#ramsey bolton imagine

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Imagine...

Ramsay truly loving Stark!reader and that is why she captured winterfell. He is just beyond obsessed with you. He is convinced that he can make you love him and what better way to do it than to make you realize how good he can make you feel. He claims you and fucks you in every corner and tower of the winterfell castle, telling you how much you mean to him. Leaving one of his hounds in your room to "protect" you but actually it's to make sure you don't try to escape. Tying you up on the Bolton cross and teasing you or punishing you till you beg him to fuck you. He just loves to see you give yourself to him. Developing Stockholm Syndrome is inevitable and he just makes you addicted to his touch. And now instead of worrying about your family you just worry if you will be able to satisfy Ramsey. Imagine lying on the bed naked with your legs spread, waiting for him to come and claim you

#hotd #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #hotd fanfic #hotd headcanon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #got imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #ramsey bolton #ramsay bolton #ramsey bolton imagine #ramsay bolton imagine #got fanfiction #got one shot

[taytrashmouth]

Just finished rewatching game of thrones and the Jon snow obsession has been reborn.

This is a long one!

TW: rape, abuse, crying, murder, etc, all normal GOT stuff.

Jon snow x reader.

:readmore:

Looking at the empty walls of the stone cell I’ve been trapped in for weeks I can’t help but feel that these walls of winterfell that I’ve known for so long are no longer the walls I call home. This is a prison.

I pushed myself back against the furthest wall as I heard the keys rattle in the door. The chain around my waist felt heavier than normal.

As the door opened I felt a tear escape my eye…Ramsey

“You’re not excited to see me?” He pouted and wiped my cheek.

I tried to hide my fear and pain and sadness but I knew he could see through my act.

“I’m going to meet with lady Bolton tomorrow.” He sat down in front of me.

I thought about Sansa….I thought about when we were little, how we would sneak into the kitchens after everyone was asleep, how we’d laugh and talk, how we would dance in the snow outside and go for long walks in the snowy hills. She was bigger now, more mature. The last time I saw her was at the wedding…she got locked in Ramseys room and I got locked in a cell. I heard people talk of her escape through the small widow towards the top of my cell, I’d never been that relieved in my life.

Sansa never treated me as her handmaiden, only ever as her friend.

“Her bastard brother will be there too…” Ramsey spoke.

I couldn’t help my reaction, I let out a gasp and tears fell from my eyes.

Jon was alive.

“I want you to come with me to meet with them tomorrow…”

I looked up at him and frowned, there was a catch, Ramsey was insane, he liked to play games.

“You see… I know that Jon cares for you…and lovers should always be reunited at the end of every story.” Ramsey smiled as he touched my cheek, I tried to move away but he held me still.

“But I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a happy ending…” he pouted. “Jon will have to see what I’ve done with you.” Now he smiled.

He began to untie my dress, I tried to move away but he held me down and the chains were too heavy. After not being fed for a week I could barely have the strength to push him off.

He grabbed my hands and held them high above my head as he sucked hickeys into my neck, and put bite marks all over my skin.

Eventually I stopped screaming, I just accepted him inside of me, I cried and looked away, knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of everything that wasn’t Ramsey. Then eventually I didn’t think of anything at all, I didn’t even feel as though I was in the room anymore. I was somewhere deep inside my own mind, somewhere I couldn’t even place.

I felt Ramsey hit me and become rough but I just lay there in the cold cell…hopeless.

When he was done he had his guards unlock the chains around my waist and wrists, and lead me to a room in the castle….Aryas old room.

They locked me in there for the rest of the night I had a bath and scrubbed my skin till it was raw and red trying to get Ramsey off of me…

I put on the dress that was laid out on the bed, it showed off my shoulders and my sides, exposing the bruises and scrapes all over my body. I brushed my hair that had grown a lot since I last saw myself. I tied it back into a braid exposing my face and neck like Ramsay instructed

I looked at my thin figure, I could see my own ribs. I looked awful. I drank the soup that was left on top of the dresser.

And I waited…to see Jon again, to see Sansa.

I walked out of the dining hall to see Jon hitting a training dummy repeatedly with his sword.

“I think it’s dead.” I smiled as he turned around.

He smiled softly, something he didn’t do often. “What am I missing?” He asked gesturing back into the hall

“Ned’s angry because Arya flicked food at Sansa.” I spoke. He laughed under his breath. “So nothing new?” He smirked.

I shook my head.

It was quiet for a moment, the music from inside distant. The air was cold.

I had liked Jon since I was about 10, he often caught Sansa and I in the kitchens late at night and instead of telling Ned, like Robb sometimes did, he would join us.

But I’d never say anything, I couldn’t…technically he was a stark, and technically I was a prisoner, a Greyjoy. Although the starks had never made me feel like a prisoner.

“Why so frustrated?” I asked him.

He looked down at his sword and the blisters he’d caused on his hand.

“A lot on my mind, my lady.” He replied.

“I am no lady….just a handmaiden, My lord.” I spoke back, knowing he only ever wanted me to call him Jon.

He smiled to himself. “Just Jon.”

“Okay….just Jon, may I have this dance.” I asked as the band began to play another song that could be heard vaguely through the closed doors to the dining hall.

“Anything for you, princess.” He spoke slowly and made his way over to you. Putting his sword against the stone walls of winterfell.

“I am no-“ you were interrupted when his finger pressed to your lips. “You are to me.” He whispered.

He valued me, always. He never treated me like less, in fact he always treated me like more, like royalty, like a princess.

I smiled up at him. He placed his hands on my waist and i put mine on his shoulders.

“I must warn you, just Jon I’m not a good dancer.” I spoke.

“I know, I’ve watched you dance with sir Cedric Mormont a few years back, and sir Jamie earlier tonight.”

I playfully smacked his arm and he smiled.

“I’ll tell you what princess y/n Greyjoy…I’m not that good either.” He smiled.

We swayed and laughed when Jon jokingly spun me around, or when I tried to lead. We ran around the castle walls for about 3 hours before lady Katlin caught us.

We both froze when she saw us.

“Sansa was looking for you y/n.” She spoke firmly. Glaring at Jon.

“My lady- I-“ you stumbled.

“It was me! I wanted to try on Robb’s armor, see what it was like, to be a knight. I had lady Greyjoy assist me putting it on-“ Jon interrupted. He never lied, but he was protecting me.

I glanced worriedly at him.

“Typical.” She whispered under her breath, and shook her head. My blood boiled. “Y/n get to Sansa’s chambers immediately, Jon… out of my sight.” She spoke loudly.

I quickly walked off to Sansa’s bed chamber, thinking about Jon the whole way there.

“Where we’re you?” Sansa spoke.

“I’m sorry, I-I was with Jon.” I blushed.

She squealed. “Tell me everything.” She spoke, handing me her hairbrush as she sat down at the dresser.

It was like having a permanent best friend, I was only two years older than Sansa.

I carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair and brushed her copper locks.

“We danced…sort of.” I smiled.

“Was he any good?” She frowned.

“No.” We both laughed.

We giggled and spoke until she had to go to bed. Laughing about Jon and how she was to marry prince Joffrey.

You walked along the empty passages towards the servants quarters. Through the snow covered courtyard. 

I was pulled from the happy memory when the lock to the chamber rattled and Ramsey and two of his guards entered.

I dropped the soup onto the floor, my hands must have been shaking.

“Oh clumsy are we? You’ll need a new dress I suppose.” Ramsey pouted.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Luckily I have the perfect one for you.” He smirked and held out some purple material…open back.

He wanted Jon to see my pain, to see that I belonged to him. I shook my head and tears fell from my eyes.

His guards grabbed my wrists and shoved me onto the bed, i sobbed when they began to tie my hands to the headboard. They ripped away the gown I was wearing and I could no longer see Ramsey, and that scared me more than anything.

“This will hurt darling.” I could hear the smile in his voice. And I screamed and sobbed as a hard whip hit my back, digging into my spine, I felt blood pour down my back.

It hurt again and again, 20 times he hit me, 20 times I screamed and 20 times I did not prey for help, I wished for death.

He left me tied there, facing the wall, bleeding.

I cried for a long time until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Naked and beaten.

The morning was a rush, Bran had fallen from the tallest tower and hadn’t woken up. Lady Katlin was devastated and Ned had informed Sansa and I we were leaving for kings landing tomorrow. He had been offered the position of hand of the king.

He also informed me that Jon was to become a man of the nights watch.

I walked as fast as I could to his room, my dress blowing behind me in the wind. I tried desperately not to cry.

I shoved his door open and there he was packing his things.

As he turned to me I slapped him, hard.

“Were you not going to tell me!” I yelled, the tears began to fall.

He swallowed hard and looked down, and then at me…my face.

“I didn’t know how-“

“Lies!” I screamed, tears falling like snowflakes.

“I love you! And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the one thing! The one good thing in my life! The only thing that matters!” He yelled too now.

You cried harder.

“You are the only thing keeping me from going! But I can’t love you, n/n….I can’t! I’m a bastard, and I refuse to force you to burden that name too. You are going to king’s landing tomorrow, you’ll meet a Duke of something there and you’ll grow old in a castle, and have beautiful daughters and strong sons.” Jon was crying too, he held my shoulders.

“No-“ I shook my head. “I don’t want that…. I love you Jon snow. I will never love anyone else. I want to run away with you, I want to carry your children, I want to grow old with you!” I sobbed.

He shook his head, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“I don’t care if you’re a bastard- it’s a stupid title. Like king or queen it’s just a name. But you’re so much more than that you’re brave and kind, loving, you’re funny and smart and-“ he kissed me, gently but passionately.

For a moment everything made sense. All the stars aligned and the puzzle fit together beautifully.

But then I pulled away.

“I love you.” We stated at the same time, we both laughed lightly.

There was a heavy silence after that. I knew I had to go to kings landing, and he knew he had to go to the wall, to make something of himself.

“Promise me.” I spoke slowly as he held my cheeks. “Promise me when I see you again you’ll kiss me, like you just did, promise me that someday we’ll grow old together. Promise me-“ I choked and he kissed my forehead. “Promise that I’ll see you again.”

He nodded. “I promise.” He knelt to the floor and kissed my hand, “ I promise I’ll come back for my princess.” He spoke.

I smiled through the tears as he stood.

“Promise you’ll write to me…every day.” He whispered as we hugged. I nodded.

“Promise you’ll write back.” He chuckled and nodded against my head.

That was goodbye.

I rode with Ramsey on his horse, my back aching and my lips blue. I was freezing in the revealing dress. Bruises, gashes, hickeys, scars and deep wounds covered my body.

We stopped after a long ride. I saw horses approaching in the distance. My heart sunk, I didn’t want Jon to see me like this. What if he had moved on.

I must have looked terrible because Sansa took in a sharp breath before demanding my release. There he was, Jon…my Jon.

I almost smiled when I saw him, almost.

He looked older, a fuller beard and darker eyes, he was taller. He was handsome.

He looked devastated when he saw me. I looked down at the floor, not seeing the tears fill his eyes.

They debated the war that was to come, tomorrow. And Rickons release.

I began to shiver.

“Give her a coat she’ll freeze!” Jon yelled. His voice was husky and sad. I looked at the anger on his face.

Ramsey smiled.

“Jon don’t-“ I tried to explain it was just one of his games but Ramsey hit me, across the cheek.

Jon’s horse jerked forward as he drew his sword but his men held him back.

And then we rode away, at the perfect angle for Jon to see my back.

Ramsey threw me back into my cell, I cried…I didn’t want Jon to fight- I feared Ramsey would win.

I felt my heart sink…I had imagined seeing him again for so many years and it broke me to know that might’ve been the last time.

Last I saw him he was 16, only a boy. I was 15, a young girl who knew nothing of the world outside winterfell.

I knew not of vicious fighters like sir clegane or horrible woman like Cersei. I wouldn’t have imagined such an unfair ruler as Joffrey. Or such an abusive leader as Ramsey.

I wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing Theon like that….like reek. Ramsey told me he’d to the same to me if I disobeyed him. Another Greyjoy to his collection.

I hadn’t looked death in the eye the last time i saw Jon and yet now I had seen so much of it, it all seemed insignificant.

I heard of Jon’s battles, I even heard of his death. Seeing him again was like seeing a ghost. I wasn’t the same girl he left at winterfell but I had the same heart.

“You’re going to take someone’s eye out.” I smiled across the courtyard as I saw Jon and Robb attempting to sword fight in the snow, they kept slipping on the ice.

“That’s the point my lady.” Robb smiled.

“It’s not that simple.” Jon huffed.

“Can I have a go.” I asked gesturing to their swords.

They both chuckled until they realized I was serious.

“The arena is no place for a lady.” Robb spoke, he looked a bit sympathetic though.

I frowned.

Jon was about to speak until Theon called them to lunch.

That evening when I was lying on my bed I felt something shake me awake.

“Jon?” I frowned in the dark. He nodded.

“Come on.” He pulled me out of bed.

“Where are we going?” I asked but he shhhhed me.

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.” He whispered.

He dragged me out to the courtyard, where he lit a bunch of candles.

I smiled.

“Jon it’s beautiful.”

“Like you.” He responded, both our cheeks flushed.

“You sure you’re ready?” He asked me, changing the subject.

“For?”

“You’re greatest opponent.” He smiled and threw me a sword which landed on the floor in front of me. I smiled.

“Thank you.” I looked at him. He nodded.

He spent the rest of the night trying to teach me how to fight, and by 4AM I could have a basic spar with him.

He quickly blew out all the candles and lead me back to my chambers.

“Was I any good?” I asked.

He nodded as we walked.

“Are you just saying that?” I asked again.

He smiled. “You were better than Theon let’s put it that way.”

I smiled.

Ramsey chained me up and dragged me outside of winterfell with Rickon. We both got a bad hit when I hugged him, I was so relieved he was alright.

I watched as Ramsey explained the rules of his stupid little trick, how rickon had to run across the field to Jon. It was too easy. There was a catch.

I watched as he began to run and I watched Ramseys men began to load their crossbows.

I began to scream. “Nooo! Stop!” I screamed and they hit me, but I didn’t stop, I had to warn him.

Jon began to ride towards his brother… holding out his hand. But there it was, another stark gone.

My own scream was silent in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything as I watched him fall to the floor.

I sobbed. I watched Jon loose his horse and begin to take on an entire army by himself. I screamed again.

I felt Ramsey pull at my chains and drag me back to winterfell. Leaving the battle of the bastards. His war that he wasn’t even fighting.

Leaving the carnage. He took me to the courtyard. He put me on the execution platform and tied a rope around my neck. He explained how if Jon came to save me, the floor would disappear and so would I.

I waited, I saw the bodies pile up through the windows in the castle walls. I watched the giant break down winterfells gates. I smiled and cried when I saw him….just Jon.

“You’re too late.” Ramsey smiled and pointed at me. Jon’s face dropped he was covered in blood.

“No!” I yelled as I watched one of Ramseys men move to pull the lever.

Jon began to run towards me, as a red haired man threw an axe at the soldier. It killed him as he pulled the switch. I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath.

I opened my eyes, Jon had caught me. I smiled as a tear ran down my cheek. He looked at me, examining my face.

His red hair friend cut the rope and jon put me down.

Ramsey began to load his crossbow.

“Jon.” I said and pointed at Ramsey.

His hands left my hips, and I almost missed his touch.

He used some debris as a shield as Ramsey fired arrows at him, he grew closer and closer to him.

I watched as Jon beat him up. A part of me liked that Ramsey would die here, today. A part of me knew it was wrong.

“Stop!” I let out. Jon looked at me and then at Sansa, still punching. And he did, he stopped.

He walked off into winterfell.

I ran across the courtyard to Sansa and we held each other. Tight.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. She laughed.

“Are you?” She scoffed.

We quickly decided Ramsey should be reunited with his pets. He didn’t deserve to live. Not even as a prisoner.

Later that evening I found myself in Aryas old bed chambers attempting to stitch up some of my cuts. I heard a knock at the door and looked up.

Jon.

“Hello.” I spoke.

“Hi.”

I slowly stood up.

It wasn’t long before his lips were on mine. We kissed for a long time, passionately. A kiss that made up for all our time lost.

We pulled away breathless, both crying.

“You stopped writing letters.” I spoke, he smiled.

“You stopped writing back.” He answered.

He hugged me, gently. I hugged him back as tightly as I could.

“You’re taller.” I smiled.

“You’re shorter.”

We both laughed.

He sat me on the bed and helped me stitch up my wounds. He held my hand tightly as he poured alcohol on my back.

We spent hours catching up.

We both sat on the end of the bed, my head on his shoulder.

“I thought you were dead.” I told him. “Twice.”

He chuckled. “You gave me a few scares too.”

“How was the wall?”

“Cold.” He looked down at me. I laughed.

“Is it true? The whitewalkers?” I asked more seriously now.

He sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ve fought them, they’re too strong. I fear we won’t win this battle. But I’ll make sure you’re as far south as south goes-“

“No!” I interrupted, shaking my head.

Tears brimmed in his waterline.

“I’m not leaving again….I just got you back. We’re going to grow old together, remember?” My voice broke. “Even if you’ve found someone else-“

“There’s no one else.” He brushed his hand over my cheek.

“If you fight, I’ll fight.” I spoke.

“You did have a really good teacher.” He stated. I playfully nudged him as he smiled.

“I love you…just Jon, I always have.” I finished.

“I love you too, princess y/n Greyjoy.” He kissed me again gently.

“Snow.” I corrected and he frowned. “Queen y/n snow.”

A smile took over his whole face.

“If you’ll have me, that is? King Jon snow.”

#jon snow #jon snow x you #jon snow imagine #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #ramsey bolton #sansa stark #winterfell

[tinfairies]

most to least likely to have a daddy kink

ps. Ur blog is life xx

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#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagines #hotd headcanon #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #theon greyjoy #robb stark #jon snow #ramsey bolton #tyrion lannister #podrick payne

[eternalvoidseeker]

-Something in Robb’s tone troubled her. She smoothed out the paper and read. Concern gave way to disbelief, then to anger, and lastly to fear.

“This is Cersei’s letter, not your sister’s,” she said when she was done. “The real message is in what Sansa does not say. All this about how kindly and gently the Lannisters are treating her… I know the sound of a threat, even whispered.

They have Sansa hostage, and they mean to keep her.”

-Lady Mormont took her hand and said, “My lady, if Cersei Lannister held two of my daughters, I would have done the same.” The Greatjon, no respecter of proprieties, lifted her off her feet and squeezed her arms with his huge hairy hands. “Your wolf pup mauled the Kingslayer once, he’ll do it again if need be.”

-Robb's fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. "If I could I'd take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There's no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and don a crimson cloak."

Catelyn remembered the twisted little man she had seized at the crossroads inn and carried all the way to the Eyrie. "I should have let Lysa push him out her Moon Door."

Like what the hell are they even talking about anymore. Hopefully Sansa antis wake up one day and realise that nobody but them, will think that a 13 year old willingly married into the family that killed hers. If northern lords believed that women should totally attach themselves to their captors they wouldn't be marching against the Bolton's and trying to save "Arya". None of them are talking how "Arya" probably willingly married Ramsey. They wouldn't hold any judgment for Ramsey forcefully marrying lady Hornwood.

-And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping?

Remember how they think that 15 year old Lyanna willingly ran away with 23 year old Rhegar. Oh wait they don't. But no they definitely will think that 13 year old Sansa willingly married to 26 year old Tyrion+ all the bad things they believe about him.

#sansa stark #anti sansa antis #asoiaf #and I love how they tagged the post anti Sansa like that's supposed to be her fault

[otteropera]

Home (Jon Snow x Reader)

A/N - Only took me, what, like three months to finish this request? I kept coming back to it and re-reading and changing it but I finally FINISHED IT! The wonderful @pastanest requested this one so shoutout to her, if you are thirsting for Jon Snow (like me) GO CHECK HER OUT!!! She is an amazing writer and a wonderful person <3

Warnings - blood, RAMSAY BOLTON, violence... its game of thrones tbh

Word count - 5.7k

The fire had gone out weeks ago. No one who came in bothered to replenish it with wood, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do it, with my wrists chained to the floor. I'd had a lot of time to think about things. About my past, about Sansa, about what led me to this moment, about Jon.

I found that my mind went wandering to him quite often.

Nineteen years ago, after Robert’s Rebellion ended, many reunions were had. Fathers saw their children and wives saw their husbands. It was a sigh of relief for people who had their loved ones taken away, forced to fight the Mad King. My mother waited with baited breath, staring at the horizon everyday for months, praying to all the Gods that she would see him in the distance, finally returning to her. She held her budding belly with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe that she was living in a world without him.

She later passed away on the birthing bed.

If it weren’t for the wet-nurse that was able to arrive so quickly from a town over, I wouldn’t have made it. When word got to Eddard Stark that I was in fact alive, and without parents, he was quick to get me over to Winterfell. I don’t remember my life before the Starks, and I don’t have much of a need to. I befriended the Stark children and was welcomed into their home with open arms. My father gave his life in service to the realm, they felt it was the least they could do. From what Lord Eddard remembered of my parents, they were utterly and wholly in love.

Sansa and I clicked when we were younger. Although I was a few years older than her, we got along very well. We would brush each other's hair and put it in pretty braids, we'd giggle when the stable boys would flirt with us, and she would tease me for my crush on Jon. Once the two of us were of age, I was assigned as her lady-in-waiting. It was sort of like being Sansa's ‘official friend’, which wasn't hard. It really didn't change much; we got to spend all of our time together.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could go back to those days. When we were younger, we'd help sneak Arya out of her room and run down the corridors to the kitchen to steal any lemon cakes that were left from dinner. I was almost certain that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn knew what we were doing, but let us have our fun when they heard the laughter from the kitchens late at night.

"What are you doing?"

Jon stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. Arya, Sansa, and I stilled, crumb-covered mouths tightly shut. I wasn't sure if it was our lack of sleep or the definite sugar high, but Arya burst out laughing, spewing bits of cake over the table, while Sansa and I did our best not to copy her, covering our mouths and stifling our laughs. With my quick and shy glances to Jon, I could tell he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face.

"I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bran."

Bran was notorious for stealing sweets. I hoped that wherever Sansa had escaped to, she got to eat as many lemon cakes as she pleased. It had been months since she got away from Ramsay’s hold, and sometimes I wondered if she would leave me here for good.

It was an awful thing to think, I knew that, but Ramsey knew how to get under my skin (literally) and drill some awful things into my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done to Sansa. Thankfully, he could go days without bothering to torment me, which usually meant that I didn’t get to eat either, but I was more than willing to trade that for some time away from Ramsay. The room that I’d been confined to was small and drafty, from what I could guess used to be an extra storage room for food, with the old flour bags and rotting potatoes. They were my bed most nights. Though I have to admit, it’s a step up from the cell outside with the dogs. Ramsay had been keeping me there until Sansa found out and refused to eat until I was moved to an actual room. She even got me a makeshift fireplace in an old cooking pot.

I was convinced that the only reason I was able to stay sane was by staying in my mind. Thinking of ten years ago, when I was growing up here with Sansa, Arya… Jon. When I was safe and happy and took everything for granted.

There was some irony in it. The place that I grew up in, that allowed me to build the friendships and relationships that I had, that allowed me to be free of the pain of growing up without a family, was then the same place that kept me from being with mine.

The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had chained me here. Ramsay knelt in front of me, placing down a bowl of stew. One glance at it and I was salivating. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, all steaming gloriously in the bowl in front of me. That was… odd. I’m not one to turn down a hot meal, especially when I hadn’t eaten in days, but I knew the games Ramsay played. I knew that there was… something else to it. Ramsay sat on the floor across from me, with that sick little half-smirk.

“It’s rude to refuse food from the Warden of the North,” he commented, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“He didn’t put this in front of me. You did.”

Ramsay let out a dry laugh, not letting his smile fall. I only managed to get that look off his face once, and I paid for it. However, I still found myself accepting the challenge of knocking Ramsay’s ego down a peg.

“I see you’re in a fine mood today, that’s good,” he paused, “I have good news.”

That was saying something, coming from him.

“The bastard is coming.”

I froze at that. It took a moment to realize that that’s what he wanted, he always wanted to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him any satisfaction. I had to stop myself from meeting his penetrating stare.

“I’d spoken to him earlier, along with my dear wife,” his emphasis on the word ‘wife’ made me want to vomit. “They’ll be coming to Winterfell tomorrow to try to take it from me, with lesser men. And when they lose," Ramsay's voice got quieter as he leaned in towards me, "Sansa will watch me flay you living. She will watch me feed you to those dogs, she will watch as you die in that cell, screaming and bleeding. I will make her understand what happens to those she cares about when she betrays me." His pitch black eyes stared into mine as I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t think I'd ever truly, wholly, and honestly wished for someone to die a painful death as much as I wished it for that man. I swallowed harshly.

"Winterfell has never been yours. It never will be," I whispered. He leaned back, loosening up, but his eyes looked empty as ever. And he smiled some more.

“Jon sounded awfully concerned for you.” No. No. “I’m assuming Sansa had told him about your… conditions here.” That was a nice way to put being held prisoner in your own home. “I wasn’t aware that you two had such a history.” I shouldn’t have even looked at him. All the emotion that I was trying to hide, he saw right through. The more I spoke, or acted, or looked, the more leverage he had against me. It was an impossible struggle.

“Don’t worry,” he leaned closer, his breath hot and putrid. There was nowhere for me to go. “I won’t kill him before I let him see you,” he snatched my face in his free hand, his grasp firm and unwavering. I felt the cool tip of a knife rest on my cheekbone. “He will see just how you’ve been holding up.” He dragged the knife agonizingly slow down the bare flesh, I was sure I would pass out. “And he will see all that I’ve done to you.”

I didn’t eat the stew until after he left. The chains rattled as I reached forward for it, slugging from the bowl like an animal. I didn’t like eating while he watched. Something about it felt… humiliating. Like he was watching one of his dogs rip someone apart after not feeding them for weeks, like he was proud of the way he had starved me. I was sure he was. I was sure he would love to see me eating like it was the last meal I’d ever indulge in.

***

Jon was outside the banquet hall, in the courtyard, slashing away at a dummy with his sword. The mead sloshed in their cups as I stepped toward him.

"I think you won," I commented once I got within earshot. He turned around, his face lighting up at my presence just enough for me to notice, causing my face to flush. "I smuggled you out a drink," I outstretched one of the cups, which he took while catching his breath.

"What am I missing in there?" Jon questioned, referring to the dinner party with the King and Queen, taking a slug from the cup.

"Well... the King is drunk, Sansa's gushing over Prince Joffrey, and Arya just got in trouble for catapulting food at her," I explained. Jon chuckled at the thought of it. "So nothing new, as far as our dinners go."

Jon went quiet, surprisingly. He'd tend to have a lot to say when I was around. His gaze was fixed on the cup, lost in thought.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. I've known him to be a bit upset about being forbidden from dinners, but he was usually better at hiding it.

"There's something I've been thinking about, that I want to tell you," he breathed out. "I'm taking the black. I leave the same day as the royal party with my Uncle Benjen." His eyes were on mine. I felt... conflicted. I was happy for him, I knew he'd do well up at Castle Black, given his bravery and swordsmanship. I knew that we all couldn't stay in Winterfell forever, that we were growing up. However, something in me hoped that wherever Jon would go, I could follow. The bastard and the Lady's maid.

"I'm happy for you." Truly, I was. I knew he'd always been worried about making something of himself. He would never have lands or a title, so it made sense he would seek to prove his worth through service to the realm.

"Thank you." There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"From what I've heard I'll be going to King's Landing with Sansa. Serving as her handmaiden."

Jon hummed in response. He seemed to have the same reaction to my news as I had to his.

"I'll write to you," he commented. I didn't even bother trying to hide my growing smile.

"I'll write back."

***

The days were cold, but the nights felt colder. Ramsay sent in a Maester to treat the wound that he inflicted. I was no use to him dead, of course. It was sore to the touch. Through the small, barred window in the room, I could see that the sun was setting, as it did every night, and as it will continue to do well after I die in that place.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the throbbing pain in my face. It felt like it was on fire, which meant that my body was probably fighting an infection from the cut. Looking out my small window, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the clouds, leaving the sky a gloomy, milky gray.

Sometimes, when I was just waking up, I would forget where I was. I could open my eyes and be in King's Landing, with Sansa and Arya and Ned Stark. Or I could be waking up here in Winterfell, but in my own bed, in my own room, right across from Sansa's, how it used to be. Those moments were my favorite. When my mind was still fogged with sleep and I could swear that just yesterday I was reading in the Godswood with Jon. Sometimes I would see how long I could go before opening my eyes. It felt like when I did so, it cemented the pained reality of where I was, and who I was without. It's silly, really. No matter how hard I tried, I would still wake up surrounded by these four walls, in the same house that was no longer a home.

I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next time I rose I was awakened by the sounds of chaos outside. The window in my cell was far too high for me to see ground level out of, even if I wasn't chained. I had to use my hearing to discern what was happening.

The scrambling and shouting of soldiers, and a loud, rhythmic bang... bang... bang. It was coming from the front gate. Was... was it a siege? There was a shrieking of a creature that I couldn't name, and then more shouting and yelling, the clanging of swords. Then it stopped. I held my breath. It felt like ages until I could hear anything else.

Footsteps raced towards the door. I could hear muttering on the other side. There were two very different ideas of who could be coming to me at such a rush, one of which made bile rise in my throat.

"This has to be it, I know that he kept it locked and I remember it being by the kitchens," the sweet, feminine voice rushed out. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Sansa?" My voice was hardly a whisper as I croaked out the name. I jumped when the door started shaking as though it was being kicked in. The chains clicked as I scrambled to stand up. Had they won? Was Winterfell back to the Starks? Was Jon here?

The door burst open and I locked eyes with the one who had been infiltrating my thoughts. He looked much more grown than I'd remembered. His dark, curly locks were pulled back with only a few strands in the front that had burst free. There were streaks on his face where dirt and blood had been haphazardly wiped away. Sansa engulfed me in a hug, pulling me in so tight I was sure she could tell just how little Ramsay was feeding me.

"I'm so sorry it took so long for us to get here, my escape wasn't planned, I would've never left without you if I'd known-"

"Sansa," I cut her off from her babbling, pulling back from the hug and holding her at arm's length. There were tears welling in her eyes, as well as mine. "It's okay, I'm okay." She let out a shaky breath, looking relieved I didn't resent her.

"Ramsay had the key on him." It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, her and Jon's arrival had almost made me forget that I was still chained in the room. For the first time since she'd come in, she acknowledged Jon's presence by turning back towards him. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. To him, I guessed I might be one. He blinked a few times, seeming to snap out of his stupor and reached in his pocket, handing the rusty key over to Sansa. When the manacles fell with a clank to the floor, I felt like I could finally breathe. I rubbed the skin that was under them, it was red and irritated, which wasn't surprising.

"Are you hungry? I'll see what can be made.”

***

"It's for you." A boyish Jon stood at the foot of my bed, on unsteady feet, with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. Even from the distance it smelled heavenly.

"You didn't have to, I was about to go to the kitchens," I complained, sitting up. Jon made his way around the bed, delicately placing the soup in my cold hands.

"Are you feeling any better?" I saw his hand start to move up as he asked the question, only to stop himself. Was he going to feel my forehead?

"A little," I lied, sipping from the side of the wooden bowl. The soup was hot and delicious; it had been prepared with herbs that were still growing outside. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He gave a small shrug but smiled anyway. "I'm just glad to see that you're eating again."

"Me too," I said, trying a spoonful this time. It was potato soup, my favorite. Had he known? Jon sat down next to me before continuing.

"I feel awful." I snapped my head up at his statement.

"Why? Are you feeling ill too?" I stammered, shifting under the furs. He chuckled through his nose.

"No," he sighed, "the stable hands warned me they were still training that horse, but I'd ridden her before and she was fine. I can't believe she threw you off like that, into the stream of all places." I had to suppress a smile, thinking back to the other day. Jon offered to teach me to ride a horse, as no one else would bother, and we'd spent the better part of a day out in the woods. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. Towards the end, my horse had gotten a bit fussy and, well…

Jon was quick to get my sopping wet figure back into the gates of Winterfell, but it wasn't quick enough to stop me from catching a cold. I truly didn't mind. Any time spent with Jon was valuable to me.

"Don't feel bad, it's part of learning... people fall. In streams, sometimes," I muttered towards the end.

Jon's face pulled into a smile at my comment. "Well, let's hope your second attempt at riding doesn't involve a broken bone or two."

***

Potato soup. I was sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in furs, with a bowl of hot potato soup that conspicuously arrived. In that moment I wondered if I truly had passed away at Ramsay’s hand, if that was real, if I was just dreaming, still locked in the room.

I knew that I should eat, but the hollowness of my stomach made the food smell less than desirable. Sansa hadn't left my side since she'd unlocked the chains and brought me into the room, going on about the past few months. I hadn't said much.

"How do you feel? You’re quiet,” she bit her lip. 

My throat hurt, it was dry. I swallowed hard, clearing it before answering.

“Okay. It's just so good to be warm." I had no idea how long I'd been cold. I often stayed balled up in that room, as tight as I could. I tucked my extremities into myself and dreamed of the sun. I took a breath and brought the bowl to my lips.

"Jon was shocked to hear you were still alive." I almost choked on the soup. Sansa smiled, one that looked devilish. "I knew you were close when we were younger, but I wasn't expecting him to react how he did," Sansa thought out loud.

"How did he react?" My curiosity got the best of me. I set the bowl down on the small table next to me.

"I'd told him soon after Brienne, Poddrick, and I arrived at Castle Black," I quirked my head at the names, but she was too consumed in her story to notice, "that you were still at Winterfell. He was furious, he wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him." Sansa looked down, wringing her hands. "I convinced him to wait, to gather more men. Otherwise it would have been a slaughter."

I put my hands on hers, her glossed eyes met mine.

"You did the right thing," I reassured her. I knew she felt guilty for not getting here sooner, but she did what was best. I'd feel worse if they'd come sooner, and Ramsay's threats rang true.

"Rickon-" Sansa choked a sob, "h-he-"

I shushed her and put my arms around her shoulders. I'd seen some Winterfell men carrying his body through the gates on our way to this room. "I know," I whispered, shedding tears of my own. I didn't dare ask her how he died, I knew enough. That it was by Ramsay's hand, without a doubt.

We sat for a while longer, both comforted by the silence. The warmth of the fire and the contentment of the soup helped me relax. I realized that I'd been clenching my teeth, so I released them. I'd been in an awful lot of pain the past few months. The wound on my face would leave a plump scar, that I was sure of. Our silence was interrupted by a few maids entering with warm buckets of water for a bath. The mischievous smile on Sansa's face told me she had planned that. It wasn't until the maids had filled up the tub and left that I got the courage to ask the question that was lingering in my mind.

"Where's Jon? I haven't seen him since..." since I was freed from my cell? Since I saw him for the first time in years? Since he looked at me and his stare penetrated my being?

"I believe he's with some of the men of Winterfell, gathering up any survivors of Ramsay's men in the castle," she replied, giving me a look. She knew why I asked. I could only imagine what Jon was doing to Ramsay’s men "I'll leave you to it," she stood, her long furs flowing down to her ankles. It was then that I realized this room was intended to be mine. "I'm sure a bath is just what you need." I nodded in response, and she swiftly exited the room.

***

Jon hissed and pulled back slightly at the damp cloth I held against his temple.

"I have to clean it, Jon," I pleaded.

"I know," he breathed out. "It stings." I could see the pain in the way he scrunched up his face.

"I’m sorry." His eyebrows scrunched together at my apology, his eyes locked to mine. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Jon and I had a silent understanding of each other. While we had different reasons for being at Winterfell, we were both seen as slightly less-than the Stark children. Of course, I wasn't scolded by Catelyn nearly as much as Jon was. However, we were both instructed to stand behind the Stark's during the Royal family's arrival, never with them. While Jon was told not to attend the feast at all, I was tasked to stay at Sansa's side.

We noticed these differences, we saw them at a very young age, and we protected each other. We looked out for one another in an unspoken pact, that was shown by Jon walking me to my chambers late after the sun went down, and my defending him when Catelyn was always too harsh.

"Jon, I was fine. Those stable boys didn't cause me any harm."

"They were throwing cow shit at you," Jon blurted out. I had to suppress a grin, he was fuming. 

"Well, they didn't have very good aim," I muttered. Jon returned his hardened gaze to the gloves that were clutched in his hand, he must not have found my comment very funny.

"Eddard and Catelyn will have an earful for you, you know. Especially Catelyn." He turned away from me.

"I know," he said quietly, "those boys didn't put up much of a fight," Jon pulled my hand down, and grasped it in his. "I'd do it again." My heart fluttered and I swallowed hard.

***

I recalled the memory in the bath. It was so vivid, his warm hand gripping my fingers, his eyes locked on mine and saw everything inside them. It was the first time he ever offered to defend me like that.

I had scrubbed myself too hard in the bath and opened the wound on my face. I stayed in the water until it turned murky and cold. I wanted to rid myself of every piece of Ramsay, though I knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least, not for a long time. My only motivation for exiting the bath was the small trickle of blood down my face. After drying off and dressing, I exited the chamber and made my way to what used to be Maester Luwin’s space. Surely, there would be a healer of some sorts there.

It was dark outside, the moon shone bright above. A chill breeze blew through the halls. I pulled my furs tighter against me and walked to the door, opening it. There was no one inside. The room was littered with medical supplies, my best guess was whatever Maester was here had been out tending to any wounded men from the battle. Though I'd patched up Arya's scrapes and scratches from playing too rough with Bran before. With the supplies here, I could fix myself up. It took me a moment of fumbling through the shelves and drawers to find a healing balm in a small wooden bowl. The smell of it reminded me of Maester Luwin. His hands were always covered in the minty salve.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall startled me, and I nearly dropped the bowl. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I was almost certain I knew who it was. I didn't waste a moment, rushing to the door and opening it. Jon was standing in front of me, his dark hair smoothed back, the moonlight made shadows dance across his face. He wore a plain black tunic with his cloak over it. The air rushed from my lungs. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, standing there, gazing at each other. But I felt like I could spend the rest of my days looking into his warm brown eyes, and I would be content.

"You stopped writing back." There was a hint of amusement in his words, the type that only someone who'd known him well enough could pick up on. I did.

I didn't bother trying to hold back the smile and the tears as we engulfed each other. His arms felt strong and real. One of his hands held me at the back of my head, pulling me so close to him that there was no room for doubt. His breath felt warm on my neck, sending a dance of shivers down my back. I sniffled, holding onto him with every part of me. We stayed together like that for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, he broke our embrace, keeping his hand on the back of my head, holding it, holding me. "I've missed you."

My lips quivered when I spoke, unable to form the right words. "I... I've missed you too." There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many stories and so many people that I'd met, but he looked at me so intently that words fell flat on my tongue.

He held my gaze and I was sure I'd burst into flames. "How are you?" he asked softly. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides there?" His calloused thumb brushed just below the cut on my face. By the gods, I must’ve been a thousand shades of red.

He'd gained a few new scars himself, his face was littered with them. The little nicks in his skin and the dark shadows of his face made him look so... mature. He was no longer the boy who's cheek I'd pecked before he left for the Night's Watch. "No," I said quietly, wringing my hands. "Nothing serious. Just cuts and bruises."

"That's serious," he started analyzing me, trying to find any, "it's you." I smiled again.

"Come here." He dropped his hand from me, closing the door behind him. I immediately missed the warmth he brought to my skin. I turned to follow him, and saw that he was already holding the bowl of salve. With feather light touches, he began to apply to the wound on my face. It stung at first, if only for a moment, but once the minty coolness took effect, I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized I closed my eyes until Jon placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head sideways to get better access to the cut. When I opened them, they found his. The downward curve of his brow told me something.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice cracked a bit, and I cleared my throat.

Jon shook his head, leaning back against the wooden desk. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wanted to come sooner, but we didn't have the men," his soft brown eyes followed the curve of the wound down my face, "I'm sorry." For a moment, I thought I saw a wetness in his eyes.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "For what? Winterfell is back to the Starks. You did what you had to do."

His expression softened. "I know," he said quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for keeping Sansa safe the past few years." He reached out to brush the hair away from my forehead, and I could feel the heat radiating off his hand. "She told me everything. About Joffrey, Baelish... Ramsey." He spat out the last name with venom as his jaw hardened.

"Is he...?" I didn't need to finish asking the question for Jon to understand.

"Sansa put him with his hounds. I don't imagine he'll be there much longer."

I knew exactly what that meant, and a breath of relief left me, one I never knew I was holding in. Though I'd felt relieved, I knew that it wasn't the end of Ramsay's torment. He would continue to haunt the darkest parts of my mind. I would continue to have nightmares where his touch was everywhere, and no matter what I did or said, I couldn't shake him off of me. I'd only experienced a fraction of what Sansa had from him. I couldn't imagine what she'd been going through. She was stronger than me, that I knew for certain. I made a mental note to talk to her about, at the very least let her know that I was willing to, if that was what she chose. Jon's warm hand on my arm pulled me from my thoughts. He was looking at me, expectantly.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd like me to walk you back to your room," his voice was laced with concern.

I tried not to show how his offer made my heart squeeze. I nodded. We walked side by side through the castle halls, silent except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting around us. Once or twice, we passed another person, but neither of us acknowledged their presence. The silence was nerve-wracking. It didn't take long before we reached my room, a small smile tugging at his lips. I stopped short outside the doors, turning to face him. He was right behind me.

"Was the potato soup any good?" Jon asked, and it took only a moment before it clicked in my head.

"That was you?"

"So it's still your favorite, I take it?"

"I-... yes."

Jon smiled and nodded his head slightly, stepping back. He was starting to leave. A burning ache ran deep inside me. I felt myself longing for him, although he was right in front of me. "Jon..." I paused. His presence was doing that thing again where it made it very hard for me to speak. I needed him to say something. Anything. So when he said nothing, I continued. "Would you... stay, for a little while? Please?" I finished lamely.

It was all the encouragement he needed to step forward and set his hands on either side of my face. His thumb rubbed along my cheekbone and up toward my hairline, making me shiver. His eyes flew back and forth between mine, looking for permission that he always had. He nodded delicately, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was so soft, so gentle, so tentative. But even that small moment made my stomach twist into knots and my knees go weak. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, letting the lingering feelings of the past few months melt away. It didn't matter that there was still so much to be said, so much to figure out and plan with the retaking of Winterfell. Things would melt into place, as I melted into him.

Ramsay had left his mark on me, literally and figuratively. And maybe he would continue to live in the parts of my mind that he clawed out space for, but Jon never needed to claim space for himself. He had it earlier when he kicked down the door to my cage, when he hugged me tightly goodbye the day he left for Castle Black, when he showed me that smile that always turned my insides to mush, and every time in between. All without having to ask for it. He was slowly filling it with warmth, with love. With life. So maybe Ramsay had some part of me, one that I may never get back... but those parts were all Jon’s, and I'd always treasure them.

As his lips moved against mine, I realized I’d made it. 

I finally felt like I was home.

Tags: @pastanest @nyotamalfoy

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow imagine #got fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #asoif/got #asoaif

[in-my-feels-probably]

I just realised I forgot to send a request!! silly sausage hours fr ✌🏻😔

anywho! if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!!

could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please 🥺💗

but, all the same, if this idea doesnt grab you then please do not feel at all pressured in writing it, it’s completely up to you!! no hard feelings 🤗

I wish you the most wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

That’s My Girl

Request: if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!! could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please

Hi! Thank you for the request, I'm sorry for the long wait. This is my first time writing for Jon! I’m hoping this is what you were looking for, but if not. Just let me know and I'd be able to fix it or write you something else. 

I love Jon, I'm happy to write for him. To make sense of the story, the reader is technically a Bolton, and a sister to Ramsey. I set this around season 5-6. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, violence, a fight, mentions of blood and wounds, slight sexual harassment, gross men, let me know if i missed anything)

—

The Wall was not a good place for a woman. That fact, you knew all too well. 

Women weren’t allowed at the wall, regardless of station or reason. This was a fact your family knew, and a fact they ignored. 

You were born to a handmaiden, fathered by Roose Bolton. When you entered the early stages of being a woman, Lord Bolton legitimized you, and sent you to Winterfell to learn the ways of being a Lady. He figured you may be useful to him one day, someone he could marry off for an advantage. 

Winterfell was where you met Jon Snow. He had always liked you. While you were technically a Bolton, you lived more than half of your life as a Snow. You were no longer legally a bastard, but you felt like one anyway. 

Jon knew the feeling, and you became quite close throughout your years, before he left for the Wall and the rest of the Starks left as well.

You lived through the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Theon came and took Winterfell. You received word from your father, and were asked to stay anyways. After Robb’s death, the Bolton’s officially took over the castle. 

Despite your father being named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he was no family to you. You’d never see him as such. Instead, the Northern folk who had lived in the city since the reign of the Starks took care of you, always there to be a friend if you needed them. 

They were your true family. Them, and the Starks, although you hadn’t seen any of them in years. Most of them were dead.

When Lord Bolton died and his position was passed to the newly legitimized Ramsay Bolton, the families that had helped you sent you away for your own safety. 

With you being the last legitimate Bolton, other than Ramsey, you challenged the claim to the North, despite being a woman. The North liked you more, and Ramsay was afraid they’d rebel if he allowed you to live. 

You went to the Wall, seeking asylum. 

You reconnected with Jon, who had recently been named Lord Commander. He allowed you to stay, despite the rules he was meant to follow.

But if he had allowed the Wildlings passage, he could allow you to stay as well. 

To appease the men, you worked as a stewardess, making up for being another mouth to feed and for filling a bed in the single room. The only other empty single room, next to the Lord Commander’s suite. 

It got easier as the weeks passed, and you slipped into a routine that was comfortable enough. 

Sometimes, the men were a little rough with you. It was if they forgot you were a woman, not remembering to be gentler with you. 

Others never forgot you were a woman, keeping their eyes on you at all times. 

This occurred on opposite ends of the spectrum, one end containing men like Jon, Edd, and Sam, and the other containing men like Ser Allister, who hated you being there, as well as the men who wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm. 

You knew those who followed Jon would keep an eye on you, never allowing true harm to come your way, but you still kept your guard up most of the time. In between doing your duties, you trained with the men, learning combat skills. 

It reminded you of the times in Winterfell as children, when Jon would sneak you out of lessons with the Septa to train with him. 

You were quite short, compared to the women of your age. Jon was on the shorter side too, in comparison to other men, but he could hold his own well enough. He wanted you to be able to do the same, so he wouldn’t have to worry as much about your safety.

You had gotten quite good at it, especially with the refresher at the Wall, and you were confident enough that you could handle yourself. 

That didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to. If you could avoid it, you’d try and keep to yourself for most of the day, ignoring the men you didn’t like. But some of them made it quite hard on you. 

“Lady Snow,” Ser Alliser taunted, coming into the kitchen where you were scrubbing pots. “Where’s your Commander? Figured he would’ve sent one of his watchdogs to come guard you, considering he isn’t here to do it himself.”

“He’s just as much your Commander as he is mine,” you replied, not looking up to dignify him with a reaction. 

“That may be,” he said, taking a step towards you. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a growl coming from behind you, and saw a white beast stepping out from behind your legs. 

“You’re right, My Lord,” you said, leaning over to scratch behind Ghost’s ears. “Jon did leave me unattended. Although, I expect a direwolf is as good of a watchdog as any man here. Would you like to test that theory? Come closer, then.”

Ghost snarled at Ser Alliser, making him take a step back. He glared at you, retreating to the door. 

“You don’t belong here, Snow. You’ll come to see that soon.”

“Thank you for that,” you called, returning back to your work. “You can piss off now.”

—

Later that day, much to your annoyance, another group of some of the men tried your patience again. 

It was before dinner, when you had just finished up with your duties for the day. You had just brought Ghost his dinner, and were returning to the hall to eat, when three men cornered you in the courtyard. 

“What do you want?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We want you to go,” one replied, making you roll your eyes. 

The one closest to you nodded in agreement. “We didn’t vote for Jon to be the Commander.”

“You’re lucky you have him—“

He cut you off, his tone more aggressive. “Are we? So far, in the weeks he’s been Commander, he let the Wildlings through our gates. Now, he’s let a girl in.”

“That’s your problem? Ser Alliser almost let the Wall fall because of his own pride,” you spat, growing angry. “He should have listened to Jon when he had the chance. It cost us lives.”

“Us? There’s no us, you’re not one of us,” the man on the right finally spoke. His voice was significantly higher than he looked like he would sound, making you chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” The middle man asked.

“All of you,” you replied. “You’re very amusing to watch. Pathetic, really.”

“Watch your tone, bitch,” the man closest to you said. “Nobody wants to hear your mouth. As far I’m concerned, a woman has two purposes. Popping out kids, and warming my bed. Would you be interested in either?

You raised a brow, clenching your fists at your sides. He smirked, taking a step closer to you. 

“What? Cat got your tongue, bitch? Not brave enough to say something without your useless Lord Commander there to save you?” 

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, swinging and cracking your knuckles across his jaw. You swung again before he could recover, smashing your fist into the bridge of his nose. He faltered back this time, landing on his ass. 

“What?” You smirked, flexing your hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

He snarled, standing up. The other two tried to hold him back, afraid of what would happen if they actually hurt the Lord Commander’s girl, but they weren’t strong enough. He broke through, shaking them off. 

Before you could take a step back, you felt a palm strike across your cheek, stinging the flesh. His ring caught on your cheekbone, cutting a small slit.

You brought a hand up to your face in shock, balling your hand into a fist, but he caught your wrist in the air, squeezing it tight. You gasped in pain, whimpering. 

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked, wiping the blood from his nose.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to pull away. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? What are—“

“Hey!”

You turned your heads across the yard to see Edd standing near the kennel door, Ghost standing next to his side. Ghost snarled, looking ready to pounce. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her go!” He said, bounding towards you. 

You felt the man let go of your wrist, and heard their footsteps retreating as Edd approached you. You rubbed your wrist, reaching down to run a hand through Ghost’s fur when he got to your side.

“Hey, boy,” you muttered, then turning to Edd. “What are you doing? Why’d you let Ghost out?”

“He was pawing at the door, whining, I heard him all the way from the watchtower. He wouldn’t stop till I let him out. He ran out here, and I followed him. What happened, what did they do to you?”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, I’m fine.”

“Your cheek is red and scratched, and your wrist is already bruising. You’re not fine. Jon is gonna raise hell when he sees it. Not that you couldn’t handle your own, but what were you thinking? Three against one isn’t good odds to start throwing punches.”

You groaned, casting your eyes on the ground. Edd sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on, then. He’s still in his office, and everyone else is in the dining hall. I’ll take you halfway, and keep everyone occupied till you’re ready to come back.”

“But—“

“No buts. Jon would have my head if I didn’t take you to him straight away. You’re going.”

You relented, giving him a grateful nod as he led the way. He left you halfway, as promised. You walked the rest of the way yourself, only hesitating when you found yourself outside of Jon’s office. 

Sighing, you went in. 

He was at his desk, his head down. He shuffled through papers, sorting through everything on his desk. You slowly approached, wringing your hands together. 

“Jon,” you said softly. 

“I’m almost done, love, give me a minute.”

You internally groaned, preparing yourself for the painful conversation you were about to have. You spoke again.

“Jon.”

“What?” He sighed, looking up, only to drop his things at the sight of you. “Y/N?”

He hurriedly stood, pushing his chair back and bounding around his desk to stand in front of you, cupping your jaw in his hands. You grimaced as he turned your head, inspecting your cheek more closely. He was absolutely fuming, practically shaking with rage. 

His voice was eerily calm. “Who?”

“Jon—“ You started, but he cut you off. 

“Y/N…who?”

“I don’t even know their names, you’ll have to ask Edd,” you relented. “It was three men. He stopped them.”

“What happened?”

“The same as usual. They don’t like that I’m here, they don’t like that you’re Lord Commander, and they think I’m making it worse for everyone being with you.”

“That’s not true—“

“I know,” you immediately said, sighing. “I know. And normally, I ignore them, or stay calm till they get bored and eventually leave me alone. But this time, I just got too angry. It wasn’t just me they were insulting, it was you, too.”

Jon seethed as he listened to you talk, moving from your cheek to inspect your wrist. The bruise had settled to a garish green.

“He threatened me, and I swung. I don’t know why I did it, but he went down. Obviously, he didn’t take very kindly to being hit by a girl, as you can see.”

“You don’t hit a woman,” Jon said, cradling your face in his palms, gently wiping away the dry blood on your cheek. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them, and they’ll wish they’d never laid eyes on you. The noose is too good for them.”

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to calm him down. 

“I’m alright, Jon. I’m alright. That’s enough, for now.”

He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You ran a comforting hand over his, drawing circles with your thumb over the back of it. 

“You can’t fight my battles for me, darling. You can’t get yourself hurt because of me.”

You shook your head, almost grinning. “Why not? You do it for me.”

“You’re too pretty for scars,” he mused, caressing your cheeks.

“So are you,” you agreed, tracing your finger across the one that had faded to a thin white line, just over his brow. “And yet you fight for me. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

Jon sighed, looking down at you with soft and loving eyes. “So, what did he look like?”

“What?” You asked, shaking your head in confusion.

“The other guy. What did he look like?” 

“Worse,” you grinned proudly. “Much worse. I think I broke his nose. And his jaw is sure to be hurting for the next few days.”

Jon smiled, holding you by the waist and pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in. 

“That’s my girl.”

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry that this is on the shorter side, I hope you still like it. I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader

[bookhousestark]

ARYA STARK APPRECIATION MONTH 2022 ↳ Day 20: Politics

Served Roose Bolton as a cupbearer but didn’t trust his men

She might have been able to trick a Frey or one of the Brave Companions, but the Dreadfort men had served Roose Bolton their whole life, and they knew him better than she did. If I tell him I am Arya Stark and command him to stand aside… No, she dare not. He was a northman, but not a Winterfell man. He belonged to Roose Bolton.

***

Freed the northern lords

"Vargo Hoat's come back with prisoners. I saw their badges. There's a Glover, from Deepwood Motte, he's my father's man. The rest too, mostly. You have to help me get them out."

"I need you to help me get those men out of the dungeons. That Glover and those others, all of them. We have to kill the guards and open the cell somehow—" 

"I want you to save the northmen like I saved you."

A highborn captive of the Brotherhood Without Banners

"We have sore need of horses, milady. Armor as well. Swords, shields, spears. All the things coin can buy. Aye, and seed for planting. Winter is coming, remember?" He touched her under the chin. "You will not be the first highborn captive we've ransomed. Nor the last, I'd hope."

"I do not know who you are, child and it may be that's for the best. Someone important, I fear. In times like these, it is better to be insignificant.”

Political marriage to House Frey

Elmar could be friendly when he needed help, but afterward he would always remember that he was a squire and she was only a serving girl. He liked to boast how he was the son of the Lord of the Crossing, not a nephew or a bastard or a grandson but a trueborn son, and on account of that he was going to marry a princess. 

Ramsey Snow’s ‘bride’ // Valiant Ned’s precious little girl

"Lord Ramsay." The girl dipped down before him. That was wrong as well. The real Arya Stark would have spat into his face. "I pray that I will make you a good wife and give you strong sons to follow after you."

***

Old Whoresbane is only here because the Freys hold the Greatjon captive. And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl.

Executes a deserter of the Night’s Watch

Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night's Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots

And the singer should be on the Wall.

#aryastarkmonth2022 #canonarya #asoiaf #asoiafedit #arya stark #arya stark month day 20 #gifs

[asoiaf-source]

Joffrey Baratheon & Ramsey Bolton

I sometimes imagine just how different the story would be if Joffery were more ‘normal’, or more like Myrcella or Tommen in temperament. GRRM literally made him this sociopath in order for him to be able to kill off Eddard, I think. He needed someone in power (King), who was volatile, wasn’t politically savvy, looking to exert his new found power, and unchecked - ie Joffrey, to get that shocking death moment. I mean if Joffrey was like Tommen... would any of this had happened? Joffrey being a sociopath is a critical aspect of the major events in the story, first he tries to have Bran killed (dagger clue), then attacks Mycah and Arya which leads to a fall out between Sansa and her family, and then he beheads Eddard... all of these moments ramped up the tensions between the families that eventually escalate to war.

I guess I always thought it was a tad ‘convenient’ or ‘lazy’ that Joffery was as sociopathic as he is, he is more than just a spoiled or bully kid with power, GRRM had him torment and kill cats as a child - that is sociopath / psychopath 101, especially by 90s and Stephen King standards. He is still spoiled and enabled by Cersei of course. Might have been more interesting if he was smarter, or older, or just not so conveniently sociopathic, so we can’t easily just dismiss him as a character like we often do with Ramsey as a character. What is there to really analysis, when ‘sociopathic psychopath’ is usually the answer for most of their worst behaviors.  Whether you are born with a silver spoon or a poor bastard, being a morally functional sociopathic (yes, they exist) male in that day and age would be a miracle. Whatever the ‘grievance’ is twisted in the worst way and leads to worst outcomes. 

I will say that Ramsey is an improvement over Joffrey, perhaps because he is older, smarter, more ambitious and calculating character. He feels more effective and threatening an antagonist than Joffery could be, even though Joffrey was a King with ultimate power, he was just too young and thus still manageable to fully exercise it. You hate Joffrey, but never really fear him or what he would do, especially after Tywin arrives to control him.

There are quite a lot of sociopaths in ASOIAF, they are more than just corrupt or classist or bigoted, their behavior is more disturbing. Qyburn, Euron, Gregor and his ‘men’ are a few others that make the sociopathic list, each managing to find shelter under the ‘law’ or a corrupt lord to cover/mask their deviant behaviors, or in Euron’s case just take to the seas where there is no ‘law’. Does GRRM conveniently use sociopaths too much, or is it just a natural that such people would act with less regard to consequences, especially in such a time period... not afraid to take advantage of situations and thus more visible?

I need to think about all the antagonists characters in ASOIAF and how similar/different they all are. Only a few are given POVs so I guess I don’t think about them as much, but it is something different to think and talk about. who are they, who do they work for or against, what purpose do they serve in the narrative... and for some, do they have a point and ultimately are they working for a greater purpose (Varys, Melisandre) like they think they are, or is that just another excuse for callous behaviour and/or plotting?

#ASOIAF #ASOIAF AU #Joffrey Baratheon #ASOIAF Antagonists

[acripplethreat]

Fanfic Masterpost

Here's a masterpost for my more well known fanfics from various fandoms:

Blood and Water (Game of Thrones, Theon/Robb, 4k, Completed) Five times Theon Greyjoy felt like he belonged with the Starks and the time he finally became one in his own right [TW: Referenced child abuse, homophobia]

Sins of Love (Game of Thrones, Theon/Robb, 14k, Completed) Having recovered from the death of their parents, the Stark family is slowly trying to rebuild their reputation as the strongest crime family in Westeros and beyond. They ally themselves in creating an empire, but an alliance with the Boltons spirals and becomes much more than anyone imagined. [TW: Past torture, past rape, dehumanisation, Ramsey being Ramsey, murder (including a foetus), rape in chapter 11, blood]

Cold Hands (Downton Abbey, Thomas/Richard, 7k, On Hiatus) After twenty years of silence, Thomas is thrown back into his family's lives with many consequences [TW: Past child abuse, reference to Thomas's suicide attempt, minor character death]

And The Blood's Run Stale (The Maze Runner, Thomas/Newt, Harriet/Sonya, 2k, Completed) Newt and Thomas haven't been in their hometown for years, not since they packed their bags and left so they could be together in peace. They got married in a Vegas speed wedding, moved in together, built a life for themselves. Now they just need to survive Lizzy's wedding. [TW: Abusive parents, emotional/psychological abuse, mention of Newt's suicide attempt, homophobia]

#the maze runner #newtmas #game of thrones #throbb #asoiaf #downton abbey #thomas barrow #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #Crip's Fics #one of these days I'll write something that doesn't require 5+ trigger warnings #but today is not that day

[shadowcovcn]

... asoiaf

meme // accepting // @harringtontm & @munsontm

Both you and Frankenstein sent this one in. Feels like a bit of a message...can't imagine what kind though...

So I'm familiar with the books as a whole but never read the series in its entirety. The first two books were definitely enjoyable for me so it's not like I have much of an excuse beyond laziness .

My favourite characters from the series aren't the same as the ones I would likely choose to rp. I prefer choosing muses who may need a bit of a facelift. So, anyway, muses I would consider are: Joffrey Lannister, Ramsey Bolton, Rodrick Greyjoy, and Aeron Greyjoy. But I think the one that would inevitably win out is Balon Greyjoy. Messy, morally questionable parents are just my thing. Idk what to say other than I'm a simple bitch who loves drama.

#harringtontm #munsontm #⌈ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ⌋ ➝ (mun.) #ooc / mun.

[zoklaperzys]

all   he   see   is   a   boy.   they   might   be   around   the   same   age   but   all   he   sees   when   he   sees   ramsey   is   a   boy   who   had   been   given   power   and   has   a   desire   to   prove   something.   perhaps,   if   he   was   left   in   the   night's   watch   with   no   news   of   the   north,   he   would've   left   it   all   alone.   unlucky   for   ramsey   bolton,   he   hurt   his   sister,   and   rage   runs   deep   now   when   he   looks   at   him.   he   sees   him   and   recalls   sansa's   poignant   words,   if   he   wins,   i'm   not   coming   back   there   alive.   he   grips   the   sword   by   his   side,   and   those   grey   eyes   seem   to   turn   dark   lilac   as   he   stares   into   the   man.

  if   looks   could   kill,   ramsey   would   be   six   feet   under.   "i   do   not   care   what   you   are   capable   of.   you   hurt   my   sister.   for   that   alone,   i   hope   you   get   to   experience   the   fury   of   all   the   gods,   new   or   old.   and   if   they   don't   strike   you   down,   rest   assured,   i   will.   "   at   his   side,   ghost   growls   in   agreement,   those   red   eyes   of   his   locking   into   ramsey   as   his   next   prey.   theon,   sansa,   jeyne.   rickon.   he   will   make   sure   that   after   this,   no   one   dares   to   take   winterfell   from   stark's   hands.   

@librarywent asked: ❝ i’m capable of things you can’t even imagine. ❞ from ramsay? things catarina de lurton from deus salve o rei said — a sentence starter.

#librarywent #━━ ✷ 〉 answered asks / what did you see when you died.

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Imagine...

Ramsay Bolton with Tyrell!reader. Everyone thinks you are a flower but instead you are the manipulative snake that hides among the flowers. You were sent to North to marry Ramsay and you immediately trapped him by your charm. You intentionally wore a dress with a deep neck cut the first time you met him, his eyes immediately went on your cleavage. You assured him that it doesn't matter to you that he was born a bastard, kissing him and letting him put his hands on your body. You getting undress for a warm bath while Ramsay was speaking a peek from the crack of the door, thinking what he can do to you. You knew Ramsay was not a kind man, in fact he was sadistic but you were certain you can control him.

He gave you a tour of winterfell, sharing one horse so that he can keep you close. At last he showed you his dungeon where the Bolton cross was and some tools for torture. He wanted to see your reaction. Only one thing came to mind when you saw the cross and Ramsay understood it when you pulled him for a hot steamy kiss. On your wedding night he tied you to the cross and cut open your wedding dress. Touching you all over with his rough hands, teasing with with his knife. He love to see you in his control. That night he tied you up in various positions, using you any way he wants, making you beg. He loves being rough with you, his wife, his toy. You love it as well. You encourage him.

If he is in the dungeon torturing someone you go to him. You just think torturer Ramsay is hot. Hugging him from behind, kissing his back and neck as he torture the poor prisoner. If there are blood splatters on him you kiss it away. He would just bend you over right there and fuck you in front of the prisoner. You just know how to keep Ramsay happy.

You are excellent in manipulating him. Convincing him to do something while you are riding him. Encouraging him to put more fear in people. But you truly love him and he loves you. If anyone says anything bad about you they would be dragged to the dungeon and tortured. He became more protective once you got pregnant, but it won't stop him from tying you up and using you and you don't want him to stop either

#hotd #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #hotd fanfic #hotd headcanon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones headcanons #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #got imagine #got one shot #got fanfiction #ramsey bolton imagine #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsey bolton #ramsay bolton #ramsey Bolton x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay Bolton x tyrell!reader

[evilwizardmusings]

Imagine how much could have been avoided in house of the dragon and game of thrones if they had access to psychiatric medications? All Alicent Hightower needs is a bit of zoloft and this whole thing could have been avoided. Ramsey Bolton? Seroquel

Cersei lannister? Trazodone

#gameofthrones #house of the dragon

[ericanoelle]

What if Domeric Bolton was betrothed to Sansa before he died?

Please note I am aging Sansa a bit for the purpose of this story.

So, I had to do some research on Domeric Bolton because it had been awhile since I've read the books. Domeric was Roose Bolton's legitimate son, Ramsey's bother and Roose's heir. Ned and Roose would have made the betrothal when they were very young, hoping to med the feud between Bolton and Stark. Much like Brandon and Catelyn, Sansa and Domeric would have spent time together once the betrothal was made. Domeric was said to be a good horsemen, played the harp and was very well read. He would have been a few years older than Sansa but they would have gotten along very well. Domeric would spend time at Winterfell sometimes and I think given that Domeric is a Bolton, Sansa's personality would have been less naive.

When Sansa is about fourteen, Roose comes to Winterfell to announce that Domeric had died. He says a fever took him and Sansa is distraught. She had known Domeric and thought he was going to be her husband. However, Roose is able to get Sansa alone for a moment and lets slip that he believes that his bastard son, Ramsey killed Domeric. Now, Roose is VERY against kin-slaying so he wouldn't outright kill Ramsey, but he isn't above planting it in someone else's head.

I imagine that Sansa, during her grief, would have found a way to poison Ramsey. I think she would want him to die the same way her beloved Domeric did. Not sure how she pulled it off but I think it would have taken some plotting (maybe a year or two) but lets say she did and no one, except maybe Roose, suspects her. Seeing that this is what Roose wanted, he says nothing.

When Sansa is about seventeen, Jon Arryn dies. When she hears that it was a fever that killed him, she is suspicious but says nothing. The events of the King's visit to Winterfell all happen and Sansa and Joffrey are betrothed to one another. Unable to stop comparing Joffrey to Domeric, she finds that while Joffrey is more handsome and next in line to be king, she finds everything else about him lacking. She is rather cold to Joffrey and they get off to a bad start.

It does not take long for Sansa to notice his cruelty especially to her.

When they arrive in King's Landing, Petyr notices Sansa right away. Not only because she looks like Catelyn but he pinpoints that she isn't exactly as noble as her father. Since Sansa and Joffrey are about seventeen, their wedding date has been set. However, Joffrey has become abusive and while Sansa is good at hiding bruises, she begins to confide in Petyr...even telling him that she was responsible for Ramsey's death. I think that Petyr also tells her that he had Lysa poison her husband. She also tells him that she figured out about the affair between Cersei and Jaime, and wants out of the marriage. So, the come up with a plan and during so, they begin sleeping together.

At the wedding between Sansa and Joffrey, Ned giving Sansa away, with Catelyn and Robb attending the wedding, she poisons Joffrey's wine at the feast with the Strangler that she got from Petyr. He dies and both Robert and Cersei are there to see his death. Even though Robert didn't care for Joffrey, he still believed that to be his son. He would go on a rampage to find out who killed him.

Robert would try and arrange for Sansa and Tommen to be engaged but Cersei would be convinced that Sansa is cursed, as two of her betroths have died. The prophecy of a younger and more beautiful queen ringing in her ear, she tries to pinpoint the murder of Joffrey on Sansa, which both Ned and Robert claim that she is innocent. Fearing that Cersei was on to her, Sansa tells Robert that she learned of Cersei's affair with Jaime, and while she does not know who killed Joffrey, that is why she is trying to pin it on Sansa- to cover her own tracks. This leads to Robert falling into a rage. He kills Cersei, Jaime and the kids, despite Ned pleading for Tommen and Myrcella to be spared. This angers Tywin, obviously and war begins.

In the midst of all this, Petyr is VERY proud of Sansa in starting this war and their affair continues.

After the war and the dust settles, Tywin having lost because there is not many kingdoms that would be willing to back him, especially if Robert is still alive. Robert announces that he is going to marry Sansa, which doesn't fit with Renly's plans on having Robert marry Margaery but once the king makes up his mind, there isn't much anyone can do. Ned, who also opposes the match isn't able to do much.

Sansa is less than thrilled but Petyr tells her that it would be best for her to go along with the marriage, for now because she discovers that she most likely is with child, Petyr's child. Sansa marries Robert and the marriage is consummated. Given that he wouldn't hate her as much as Cersei, I don't think he would be as cruel to her or force her into anything. Plus, she is Ned's daughter and that would mean something.

So when she announces that she is pregnant, everyone suspects that its a wedding night child. However, both Sansa and Petyr know who the real father is. Ned and Catelyn stay for the duration of the pregnancy, as does Robb, simply because he has caught Margaery's eye. Those two marry when Sansa is about seven months along and go North.

Sansa gives birth to a little girl and seeing that the child has dark black hair, everyone assumes that the child is actually Robert's. They name the girl Princess Jocelyn Baratheon. Soon after, Ned and Catelyn go North, leaving Sansa with Robert. Her marriage isn't all that bad. He does come to her bed occasionally and does get her pregnant. She gives him a son about a year and a half after Jocelyn is born. They name him Prince Steffon Baratheon. Robert and Sansa stop sleeping together but they still dine together on occasion, as Robert would like Sansa more than his first wife. Robert, of course, sleeps with everything that walks.

Meanwhile, her affair with Petyr continues. At Steffon's one year birthday celebration, Sansa discovers she is pregnant again, but knows that its not Robert's- who has stopped coming to her bed now that she gave him a son. So, her and Petyr devise a plan that during the celebrations, Sansa slips him a poison, much like she did with Joffrey and Ramsey but this one mimics a heart attack.

Since Robert's death is ruled a natural death, no one suspects Sansa; especially when she announces that she is pregnant. I think some people would raise eyebrows, given that two other men she was betrothed to died and some of the kings guard would know Robert didn't come to her bed anymore but they also knew that they dined together often enough that its possible they had sex.

Steffon is named King despite being no older than a year. Sansa is named Queen Mother and his Regent, along with the Small Council. Ned is appointed Hand of the King, which he accepts because its his daughter and grandson. Plus, with Robb acting as Warden in the North, having his own wife and children, he is more comfortable leaving the North in his hands. That and he doesn't suspect murder this time and if more focused on actually ruling. Stannis isn't too pleased with this, as he had been hand during Sansa and Robert's mariage, but to make up for it, Sansa gives him Storms End, stating that it was rightfully his to begin with. Renly isn't too thrilled with the outcome but decides there isn't much he can do, since its clear that at least Steffon is Robert's son.

Sansa gives birth to another girl, whom she names Alayne. When Steffon is about six, Ned states that he doesn't want to be Hand of the King, wanting to retire North. Sansa of course accepts this and appoints Petyr as hand. Given that Petyr and Ned became "Good friends" during his time on the small council, with both Robert and Steffon, its not surprising.

Its not until Steffon is around fourteen that Petyr and Sansa marry. By this point, I think Ned and Catelyn both would have passed away from natural causes and Jocelyn probably is betrothed to someone, possibly someone from the Reach or even Dorne. No one is really surprised at the marriage, as it became obvious that the pair were close, and given that all three of Sansa's children looked towards Petyr as a father figure. I think Sansa beleived that she was done having children, as she would be around thirty four but she has a surprise baby, a boy, that they name Symon Baelish.

#Petyr Sansa #what if

[agentrouka-blog]

"When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, “I’d skin you alive for a cup of wine, girl.” -Arya(ASOS XIII). Maybe I am imagining but it seems like another Ramsey-f!Arya reference. An abuser, reference of Hound, skin one alive, Arya etc. Also there is mention of Sansa's sister being sold to Boltons previously in this chapter.

That'd certainly work as foreshadowing for the Jeyne Poole plotline in ADWD. :(

While it's clear right away that the girl sent North is not Arya, it is not officially confirmed in the text that she is Jeyne Poole until Theon meets her in ADWD Reek II.

#arya stark #jeyne poole #foreshadowing

[breaniebree]

About Crouch Jr psychopath personality did you inspire on someone from another series?

Hi, @nuninho2000

Every writer is inspired by another in some way. I can't pinpoint exactly his personality, but I do imagine his creepy sing-song voice is very similar to Rumplestiltskin from Once Upon A Time.

I also rather imagine him as a mix of Dark Willow

And a little bit of the Gnarl

Definitely a bit of a mix from the kids are all right episode of Supernatural and a little bit of some creepy serial killer vibes from a mix of crime shows, and yes, I have watched Game of Thrones, so I'm sure a bit of Ramsey Bolton too (though that's not my first thought).

Hope that helps!