there.

"There. "

His skin was clean of any dried grease, blood, sweat, tears, any proof that he had spent a time too long so untrusted and ironically dependent that his own body felt alien to him. And the soap you'd used had worked to his own scent and filled the room with a unique aroma so that even your own lips drew upwards as you sat there with him.

His hair looked beautiful, almost reminiscent of who he once had been and would be someday again. Your chest tightened with love and adoration so passionate it kept the room tinted ever so faintly.

His head snapped up, finally back to consciousness now, although whether he had been falling asleep in the beginning, he did not quite remember.

You're not sure which were wetter anymore, his eyes or the towel used to dry him off.

He inhaled deeply as you stepped back, now in the shirt you had brought him, his voice coming from deep within him as he spoke his thanks to you.

Sputtering slightly, he was immediately all too eager to tell you everything that was on his mind, most of which you found no difficulty in attempting to listen to.

"Ah, gods...I, It feels so..."

And as his expression grew distant he lost himself in thought, likely already soaking in the hot waters yet again as if he couldn't believe he had the privilege of ever doing something like that in the first place.

Your eyes gleamed, so glad to see the spark of life in his once more.

When you led him to his bedroom his eyes were faraway as he stared between the ground and the matress before falling into the sheets with a gasp. The realization that this was finally happening and he could finally sleep returned to him suddenly and all at once.

Albeit a bit sooner than you had anticipated, one could not forget to indulge him as was meant before bedtime, though if anything it only seemed to keep him excited longer.

"What would you like me to get for you?"

His eyes snapped over to yours, so dark despite their color, begging you to close the space between the two of you on the bed and as he gazed at you sitting on the end, he swore his breath had left his lungs all over again.

"Are you hungry?"

You prompted again when it became obvious he had no real intentions of answering. It seemed to break whatever trance the man had been under because his tongue left the roof of his mouth as he swallowed and gave another little nod.

"I shall fetch you some leftovers then. "

Before you could stand, he grabbed your wrist, fingers holding with a gentleness he hadn't held in years and nor did you want to let go of, his grip merely tugging you in place.

As your heart jolted in your chest, so did his—fearful, hopeful. Both too scared to act.

So you hesitantly put your own hand atop his, drawing forth your other and pushing gently.

"I shall retun shortly. "

Another nod of reassurance followed and if that was enough to silence him for the moment, you did not mind.

In the kitchen you found some fruit had been left on the counter by Yara so you plucked it and begin to heat a simple meal atop the small fireplace, allowing it to simmer as you left to find some other assortment of delicious meats and grains to provide your prince with, or even a serving of oatmeal if not, so that his meal could be as filling as it possibly could.

When you return though, tray in hand as you stepped lightly up the stairs, you find that Theon has fallen to sleep. In his arms he holds tightly onto a nearby pillow, fingers digging and wrapped into the fabric with the bedding ruffled a little bit, a pang of fondness rushing through you at the sight of it.

It all seemed so absurd, even in the beginning of your days a servant.

You placed the tray atop the dresser, approaching his side once again, finding he had hardly shifted or moved the entire time you'd gone, though you weren't exactly expecting him to.

Your fingers, you remember, must have been icy cold as you reach a hand to brush against him, pushing his hair aside.

Theon awakens at the slight movement, still so nervous, and now with a certain drowsiness coating him, you pressed your lips together as his face scrunched and the corners of his eyes seemed to twitch with an anxious tension.

"Apologies. " You pulled your hand away at once. "I did not mean to disturb you. "

He shook his head, seemingly wanting to raise his hand before remembering where he was.

"No. I don't mind. " He croaked out, voice hoarse and raw with all his unanswered yearnings.

You looked at him curiously.

"Are you weary? I have dinner prepared for you. "

He smiled, something soft in his expression, breath catching in his throat as his head sunk back into the pillow, not quite comprehending why in the seven hell's his chest had started to burn.

You quickly filled the space.

"Would you like it now?"

He shook his head at you, feeling his face heat and flush slightly as you pushed his hair to the side again, thumb brushing his skin, still so soft and undeniably kind, the touch alone triggering some previously unknown memory to emerge inside of him.

"Later then. " You reaffirmed, giving his hair a little pat as the bed creaked beneath your shifting body, the matress now taking to the weight of you after having sat empty for so long. It wasn't exactly comfortable and not that large and not made for a pair of two, much less for a Queen or King of which had their own personal servants and attendants, but for Theon, you had made do.

He seemed to sense it too, tense a bit, though when you glanced over at him, his mouth was nearly agape as he stared at you, eyes shimmering.

His eyebrows did that strange sort of dip, eyes drawing smaller as his face morphed into something of uneasiness, lips parted but mouth shut completely as he inhaled a gentle breath and blew air outwards.

You blinked just as gently at him and it took only that for him to reach to you again, fingers trembling on your wrist.

He tried to swallow then, lips parting, before closing, a question already at the edge of his lips though he'd never ask, for it seemed the world was too cruel, even with his Lord Sister and closest companion so near him and within grasp of his own self.

With a slow motion, you turned your body closer, reaching to clasp his shaking wrist. The blankets were warm and still smelled faintly of fresh rainwater, having been cleanened prior to the Prince's arrival. And as the wind continued to howl against the shutters, you thought it was better to take extra blankets.

"Theon, what do you need?"

"Will- I just want to-" He trailed off abruptly, not knowing the words to use or what to even say at the very beginning.

And though you tried your best to hide it, the pity of your expression was never lost from view. And that sight set him off into a silent sob as his eyes watered in disgust and he turned his face into the sheets and had to be torn away from the dampened material or risk fusing to it altogether, face stained and hidden as you tried to push his hands away from him.

His whimpers grow more frequent and you frown, pulling him closer to rest on your chest, or well, the best he could. You could feel his entire body going through tremors as he breathes and nuzzled his face against you.

"Theon, please. Tell me how I can assist you. "

It takes a moment, with his fists squeezing hard and nose all wrinkled up before the dam finally bursts entirely open and floods his eyes with tears, mouth open as he gasps for air.

He was hiccuping before you could begin to address what it was that had upset him so much and just as you wrapped him in your arms, he seemed to shatter entirely, the turmoil evident. A wail clawed its way through his chest, overshadowing any sound that he had made before, until he finally started blubbering a string of unintelligible nonsense through those sobs.

"Shh, shh. I'm here. " Your fingers were almost immediately threading through the wet tangles of his scalp, allowing him to take his time to sob and cry and all that in between. "I've got you."

You repeated the soft shushing continously, soothingly along his ear, making slow strokes down his spine. The tears had begun to dampen your shirt and as best you could, you drew his quivering form tightly to you.

You held him like this until he quieted, at which point his eyes had already grown red and puffy, and you wondered absently if it was even worth trying to get him to eat now, as he still leaned over your shoulders so painfully, his breathing almost as broken as his mind, so afraid as he hiccuped in place of a lively heart beat.

You held him like this until his chest gained a rhythm no longer akin to a child frightened of shadows outside their bed, and whenever you met his gaze, as if only for a few precious second, the brokenness his eyes bore was enough to pull tears from you when he looked away, laying his head to rest.

You held him like this until his body temperature dropped and the quietest of snores elicited from his scarred face, and even as the stars and moon moved and the sun replaced them once more did you hold him there in your embrace.

You held him like this until you too fell to sleep, breaths mingling in comfort and a scent so soft and lulling with its beauty and simplicity.

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tyrionsource · 1 year ago

Photo

Thank you so much for Tyrion’s Seasons of Love, Part 3: Winter!

There is a masterlist of all the fanworks created for the event under the cut. Late submissions will be added to the list as they are posted and information about the last part of our celebration (Spring!) will be announced very soon. Thank you again to everyone who participated or supported!

EDITS/GRAPHICS

Daenerys/Tyrion Jane Eyre AU by @blogforasoiafevents

FICS

By the fireplace by actuallysango (Tyrion/Daenerys. You will have to be signed in to view)

with moonglow in his hair and a laugh upon his lips (Tyrion/Theon) by @selkiewife

Winter Dragon Dreams of Spring by @selkiewife

Three Hearts by @selkiewife

GIFSETS

storm and war and childhood’s end (Tyrion/Yara) by @ironbornsource

Tyrion/Sansa Aging Together by @tyrionsource

Tyrion/Daenerys “Madly” by @selkiewife

Tyrion/Tysha “Annabel Lee” by @selkiewife

Dany Introduces Tyrion to Viserion by @selkiewife

#tyrionseasons #winter masterlist #tyrion lannister #tyrionlannisteredit #gotedit #daenerys targaryen #danrion #sanrion #tyrsha #thyrion #tyrion x dany #tyrion x sansa #tyrion x theon #tyrion x tysha #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #tyrion x yara #tyrion x asha #tyrionseasons winter masterlist

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2braincellslz · 2 years ago

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samieree · 9 months ago

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Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XXXIII ''Dārilaros''

Chapter XXXIV ''A meeting''

The time has finally come to the meeting with her allies and present a plan of action. Everyone gathered in the room with the map, sitting on chairs at the table. Only Grey Worm and ser Arthur stood, close to the wall.

"You want the Iron Throne, so just take it." Yara spoke up. "We have an army, a fleet and dragons, if we attack King's Landing with everything we have, the city will fall the same day."

"And how many innocent people will die, especially if the dragons are set free?" Tyrion remarked.

"This is war. If you don't have the nerve for it, don't play it." Ellaria interjected.

"We're supposed to discuss the plan, not argue and insult each other." Visenya said, interrupting everyone. "Just because we declare war doesn't mean that thousands of ordinary people have to die, I won't allow that. And I don't intend to rule the kingdom of ashes."

"That's good." this time Olenna spoke up. "I don't remember a Queen who was more beloved than my granddaughter. She was loved by both commoners and the powerful. And what is left of her? Ashes. The common and the powerful are like children, really. They won't obey you unless they fear you."

This is their first meeting, and almost nothing has gone her way this far. It was easier when she dealt with the Lords in Essos, they were evil men, she had no problem intimidating them into doing what she wanted. Here the situation was more complicated, she had to unite people who had to support her in order to stay on the throne.

She felt she couldn't show weakness because if she did, it would be the end of her. They will tear her to pieces and there will be nothing left of her.

"They have to fear the consequences of their actions, not me." she replied calmly. "Also, almost half the fleet has sailed back to Meereen, so we're not at full strength yet." she noticed.

"You're going to wait..." Olenna paused for a moment, counting in her head how long it would be before the ships return. "Almost half a year? Until winter comes?"

"We have enough men to lay siege to the city if you don't want to attack directly." Yara came back to her idea of attacking King's Landing right away, it was in her mind the fastest way to take the Iron Throne.

Vis sighed in her mind and leaned further into her chair. She turned her gaze to Tyrion and nodded. Enough of this verbal bickering, they will tell them their plan for now and then they will argue if necessary.

"It would be a great idea, if not for a few "buts"..."he started and got up from his chair to illustrate their plan, pointing to specific places on the map and moving the figures. "King's Landing is surrounded mostly by forests, which is a problem in itself, and we don't know where the Iron Fleet or Lannister forces are right now, other than the garrison in the city. We also cannot forget about some of the Lords whom Cersei converted to her side by talking about foreign armies brought to Westeros and referring to their memories of the Mad King."

This time, no one commented on a single word Tyrion said. Everyone was waiting for the rest of his statement, which filled Visenya with hope that they would all be able to come to an agreement. She didn't have much input into the current plan, she just pointed out a few things. She would like to be able to say something more, to know what needs to be considered when planning the next steps, battles, sieges, and movement of troops.

Mostly she stayed silent and listened to her friends, learning from what they said, but she didn't have the courage to admit to them that she didn't know something. She was the Queen after all, she was supposed to lead them. This fear remained in her, that if she showed weakness, her potential allies would abandon her.

"Cersei will not attack first, she will wait for our move as long as she can. If she was going to attack any place, it would be Highgarden." he moved the lion figurine to the Tyrell residence. "Food supplies and gold that she will desperately need. Therefore, the Reach troops will remain in the Reach. We will transport the supplies we need at this moment on ships that will also take soldiers from Dorne. Before that, we will provoke the Iron Fleet by sending a small force to Casterly Rock, to secure the transport as best as possible." he paused for a moment. The rest of the plan was much more general. "Then we'll take care of the army in the country, outside King's Landind, so that they won't be able to break the siege. By then we should be able to challenge the Iron Fleet as they attempt to deliver supplies to King's Landing."

"That is my plan." she finally got up from her seat, leaning on the table with her hands. "Do I have your support?"

She felt her heart speed up and her lips suddenly become mercilessly dry. This is the first important moment in the fast-approaching war. Either they support her or she will be left alone on the battlefield.

"You have mine." Yara spoke first, decisively, without any hesitation in her voice.

"Dorne is with you, Your Grace." Elaria spoke up right after her.

The tension was already starting to leave her shoulders, but there was one more person who had to accept this plan and she turned her gaze to her. Olenna Tyrell. She finally nodded too.

"Thank you for your trust, I won't let you down." she smiled at everyone.

"Can we talk privately for a moment, Your Grace?" Lady Tyrell's question surprised her, but she nodded and everyone else began to leave the chamber. When they were alone, she went to sit on the chair next to her.

"I think I know what you want to say... You want revenge on Cersei. I know that's why you all support my claim to the throne." she said, taking a seat. That was the only reason she could think of for this conversation and she could assure her that justice will be served. "I swear that those who hurt us will pay for it a hundredfold. And then there will finally be peace in Westeros.

"Peace?" she didn't answer whether that was what she wanted to talk about, but she obviously picked up on the topic and had her own opinion. She had heard of the Queen of Thorns before her escape and knew she was an intelligent woman. That's why she wanted to listen to everything he had to say and draw some lesson from it. "Do you think there was peace when your grandfather sat on the Iron Throne? Or his father? Or that it would be if your father ruled? There is never peace, my dear. People will always find a reason to fight."

She wanted to deny it, to say that it was possible to keep the peace and she would do it, but then she realized that she couldn't argue, that Olenna was right. People fight when they are dissatisfied, and you can't please everyone. Someone will want more and more wealth, others will want higher and higher titles. She had already experienced in Meereen that it was impossible to create a place without violence, but she wanted to continue living this utopian dream.

"I wanted to give you a piece of advice." she finally said what she had wanted from the beginning. "Will you take it from an old woman?"

"I will never despise advice that someone wants to give me for free." she smiled warmly and shifted in her chair, crossing her legs.

"Your Hand is a clever man. I've known many people like him in my life and I've outlived them all. Do you know why? I ignored them." this surprised Visenya, she didn't expect this type of advice. "Lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep?"

Her smile faded. For a moment she wanted to look down, because it was hard for her to stand Olenna's gaze, but she didn't, she forced herself to manage it. Is she a gentle, naive sheep? Often yes... But she wouldn't call the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms that, but maybe she just didn't know them as well as Olenna.

"No. You are the dragon." a delicate smile appeared on her face again as soon as she heard these words. "Be a dragon."

"I will be."

* * *

The boat reached the shores of Dragonstone, in almost the same place where, about a month earlier, Visenya Targaryen had taken her first step in Westeros in four years. Tyrion, Missandei and a small force of Dothraki stood on the shore in case any trouble occurred.

Robb Stark and Ser Davos Seaworth came ashore, accompanied by some of their men.

"Someone escaped death from under the scythe." Tyrion spoke first, using his 'unfailing humor'.

"Someone has done it more times than me." Robb replied.

The last time they saw each other was when Tyrion returned from the Wall and went to Winterfell to hand over the design of a saddle for Bran so he could ride. Their relationship was not very good, mainly due to the suspicion that Tyrion ordered Bran's murder. And now he is here on Dragonstone, wearing the pin of the Hand of the Queen.

How far can his talk take him?

Tyrion preferred not to speak to Ser Davos due to the fact that when they were fighting against each other, when Stannis was attacking the capital, Davos's son was killed because of his plan. Yes... It's better not to bring up these memories.

"Welcome to Dragonstone." Missandei greeted everyone before Tyrion could say anything else. "The Queen knows it's a long journey and she appreciates the efforts you've made to get here. If you don't mind handing over your weapons.

It wasn't a question of whether they minded or not, they had no other choice. Of course they won't let them enter the castle with weapons. Robb tried to be optimistic, after all, things weren't looking bad so far, they were still alive.

When everyone gave up their weapons, things got a little worse, because some of the Dothraki went to get the boat that they used to reach the shore from the ship, picked it up and started walking away with it. So we are prisoners here?

"Please, this way." she smiled and gestured with her head for them to follow her. They had to walk most of the beach and up all the stairs before they entered the castle.

As they followed her, Davos went over to ask her where she was from, while Robb remained silent and focused on her unusual outfit. It was rather typical for women to wear dresses, especially those of high birth. However, Missandei did not have a dress, only a cloak which shape imitated the cut of the dress. Additionally, two belts crossed on her chest, holding some kind of shoulder straps, one of them had a silver brooch, circle with three dragon heads attached to it. And, of course, trousers and high boots. I wonder if their queen wears the same kind of clothes... She was probably the one who started this 'trend'.

"This place has changed." ser Davos said to him after he had exchanged a few words with Missandei and they continued walking along the beach towards the castle.

"Inside probably even more so, you won't see the same sigils anymore." he replied.

"I hope I don't have to visit the prison again."

He rolled his eyes at this answer and said nothing more. They would have no reason to keep them prisoners, they would rather kill them. But they are still alive, that's the most important thing. Perhaps they will even be able to leave this island on their own.

The building itself made a great impression, mainly due to the figures of dragons crowning the towers or above the gate and at the entrances. A stronghold for the Dragon Queen indeed. Although climbing all those stairs when you spent the last many days on the ship and didn't have much opportunity to walk... A bit of a challenge.

"How's Sansa? I heard she's alive and well." Tyrion asked him when they were almost halfway up.

"She's fine." he replied rather dryly. He still had a bad taste for the Lannisters, even though - apparently - Tyrion was now fighting against his family.

"Does she miss me a lot?" yes... He had already forgotten that they married his little sister to Tyrion... He gave him a look that was enough of an answer. "A marriage of convenience, and unconsummated." You would try to do it differently... "Anyway... She's smarter than she lets on."

"Oh, she's changed..." he sighed. He regretted that he had not been able to protect her from all the horrors that had befallen her, but the most important thing was that she had survived. She changed... Like all of them, they grew up faster than they should have.

"Someday I want to hear how you survived my father's trap and then took Winterfell back from the Boltons with your siblings." Tyrion wanted to add, 'You Starks are hard to kill', but he thought that would be an exaggeration, even for him.

At first, Robb felt a huge need to punch him for reminding him of those very painful moments. The only thing that stopped him was that he needed the Queen's help and he couldn't start a conflict between them.

"When you tell me how it happened that the Lannister went from being a torturer to becoming the Hand of Visenya Targaryen?"

"I have never been a torturer." Tyrion defended himself. He had never done anything bad to this girl, and now he actually admired her for what she was able to achieve. He may like to tease, but he won't let himself be called that. "And my path to this 'top' was long and quite bloody. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it." there was silence for a moment as they climbed the stairs. "Tell me, why exactly did you accept the invitation? If I were advising you, I would strongly advise you not to come here."

"Apparently I don't learn from my mistakes. Or maybe-" He stopped abruptly when he heard an inhuman screech just behind them.

Both he and Davos fell to the ground, as a pitch-black dragon flew just above their heads. More flew right behind him, green, golden and white, shimmering blue in the sun. The four of them had been circling the island and now they were racing around the castle.

Only the two of them fell to the ground, the others seemed to be used to this sight and inhuman sounds that quickly chilled their blood. Tyrion walked over and offered his hand to help him up.

"I'd say you'd get used to them, but you never really do." he declared, smiling slightly under his breath. "Come, their mother is waiting for you."

Inside, Visenya was not yet sitting on the throne, but she was impatiently pacing the room and waiting. As Tyrion and Missandei went to greet her guest, only Ser Arthur and a pair of Unsullied were left with her to stand guard.

She kept thinking about how she should start the conversation and what she should say to get what she wanted. He agreed to come, so that was already half of a win, but now she had to convince him. With Dorne and the Reach it was easier, Varys took care of the most important conversations - even though she didn't ask him to... - and there was a different mentality in these parts of the country. They did not lose much strength in the war, they were burning for revenge, while the North suffered a lot and probably wanted peace above all.

She doesn't want soldiers from them, she just wants the Starks to also support her claim to the throne and acknowledge her authority, that's all. But if you consider what the Mad King did to Brandon and Rickard Stark, what her father did to Lyanna Stark... But she is not them, she will not allow herself to be judged by the crimes of her ancestors.

"What do you think he's like?" she asked suddenly, finally moving away from the window. "Brave or stupid to accept my invitation?" she slowly walked up the stairs and finally sat down.

"People have heard of your achievements in Essos."

"And they also heard the rumors spread by Cersei. Apparently in some village they say I have a tail and horns."

"Quite a funny vision, who knows, maybe they would add to your charm?" she rolled her eyes. She knew that he was teasing her, trying to calm her down, so he must have noticed that she was stressed.

She would have said something back, but at that moment the door to the chamber began to open, so she straightened up in her seat and stared straight ahead. She should be used to it by now, but something made her unable not to get stressed. She kept her hands clasped in her lap and concentrated on not playing with them, not showing any nervousness.

"You stand in the presence of Visenya of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of Yunkai, Queen of Astapor, Queen of Meereen, the Unburnt, Breaker of the Chains." she was introduced with all her titles by Missandei, who was taking her place by the stairs to her left, Tyrion standing to her right.

Robb's first thought was that he had never heard of a person holding so many titles. Has anyone really ever called her all those titles? What does 'the Unburnt' even mean? Either she has actually achieved so much in the last four years, or she has a very large ego, or both.

"This is Robb Stark, King in the North." Ser Davos said, his voice echoing through the hall.

She didn't even listen to him much, she stared at the boy who immediately seemed familiar to her.

She had seen him before, seen those curls, even from this distance she could also tell that she had seen those blue eyes before. She dreamed of and danced with him. So maybe it belongs to him...

She realized that she had been silent for too long, that she should say something.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, Your Grace." she emphasized these two words. "I hope the journey wasn't too hard." she decided to exchange pleasantries, as she first had to put thoughts of him aside before she could move on to politics.

"The winds were quite kind to us, thank you." he replied, having to focus on the here and now.

Of course, it didn't escape his notice that they had met before. She was the woman who had not left his thoughts for several days since the dream, she was the one who mounted the dragon and flew on its back. That silver hair and purple eyes are unmistakable, of course, a Targaryen.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not like my enemies, I don't invite people under my roof and then kill them." she assured, even though nothing in his behavior indicated that he was afraid of her.

"A woman with an army, a fleet, and four dragons telling you not to be afraid of her is unheard of." she smiled slightly under her breath, even though he said it with noticeable irony in his voice, or maybe as a joke? She couldn't tell. "And you call yourself the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I call myself the King of one of those kingdoms, doesn't that make us enemies, Your Grace?"

"Do you want to be my enemy?" she couldn't help but ask this question, even though she didn't expect any answer, so she quickly continued. "I don't want wars, violence should be the last resort, that's why I invited you here. We have a common enemy: Cersei Lannister. I propose that we become allies."

"On what basis?"

"The one you're thinking about. Support my claim to the crown, acknowledge my authority, and I will give us all our desired revenge."

Of course that's what she wants, that's why she invited him, just like he thought from the beginning... Perhaps if what was said about her - or rather what rumors Cersei was spreading - were at least partially true, he would not think long, just kneel and swear allegiance. But she didn't look like a monster, she didn't act like one. In fact, after what she really did, common people would say that she is an angel in human body.

It could have been just a cover, but it made him decide to fight for the independence of his kingdom.

"I can support your claim, but not to my kingdom." he said firmly. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but we don't know each other. We know as much about ourselves as we have been told. You are invoking a right that you don't actually have because your dynasty was overthrown. All you can do is win throne back and then I will recognize your rights." he paused for a moment, watching her reaction. She didn't look angry. "Do you really want to rule lands you don't know? I've heard many good and bad things about you, I don't know what to believe, you can't expect to come back after four years and everyone submitting to you."

She didn't expect it, but she also didn't think of her rights as something she didn't actually have. Who else would have a better claim to the throne? There is no one else left to inherit from Robert, kingdoms could not remain under the rule of the usurper Cersei. It's not just that this woman doesn't deserve the crown, but also that she doesn't know how to rule, doesn't care about the people under her, and only wants power and a good life. This is not what a ruler should want.

She didn't lose hope, on the contrary - she believed that she was able to convince him. For some reason, fate had allowed them to 'mee'" before under quite nice circumstances, certainly not to become enemies later.

"I don't want to just rule, I want to change." she replied more dispassionately than she wanted. She decided that she had to somehow shorten the distance between them, let him to known her, if they were to get along. At the same time, she would also like to get to know him better... She got up from her throne and began to slowly approach. "You've probably also heard a lot about the little girl that Tywin kept as his trophy, a memory of times gone by - that's a nice phrase I heard once. It would seem that many people should feel sorry for me: An orphan, my father died before I was born, and my mother was raped and killed by the Mountain shortly after, right after he killed my siblings." she paused for a moment to make her next words sound stronger. "Nobody was sorry. No one delivered justice. Robert actually demanded my head, the head of a several-day-old baby. He tried to kill me a few times, of course he did, he hated my father so much, he was so afraid that his blood would survive and become a threat to him one day."

She had to stop for a moment to don't let tears - that were coming to her eyes as the memories of her childhood flooded her - fall.

Robb didn't dare interrupt her. He knew her story as much as it was talked about. The maester once taught him about the last members of this house, Visenya, and Viserys and Daenerys, who managed to escape to Essos right after the war. Since Visenya was here alone, he guessed that the other two had not survived until now.

He never paid much attention to her history, he was a child, he preferred to duel with Theon, first with wooden and then with blunt swords, than to learn history. But now, hearing it straight from her... He sympathized. He could easily say that, he felt sorry for her. While he had fun running around Winterfell, when he could come to his parents at any time - even at night when he had a nightmare - and he had no worries, she never had that luxury. She was forever alone, with the specter of death hanging over her head. She lived under the roof of someone like Tywin Lannister, who - as he knew from experience - was ready to do anything to win.

If she wanted to make me feel sorry for her, she's already succeeded.

"I survived. I've lived seventeen years of something I wouldn't call life. I survived and finally managed to escape. I spent four years in completely foreign lands, and yet they were the best years of my life. You said you heard a lot of good things about me... Did you hear that I freed slaves from all over Slaver's Bay? The Breaker of Chains. No one ever did this, no one thought that they were people too and deserved a normal life. Soon, the concept of 'slavery' will become history. And they have will come back to it... The dragons. The world hadn't seen them for over a hundred years until my children were born. The Dothraki never followed any woman, they considered them too weak. They also never crossed any sea. And yet now they listen to me, they crossed the sea for me." she finished speaking as she stopped a step in front of him. "Many men have tried to kill me, but no one succeeded. If all that has happened to me isn't a sign that I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, I don't know what else it could be. If not fate, how else to explain it?"

"Maybe. But you will rule the frozen wasteland unless we defeat the real enemy."

In his answer, he did not refer to what she said about herself, he did not want to show that he admired her for what she did for those people from across the sea. He should finally address the issue that made him decide to come here and talk to her in the first place.

"My only enemy is Cersei Lannister."

"You are wrong, Your Grace." Davos interrupted. "Death is the enemy of us all."

"Very poetic." this time it was Tyrion who joined the discussion. She didn't see any hidden meaning behind Davos' words, but she started thinking about them in a different context...

"Let him talk." she said, giving her Hand a quick glance. "Continue..." she trailed off because she didn't know the man's name.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, thank you." he cleared his throat quietly. "I don't mean any poetry..." He looked at Tyrion for a moment. "...but a real threat. The undead army is on the other side of the Wall and they will attack us soon. An army that knows no fatigue and does not leave bodies on the battlefield. This is our enemy. If we don't deal with him... Does it really matter whose corpse sits on the Iron Throne?"

"If it doesn't matter, you might as well pledge your allegiance here and now. We all together will deal with Cersei, and then we'll go fight... Whatever you were talking about."

Honestly, she wished Tyrion wouldn't interfere right now. She didn't have anything better to say herself, and she tried to appreciate that Tyrion wanted to win another house's support for her, but she felt it didn't make sense today. They can argue all they want, but no one will trust a stranger enough to put the fate of their people in his hands.

"Enough." she said to him quietly. She hoped that would be enough to stop him from interfering with the bend-the-knee issue again. "We are strangers. I understand that you will not give your lands to me, and you should understand that I will not dedicate my army to your cause, to fight against some... Army of the undead?"

She wasn't entirely skeptical about Ser Davos' words, considering one of her dreams, but she couldn't blindly believe in them... She wasn't alone, she was dragging thousands of people along with her, she had to think about their safety, not just her own. Additionally, she has just begun the final preparations for the war against Cersei, the ships have already sailed, the fighting will begin soon. If she withdraws from the campaign as soon as it begins, what will her allies think of her? Without her in the south, Cersei will not be afraid to send an army to take over more and more lands and oppress more and more people.

"I know it sounds like some store made to scare naughty children." Robb spoke up. "But if it weren't for that, I wouldn't be here. My own sister advised me against it, and yet here I am. Maybe it's stupidity, maybe it's desperation, but coming here, I trusted you with my life, because - like you - I want to save people who have already suffered enough."

She was about to say something, she even knew what, but then they heard hurried footsteps coming from behind the corridor. It was Varys, he walked past their guests and went straight to Visenya, leaned down and whispered a few words:

"Your Grace, we need to talk urgently, it's very important."

She nodded gently and he moved away from her. She had to politely end this conversation somehow. Maybe it's even good, she will have time to think about how to approach it, now that she has the whole picture of the situation.

"Forgive me, you've come such a long way, you must be very tired. We will prepare you chambers, Missandei will show you. We'll have a bath run for you and bring you supper. If you need anything, speak to her." she forced a smile and was about to turn to Varys, but she noticed the distrustful face especially on Robb's face. Yeah... I should have understood trauma better. "I swear to my mother's memory that nothing will happen to you under my roof. You can walk around the entire island, after all, you are not my prisoners."

"You took our boat." he noticed, stopping her for a moment more.

"You'll get it back when we finish our meeting."

That was the last thing she said. She stood with her back to them and waited for them to leave so she could talk about this 'important matter'.

Robb and Davos had no other choice, so they left the chamber, and Missandei left with them. Of course he was afraid to stay in someone's home, especially since he didn't have any weapons. On the one hand, the memories of the Red Wedding came back to him as soon as he saw Visenya, but on the other hand, he felt an inexplicable peace in her presence.

She carried herself in a way that exuded confidence and strength, her outfit was in the same style as Missandei's, only more ornate. A silver chain ran across her chest, with a long piece of fabric with embroidered scales attached to it at the back. Even her hairstyle was unique, lots of braids tied up into a bun, with only a few strands left loose. When you looked at her, you truly saw a Queen, a strong personality, who knew what she wanted and how to get it.

However, after talking to her... To a large extent, it was all just appearances. She was not a cold-blooded murderer who would do anything to achieve her goal. Her difficult past certainly shaped most of her character. Therefore, he was prone to believe that she really wanted to change the world for the better.

They were practically the same age, and although life has verified many of their dreams, they still have ideals in them.

It was even good that they were interrupted. He will be able to prepare better for his next conversation with her, now that he knows how he should approach her.

Behind closed doors, however, the conversation finally began.

"We already know where the Iron Fleet is..." Varys began. It was clear from the beginning that he had bad news. "Two or three ships escaped, the rest sunk or captured. Ellaria Sand and Sand Snakes, who were to leave ships at Sunspear captured or dead, Yara and Theon Greyjoy captured or dead."

For a moment she didn't know what to do. This was only the beginning, and their plan was already starting to fall apart. Conducting a war so that as few people die as possible is much more difficult and complicated than throwing all your forces at once and breaking the enemy...

Nobody said it will be easy to be good.

"If they're alive, Euron will definitely sail with them to King's Landing... Is there any chance he's not there yet?" she asked finally.

Maybe she should sacrifice them, after all, they knew what they were signing up for. But what kind of Queen will she be if she so quickly gives up on the people who decided to fight for her?

"It is possible, but Your Grace-"

"So please, write to Euron." she interrupted Varys before he could dissuade her from this idea. "Write, that if he releases all those captured, I will meet with him."

He wanted to meet the Dragon Queen, so I will give him the opportunity, but not for free.

-> Chapter XXXV ''Advices'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

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alleyskywalker · 2 years ago

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#yara greyjoy #game of thrones #got #Yara x Sansa #Yara x Dany #Yara x Margaery #Yara x Arya #Yara x Cersei #Yara x Jon #Yara x robb #Yara x Theon #(don’t look @ me AO3 says it’s popular)#Yara x ellaria #Yara x brienne #op #my polls

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theredquill · 1 year ago

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biblically book accurate Asha Greyjoy & Alyssane ( Marysa Manderly ) in the Iron Islands chapter, hot girls meet their sister-in-law

#asoiaf oc #theon greyjoy x oc #oc: marysa manderly #asha greyjoy #fic: a butchered tongue still singing of ice and fire #yes this is still a theon x oc fic #i just like lore #yara greyjoy #fic: we’re in love #the traveling fare

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slaytheusurper · 5 months ago

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⭑ Colder than snow ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Robb Stark x Greyjoy!Bsf!Reader

A/N: Lost the ask so can't tag the person who requested it. Also I love Catelyn but in this fic she is a little mean.

Request: Yes

Summary: Growing up in Winterfell as a hostage was difficult, luckily Robb took you in but years later your friendship threatens to break when tensions rise and you have been planned to send away.

Warnings: Fluff and Angst. Heated arguments. Making out and angry Robb.

Word count: 1.8k

Growing up in Winterfell with your half brother Theon was hard on a little girl’s mind. Being a year younger than Theon meant he always told you what to do, you had a close bond with him, despite him acting like a cunt sometimes but he cared for you. As the bastard daughter of Balon Greyjoy you were captured along with Theon by the Starks. Sadly both Sansa and Arya wanted nothing to do with you.

But when you first met Robb he was kind, well mannered and handsome. He took you and Theon in and made sure you were treated well. This obviously made you develop certain affections for him. Of course you knew he was to marry a high born lady, as he was to inherit Winterfell. You always thought he had no interest in you, oh how wrong you were. Most people of Winterfell still didn’t see you as part of them but Robb saw you differently. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and an even more courageous and humorous personality. He had always felt captivated by you.

Born from salt and sea even though your mother was a servant at Pyke he still thought highly of you. For years you had to prove your worth, so you trained with the sword, practised bow and arrow and rode a horse like no other man in Winterfell. As time passed the two of you grew very close, attached at the hip and unable to separate, you were the best of friends.

Snowflakes cluttered your hair, boots cracked the snow underneath your feet as you made your way to the godswood. Lately Theon had been acting even worse than usual and he started to get on your nerves. Sometimes you could strangle him. Not only that, but Catelyn Stark had been colder to you than ever. You could relate to Jon on that matter but he never really wanted to talk to you about it, preferring you as a sparring partner and keeping to polite greetings. You heard the whispers around Winterfell, Catelyn Stark was seeking to marry you off.

She had never liked you, or Theon, but at least he served purpose as squire and could become a knight one day. But what purpose did you have? In truth she was afraid, afraid of the way Robb, her favourite son, looked at you. She needed you to leave, so she could find a proper match for the future Warden of the North. A Greyjoy as the Lady of Winterfell? The very daughter of the man who rebelled against her family? She couldn’t think of anything worse. But whispers travelled by wind and anyone who went outside could catch them.

You stared up at the bright red leaves of the tree, your people, or former people, might’ve believed in the Drowned God but you were pulled in as a little girl by the Old Gods. You found solace in them, and in the Godswood. It was always so peaceful, so quiet. You didn’t feel like a burden here. You felt annoyed and angry at everyone. Robb has been busy lately, leaving with his father to visit other houses in the north. Or visiting the Wall. Loneliness wasn’t a thing you were used to. And missed Yara, she always defended you, spoke up for you. The big sister you needed. But you hadn’t seen her in years.

And lately, loneliness was the only thing you felt. Deep in thought, the cracking of snow didn’t reach your ears until he stood right behind you. “You weren’t in the training yard, or at the gates to greet me like usual.” Robb’s low and honeyed voice spoke up. He was honestly the last person you wanted to see right now. You felt overstimulated and stuck in a routine of worrying, anxiety and more worrying. “What are you trying to say?” You didn’t even face him while answering. “That something is off about you, we have been off.” He said as he walked in front of you. If you weren’t going to turn to him, he would turn to you.

“You look upset. What’s wrong?” Robb continued. Although you were clearly not in the mood to talk. “I wish you had never befriended me.” The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. “I’m sorry?” Robb asked, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. He was very confused. Clearly he had no clue about his mother’s plans. “Are you really this thick? You have no clue what is happening do you?” You finally looked him in the eye. Tears welling as you took in his beautiful face. He had been growing his beard lately and he looked even more handsome, more grown, more suited to be married off to anyone but you.

“I- No what? I just came back from Karhold. My father wanted to speak personally to Rickard Karstark about the renovations there I- I don’t know what is happening.” He sounded so confused and so worried. “Well maybe ask your mother, since she is behind all this.” You snapped. Did he just not care? Of course not, you were just a friend, nothing more. “My mother? What the fuck are you talking about?” He was growing more upset by the minute. “She wants me gone, I don’t know why. Maybe she just doesn’t like me. She probably never has.” You looked back at the huge tree in front of you.

Robb stepped closer, grabbing your arm. You pulled away. If you had to leave, you would leave as distant as possible from him. It would hurt less, hopefully. “I didn’t have to take you in, I didn’t have to befriend you but it just happened. How could you possibly hate me for that? After all I’ve done for you!” His voice got louder each word he spoke, he grew angry at your behaviour. How was this his fault?

“Well you shouldn’t have! It would make leaving less painful!” You yelled back. “Don’t do this, don’t rush into goodbyes when I haven’t even spoken to my mother yet. Let alone my father. He would never just turn you away! You know he has a soft spot for you. Please, don’t give up.” He begged, Robb Stark never begged. But he would beg for you, he would do anything to keep you at his side. You didn’t say anything. Robb sighed and left you to your thoughts. Apparently the first thing he would be doing back at Winterfell would be picking a fight with his mother.

Lady Stark was sowing a beautiful red leaf pattern on one of Rickon’s shirts. Arya and Sansa at both her sides, trying to mimic her movements on their own pieces of fabric. Since tensions had risen at Winterfell, Catelyn thought it would be good to spend some time with her daughters to distract her from all the ruckus. But the peace was soon disturbed when her eldest son burst open the door. She knew why he was here, and she dreaded the conversation to come.

“Leave. Both of you.” His voice was cold and demanding. He sounded like his father. Both the girls dumped the fabric on the table and hurriedly left the room. When the door closed behind them only then did he speak again. “What is this I hear about marrying her off.” Catelyn sighed and put the shirt down on her lap. “Robb. Please, it would be best for the girl. She is getting older and has no place here.” She began but got cut off by Robb’s booming voice. “She has a place! By my side! The place where she has always been and where she always will be!” Catelyn knew she would get a reaction from him, but him starting to admit that he wanted her to be by his side? Always? Was new. “I might not have seen before but you have woken me up from this woolly dream. It is her. It always has been her. And she will stay by my side.” Robb didn’t even give his mother a chance to speak when he already turned on his heel and left the room.

Hours went by but Robb could not find you. He had now even sent men out and spoke to his father about his worries. He needed to speak to you, to confess his love. Before it was too late. Panic grew as the men returned at the hour of the bat, still no sign of you. Where could you have gone? Where could you have so easily disappeared? Where the fuck where y- Of course, how did he not think of it. When you were children you found this little shed, overgrown by nature and well hidden but he still knew the markings on the trees to follow. It was the only place where you could’ve gone.

Leaving with just Grey Wind and a lantern. Holding one of your tunics, Grey Wind followed the exact path you took as children to your secret hide out. He was right. He could see the place had been disturbed but still well hidden and unbeknownst to his men. Grey Wind sat outside as he stepped foot into the shed. There you were, sat in the corner with some books stolen from Winterfell’s library. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Robb smiled. You couldn’t help but smile back, deep down it felt good, comforting, that he would still look for you. Even after your fight. He walked over and sat down next to you.

Robb tapped his foot awkwardly on the floor, he knew the words. He knew exactly what he wanted to tell you but he was scared. Deep down he knew you loved him but he couldn’t be sure. “I really don’t want to lose you.” You started, closing the book and putting it on the pile next to you. “You won’t, I’ll make sure of that.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and smiled. Noticing all the little details that made you so beautiful. “It’s you. It's always been you.” You turned to him, lips slightly parted. Is he- confessing right now? “I love you. I won't let anyone take you away from me and you are-” He rambled but got cut off. You pressed your lips to his. The realisation of what you had done settled in and you quickly pulled back.

But Robb gave you no time to answer as he pulled you back in by your jaw. Your lips started moving back against him. Hands on his face and his arms around your waist. The kiss grew hungry and desperate. The cabin got hot as your lips moved hungrily against each other. His tongue softly grazed your bottom lip, allowing him in, he moved his tongue against yours. Both your short breaths and kissing sounds filling the cabin. He pulled back suddenly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He grinned. You pressed your face in his neck, holding him close. “Me too.”

#game of thrones #robb stark x reader #robb stark #robb stark and best friend reader #theon greyjoy

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tricksh0t · 20 days ago

Text

★ rock and salt

☾ theon greyjoy x top m reader // nº2

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.37k words

cw: mentions of r*pe but no actual r*pe because this is the Ironborn we're talking about, corruption, very subby theon, cunt as a name for asshole, spanking, begging, mean reader, edging (once), cheating

"My love." A man takes Yara's hand, kneeling down before her to kiss her knuckles, a suspiciously courtlike gesture.

"Betrothed." Yara returns a smile.

Theon eyes the union suspiciously. Yara's smile is too sweet, and the gesture as well. His father moves to make an introduction, bitter as his voice is, "Theon, this is your sister's promised. You'd do well to–"

To be like him or be nice to him, Theon doesn't know, for he doesn't care to listen. Over the table, the two of you lock eyes.

It is said that Iron men are so thirsty for cunts that they pillage and rape just to gain another salt-wife. Not even that, it's a well known fact that they pillage and rape just for the chance of having a new cunt.

You know well, though, that the Ironborn wouldn't be nearly as much a threat if they learned to have a taste for their brothers-in-arms, and that is the tamest thing about you.

Theon Greyjoy, below you, is someone you're about to share your knowledge with; and by the looks of it, he's already taken by the idea.

His eyes are rolled back, oh, what a sight.

Where you don't rape, you do pillage, and alongside that, you corrupt. You're still Ironborn, and this right here is your Prince of the Iron Islands, almost the heir, if it weren't for his disappearance and also for your betrothed.

He was fun to break in, and really, it wasn't much of a fight. You've broken in larger men. Only goes to show just how Stark Theon's blood is.

Although, that only makes him much more fun to fuck.

You pull out, to which Theon whines, only to spit on his hole and watch it gape. "You've such a pretty cunt, Theon."

"'S not a cunt." Theon slurs, and despite that, he spreads his legs wider just to make it easier for you to play with him.

You click your tongue, turning the prince over and splaying him over your lap. Theon gasps, and the breath turns into a wail as you splay your hand over his asscheek in a spank. "It's a pretty cunt."

"Yes." Theon concedes breathlessly. He's not a very persistent, is he? So pliable, but perhaps only for you.

You shove two fingers roughly inside him and he moans. You wonder how prettily he'd groan if they scissored him dry, but alas, he was already stretched and oiled. His cunt almost gurgled and leaked with how much oil and spit he'd begged you to use. Soon enough, he'll learn how to take you the way he was born.

Your fingers curl into his prostate, and Theon moans so loud it's almost a screech. "Say, prince," it's mocking, on your tongue, "how fares this to cunts?"

"What?" Theon asks weakly, he pushes his palms against the bed, but you push the top of his back down, turning his intentions half-accomplished as his ass is pushed up into your fingers. He chokes back a moan.

"Cunt or cock?"

You hadn't expected any less from him as he replies, "Cunt."

You click your tongue anyway, as if he's truly upset you. The flinch you get in return is proof enough that he's fallen for it.

"Yours–" He says, before you can speak, "yours is better than any cunt."

His pitiful attempt at pleasing you is only rewarded with a spank from you, followed swiftly by a caress to his prostate. Pleasure and pain mingle. "My what?"

"Your cock." He says in a gasp.

"Yeah? Tell me why."

"It's–your cock, it's big." It's not enough of a compliment, evidently, as you deliver another swift spank. "It's good! Fuck, you know how to use it. It's thick, and fuck, I love the vein."

You haven't, thankfully for him, made him suck nor jerk you off, so then that only leaves the shape of it in his ass as a method to know the feeling of the prominent vein on your dick. He's got a tactile cunt. How hilarious.

You can't help but laugh.

Theon whimpers. Between the laugh and your still fingers, you don't know why he whimpers until he whines about it, "Why are you laughing?"

A third finger makes him lose that thought. "Don't worry about it."

"'Bout what?"

"Yeah, that's right." You shake your head, working your fingers in and out of him. He's already loose, you've already stretched and fucked him open, but you can't get over the sight of your fingers getting sucked into his virgin cunt.

Theon, on the other hand, knows better things. Really, he'd just described it to you. "Please."

"No," Another spank, less harsh. You can't blame him for desiring your cock. "no, Theon, that can wait."

He goes down without a fight, chest slumping into the bed while his ass only rises higher. It's rather pathetic, really, that he doesn't fight for it; though it only goes to show how much you've tamed the spoiled, in your perception, Prince of Winterfell. "Not going to fight for it, Theon?"

Theon swallows back a whimper, shaking his head against the sheets. "You're only goin' ta hit me."

"Aw," You coo, tracing your free hand down his spine. You can almost see the way his body racks with shivers. "tell you what, prince. You beg well, and I'll let you cum."

You can see him hesitate. His legs shift, and his fingers let go of the sheets at the sides of his head.

"Please." He finally says, but it's too short and not sweet.

He earns a spank, and that has his next words gushing out like blood spill. "Please, I wanna finish so bad, please, let me cum."

You never told him how you'd get him off. Your hand wraps around his dick, and though it's not what he wanted, who's he to complain?

Your fingers and hand work him up in tandem, but just once isn't enough. "Keep talking."

"I want it so bad." Theon's quick to beg, practically wails. "Please, please, please."

He's cute when he begs. You imagine tears might be welling up in his eyes right now.

You work him up as he blabbers continuously. The fingers in his cunt curl and scissor, while the hand around his cock jerks him off; both are steady, consistent. When your hand pauses, your fingers continue. It's an assault of pleasure, never giving him pause and never working him down, only up to his peak.

He's ready, legs trembling, knuckles white as they grip the sheets. He really, really, wants to cum.

"Please."

Aside, or perhaps complimenting, his begging, his moans are pretty too. They grow louder. Perhaps if the Iron Castle wasn't segmented or instead one whole, you'd be found out.

What a sight, hm? The King Consort-to-be and the long lost Prince, all in the same day they're introduced.

Perhaps you'd have sought him out and brought him home yourself if you knew just how pliable he was.

His next moan is prolonged, his hips instinctively bucking into your hand. He's close.

But you're cruel.

"Fuck! Fuck." Theon hisses, pants, as you deny him, pulling both your hands away from him. "No, no, no, please."

"You're going to have to do a whole lot more than that, prince."

In his mind, he asked nicely. He deserved it. Of course he wanted nothing more than to cum—despite his Stark upbringing, he's Ironborn through and through. That's something you learned easily: Ironmen are ruled by their cocks. "Please, I'll do anything."

"What do you have to offer?" You reply with a scoff. As far as you know, you're the first man who's graced Theon Greyjoy with his cock. "You don't know how to ride nor how to suck cock. You've nothing but your blood in the Iron Islands. You have nothing to offer."

"I'll be yours." Theon presses his forehead against the mattress, you can see it. He's rearing back the ugly head of his pride. "This...cunt will be yours."

"Are you supposing I take you for a salt husband, Theon?"

Theon turns his head, laying the side of it on the mattress to look at you. "Yes."

The two of you lock eyes.

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ is this a bad time to admit i wanna fuck the onion knight?

#theon greyjoy x male reader #theon x male reader #theon greyjoy x reader #theon greyjoy x top male reader #theon x reader #theon x top male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #got x reader #got x male reader #got x top male reader #tricksh0t #backsh0t

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request a Dom!Theon with Sub!F reader smut!! Like the scene with Theon and Yara on the horse but continued later that night🥵 I love your writing!!

Theon Greyjoy*Give it Back

Pairing: Theon x f!reader

Word count: 1330

Warnings: teasing, enemies to lovers, make out, f! receiving oral, smut, 18+

A/n: this does deviate from your request a bit but I just couldn’t figure out how I wanted to do it that way so hope this dom theon works instead lol

Masterlist Here

You had arrived at Winterfell a couple of weeks ago with your family while they were conducting business with the Starks, but business was far from your mind. For some reason your mind had been taken over by some cocky, good for nothing, ridiculous, mean, pompous, gorgeous boy who somehow was so attractive despite his arrogance. You say this since the first time you met Theon, he tried to flex on who his father was and who he was and how great he was. You were half tempted to punch him in his very kissable face.

Instead, you decided to try ignoring him to curb your stares. “Look who it is,” Theon’s voice snapped you from your peace. You were sat at a table in the courtyard reading a book when you felt Theon’s arm fall over your shoulders, “Little lady sunshine,”

“Hello Greyjoy,” you said, refusing to take your eyes off your book.

“Leave off,” Robb laughed as he pulled Theon from you and moved to sit beside you. Theon quickly moved to sit across from you with Jon beside him. the three of them continued their conversation while you read, trying to ignore them all when suddenly.

“Hey!” Theon snatched your book. “Give it back!”

“Or what?” Theon snorted, “You’ll make me? I’d like to see you try,”

“Oh really?” you asked, standing up and pretending to be tough though you new it was a façade, “Give me it back,” you instructed again holding your hand out.

Theon laughed as he stood up, holding it out however just as you reached out, he snatched it back, “Or what?”

You sighed as you stepped over the bench and went to leave, “You are an ass Greyjoy,”

“Cmon,” he called after you. “Was only joking,”

You however ignored him as you rushed inside and decided to walk back to your room however you heard footsteps following you, “Hey wait!” you ignored Theon’s calls as you walked up the stairs with him coming closer to you. “Cmon I was only teasing,”

You turned round the corner heading to your chambers when you felt Theon grab your wrist, “Here you can have it back,” he said, holding the book out to you again.

This time you paused, sizing him up before suddenly trying to grab it but instead he just held it up out of your reach. You angrily sighed and went to storm down the corridor but Theon quickly caught back up, grabbing your wrist and turning you till your back was against the wall and he was stood in front of you, “You’re a feisty one,” he said and you hated the fact you were getting turned on by this asshole.

“Are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Theon smirked, stepping closer to you, “Well I could. If you asked nicely,”

“I’m talking about the book,”

“So am I,” he teased, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Though we both know you want something else from me,” his lips across your cheeks till they hovered over your lips, “Go on. Tell me to go away and I will. Unless you don’t want me to that is,”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat then suddenly your lips moved up as if with a mind on their own as they pressed against his. Theon was shocked at first but soon melted into the kiss. His hand moved to hold himself up against the wall while yours moved to his shoulder, trailing down his arm then…

“Hey!” Theon protested as you snatched the book and ran down the corridor giggling. You managed to open your chamber door but as you went to shut it Theon held the door open, “You took my book,”

“It’s my book,”

“Says who?”

“Tells me,”

“Oh yeah?” he said, pushing his way into your room not that you were trying very hard to stop him, “Why’d you kiss me?” His question however caught you off guard as you tried to stutter a reply, but he continued speaking cutting you off, “If I didn’t know any better id say you like when I tease you. think I don’t notice it when you blush?”

“I don’t blush,” you mumbled, realising the door was shut.

Theon laughed, raising an eyebrow, “No you do. I see you do it. I see that cute little face of yours get all embarrassed when I rile you up,”

“You’re an ass,” you tried to say but he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest making you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his eyes searching your face. You tried to avoid his gaze, but he used a finger to make you face him, “I asked you a question. Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to show you how a Greyjoy does it?” he asked, his hot breath fanning your face.

Your lips really must have a mind of their own cause they were suddenly pressed to his again. You dropped the book, no longer caring about it as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue ran over your bottom lip. When you didn’t open his hand suddenly moved to squeeze your ass. You gasped into the kiss and Theon took the opportunity.

Suddenly you felt him walking you towards the bed. Your knees hit the back of the frame and Theon only broke the kiss to push you to fall on your back on the bed. “What are you- “you tried to ask as he sunk to his knees in front of you, pulling you to the edge of the bed, “Theon- “

“Its my lord to you,” he instructed as he pushed up your skirts, “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he asked, his hands wandering up your thighs, “Me in your chambers like a dirty little secret? Teasing you, touching you, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull?” he said before suddenly nipping your thighs making you gasp, “I asked a question,” he said with a pointed look.

“Yes, my lord,” you said though it was half a whimper when his head dipped down and you could suddenly feel his hot breath fanning your wet cunt, “Please Theon-I mean my lord. Please just fuck do something please,”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned, kissing your inner thigh, “Love it when you beg for me. Knew you were dirty, so I did. fucking love, it,” he said, his mouth moving further up till he placed a kiss to your clit making you moan.

He took this as encouragement however as his lips moved to lick over your clit, your hand shooting out to grab his hair as he did so. His tongue began to work wonders, massaging your bundle of nerves before moving down to your hole. You gasped when you felt it sink in, your legs moved to rest on his shoulders. Theon’s hands moved to grab your thighs, his fingernails sinking into your flesh as his nose began to nuzzle against your clit.

You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that came from you especially not with a knot quickly tightening in your stomach. As you felt yourself come closer to the edge Theon moaned against your cunt, vibrations shooting down your spine as you felt your body tighten before you finally reached your peak while tugging on his curls. “Oh fuck, Theon,” you moaned, his tongue not stopping till you fell limp on the bed.

You were both panting as he came up for air with a grin on his now wet face, “So much for hating me,” he chuckled as he moved to lay on the bed beside you. he brushed the hair out your face as his lips moved to hover over yours, “Now where were we?”

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freakassfemme · 10 months ago

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(Smut/Drabble) Is It Casual Now? CisF! Reader x Yara Greyjoy

Summary: Y/N, a member of Yara's crew and longtime fling, finds herself struggling to face the reality of the Ironborn serving a Targaryen tyrant, especially after Yara's confession.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! It's horny but it's sad. Oral sex, f/f, lesbianism (but that's a blessing), angsty sex, sad sex, crying

A/N: YES the title is based off of Casual by Chappell Roan. Every time I listen to it I can't help but imagine something angsty with Yara.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The boat crashing against the rage of the sea only slammed your hips farther onto Yara's fingers as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Her hips worked some to hold you in place on top of the crate you sat upon, but still you tethered yourself on a rope hanging from the ceiling of the steerage.

Your moans were partially washed out by the creaking of the boat and partially by the way she smothered your lips in her own, and when she groaned back into you, your hand dropped and wrapped around her neck, deepening the kiss in a clash of teeth and tongue.

This wasn't unusual for the two of you. You'd been the only female member of her crew for quite some time, and like any of the men on board, you two preferred to find solace in the arms of a woman. It had never been anything serious, and it had always been something kept mostly private. Yara loved good company, but with a member of her crew could put her authority in jeopardy.

However, there was something unusual about the way Yara's mouth wandered to your neck. There was something entirely unusual about the way that she, rather than a simple bite on the shoulder to stifle her own noises, worked a deliberate mark right at the base of your jaw. In all three years of your little secret, Yara had never made such intentions present.

This new sensation pulled little gasps from you that floated right to Yara's spine, sending a shiver down it, so she continued placing her claim at the base of your throat, in the dip of your neck, under your ear, creating bruises that eventually washed to the other side of your throat as well.

Her fingers pumped ferociously inside of you, carelessly bruising every sweet spot like it was her last moments on this earth. When you cried out against her, she cooed into your ear so sweetly that you couldn't even form the words to tell her to stop (not that you would want to).

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?" She whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, letting out a breathy laugh.

"N-no," you said, knowing it was the complete opposite of the truth. It was impossible for you to not to, especially when you knew she could feel the way you pulsed around her fingers, the way you gushed into her palm with every push, and the twitch of your thighs with every gentle curl.

"I don't think so," you murmured, letting a teasing smile slip.

Yara shook her head, chuckling and digging her fingers into a particular spot that had you almost jumping out of your seat. She watched, lips parted as your head fell back against the wall of the ship and your eyes fought not to squeeze shut.

"Your cunt is telling me a different story," she growled. She pressed her hand into your lower stomach, building another toe-curling pressure inside you as she held you in place. She kissed you sweetly after you let out a small cry, then sank to her knees.

You watched as Yara turned her focus to mouth at your clit, the vulnerability in her kneeling not slipping past you. The admiration in her eyes, the intensity of her passion - these things did not go unnoticed, and you felt your eyes begin to water. Tingles worked their way up your shoulder, and your ears rang as she pulled moan after moan from you. Your fingers dug into the crate, and you looked down at her with flushed cheeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but every other beat pulled a painful chord in your chest, and Yara could feel the way you began to choke up. Her hand slipped down to rub your thigh affectionately, but you instinctively grabbed it, interlacing your fingers.

Your eyes began to burn and blur as salty tears slipped down your rosy cheeks, and Yara squeezed your hand, watching the way you rested your other hand over your forehead, too mixed up between the climaxing pleasure and your longing heart to stay still.

"Yara," you whimpered out, "I'm, I'm-" But you couldn't get it out. It was all too much, the banging in your chest, the way Yara's fingers opened you up as easily as two flower petals, the way she made out with your sex like it was the love of her life, the way she had made it obvious to anyone who looked at you for the next week what had happened, and how they would know exactly who did it--

-- if you made it to the end of the week.

Tensions were high in all parts of the world, and the recent alliance between the Iron Islands and Daenerys Stormborn had completed changed the basis of the Ironborn way of life, and every member of the fleet in particular was feeling the effects of it.

Being pulled so far away from home, losing friends and family members too far from the sea to even retrieve them, and now you were following the trail of the dead with Yara to meet the queen who had started all of this, who had threatened and reconstructed an ancient way of life.

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Yara stuttered, looking at you in disbelief. "That's not your decision to make, Y/N."

You stood on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair. Your fight had echoed through the halls of Pyke until Yara had had enough and pulled you into a private room, but even now, passerby stopped to listen in.

It wasn't that you were a particularly disobedient soldier. You had always trusted Yara with your life, obeyed every command, even if that meant returning to her drenched in blood and void of emotion. She was your Captain, your Queen, and you had promised your life to her.

"Why are you serving her?" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "She's not even Ironborn, and you've known her for all but a few weeks, and now you've bent the knee?"

"Y/N," Yara stepped forward cautiously, but you waved her off, stepping back. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, feel the anger ripping at the air, threatening the foundation of this offhand non-commitment commitment you had to each other.

"No, Yara!" You exclaimed, "I won't go off to die in the middle of some fucking sea-less dessert for some woman I've never met!"

"She is the Dragon Queen!" Yara argued back, slowly letting her own temper slip from her. "She is the breaker of chains! She will bring no harm to the islands - you know I would not allow that."

You turned to her, eyes burning with rage, and met her face.

"Oh, but you have so willingly sacrificed everything the Ironborn stand for and everything we are for her!" You screamed. Yara stared fiercely down at you, though she did not respond. "And for what? What do we receive in return?"

Still, Yara said nothing. This irritated you even further, so you went further, going so far as to push Yara back. She let you, still quiet.

"You cannot kill another Ironborn, so what, you've taken to dragging us far away and drowning us all in her name?" You hissed. "What has she promised you? Or are you truly just so wound up in some foreign woman's cunt you would erase everything we have worked for?"

You went to push her again, but Yara grabbed on to your wrists. She dragged you forward, bringing you until you were so close you thought she might kiss you if it weren't for the circumstances.

For a long moment, you stared at each other, rage stirring and boiling at the very sight of each other, at the implications you had grown to believe about each other during this fight.

Then, Yara opened her mouth.

Nothing came out at first, simply a few stuttered breaths, then a glance away. And though you had quite a few times before worked Yara up to the point of chosen silence, never had you rendered Yara speechless.

Then, she looked back down at you, and swallowed thickly. Her expression had changed, twisted into a much more somber one.

"If I die out there," she whispered, "I cannot die without you."

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