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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

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Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be all yours shortly.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their hands on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 List

Welcome to my first ever kinktober, a month long of smutty drabbles and one shots. Hope you all enjoy and if you want added to a charecter/fandom tag list so you dont miss anything let me know <3

NSFW under cut

Masterlist Here

Day one: discrete fun with Robb Stark – deciding to take his teasing to a new level Robb decides to take the sex toys out of the bedroom

Day two: marking with Jace Velaryon – jealous is an understatement for what Jace is feeling so he decides to fix his problems by showing everyone who you belong to

Day three: phone sex with Jamie Tartt – even though he loved to play the long nights away from you were almost impossible to bare so he often found himself hitting call at late hours of the night

Day four: body worship with Podrick Payne – Podrick feels honoured just to be able to touch your body and wants you to hear his praises

Day five: role reversal with James Potter – James is used to being in charge, but things change when one night you decide to give him a taste of his own teasing medicine

Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end

Day seven: stepcest/cam girl au with Daemon Targaryen – after Daemons new stepdaughter moves in daemon finds out her naughty little secret

Day eight: dubcon kidnap au with Ramsay Bolton – Ramsay can’t stand the idea of such a pretty creature going unappreciated any longer

Day nine: edging/orgasm denial with Rhanerya Targaryen – since you’re used to get everything you want Rhaenyra decides to show you good things come to those who wait

Day ten: throne/semi public sex with Danerys Targaryen – being the queen is a stressful job and it is your job to help your queen relax even if that means risking getting caught

Day eleven: knife play with Ivar the Boneless – people whisper and wonder how someone so sweet could marry someone so angry, but they don’t see what Ivar does when you’re underneath him

Day twelve: exhibitionism with Tormund – while wildlings talk freely about sex Tormund enjoys watching your blush at even the mention of it making it even more fun to tease you when you come to tend to his wounds

Day thirteen: primal play with Remus Lupin – usually when Remus runs around the forest its not by choice but tonight, he is chasing his favourite prey

Day fourteen: sex toys and teasing with Sansa Stark – after finding a sleek pink vibrator in her top drawer you decide to see what it can really do

Day fifteen: voyeurism with Aegon Targaryen – while you are visiting his family Aegon discovers a secret passage and what he accidentally sees through the cracks makes him want you instantly

Day sixteen: caught in the act with Roy Kent – when Roy came home all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you but when he heard a buzzing from under the sheets his plans took a very different turn

Day seventeen: mommy kink with Cersei Lannister – while she may be rough and callous to most others Cersei finds herself dotting on her sweet girl in her chambers each night

Day eighteen: corruption kink with Alicent Hightower – a new septa arrive at court but none of the thoughts on Alicent’s minds are holy

Day nineteen: choking with Bjorn Ironside – you may have been captured by the enemies, but the punishment Bjorn gives you is starting to feel like a reward

Day twenty: bondage/wax play with Margaery Tyrell: people may whisper about her brother’s bedroom habits but none of them see the things she gets up to with her ladies’ maid

Day twenty-one: face fucking with Cregan Stark: to gain his loyalty Cregan demands that you earn it, and he enjoys watching the tears streak down your face as you do

Day twenty-two: daddy kink with Sirius Black – the word just slipped out one time but now it’s all Sirius wants to hear from your lips

Day twenty-three: brat taming with Sandor Clegane – after growing sick of a princess’s bratty attitude Sandor decides to teach her how to behave

Day twenty-four: thigh riding/dry humping with Ragnar Lothbrok – after taking a Christian girl prisoner he decides to show you the pleasure a heathen can feel

Day twenty-five: breeding kink with Ned Stark – there is a reason why Ned has so many children and it’s not as noble as many assume

Day twenty-six: collaring with Aemond Targaryen – not wanting to share Aemond decides to invest in something to show that you’ll always be his and only his

Day twenty-seven: double penetration with Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent: they both like you and when they came to settle it once and for all neither of them expected this out come

Day twenty-eight: mutual masturbation with Oberyn Martell – you always heard that the dornish were more sex positive than most, but you hadn’t expected Oberyn Martell of all people to show you just how good it could feel

Day twenty-nine: face riding with Heleana Targaryen – while Heleana appeared shy outside of your chambers when you, her maid, came to tend to her at night she was anything but shy

Day thirty: teacher student au with Jamie Lannister – he knew it was wrong to ask you to stay after class but after one too many short, short skirts he could no longer keep his thoughts at bay

Day thirty-one: orgy/group sex with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, Daemon, and Rhaenyra since after all sharing is caring

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wardenparker · 11 months

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The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* A slap! Mentions of menstruation, fleeting mention of a suicidal thought, threats of violence, bathing, so much foreplay, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering (anal), MM coupling, MMF threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f giving and receiving), FF coupling, technically this is an orgy. Summary: Upon receiving news of your arranged betrothal, both you and Prince Oberyn of Dorne make your ways to the Red Keep for King Joffrey’s impending nuptials. However, his arrival to the city is significantly more playful than yours. Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number seven! This summer we are getting hot and heavy in Westeros with everybody’s favourite promiscuous prince. Buckle up, my darlings, because this one gets spicy right off the bat 👑💖

Oberyn frowns slightly as the oil slicked hands of the servant press into the arches and joints of Doran’s feet, making his older brother hiss in pain. It must be a harsh day for him, his wheeled chair a near constant as it is now too painful for him to walk even short distances. A far cry from the hale and hearty brother he had grown up with as the youngest of the Martell princes. He knows the oil is warmed, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the air as it is worked into the skin, hopefully providing some relief. “I can come back, brother. Let you rest.”

“This is important.” Doran insists, not dismissing either man from his presence. His own discomfort is a stark reminder of the sacrifices that must be made for the throne of Dorne. “You know the Baratheon boy is to marry.” The fact that King Joffrey’s mother is a Lannister makes him an unsavory topic between the Martell brothers, even as Marcella Baratheon plays in the water gardens a mere thirty yards away.

Stiffening instantaneously for a moment before he forces his body to relax, Oberyn despised the mention of anything to do with the Lannisters, including that bastard on the throne. Everyone knows the rumors and with the golden mane of the boy and the tales of evils he has done, he’s inclined to believe it. “Gods be praised.” He murmurs sarcastically, reaching for the carafe of wine and the spare goblet that had obviously been left in anticipation of his visit with the elder prince. “What poor girl is marrying that…king?”

“Margaery Tyrell.” The elder prince huffs derisively before leveling his younger brother with a serious gaze. “You are to attend the wedding in my stead.”

Rolling his eyes, Oberyn sighs heavily. It will be two weeks of hard traveling to reach King’s Landing. All for a wedding he does not wish to attend. “I will extend the Martell family’s feelings.”

"You will be gracious and accommodating." Doran warns, knowing that the Martell family's true feelings are not appropriate in any way to be expressed at a wedding. "There will be some other business for you to attend to in King's Landing which is far more important."

“Yes, there is that wonderful brothel down in Flea Bottom.” Oberyn muses, grinning at the idea of bringing Ellaria there. The last time he had come, it had been two years before he had met her.

"Oberyn." His brother's voice has a warning tone to it. "I beg you not to waste your time in brothels on this trip no matter how enjoyable a pastime it may be. There is someone you need to meet."

He snorts and shakes his head. “I have no interest in meeting boring nobles with their equally boring wives.” He tells him. “I’ll be with Ellaria anyway.”

"No, you won't." Doran jerks away from his servant in frustration and turns to fully face Oberyn. "I will not have that woman jeopardize the contract I have signed when the ink is barely dry. Leave her home, Oberyn. She will be here with open legs when you return."

Oberyn’s brow arches up dramatically. Doran has never had issue with Ellaria, even counting her as a confidant in his absence. She is the mother of four of his children and a member of the family despite there being no vows between them. His soulmate. “What contract?” He growls.

"Leave." He hisses at the young man who was tending to him and he backs off immediately, taking the pot of oil back into the interior of the palace as fast as his feet can carry him. "It was time, Oberyn," he intones seriously. "Far past time, but I have let you have your freedom as long as I was able."

“Let me have my freedom?” His hackles rise and his eyes narrow. “I have my freedom because I wish it.” He reminds his brother. “I am not the head of the Martells like you, and you have your heir.”

"I have one heir." Doran bristles, but the raised tension between the brothers is his own fault. A product of the tension and pain he was already feeling today. "If anything should happen to Trystane, it will be you on the throne. And though I have great love for my nieces, none of them can be a princess."

“Our house will endure like it always has.” Oberyn snorts, dismissing Doran’s concern. “If the time comes, I will marry Ellaria and claim my Sand Snakes as legitimate.” He takes a long sip of his wine, humming at the delightfully floral note.

"The chance for that has passed." It is Doran's turn to be dismissive, sitting back again in his wheeled chair and adjusting a cushion under his arm. "Your objections to marriage have been noted, brother, but it is time to make a respectable husband of you. Ellaria will understand. She is an intelligent woman, and I'm sure would not abandon you as your mistress." Oberyn prefers the term paramour, and though it is accurate now, it will be more complicated once things are settled.

“Brother, what have you done?” Oberyn demands, slamming his goblet down onto the table.

"You know exactly what I have done." There is no chance, in his mind, that Oberyn has not deduced that a marriage contract has been signed, but Doran still sighs heavily. "She is the only daughter of a noble family. The father let her go without a match for some time while her brothers all married, but her portrait is beautiful and he assures me that she is accomplished." Reaching for the wine glass that Oberyn has rejected, Doran takes a gulp rather than a sip. "And she has no marks, blessedly."

“The agreement was my soulmate or no one.” Oberyn hisses, his gaze turning withering. “I will not marry some cow faced northerner.”

"Every place is northern to Dorne," Doran waves one hand dismissively and sets the wine glass back down on the table between them. "The contract is signed, Oberyn. You will not make a liar or a fool of your brother by denying it, and I am not going to try to force you to spend time with the girl or even like her. But you will marry her and produce a legitimate heir." The contract is full of terms to be adhered to, and the fairly enormous size of the girl's dowry includes access to trade routes that will greatly benefit the people of Dorne. There is no downside to this arrangement in Doran's mind, aside from having to have this discussion with his brother.

Oberyn’s lips press together in a firm line and his chair scrapes back as he stands. “Then you fuck the girl.” He hisses. “For I will not be gracing her bed.” Turning on his heel, the prince storms away before he loses his infamous temper.

Doran breathes a sigh, reaching for the goblet again to drown his frustrations in the wine that his maester has instructed him to avoid when he is in pain. "Fuck it," he grumbles harshly. Oberyn is going to make his life a living hell anyway, he may as well be drunk for it.

******

“Marriage!” Oberyn scoffs angrily, pacing in front of the lounge where his paramour is currently sprawled. “As if I am some fresh-faced maiden. How dare he sign a contract on my behalf!”

"I smell Mellario behind it," Ellaria admits, watching him pace back and forth like a caged beast. Oberyn had come careening back into his chamber like a sandstorm and now he was seething. "Doran has never had issue with your arrangement before now, and suddenly he is concerned about heirs? I would not be surprised if her change has come."

“Or he cannot get his cock to rise.” Oberyn winces at the idea of his own cock not working, but with his brother’s declining health, he would not rule it out. “I will not do it.” He decides. “We will leave for Braavos if he decides to push the issue.”

"My love," Ellaria sits up, shaking her head. "If you leave here, I would follow. You know this. But you would still have four daughters you would not be able to see and we both know that would break your heart." His children are the most important thing in the world to Oberyn – everyone knows this – and Doran would certainly use them as a punishment for insubordination. "Exile is no choice, Oberyn. Even self-imposed."

Pausing mid-stride, his robes swish around his legs as he turns to stare at the woman who had been with him and by his side for nearly twenty years. “You would have me entertain this idea?” He demands, surprised she would consider this.

“I would not have you be less of a man than you are.” For all her complexities, Ellaria Sand is not the temptress or the snake that some make her out to be. Her genuine love for Oberyn is rooted in as much respect as it is passion, and their four daughters currently have a father that they can look up to as a good and wise man. “What is the worst this girl could be?” She poses the question carefully as he shifts his weight anxiously in front of her, and she folds her hands in her lap. “Ugly? That is not her fault. The sun and good company can make anyone more beautiful. Cruel? Doran has already said you do not have to spend much time with her. Or perhaps childish? Spoiled? Then you treat her like a child and send her to her chamber without a treat if she misbehaves.” There is anger in his face, which Ellaria hates to see, but she tries to be encouraging. Motherhood has taught her that encouragement can be a balm on almost any wound. “So you would be married. What does that signify? Nothing in so far as you and I are concerned. You are still my soulmate, my love. And the father of my children. She cannot change that.”

“You are my sun.” Oberyn reaches down and takes his lover’s hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her against his body, his broad hand covers the small scar on her side, a knife wound that he had earned in the fighting pits. “My world.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, trying to rid himself of the idea of tying himself to another. Ellaria is his soulmate, which is why he had said that he would only marry the woman who bears his marks.

"And no one will ever change that." She vows just as solemnly, giving herself over to the kiss without restraint. There are parts of his world that she does not stray into, or they would have fought with Doran for the right to marry years ago. The elder Martell brother may not mind her as Prince Oberyn's paramour, but she is not what he would envision for a princess of Dorne, nor does Ellaria particularly want such a title. For Oberyn she might have borne the duty of it all, but he never asked that of her and she was grateful. Now, whoever this girl is that is being thrust into their life will bear that burden instead. Ellaria does not envy her the responsibility.

******

“My love, you must calm yourself.” Within the walls of your chambers, Raeden Stone knows that the two of you are safe. Your maid will not interrupt unless necessary and she is sworn to protect your happiness and well-being above everything else, including your parents. “Stop.” Striding across the room, the sword at his side clanks as he grabs your hands filled with dresses, and takes them from you. “We cannot flee under the cover of darkness like we are thieves escaping the sword.” He knows that if he is caught, he will be killed or sent to the Wall as well.

"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"

“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours. His heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride into all seven hells if need be to stay beside you.”

"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.

“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”

"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you. "Three brothers married wealthy wives and yet I am the sacrificial lamb to be offered up to the lecherous second prince of Dorne." The stories of the man's temperament and deeds preceded him, of course. Lusty and vengeful, the second son of House Martell was to be feared never spoken of above a whisper in polite company. And now you have to marry him?

“I have heard he is handsome.” Despite his own heart aching at the thought of another touching you, he has to make this seem like a good thing. “They say he will treat any in his bed respectfully.”

"He could be the most handsome man in all of Dorne and he would still not be as handsome as you." Soulful eyes the color of chestnut shells, plush lips, and a perpetually mischievous smile when he’s pleased, there is no one more handsome than Ser Raeden Stone. Firm muscles and an impressive strength make him as formidable on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom - a fact which you have kept mum about for years now. Raeden's broad frame and towering height envelope you fully when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest to muffle a sob. "I will never lay with him. Or love him. Not as long as I live."

“You will be his wife.” He swallows as he says those words. “You will bear his children, love or not. And I will protect you.” It will be his own special kind of hell, watching you grow with a child that is not his, marry a man who is not him. “You must not tell him, love.”

"How can you be so calm?" You demand, looking up at him with fear and hurt swimming in your eyes. "My father is sentencing me to stand at the side of another man and you...my love, I cannot believe you are accepting of this?"

“I have no choice but to accept it.” His voice hardens slightly. “If we try to run away together, we will be caught. I will be killed or sent to the Wall.” It rankles, but he had known that one day you would be married off. “I cannot protect you if I am dead or taken the oath.” He growls, shaking his head and leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I cannot risk leaving you alone.”

"Only cruel gods would have given us to each other as soulmates without ever intending to allow our love." It is an unfairness of life that you have lamented more than once, but right now it feels as though a dagger has been plunged through your heart and twisted violently.

“The gods know of our love.” Raeden knows it, sighing softly. “We are together and we will still be together.” He kisses you softly. “I spend more nights in your bed than my own. It will be the same in Dorne.”

"I will not allow it to be any other way." Despite the fear of the unknown, the thing that you can cling to is the strength of your feelings for Raeden Stone. Since the day he arrived rather triumphantly in your life, he has been a constant and welcome presence and you will not allow any power to steal your soulmate from your side. "No prince from Dorne will ever keep you from my arms."

“There is my girl.” Raeden smiles, happy that you are calm again and he presses closer to you. “Now…do you wish that I take your mind off your worries?” He coos softly.

“I always wish for you.” Though time is precious now, as you leave for King’s Landing in just three days and the road is no place for a romantic interlude. Raeden will not even be allowed to ride in your carriage during the journey. His place as your guard demands that he protect you, not indulge in you. Although he is fully capable of doing both.

The grin that you have said melts you flashes across his face and he pulls back so he can remove his belt and sword. “Then let me make you forget about Dorne, forget about marriage and only think of me.”

******

The painstaking journey feels ludicrous, and your weary mother certainly has not made it any easier with her complaining. The decision for your parents to accompany you was entirely your father’s and even then it was only so that he could brag to his small group of friends that he attended the king’s wedding. If this were only about delivering you to your groom, he would have sent you with your guard and your maid and thought no further on it. As it is, you have spent every day sitting beside your mother’s lady’s maid in the cramped and uncomfortable carriage praying that you might get even ten minutes alone with Raeden before the end of the day. It has hardly happened, and you have found yourself near tears rather constantly. Ignorant man that your father is, he imagines you so delirious with joy that you are weeping for your good fortune. The truth could not be further away.

“Do not fret.” Your mother assures you softly. “We have long had daughters marry in Dorne or Dornish brides sent to us.” She reminds you. “While most will look their noses down at a Dornish man, we know he will treat you well.”

“I still do not see why this marriage is even necessary.” And since no one has offered you any sort of explanation, you’re inclined to just ask. “My brothers married wealthy women. We do not need the favour of House Martell. So I am forced to wonder again why I am being offered to them in sacrifice.”

“Change is coming to Westeros.” Your mother leans in, her words quiet and fervent. “Dorne is the last kingdom that still has royalty. You will not just be a lady, you will a princess.”

"I do not want to be a princess." You inform her flatly, ignoring the way her lady's laid looks aghast at your ingratitude. "My own maid had more freedom than I do. At least someone asked her if she wanted to be shipped south like chattel. And she was even able to say no!" Though Clarey had served you since you came of age, your own maid had been able to marry her soulmate and had recently discovered she was with child. Your father had considered himself quite magnanimous for not breaking up that family to send her to Dorne with you.

“You would have your father break his contract with Dorne?” Your mother asks, appalled at the mere idea. “You were born into a noble house. You have grown up knowing your father would arrange a marriage for you. Most are married at seventeen.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment that you are forever ungrateful for the time your father had allowed you to remain unwed. If you only knew the rumors that had swirled.

"If you always planned to marry me against my will then I wonder that you waited so long." Staring out of the carriage window, you can see Raeden up ahead, face drawn in concentration as he keeps constant vigilance over the route you are traveling. "Why not have signed me away to the Starks when I was born?" The bitterness in your voice is obvious. "Then I would have been a queen."

“You will watch your sharp tongue, or you shall be sent to your room without dinner.” Your mother hisses, sitting back and shaking her head. “Your father wanted to hold out hope for a soulmate.”

"I am not a child, as you so love to point out when it is convenient to you." The threat of no dinner is nothing when you have no appetite to begin with. It would be a blessing not to be stared at over a meager meal. "And you can hardly send me to my room when I haven't one. We will not even arrive in King's Landing before first light tomorrow."

Your mother’s hand strikes out, slapping your cheek with a sharp crack. “You will not shame your father and house.” She hisses. “I have long begged your father to marry you off, to stop giving into your childish notions, but no more. You will marry Oberyn Martell.”

If the impulse to cup your own cheek was present, you don’t give in to it, not wanting to show the satisfaction of acknowledging that she has caused you pain of any kind. At the moment all you can really think is that it is good Raeden did not witness your mother striking you, or he may have given himself away with his reaction. “At least in Dorne I will never again be forced to breathe the same odious air you have exhaled.” No one in all of Westeros could ever have mistaken your mother for your ally if they saw you interact in private – it is only her sickly sweet countenance in public that made others think that she had babied or favoured you in any way. More than once in your life you’ve wondered how such a hateful woman could even grow a babe let alone birth four of them.

“You will learn your place soon enough.” She promises you. “You are a woman, not a man.” Her disappointment in you pours off of her in waves. “Be thankful your father did not choose a fat, aging lord.”

“Fat and aging means he would die faster.” At least antagonizing your mother is passing the time, you decide, staring straight ahead at the pompous boil of a woman who has lorded herself over you for the last twenty-five years. “I think I would do very well as a widow.”

“I wonder if your bravery would falter learning that your guard will not be staying with you.” The sly, evil menace in your mother’s voice is clear.

“Of course he will.” Brazen confidence is the tone which drowns out your panicked fear, and you tell yourself not to look outside and give yourself away. That could ruin everything in less than one heartbeat. “He swore to Father to protect me and Father accepted.” If something had changed, surely Raeden would have told you.

“Hmmmm.” Her smile is acidic, her fingers twisting around her handkerchief. “You think you are soooo clever. That I did not know.”

“Honestly?” Honestly you really did not think for a second that anyone besides your former maid knew anything, but you swallow down the boiling acid in your throat and keep your chin poised to stare your own mother down. “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”

“I birthed you.” She snorts, a very unladylike sound. “You think I do not know when my daughter had decided to spread her legs and become a Stone’s whore?”

Of course the thing that bothers her most is that Raeden is a bastard – Stone, as they are named in the Vale – and not an actual concern of safety or care. “I can assure you, that is not the case.” Though saying it would be a waste of breath, nothing you have done with Raeden could mark you as a whore. Just a woman very much in love with her soulmate.

“At least you just bled.” She scoffs. “Not carrying a bastard in your belly.” She leans in, her eyes flashing with malice. “Behave. Or I will allow your father into my bed for the night and he will do as I say. Including making sure your precious Raeden rides home to the Vale with his lord, your father.” She threatens.

Though you have serious doubts that your mother’s cunt is magical enough to control your father’s thoughts, it isn’t a chance you’re willing to take. If Raeden is ordered to return to the Vale and you are forced to ride for Dorne without him, you are more likely to see the bottom of the seas than your marriage bed. “My Lord Father loves me and wishes to protect me,” is all you say in response.

“Your Lord Father will do what makes me happy.” She promises you with a self-assured smirk. “Especially now that I have convinced him to marry you off.”

“It was you?” You should not be so shocked. Her hatred for you has been obvious from the time you were a child and had never seemed to waver. Your father, on the other hand? Doting and indulgent, always picking flowers for you and bringing you books instead of suitors. Your brothers are strong men with discipline instilled in them. You had been allowed to read and dream and sing and ride at your leisure. Of course his sudden change of heart was down to your bitter, angry mother.

“Who else?” She sneers. “Your father would be content to keep you around until you are nothing but a spinster. You are already past your prime. Luckily enough, the Prince of Dorne already has eight bastards.”

The way her utter dismissal of you makes your blood boil is beyond explanation, but as you squeeze your hands together in the pockets of your robe, only one precious thought floats to the surface. “My only solace is that if I should ever see you again after this week, Mother, you shall have to curtsy to the person you despise most in the world.”

“I will not.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I will never bow to a little whore like you.”

“Oh, but you will.” A victory, even a small one, is enough to grasp at as you square your shoulders again. “When I am Princess of Dorne it will be required of everyone save King Joffrey himself. You included.”

“Bitch.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb.”

“A regret you will live with forever.” If Knocking her from her wicked confidence is the best you can do in this conversation, you will not take that for granted, for your mother has always been a formidable enemy. “Now leave me to read, Mother. Lest you earn yourself another wrinkle and find your hair a shade greater than it was when we left home.”

“I will be overjoyed to not see your face every day.” She spits, hating that you don’t seem cowed by her threats. “Dorne will be eye opening for you. And everything you deserve:”

“As you say, Mother.” Without another word, you take the small book of histories from your reticule and open it to the place where you left off last night, too distracted by Raeden’s handsome face to give any more thought to words. False confidence is a thing you learned very well in the face of your mother’s vitriol, and apparently on this one occasion it has actually yielded a victory. You may still be terrified of your future in Dorne, but she never needs to know that.

******

“This city still smells like shit.” Two weeks of travel has left Oberyn irritable, grumbling as he pulls his horse up to the gates of the city. “Let us go find comfort and a bath.” He tells Ellaria, unable to stay in the carriage and deciding to ride ahead of the contingent of troops Doran had sent with him.

“At the brothel, my love?” She smirks at the suggestion, far less uncomfortable from travel than he is. “A bath, fresh food, and a good fuck will restore your mood.”

“Of course.” Oberyn scoffs. “I will not accept chambers in that keep.” He hates even being here and seeing it. Wanting to burn it down, considering his sister, niece and nephew died in that keep.

“Nor should you.” As a prince he should have the most resplendent rooms available, but they both know what would happen if Oberyn ever set foot in the Red Keep beyond the wedding in two days. “We will visit this Littlefinger you have spoken of?”

“I had sent word that we were arriving.” He chuckles, smirking at Ellaria because she knows him so well. “Tell me you don’t want a hot bath and an even hotter cunt?”

“If I am honest, I am ravenous for a cunt to bury my tongue in.” There is never any judgment between them, or jealousy, and Ellaria sighs indulgently at the idea of a slick cunt and perky tits to indulge in. “Will you share with me, lover?”

“Always.” Oberyn waggles his brows. “We will pick out a whore together.”

“A favorite pastime.” Ellaria laughs softly. She has not spoken a word about Oberyn’s intended bride since they left Dorne and she won’t until it’s necessary. His mood is volatile here in the northern capital and she does not relish his moments of anger.

“Silk sheets.” Oberyn groans, not willing to admit that he is weary of travel, but he needs to recover. Especially if he is to be meeting this bride. He had decided that the poor girl deserves to be told in person that he will have nothing to do with her.

“Silk sheets. Roasted meats. Wine. Berries and nuts fresh from their trees.” She giggles when his hand slips inside her dress to caress her skin. “And a pert ass for you to bury yourself in.”

“We could get two. A man and a woman.” He reasons, smirking at the idea. “Perhaps we will have Littlefinger line them all up for us to choose from.”

“As many as you like, my love.” After all, it is not as if the coffers of Dorne lack for funds. They have brought a fortune with them under Doran’s insistence that Oberyn shower his intended with gifts – and a second fortune to pay for the bills his natural extravagance will no doubt incur. “We will have whatever you desire. And when you have had your fill we will rest and then begin all over again.”

“Wine.” Oberyn decides, frowning despite thinking of nicer things as the two of them enter the walls of King’s Landing. “I will need a lot of wine.”

Their destination is not far, but the duo of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand attract attention by virtue of their combined beauty and the onlookers who cluster to gaze at them make their journey last longer. Oberyn sends their driver off with the carriage to find stables nearby and Ellaria wraps her arms around him when he returns to her side in the steps of the building. “Do you hear the false moans, my prince?” She pouts in sympathy for the unsatisfied women inside as they cross the threshold together. “We will make them scream so they never forget us.”

Oberyn smirks, holding her hand with no shame. He does not hide Ellaria, she is his paramour. Much more than that, although that is something that is kept between the two of them, private at her insistence so she does not become a liability to him. “We will, my love. Every whore in this brothel will pout when you leave.”

“Very pretty pouts, I hope.” Ellaria loves a very pretty pout when the time is right. To be begged to come back to bed. To have a lover cry her name with such passion that their heart aches for more. She saunters into the brothel beside Oberyn with her head high and looks around as the prettily dressed woman at the entrance fawns over Oberyn. Everyone fawns over Oberyn, that is of little interest to her.

Oberyn eyes the cunts and tits on display, lifting a brow when he sees earrings through one woman’s nipples. “I see we are in the right place.” He smirks, watching as Littlefinger rushes over to the pair.

“Prince Oberyn.” Though he does not ever bow deeply, he does bow, eyes tracking over to Ellaria with an oily smile. “My lady. What an honour to be graced with your presence. What can we provide for you this morning?”

“My lady?” Ellaria scoffs, making Oberyn smirk and squeeze her hand. “We will be needing accommodations for the duration of our stay in King’s Landing.” Most brothels do not rent rooms and he is sure that Littlefinger’s establishment is no different but Oberyn has learned that his title and the gold of his coin makes things possible when they previously weren’t. “For now, until it is ready, we need baths and whores to join us.”

“The duration of your stay?” The man does not bother to hide his surprise, but smiles broadly like the showman that he is. “I will send someone to ready your accommodations,” he promises, hand on heart. “Our baths are this way,” Littlefinger motions deeper into the building. “Do you have a preference for who should join you or shall I send you a variety to choose from?” There is enough gold dripping from the Prince of Dorne that Littlefinger will unfold the world of pleasure at his feet if that is what he wishes, without worry for his ability to pay what is owed.

“Your choicest men and women.” Oberyn looks over to Ellaria for her approval. “Clean.” He insists, although Littlefinger’s whores are always of a higher caliber than most. “We will send the others away once we have chosen.”

“Leyth.” Littlefinger waves to a tall, buxom girl with orange curls down to her waist. “Tend to the prince and his lady for me,” he instructs her, obviously trusting that she can do the job. “Anything they need, you will acquire for as long as they are here, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The girl called Leyth nods and smooths her thin skirt, looking between the beautiful prince and his stunning lady. “I will be happy to serve them.”

“Good.” The chuckle that bubbles out of Littlefinger is full of approval. “Take them to the baths and then fetch them food and wine.” He smiles at Oberyn, a thing dripping with false charm. “I will send you a selection of company to choose from.”

“Berries.” Oberyn adds, the need for fresh fruit after weeks on the road is great. Ellaria chuckles, well aware of his fondness for snacking, especially when he is fucking.

“Berries.” Leyth bats her eyelashes prettily as she leads the pair down the hall. “Do you prefer sweet things, your Grace?”

“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t answer one way or the other, although his gaze is sliding up and down her form and he reaches out to caress her ass through the sheer robe she is wearing.

She hums right back at him, playful but bidding, and slows her pace slightly to let him touch as they turn the corner to the bathing room. The deep bath in the floor sits full and waiting for paying customers, beautifully tiled with trays of soap and sponges for gently scrubbing skin. The oiled waters smell of flower petals, and two baths are even littered with the things. Leyth walks toward the bath of floral water with a sultry smile and a swing in her hips. “I will wash you with my own hands if that is your wish, after I fetch you food to break your fast.”

“What do you say my love?” Oberyn asks Ellaria. “Leyth and whoever catches our eyes?” He would love to see his paramour’s thighs spread for the orange haired beauty. “Or would you prefer to choose the woman?”

“You are lovely, Leyth.” Ellaria praises, already having decided that she likes this woman’s spirit as well as her figure. “We will see who else catches our eye when they arrive.”

“Show me your tits.” Oberyn commands the woman. Eager to see if they are as perky as they seem or if it is an illusion of the gown she is wearing.

Obedience is necessary to work for Littlefinger, but Leyth is lucky to have been given to this couple she finds so attractive. She slips the ties from her shoulders and lets her silken dress fall to the stone floor with pride. Her body is well worth selling and has given her a good living, so she proudly bares her large tits and curved waist to this prince when he demands it.

“Very nice.” Oberyn groans with a smirk. “They will look lovely bouncing when you ride my cock.” He predicts. “We can undress ourselves.” He promises, turning to Ellaria and pushing aside her own gown so he can cup her bare breast, tweaking an already hard nipple.

Ellaria moans happily when the girl excuses herself to fetch their food, and drops the traveling robe she was wearing to the ground immediately. “Lover…” she sighs, her body arching to seek Oberyn’s touch instinctively. “You were right about this place.”

“Of course I am right.” He teases playfully, leaning in and dragging his nose along her throat. “Now, we need to wash so we can be ready to play when the whores are brought in. I want to feed you fruit while a tongue is buried in your cunt.”

“Leyth is a beauty.” Ellaria disrobes easily and quickly, leaving her things scattered as she steps into the bath built deep into the floor. It is warm and smells sweet, like summer in the Water Gardens. “Pale, but I like her freckles.” She looks up at Oberyn with admiration as he shrugs off his own robes. “I like your freckles better, though.” Especially the one on the inside of his right thigh, high on his muscled leg where she can kiss it before swallowing his cock.

“Just like her tits are gorgeous, but yours have suckled four of my children.” His cock twitches and he kicks off his boots, throwing the loose, pale yellow shirt off and reaching for his leather breeches.

“Hers are bigger than mine.” Ellaria chuckles at the way he loves tits. “Enjoy them, lover. I know I shall.”

“You always do.” He chuckles, thanking the gods that his soulmate is just as adventurous as he is. “Maybe she will be the only one we choose for now.”

“Perhaps.” Sighing as she lays back in the water, Ellaria tilts her head and soaks her hair, enjoying the way she feels cleaner already. “Perhaps we will develop a taste for sun-red hair while we are here.”

“Whatever we develop a taste for, we will indulge in.” Oberyn does not mind sharing her, doesn’t get jealous because she is his sun and world. No one could break their bond.

“Come to me, lover.” She beckons him with both hands, pouting for him prettily. Now that travel is behind them, Oberyn is already cheerier and it lightens her heart. “Soak with me. It has been weeks since we had a bath.”

“With pleasure.” Stripped down, Oberyn strides over to the bath and starts to descend the stairs to join her in the deep tub.

Ellaria moves to him immediately, arms welcoming him home and lips finding his with a deeply satisfied moan. Her legs are around his waist as quickly as his hands find her ass, and his growing cock twitches against her soft skin.

Oberyn turns around, letting his paramour cling to him as he drops down onto the seat under the water. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly against his lips.

“As I love you.” Since the day they first spoke the words to each other they have not wavered, and Ellaria runs her hands across Oberyn’s skin reverently. “My warrior.”

“My sun.” Oberyn squeezes her ass and rocks her onto his hardening cock. “My world.” The passion between the pair has not wavered over the years, growing stronger in a way that could only be because of their soulmate bond.

“Oberyn.” No matter how many times she takes him, the stretch of his cock inside her takes her breath away. Her hands find his shoulders to cling to him as they find their pace, with his grip guiding her as she begins to bounce on his length in earnest.

“Too soon, my love?” He teases, knowing she is far more than adequately wet. She is dripping.

“Never.” She shakes her head before throwing it back, letting her moan ring out through the echoey chamber. “Never. I am always yours.”

Multi-tasking is a gift that Oberyn has. Results of a wandering spirit and a restless mind. It was one of the reasons he had joined the maesters and eventually left after forging eight links. He reaches for the perfumed soap and a rag to wash his lover.

They are fully enraptured with each other when Leyth returns, and she sets the tray down beside them before seeing about pouring two goblets of wine. It’s rare to have pairs of lovers visit the establishment but not unheard of, and she smiles indulgently, watching the passion they share for a moment before making herself known. “I can do that for you, your Grace,” she offers, knowing her employer will be upset if she neglects them.

Even with Ellaria impaled on his cock, Oberyn tears his mouth away from her lips and looks over at the woman. “Join us and bring the wine.” He orders. “Are the others coming?”

“They are right here.” Leyth slips into the water easily, taking the sponge from him and resumes the work of bathing his lady without missing a beat. Four women and two men all of varying ages and looks pour into the room behind her clad in next to nothing looking apprehensive.

“Do not be shy.” Oberyn turns Ellaria’s head and groans when she clenches down around him. “Any who wish to not join us may leave now.” He does not want someone who is timid.

The most tired looking of the women takes the youngest girl by the hand and leads her from the room with a respectful nod of her head, and one of the men bows before stepping out behind them. "Leaving us with five supple bodies to learn," Ellaria groans appreciatively. Between Oberyn's cock and Leyth's hands massaging her back as she washes her, this is surely already one of the seven heavens. One of the girls is the first to step forward, beautiful dark skin on display and bright eyes full of mischief as she easily discards her meager dress and slips into the water right away. She has heard legends of the second prince of Dorne and intends to find out for herself if they are true.

“Eager.” Oberyn chuckles and beckons her forward. “I like that.” His eyes slide past her towards the remaining man, tall and broad. His tawny skin clear and it’s obvious that his cock is starting to harden as he watches. “You—” he motions towards him. “Do you suck cock or like cock in your ass?”

"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.

Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”

Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.

Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.

"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.

When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.

"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."

“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”

The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."

He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.

The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.

Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.

“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.

"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.

The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”

"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."

He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”

Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.

Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”

"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.

“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.

"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."

“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.

“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.

"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.

"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.

Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”

"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.

Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.

Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.

Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.

“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”

Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”

******

The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.

“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.

Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.

“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.

“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”

“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.

Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.

“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”

“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”

“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.

Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.

“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.

“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.

“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”

“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.

Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.

Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #reader x m!OC #male OC #female reader #male original character #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage

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valeskafics · 1 year

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Party in Your Bedroom (Chapter Eight) - Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Cross Over x Cam Girl!Reader

Summary: You do your first stream in a little while...

PAIRINGS: Aegon x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Jace x Reader, Theon x Reader, Robb x Reader, Jon x Reader, Daemon x Reader, Rhaenyra x Reader, Alicent x Reader, Margaery x Reader x Tommen, Bran x Reader x Jojen, Jaime x Reader, Baela x Reader, Helaena x Reader, Cersei x Reader, Ned x Reader, Catelyn x Reader, Harwin x Reader, Robin x Reader

Word Count: 2,006

TW: profanity, innuendo, I don't think camming should be a tw but I guess???, mentions of several kinks, ?, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, female masturbation, male masturbation

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them.

Jace doesn’t really have time to ask you about the teddy bear in your room, considering it’s now 6:30PM and the stream he’s been waiting for all day is about to start. He sighs and stands up, walking over to his desk, always making sure he watches on his computer so he gets the best possible view of his favorite camgirl. He feels kind of stupid for having a crush both on you, one of his best friends, and a camgirl he doesn’t even know.

“Guess I contain multitudes,” he mumbles to himself as he logs onto the stream, seeing that the chat is already going crazy with messages.

Mistahjhasabigd (Jace Velaryon): hey everyone :D

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): Ayyyyy J! What’s up man

Spiderwoman (Helaena Targaryen): Hi J!!!

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): weird as it sounds i missed you bitches

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): pls bc I was thinking the same thing?? I missed you guys lmao

Luvisblind (Aemond Targaryen): I didn’t really miss any of you, truth be told.

Dayoungwolf (Robb Stark): I missed you being an absolute cunt, Luvisblind, not even going to lie

Back in your apartment, you chat with Cregan. He leans against your doorway, looking as fucking gorgeous as ever, and your eyes hardly move from his lips as he speaks.

“Just wanted to say good luck with your stream,” he gives you an easy smile, “I’m sure you’ll be amazing. You always are.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat at his compliment, but not wanting to seem like a total loser, you clear your throat and just give him a bright smile in return, “Thank you, Cregan. That’s really sweet of you. And, um,” you bite your lip, adding after a moment, “I’m excited for our date this weekend.”

Cregan’s smile widens as he responds to you, “Yeah, me too, pretty girl.”

You have to hold back the giggle that threatens to escape from your lips, instead just giving Cregan a sweet smile as you lean up and kiss his cheek before closing the door. Cregan stands there for a minute after you close the door, grinning to himself, before walking back to his apartment, feeling very pleased with himself. He can’t remember the last time he felt this excited for a date, even more so because he knows you’re not going to be the kind of person who shames him for camming, considering you do it yourself.

Back at the Targaryen-Velaryon family’s mansion, Daemon, Alicent, and Rhaenyra struggle to come up with an excuse to get Luke out of the house. The second eldest Velaryon brother sits on his bed, setting up his new account, ready to watch the stream, knowing there’s no possible way he’s going to get booted off this time.

Bigdickenergy69 (Luke Velaryon): hi everyone!!! Here to see bewbz heheheh

Bigdickenergy69 (Luke Velaryon): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Branjoboyz (Bran & Jojen): omg is Penis69_420 back with a new name

Baby_b (Baela Targaryen): it would appear so! Who the fuck else would have that as a username

Luke snickers to himself, thinking he’s gotten away with everything. He prepares to watch the stream, borderline cackling when he receives a DM from the stream’s moderator.

Moderator_HS (Harwin Strong): Hello, this is a randomized age verification. Please submit a form of government ID so that you can be verified as an adult and continue to have access to the stream.

This time? Luke is prepared. He has his dad’s ID that he swiped, knowing that Laenor won’t even notice that it’s gone.

When Harwin gets the verification photo, his eyes go wide in confusion. There is absolutely no way Laenor fucking Velaryon, his ex girlfriend’s ex husband who is the absolute gayest man he’s met in his entire life, is watching your stream. But, unfortunately, he has no way of proving this and so is forced to allow Luke back into the stream.

That is, until Daemon yells out to Luke that it’s his turn to take out the trash.

The poor teenager is on the verge of tears as he trudges down the stairs, cursing his stepfather’s very existence. He just wants to know when he’s going to get a fucking break and be able to watch the fucking stream in peace.

Back at Robb’s dorm, he feels extremely grateful for the fact that Theon is stuck at work and he can lay in bed and watch the stream in peace. He also thinks about the fact that he’s finally going on a date with you tomorrow, the girl he’s had a crush on since middle school. He’s pretty fucking excited about it and nothing in the world can bring him down.

At least, that is, until he realizes that you have absolutely no idea that it is supposed to be a date.

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): USER HAS TIPPED $50

Dayoungwolf (Robb Stark): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Baby_b (Baela Targaryen): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): Pls did we just all tip at once

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): The single brain cell be hard at work rn

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): I’m at work rn and the brain cell isn’t brain celling I fear

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): Yo today was so insane bc y’all remember my innocent friend I have a thing for I told you about

Baby_b (Baela Targaryen): Ya

Disfordaddy (Daemon Targaryen): Yes, slutty, you mention her every chat

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): Lmaoooooo

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): Well like apparently our other friend taught her how to kiss today and NO ONE FUCKIN BELIEVES ME WHEN I TELL THEM

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): You sound just like my best friend lmao who is also a dirty liar homes

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): I taught my innocent friend how to kiss today 🤭

Freeallthenipples (Robin Arryn): YOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sluttyrichboi (Aegon Targaryen): WHADDAAAP

Freeallthenipples (Robin Arryn): Guess who’s going to school with their high school crush now 👹

Dayoungwolf (Robb Stark): Damn good for you!

Desperatehousewivesirl (Cersei Lannister): Evening everyone. Guess whose husband is out drunk and fucking some random woman 😼

Letmegiveyoumylittlefinger (Petyr Baelish): Desperate, you should just get your own sneaky link and call it even

Defaultuser123 (Alicent Hightower): Or wait for the husband to die, hook up with your childhood friend who happens to be his daughter, and get into a throuple with her and her husband…

Desperatehousewivesirl (Cersei Lannister): Girl what….

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): that is so slay of you not even gonna lie

You choose this moment to make your presence known to the chat, turning on your camera and waving to everyone, as always, making sure your face is out of view. You wear your sapphire choker, a fact that Aemond notices immediately.

Luvisblind (Aemond Targaryen): USER HAS TIPPED $300

“Hi, everyone,” you smile, “I’m back. How’s everyone feeling tonight?”

Your eyes go wide as you’re flooded with a barrage of messages, asking if your bruise has healed, how you’re feeling, how your midterms are going. You’re overwhelmed by how nice everyone is being and try to respond to as many of their questions as possible before asking if anyone has any special requests for tonight’s stream.

Luvisblind (Aemond Targaryen): USER HAS TIPPED $200

Luvisblind (Aemond Targaryen): Daddy kink, please.

You don’t think you should even bother to be surprised when Disfordaddy seconds Luvisblind’s request.

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): Not for this stream BUT for your Halloween stream… Would love to see some roleplay with you as a salt wife, gorgeous

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): USER HAS TIPPED $300

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): OH DAMN NOW WE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): omg are you from the isles too???

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): YES

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): OMGGGGGGG

Queenofpegging (Rhaenyra Targaryen): Love the set you’re wearing, beautiful. Mind taking that robe off and showing us what’s underneath it?

You grin to yourself at the request. Queenofpegging is the one who sent you the extravagant set that you’re currently wearing, complete with a bustier that shows off the top of your breasts. You slowly shed your robe and show off the new outfit.

And of course, everyone goes wild in the chat.

Onehandisallineed (Jaime Lannister): USER HAS TIPPED $100

Letmegiveyoumylittlefinger (Petyr Baelish): USER HAS TIPPED $150

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): USER HAS TIPPED $50

Krakeninmypants (Theon Greyjoy): I HATE BEING POOR

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): USER HAS TIPPED $500

Saltybadbitch (Yara Greyjoy): Sucks to be you lol

“So, I got myself something new that I was hoping to try out for you guys,” you hold out a shopping bag and pull out your new vibrator from inside it, grinning at the camera cheekily, “Do you guys wanna see me use this?”

Bidisaster (Margaery Tyrell): YES PLEASE I HAVE THAT ONE IT WORKS SO GOOD

Freeallthenipples (Robin Arryn): YES

Freeallthenipples (Robin Arryn): USER HAS TIPPED $200

You grin and move to lay back, turning the vibrator on and letting the tiny pink device work its magic. It’s the one that you’ve seen going viral on Twitter, and per a suggestion from Dany, you made an investment into your stream and ordered one online.

Needless to say it was pretty fucking embarrassing when Podrick fucking Payne was the deliveryperson who handed you the box. You remember nearly slamming the door in his face in your hurry to grab the package and get the fuck away.

As the vibrator begins working, you let out a soft moan, which definitely earns you a lot of attention from your subscribers as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure that you’re currently experiencing.

Chainsnwhipsexciteme (Ramsay Bolton): USER HAS TIPPED $500

Chainsnwhipsexciteme (Ramsay Bolton): Fuck yeah, baby, let us see you all fucked out

Back in his dorm, Aegon strokes his cock to the sight of you throwing your head back in the thtroes of pleasure, wanting nothing more than to be the source of it. He thinks about what he learned about, not his favorite camgirl, but about you, his friend, earlier today. The fact that you actually made out with Margaery. And he can’t fucking get that image out of his head. He does wonder, however, about the date you’re going on that Margaery texted him about.

Who exactly are you going out with?

In his own dorm, Aemond watches the stream, eyes transfixed on your necklace, how it rests on your cleavage, just above that bustier. Then his mind wanders to you. What in the world did Cregan Stark have to talk to you about? As far as he knows, the two of you aren’t even friends. You don’t know each other. Hell, he doesn’t think the two of you have ever even met before now. And then Cregan mentioned you going to work. Your mysterious job that you seem never to want to tell anyone about.

Aemond listens to his favorite camgirl moan, realizing offhand as she speaks that she actually sounds quite a bit like you. But that’s impossible. You’re way too inexperienced to ever do anything like this. Too shy. There’s absolutely no chance in hell that it’s you.

Jon, on the other hand, has a bit of a crisis while watching your stream. Now that he knows it’s you, his childhood friend, on the other end of the camera, he feels almost guilty for getting off to the thought of you. And the idea of your upcoming collab together has him feeling more nervous than he’s ever felt in his entire life. His stomach is in knots as he watches you, wondering how he never realized that you were the camgirl all along. He sends you a few tips and emojis but tries to stay out of the chat, completely terrified that he may unknowingly say something that gives away your identity.

Branjoboyz (Bran & Jojen): Wow, that bruise on your shoulder looks pretty bad! My friend fell off a pottery wheel recently and has a bruise like that. Hope it heals up for you soon :) - B

Jojen slaps Bran across the backside of the head, “YOU FUCKING TWAT!”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #robb stark x reader #theon greyjoy x reader #hotd x reader #game of thrones x reader #modern hotd #modern got #party in your bedroom fic #piyb fic #cam girl au hotd #my writing

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esther-dot · 4 months

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MODERN AUs

tis the damn season 5k by @wildflower-daydreamer

Every year, Sansa comes back to her small hometown of Winterfell for Christmas. And each year, she and Jon fall into their old routine for her short stay. This year would be no different. Okay, maybe a little different. Inspired by the song 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. corresponding gif

Mistletoe Merriment 4k by @geekprincess26

Theon Greyjoy loves kissing pretty girls, so naturally he loves breaking out the mistletoe and spiked punch every year at the Starks' annual Christmas party. And every year, the girl he kissed the prior year shows up with an awesome new boyfriend - every girl except for Sansa Stark, who ends up with slimy, pathetic gits. Theon will have to go to ridiculous lengths, not to mention risk the legendary wrath of Jon Snow, in order to get Sansa the boyfriend she deserves. But he'll do it, because Theon Greyjoy is a loyal friend - and he'll never let a stupid sprig of mistletoe get the better of him.

When the Grinch Met the Redhead 1k by @yenstarkofrivia

the one where Sansa likes to sing Christmas songs at 3am and Jon is a miserable Grinch

merry and bright 27k by @cellsshapedlikestars

ex-child star Sansa Stark is in desperate need of money and takes a role in a Hallmark Christmas movie, filming in the mountain resort town of Wintertown, Vermont. There, Fire Chief Jon Snow is on set to oversee safety regulations. Sansa hates Christmas and she hates small towns, but a casual fling with a rugged local fireman might be just what she needs.

four 5k by @cellsshapedlikestars (I've reread this fic many times)

She had never put Jon and Christmas together, but now she thinks she'll never be able to separate them. or, four Christmases, three midnight excursions, two angry siblings, and one boy at the center of it all

Be My +1 47k by @vivilove-jonsa

Seven months after she attended a wedding with her brother's work colleague (and gave him a tipsy, unrequited kiss when he walked her to the door), Sansa Stark finds herself in the unenviable situation of desperately needing a date for her prep school reunion at a ski resort which will also be attended by her ex-boyfriend/boss's son, Harry Hardyng and her Former-BFF/Frenemy, Margaery Tyrell.

The Best Christmas Present (Is You) 3k @foreverreadingbeautifulbooks

Every year the Starks and honorary Starks spent the week of Christmas in the most northern of the lodges they owned. No guests were allowed to visit the lodge during that week and it was the one time a year where no one in their family was allowed to work. Everyone hung out, played in the snow, skied, baked, ate lots of food, and simply enjoyed being together. It was refreshing to spend so much time with her family since she felt like she’d barely seen them this last year. But, if Sansa was honest, after five days of hanging out with them nonstop, she’d been looking forward to spending a little bit of time by herself. Every year on Christmas Eve, while her mom and dad picked out the tree, Bran would play chess with their neighbor’s son, Lyanna - who was notorious for buying gifts at the last minute - went shopping, Arya and the rest of the boys would challenge each other to skiing contests, and Sansa would take that opportunity to have her own private holiday celebration indoors. She would warm up some hot chocolate, turn up her Christmas playlist, and snuggle down in some blankets to wrap all of her Christmas presents. But not this year. This year she was stuck with Jon Snow and his broken ankle.

the perfect gift for christmas for me would be 5k

“Be my boyfriend,” Sansa says. Jon's eyebrows raise, and she amends, “My fake boyfriend." or, Sansa, Jon, and fake dating for the winter holidays.

Christmas Carriage Ride 1.5k

Jon Snow has grown tired of his holiday job driving a horse-drawn carriage around the streets of Chicago. Then Sansa shows up, and Jon sees the city through new eyes

#LockedinLovers 8k by @amymel86

the one where Sansa and Jon are locked in a big ol' department store over Christmas because of a convenient snow storm

The Nightmare Before Christmas 3k by @ladysalvatore3

Sansa Stark was far from being perfect; she occasionally forgot to put the lid back on the toothpaste, she was constantly arriving late to places, she didn’t know how to change a tire or had any idea of what path her life was going to take, but there were three things that Sansa was absolutely sure about. She loved to write. Christmas was the best holiday ever. She hated Jon Snow.

'Tis the Damn Season 4k by @justhereforfandomandfriends

Four times Jon doesn’t ask Sansa to stay, and the one time he does. Sansa Stark was sneaking out of her childhood bedroom to sleep in Jon Snow's bed. If you'd told teenage Sansa, she'd have laughed in scorn (but she’d have flushed too). Twenty-nine year old Sansa was almost used to it. By now, it was practically a tradition, and there was nothing Sansa loved more than holiday traditions. corresponding moodboard

when the snow falls and the white wind blows 10k

Sansa Stark and Jon Snow had never been particularly close, but since her brother died and the two moved to the same city they have been spending more time together. Sansa tells herself Jon sees her as the little girl who lived in the house beside his. Jon tells himself Sansa sees him as nothing more than her brother's best friend. But when the two are snowed in on the way back home for Christmas, their thoughts change.

Shamelessly Un-christmas 3k by @jade-masquerade

After Jon denied her a kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas, Sansa tries to make amends.

A Tale of Two Christmases 2k by @jade-masquerade

A Christmas gift mix-up involving a special sweater brings Sansa and Jon together. corresponding fanart by @grrmartin

all i want for christmas is you...to tell everyone we're together 2k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

It's Christmas and all Jon wants is for he and Sansa to be public with their relationship.

Who's coming to you tonight? 1k by @kissed-by-circe

“So you want me, me and no one else, to dress up as Nikolaus and bring wee-“ his mind scrambles as he tries to remember the boy’s name, because Arya only uses pet names for him, and he doubts that her sister named her child Woolfling, Dr Snuggles, or Baby-Bear, “wee… Ar- Artos some candy, and tell him that he’s been naughty?” Arya forces Jon to play Nikolaus for her lil nephew, and somehow forgets to mention that singlemom!Sansa is really really hot

Lights 7k by @charmtion

Two years ago, Arya turned up on Jon and Sansa’s doorstep and left after a single, soul-aching conversation. Now they are gathered back together for a Stark family Christmas, where old wounds and new secrets threaten to collide.

Door to Door Delivery 2k by @hilarychuff

A drabble inspired by my While You Were Sleeping (1995). Jon walks Sansa home during a Chicago winter.

The Spirit of Christmas Gifset by @aureliacamargo

All I Want for Christmas Jonsa vid by @aerishe

FOLGERSCEST INSPIRED

(yes, that commercial prompted Jonsa content which makes me laugh so it gets a special shout-out!)

Perks of the Queen 5k by @intothecest

After years in his exile in the Night's Watch, Jon Snow finally answers a summons to Winterfell from his sister, Queen in the North, just in time for a festival. Gifts are exchanged, long-simmering feelings percolate up, and, oh yes, coffee has come to Westeros.

The Best Part of Waking Up 5k @jillypups

After a long stint up in Alaska doing manly things, Jon Snow comes back to the Stark family home where he spent nearly all of his childhood, where he called the Stark kids brother and sister. But things change after a few years go by.

Gifset by @cindy-clawford

OTHER

Light in the Darkest Days of the Year Little Women AU/historical AU 9k by @sibyldisobedience

Winterfell was a handsome old house of modest proportions, that had once seen better days. Its green shutters and gables had faded to a dull grey. Its stone walls could use a new coat of whitewash. And its family, the Starks, had once been counted amongst the most distinguished in Wintertown — a small, sleepy hamlet, just north of the bustling port city of White Harbour, where it was as likely to snow in the summer as not. But despite this dreary description, Winterfell was the happiest little home in the neighbourhood. Even on the darkest, coldest days of winter, the little grey house radiated warmth and light from its frosted-over windows, like a beacon.

Fairy Lights and Mistletoe 3k Hogwarts AU, by @maybetwice

Sansa has every intention of going to the Yule Ball with Jon, even though he isn't sure why.

Shine Your Light on Me 2k canon verse @thatgirlnevershutsup

Let's celebrate a Northern holiday with Sansa and Jon! Think about a Hallmark Christmas movie set in Westeros, and you're on the right track.

A Stark Solstice 1.5k canon verse @ritzintherabbithole

It’s only fitting, she thought, that fresh snow should blanket the land around Winterfell today of all days. It is pristine, virgin white snow, seemingly pure, but Sansa know knows the kind of monsters that hide in the cold and her time spent in King’s Landing cured her of any instinct to trust appearances.

A midwinter night's dream 2k canon verse

After the Long Night, Sansa fears winter more than ever. How will her new born daughter survive a winter that might last for years? But magic is gone from Westeros, and soon it becomes clear that every season only lasts for a few moons. Though winters are still brutal, there is always an end in sight. And every year on the darkest day of them all, the Starks in Winterfell have a feast.

Festive Jonsa Edit

Christmas Is Here Gifset and Merry Christmas Gifset by @tiny-little-bird

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #holiday au #christmas au #modern au #dot fic list

139 notes · View notes

anastaaaaaaasia · 2 months

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Tag, you're it

Modern!Aegon targaryen x reader

Warnings: NSWF, smut, abusive and toxic relationships, mention and use of drugs, mention and use of alcohol

The party didn't go as planned and neither did your relationship. Two years is a long enough time to get to know a person, fall hopelessly in love and cry disappointedly into your pillow all night long, desperately trying to drown out your sobs. Your relationship with Aegon was the fucking wheel of Samsara, it lifted you to the peak of bliss and crashed you to the ground, harder with each turn.

The golden, no, platinum boy was born with a diamond spoon in his teeth and the same attitude towards everyone around him. “A first-rate jerk,” that’s how your best friend Margaery described him. “First class fuckbody,” you retorted. Admitting to others that your relationship was falling apart at the seams like buildings on the day of the fall of Pompeii meant admitting first of all to yourself that you had seriously screwed up. Hopeless and powerful.

Looking at me through your window Boy, you had your eye out for a little

Possessing the character of your parents, you did not allow anyone to wipe their feet on you. No one… except him. Every time you found out from acquaintances, friends and ,damn, even from his brother, that his dick had been in another girl, you tearfully swore to yourself that you would break up with him, throw his things to hell, tear up his magazines and throw him out the door of yours apartment, but every time you lied and couldn’t stand it, you lied and again deceived only yourself.

You didn't believe in gods. If you believed in them, then for all the promises you would not be allowed not only into heaven, but also into hell. You chuckled every time you thought about it.

Your friend Robb, sweet Robb, he sincerely tried to help you. Screaming in your face that your relationship with Aegon is toxic. He was the first one who brought you to a psychologist. A nice woman in her forties said from session to session that it was toxic. You knew it. But knowing does not mean being aware. But you still plunged into this sticky and enveloping relationship, time after time. Because somewhere deep down in your soul you knew you were just as toxic as Aegon. A couple created in hell and married by Satan himself.

"I'll cut you up and make you dinner You've reached the end, you are the winner"

Every time you met Aegon in the early morning when he returned to your apartment. The smell of other women's perfume almost suffocated you, and the hickeys all over his neck definitely did not belong to you. You bit, and bit so that marks remained. But you only bit him, and unfortunately he bit not only you.

Someone else's woman's lip gloss stuck to his cheeks like bees were swarming for honey. It didn't wash off his expensive shirts and designer T-shirts. You will forever remember how you sat in the bathroom with his fucking shirt. You cried for hours, drying yourself with the same clothes, crying and laughing. It was all so absurd.

Little bit of poison in me I can taste your skin in my teeth

Everyone was right, it's all toxic. That day you broke the mirror that was hanging on the wall, you could have sworn that you saw his damn reflection and grin there. But you stopped, you broke the decanter, the figurines, everything that your hands could reach. You didn’t care, he wasn’t there. You were ready to bet your soul that he was now in another bathroom at the club, driving into another girl’s pussy.

This made you laugh harder, until you realised that you were choking on tears. While cleaning the battlefield you created in the apartment, you took a fragment of a mirror. You hated what you witnessed. There were traces of mascara running from the eyes to the middle of the cheeks, lips were bitten, in blood. And your eyes. They were red, but your natural eye colour had never looked so vibrant to you. You hated it and loved your reflection at the same time. You hated the one who brought you to this state. But you loved the fact that even in such a miserable state you looked like a goddess.

That same evening you bought a ticket and flew to your home country. This was a quick flight. That same evening, having thrown your suitcase into the apartment your parents bought for you, you went to a club with friends from your former school. After six tequila shots, you told your whole story. Margaery tried to comfort you, Robb hugged you and promised to beat up your boyfriend. But it didn't help. Your other former classmates, Theon and Ramsay, helped. They said they knew how to relieve the pain. That day you tried molly for the second time in your life. The little pill gave you unforgettable emotions, you danced on the bar counter, men whistled and applauded in your direction. But you didn't care. There was nothing on your mind.

You understood that this was not a solution. And when the next morning you woke up with a severe headache and vomited for half the day, you felt killed, unsteady and wretched for the first time. Help came from where you weren't expecting. From your ex. Viserys fucking Targaryen. He was like your current boyfriend's cousin or something. He held you while you cried all evening, he helped you open a bottle of martini and mixed cocktails. He reassured you and said everything you had heard before. You have to break up with Aegon, but he was the first person to whom you admitted that you couldn’t. You allowed your ex to see you weak, broken.

"I love it when I hear you breathing I hope to God you're never leaving"

That evening when you first admitted this to someone besides yourself, it worked better than psychologists. And so now, when you are sitting in Aegon's car and he is driving you with you after the party, you wait, and wait, and pray. You pray that he will lose his temper and say something that will allow you to leave him. You provoked him, screamed how you hated the fact that he fucked other whores, you hated the constant parties. And it happened.

“Get out, get the fuck out of the car,” he screamed and slammed his hands on the steering wheel of his car. You were a little taken aback.

Running through the parking lot He chased me and he wouldn't stop

“Are you fucking high?” It was a question that did not require an answer. You were one hundred percent sure that he was high. And to be honest, you were afraid of this Aegon.

"I'm tired of you!" Aegon yelled, his face contorted in rage as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of your seat.

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered into space. You should have felt victory, but you couldn’t forgive such an attitude towards yourself.

Grabbed my hand, pushed me down Took the words right out my mouth

Aegon yanked you and pulled you out of the car. Your legs were unsteady. High heels and short clothes made you feel vulnerable in the darkness of the deserted street. Aegon grabbed the collar of your dress and leaned it against the stone wall of the building. “Do you have any idea how annoying you are?” he screamed.

“Oh please enlighten me,” you snapped.

Aegon's face twisted with rage. “I was with you for two years and all you did was complain, give me orders and ruin my parties. You're a pain in the ass." Aegon looked down on you, “I should have kicked you out months ago.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t want my boyfriend to kiss other sluts and find ways to get into their panties,” you replied, you remembered all the times he neglected you

“Am I that annoying because I want to have a good time at a party?” he shouted: “You are boring. I need fun." he continued, “Everyone is jealous because I have the best parties, I have the best girls, I have the best life… And I don’t want my girlfriend to interfere. You're no fun. Parties are more fun without you." "You're a bad girlfriend" he shouted

Can anybody hear me? I'm hidden under ground Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself?

“Our entire relationship, all I’ve done is support you, and I’m sorry if just being faithful is a really high price to pay for you,” it was true. All the times when his family was against him, you held him tightly and let him cry on your chest. It was your Aegon, but the man who looked at you with dilated pupils was unfamiliar to you. Aegon continued to argue at a primary school level, sometimes you tried not to laugh.

He looked at you with contempt: “Your only idea is to stop me from getting drunk, to stop me from kissing other girls. You want to control me. You're a control freak." He looked up and down

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

"Tell me"

A laugh escaped Aegon’s thin lips: “I see a nag. A boring nag who doesn’t allow me to live the way I want.” He spat on the floor next to you. “You're always complaining, always asking me why I drink, why I flirt with other girls…” He laughed again.

“Well, because you’re my damn boyfriend, you know when people in relationships don’t cheat, that’s the reason people invented relationships,” you were angry and already at your breaking point.

Aegon laughed, but his eyes were cold and hard: “I know you would want me to be faithful and look only at you. I tried this first. But your nagging made me unhappy. To experience life, I want to have fun. I won't be sorry if you don't like it. You don't matter."

“Then it’s better to break up, I won’t let someone like you gaslight me.” You finally said it. That phrase I thought about, fantasised about and feared.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, "Really?" he chuckled. “Then do it. Break up with me. But you won't do it." He said, grinning. “Why? Because deep down I know that you are crazy about me. You can't get enough of me”.

Saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it" He's saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

“You’re only wrong about one thing: I’m crazy about you. We’re breaking up,” you exclaimed with a smile. “It’s over, farewell Aegon,” you said and started to walk away. It felt like you had thrown off long-standing shackles, you were freed, you finally wanted to live.

Aegon grabbed your arm, stopping you. “You can't leave me. This is my job". He glared at you, “And how exactly are you going to walk home in that dress and those heels? And it's dark outside…"

“It’s not your problem, you’re not my boyfriend anymore.” Why did these words sound so sweet and melodious from your lips? You didn't know, but you were sure you would understand later.

He leaned towards your face, smelling of alcohol. "But I can't let you go into the dark."

"And why? I said dripping with sarcasm

He smirked, “Because I don’t want to risk anything happening to you. You are my responsibility,” he said, and deep down he thought: the longer I delay her coming home, the more she will miss me

“Not anymore,” you shouted and laughed for the first time from the lightness in your chest. This feeling inspired you. You continued on your way home, laughing periodically and raising your hands to the starry sky.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is there?” He said, looking at you. “What if you get lost? Or if something bad happens to you? What would I tell your father? I can't let you leave like this.” His tone became gentle as he added, “I care about you.”

“Well that sucks because I don’t care about you,” you gave him your middle finger and then licked it.

He stared at you, trying to keep his temper. His hands clenched into fists until his knuckles turned white. After a moment, he gave a sharp nod "Oh yeah? Well, do whatever you want." He said and turned away "You'll see, you little bitch, you'll come back".

You were indifferent to his words. You walked home with a smile from ear to ear, even the damn heels didn’t spoil your mood.You only heard the sharp slam of a car door and the sound of wheels that were taking your ex somewhere far away, somewhere where you wouldn’t care about him.

After 15 minutes of walking home, you were finally there. You kicked off your shoes and looked at yourself in the mirror. There stood a girl who was proud of herself. It was the only thing that mattered to you at the moment. Walking into the kitchen, you took out a bottle of whiskey. It has always been customary in your family to celebrate any victories, small or large. You uncorked the bottle and drank straight from your throat.

The idea immediately came to mind. You turned on your favourite playlist and turned the volume up to maximum. Dancing, you reached the bedroom and began to sort through things. You put all of his shirts, hoodies and other items of clothing into boxes when one box caught your attention. Lingerie from Victoria's Secrets. His gift for Valentine's Day. He always said that red suits you.

Your inner bitch woke up with new confidence and, tearing open the gift wrapping, you put on your underwear and took a selfie, which you posted on your Instagram. Compliments from friends poured in at breakneck speed, but you didn’t care. You danced drunkenly on the marble table in your living room, breaking away just to open the windows to ventilate the room.

Eenie meenie miny mo Get your lady by her toes

You didn’t even suspect that your ex’s car was parked under these very windows. Aegon gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were as white as the first snow of winter. The notification of your new post brought him out of his trance. Your body, your lace lingerie, your smile. And all this without him. But you couldn’t really break up with him after two years, could you? Couldn't she? Right?

Something instantly switched in his head and he got out of the car. Anger, betrayal and adrenaline, all this was mixed in his head and that’s why he was now banging on your door.

You didn’t hear the knocks on the door, you didn’t hear him enter your apartment, and you definitely didn’t hear him sigh as he looked at you. You danced and moved your hips, laughed and drank even more from the already half-empty bottle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aegon exclaimed after turning off the player.

“Shit,” you exclaimed in shock. With a careless movement of your hands, you spilled the remaining whiskey on yourself and the table. "What are you doing here?"

“Well, I came to make sure you were alright since you are my girlfriend.But I can see you are more than fine. You are better than ever” Aegon said sarcastically. He was angry and pitiful at the same time. "I guess you were just joking when you told me we broke up, weren't you?"

“No, I was extremely serious. Looks like the only one crying about the breakup is you,” you said mockingly. Alcohol gave you confidence and increased all your emotions significantly.

"I don't believe you for a second… You can't get over me, can you?" He leaned in to whisper into your ear "Be so honest for once and admit that you don't want to live without me" his hands lay on your hips, and his face was centimetres from your neck. No matter how wrong it was, you didn't pull away.

If she screams, don't let her go Eenie meenie miny mo

“I’m fucking living without you now Aegon, I can and I will,” you exclaimed. His hands squeezed you even tighter, in the mirror you could already see your reddened skin. You were sure that there would definitely be a couple of bruises.

"I don't believe you." He whispered, his breath on your neck. It had an effect on you that you didn't expect. You got goosebumps. This game can be played by two people. "You'll come crawling back. You'll beg forgiveness. That's what you always do."

“Then cry baby,” You whispered and bit his ear lightly, but with the confidence that the teeth marks would remain for a couple of days. “You fuck every girl at the university, that’s not what I wanted from a relationship,” you laughed.

That laugh triggered all his anger. "You know what? I think this breakup is permanent. You can have all your freedom. It's not like I really need you." He said, trying to sound nonchalant. But he was deeply upset, it showed in his voice and his eyes. He wanted you to run after him and confess your love for him.

“So this is the reason why you are squeezing my thighs? Because you don’t need me?” and after that you looked into his eyes. It was a mistake. Big and unforgivable. In a split second, you saw fire, hatred and desire in his eyes. There wasn't enough time for more.

His lips pressed against yours in a fiery kiss. The heat was dizzying, the moment he had been looking forward to for so long and the memory of the past two years came back at once. Your bodies were touching, and Aegon wanted more. The feelings of anger, insecurity, and jealousy were gone. His lips met yours again, and his hands were pulling your body close to him.

The next moment, your body was lying on the table where, minutes earlier, you had danced to celebrate the end of a toxic relationship. Your back felt sticky from the spilled whiskey, but that didn’t matter now. It looks like the wheel of samsara has begun another circle, but now you are at the peak of bliss. Looking at the chandelier, you thought that this couldn’t start again. It can't?

Aegon's mouth trailed down her neck, he kissed, nibbled, and sucked at your skin. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a warm flood of sensations coursing through his body. He groaned as he took in your scent. He wanted to devour you… and you will gladly let him.

He knew all your bliss points. The neck was one of them. You flinched slightly as he bit your collarbone. And at that moment the brain lost control. You pressed your lips to his, biting his lips and gently licking the blood.

His mouth continued its journey down your body until it was close to your panties.

“Red suits you,” he said with a grin. You knew it and you hated yourself for it. He will always find his own way to you. The touch of the cold metal of his rings pulled you out of your thoughts and you realised that you were already lying naked in front of him on the table.

Your mother said to pick the very best girl And I am

As soon as Aegon saw your wet pussy glistening under the lights, he couldn't resist the urge to taste it. Drooling at the sight, he knelt down between your legs, positioning himself perfectly so that he could reach every inch of your pussy with his tongue. The sound of his eager slurping filled the room, mixed with the moans escaping your mouth as he lapped at your folds eagerly. At first you tried to bite your lip to hold back your moans, but you quickly realised that it was pointless.

"Ah… fuck…" He muttered under his breath, lost in the pleasure of tasting you. He pulled away momentarily to catch his breath before diving right back in, swirling his tongue around your entrance teasingly before pushing one finger inside of you slowly, testing your tightness.

Hearing your moan, Aegon's pace increased, his tongue working faster and harder as he savoured the taste of your juices flowing down his throat. He added another finger, pushing deeper into your wetness with each pass, feeling the tightness around his digits gradually giving way to accommodate his intrusion.

"There we go," he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly with desire. "Feel good, love?" He asked, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes as he continued to pleasure your pussy with his mouth.

With one last swift motion, he removed his fingers from your pussy and sucked your clit hard into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it vigorously while biting down lightly on the sensitive nub. But you wanted more, you needed more.

Aegon felt your hands start to work on his jeans, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through him as he watched you undoing them. He knew what this meant - you wanted him inside of you, and he couldn't wait any longer.

"I can't wait to be deep inside of you," he growled, standing up and pulling off his pants and boxers in one swift motion, revealing his fully erect cock standing proudly against his stomach.

In one swift movement, he kicked off his underwear and stepped out of them completely, leaving himself completely exposed for you to see. His cock throbbed with anticipation, ready to fill you up completely. "You want this big dick inside of you, don't you?"

Aegon grinned wickedly at your nod, knowing exactly what you wanted. He didn't waste any time, he immediately grabbed onto your hips and guided his throbbing member towards your waiting pussy. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within your walls, filling you up completely. The sound of their entry echoed throughout the empty room, mixing with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the slap of flesh against flesh.

"Fuck" He groaned, his voice low and guttural as he began to fuck you roughly, driving himself into your depths over and over again. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, pounding into you with force, his balls slapping against your thighs with each powerful stroke.

Aegon felt your pussy clinch around him tightly as you climaxed, his cock throbbing with each pulse of your orgasm. He loved seeing you come undone in front of him, knowing that he was the one who had brought you to such heights of pleasure. With a satisfied grunt, he increased the intensity of his thrusts, driving himself even deeper into you as he continued to pound away at your sensitive walls.

Feeling your release, Aegon's own climax began to build up in him, and with a final primal roar, he unloaded a hot stream of cum inside of you, filling your womb with his thick seed as he released wave after wave of pure ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, he gently pressed a kiss behind your ear and whispered, “Tag, you’re it.”

That night you came 4four times, he came three times. It was a small victory, but still a victory. you were right, the wheel of samsara has started spinning again and you just have to wait for a new blow. Aegon may have been the one who created this wheel, but now it is your turn to control it. you looked at his sleeping face on the pillow of your bed and carefully tucked a strand of his platinum hair behind his ear.

You whispered something that he will never know because it’s your time now, and you'll be ready to crush him with that wheel harder than he's ever done before.

“Tag, you’re it”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen modern

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drakaripykiros130ac · 4 months

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Something hilarious I see often on Facebook posted by desperate TG stans: “Margaery’s mother was Alerie Hightower so she is TG.”

My answer to them: You do realize that Daemon’s bloodline infiltrated the Hightowers after Rhaena’s second marriage to Garmund Hightower, right? They had like six daughters together.

Which means that it is highly possible that Margaery is a direct descendant of Daemon Targaryen.

The greens were formed by Otto and Alicent Hightower, who were not even the main Hightower line. Just the second son and his gold-digging daughter. And Alicent’s line died out. Saying that Margaery is somehow TG just because her mother was a Hightower is beyond stupid.

Daemon and Rhaenyra’s bloodline was not only the ruling Targaryen bloodline for the rest of their dynasty, but it also infiltrated the Hightowers, the Martells and the Baratheons (and who knows who else).

There are even TG who say that Margaery looks like Alicent. LOL. Don’t even go there. Margaery was beautiful, kind, intelligent and ambitious in the good sense. Alicent is vicious, crazy, ambitious in a bad way, and politically stupid. Not to mention that Margaery doesn’t have the “I’m so innocent even though I do very bad things” doe eyes as her signature expression (alongside crazy b*tch eyes), unlike that other woman.

I mean seriously, at this point, when it comes to TG stans:

#margaery tyrell #team black #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #pro team black #queen rhaenyra #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #rhaena targaryen #anti team green #anti alicent hightower #anti greens #anti team green stans #anti alicent stans #game of thrones

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daenystheedreamer · 10 months

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game of thrones filler episode concepts

- ser pouce gets lost in the red keep and tommen and margaery have to find him! lots of fun scooby-doo type door gags. maybe tommen stumbles upon the bodies maegor built the red keep on. they’re somehow still bleeding, as if they’re the only reason the castle hasnt been whitewashed from rain. cersei accidentally gets roped in when ser pounce knocks over her wine glass!

- sansa is haunted by the ghosts of her parents while at the eyrie... to help them move on, she has to let cat possess her so lysa and cat can mend their relationship :) this magic is never mentioned ever again, even though it could be really really helpful :) the afterlife stuff is also never mentioned again

- it’s hard work being the cleaning staff for harrenhal! roose bolton wants to be leeched, there’s man-eating rats to keep track of and there’s a weird little girl running around making trouble.... back door pilot for a downton abbey but it’s harrenhal

- guest star satin episode! it can be like one of those one-off hot women on supernatural that dean will date for an episode and she never shows up again

- now hear me out. ‘doctor-lite’ episode with maybe just a cameo from walder frey or roose, means it can be produced cheaply. it’s the day before the red wedding and black walder and lame lothar have got a HELL of a party to plan!

- hotd filler episode! corlys brings home strange weeds from the free cities.... little arrax accidentally sets it on fire and the smoke is making house targaryen-velaryon-hightower a little kooky.... jace and aegon actually bond (this is never referenced again) and even the dragons are affected - vhagar gets the munchies! rhaenys is the only person not acting funny. revealed in a post-credits that she had QUITE the roaring twenties back in her hippy days 🤭 also she takes medieval medicinal CBD but thats unrelated

#asoiaf #hotd #big fan of the frey one. would be highly rated!#@ dnd .... here's how you can redeem yourselves ^_^

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justagirlwholikesadam · 9 months

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Dating Sandor Clegane - Headcanon

Modern Au! Sandor x Hispanic (Fem) Reader

A/n: I am Hispanic but I’m a No Sabo kid lol. I wrote this instead of cleaning my room. Comment below if you guys are interested in a NSFW headcanon.

»»————-　♡　————-««

SFW

Sandor didn't see you at first. He heard you two aisles over. He was at a 24/7 supermarket. He usually goes at night because of his face. He didn't like the stares and the people pointing. His height doesn't help as well, so he tended to do stuff at night.

He heard you yelling and at first he wasn't going to help because it ain’t his business, especially since he didn't understand what you were saying. He thinks it’s Spanish because his coworker Bronn, who was learning the language to impress his neighbor, Margaery had been yelling the word, coño for everything. He heard you yelling the word again.

He was going to walk away until you started to scream. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” Sandor was quick to push his cart towards your voice. He wasn't going to leave now since he heard that.

“The fuck you doing?” Sandor yelled when he saw a man towering over you, practically pushing you against the shelves. The man didn't even say a word, one look at Sandor he quickly scurry off like a rat.

“Que cabrón.” You mumbled under your breath as you watched the man run off. You looked to your right to see your savior but he was already turning away to leave.

You quickly caught up to him and thanked him for intervening. His first thought of you was you were beautiful, very beautiful and you were nice. He was surprised that you offered to cook for him when you noticed the ungodly amount of frozen tv dinner in his cart.

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach is the saying Sandor heard and didn't believe until he ate your cooking. He knocked on your door and his nostrils were filled with the smell of spices. His stomach rumbled and he was salivating. He never had a home cook meal before. You welcomed him inside and he was shocked at the amount of food at the table. Steak, rice, beans, salad, and all sorts of side dishes. Sandor learned what plátanos were and he fell in love with them. Maduros with cheese and tostones had become his favorite food.

After a year dating him, you had mentioned to him about your family. He was a little bit weary since he knows you have a very large family. He has heard your family calling you on the phone while cooking or cleaning. Sometimes he would wave when your family video calls you on WhatsApp. Poor Sandor isn't used to it.

He told you about his family. His sister died young and his older brother is in jail. Parents were gone the moment Sandor became 16 and he hasn't heard of them since then. You wanted to cry when he told you about his childhood and how he got burned.

You bribed Sandor to come with you to your nephew's birthday. You told him this would be the best way to meet the family. You would be cooking maduros with cheese for the next two weeks.

Sandor didn't want to go to the party empty handed even though you already bought a gift. He didn't want to be rude but he thought you were joking when you told him he can bring a pack of Corona to the party. “But it’s a kid's birthday.” He told you while you were doing your hair in the bathroom.

“Babe, we are Hispanic. We have beer for every celebration.” Sandor bought 2 packs of 24. He wanted to get on your dad’s good side. He wasn't feeling nervous until he parked in front of your childhood home and saw the balloons tied on the railing of the stairs.

“Relax, mi amor. You look good.” You gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He wore dark blue jeans with a button down shirt. He had even trimmed his beard and combed his hair. He was still nervous that your family wouldn't approve of him or would make fun of his looks. You watched as Sandor got out of the car and carried the beer with ease.

His stomach was flipping when the front door opened and a small older lady came out wearing an apron. “Mija!” Sandor knew it was your mother. You had shown him many pictures of your family. Your mother gave you a big hug and a kiss on your cheek.

“Mamá, este es Sandor, mi novio.” Sandor had placed the cases of beer on the ground and was going to shake your mom’s hand when she walked towards him and gave him a hug. You grinned at the sight of your mom next to Sandor. The top of her head reached below his chest.

You couldn’t help but grin when Sandor started to blush by your mother’s hug. “Ven. Ven.” Sandor and you made your way to the backyard. Sandor can hear the music playing in the background, children laughing, and people dancing and talking. He kept looking at the flashy and colorful decorations. It was something he wasn’t used to hearing and seeing but he liked it. Everyone looked so happy.

Beforehand you had told Sandor that he had to introduce himself and greet every single family member. Sandor was feeling a bit overwhelmed, he hasn’t received so many hugs and kisses on the cheeks in his life. No one seems to mind his features. He got nervous when your little cousins, nieces and nephews came towards him. Children were always scared of him. They all looked at him with wide eyes.

The kids weren't shocked by his face at all. They were just simply amazed by how tall he was. Your mother had to come and tell the kids to run along when they started to form a line so they could be carried on Sandor’s shoulders. They yelled how they could see mountains and the oceans while they sat on his shoulders. They compared their small hands with his very large hands. You had to calm your tias down because they kept telling you how tall and built he was.

Your father opened a beer for Sandor and sat next to him while your mom fussed over Sandor, making sure he had enough on his plate. Sandor had to unbuckle his belt after the fourth plate of food. You tried to tell your mom that Sandor was stuffed but she wouldn’t have it.

“Pero hija es tan flaco y alto que significa que necesita comer más.” You shook your head at your mother. “Calentaré unas tortillas para Sandy.” She said, watching Sandor scarf down another plate of food happily.

Some of your family members started calling Sandor, Sandy because they couldn’t pronounce his name due to their accent. Especially the little kids but Sandor didn't mind it though, he found it kind of funny. Since the nicknames he usually is given are mean ones.

Sandor smiled when it was time to cut the cake and saw your little nephew sitting behind a big cake. You were standing next to Sandor as everyone sang Happy Birthday. You looked at Sandor and saw him clapping his hands instead of singing, since everyone was singing in Spanish.

It was official, Sandor a.k.a. Sandy was your nephew’s best friend. Your nephew was in tears because the pole that was supposed to be holding the piñata broke. Sandor rose up from his seat and held the paper machete rainbow colored donkey above the kids head. Afterward, your nephew was sitting on your lap as he was showing Sandor his little bag of candy along with small toys he had gotten from the piñata. You were in shocked that your nephew gave Sandor a manicho, a chocolate bar with peanuts for him to try. These little kids never share their piñata candy.

“Tiene ojos tristes, mija.” Your mother told you as she sat on the chair next to you. Both of you were looking out to the backyard to see your cousins talking with Sandor as they stood by the grill. You agreed with your mother. “He doesn't have a good family, mami.”

“Ahora tiene una nueva familia.” Your mother had told you before leaving. You knew she was right as you watched the little kids hugging Sandor’s legs while he shook your cousin’s hands.

“This is for you, mijo.” Sandor was about to refuse but saw you shaking your head as your mother started to tie the plastic bags filled with Tupperware of foods from the party. Both of you stood by the door saying your goodbye to your parents when Sandor felt your mother tugged on his shirt making him lean down so she can kiss his burned cheek.

The ride home was quiet, you kept stealing glances over at Sandor. He had a faint smile on his face as he drove to his apartment. Getting inside and walking to the kitchen with the leftovers that your mother packed, you were storing them in the fridge when you heard Sandor come into the kitchen.

He said your name softly and you looked over at him. “What does mijo mean? Your mother called me that before we left.” You shut the door of the fridge and walked over towards him. “It means son.” Sandor looks away from you for a moment and you hug him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders pulling you closer to him.

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #rory mccann #headcanon #x hispanic reader #modern au #Sandor Clegane headcanon #headcanons #sfw interaction only

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 1)

A/N: and so my rewrite/editing begins :)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 5k

—————

It was midnight when Lord Petyr Baelish came to me with his unforgettable offer. I had been upset about it too, for it was the second time I’d seen him in less than three days. One can only spend so much time around Littlefinger without going insane, especially at such a late hour.

I had been half asleep when he’d arrived, hunched over the table and trying desperately to figure out what offense we were going to take. I wasn’t alone, either. Loras and Margaery had been with me too, with him as my opposition and her as our mediator. My younger brother was mad with grief over Renly’s death, I knew, and so hungry for revenge was he that he could not stop and think logically. Margaery was aware of that fact too, and she was trying her very hardest to soothe him.

“Stannis approaches King’s Landing now, and we sit here and do nothing. The only thing we did was flee. We left for Highgarden and let Stannis claim half of Renly’s bannermen without a fight!” Loras shouted, joining me at the table and pointing his finger at the map with a sort of accusation. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and rolling up the sleeves of my nightgown. Both my sister and I were in our nightwear, but Loras had not removed his armor in days, it seemed. He had hardly slept or bathed. Which was unfortunate, because I dearly wished he would.

“Stannis would have claimed those men no matter what, Loras, we’ve been over this. It was not Renly they cared for, it was his just rule and his ‘claim’, which was never good to begin with. Would you have men die to put a corpse on the throne? There is nothing we could have done!”

“(Y/N)!”

Margaery gave me a somewhat disappointed look, and I knew it was admittedly wrong of me to mention Renly’s death so harshly, but what choice did I have? Being gentle had not worked with my brother, and I needed him to understand that as the head of the Tyrell army, my decisions were not to be questioned.

“It doesn’t mean that we needed to flee… we ought to have stayed and killed Stannis,” Loras muttered defeatedly, falling back into a chair and staring at nothing. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. If I’d ever lost a lover, perhaps I would’ve known—or at the very least understood it.

I softened a bit, however, and stepped over to Loras. I held the back of his head, running my fingers through his brown curls and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“We will take revenge on Stannis, brother. I promise you that.”

Loras said nothing, but I felt him relax under my touch, and it seemed that my words had also soothed him a bit. I had not entirely worked out how we would take revenge, but that was something I wished to think on when I wasn’t entirely sleep deprived. Though, that would certainly be difficult to do if Stannis managed to take King’s Landing.

“Lady (Y/N), Lord Petyr Baelish is here to see you!” Ser Elias called from the other side of my door. He had been my personal guard since I was a girl, but I had forbidden him to join the fighting since his wife was pregnant with their first child. Now that we were back at Highgarden though, he was once again by my side.

Margaery and I gave each other a cautious glance, obviously both wondering what Littlefinger was doing here at such an hour. We had seen him right before we’d left Renly’s camp, and even then he had been going on about ‘wanting to help us.’ Whatever reason he had, it better have been damn good to intrude at nearly midnight.

“Let him in.”

Ser Elias opened the door, and sure enough there was Baelish. Gods, I would never be able to tolerate that man. He stepped into the room with a sort of satisfaction, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. There were very few things I hated more than discomfort.

“Lady (Y/N), Lady Margaery. Ser Loras,” Lord Baelish greeted in his low, scratchy voice. I found myself giving him a curt nod, though I was utterly annoyed by and wary of his presence. His hands were folded in front of his stomach, waiting to deliver some news surely.

“Baelish. What brings you to Highgarden at such a late hour?” I inquired, not bothering to hide my annoyance. There was no reason to, anyways. The man had dared to call on me at this time of night.

“Ah, yes. I apologize for my late arrival. I’ve been riding since noon to get here. I bring news—or rather, an offer—from Harrenhal,” he informed, beginning to grin when my eyes went wide. There was only one Lord occupying Harrenhal right now, and the thought of him made my blood boil. “Lord Tywin has formally extended the offer of an alliance. House Tyrell has not declared for any king. Any living king, at least. I know that Renly Baratheon was rather… close to your family,” Littlefinger noted, glancing over at Loras as the insinuation slipped from his tongue. My brother was just as infuriated as I was now, and he rose from his seat with an overwhelming anger.

“You will watch your tongue, Littlefinger. If you wish to keep it, at any rate. You will not mock my brother and you certainly will not mock me by insinuating that I ought to be an ally to Tywin Lannister,” I scowled, my clenched fist pushing against the wood of the table so I would refrain from using it. Margaery had rushed to Loras and was trying to soothe him. It thankfully seemed to be working.

“Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend. Lord Tywin is serious upon this subject. I know that the two of you… have a rather troubled history, but it should not prevent an alliance between two great houses,” he said, still grinning rather creepily. I wondered if he was capable of being normal.

I shook my head vehemently.

“Nothing in all seven hells could convince me to go anywhere near that man.”

It was complicated—my relationship with Lord Tywin Lannister, I mean. For I was a firm believer that vows were a sacred thing, and not in the same, honorable way that Ned Stark had, but in a personal way. If one vows something to themselves, they ought not to break it. When I was 14 years old, I had made such a vow. And gods, even just the memory of what had prompted it infuriated me.

—————

My father, gods bless his stomach, had been eating on nearly the entire ride to Casterly Rock, even despite the tossing of our wheelhouse. My grandmother and I had watched him with a mutual disgust, pausing our conversation whenever he began to chew too obnoxiously.

My mother had stayed behind with Margaery, who was only seven and still a bit too young for such a long carriage ride. Loras, already 12, had opted to stay behind with Margaery so she would not feel lonely. I wished I’d been able to stay behind too, because although my father paraded this as some ‘exploration’ of my worldly knowledge, I knew perfectly well that it was in reality an attempt to find me someone’s son to marry. My grandmother had known this too, and I was grateful she had not let me come alone with only my father.

I was consoled by the fact that Casterly Rock was our first visit, though. History had always been a favorite subject of mine, and this of course included all the great houses. In my opinion, Casterly Rock would’ve been the ideal place to live had I not been from Highgarden. Of course, there was nothing that could ever beat Highgarden, with its ripe smelling summers and expansive hedge maze. I could no longer count how many times Loras and I had chased each other through it with sparring swords in our hands. I always beat him, the fool.

But Casterly Rock was said to be magnificent, even taller than the wall and certainly much richer. I wanted to see Lannisport, too. I was certain that I could find a more suitable sword for my age, as the nearby mines were not only abundant with gold. Because along with my immense studies, both my mother and grandmother had insisted that I be trained in fighting. That had been allowed quite begrudgingly by my father, but eventually he came to recognize what the women in my family had already noticed. I was a rather energetic child, and I’d always been sharp intellectually. So much so that they struggled finding Maesters and Septas who wouldn’t bore me.

The point of that, however, was that those two things combined had provided a natural talent with a sword. And it was not that I did not know how to sing, dance, or sew, it was merely that fighting had suited me better. At 14, I was certainly no legend, but it was clear that if I continued to practice, then perhaps I would be. That thought had sparked much excitement in my mind, and arguably a bit too much of an ego. I did not agree with that statement, however.

Regardless, one thing was certain. My grandmother had promised me a new sword for my recently passed nameday, and I hoped to find the weapon in Lannisport. I could already picture its shiny iron blade with a golden handle. Though, I secretly wished that I could convince her to invest in two daggers instead, for they were easier to handle and much easier to hide.

These thoughts all disappeared when the wheelhouse began to slow, however. I immediately reached over toward the window, sliding the cover to the side and peaking through the gap. I instantly began to smile, looking back at my grandmother with unbridled joy.

“I know you’re excited, dear, but you must calm yourself. Lord Tywin won’t tolerate you acting giddy, and you’re certainly old enough to know better,” my grandmother whispered, grabbing at my arm and leaning toward me. I swallowed, nodding and trying to suppress whatever feelings I was having. Tywin Lannister had no face in my mind, he was the kind of man that nobody bothered physically describing because how he looked was of no importance. The Lord of Casterly Rock was ruthless, cold, and calculating. And apparently it had been even worse since his wife died.

When I tried to conjure him up in my head, nothing came. He would be blonde, I knew, with blue or green eyes. I expected his hair would be starting to lighten with age too, for he was about 51 now if my math was correct—which it was not, he was actually 55. But other than that, I had no clue what to expect. Surely a man with such a description and reputation would be tall, right?

Though, I was of the opinion that while Tywin Lannister could certainly be ruthless, he was no military genius. He had not even participated in Robert’s Rebellion, instead merely waiting to claim victory at the end and then marry his daughter to the new king. A lion ought to be brave, I felt, not cowardly.

The wheelhouse finally came to a stop, and I swallowed when the door was pulled open. Ser Elias had smiled at me then, and it had soothed my nerves. I was glad that he had come too, for I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He was 27, approximately 13 years older than me, and for that reason he was like an older brother to me. Perhaps he was even like a father, for the gods knew I did not think much of my actual one.

Once my father and grandmother had exited, Ser Elias helped me down from the small steps and whispered ‘my lady’ under his breath. I was met with Casterly Rock in all its glory once I had stepped onto the ground outside. The Lion’s Mouth, or the entrance to the castle, was magnificent. And once we had actually gone inside my bewilderment only increased. It seemed that each room in The Rock was lined with gold, and that each hall must be grander than the last. Highgarden was beautiful in a natural way, but I had never seen such a display of pure wealth before.

I’d zoned out practically the entire time we were walking, and at some point I’d gotten so distracted by the interior that I had seemingly been left behind. I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up where I had, but either way when I’d turned around nobody familiar was there.

In an attempt to find my family, I’d begun searching the halls. They seemed practically never ending, and I was beginning to feel a deep panic set within me. I was trying very hard to be rational, but it’s a difficult thing to do when you feel utterly lost. My breath had begun to pick up its pace, and my nerves were now unbearable.

However, in this desperate attempt to locate my family, I had been opening and closing various doors, which led me to stumble upon a grand study. My breath hitched when I saw it through the doorway, and suddenly my quest was abandoned. I couldn’t have kept myself from entering, no matter how hard I’d tried, for something about the space had instantly compelled me.

With two large, gorgeous windows overlooking the sea, the room was filled with natural light. The red drapes were drawn open, and it went well with the stone walls. There were all sorts of things displayed around the room, but my favorite of them was the glorious sword placed above the hearth. I found myself wandering towards it like a moth to a flame.

Staring at it, I realized it was almost exactly what I wanted in a sword. The blade was magnificent, and its handle was covered in gold. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen such intricate details on a weapon either, which only excited me even further.

There was a sudden padding of footsteps behind me, and when I turned around I found a somewhat older gentleman walking into the room with two papers in his hands. He was holding one and reading the other, and it took him a few seconds to look up and notice me. When he did, he instantly stopped walking. His hands did not drop, but he observed me just as thoroughly as I had been observing him.

The man was quite tall, about 6,3 if I had to guess. His hair had some white, and so did his beard. The white was only in certain streaks, though, as if somebody had made a conscious effort to paint it that way. His clothes had also stricken me as odd, for he was dressed entirely in black. It made me wonder if perhaps this man had just experienced some sort of loss, for he was certainly dressed like a mourner. I also noticed that the fabric was expensive, and I felt confident that this man was a lord of some kind. But that was odd too, for no nobles had passed away recently. I would’ve heard about it.

“Who are you, girl?”

His voice caught me off guard, knocking me from my thoughts simply with its sheer deepness. My eyes widened a bit, almost as though I’d just remembered I was standing there and he could see me.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, my lord,” I answered quickly, giving him the best curtsy I could muster in such a thrown state. I had no clue what it was, but this man had instantly captured my attention. Especially with his piercing blue eyes.

“And how do you know I’m a lord?” he questioned, stacking his two papers in his hands and setting them down on the table beside him. I swallowed, nodding toward him—or rather his clothes.

“The fabric of your coat. It’s very nice. The quality is fitting for a lord,” I reasoned, and for a moment I expected him to look down at the coat. But no, he did not; his eyes remained on me.

“Rather observant of you. Why are you in here?”

“I’m afraid I got lost, my lord. My family- well, we were being shown around and I suppose I became distracted. I was attempting to find my grandmother and father.”

“And you ended up here?”

“Yes, my lord. I was looking at the sword- the sword above the hearth.”

I motioned to the weapon above the fireplace and turned to look at it again. The older man finally tore his eyes away from me and observed the blade with me. He nodded slowly with a contemplative ‘hm’ as he did. He was hard to read, and I didn’t like that. Usually I was quite good at reading people.

“That sword was my fathers,” he revealed, walking over and standing beside me as we looked up at it. An air of parchment and wax—along with the scent of expensive oils—came from him, and I knew instantly that this man spent hours upon hours at his desk. Was this his office? Realizing he had just mentioned that the sword belonged to his father, I made the connection. I was speaking to Tywin Lannister, surely.

I looked at him again, and I realized that while I had predicted the strands of white in his hair, and the blue eyes, I had not expected him to be anything like this. Yes, some of his questions towards me had been rash and rather curt, but the man had just found a girl in his office. Why shouldn’t he be a bit alarmed?

Overall, though, he did not seem to be the heartless man that everyone had described. He was no nicer nor ruder than plenty of people, it seemed to me. Although, there was also a possibility I simply hadn’t gotten to know him.

“It’s gorgeous. The blade looks masterfully crafted, and I’ve never seen such a handle before. I would give anything for such a weapon,” I noted with utter adoration. I was beginning to wonder how I would ever be satisfied with a small, simply detailed sword when I had seen this. And when I say simply detailed, I merely mean that anything would appear simple in comparison.

“You use swords?” he asked, a sort of bewilderment in his voice as he did so. I nodded, only hesitating for a moment. Going about revealing this sort of thing would make me an unattractive bride, I knew, but perhaps that was not entirely bad.

“Yes, my lord, I do. I’ve become quite good, too,” I added with a sort of prideful smile. He was looking down at me, and after blinking a few times he glanced away and fixed his eyes on the sword once more.

“I can’t say I’ve met many noble ladies who know how to use weapons. I’m surprised your father allowed it,” he remarked, folding his hands behind his back now. I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

“My father did not want to allow it. My mother and grandmother wore him down, I’m afraid. They seemed to believe I had some natural talent for it,” I explained, which made him briefly smile. It had come and gone within a single second, but I had not missed it. Was I speaking to Tywin Lannister?

“And do you think that too? That you have a natural talent?” he questioned, raising his brow at me. I smiled with my lips as my pride took hold of me.

“I certainly do. My brother is only two years younger than me but he’s nowhere near as good. He’s better at jousting, I suppose. It’s never really interested me,” I told him, not entirely sure why I felt so comfortable revealing such things to a man whose name I was not even sure of.

“I see. I have three brothers, two of which are far more athletic and reckless than I would like. The other is far more reasonable, and thankfully trusts me just as much as I trust him,” he informed, making me wrack my brain. I had paid plenty of attention during my lessons, but how was I supposed to remember how many siblings which lord had?

“Only brothers?” I inquired, hoping maybe he would reveal something more.

“No. One sister, Genna. She is far too much for me sometimes, but I care very much for her regardless.”

Genna sounded familiar, I realized. Yes, Genna was one of Tytos Lannister’s children, and obviously so was this man. But was it Tywin or Kevan? It had to be one of those two, for reckless and athletic did not fit them based on what I had heard. Perhaps this was actually Kevan, for he had been much nicer than I ever imagined Tywin Lannister would be.

“My lord, may I… may I ask for your name?” I had licked my lips nervously as I’d said it, and it made me uncomfortable. I was not used to feeling nervous.

“Who do you think I am?” he replied, making even more dread fill me. He had this sort of testing look in his eyes, and I could tell he was utterly intrigued by what I would say next.

“You are a son of Tytos, I know that much. But I- I can’t quite figure- are you the Lord Kevan Lannister?” I finally asked, attempting to dance around it but deciding that I ought to just say it. The man somehow showed absolutely no reaction to my guess.

“No, I am not.”

It was all he said, and I knew then that I was in fact speaking to Tywin Lannister. Even more nerves filled me, somehow. He was the same man I’d been talking to for the last ten minutes or so, but that name was so… well, how is one supposed to feel when they’re talking to Tywin Lannister?

“Apologies, Lord Tywin. I thought that perhaps… well, it was between you and Kevan,” I attempted to explain, although I didn’t want to outright say that he was ‘too nice’ to be the man I’d heard of.

“No need to apologize, Lady Tyrell,” he said genuinely, helping me relax just a little bit. I nodded, looking around because I feared that meeting his eyes right now might make my cheeks go hot. Noticing a map laid out on a table, I decided to avert my attention to that. It was huge, and showed all of Westeros.

Lord Tywin seemingly noticed my interest, for he took a few steps toward it and motioned for me to join him. I did so wordlessly, admiring all the details of it. Of course, I knew quite well all the different parts of each kingdom, but there was a level of detail on this map that I had never seen before.

“Is it just swords that interest you, or battle too?” he wondered aloud, observing my reaction to the map. Standing over it made me feel like a strategist, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean over it, my hands planted firmly on the table.

“Battle too. I’ve always liked history… I suppose being good with swords and enjoying history naturally leads to that. I hope- I hope that my father will make me the head of the Tyrell army once I’m old enough. It ought to go to my brother, but…” I trailed off, sighing. It was probably a hopeless dream unless my grandmother managed to persuade the man.

“Perhaps you’re more well suited for it. If you’ve studied battle and are better with a sword than he is, the role ought to go to you.”

“Even though I’m a woman?”

“I’ve found that women often make much better decisions than men do. My wife… I frequently sought her advice. Hers and Kevans. If your father is smart, he’ll choose a qualified child to lead his armies. The worst thing you can do is put an incompetent person in charge of one, especially when it’s as large as yours,” Lord Tywin said, making a glimmer of hope emerge inside of me. Did he truly think that? Tywin Lannister was nothing like everyone made him out to be.

“I suppose it’s the only thing I truly want. This trip is entirely for the purpose of marrying me off to some first son or other… but I- well, I can’t say that interests me very much,” I explained to him, unable to resist a sigh. If I had been born a man there wouldn’t have been any doubts.

“I see. Tell me, Lady Tyrell, if you were commander of the Tyrell army, what would you do?” he questioned, perhaps wondering if there was some grand reason that I desired to be in charge so badly.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t do what you did during Robert’s Rebellion,” I jested, though the moment that it came out of my mouth I regretted it. Something in Lord Tywin instantly changed, and suddenly he wasn’t the man I had been conversing with. His eyes had both darkened and narrowed, and his posture had gone stiff.

“And do what instead? You would’ve had me take Aerys' side just as your father did?” he asked, clearly insulting the fact that my family had stayed loyal to the Targaryens. I scowled despite the fact that I did wish my father would’ve chosen Robert’s side. It was not as if Lord Tywin deserved a say.

“At least my father took a side. Meanwhile, you remained at Casterly Rock waiting to see who would emerge victorious so you wouldn’t look bad no matter what happened,” I scoffed, suddenly becoming defiant. Who was this man to think that somehow everything he did was perfectly normal and acceptable even when it was not? Who was he to think that the codes of honor and war weren’t applicable?

“Tell me this, girl, why should I have involved myself in a war that started because Rhaegar Targaryen decided to behave stupidly? Was I supposed to feel some sense of duty to Lyanna Stark? She was a girl no older than you, and yet you seem to believe that somehow I should’ve been eager to call the banners,” he scoffed, his voice low and warning. I wondered if I was the first person to challenge him upon this subject.

“I am not suggesting that you ought to have been eager, but you should have done it regardless,” I reprimanded, my face growing increasingly hot. I wanted to calm myself, but this man had become infuriating in a way I was unfamiliar with. He was difficult. He spoke as though he was all knowing and I was some stupid, clueless child. I was nothing like that.

“And again, I ask you, would you have had me side with Aerys? The man who insulted my wife repeatedly, named my eldest son to the kingsguard, and refused to marry our children despite it being a perfectly good match? No man alive would bear that slight. And why should I have joined King Robert? House Targaryen had reigned for 300 years, and there was nothing about Robert Baratheon that suggested his rebellion would be any different from the countless that had preceded it,” Lord Tywin explained, and there was a tone in his voice that suggested he was laughing at me. Well, Tywin Lannister did not laugh. Not anymore, they said.

But that did not keep him from mocking.

“If that was truly your opinion, then you ought to have simply not joined the war at all. But you cheated, Lord Tywin. If you hadn’t joined the war at all, you only would’ve been a coward. Instead you joined when it suited you and became a cheat and a coward,” I snapped with a sort of conviction. No excuse he would make might convince me otherwise.

“You are a fool, girl. If you truly believe that fighting in wars is honorable, I pray that your father never makes the mistake of putting you in charge of House Tyrell’s army. I did what was best for House Lannister. That is not cheating, nor does it make me a coward. I protected and provided for my family, just as any smart man would. And even if you are utterly stupid I don’t believe anyone so dumb as to not understand that,” he scowled, taking another step toward me and towering over my frame. I was too confident and too self assured to be frightened. Not only that, but there was no hope of containing my anger now. I had liked being called stupid just as much as he had liked being called a coward. Though, a girl of 14 expresses that anger much differently than a man of 55. At least, one would hope.

“I am not stupid! You just don’t like hearing criticism because you cannot stand the fact that you aren’t entirely untouchable! I am not like the cowardly men who quiver at your feet, Lord Tywin. I know better now, for the man before me is not the fearsome and powerful man that I had heard so much about. You are nothing but a bitter and cruel coward that somehow thinks he deserves respect. I assure you, Lord Tywin, that when I get that army I will command it better than you have ever commanded yours,” I hissed at him, volume rising with my anger. In a matter of minutes, the man who I had originally believed to be Kevan Lannister was now the most disgusting person I’d ever met. It somehow infuriated me even further that he had deceived me in that way, for I had been vulnerable in front of this awful man. It was a lesson, I supposed.

“Get. Out.”

Those two words were the only thing that came from him, but there was clearly an even deeper anger inside of him. I could see it in his blue eyes, now having turned to utter ice. He was clearly unaccustomed to this ‘disrespect’, and it was a wonder that he held his tongue. He did not want to start another war over a 14 year old girl, I suspected.

Either way, I did as he asked with a final scowl and hot glare. I truthfully had no desire to see or speak to this man ever again, and I felt certain that our trip would be cut short. I was correct, of course. The moment that my father and grandmother heard of what had happened from Lord Tywin, they—and by they, I mean my father alone—apologized profusely. It was an awkward scenario that had unfortunately arisen because I refused to tell them what had happened.

I would never forget the carriage ride back to Highgarden. My father had been so furious he had opted to ride separate from us. My grandmother alternatively tried to be more reasonable, but it did little good to an angry 14 year old.

“I can admit that Lord Tywin is not exactly pleasant company, (Y/N), but I cannot understand what has infuriated the two of you so deeply. Both of you behaved like children if you ask me,” she scoffed, placing her hand over her cup so her wine wouldn’t spill as we hit a bumpy spot. I refused to look at her, only looking out the window. She grabbed my face then, forcing me to turn my head.

“(Y/N), if you refuse to make amends or at least apologize to Lord Tywin, your father is never going to make you head of the army. Even if I think that the Lord of Casterly Rock deserved to be told off for once, it has caused Mace considerable embarrassment. Show him that you aren’t just a little girl and that you’re mature enough to handle the responsibility of an army. It’s not just leading men that matters, my dear. It’s being able to find common ground, too,” my grandmother continued, taking another offense. I did consider her words, and for much longer than I normally would’ve when I was angry, but it still did not produce any major breakthrough for me. Not at 14, anyways.

“Be honest, grandmother. All that father wants is to put Loras in charge. If I am going to do something to convince him that I deserve our army, it’s going to be on my own terms. I refuse to be like him, acquiescing to ‘better’ men. Only men can afford to be weak in this world, and you know that. No, I will not apologize to or compromise with Lord Tywin,” I said, huffing out with a sort of determination. A fire came into my eyes then, and even if I had not noticed it, my grandmother certainly had. “In fact, I will take it a step further. Not only do I refuse to apologize to that insufferable cunt, but I vow, grandmother. I vow that I will hate Tywin Lannister for the rest of my life.”

My grandmother remained silent in response to my claim, and when I realized that she was not going to reply, I merely sighed and looked out the window once more. She may have thought I was being dramatic in my anger, but I knew that my statement was truthful. I would hate that man until my dying day, and there was nothing that would ever change that.

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #a lion in the garden #charles dance #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #house lannister #house tyrell

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