#‘the chosen one’ this ‘kingslayer’ that

[brisiniarel]

at the end of the day, eragon is Just Some Guy. and i love that about him

#‘the chosen one’ this ‘kingslayer’ that #eragon meanwhile: asking the stupidest fucking question ever heard in the history of ever #i do love his character growth and how he matures throughout the series #but i also love that he’s still the curious hardworking boy who was always braving the spine #even after all the titles and adventures and such #he’s just a baby he doesn’t have any money

[softsan]

Eyes On Fire. (Pt. 1)

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen & Fem!Reader

CHAPTERS: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

WORD COUNT: 3146

GENRE: Alternatively Universes/Canon Divergence, Alternative Ending, The Greens Win, Loosely based on the books/show, Made up House,

DESCRIPTION: After the Greens win the Dance of The Dragons, you a left alone navigating the dangers and woes of Kings Landing. You were one of the last survivors of House Vermillion with the expectation to restore your House to its former glory. Pressured to find yourself a husband, you unintentionally catch the eye of the dangerously, one-eye kingslayer—how will you ever survive amidst those who kill, those who take, and those who wish to eat you alive? Can also be read on AO3 here.

WARNINGS: Bodily Injury, Death, Graphic violence, Suspicion, Attempted murder, Murder, Poisoning, Possessive themes, Aemond in general

OPTIONAL PLAYLIST: Royalty by Egzod & Maestro Chives, Middle of the Night by Joel Sunny (cover), Down (feat. Trella) by Simon

You’d do your duty as always. No matter the circumstance, no matter how the tides changed. You were the dutiful daughter of House Vermillion, the red hibiscus—petals bright and blushing, with the palest of white throats. Venom, Bane, and Frenzy were your House words. Not the most eloquent of sentences but it summed up the ferocity of your House. Small in stature and territory, but always an admirable opponent.

You bowed graciously, your beautifully hand-threaded skirt brushing the tiles of the Red Keep. You proudly displayed your house colors, the orangey-red, and a white-like silver complementing your most distinguished trait—your eyes. You and all Vermillion children possessed a pair of crimson eyes. Eyes that unnerved everyone outside of your House for how otherworldly they appeared to be.

You kept your breath steady, your sight grounded to the Lord’s feet as he inspected the ladies one by one. You had been brought to Kings Landing as a hostage during the war. Locked in a degree of comfort on the uppermost floors of the dungeons. Your father, uncles, and cousins had answered the call of the Blacks to fight the Great war they now quipped as the Dance of Dragons. They had fought fiercely to their bitter ends, leaving no male heir to House Vermillion’s Island Throne.

The Greens came out of the war victorious and overnight you unexpectedly found yourself, head of your House, a position you had never foreseen for yourself. You were to represent House Vermillion during the ceremony where all the great Houses were to re-pledge their loyalties to the crown—or face the abolishment of your House altogether.

The woman beside you nervously played with the hem of her sleeve, the bottom fraying at the edges. You like most of the other ladies lined up were not keen to be chosen. After all, but days ago you were all daughters of traitors, and despite the fact that King Aegon had pardoned your Houses, the stink of your House’s past treacheries remained.

You doubted anyone lined up here would be treated kindly. Especially if you were assigned the task of serving under the Targaryen family.

“You in the gown in redden silk,” The Lord called.

You offered a smile of puffery, lifting your gaze to meet his stony face.

“You will be serving under Princess Jaehaera,”

You curtsied in response, “It will be my honor to faithfully serve under House Targaryen.”

Princess Jaehaera was a girl of one and ten, described as sweet and simple. The maids had advised you she’d be painless to handle, quiet with few words to offer. But it wasn’t Jaehaera that gave you worry it was her Queen mother Helena and by extension to the Dowager Queen Alicent. Princess Jaehaera wouldn’t know your family’s standing, nor would she know their past treacheries but her mother and grandmother would.

“Let us break fast,” You swept the curtains of Jaehaera’s chambers open, a beautiful morning light flooding the room.

Jaehaera gave a soft grumble, stirring slowly awake.

“Come on now,” You encourage, searching for the hairbrush you remembered you’d placed by her vanity the night prior, “Your Queen mother expects you to be dressed and fed before your lessons.”

The Dowager Queen Alicent had specifically brought in Artisans that specialized in embroidery from Dorne. She wanted her only granddaughter to fashion a handkerchief to gift to her unknown betrothed, which was to be revealed during the Targaryen’s first hosted ball since the war had ended.

Princess Jaehaera slid her back off her mattress, her silver hair knotted at its ends. You knelt down, the ivory brush in one hand whilst you used the other to tuck away the silver strands that obscured her face.

“I’m terrible with the needle,” Jaehaera quietly confessed to you.

You hummed, aware of so. You could read from Jaehaera’s body language that she found her embroidery lessons to be a painstaking bore.

“It’s not a bad skill to possess,” You brushed the last off her knots, reaching for some red ribbon to decorate her hair.

Jaehaera’s face remained glum.

“How about after your lessons I’ll take you to visit the gardens,” You began to braid, weaving the red ribbon throughout, “We can search for some of those jewel-colored Beatles,” You whispered, knowing exactly how to entice the young girl.

“Truly?” Jaehaera’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, but first you must wash” You stood straight, “Servants!” You instructed, “Fetch a pail of the Princess.“

A flurry of servants heeded your request. You stopped one whilst heading towards the door “Dress her something green,” You kept your voice low, motioning towards the vibrant green gown you’d acquired along with the oval-cut emerald necklace that was draped over one the chests beside her vanity.

You had hoped your efforts would be appreciated by the Hightowers. It was your duty to do all you could to keep House Vermillion alive, even if it meant denouncing your father and uncle for their support of The Blacks. House Vermillion was in a fragile state, your wealth had dramatically declined, your remaining lands were at risk of being swallowed up by the crown and your people were restless with you as their head of house.

The servant nodded, “I’ll have someone escort her to the dining hall.”

“Make sure you don’t keep her majesty waiting.” You made your exit.

Your Aunt who had stepped in as regent during your absence and had advised you by raven to marry quickly. Your House needed alliances, it needed new wealth, and most importantly it needed heirs… But finding a husband that suited you was easier said than done.

“Lady Y/N is it?” A voice startled you.

You paused your velvet slippers, turning aback. Ser Cristion Cole approached, his armor glimmering in the light that filtered through the corridors. He was undeniably handsome, his white cloak immaculate without a stain of dirt.

You had heard whispers Ser Cole had once fancied the Princess Rhaenyra and had asked her to forget her crown, run away and marry him instead. Her refusal sent him on a downward spiral of retaliation and revenge. You examined his face, finding the rumors hard to believe. He had been re-instated as Dowager Queen’s Alicent’s sworn shield, having been removed from the hand of the king.

“Indeed, I am,” You’d tread carefully, politely lifting your skirts as you bowed. If what they had said was indeed true, he was not a man you wanted to familiarize yourself with, “Do excuse my rudeness Ser Cole the preparations in the dining hall have yet to be attended to, and do not wish to keep her majesty waiting.”

You passed him with haste, noting a glimpse of a shadowy figure lurking in the depths of your peripheral vision. Was it the hair of sliver you saw? Eye if violet?

You shook your head, you must have been growing paranoid.

You came forth with a plate with Princess Jaehaera’s favorite honey cakes. You held back the long sleeve of your sage green dress, placing the plate down on the cloth that covered the table.

You had assembled cakes, the likes of Honey, Blackberry, Oat, and Cream. You had chosen the cakes according to the Targaryen’s preferences. Jaehaera adored the taste of honey, Jaehaerys had a liking for Blackberries, their mother Helena preferred the lesser sweet option of Oat, while Maelor was still a toddler and would happily enjoy the taste of cream. You, however, hadn’t counted for the presence of another, certainly not the king’s brother—Prince Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen.

You kept your expression neutral. Prior you had only seen the formidable Prince from afar. He had a head of long silver locks that draped downs his shoulders, his face was unearthly, striking, and sharp, it was as if the gods had carved him out of stone itself. His sinister violet pupil was trained on your every move. Your cheeks unintentionally flushed; you suddenly felt naked under his heated gaze.

The subtle bodily reaction his look had given you brought him satisfaction. Amused, he awaited until you passed his spot at the table. He then, caught the long sleeve off your silken gown, his thumb brushing the red and black hibiscus threaded into your dress. The flower was embroidered in his house colors, not yours.

“You bring cakes for everyone but none for myself?” There was a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher.

You offered your dearest apologizes, “Had I known your grace to be attending, I would have surely supplied some for you,”

Aemond tilted his head, “Some of what?” He challenged, pointing to the likes of the blackberry and honey cakes.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t been around Prince Aemond enough to observe his preferences. How could you possibly surmise which cake he craved, what excited his taste?

“Which cake would you bring to me?” He pressed, ignoring when his sister Helena tried to provide you with a change of conversation.

“A Winter Cake,” You finally answered, it wasn’t a type of cake baked in Westeros. It was local to the Norvos, one of the Free Cities Eastward. You thought it safe to pick since it was unlikely Prince Aemond could deny disliking a cake he had never tasted.

You waited for his dismissal, unprepared for the grin that arose on his features.

“Then I demand a Winter Cake from you the next time we meet.”

Your hands were stained with charcoal, your back leaned against a tree. You had been subconsciously tracing the outline of Prince Aermond’s face on your piece of parchment. His face was truly unlike anything other you’d seen before. His angular jaw, his pink lips, and even the pronounced scar that crossed beneath his eyepatch had a beauty of its own. They had said Targaryens were closer to gods than men and judging by their looks than perhaps that was to be true.

Aemond was bold, wilful, and hot-tempered. He was a fierce swordsman and known to be unforgiving. It was best you stayed away from him. After all, you needed to focus. You needed to paint yourself as a dutiful lady, favored by the crown enough to entice a husband that would marry you and save your House. Prince Aemond with his unnerving stare…Your finger absently grazing the eye you drew— you feared, he would bring you nothing but trouble.  

The sun had begun to make its descent down to the Earth, a cold chill running through the air. Your body shivered, lifting your cloak closer to your breast, “The hour is late we should retire to our chambers Princess,” You called to Jaehaera, who had been carrying an unfastened jar of insects.

“A little longer,” She pled, her eyes spotting a spotted moth flying past.

"Only a little,” You Affirmed, “Otherwise, you are bound to catch a cold.”

Clinking could be heard in the background, the sound of metal hitting against metal. You raised your head higher spying Prince Jaehaerys sparring with a knight. You found it odd, they were practicing in the gardens rather than in the courtyards. You narrowed your eyes, Prince Jaehaerys usually trained with the same handful of knights. This knight, however, was different. You studied his armor, the small indented crest welded into the iron.

“House Lansdale,” You quietly bespoke to yourself, “ Harold, Nephew of Ser Loreth Lansdale,”

Your face hardened, the chill you felt now was a lot stronger. Ser Loreth Lansdale had been apart of Rhaenyra’s Queensguard, faithful until his death in her defense. House Lansdale had sworn their allegiance to The Blacks and refused to honor the new order under king Aegon. Your brow furrowed, this would not end well.

Aemond Targaryen had felt the wear of court life. The fatigue of listening to Lord after Lord whine, protest, and complain about their little matters and self-serving affairs. He much prefer the time of war, at least then he could ride daily on dragon back and burn down cities as he pleased.

His now existence was monotone, void of color. He yearned for something or someone that lit his fire, that could spike his interest. He’d had thought he’d have to wait until the ball in a month’s time so he could have some fun. Yet, this time to his benefit he was mistaken.

Aemond leant over the low-hanging balcony that stared over the gardens, his elbow resting upon the stone fixture while his hand lay in his palm. The cool wind blew his sliver locks ahead while his predatory gaze fixated on you.

You appeared to be the perfect lady, kind, and well-mannered. You knew how to entertain his niece Jaehaera and charm his Queen Sister Helena. You went out of your way to garner favor from his House by spoiling Jaehaera with gifts, honoring his mother’s Hightower colors, and even embroidering Targaryen-colored hibiscus’ on the sleeves of your dresses. He admired your commitment, but what he admired, even more, was how you studied and used those around you to further your cause.

It was unquestionable that you were trying to rebuild your house. Put in a good word when you could for your Aunt, appeal to the other Lord’s sensibilities to send food and livestock to the small island House Vermillion called home. You were tactful, underneath your sweet façade.  

He watched you place down the roll of parchment, carelessly wiping your charcoal-stained hands on your skirts. You ushered Princess Jaehaera to run off to greet Lady Barom who would most likely be by the pond, dismissing the Princess’ protest, letting her know that you’d be with her in a moment.

It wasn’t until Princess Jaehaera was out of site, did you turn your focus onto his nephew who was sparring with a knight. You lurked behind a tree, using it as cover as you observed the two of them.

Aemond was beyond engrossed with the scene at hand, silently scaling down the balcony until his feet met a fresh patch of grass. He felt his sheathed Valyrian steel sword against his hip, his hand naturally finding its place upon its handle.

Aemond strayed closer, as did you. It wasn’t until he was only a few paces away did he notice he didn’t recognize the knight sparring with his nephew. In fact, his nephew shouldn’t have been sparring in the gardens altogether. Aemond’s hold on his handle tightened.

You surveyed the knight and Prince Jaehaerys just as closely. Prince Jaehaerys had been innocently smiling as he twirled, leaving an opening where his back faced the knight. The knight immediately took advantage resting the sword against Prince Jaehaerys neck. Prince Jaehaerys dropped his sword in defeat, expecting the knight to lower his too but he didn’t. Ser Harold Lansdale continued to press the blade against the young boy’s neck, scoring blood.

“Ser Harold Lansdale!” You exclaimed emerging from behind a tree, this distraction was enough to get Ser Harold Lansdale to release the pressure he was placing upon the Prince’s throat.

You used your palm to knock away the sword, quickly weaseling Prince Jaehaerys out of the way.

“You shouldn’t be so rough on such a young boy,” Pretending you were ignorant of Ser Harold Lansdale’s true intentions.

You briefly bent to peer closer at the slice the knight had inflicted on the Prince. Luckily it appeared to only have cut the surface of the skin.

“Come now Prince Jaehaerys, head inside and I’ll call for maester to clean your wound up.” Prince Jaehaerys blinked back and forth before wordlessly nodding. He followed the trees, running up the steps and out of sight.

Ser Harold Lansdale’s nostrils flared, his cheeks purple, “You protect a Hightower Prince,” He spat with venom, “Your father was loyal to the Blacks, and you repay him so.”

“He is Targaryen Prince,” You corrected, “And Ser Harold Lansdale you cannot go around slaying children.”

“They are children of my enemies,” He raised his voice, “Your enemies too.”

“Children don’t fight their father’s wars,” You dropped your usual niceties, “The war is over Ser Harold Lansdale, I advise you to restrain your anger and adapt to your circumstances.”

Your last comment seemed to set Ser Harold Lansdale off, his arms arching as he heaved his sword back into the air.

Aemond unsheathed his sword at lightning speed and was about to come barreling forward when he saw you skid back with ease, the knight’s sword landing nowhere near you. You kicked your feet off the ground, dodging his next blow. You then used your palm to hit the inside of his elbow forcing him to drop his sword. Before he had gotten the chance to bend down and retrieve it, you kicked his ankles so he lost his footing altogether. Ser Harold Lansdale tumbled, a blade you had hidden in the depth of your sleeve sliding into your grasp. You rested it against the base of this throat just as he had done so to Prince Jaehaerys, cutting the first layer of skin.

“You seem to forget yourself,” Your voice bone-chillingly cold, “I am of House Vermillion. We are not known to be easy prey.”

Aemond watched in awe, a smirk widening on his lips. He was right during his first assessment of you… you were a lot of fun.

“Kill me,” Ser Harold Lansdale demanded.

You tsked, shaking your head. The humiliation of being brought down by women may have been too much for Harold Lansdale to handle.

“And be tied to your death? That wouldn’t be too smart for my image now would it.” You pressed harder onto the blade, “I won’t kill you now,”

Aemond pouted slightly disappointed, it would have been appealing to see you kill him.

“Venom, Bane, and Frenzy” You directed into his ear, your voice awfully menacing, “The poison in this blade will kill you.”

Aemond’s smile returned.

“In approximately—” You pretended to think for a moment, “Four days I’ll say. Well, unless I give you an antidote of course.”

“Antidote?” Ser Harold Lansdale grunted.

You released your dagger, “In the next couple of days if you formally apologize to me, I’ll give you the antidote.”

“You want an apology?” Ser Harold Lansdale barked.

“A financial apology would be most welcomed. I’m thinking two thousand coins, or maybe three thousand would be more suitable.”

“You bitch!”

You ignored his further vulgarity, his cusses repetitive and unoriginal.

“Remember, you have but four days.” You hid the blade back in the sleeve of your dress, turning to walk up the stairs to find Prince Jaehaerys.

Once you were gone, Aemond stepped out from the shadows. Ser Harold Lansdale who had struggled to lift his weight on his injured ankle, froze his eyes widening with a newfound horror.

“I’d say you have less than four days,” Aemond lifted his sword, slicing it clean through.

MONICA’S NOTE: Hello! Thanks for reading my first instalment. I’ve decided to repost this again as it isn’t showing up in any tags and tumblr support is not being helpful at all. I hoping this issues with tags is resolved soon. 

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #games of thrones #games of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon aesthetic #aemond

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer’s Stone: An Fanfic Preview II

Only 28 DAYS until Elriel month and I, for one, cannot wait! I’ve been working on a long-form fanfic I plan to begin releasing on April 30 and wanted to share another taste to celebrate the arrival of Spring. I can’t wait to share more with you all come May. Constructive criticism welcomed, as always. Thanks for reading ❤🥀⚔ 

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Seer Queen. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Word Count: 451

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Pairing: Elain x Azriel (with strong Lucien x Vassa hints)

Chapter ??? - Enjoy tho ;)

She was wrath and fury, she was twenty-six years of pent up rage. She was her lost humanity, an iron ring yanked free from her finger, her father’s neck snapping beneath the devil’s hands. She could fell empires, she could burn cities, she could slay kings. 

You have slain kings, that petulant little voice murmured. 

Whether it was her own or the Cauldron’s, Elain still did not know. She never knew these days. Her blessing was her curse, but she reached for it and seized it anyways. Let it rise up and devour her, let it build like a storm, like a thunderhead waiting to collapse upon her tired shoulders. The Cauldron could create, but it could also destroy. 

Then that thing inside her began to sing, and Elain Archeron opened. 

Her white light of creation cleaved through the word, opening fissures along the battlefield and stirring ancient bones still asleep beneath the earth and calling dying stars to her aid. They speared towards that dark tower just as she commanded, warping and changing alongside her as she winnowed towards it. Soldiers died screaming wherever her light touched, nothing more than stalks of wheat bending before her holy power. The earth blackened and curled, the sky heated and shivered, her power an ancient song that shook the very foundations of this world, and then the next and the next and the next. 

An echo. 

Kingslayer, Worldcleaver, Cauldron-Blessed, Our Lady of Sight and Sorrow. 

Elain shoved her hands forward once more and another blast of her magic skittered down the line of Koschei’s soldiers, drawing out a chorus of screams that rent the twilight. They had hurt her, they had changed her, then stolen him right out of her arms. 

Him. 

She would not let herself dwell on it, on the vision of Azriel deep beneath the Tower, black iron hanging from his wrists, flames twinning around his sleeping figure. 

Never again, she’d promised him.

And Cauldron spare her, she’d meant it.

Somewhere, distantly, Vassa’s flames gilded the evening sky and an explosion of Lucien’s warm golden light sang in answer. A lord of Fire and a bird of flame. Two sides of the same fair coin, an echo and an answer she did not fully understand but knew fate demanded. 

This was why they’d been bound together, her and him, this was why they were here. To save him, to free her, to forge their own paths forward, to cleave the threads of fate they had not chosen, but needed to have in order to reach this place, this moment in time. Not a bond of love, but a bond of friendship, of power. 

A single word slammed into her. 

Carranam. 

#The Seer's Stone #Court's Court fanfic #elriel #vassien #elriel month #elain x azriel #Lucien x Vassa #acotar fanfiction

[rarepears]

Rhaegar Targaryen x Ned Stark please.... Can be something like "Kinslayer, Kingslayer & King" by Altherin or whatever other fic mood type you would like.

Not familiar with that fic, but one Rhaegar Targaryen X Ned Stark coming right up! (PS, there's also the rhaegar targaryen crowns ned stark as his Queen of Love and Beauty instead au)

--

It's actually quite simple...

Rhaegar ends up climbing into the wrong bedroom in Winterfell and kidnaps the wrong sleeping Stark. By the time he realizes his mistake, it's too late; Winterfell is already aware of the crown prince's kidnapping since a lucky guard caught sight of Rhaegar hauling ass out of the Stark keep on a majestic black warhorse with a unconscious Stark teenager slung over one shoulder, still only in a nightgown and not properly attired for the cold, damnit is the prince trying to kill the Stark hostage with the cold?!

Anyways, Rhaegar now has a Huge Problem on his hands. The entire westeros is now aware that he's taken a Stark hostage - what for, well people theorize and pin together theories with what little information is known and come to the conclusion that Rhaegar is trying to strongarm the North into backing Rhaegar's "secret rebellion to usurp the throne" campaign. And now all the noble houses are clutching their pearls and their children in fear of who held Rhaegar will attempt to seize to win more support from the nobility.

That's... really bad PR for Rhaegar. At least he has Kingsguard with him to ensure that the Stark boy can't escape? And to ensure that a lucky bandit manages to wound Rhaegar.

But still, what to do about the PR?!

Rhaegar thinks and ponders and brainstorms... But it was a drunkard in this rundown tavern that ends up proposes this most inane idea that Rhaegar ends with running with.

Yes, Rhaegar spins up a story of love between him and the secondborn Stark, twisting the narrative to change the Stark from a hostage to a foolish boy struck by love who's chosen to elope to escape the Lord Stark's well known Southern ambitions that would prevent such a union. But this also means that Rhaegar now needs to make the Stark boy go along with the story and act lovey-dovey...

Oh boy.

#rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x ned stark #ned stark #game of thrones #game of thrones ideas #a song of ice and fire #house of dragons #rhaegar targaryen kidnaps the wrong stark from winterfell & now he has to run a PR campaign & fake a relationship to save his reputation AU

[breakingthemold]

An Intro of Many Doors

Life leads us to many doors in the Outer World. Traveler, you will see here a few of the odder assortments.

This is a blog created for homebrew Histories and other assorted oddities for the BREAK!! RPG. Please enjoy your stay.

Creations Index

Histories

Aiden Survivor (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Anthropomorphized Grimoire (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Arena Gladiator (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Athletic Contender (Homeland: Other World)

Barber Surgeon (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Bitter Quest Giver (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Caravan Guard (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Chimney Sweep (Homeland: Buried Kingdoms or Twilight Meridian)

Chivalric Orders (Homeland varies)

Chosen Fun (Homeland: Any)

Colossus Slayer (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Costumed Hero (Homeland: Other World)

Darkforest Lumberjack (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Demon Hunter (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Devil's Advocate (Homeland: Twilight Meridian, Wistful Dark)

Firefighter (Homeland: Other World)

Forgotten Sword Mercenary (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Freed From the Shadow Beast (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Frequently Reincarnated (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Grin-Giver's Helper (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Infused Calling (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Kingslayer Enforcer (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Knight of the Lantern (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Knight of the Open Road (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Knight of the Sacred Chain (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Local Route Guide (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Mall Santa (Homeland: Other World)

Master Thou (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Matchmaker (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Merona's Employee (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Monster Cleanup (Homeland: Blazing Garden, Twilight Meridian, or Wistful Dark)

Muse (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Musician (Homeland: Other World)

Noble in Distress (Homeland: Blazing Garden, Twilight Meridian, or Wistful Dark)

Old Master (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Pearl Diver (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Pitiable Wretch (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Pro Gamer (Homeland: Other World)

Provincial Lawkeeper (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Railway Attendant (Homeland: Buried Kingdoms or Twilight Meridian)

Reskinned Skeleman (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Shrine Keeper (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Slow Lifer (Homeland: Blazing Garden)

Spirit Made Flesh (Homeland: Any Outer World)

Stahlfieldian Folk (Homeland: Twilight Meridian)

Truck-Kun Corp. Employee (Homeland: Other World)

Trusty Porter (Homeland: Wistful Dark)

Unchosen One (Homeland: Any)

Other

My GM Gave to Me (The 12 Days of BREAK!!mas)

(Image Source)

#intro post #breakingthemold blog #break!! rpg #post index

[regret-roulette]

[The List] 02: "I don't want to lose you to this.

Notes: chapter 2 — navigation

Summary: Every day, the list grows longer. The Guardian is afraid to become the nightmare their friends can see in them.

“Don’t you ever tire of doing other people’s busywork, Guardian?” the Nightmare of Uldren asked. “Do you ever wonder if, just maybe, people are taking advantage of you?”

The metal handle of their gun creaked as their grip tightened, leaving an imprint of their fingers.

Of course they thought about it, but it was alright wasn’t it? They were where they needed to be, doing what needed to be done.

“Was killing Uldren Sov something that needed to be done?” The nightmare of Ghost appeared over their shoulder, whispering softly.

Maybe it didn’t need to be done, they admitted that, but in the end it worked out didn’t it? With it they uncovered what Riven was up to and put a stop to that before it could get worse, right? They moved on, they forgave Uldren.

“Forgave Uldren?” Ghost’s nightmare sounded unconvinced. “You killed Uldren. You didn’t forgive him.”

They got along with Crow, didn’t they?

“Because you don’t see them as the same person! How can you forgive him when you think of them as two different people? You got revenge, not peace.”

That wasn’t true—okay, maybe it was. Maybe they didn’t forgive Uldren, maybe they could accept Crow because they understood they weren’t the same person. Two people who shared the same body. Did it matter, though? Did any of it matter? They uncovered something sinister in the end and did their best to put a stop to it.

“Are the titles ever too much to bear?” Uldren asked. “Hivebane. Young Wolf. Captain. Iron Lord. Hero of the Red War. Kingslayer. Chosen One. Godslayer.” He chuckled. “Do you even know your own name? Do you even know who you are underneath all those lofty titles?”

They were—They were—

“Guardian!” Crow interrupted, a hand landing on their shoulder, startling them out of their thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Were you ever?” Uldren’s nightmare laughed. “You woke up from the grave and got thrown into the thick of things. Have you ever had the chance to sit down and catch your breath? Could you? Or are you too restless knowing the only thing you’re good at is killing.”

Stop. They thought, shrugging off Crow’s shoulder and missing the hurt yet concerned look he cast them.

“Stop what?” Uldren mocked.

Stop it. They were supposed to be Crow’s nightmare, not theirs.

“Oh, but I can be both, can’t I? After all, I did haunt your real nightmares every time you fell asleep for the longest time, didn’t I? You can still hear it, can’t you? The click of the hammer, the sound of gunshots ringing…”

“Guardian.” Ghost’s nightmare intervened. “I don’t think this is why the Traveler chose you.. and I know this isn’t why I chose you.”

They flinched, reeling at the accusation, and pressed a hand to their helmet. Crow was in front of them again, but whatever he was saying blended in with the restless nightmares. It was so loud. Didn’t any of the others hear this? Why wasn’t Eris chiming in? Why wasn’t Crow saying something about it? Why wasn’t he defending them?

“Because,” Uldren and Ghost said in unison. “they can’t defend you from the truth. You’re a monster, Guardian.”

With an agonized shout, they pushed Crow away from them. “Shut up!” they shouted, bringing their fist full of Light down onto the wall next to them and it exploded.

Crow fell backward onto his butt, and the Guardian’s Ghost materialized, moving over to him and then looking back at their companion, concerned. The Light continued to gather into their fist and they continued to beat it into the wall that broke beneath it. Crow watched with wide eyes as murky red shadows appeared behind them. One after the other, a sea of faceless people to watch the Guardian break.

“I don’t regret killing you!” They shouted and Crow flinched, watching the Guardian turn around and swat at the growing sea of nightmares behind them. “If I am anything I am the monster they made me.”

“Crow.” Eris’ voice urgently pressed in. “Take the Guardian and return to the ship. Now.”

“I—Uhm.” Crow stammered. “Right.”

“Oh dear, look at what you’ve done. You’ve scared the little bird.” Uldren said, tutting.

The Guardian looked down at him, watching as he swallowed thickly before finding his courage and standing up beneath their scrutiny. They dusted their pants off and nervously glanced at the Guardian and away several times.

“C’mon, Guardian.” They murmured, gesturing them to take the lead.

“He can’t bear the thought of you at his back, lest you put another bullet through his head. Isn’t that right, little bird?” Uldren asked, appearing beside Crow for the first time all evening.

“Shut up. Now’s not the time.” Crow snapped back, avoiding the question.

“No. I suppose it isn’t. Then again, was there ever?” They asked and glanced toward the Guardian.

They turned on their heel, heading back the way they came with arc energy cackling around their hands. The desire to pound their fist into whatever came their way as they doubled back was too strong to resist.

"Restless, killer?" He mocked. "Don't deny it. I would know best, after all."

Crow rubbed his neck.

#Destiny 2 #Destiny 2 Crow #Destiny 2 the Crow #Crow #d2 crow #Crow x Guardian #the Crow x the Guardian #Guardian x Crow #the Guardian x the Crow #the guardian destiny #ghost #destiny ghost #Destiny imagine #Destiny scenario #Destiny fanfic #Destiny 2 imagine #Destiny 2 scenario #Destiny 2 fanfic #Destiny crow fanfic #Destiny 2 crow fanfic #Destiny crow #destiny crow x guardian #Destiny 2 the crow x guardian #uldren sov #prince uldren sov #nightmare uldren sov #nightmare uldren

[jullinh4x]

The song chosen will be this one:

#mega man fully charged #mmfc au #creepypasta #questions #babymetal #spotify #bring me to the horizon #gcmv #gacha music video #gacha club #gacha

[ladystoneboobs]

so, when it comes to jaime’s kingslaying, obviously most of us agree it was justified and jaime had good intentions, but that doesn’t mean all characters in-story can be expected to understand that, no questions asked. we know that ned stark, robert-apologist and sometime-cersei-sympathizer, is not as rigidly self-righteous and judgmental as jaime imagines him, so maybe we should think outside jaime’s pov to consider ned’s perspective. 

never once does ned say or think aerys should never have been killed, his problem is thinking jaime had no right to be the one to kill him, and ned has no reason to assume jaime had a good motive to do so. imagine if the tyrells/tywin had not been there to save the day during the battle of blackwater and then joffrey was killed by one of his own kingsguard after it was clear the battle was inevitably lost. that would be somewhat equivalent to what ned thought he found after/during the sack of king’s landing, that the kingsguard (who theoretically would be the regime’s most loyal supporters by their own chosen membership) all stayed loyal til the very last minute when one of them killed the king, only after it was clear the city was lost and the rebels would have soon gotten the king anyway. 

as far as killing the murderer of ned’s father and elder brother goes, ned can only be ungrateful for that if jaime killed him just for that reason and ned knew that’s why he did so. jaime admits to catelyn he had his own reasons and was not acting as the starks’ avenger, though he does not elaborate on his actual reasons to such an unreceptive audience. it’s not as if anyone acted against aerys as rickard and brandon were being tortured to death. if a kingslaying had happened then, yeah ned would be an unnatural son and brother not to be happy about it and instead condemn the kingslayer. but a kingslaying however many months later under seemingly unrelated circumstances, without knowledge that anyone else’s lives were in danger from aerys that day? that could feel more like ned losing the chance for justice for his kin if he’d never get to see aerys made to answer for his crimes against house stark. (i’m reminded of jaime’s cousin daven thinking robb stole his chance for vengeance by killing rickard karstark, who killed daven’s father at oxcross. a bit of a more unreasonable position than ned’s considering robb publicly executed karstark for murdering lannister kids while ser stafford died “honorably” in battle just like karstark’s lost sons. yet jaime does not judge his cousin’s dissatisfaction, so at the least he is aware that killing an enemy who killed someone else’s kin will not automatically win you the appreciation and friendship of said surviving kin. or maybe it’s just different standards for lannisters.)

and ofc we cannot ignore the tywin factor, bc ned finding jaime in the throne room did not happen in a vacuum. jaime’s dad, a guy who already had his own mass murder theme song, had just taken the city by treachery and let his army brutally sack it. that same day, or maybe one not long after, tywin would present robert with the corpses of elia and her babies gift-wrapped in lannister cloaks. tywin’s own men were not surprised to find jaime on the throne as a kingslayer bc “Jaime had been Lord Tywin's son long before he had been named to the Kingsguard.” is it any wonder ned stark saw him in the same terms? (i’m convinced anyone else would have been questioned by ned in a shocked reaction.) and it’s not like jaime being tywin’s son had nothing to do with the kingslaying.* the mad king’s last order to jaime and his last words with jaime were about killing tywin. as jaime sat on the throne, being found first by lannister men, he gave them commands as a lannister which he really was in no position to make without being part of their army. he gave them good orders, yes, and he had other reasons for killing aerys besides his father, and even if he didn’t betraying a tyrannical king rather than murdering your own father is pretty understandable, but the point is, jaime as a kingsguard can never be neatly seperated from jaime as tywin lannister’s son.** by what right does the wolf judge the lion? maybe papa lion’s bloody teeth and claws gave others a little right to judge. (just as ned later claims the right to judge the lannisters and robert both bc he’s the only one of them with relatively clean hands.)

however, it’s not just lannister pride which makes jaime assume the worst of ned’s judgment, thinking he’d condemn jaime no matter what he said, just as ned assumed the worst of jaime’s motives, never imagining they could be much different from his father’s. jaime had spent his entire early kingsguard career being told that his moral impulses were wrong. it was wrong to want to protect rhaella when she cried out in pain if aerys was the one hurting her. wrong to even show discomfort as aerys burned men alive bc it was not jaime’s right to judge the king. (hmm, it’s like there’s a pattern here.) and i’m sure there were numerous other instances like that in the daily shitshow that must have been serving aerys. then jaime finally breaks free of that learned helplessness and acts according to what he feels is right when he kills the king. and he’s still judged! by a guy who wasn’t even in the kingsguard, one of the leading rebels, no less! it must have felt to jaime like he couldn’t win either way. so jaime reverts to his standard response to kingsguard trauma: shutting up about aerys and trying to bury that shit. (he wasn’t entirely wrong when he told brienne he still had to keep the king’s secrets) and from then on he decided there was no use in doing the right thing, no matter which knightly vow you wanted to keep, and it wasn’t worth it even to try. we know he was wrong about that, so it’s not a leap that he was wrong to group ned in with the likes of gerold hightower and jonothor darry. just as it wasn’t accurate to liken roose bolton to ned back at harrenhal, however valid jaime’s feelings were enduring all of those cold gazes.

was ned unfair to judge all lannisters for tywin’s sins? yes. was it unfair of anyone to think a 15yo choosing to swear his life away fully knew what he was doing and could never question his loyalty the way others without those sacred vows could have limits to theirs? yes, ofc! just as it was not justice to kill a man for running in overwhelming fear from unstoppable monsters nobody had faced in thousands of years, nor is it just to kill a “madman” who ran with hallucinations brought on by trauma (which is basically what ned thought he was doing with gared). ned can take too many things for granted without questioning enough in his society, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have thought differently if he knew jaime’s story about the wildfire plot or if he knew gared was telling the truth about the white walkers. this is a guy who thought “oh no, what have i done?” when he realized the full significance of killing sansa’s wolf. the same guy who committed treason multiple times against both of his kings, including betraying his bff to protect the frickin’ lannisters. ned was not as harsh and unyielding as say, stannis, nor was he such a hypocrite to think only he could break laws to save innocents. he and jaime just did not have the knowledge to understand each other and both assumed the worst.

*and while ned was laughably wrong to think jaime sitting on the throne was due to jaime’s own royal ambition, he also wasn’t totally wrong to notice the position and be unable to forget it. everyone talks about how damned uncomfortable the iron throne is so i’d say any one of all those steps leading up would make a more convenient seat. jaime sitting there was not a thoughtless choice. when he’s asked if he wants to name a new king, he considered it, not declaring for robert or his father, but knowing he did not want to allow another targ king, and waiting for someone else to claim the throne from him. it’s like trying to take responsibility for the political aftermath trapped him with the kingslayer reputation.

**no, jaime, nobody cares that you weren’t actually wearing the white armor during the kingslaying when you never left the kingsguard. all the obvious symbolism in jaime’s story would be a bit too on the nose if it weren’t there for jaime’s sake as much as ours.

#asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #Jaime Lannister #Ned Stark #eddard stark #asoiaf #(c)lsb #i only really care about ned when it relates to other characters but then i feel like an expert #i already had this started in my drafts for some reason and finished it when i saw the topic on my dash again #(not totally unrelated: there's actually a certain character who makes me defensive for both ned and jaime.

[lykosog]

Closed starter for @rexaestate​

Baratheon, Arryn, Tully, Stark...an alliance that had defeated a greater dynasty than the Lannisters could ever dream of being.

At first, back when his father was still only kept a prisoner at the Red Keep, it seemed possible to rebuilt it in order to put the real rightful king on the throne. However, the Baratheon brothers were too busy now fighting against each other, his aunt Lysa refused to send him any knights ( claiming she needed them in the Vale ) and the crown of the old Kings of Winter now rested upon his head, never to be taken again. Something he knew would probably also become another obstacle towards that goal in the future.

The only ones who had joined his cause were the Riverlands after ending the Kingslayer's attack in Riverrun. But Robb was not a fool. That alone would not be enough to win a war. And so, with that change of circumstances also came a change of his plans.

He needed to find new allies and, with the fact that ships would be crucial ( for one attack or the other ) in mind, he sent Theon back to Pyke to negotiate with his father under the terms that, should Balon Greyjoy support him, he could also rule the Iron Islands as king.

Though that was not all, if he had managed to be victorious against someone like Tywin Lannister, with far more experience in warfare than him and with a bigger army, it was only for one thing. Good strategy. And with the news of a possible attack of Stannis to King's Landing, he just had the perfect one.

Or, at least, so he thought when he had marched to the westerlands. Yet, destiny seemed to not be in his favor. The older Baratheon had chosen to fight his younger brother before taking the Iron Throne. A mistake. Renly had not only the stormlands on his side but also the Reach through his marriage, and that had made him the winner. Causing his plans to change once more.

❛ It may still not be too late for it to work ❜

As soon as the news reached him, Robb gave orders for his army to continue as they had previously accorded now under the command of his great-uncle Brynden, sent a raven warning of his intentions to meet with the other king to avoid any chance of them being misinterpreted and, taking Grey Wind and the thirty members of his battle guard with him, rode to the stag's camp.

When they had not been far away from it, he had placed the crown on his head. It was going to be a discussion between two kings and as such he would present himself when they first saw each other. And how good his decision had proven to be since they were met by one of the other's men moments after that.

He lead the way, trying to have some type of conversation with him. Though, while he replied, they were other things more interesting to him. His eyes looked around and were amazed ( despite knowing the Baratheon had the largest army ) by how many people there were. In fact, Robb probably lost sense of time trying to count them because before he realized, he was in front of him  ❝  King Renly  ❞  the northener began with a very slight bow of his head  ❝  thank you for having us. I hope our visit wasn't too sudden.  ❞

#𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞? 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐫 > threads #𝐢𝐯. 𝐎𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠? > verses — King in the North #rexaestate #like I said #way longer that I wanted it to be #but I felt like it was right to explain why Robb would find himself in that situation #hope it is okay!

[mira-gilastorm]

(an excerpt from my upcoming fix-it)

The Chronicles of the Queen to Never Be

As best recalled by King Viserys, First of his Name; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms; Protector of the Realm.

Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn, First of her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; Lady of the Seven Kingdoms; Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, Prince that was Promised, and Azor Ahai returned – Mother of Dragons.

I have known this girl from the moment she was born – or so I thought. Even kings bow when gods speak. The gods have chosen this girl for greatness. In my lifetime, I have known her as the only daughter of my beloved sister, Visenya Lannister, who died in childbirth after being severely mistreated by her husband. When she begged me to never subject her daughter to the same, to never force her into a marriage – I could not help but agree.

A princess raised with no intent for the throne or need for any political alliance. Her only allegiance in the ten-and-two years she has lived under my care has been to her family. A Targaryen born with the fire of a dragonrider but who would never choose a dragon to bond with, she always lived with a look in her eyes like there was something she was waiting for.

After the death of my own beloved Queen Aemma, the Red Keep was visited by a red priest of Volantis who bore a chest with three dragon eggs from Valyria itself – turned to stone from their years in the wastelands of Asshai.

The Princess Daenerys did not even need the woman to finish speaking before she knew what was in the chest – that they were her own dragons.

Daenerys Targaryen is the daughter of Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King, the youngest of his three children. Her oldest brother, Rhaegar, was married to Elia Martell of Dorne, who bore his children. A second wife has been referred to but not confirmed. Her second brother, Viserys, went into exile with her once their family was killed and the throne taken.

The man to take the throne, a Baratheon, was backed heavily by the Lannisters and Starks. The Lannisters committed horrible atrocities in the process of taking the Iron Throne from the Targaryens, putting their daughter, Cercei, in power as Queen to the Usurper, though all her three children were known to be bastards from her twin brother, Jaime Lannister – Kingslayer of the Kingsguard.

Daenerys was born in “salt and smoke” as the prophecies say, on Dragonstone. Her mother passed in the childbirth. She was taken to Essos with her brother and a wetnurse immediately, fleeing the vengeance of those who had taken her father’s throne.

In Essos, she and her brother, the “Beggar King,” as he was dubbed, lived on the loyalty and goodwill of benefactors waiting for them to retake their crown. She had always assumed they would one day cross the Narrow Sea, where she would wed her brother and they would avenge their family with fire and blood – their father who had been murdered upon his own throne by his own sworn Kingsguard, their brother whose children were brutally murdered in their cribs, and he whose chest was crushed for daring to love the wrong woman.

Instead, Daenerys was married to Khal Drogo of the Dothraki in an exchange – her for a crown. Her brother traded her hand for an army of Dothraki to retake Westeros. Only, Prince Viserys did not understand the culture he had made a deal with – he anticipated immediate reciprocation and did not receive it. His impatience cost him his life.

As a bride gift, she received many things, but the most notable was the very chest she was given by the red priest in my very own throne room – with the same eggs, turned to stone with the centuries.

Now a Khaleesi, queen in her own way, Daenerys grew pregnant a child who was prophesied to be the “Stallion who would mount the world.” A threat to the enemies of the Dothraki and Targaryens alike, leading to a curse of a blood witch upon her Khal. Daenerys bargained for the life of her husband, offering her life – “a life for a life.”

Yet it was the life of her son that the witch took and it was only breath that she gave to Khal Drogo. An excuse for life – not true living. So she spared him, taking mercy and then placing both her husband and son on a great pyre, with the witch who killed them tied to it.

Daenerys laid her stone dragon eggs on the pyre with her loves and then laid down with them, waking the next morning – unburnt and as the Mother of Dragons.

The red star bled in the sky at the rebirth of dragons in the world – three, for the dragon has three heads.

Her husband’s Khalasaar followed her, first to Quarth where she burned the mages for daring to take her children, then on to Slaver’s Bay where she became the Breaker of Chains and Queen of Meereen.

Daenerys Targaryen ruled in Meereen, marrying a noble from the city for a political alliance as she navigated the economics of a region that had depended on the very slavery she had abolished.

After her rule there, she made her way to Westeros with a considerable army – the Gold Company, Unsullied, her Dothraki, and the others she had gained the loyalty and love of along the way. She landed at Dragonstone as the Targaryen conquerors of old, making her presence known and receiving lords who were ready to support her against the Lannisters who held power in Kings Landing.

The Baratheon king had been murdered by his Lannister wife, who then executed the Lord Stark – Hand of the King, setting off a civil war. A young Stark was named “King in the North” and called the Young Wolf, winning many battles against them until they murdered him at his own wedding.

The Lannisters’ own boy-King, the son, died at his own wedding – and the girl was passed to the next heir, before the Queen Mother destroyed the entire Sept of Baelor with she and many others in it.

No other mention was made of any other of Cercei Lannister’s children ruling in Kings Landing. It may be presumed they were in the Sept when she used the wildfire to destroy it.

Daenerys Targaryen is Azor Ahai reborn. She is the one to stop the Long Night – and she did it once before, except it went wrong. A Targaryen did not sit the throne. Cercei Lannister did. When the North called for Daenerys to save the world of men, she answered, but Kings Landing would not.

Kings Landing prepared to kill her dragons. She lost her golden Vhaegar to the Night King and emerald green Rhaegal to the Lannisters.

So there was yet another war still to be fought once the Long Night was ended. Kings Landing was not left standing in the wake of Daenerys’ rage – nor that of her great black dragon, Drogon.

She burned all in her grief, breaking under the weight of all that had been taken and would never be returned. Not even the Iron Throne was enough of a consolation.

At the end of her life – long after my own will end, and yet still somehow before I met her – Daenerys Stormborn was the last Targaryen. The last dragon. Murdered by a blade to the back before she could ever sit her throne. By a mysterious man from the North who rides with a white direwolf with red eyes – the same white wolf painted on his armor.

A wolf ending the dragons in the ruins of the city our ancestors built.

Though that was to be my legacy. I was to doom the Targaryens as surely as the Fourteen doomed Valyria.

Daenerys Stormborn was raised as a Targaryen princess, even in exile – learning the history of her family, her home – speaking as many languages as could be taught to a young girl always on the run.

The fall of House Targaryen started here, with the death of my dear Queen Aemma. It is fortuitous, then, that the Red God decided to intervene at this very moment to prevent these events from ever coming to pass – or at least not in the way they did, or would have.

After the death of Queen Aemma, I, King Viserys, First of his Name, determined that my daughter should be officially named heir.

However, with the machinations of Otto Hightower, I was convinced to marry Alicent Hightower and had a son – Aegon, and others, though they were never explicitly mentioned. The refusal to supplant Rhaenyra for Aegon caused a rift to form between those who would support the Queen and those who would support the Princess.

Another mistake made – keeping Rhaenyra and Daemon apart. My brother has doted on the Princess Rhaenyra from the moment of her birth. If given a dragon’s breath of a chance, he would woo her simply for the spectacle of it.

Instead, what was done was refusing Daemon’s attempts at asking for the Princess’ hand and sending him away. I fear sometimes that they stoke each other’s chaos and fire too much; that they will burn too brightly.

Daemon married Laena Valaryon and took her on an adventure to Essos, where she bonded with Vhaegar, the largest and oldest living dragon.

Rhaenyra continued on her betrothal tour, finally settling on her cousin Laenor Valaryon, despite his being known for his interest in men, due to the political advantage of the match. She had three sons – all speculated to belong to her lover, Ser Harwin Strong.

Laena gave Daemon twins before dying in childbirth. Laenor went missing in battle in the Stepstones and was declared dead after many months. It was not long after that Rhaenyra and Daemon were married secretly, despite knowing my desire to keep them apart.

To my shame now – learning of this history that is not – I banished them. The Hightowers used this banishment to hide my own death from them, usurping the crown from my daughter and giving it to Aegon.

When she heard of this, Rhaenyra went into pre-mature labor and lost her only daughter. A war ensued – Targaryen against Targaryen, dragon against dragon.

Our house was lost in the Dance. With so few left after, the marriage of brother to sister and niece to uncle and on and on left madness in our family. Our dragons dwindled down until they were gone.

It led to the Mad King that reigned and was killed as he sat the throne.

Mine own decisions led to the suffering of Daenerys Stormborn, the Prince that was Promised.

These are the tales told by the memories and dreams of Daenerys Targaryen, as well as the flames of Melisandre the red priest of Volantis. Make of it what you will for it is now never to be.

#daemyra #jonerys #hotd #got #rhaneyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #daenerys targaryen #jon snow

[mayamidnightmelody]

Do you recognize all of these villains?

Yo, fellow geeks! Let's dive into the wicked world of fictional villains, where bad is oh-so-good and baddies reign supreme. From classic lit to today's flicks, these villains bring the drama and keep us on the edge of our seats. Check it!

The Mastermind:

What's the Deal: These brainiacs are all about pulling strings, manipulating minds, and making heroes sweat.

Top Picks:

Hannibal Lecter (The Silence of the Lambs): This dude's like the ultimate evil genius. With his creepy charm and killer IQ, he's the stuff of nightmares.

Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars): Talk about a power trip! This Sith Lord plays the long game, pulling strings behind the scenes to score that ultimate galactic takeover.

The Enigma:

They're Like, So Mysterious: These villains keep us guessing with their wild cards and unpredictable vibes.

Must-See Picks:

The Joker (DC Comics): Chaos in human form, this dude's motives are as twisted as his grin. You never know what he's gonna pull next, and that's what makes him terrifyingly awesome.

Professor Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes): The ultimate rival to our fave detective, Moriarty's mind games keep us hooked. Who knew being bad could be so intellectually sexy?

The Power-Hungry:

All About that Power Trip: These villains stop at nothing to climb the ladder of success, no matter who they have to step on.

Top Contenders:

Lord Voldemort (Harry Potter): He who must not be named is all about that dark magic and world domination. Plus, that noseless look? Iconic.

Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones): Queen bee of the Iron Throne, Cersei's got ambition for days. She'll do anything to keep her crown, even if it means playing dirty.

The Tragic:

More Than Meets the Eye: These villains have layers, y'all. Behind the evil deeds lies a story that'll tug at your heartstrings.

Magneto (X-Men): He's not just a metal-bending baddie; he's a survivor with a cause. Magneto's tragic past gives him a depth that's hard to resist.

Severus Snape (Harry Potter): From potions master to misunderstood hero, Snape's journey is a rollercoaster of feels. Who knew greasy hair could hide such a big heart?

The Monstrous:

Straight-Up Evil: These villains are so bad, they give us chills. They're the stuff of nightmares, and we can't get enough.

Top Monsters:

Sauron (The Lord of the Rings): One ring to rule them all, and Sauron's all about that domination. With his evil eye and dark armies, he's like the OG bad guy.

Dolores Umbridge (Harry Potter): Pink outfits and kittens? Don't be fooled—Umbridge is as wicked as they come. She's like your worst teacher nightmare, times ten.

The Fallen Hero:

From Hero to Zero: These villains started out on the right side of the tracks but took a one-way trip to the dark side.

Top Tragic Tales:

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader (Star Wars): Anakin's fall from grace is like Shakespearean drama in space. From chosen one to Sith Lord, his story's a cautionary tale about power and redemption.

Jaime Lannister (Game of Thrones): The Kingslayer's journey is as twisted as his relationship with his sis. But hey, at least he's got that golden hand to rock the bad boy look.

Wrap-Up:

So there you have it, geek squad! Fictional villains may be bad to the bone, but they're the ones who keep us coming back for more. Whether they're pulling strings, breaking hearts, or just looking super creepy, these baddies are the real MVPs of storytelling.

😈

And you favourite villains?

#league of villains #villains #do you recognize all of them? #darth vader #dolores umbridge #cersei lannister #lord voldemort #here is johnny #palpatine #agent smith #hanibal lecter #saruman #sauron #the joker

[heyseihai]

Advisors: Are you sure, Heika? She's...

A kingslayer, a kinslayer, an exiled, and maybe an Eel's puppet at that point...

Tenma: Even with all those labels, she was the one to put out the fires of a rebellion not even my father before me was able to predict.

She could have become the sakurai girl's mistress and seize the power she's wanted for so long. Even after being wronged by their father, Yuki had chosen to protect them. To strike down a rebellion she could have greatly taken advantage of.

Tenma: If she wants power, that's what she'll get. She'll be my right hand, the first to strike my enemies and the first to honour me...

And the first one on the suspect's list if anything happened. The closest to the king, the easiest it was to be framed as culprit of anything. Yuki had too many sins on her account already, she would carry that power on her back until she was crushed by it.

She was rounded by other advisors as show-off as she had been in the past. It was her turn now. With much more a curse than a gift, Yuki would have a much harder time defending herself from the kingdom than protecting Tenma.

She was, maybe, more loyal to him than anyone in there. Whether or not she would allow herself to be defeated by her guilt, it was just a matter ot time.

#sorry Yuki #you'll always be remembered by Tennoh's death #and yep Tenma is reasonable #but sometimes he... happily he doesn't voice many of his thoughts

[sisi-halloway]

Kingslayer

Yousef cupped Charlie’s face passionately, his strong hands as cold as ice. They were familiar as they glided down the surface of Charlie’s bare skin. Her lips searched for the warm and sure reassurances his always provided her. As their ravenous appetites collided, Charlie felt his aura overwhelm her. Dominant, desperate, and in control. She was nothing but a leaf in the raging storm of his desire and she liked that. She liked that he was predator, and she was the prey. She liked that he was the king and she was his consort. She liked the power he seemed to think he had over her.

He undressed her, letting every piece of clothing hang off her body as needy moans hung in the air. The room was silent but for the rustling of the sheets and the human sound of skin on more skin. As Charlie felt her lover’s strength build, her thoughts played in her head like a music box rigged to explode. Her back against the bed, his weight on top, his girth inside, she gasped for it happened all at once.

She called his name. He let the sweet sound fall upon his ears like golden honey.

He moved inside her like a native creature of the sea moved through the ocean’s reckless waves.

“Charlie… I’ve waited to take you…”

She closes her eyes, her lashes soft caresses on his shoulder. His voice was her anchor, the one thing she could hold onto as his love crashed upon her from all sides. She was lost inside that manic passion of his. Not many had the privilege of experiencing Yousef’s obsessive adoration… but she was the lucky one. Chosen to be his, chosen to please him and be pleased by him. She was selected by the most powerful man in the world it seemed like, to be his property. How sweet that was.

“Yes? You wanted me, baby?”

Her words made the king weak, Yousef trying to keep pace, but somehow finding himself struggling to keep deeper inside her with sporadic strokes and ragged breaths. He nods obediently, which the king does not do for many.

“Yes… yes, Mensa da mi, I’ve wanted you…”

Charlie could feel in her core, every ridge of his anatomy. Every curve and every line were dragging in and out of her sweetness, causing the corners of her vision to blur. He felt like heaven here inside her, and she didn’t want it to end.

Oh but it had to end.

“Say that you love me, Yousef.”

He did.

“Say you’d do anything for me, Yousef.”

He did.

Her heart was beginning to ache. Could she do this? Could she really be capable of this heinous, treasonous act that, for the split second following would warrant the worst guilt she had ever experienced in her young life?

She had to.

Her bracelet, dangling on her wrist, the wrists Yousef was pinning to the bed above her. When Yousef buried his head into her neck, she grabbed the charm and crushed it. Between the sincere rolling of his hip against hers, she considered really what was about to happen. She realized she couldn’t do that for long without reversing her decision.

When she went to kiss the king, she looked into his eyes.

“I loved you, Yousef.”

He raised his brow at the word she used.

Loved.

Didn’t she love him? Wasn’t she loving him right at this very moment in time? With him inside her, whispering his allegiances and promises to her… didn’t she love him.

The kiss was sweeter than anything that had ever come from Charlie’s lips. What she rubbed on his lip thereafter was bitter. Not to the taste, but in the deed. The bitterness and the evil she had brought into this bed when he brought nothing but love.

He didn’t have time to be confused. He licked his lip and kissed her finger, disregarding her strange choice of words. When he went in for another kiss, Charlie brushed his hair back and smiled. But that smile was the saddest smile he had seen from her. Even if their discussions and confessions from the heart suddenly replayed in her mind all over again, she couldn’t have smiled a sadder smile.

He was to ask her what was wrong, what was troubling his princess. But Yousef found quickly, that he was feeling unwell.

As his body tensed and intense twists of pain crept into his middle, Yousef blinked in disbelief. He looked at Charlie for the answers, and to his horror, his epiphany was that she had them.

She rolled over on top of Yousef, who was now weak in the arm and legs, a cloud of heinous fog descending upon his senses. Charlie felt him leave her for the last time, knowing he’d never finish this love that they’d started.

“W-what did you do to me?”

His voice was lost and helpless, something Charlie wasn’t used to hearing from him. She cupped the back of his neck, helping him sit up against his pillows. She had rehearsed this scenario in her mind over and over, probably a thousand times. But she never got this far.

That was her problem. She always got the job done, no matter the cost. She’d worry about the regrets later.

The job was now done; so here came the regrets.

Charlie was lost for words. Times like this she wondered if she was actually human. She did these terrible things, things that were required of her. Then she turned and had the gall to have a conscience about it. Out of all the people she’s hurt… this has hurt her the most.

“I- I-‘m sorry…”

Yousef grappled for breath as he looked into Charlie’s welling eyes His expression, furrowed brows, was that of confusion. He didn’t know why. He barely could process what was happening before his eyes.

Charlie knew what was happening. His fine motor skills had already disappeared. His fingers he used to caress her, to love her, they wouldn’t be able to bend. The toes that would sometimes brush hers under the covers on cold nights, they’d be frostbitten with paralysis. It would spread from there, to his arms his legs to his organs. The compound of the poison would attack everything that allowed him to move and to live. It would tell his body to stop. His lungs will wilt like roses, his heart will still like a stone. His brain will be the last thing left, wondering why. It sounded terrible to Charlie even now, but she reassured herself this is the quickest way. The best way for her to do this.

It dawns on Yousef that he had been betrayed. By someone he’d never expect it from. That’s what made it so… romantically tragic. Instead of panic, he calmly looks up into the tearful eyes of the woman that had been his safe place only a few moments ago.

“I was… a job. Wasn’t I?”

Charlie didn’t know what to say. She just nodded quickly, looking anywhere but his eyes. She was trying to make sure he died comfortably, but that seemed like a back-handed gesture for what she had just done. She had robbed the man, who quite possibly could’ve been the love of her life, of his own life. He wasn’t yet thirty, building a better life. One that made him happy, one that Charlie had urged him to build all the while she plotted to kill him. She hadn’t intended to really fall in love… but it had happened, nonetheless. And here she was, this kamikaze, ruining everything she touched.

Yousef searched her eyes for the truth. He must’ve known he only had a few minutes left, and even fewer words left in his lungs.

“Please, tell me… at least…some part of this… was real.”

Charlie couldn’t keep her tears back any longer. They spilled over her lashes as she sobbed out her answer.

It had all been real to her. Every flower, every hug, every fight, every kiss, every day, every night, every laugh, every time they had made love. It was all so real. She wondered if she could ever make him believe that.

With a trembling hand, Yousef reached up to grab her face. His lungs were already shallowing, holding no more air than a small saucer. Charlie was prepared to meet the devil himself soon after this, by her own hands. Watching Yousef’s life leave his body like this was her own personal hell. She didn’t think it could get much worse until he smiled.

He smiled with poisoned lips full of love and forgiveness.

It was that smile Charlie was forced to stare at as Yousef closed his eyes.

“I love you too, Charlie.”

#charlie reyes #yousef aldama

[ophelia-network]

"As I became a creature of the empty tunnels, survival became easier and more difficult all at once. I gained in the physical skills and experience necessary to live on. I could defeat almost anything that wandered into my chosen domain. It did not take me long, however, to discover one nemesis that I could neither defeat nor flee. It followed me wherever I went - indeed, the farther I ran, the more it closed in around me. My enemy was solitude, the interminable, incessant silence of hushed corridors." ― R.A. Salvatore, Exile

Lost Girl by Kristina Carroll, kingslayer games

#lost girl #kristina carroll #ra salvatore #quotes #surreal #dreamscape #ophelia net #dark #trees #woods #eerie #creepy #green and blue #painting #empty #experience #lifelessons #nemesis #solitude #silence #shadow self #alone #introverts #inner thoughts #inner feelings #anxiety #depression #words #art

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Elenna Stark Character Bio

Basics

Full Name: Elenna (Stark) Lannister

Nicknames: Lennie, Winter Rose, Little Wolf, Lady of Ice, Wolves Eye

Age: 17 (at the start of Game of Thrones)

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Appearance

Race: Human

Skin Tone: Pale

Eye Color: Grey

Hair Color: Dark auburn

Hairstyle: Long and often braided in the style of whatever part of Westeros she finds herself; her favorite being a simple braid from the North

Build: Solid with defined curves

Height: 5’ 4’’

Style: Conservative, often covering herself from neck to foot, even in the South

Personality

General Personality Traits: Maternal, Pragmatic, Loyal

Strengths: Intelligence, Adaptability, Insight

Flaws: Anger, Stubbornness, Pride

Habits And Mannerisms: Has an uncanny ability to stay perfectly still for hours on end, resting stoicism, fiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous

Secrets: She’s never felt any sexual draw to man or woman in her life

Regrets: Ever having left Winterfell

Skills/Talents: Articulate, decent singer, skilled embroiderer, talented with a bow and arrow

Likes: The cold, the smell of wood smoke, intelligent conversation

Dislikes: The heat, sweet perfumes, condescension

Sense of Humor: Her own humor comes out in dry come backs and observations

Guilty Pleasure: Crude humor and anything sweet

Defining Moment: When her father tells her the truth about Jaime and Cersei, she still begs him to declare Joffrey the rightful heir; she’s willing to swallow her pride and keep Jaime and Cersei’s secret so long as her family lives.

Relationships

Family: Eddard Stark (father), Catelyn Stark (mother), Robb Stark (twin brother), Sansa Stark (sister), Arya Stark (sister), Bran Stark (brother), Rickon Stark (brother), Jon Snow (half-brother)

Friends: Tyrion Lannister, Margery Tyrell, Brienne of Tarth, Bronn (maybe, jury is still out)

Enemies: Cersei Lannister

Rivals: The Lannisters

Lovers: N/A

Relationship Status: Married to Jaime Lannister

Reputation: A Winter Rose, doing her best not to melt in the heat of the South

Miscellaneous

Current Residence: Casterly Rock

Collections: Every letter she’s received from home in the year she’s lived at the Rock

Accent: Northern English

Voice: Low and clear

Signature Quote: “Many a fool have mistaken my fangs for thorns.”

Song: Howl by Florence + The Machine

Backstory

Elenna was born in Winterfell as the first daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, and twin to Robb Stark. She was happy there. She adored all her siblings and they in turn loved her. If given her choice, she would have lived the rest of her life within Winterfell’s walls. As the eldest daughter, however, her duty lay with whatever husband was chosen for her. She never had any illusion otherwise. But she never imagined the man she would marry would be a man without honor, the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister.

When she received the news she was in shock, but made no fight against the match. She knew it wasn’t her father’s choice. She also held out hope that, over time, she could find a home at the Rock. Her mother often told her the love was not always a clear path and that she and her father built their love stone by stone over years. The thought comforted her as she traveled the King’s Road to her new husband.

When she arrived, she made a point to be as open and cordial as possible. Her soon to be husband, wasn’t as receptive. He openly rejected her attempts at friendship at every opportunity. His sister, Cersei, was even more hostile towards her. Tywin seemed to think nothing of her, but as a vessel for his future heir. The only one even remotely kind to her was Tyrion, a gesture she took to heart.

The wedding was a tense affair. While nothing objectionable happened, it was clear Jaime held nothing but the utter contempt for her. This obviously did not help in Ned’s opinion of Jaime or her mother or brother. She was certain blood would be spilt by the time the bedding ceremony came. Much to her surprise, however, Jaime was as opposed to the ceremony as her father. In retrospect, she mused it was the only thing that saved Jaime from losing all his teeth.

They each performed their duty that night. Jaime didn’t look at her and Elenna felt nothing. He left her quickly after and she spent the night alone and cold in her bed.

The next morning, Jaime still refused to look at her and Elenna finally broke down, telling him plainly that he’s not the only one who didn’t want this. If she had her way she would still be in Winterfell, but she’s stuck here just as much as he is. There is no getting out of their marriage, so they’re left with two options; avoid each other and be miserable for the rest of their lives, or attempt not to be enemies and make the most of it. She also refuses to sleep with him again until he can look at her with something other than contempt.

It takes time, but Elenna’s speech does eventually get to Jaime. He sees how much effort she puts into being the Lady of Casterly Rock. She adopts Western dress. She learns the names of all the servants working within the castle. He sees her and Tyrion laughing and talking. He’s shocked to hear from Tyrion how she is taking on the task of learning how to run the household from his father. Apparently, she sits in Tywin’s study for approximately two hours every day and by some miracle his father doesn’t kick her out.

This prompts Jaime to start and make some effort himself, bridging the gap and attempting friendship. They do not love each other, but over the course of a year a respect starts to form.

It’s then, they get a letter from King’s Landing. The King is taking the King’s Road to Winterfell and he has extended an invitation to Lord Jaime and Elenna Lannister.

#elenna stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #game of thrones oc #asoiaf oc #jaime lannister x oc

[storiesforallfandoms]

disrespect ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 1799

request?: no

description: the prince of dorne doesn’t take too kindly to people disrespecting his paramour, especially not lannisters

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

(Y/N) watched the buildings and the people of King’s Landing pass by as the carriage drew nearer to the palace. All eyes turned to watch them pass by, trying to sneak a peak at the latest guests for King Joffery’s wedding.

A warm hand on top of hers brought her back into the carriage, where the true royal guest everyone was excited to see smiled lovingly at her.

“You seem distracted my love,” he noted, bringing her hand to his lips.

“I was just watching the people of King’s Landing,” she responded. “They are...dirty looking.”

“The bastard king does not care for his people,” Oberyn responded. “If they are poor he has no use for them, so he lets them struggle and die as he pleases.”

(Y/N) winced. “These poor people.”

Oberyn squeezed her hand slightly. “The minute the wedding is over we will return home my love. Try not to despair for too long.”

(Y/N) chuckled humorlessly. “It is hard not to despair when I am dreading our arrival and introduction to the Lannisters. I have no doubts that they will make it known that I am unwelcome.”

“You have every right to be at this wedding. You are no less than I am.”

“I am a whore in royal clothing.”

“You are my wife. You are a royal lady, and you are much better than any Lannister could ever dream of being.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned over to kiss her husband. He cupped her face with one hand, the other trailing up her skirt. Her legs opened instincitvely, allowing Oberyn’s hand to slip between them. Before they could go any further, the carriage came to a stop.

“We’re here, My Lord and Lady,” the coachman told them.

(Y/N) pouted as Oberyn took his hand away and fixed her skirt. He chuckled at her reaction. “We will finish this in private.”

They were approached by one of the King’s guards who then led them into the palace. King Joffery, his future wife, Margaery Tyrell, and his mother, Cersei Lannister, were all sat together in the throne room as Oberyn and (Y/N) entered.

“Your Grace,” the guard announced. “Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, and his wife, Lady (Y/N) Martell.”

Oberyn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he plastered the best fake smile he could muster on his face. “Your Grace.”

“I believe my invitation reached the wrong brother,” Joffery said, giving the two of them a sour look. “I invited Doran Martell, the true heir to the Dornish throne.”

“Do not be rude to our guests,” Margaery mumbled to the King. “Welcome Prince Oberyn and Lady (Y/N). We are glad to have you as our guests.”

(Y/N) tried not to make eye contact with Cersei, but it was hard when the queen was glaring daggers into her. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was only married into the royal life, not born into it, and anyone who was less than royal was scum in the eyes of the Lannisters.

As if noticing her discomfort (or Cersei’s glaring), Oberyn wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and held her tightly to him. "Do you mind showing us to our room? It has been a very long trip for the two of us.”

“Of course,” Margaery responded. She waved a hand for one of the guards to show the two of them out.

She’ll make a great queen, (Y/N) thought to herself.

The room that was provided for them was large and already lit by a fireplace. The bed was bigger than (Y/N) could ever imagine. She threw herself down onto the comfortable bedding, her aching muscles from the long journey feeling more relaxed than before.

“That went about as I expected,” she said. “I cannot wait until the wedding so we can go home.”

“It will come soon, my paramour,” Oberyn said, standing between her legs at the end of the bed. “Now that we are alone, shall we continue what we were doing earlier?”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly pulled her husband down on top of her, causing him to laugh as well as he pressed his lips against hers.

~~~~~~

The next day, when the sun was high in the sky and warming the land, Oberyn decided to take (Y/N) for a walk around the palace. It had been so many years since he had been in King’s Landing, back when his sister Elia was married to Rhaegar Targaryen, but he could still remember the beauty of the place as if it were yesterday.

(Y/N) loved to see the beauty in places. Before catching Oberyn’s attention, she was stuck in the filthy whore house that barley let her see the outside world. Oberyn had the utmost respect for women who were only able to sell their bodies as a means to get by, but he had no respect for the men who treated their prostitutes so poorly. Now that he had (Y/N), he intended to show her every beauty that the world had to offer.

“This place is beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed as they walked through a beautiful flower garden.

Oberyn smiled at her and paused for a moment to pick one of the flowers from the ground. “A beautiful flower for my beautiful flower.”

Blush creeped across (Y/N)’s face as he placed the flower gently into her hair. “You could get in trouble for that.”

“I could get in trouble for many things, but still I do as I wish.”

(Y/N) smiled brightly at her husband and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting nothing more than to just hold her forever.

“Ah, my apologies.”

The couple pulled apart to see a very familiar face entering the garden - that of Jaime Lannister, the King’s uncle and Cersei’s twin brother. Oberyn tightened his hold on (Y/N)’s waist as he regarded the Kingslayer.

“I was not aware anyone else was out here,” Jaime said as he approached the two lovers.

“We were just passing through,” Oberyn said. “I was showing my beautiful wife the sights of your lovely land.”

Jaime glanced at (Y/N) for a moment before smiling at the two of them. “You must be Prince Oberyn of Dorne. It is nice to finally meet you.”

Oberyn begrudgingly shook Jaime’s hand, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around (Y/N) still.

“I do not believe I have heard of you,” Jaime said to (Y/N). “You are Prince Oberyn’s wife? How long have you two been wed?”

“Over a year now,” Oberyn responded instead.

Jaime shot the man a look. “I believe I asked your wife that question.”

(Y/N) felt nervous in that moment, but managed to make her voice even enough to respond, “We have been wed over a year. We celebrated our anniversary just before we left for King’s Landing, actually.”

“What family are you from, if you do not mind me asking.”

The grip on her waist tightened. (Y/N)’s back straightened as she responded, “Before I married Oberyn, I was a Sand.”

Jaime’s head tilted, but he didn’t look as condescending as his sister. “That...that is the name of the bastard children in Dorne, is it not?”

(Y/N) nodded. She wanted to shy away behind Oberyn, but she knew the only way to beat a Lannister was to hold your pride no matter how much they tried to rip you down. “It is. I am unsure as to who my true parents are. I was delivered to the steps of a religious building and left to be raised by others. I was originally raised by the priest, but eventually they brought me elsewhere for the remainder of my childhood.”

The genuine look of sadness on Jaime’s face shocked both Oberyn and (Y/N). “I am so sorry, my lady. Were you raised by a kind person at least?”

“Well...kind of. I was....I was raised in by the owner of a brothel until I was old enough to work there myself. He gave me the option, luckily enough, but I was raised to think it was the only job I could ever possibly have.” She turned and smiled at Oberyn. “That is how I met my love.”

Oberyn smiled back at her and kissed her cheek. “I was taken by her the moment I saw her. I knew I had to make her mine.”

The memories of the day that (Y/N) first saw Oberyn flooded her mind. She thought he would just be another customer, but by the end of their session she realized he meant the sweet nothings he was whispering in her ear.

“Oh, I guess that is where I recognize you from.”

Oberyn’s head spun so quickly to glare at Jaime. “I am sorry, what did you say?”

The sly look on Jaime’s face was a direct mirror of Cersei’s, and (Y/N) felt her heart drop to her stomach as he spoke. “Your wife, she looked familiar. I could not quite place it, but now I realize it is because I just did not recognize her with her clothes on.”

Oberyn tried to advance on Jaime, but (Y/N) took hold of his arm and held him back. “Don’t, my love, he is not worth it.”

“Yes, Prince Oberyn, I am not worth it. Take it from your wife, she would know.”

Oberyn’s face turned blood red and (Y/N) had to physically pull him away before he could strangle Jaime. The Kingslayer was still calling profanities to try and rile Oberyn up.

(Y/N) took him back into the palace, cupping his face to make him look at her. “Oberyn, my love, calm down please.”

“Fucking Lannisters,” he hissed. “They think they can get away with everything! They think they can insult my wife like that.”

“Oberyn,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice softer this time. He looked at her and his face also softened. Oberyn loved the way she could always make him calm down so quickly. “It is nothing I have not heard before.”

“But coming from his mouth...” Oberyn said, his eyes darting to where they had left Jaime for just a moment.

“Means nothing,” (Y/N) finished. “He can try to degrade me all he wants, but at the end of the day I am still the whore that married a prince. I was chosen to be brought into this life, unlike them who were brought into it at birth, and I still have more class than that whole family combined.”

Oberyn smiled at his wife and kissed her passionately. “I love you more than anything.”

“And I love you more than the world, my love.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom