#ser jorah x reader

[charliedawn]

GOT characters x Reader

"Please. Dance with me."

Sandor Clegane :

Sandor was standing near the exit—ready to call it a night. He was tired of seeing all those high borns dancing and getting drunk on expensive Dornish wine. But when he was about to leave, he felt an arm wrap around his and looked down to find you—clinging to his arm. He was about to ask what the hell you were doing when he noticed how terrified you seemed.

"Please…Don’t let him take me."

You were on the verge of tears. He looked in the direction you were staring at and found some lord with a sleazy smile on his face. He was walking your way and Sandor instinctively raised his hand to clasp it on your arm.

"The lady’s taken. Piss off."

He felt you tense up next to him, but his hand on top of your arm kept you in place as the man decided to finally leave. Once he was gone, you wanted to thank him…But, Sandor pulled away and walked away.

…He needed a drink.

Daenerys Targaryen:

When a man offered you a dance, you smiled and tried to politely decline the offer. But, the man wasn’t having no for an answer. Finally, he grabbed your arm as you were about to leave. Fortunately, Daenerys arrived just in time and stood between the both of you.

"I believe she has been quite clear. She doesn’t want to dance with you."

The man was about to protest, but quickly reconsidered. He left and you let out a sigh of relief. But, as you were about to thank her, Daenerys turned towards you with a soft smile before offering you her hand.

"Would you like to dance with me instead ?"

Her hand was opened invitingly and her eyes showed nothing but good will. So, you took her hand with a smile.

"I would be honoured, khaleesi."

Ser Jorah :

"Would you dance with me, Ser Jorah?"

Jorah looked up at your hand and was about to politely decline your offer when he noticed your uneasy smile and the other man standing a few feet away behind you. He immediately understood the situation and smiled before taking your hand.

"It would be an honour, my lady."

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled before being led away. You swayed left and tight slowly together and even though Ser Jorah only wanted to dance to help you—he found himself enjoying it as well. You closed your eyes and didn’t even think about your 'problem'.

You just enjoyed the dance until the very last moment when you had to part.

"Thank you."

Whether it was you or him who said it first—neither of you could tell.

Brienne of Tarth :

Brienne had just won her final battle for the tournament organised by your father. She had put to the ground many of your father’s best knights and when her face was revealed…You were immediately impressed. A woman of such strength on your side would surely end in a successful alliance.

So, you waited.

You waited and when it was time to celebrate, your eyes landed on the fiercest woman who had succeeded in defeating most fighters of the court. Her eyes didn’t settle on you however.

You felt a little disappointed by it, but the night was far from over. You tried again and again to get her to see you, but she always seemed to escape your sight. Finally, you decided to give up and sit down. But, you then felt a hand land on your shoulder and when you looked up, you found one of your father’s choices staring down at you with a malicious smile.

You tried to tell him no. He ignored your request.

But, he finally listened when the woman you had been trying to talk to suddenly appeared behind you in all her armoured glory. She didn’t need to speak a word as the man immediately released you and walked away.

"Are you alright, my lady ?" She asked you and you replied with a smile of your own.

"I am now."

Jon Snow :

Many people had warned you about Jon Snow. Some called him the King of the North—others a demon. You weren’t really interested in rumours though, but by the truth.

Hence, you had accepted to go and meet with him.

A war was brewing and you knew that strong allies were necessary. However, when you found yourself in front of the man who claimed to be Jon Snow, you immediately knew it couldn’t be him. The man before you couldn’t possibly be the King of the North. He wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t heavily armed. Or looked like a living dead. He seemed…normal.

"I am Jon Snow."

"..."

You looked him up and down.

Before he could say another word, you threw a dagger at him and he didn’t even flinch as it landed in a tree behind him. You both stared at each other for a minute until you finally smiled.

That man was Jon Snow.

For you saw no fear of death in his eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, my King." You introduced yourself and bowed before him. "…The man who danced with Death and survived."

Tyrion Lannister:

"No."

Tyrion was aware of your situation. He knew perfectly well of the unfortunate circumstances of your upcoming betrothal. But…He couldn’t bring you even more dishonour by agreeing to dancing with you.

"Do not look so disappointed, my lady. Even though I am sure you are quite lovely, I wish you to spare yourself the humiliation of dancing with an imp."

Such harsh words which ignited a general hilarity that made you red in the face with fury. But, not against Tyrion. You didn’t blame him for his refusal. You knew how it sounded and the pain behind such a request. But, you didn’t want to give up. So…You did something that no person had ever dared. You knelt before him—your eyes staring at the floor in respect.

"I see no imp. I see a valorous and just prince. And I still wish to dance with you. Please."

It made the crowd around you fall silent. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he seemed speechless for a while. But, he finally smiled before slowly reaching for your chin to lift it up so your eyes may meet.

"…Don’t you lower your gaze. You hold more bravery and wit than anyone else in this room. And if that is truly your wish ? Then I would be more than happy to dance with you."

Jaime Lannister:

You were sitting down when you felt a presence in front of you as you ate. Your eyes looked up to find your ‘fiancé'. He was looking at you with such disgust that all food got stuck in your throat. You knew it was but an arranged marriage, but everyone knew that your betrothed hated your family with passion. Your eyes glanced away and met with another man. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

Unfortunately, your betrothed caught the exchange and suddenly grabbed your arm—ready to strike. But before he could as much as lay a finger on you, the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat.

The room fell silence as none other than Jaime Lannister had come to your rescue.

"I believe this is no way to treat a woman—even less a lady."

He then sat down next to you and smiled before eating next to you—an arm wrapped around you. The message was clear. And the man left.

"…You will get in trouble for this." You warned him, but Jaime replied with a cocky smile.

"I am a Lannister. And lions are not scared of insects."

Oberyn Martell :

You were trying to leave the party. This was too much. A man was persistently trying to get a dance with you, but you didn’t want to dance with a man who surely did not care about you. You were almost there when you collided with another man who grabbed you before you could fall to the floor.

You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw who it was.

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne…" You gasped and the man gave you a small smile before looking behind you at the man following you.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady ?"

You gulped and suddenly took his hand. If you were to say anything, your father would blame you.

"Please. Would you dance with me, Prince of Dorne ?" You asked and the man following you seethed.

"You were promised a dance with m—!"

"I believe the lady asked ME for a dance." Oberyn cut him off with his usual charismatic smile. "Unless your title happens to also be Prince of Dorne."

The man huffed before walking away and you let out a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when Prince Oberyn grabbed your wrist.

"Now now…Where are you going, little sunflower ?"

You frowned in incomprehension until Oberyn smiled again and pulled you flush against him.

"…I believe you owe me a dance."

Peter Baelish (Littlefinger) :

Lord Baelish had had your eyes on you for a while and he knew that being part of your powerful family would be extremely valuable. Hence, he asked your father for your hand. But, there were too many contenders for him to even be considered as a good choice. So…He observed you.

You were young, but promising as you danced with grace and proper etiquette with all your possible choices. But, he could see right through you. You weren’t exactly happy to be here. And when one of your possible betrothed stepped on your foot.

He stepped in.

He took your hand and almost pulled you away from the man. You were about to thank him, but Baelish had other plans.

"What will you give me for my rescue ?" Baelish asked you. You sighed. Of course he’d want a reward for acting like the hero he wasn’t.

"What do you want ?"

Baelish seemed to think about it before offering you his hand with a smirk.

"A dance."

Your eyes stared at his hand suspiciously. But, at this point ? You would have accepted anyone’s help in order to escape. He pulled you flush against him and started dancing with you. Your eyes widened as he led you away to the center or the room.

He knew everyone could see the both of you, but he didn’t stop—not even when you tried to pull away.

"Lord Baelish…That’s enough."

Your father tried to stop him, but Lord Baelish only smirked before surprising everyone by kissing you. Your eyes widened and you were momentarily took off guard. When he pulled away, he smirked before glancing challengingly at your father.

"Now…About my wedding proposal ?"

Sansa Stark :

"My lady…Would you please give me the chance of a dance ?" You asked Sansa who hesitated for a moment before smiling and slipping her hand in yours. You smiled before kissing the back of it and led her to the dance floor. Sansa had always wished for someone to take her hand and make her feel like a princess.

She had first thought Joffrey to be the one, but that felt like eons ago. She had long learned her mistake. But, it didn’t mean she didn’t still wish for someone to make her remember what it felt like when her innocence and virtue were still recognised.

And you were more than happy to make her remember who she used to be.

"You are beautiful." You told her truthfully and she smiled.

She even graced you with a small chuckle as you made her twirl and made sure not to touch her that might trigger her in any way. After her awful treatment under Ramsay, you only wanted her to feel at ease. At peace.

And she knew it.

When she looked at you and a smile graced her lips—your heart seemed to skip a beat.

The pretty wolf was still a stealer of hearts, and you couldn’t wait for her to devour yours.

#sandor clegane x reader #fandoms #got #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #ser jorah x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #jon snow x reader #jon snow #tyrion lannister #tyrion lannister x reader #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #peter baelish x reader #littlefinger #sansa stark #sansa x reader

[springdandelixn]

Show Me Love

—Jorah x F!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Jorah ends up failing his quest to search for the princess and take her back to the feast in the Red Keep.

Warnings: 18+ content, oral (m receiving), Jorah is a whore haha

A/N: Because today is Thursday, I’ve decided to make a THIRSTY drabble for our favorite simp boii.

Even if this is simply a drabble, your likes and comments are highly appreciated. Tell me what you think of the story for it helps me a lot as a writer. Your reblogs will help this story flourish further. And as always, I hope you guys enjoy! ♥️

Jorah’s hand clamps tighter on your shoulder, his head thrown back in pure bliss on the back of the chair and muscles tensing when you take him into your mouth once more. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his bare thigh while the other presses down against his abdomen which ripples in desire.

He never imagined that his search for you around the Red Keep would end up with him groaning in pleasure as you sucked down hard on his cock. He only thought about taking you back to the feast where the guests from the noble houses were wanting your attention, yet here he was, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, shrouded in ecstasy, chest heaving as he felt a tug at the pit of his stomach.

“Princess—” He groans, but the words he wanted to say drown in his throat, whispering your name instead in the humid air that slowly fills his chambers.

Your mouth pulls back, only keeping the tip of his cock within when a garbled moan escapes his lips upon feeling you suck harder on its head. His cock stiffens, throbbing against your lips and he reaches down to wrap his fingers around the base to stop his release.

“Princess, please—” He begs.

But you don't relent. Your hand pries away his own before replacing it with your deft fingers, stroking his shaft while your tongue swirls and licks on the tip, spreading the saltiness on the pad of your tongue, humming at the taste of him.

He chokes when he tries to speak, tries to protest that a princess should not take a man’s seed in her mouth but all sense of decency drifts from his head when pleasure rolls through his body, his spine, shivering as he feels the tug in his stomach once more.

His hand reaches over to cup the base of your head, eyes blowing wide in lust as he pulls you back down on his cock, having you choke and gag around him when he hits the back of your throat. He grows feral, hungry even when your eyes shoot up to meet his. Relishing the look you give him as he urges you to take more of him, to suck on his cock like your life depended on it. His other hand reaches to cup the side of your face as he moves to thrust his hips at a faster pace.

“You look so beautiful with your lips around me.” He growls and he watches as your eyes shine with unshed tears, chanting your name in whispers when you plant your hands against his thighs and meet him halfway, your muffled moans filling his ears and adding to the pleasure that builds within.

“You’re so perfect, princess—” He praises, throwing his head back once more when you pick up your pace, feeling your saliva pool against his inner thighs. His hand grabs a handful of your hair when he feels himself reaching his limit. Releasing an animalistic growl, he pushes you down, burying his cock fully into your mouth and spilling his seeds down your throat.

He curses lowly and pants heavily, his chest heaving as he slowly climbs down from his high. Another moan escapes him when you pull away from his cock with a thick ‘pop’ after swallowing his essence, a light giggle erupting from you before taking him fully once more, milking him dry.

“Ser Jorah?”

Panic surges in him when he hears the voice of his queen from beyond the door, quickly leaning over to you on the ground, pulling himself free from your mouth and pressing a finger to your lips, signaling to be silent.

“Are you alright, Ser?” Daenerys asks once more. “Why did you leave the feast in haste?”

He clears his throat before he speaks. “I’m quite fine, your grace. I’ve just not been feeling well and I wanted to rest before it turns into anything serious.”

His eyes dart to you when you roll your eyes at him, a playful smile gracing your lips when you move to straddle his lap.

“Liar.” You whisper against his ear and it takes all of his strength to stop himself from kissing the smug away from your lips.

“Shall I call for the maester?” Daenerys asks.

“You need not worry, your grace. I’m sure sleep will do me some g—good.” He stops the groan from escaping him, his hands grabbing tightly on your hips to stop you from rubbing your clothed cunt against his exposed length.

“Good night, your grace.” He says in finality before wrapping his arms around you, your legs locking around his waist, lifting you as he stands from his seat, and walking towards the door to make sure it's locked from within.

“What if my sister comes back and asks for your help to look for me, Lord Commander Mormont?” You ask teasingly, rubbing a finger against the scruff of his beard, a grin on your lips, making Jorah groan as he walks you to his bed. You giggle when he lays you down on the feathered mattress.

“Then pray to the seven that she doesn’t, my love, for I plan to keep you here til the morrow.” He smirks as he runs his hand up your thigh, pushing up the skirt of your dress before leaning down to claim your lips with his.

#Jorah Mormont #Ser Jorah Mormont #Jorah x Reader #Jorah x Female Reader #Jorah Fanfiction #Jorah Fanfic #jorah mormont x reader #jorah mormont x female reader #smut fic #jorah mormont au #jorah au #game of thrones au #game of thrones #coconut bun stories

[shadeysprings]

Wilting Blossom

—Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: Trapped in the dungeons, the Lord Commander comes to make a bargain.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, coercion & entrapment. There may be more but thread carefully as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Four Challenge: Across the Universe. I started this event with Jorah and I feel it was only right to end it with him. GOT is one of the universes I love to dabble in and Jorah, if you know me, is the one that holds my heart.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

With your hand outstretched, you try to catch the rays of the sun as it trickles through the small window of your cell. You bask in what little warmth it offers, the heat kissing your skin and slowly staving off the cold emitted by the stone walls that surround you. 

But just as quickly, you pull your hand back and push yourself against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest and shrouding yourself once more in the darkness when you hear the dungeon doors open. Heavy footsteps echo through the narrow hall, guards shouting and banging against the bars that confine you and your fellow prisoners, who in turn, retaliate by shouting curses in their wake. 

The tension in the air then thickens when you sense the band stop by your cell, their presence imposing and looming. 

“Unlock it.”

You stiffen and huddle closer to the wall when you catch the familiar timbre of Lord Commander Mormont amidst the low rabble of the dungeon. The sound of keys jingling and the lock going undone, your chest constricting in fear as the hinges of what keeps you separated from them creak as it swings open.

He’s the reason you were thrown into this purgatory. His profession of mercy when he stands beside the Targaryen Queen proves false when he gave no chance to hear your apologies. Though, deep down, you know you’re just as much to blame as he is. 

“Wait outside.” He instructs one of his men. “We are not to be disturbed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” Another familiar voice responds, Ser Jaime Lannister’s, but you hear nothing more than retreating steps and the pounding of your heart as you’re left alone with the leader of the queensguard.

His footfalls are slow and measured, akin to a predator circling its prey. You hide your face from him, not wanting to see the demon clothed in fine gold. 

“Don’t hide from me.” A command and you contemplate doing as you’re bid but he makes his impatience known when he nudges you with his boot. You swallow thickly as you tilt your chin up, taking in his tall stature as he towers over you, his golden armor glinting against the light of the sun and his sapphire eyes burning with devious desire as he stares down at you. 

A silent gasp then leaves your lips when he crouches at your level,  “How was your stay here, thief?” He asks, a smirk forming on his lips and you divert your eyes away. “Cold isn’t it? You’d rather be out in the sun?” His tone makes your blood start boiling, anger burning in your chest as he taunts you with freedom.

But your chest quickens when he reaches behind him, your arms instinctively shielding yourself as you expect him to pull out a dagger and give you your sentence right there on the muddy floors of the cell. Yet, the blow doesn’t come, instead, you hear him chuckling, mirth present in his voice and you peek through your arms to see him holding out a loaf than a weapon. 

“Take it,” he urges. “I know you’re hungry.” You stare at the offered food, stomach growling at the sight. “This will taste better than the slop they feed you lot down here.” His voice is calm yet calculating all the same, but all at once soothing, if you’re to be honest with yourself. 

Hesitation fills you, eyes shifting from the loaf and then at him. For you know there are more creative ways to kill a peasant than to throw them under the blade. 

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.” The Lord Commander chuckles and rips a piece of the bread before tossing it in his mouth.

As soon as he finishes, parting his lips to expose the empty cavern, you snatch the fare from his grasp and bite into it with greed, the spongy texture tickling your mouth and settling your hunger, humming a moan at the taste. 

Ser Jorah laughs once more, his eyes light with amusement as he watches you feast. “There’s more where that came from,” He coos, and you watch him closely when he shifts to near you, keeping the bread to your lips in fear of him taking it away. “Maybe some meat and cheese, lemon cakes too, if you wish. Wouldn’t you want that?” You feel your mouth water as he lists down the items, your stomach rumbling once more. 

“I can give you so much more, petal,” He continues, your body going rigid as dread crawls up your spine when his gloved hand reaches over to caress your arm, the blue pools in his turning darker and you hear his breathing grow heavier. “A warm bed, a full belly, a better life.” The knight breathes, “And you need only give me what I want in return.”

“And what is that?” Your voice comes out in an instant, startling both of you, the Lord Commander’s grin widening at your question. 

“You.”

Your brow furrows and the anger from before returns in a burst of flames, throwing the half-eaten loaf at his face and quickly pushing yourself from the ground and making your way out of your cell.

But such an attempt of escape is fruitless; Ser Jorah easily recovers from your pitiful attack and grabs you by the ankle, making you fall to the ground and cry in pain and soon in fear when he crawls over you, gasping when the length of his arm pins your shoulders to the muddy ground.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts and laughs as you struggle against his hold, nails scraping on the cobblestone floor as you try to get away from him, but you choke when his arm slips to the back of your neck, weeping uncontrollably and begging for his mercy upon feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt. “Disobedient girls don’t get that privilege,” Hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans closer, crushing you with the weight of his armor. “They are left to rot in cells while men come and go as they please, to rape them, torture them even.”

“Ser—” You cry, “Please—”

“And I would hate to see a pretty flower like you be ruined, watching your petals wilt away.” Your lips tremble when he presses his nose against your hair, disgust blooming at the pit of your stomach when he rolls his hips, feeling the erection in his breeches press against your ass. “But I am a forgiving and generous man, and I can save you from such fate.” He slowly eases off of you and you groan when he flips you to your back, only to pin you down once more with his arm over your chest. 

You lock eyes with him, your mind swimming in the words of the Lord Commander, drowning in them for you know them to be true. How whispers fly across the city of women taken into captivity, treated like whores, and leaving with either a babe in their belly or hanging at the center of King’s Landing.

But should that alone be the drive for you to take his offer? A life of servitude to the knight? A bed warmer? You regale in the thought and realize it makes no difference if one man or several take you against your will because all the same, you’re nothing but a thing to be used, an object to the eyes of the nobles and ones of power, keeping you bound to whichever hell they see fit. 

You’ve heard stories of the Lord Commander, the once Lord of the northernmost island, knighted by King Robert himself at the Siege of Pyke. How he was exiled to the neighboring country for his misdeeds yet found back his honor at the side of the Dragon Queen. 

They said he was a just, merciful, and honorable man, but what you see before you are anything but, for there is no mercy dripping from his tongue nor honor looming in his eyes, only hunger for the flesh—your flesh—and greed for control over the ones who have none.

Still, you are nothing compared to him; a peasant of the city—no power or riches to bargain for your freedom.

“So, what will it be, thief?” He asks, looking up into his sapphires with fear as you decide and give your answer.

That was but a year ago, the dregs of the dungeon are now washed away by the cool waters you’re allowed to indulge in the vast chamber. Your rags, replaced with sheer silk dresses—luxurious as they seem, they give you no sense of decency as they expose everything underneath. But food is no longer scarce, one you treat as a blessing yet such gifts are nothing but a tether to your new prison. 

You sit by the plush chaise, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that hold the fortress of the Red Keep filling your ears while you watch the strong winds blow against the sails of the ships that come in and out of the capitol. You can’t help but long to set foot on the sandy beaches once more, to bask in the freedom you once knew before being found by the Lord Commander himself stalking in the royal kitchen.

You may have simply been surviving in the past—fleeting through the narrow walk of Flea Bottom and rummaging through the wastes of the highborn for something to eat—but, at the least, you were free.

The door of the chamber swings open and you immediately stand from your perch, folding your hands at your front as you watch Ser Jorah walk in, his golden armor glowing in the afternoon light and you swallow thickly when he flicks the lock within. 

His eyes meet yours and your spine tingles in fear when you see the hunger within them. He unties the belt holding his sword from his waist and hangs it by the hook at the side of the door before slowly walking over to the chaise, measured hand pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the plush surface. 

“Wine.” He says after dropping himself on the settee and you quickly reach for the jug on the table in front, kneeling as you pour a generous amount into the goblet. 

With careful hands you hold it out to him, giving you a smile before taking the cup from your grasp and holding out his hand to you in return. You take it and follow his lead, standing between his parted legs before settling yourself on his thick thigh when he nudges you to sit. 

He then lifts the cup to his lips, taking long and heavy gulps with some of the red liquid spilling from the sides and clinging to his golden beard. As soon as he finishes, he leans forward to set the goblet on the low table before focusing his attention on you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rests on your knee, kneading it before caressing the expanse of your thigh. 

“How are you while I was away, little flower?” He asks, “I hope you weren’t too lonely.”

“The view of the sea kept me entertained, Ser.” You murmur, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you flush against him. 

“I bring you good news then.” He drones, shifting you on his lap and you grab his arm when he presses your back against his plated chest, hooking your knees over his and spreading your legs wide when he parts his. “I sail for Dorne in a fortnight and I’m taking you with me.” His voice is low, whispering against your ear and your chest tightens when he bunches the skirt of your dress over your waist, shivering, skin tingling when his hand skims over your inner thigh. 

“A m-most generous o-offer, Ser—” You mumble, your other hand gripping his wrist as you try to push him away, gasping as an aching need bloom at the pit of your abdomen when he finds purchase of your cunt and rolls a finger against your sacred bud. “But p-people will s-see—the queen—” The words die on your lips when he quickens the movement of his hand, your lips parting, mouth hanging open as you try to catch your breath. 

“I care not of whispers,” He growls against the crown of your head, and you gasp sharply when he slips two fingers past the folds of your weeping blossom. “Everyone should know who it is you belong to.”

He clutches your waist tight, keeping you pressed to him as he fucks you desperately with his hand, the walls of your cunt stretching wide at the thickness of his fingers and the soreness from the night before burning within once more along with the fire of your unwanted desire. 

Words of pleas for him to stop linger at your lips but never leave, your legs shaking as your arousal spikes, your cunt slickening further, allowing him to thrust deeper to his knuckles. His arm on your waist moves, but only to frame his fingers around your neck, turning your head for you to face him and capture your lips to pull you into a heated kiss. 

He swallows your moans, devouring every sound you make and your stomach quakes, making you pull away from his lips when you let out a silent scream as pleasure crashes over you, your eyes blowing wide and gasping heavily when you shudder at your release, coating his fingers with your essence. 

Deep chuckles emit from him and you tremble when he slips his digits from your cunt, your walls clenching on nothing and your mind protesting against the longing of your body. You pant heavily against his chest, daring to peek up at him when you hear him produce such lewd sounds and watch him slip his fingers into his lips,  licking them clean. 

“Such a sweet nectar from the sweetest flower.” He drones and you whimper when he gives your lips one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before staggering forward when he pushes you off of him, holding onto the small table to keep yourself from falling to the ground

You hear him shuffle behind you, sounds of clasps being undone, and you startle when he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand before nudging you towards the bedchamber. 

“On the bed, petal.” He instructs, “I’ve given you pleasure, and it’s your turn to return the favor.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

Also, I just want to thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @navybrat817 for hosting this event. It was truly such a joy to write with the themes you've set and I've met such amazing and talented people along the way.

#jorah mormont #ser jorah mormont #jorah mormont x reader #navy and roo's sleepover #dark jorah mormont #dark!jorah mormont #dark fic #wilting blossom #iain glen characters #iain glen imagine #jorah mormont au #game of thrones au #shadeysprings fics

[jossilyn-embereth]

Hello! If requests are open, may I please request some headcanons on what being married to Ser Jorah Mormont would be like?

Being Married to Jorah Mormont Would Inclcule

Having met him in Westeros long before his original marriage. The two of you were quite taken with one another, but you were already promised.

Not seeing one another again until you ended up at his wedding. Where he learns your marriage was called off.

Finding out years later what happened with Jorah and his family, and the crimes he committed, wishing you knew where he had gone, and accepting that you may never see him again.

Being promised to another man, but you decide to leave instead of be married off, so you run away and find a ship to take you to Essos, where you know you’ll never be found.

Making a good living on your own, seeing as the small fortune you had brought with you was able to support you while you got your bearings. You start your own business and set of shop in Mareen.

Eventually Daenerys makes her way there and frees the city. You are called upon for your services and are escorted to the castle.

There you see Jorah in the throne room, at the right hand of the Queen. As soon as your business is done he comes to see you. You catch up and walk around the city for hours.

You admit that you’ve missed him, and that the stories you hear about him have changed your opinion of him somewhat. He agrees that he did something horrible, and explains to you why he follows his new Queen, and the ways he is trying to be better.

In the coming weeks he comes to visit you constantly. You fall for him all over again, and can’t help but be slightly jealous of his protectiveness and loyalty to his Queen.

Confessing feelings for one another after a long night of talking by the water.

Becoming close with the rest of his new friends, especially Dani, who was ecstatic to find out Jorah had a significant other.

You asking for his hand in marriage, and when he seems surprised you make a joke that neither one of you are good at being single at the same time, so you should take the chance while you have it.

Having a small wedding with just your friends (seeing as neither of you have any family)

Moving to the palace to spend more time with him.

Romantic nights

Missing him during the fay when you both have work.

Coming to the agreement that children should be off the table for the time being, seeing as Jorah would soon be off to war at Daenerys side

Being completely heartbroken when Jorah’s treachery is revealed, wondering now if any of what he said about being better was true.

Letting him leave Mareen alone, and going to Daenerys for comfort, knowing she would understand your heartbreak.

Staying with her all night, comforting one another.

Nearly breaking when Jorah returns and reveals he has contacted Greyscale

Learning from Tyrion that he talked about you non-stop on the journey. Of how much he loved and missed you, and how he would get better so that he may return to you

Joining Daenerys for the journey to Westeros, with the intention of seeing your family’s support for her claim

Feeling both overjoyed and conflicted when Jorah arrives on Dragonstone, because although the man you love is alive and well and back in your arms, he still betrayed you and your Queen.

Eventually being convinced by Daenerys to give him another chance, after she tells you she has all but forgotten his past misdeeds. You take her words as permission to no longer care about his mistake.

Going to him that night and saying nothing, just holding him in your arms until the sun rises.

Telling one another all that had transpired while you had been apart

Him expressing a desire for a family once the war is over. You being happy to hear it, and agreeing wholeheartedly

Learning just before the journey to Winterfell that you are pregnant.

Telling Jorah, feeling nervous because it was still a bit soon to have the baby. The war might not be finished by the time you must leave his side, but he is only full of joy, and so you try not to worry

Being sent away from Winterfell for the battle against the dead, because he refuses to put you and your child at risk

Knowing from the moment you lay eyes on Daenerys that the father of your child is dead, and that the son or daughter you carry is all you will have left of him

#ser jorah #jorah mormont #jorah x reader #game of thrones #GOT #jorah x daenerys #daenerys targaryen #preference #imagines #would include

[springlibrary]

Home Masterlist

Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: You and Jorah are enjoying a peaceful night in your home when a knock on the door surprises you both and shakes the peace you know. Sequel to Lobelia Siphilitica.

Warnings: violence, pregnancy, more to be added as the story progresses.

Part I

Part II (coming soon)

#jorah mormont #ser jorah mormont #jorah mormont au #jorah mormont fanfiction #jorah mormont fanfic #jorah x reader #jorah x female reader #jorah mormont x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones au #jorah fluff #coconut bun stories

[dannyboy-writes]

Of thrones and dragons

Daenerys x male Dragonrider reader who's from ulthos? I will probably make a part to of this who knows

Ser Jorah had told Daenerys tales of Ulthos’ weather. The thick jungle.

Trees taller than she had ever seen and the murmur of wild creatures bristling her skin. 

Countless thoughts running through her mind. But one most present. She should’ve brought Drogon with her.

Click.

A broken branch? A booby trap? Or something else?

“Nobody move,” she whispered, raising an eyebrow at Greyworm.

A bright orange ray shone above them. Almost like sunlight.

Definitely warmer.

“Maybe he wasn’t a myth,” Missandei spoke softly.

Suddenly the beast dropped in front of them, with the Unsullied unpacking their spears, and Daenerys tensing all her muscles. Bracing herself.

Dark green scales covered the entirety of your dragon. His face stoic and with gritted sharp teeth. 

He was breathing slowly, Daenerys noticed. Calm, deep breaths.

But his eyes were focused on her. 

And not only his’, she realised. 

You dismounted softly from your beast, ignoring completely the army in front of you. Their spears were sharp and in your direction. 

Every soldier was looking at you more menacingly than the last.

Your eyes however, were focused on her.

Long, pale hair, with braids as long as her waist. Falling completely over her back.

Her eyes were inviting, but there was a tint of worry. Of uncertainty.

You shifted your eyes towards your beast, caressing his side slowly until he calmed with you.

“Are you y/n?” She asked.

Quickly your eyebrow raised in your forehead. “Who are you?”

“I’m Daenerys, of house Targaryen. Blood of Old Valyria.”

“And what brings you to the wilds, your majesty,” you mocked.

“I’ve been searching for you for some time. I was starting to believe you were a myth.” She stopped. “Or a ghost.”

“Ah,” you smiled. “And what’s to say I’m not.

“Terrible dangers lie in this land. Untamed beasts and whatmore.” You grinned.

“And tamed ones?” 

“Oh, yes, those tend to be the worst. But don’t worry, Wildfire here won’t do you any harm,” you smiled, patting your beast. “Nor will I.” 

She smiled and called down her army. “I am in search of a dragon rider, some people called him the best and mightiest of them all. I’ve heard tales of the riders of Uthos.”

“Oh, did you? What did you hear if you may?”

“I heard the forests of Uthos had beasts so swift that their scales blended in with the greenery. And their riders had unmatched skills. Like nothing ever seen in the entire world.”

“Yes, that is true. And why would you need a dragon rider with unmatched skills.” You asked, “Blood of old Valyria you said, you’re supposed to have dragons as well. Although your kind faded with time, I assume the dragons remained.” 

“Sadly, no.”

“Whoever told you that is a liar, and you a fool for believing them. Dragons will outlive us all. Just as we outlive birds, and them ants. It’s the way of the world.”

Her face went stoic. “Will you help me in my quest to conquer Westeros, y/n?” She inquired.

You laughed, “Why would I, I don’t give a damn about Westeros. I don’t even know you, for all that.”

“You could have a throne,” she offered.

“I have a throne, or do you see me taking you to speak with someone about this? Why would I want another one? And one so distasteful.” You grabbed a stone from the ground throwing it lazily, “Why do you?” 

#daenerys imagine #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys targaryen x male reader #daenerys targaryen x reader

[esther-dot]

The problem with Daenerys is that she sees issues from a purely black-and-white perspective. She stops Mirri from being raped and acts as if that’s the complete solution to her problem. Daenerys acts as her savior and insinuates that the rape victim she “saved” much be grateful. However, upon having her people murdered and ravaged, Mirri tries to get back at Drogo. But she doesn’t even really contribute to his death, as we know that Drogo died of his own infection that he refused to treat (he also refused to follow Mirri‘s advice on how to treat it). Sure, she apparently kills Daenerys’s infant, but I doubt that’s even true. Mirri explicitly announces that no one must enter the tent while she’s performing her magic. Yet Jorah and Daenerys enter anyway.

And even if this isn’t true, Daenerys herself believes that Jorah killed her son since he didn’t listen to Mirri and took her into the tent, yet it is Mirri she burns alive.

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. “The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah,” she told him. The knight made no reply. (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

You know, you're right that there's a distinct pattern of misapplying or refusing to accept guilt when it suits her. While her feelings may be alleviated by "saving" people,

"She will do no harm." Dany felt she could trust this old, plain-faced woman with her flat nose; she had saved her from the hard hands of her rapers, after all. (AGOT, Daenerys VII)

Perhaps Dany needs to reconsider what put them in that position in the first place, and whether it might actually have been Drogo and her choices, her war, that ruined their life,

"Saved me?" The Lhazareen woman spat. "Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved." "Your life." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

And I think the reader should be alarmed that while Dany thinks she's saved a life here, she promptly turns around and takes it:

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. "I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

I suppose this is similar to her freeing people but the situation being so bad they’re desperate enough to want to sell themselves back into slavery and instead of that being a wake up call about the results of her choices, telling Dany she hasn’t done what she thinks she’s done, Dany decides to take a cut, to profit off of their suffering.

#dot chat #anti daenerys

[themotherofhorses]

- last of her house no more: I

Series Summary: She was born to Daenerys Stormborn and Khal Drogo on the Dothraki Sea, the youngest of their dragon brood. Known as the Seven Kingdom’s Delight, she trains with swords and arakhs, studies philosophy and history, and takes immense pride in the woman she is becoming. But her life is forever changed when she comes face-to-face with her long-deceased Green ancestors, including the man the maesters refer to as the one-eyed kinslayer. Now, this princess faces a future not even her mother could foresee in her dreams

pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

warnings: none.

main masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

Chapter One:

Targaryens

It was nearing the early afternoon sun when the young princess parted Winterfell for King's Landing.

Waving goodbye to the Starks, she held tightly to Drogon's scales as he took to the sky, massive wings stirring up the surrounding snow and dirt of the land. Throwing one final look over her shoulder, she spied a look of awe on Arya's face and smiled. She greatly enjoyed the second youngest Stark's company and would be counting down the days until their next gathering.

It would be some time before she arrived home. Dragons were faster than horses and ships, but still, a great deal of the day would be stolen during the journey. Drogon was a fast flyer and smooth like the summer winds. He also despised the cold and would be sure to put enough distance between them and the North as quickly as possible. From that hour onward, she allowed herself to get comfortable, stretching her arms and legs and laying her head down close to him. It was her favorite thing to do while on dragon-back. This way, she could hear her eldest brother's heavy breaths as he glided across snow-capped mountains, farms, and riverlands, and then the bluest waters.

Small fish, of hundreds of colors, leaped out, maybe to greet them, and a few fishermen paused to watch them sail overhead.

These were the reasons why she enjoyed flying, this young Targaryen princess.

It was exhilarating and peaceful, unlike no other thing in the world. The old maesters in the Citadel would never be able to truly record it in their scrolls. Her mother was the first dragon rider in over a century, and she became the second on her sixth name day, when Drogon grew large enough to be ridden and allowed her to climb on his back. As a gift, he took her to see the nearby lands, where great elk and bears and direwolves, as well as other creatures, wandered in the woodlands. When they returned, Ser Jorah said she reminded him of Rhaenys Targaryen, the sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror, and how she rode her she-dragon Meraxes. But her ancestors used saddles and ropes and horns for holding onto, and the princess had no such thing.

Her mother would not allow it. Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor, Daenerys Stormborn would remind her every time they mounted the dragons. A dragon is not a slave.

"Drogon, do you feel different?"

She had suddenly felt a tug in her chest, not but a second before. It was strong, with some pain. It lengthened over her ribs and up to her heart, almost choking out a breath within her throat. Drogon chirped but made no other noise. The tug felt weird. As if it was trying to tell her something. But as soon as it arrived, it left her body, and she was left feeling fine but confused. "Something felt wrong, but only for a second. Maybe it is the cold? We are not used to it, after all," she decided.

But it was no longer cold around them. The snow clouds fell apart for blue skies long ago, and the sun god followed the two closely. She rested her head against his blackened frame and closed her eyes. She thought about the previous conversation she had with Sansa and Arya Stark.

Would you ever take a husband? They asked her over hot tea and baked delights. There are plenty fine Northern men; perhaps a marriage between one and our Targaryen princess would strengthen our alliance. Sansa leant closer, and said, After all, the North remembers, with a wink.

The sun god was closer to the land, and farther from his woman wife the moon goddess, when King's Landing appeared below them. The smallfolk were bustling in the streets as the two broke from the clouds and flew overhead. Some stopped to watch, craning their heads to catch the slightest glimpse of their Delight, while others cried out, tossing their hands up towards her. A few laughing children raced after the dragon's shadow, trying to touch it.

Adjacent to the Red Keep was the private courtyard, large enough to fit three dragons. It had been around since the years of King Viserys I's reign, almost two centuries before the princess's birth, and was used for their own dragons. Several nearby kingsguards stepped back as Drogon landed on the cliff overlooking the yard. Ever the largest of the dragon brood, Drogon favored making an entrance wherever he went. He screamed a piercing screech that rattled the close walls and chariots and left some of the knights clutching their ears before descending downwards. The princess held on tightly, jerking forward to meet his movements. Off in the distance, two similar roars rang. Rhaegal and Viserion. And to the side, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan stood watching them, and to her front, her queen mother entered the courtyard with Missandei and Tyrion rearing behind. She failed to take notice of the strangers hanging back towards the Red Keep's doors.  

Drogon touched his shoulder towards the ground, and she slid off with great ease.

"Welcome back, princess. I trust your journey was both safe and pleasant?" Ser Barristan asked.

She smiled as she ran a gentle hand up Drogon's neck to his face, receiving a purr in return. "Peaceful as usual," she said, slipping her gloves off with her teeth. "One day, you ought to join me in the sky. I believe Rhaegal or Viserion wouldn't mind treating you to such magnificence." He laughed, shaking his head, "Thank you, princess, but I am quite content in staying on the ground."

"And you, Ser Jorah?"

Ser Jorah smiled as well, "I leave the sky to you Targaryens."

Both men were uncles to her, having watched her mature from a small babe following her mother's conquest for the Iron Throne to the proclaimed heir of the lands. And she loved them dearly for that, though they never took her invitation to ride. "But I believe your mother is nearing, princess. It seems as though she has come baring us some news."

She turned as Daenerys came upon her, dressed in a long black gown. Their house sigil was embroidered with scarlet stitching on her chest, and her long silver locks were held together with multiple, elaborate braids and a three-headed dragon pin. "Hello, mother!" she called out, moving to greet her with a hug. She smelled of rich spices and the pretty perfumes the merchants sometimes sold by the docks. Despite being gone for no more than two mornings, she missed her. "House Stark sends their regards and best wishes."

"And how is Lady Sansa?" Tyrion asked, coming to stand next to them with Missandei.

"She is well! In fact, she was the one that received me when I arrived, next to Arya. Showed me how her people are faring; I am afraid they are prepping for yet another harsh winter, but that is nothing new for the North. Perhaps we can visit them before the season ends?" She looked at her mom, who smiled and nodded. "That would be wonderful."

"Maybe we should send her next time to broker with the Baratheons and Lannisters?"

She glanced at Missandei, who had said that. "I have just returned home, my dear aunt. Please allow me some time to rest and prepare myself to be fed to the lions."

They shared a laugh, and Tyrion shook his head with the shadow of a grin. "Has anything changed while I was gone? Ser Jorah said you come bearing news?" Her mother seemed hesitant, a worrisome glint in her lilac eyes. And it was then that she noticed the Red Priestess standing only a few feet away. Such was an unusual sight; it made her remember the feeling she felt while returning home. Something has happened, she thought. I fear something is indeed different. "Red Priestess Kinvara," she bowed her head.

"Hello, princess," Kinvara smiled. "It is a lovely sight to see you again. I take it you have been well?"

"Yes, Priestess. The Gods continue to bless me with good health and fortune, and for that, I am thankful."

Beside her, Daenerys shifted and took her daughter's hand in hers. "I am happy you have returned today, daughter, and in good spirits and health as well. Kinvara, in her graciousness, has brought several…guests for us to entertain, my dearest love."

"Guests? Oh, if I had known, I would have been home sooner. My apologies.”

Kinvara angled her body towards the Red Keep's door. “Do not fret, princess. You had no way of knowing. I believe no one did. Consider these guests a gift from the Lord of Light.”

The princess followed her gaze to a family settled at the steps, clustered around each other as if cattle. From the light of the setting sun, she saw that three of them were silver-haired, like her and her mother. The other two wore green and were stiffed in their posture, and had features that marked them not of her noble house.

“I do not understand,” she said, confused, looking at her mother. It made her remember the times Tyrion would join her at the table whilst she studied history. The two quickly discovered they were quite fond of the war between Aegon II Targaryen and his half-sister, Rhaenyra. Many days they sat over scrolls and notes regarding Aegon the Usurper, his sister and queen consort Helaena and their mother, Alicent Hightower. And of their damned brother Aemond One-Eye, the Kinslayer. Long deceased before this time.

She did not understand.

Standing before her were her ancestors, the ones belonging to the days of the Dance of the Dragons.

notes: everyone say thank you to my dear sweet lovebug @dothrckis, who is helping me with this series and is quite literally the backbone.

tag list: @dothrckis @dudfahsn @xcharlottemikaelsonx @animusxy @nsainmoonchild @rosaryos @xceafh @winxschester @trshngyn @aemcndtargaryen @hightidelowmood @theroyaldixon @hotleaf-juice @sustisama @filmelunar @brezzybfan @khaleesihavilliard @averagethottie @babyblue-chaos @nomugglesallowed @letsloveimagines @queenofterrasen418 @persephonesportal

(if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, please let me know. if ur name is crossed out, i was unable to find you to tag! message me so we can fix it :)) reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated <3)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #house targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #daenerys targaryen #mother of dragons #game of thrones #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[livingdreams97]

Daenerys Targaryen -- "The rightful heir." (part 5)

Daenerys Targaryen x Male reader/oc

Summary: Tiryon Lannister asks his queen for a favor: to help his missing nephew in a questionable way and just as his sister; Cercei proclaims the iron throne. The favor is to save his nephew and create a union between the heir of the House Baratheon and the mother of dragons.

Words: 3.839

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Daenerys POV

I stand on top of the wall, looking down at the lush, snowy forest on the wild side of the wall. I watch the beginning of the forest with hope, hope that a miracle will happen and Y/n will appear from the trees unharmed.

But with each passing minute, that hope disappears more and more in the icy breeze from the wall. And while the hope inside me diminishes, the guilt increases replacing that feeling full of positive possibilities.

I knew I shouldn't have let him come with me. I knew I shouldn't have been impressed and allowed him to fly over Viserion. There is only one person who deserves to be blamed and that is me.

The only thing left for me to do is thank Y/n for his sacrifice in putting himself at risk and saving one of my children. Because I don't know what would have happened if Viserion had suffered the same fate as Y/n.

Because not only would I have to mourn the possible loss of the one who was going to be my husband and the man with whom I was falling in love with. The most sensitive, affectionate, fun and bold man I have had the pleasure of meeting in recent weeks. But also the death of one of my children, the most sensitive and trusting of the three of them.

I watch my son fly over the area, squawking and crying for the loss of Y/n. I let out a sigh full of pain and sadness, knowing that if I were a dragon; I would be doing the same.

Jorah: We have to go, majesty.- I listen as my old friend and protector tells me.

Daenerys: A little more.- I ask looking at the beginning of the forest with the little hope that I have left.

I am not the most believing person, especially after everything I have lived and everything I have seen. But praying won't hurt me and hope is the last thing to lose.

So I pray to any god or entity that listens to me, to make Y/n come back to me and be healthy. That's all I ask.

I wait a few more minutes, seeing no change, and decide that I can no longer wait for a miracle. All hope within me disappears and I feel my eyes burn with reality.

The reality that Y/n is dead and I will never see him again.

I turn around, meeting Ser Jorah's sympathetic, sad gaze. I walk straight ahead, brushing past him and stopping when he doesn't follow me. I turn my head to look at him, when I hear a trumpet and Viserion's squawks.

I walk quickly back to the lookout, immediately seeing a horse walking towards the entrance of the wall and carrying someone.

My heart begins to beat wildly inside my chest, at the possibility and the hope that Y/n is on that horse.

I turn around again, walking quickly and almost running to get down from the top of the wall. Wanting to get to the ground as soon as possible and verify the person's identity.

As soon as I get to the courtyard of the black castle, I see how two people are lowered off the horse and a tear slides down my cheek without being able to avoid it. I feel tears of relief slide down my cheeks, when I recognize the clothes of both people and distinguish them as Jon and Y/n.

I run to the unconscious body of Y/n, who is being carried by some men and placed on a stretcher.

Davos: Hurry up, take them to the ship's cabins quickly.- He orders moving quickly along with the rest of the people.

I run after them, climbing onto the ship following the stretchers and feeling Jorah on my back at all times. They put Jon Snow into his cabin first, but I keep walking and follow Y/n's stretcher.

Once he is placed on the bed in his cabin, Jorah enters the room and helps the other two men undress him, while I watch from the doorway.

My worried gaze travels over every part of his body and every bit of skin that is exposed as they remove his hard and icy garments. I look carefully, trying to find signs of bruises or visible injuries. From my site, I can't see or appreciate anything.

But it's not until he's flipped over and his back is exposed that I see the real damage to his body.

His entire back is covered with a large bruise, of different shades and colors. Although I don't think it's the worst, but the wound that runs through his arm from the elbow to his shoulder.

A worrying blue wound, similar to when a part of the body begins to freeze and lose all blood supply. And the pale blue veins surrounding the wound are also worrisome.

Jorah: Your Majesty better come out for this.- He spots me, as they turn him around again and prepare to take off his pants.

Daenerys: I'll be in my cabin.- I nod in agreement. -Let me know when you have cleaned and cured him.- I order and leave the cabin closing the door behind my back.

I walk towards my cabin, keeping an impassive and serious face before the eyes. But as soon as my back hits the inside of my closed cabin door, I collapse to the floor, letting out the tears I've been holding back.

I cry thanking the gods for listening to me and bringing Y/n back. For giving me another chance with him and being able to do things right this second time. I cry with relief and happiness that Y/n has come back to me alive.

Because even if he is injured, wounds heal and only scars will remain in their place.

POV You

Before I even open my eyes, I can feel everything around me; including my body shake. I try to open my eyes, feeling my eyelids heavy and as if they are glued to not open.

As I try to open my eyes, I realize that I am face down and that my head is resting on something soft.

I open my eyes just a few inches, noticing the wooden wall in front of me, the dim lighting of the candles in the place and the pillow under my head.

I feel the warmth and softness that something on my back causes, while in my right arm I feel the opposite. I feel an intense cold in the area, the same cold I felt when the spear of the white walkers grazed my arm.

I am also aware of the pain in my arm, more specifically in the area between my elbow and shoulder.

I try to sit up, immediately regretting it as I feel a sharp pain in my back and let out a grunt of pain in response.

Daenerys: Hey don't move.- I hear the whisper of her voice near me in the room. -Your back is very bruised.- She whispers again and I feel how the warmth of her hand is placed on my forehead. -You're burning.- She comments with a hint of concern in her voice.

Y/n: What happened? - I ask confused, since my last memory is falling from Viserion and then an icy cold wrapping my body.

Daenerys: You fell from Viserion and I don't know how you ended up on a horse with Jon Snow heading for the wall.- I listen to how she answers me and I manage to open my eyes, finding myself with the silver-haired woman sitting next to me on the bed.

Y/n: And where are we? - I ask still confused with the whole situation.

Daenerys: On my ship.- She answers me with a slight smile and slightly reddened eyes. -We are on our way to King´s Landing, for the meeting with your mother about the truce and to ask for her help with the walkers.- She explains me better and I can only let out a sigh.

Y/n: Can you help me sit down.- I ask in a low voice, feeling uncomfortable with the position and with a slight discomfort in my neck.

Daenerys: Sure.- Nods in response. -But slowly, yes?-  She tells me with a serious tone and I nod in response.

I feel her place her hands gently under my armpits, trying her best to help me roll over and sit up. With some difficulty and some pain on my part, I manage to sit up on the bed.

In this position, I can see my surroundings much better and I can better appreciate Erys's condition.

Y/n: Are you okay? - I ask a little worried, seeing the dry marks of tears on her cheeks and understanding the reason for her red eyes, and a little watery.

Daenerys: It's me who should ask you that question.- She comments avoiding the question. -It is you who has fallen from the back of a dragon from a height of more than twenty meters and been submerged in icy water for who knows how long. – She comments with worry.

Y/n: I know.- I assure her with a slight nod of the head. -But clearly something has affected you and I'm worried about your condition.-  I assure her, stretching my hand towards hers and wrapping my cold hand with her warm one.

Daenerys: It's nothing.- She denies, downplaying it and fixing her gaze on the union of our hands.

Y/n: Of course it's something.- I say immediately. -It is clear that you have cried and nobody cries for nothing.- I defend my question and concern for her condition. -So I repeat again. Are you okay? - I ask again, leaving a small squeeze on her hand and feeling one in response.

Daenerys: Now yes.- She answers me in a whisper. -Only that I have been so afraid for you, you don't know how bad I felt when I saw that you weren't on Viserion's back, or how hurt and guilty I felt when I thought I had lost you.- She admits looking at me in the eyes and allowing me to see the pain behind her own.

Y/n: But now I'm here.- I assure her giving her a small smile.

Daenerys: But you weren't until recently.- She denies trying to hold back her tears. -I thought you were dead, that I had lost you and that my last chance to be happy had disappeared.- She whispers looking away, letting out the first tear and causing a painful shift inside me.

Y/n: Erys.- I whisper the affectionate name that I only use when we are alone. -Hey look at me.- I whisper pulling her hand a little, so that she feels closer and I can wipe the tears from her face with my hand. -I'm here now and I'm with you.- I assure her again.

Daenerys: I know, but I feel like it's a dream and that when I wake up you'll still be missing in the cold water.- she whispers looking at me with eyes full of pain and sadness.

Y/n: It's not a dream.- I say raising my right hand as best I can, feeling some pain when moving it and placing one of her silky silver hair behind her ear.

Daenerys: And how can I be sure of that? - She asks me with such vulnerability in her voice, that it's almost like a knife stabbing into the heart.

Y/n: How can I show you that it's not a dream?- I answer with another question, wanting to reassure her and free her from the pain she shows.

Daenerys: Kiss me.- she whispers looking at me with eyes full of supplication.

I widen my eyes surprised, since it is a request that I did not expect and for which I was not prepared. But I'm not going to deny that in the last few weeks something inside of me has been born, a pure feeling for the woman in front of my eyes that over time has evolved and become bigger and bigger.

When I agreed to marry her, I was doing it only for the greater good and because I believed it was the right thing to do. But over time, I became something more selfish and sentimental.

I wanted to marry her because I was beginning to love her and I wanted to be able to call her my wife. I wanted people to know that I was her husband and she was my wife, that we are together and that no one can come between us.

But i believed that feeling was not reciprocal. In my head I was the only one with feelings of the two and I thought that she did it only for the throne.

Although with her request to kiss her right now, I see her approaches, comments, acts and behavior around me with different eyes.

I realize how blind I've been these last few weeks and what an idiot I've been about her intentions towards me.

Daenerys: I'm sorry, it was stupid.- She apologizes immediately, separating her face from my hands and putting more distance between the two.

That is when I realize that I have been thinking for a long time and that I have sent her the wrong signal.

Y/n: No, Erys.- I deny immediately, leaning forward abruptly to prevent her from leaving and hurting my back and arm. –Ouch.-  i growl closing my eyes tightly.

Daenerys: Don't make any sudden movements.- She orders me quickly with concern, putting her hands on my bare shoulders and pushing me to sit up straight again.

Y/n: Well, don't run away.- I ask looking at her eyes and trying to connect them with mine.

Daenerys: I'm not running away.- She denies looking anywhere but my face.

Y/n: Then why aren't you even able to look me in the eyes.- I reproach placing both hands on her and grabbing them so that she doesn't move away.

Daenerys: Because I think I've bothered you enough and I don't want to bother you anymore.- She excuses herself and I can't help but smile at her misunderstanding.

Y/n: Look at me.- I ask her without removing the smile from my face and looking at her face carefully.

Daenerys: Why are you smiling? - she asks abruptly when she sees me, frowning and looking at me with a slight fire on her face.

Y/n: Because you don't bother me, you never would and you never will.- I assure her removing the smile and putting on a more serious face. -I haven't answered you, not because I don't want to kiss you or feel the same as you; but because your request has surprised me.- I clarify seeing how the fire in her eyes disappears and is replaced by a different brightness.

Daenerys: Do you feel the same? - asks between confused and excited.

Y/n: If feeling the same as you means that I love you and that I want to marry you to spend the rest of my life by your side, then yes; I feel the same.- I assure her with a smile and receiving a huge smile from her.

Daenerys: Do you love me? - she asks, having teary eyes again, but this time with happiness and placing her hands on my cheeks, causing my hands to fall to my sides.

Y/n: A lot.- I nod in response. -And you, do you love me?- I ask a little insecure.

Daenerys: As I have never come to love anyone.- admits immediately and with all the honesty in the world.

Y/n: So do you want me to kiss you or...?- I leave the question in the air, with a playful and amused tone.

Daenerys: I'm going to let you pass that because you're hurt.- she tells me seriously. -But yes, I still want you to kiss me.-  She whispers, looking straight into my eyes.

I place my left hand on her cheek, gently caressing her and feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm.

I slide my hand to the back of her neck and gently pull her towards me. I feel the heat of her repair crash into my face, feeling the anticipation and desire of her body with the rapidity of her breathing.

I stop torturing her, finishing bringing her closer to me and bringing our lips together in a slow kiss. With some effort, I move my right arm and place my hand on her waist to bring her body closer to mine.

Her hands go from my cheeks to the back of my neck, where she leaves small caresses and pampering on the spot.

We separated for a few seconds, staring into each other's eyes and rejoining our lips in a somewhat more needy kiss.

Daenerys ends up sitting on her side in my lap, running her hands through my medium length hair and pressing her chest completely against mine.

My left hand trails down her back, wrapping around her hip and leaving a grip in place as she bites my bottom lip.

From one moment to another, I feel a sharp stab in my right arm and I break away from the kiss because of the pain.

Daenerys: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - She apologizes with heavy breathing, since in an oversight her hand ended up on my bad arm and she left a grip on the place without realizing it.

Y/n: It's okay- I shake my head with my eyes closed and holding the affected area with my left hand.

Daenerys: I'm really sorry, I've gotten carried away and I've completely forgotten.- She apologizes again with obvious guilt in her voice.

Y/n: Erys is fine.- I try to assure her, opening hmy eyes and seeing her face contracted by worry and guilt.

Daenerys: The best thing would be to let you rest.- She assures me trying to get up from my lap, but I react quickly and gently hold her forearm with my good hand.

Y/n: Don't go.- I beg her not to go and less so now that I know she feels the same as me.

Daenerys: But you must rest.- She defends herself by sitting on my lap again. -We will arrive at Dragon Pit in a week and a half if everything goes well, so you have to be rested and strong for the meeting.- She tells me stroking my hair.

Y/n: Then rest with me.- I ask, looking straight into her eyes.

Daenerys: I don't want to hurt you again by accident.- she denies insecurely.

Y/n: You won't.- I deny with a smile. -And if you do, I'm sure it's because I deserve it in some way.- I say with a certain humor, trying to convince and reassure her.

Daenerys: Okay.- Nods after a few seconds. -But I have to go to my cabin first to get some of my things, you have to eat something and they have to heal your arm.- She tells me, leaving a quick kiss on my lips and getting up from my lap. -Besides that you have to put on clothes if you want me to sleep with you.- She comments with amusement.

Y/n: Clothes? - I ask confused, looking at my body and that's when I realize I'm not wearing anything.

I open my eyes in surprise, lifting the bison blanket from my lap and seeing that she's right, since I'm completely naked. I quickly cover myself up, feeling the blush creep up my neck to my cheeks and avoiding her gaze at all costs.

Daenerys: I think that talking while you're naked is already something usual. - she comments amused.

Y/n: Anyway.- I play it down a bit embarrassed.

Daenerys: I'll be back shortly.- She tells me walking towards the door and a doubt arises in my head.

Y/n: Wait.- I call seeing how he stops and turns to look at me. -How is Viserion? - I ask remembering the dragon.

Daenerys: He's perfectly.- She answers me with a wide smile. -Waiting for you to leave the cabin to see you and receive some kind of affection from you.- She tells me with a sweet smile.

Y/n: That's good.- I nod letting any kind of possible concern disappear from my body.

Daenerys: Yes it is.- She agrees with me, before giving me one last affectionate smile and walking out the door of my cabin.

I stay alone in the room, replaying the latest events of my life and feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

Because not only have I survived an unimaginable fall, but I have also survived drowning in freezing waters, hypothermia and one of the most wonderful women in the world has admitted to returning my feelings.

I smile with a little melancholy, when a light scent of almost imperceptible lilies is smelled next to me and I close my eyes enjoying the distinctive smell of Margaery.

Y/n: Thank you for putting her in my path.- I whisper in gratitude, knowing that Margaery put Daenerys in my path and that it is her way of taking care of me from heaven.

Within a few seconds, I feel a very subtle warmth on my forehead, and then the smell of lilies completely disappears.

Margaery Tyrell was my first love and I will always remember her with one of my best smiles. But Daenerys Targaryen is the love of my life and the woman I will be able to spend the rest of my life with.

Because after defeating the white walkers, we got married on the cliff of Dragonstone and with the people we both cherish the most as the only witnesses to our marriage. In addition to my wife's children, of course.

To fight and defeat my mother, ensuring that the casualties are not other people than some people from my mother's army and thus win the throne for my wife.

The woman who proclaims herself as the first Targaryen queen, with whom by some miracle of the gods I share two daughters and a son, in addition of the return of the dragons with our heirs.

Daenerys: What are you thinking about, love?- She asks me, pulling me out of my thoughts, when I feel her hug me around the waist from behind and I stop looking at the city where I grew up and where I live again since the day she sat on the iron throne.

Y/n: How lucky I am with my queen.- I answer turning around and grabbing her slightly wrinkled face in my hands.

Daenerys: Not as much as I am with my king.- She answers with a big smile, standing on her tiptoes and bringing our lips together in a meaningful kiss.

But even after little more than fifteen years of marriage, I feel that each kiss and each caress are the first. And I don't want that feeling to ever change.

THE END

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[what-the--curtains]

Fire & Ice

Chapter 4: Innocent Indiscretions

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!reader)

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Summary: Disappointed in her sons behaviour, Catlynn plots to remove any and all distractions from his path leaving you caught in the crossfire.

Authors Notes: Thanks for all ur love and patience heres chapter 4! I hope it doesn’t disappoint💕💕

TW: Hearing Voices, swearing, mentions of pregnancy, grief

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged list: @kittykylax @winxschester @mihrimahsultan03 @stargaryenx @the-desilittle-bird @roselibrary @luxlisbonlover

Playlist

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You wake tired. The sound of Viserys screams plagued your sleep. Even in his death he would not let you rest. You move about as if in a fog careless in your movements as you dress absentmindedly. The sun rises orange over the tree, casting a red hue across the sky as you exit your tent. The trees whisper as you walk, leaves rustling ready to fall. The smell of death clings to the air, suppressing your appetite. 

The smell wasn’t the only feeling turning your stomach. Even a man as stupid as Visery would not have penned a letter with such obvious intents of treachery. If Visery was targeted, you may be next. 

With Jorah off fighting on your behalf, you were left alone more often than not, leaving you vulnerable. You could not call him back, if your life was in danger you needed information. Information that would only come from the men that fought for your husband. 

The camp is quiet when you return and the hearth in your tent casts a shadow against the fabric. 

“Lady Rhaeanya, my apologies. I hoped to be finished with my business when you returned, lavender is said to help cleanse the air and ward off bad spirits,” Catlynn states stepping back from your bed.

“You need not apologise, your kindness is most welcome here at any time, if nothing else the lavender will rid the smell from the air,” you reply, laying your cloak down atop an armchair. 

“There is another matter of business I hoped to speak with you about today,” she states, as the sound of footsteps approaches. “Enter,” she shouts. 

The curtains part revealing a man clad in armour bright as the day with silver birds engraved along it. The armour had been cared for, dents and slashes dull against the polished material. Your eyes follow up towards their face finding it equally as perfect as the armour he wore. Clean shaven, warm deep brown eyes that drop to the floor as he bows, dark hair falling slightly as he does. 

“Lady Rhaeanya, this is ser Kean Darrion, he is a Night from the Vale, one of the few sent by my sister,” her inflection tense, evidently Catelynn had expected more “ I have known him since he was a boy, he visited Winterfell frequently after he became one of Jon Arryn’s squires, he was recently knighted by Lysa a few years back. We have entrusted him to protect you, and any future heirs you may have,”

“We?” you question. 

“Robb and myself,” you stifle a laugh. 

“Lady Stark, I understand your concern and I mean no disrespect to Ser Darrion, but Jorah is and has always been…”

“Ser Jorah represents you on the battlefield, and you are too often alone. Besides, two guards often prove better than one,” 

“Your Grace,” Ser Darrion says bowing once again, “It is my great honour to offer protection to someone so valuable to our cause, and I will happily share the duty with Ser Jorah if you will allow me,” he was beautiful, princely, like those you had read about in fairy tales, the ones from dreams you had long abandoned. 

But beautiful people were dangerous, meant to disarm and distract you. He could belong to anyone;  Lysa, Robb, Catelynn, the Lannisters, you should proceed with caution. However, there is a benefit to keeping one's enemies close.

“If you are willing to offer your services freely to me, then I will accept ser Darrion,” a smile pulls at Catelynn's lips, perhaps this was a test. Perhaps a trick, a handsome knight to tempt you, a reason to end your allyship with the Starks. Adultery was not smiled upon by the gods, old or new. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You have to leave her behind,” Catelynn enforces, laying her hands flat against the table “you have a duty.”

“To who, exactly?” Robb replies

“To your family!” she proclaims “To your sisters trapped by the Lannisters, to you Brothers stuck defending Winterfell when they should be revealing in their childhood, a luxury you were granted,”

“And you think she’s going to help us get them back? I would have done this alone if you had given me the chance and not gone behind my back,” he shoots back 

“She is the last of a bloodline that was usurped from the throne; marrying her has given you the best opportunity for victory! Do you understand that? The value of her name?” 

“And how has that name helped us so far?” he counters

“It has gained us an ally in King's Landing,” Catelynn responds, and Robb turns to look at her “The Lannisters have lost Arya,” she stalls, swallowing hard, “and Sansa is still betrothed to that monster Joffrey, and that her face is frequently bruised,” she finishes. 

“I’ll kill him,” Robb whispered, fist clenched tears threatening to spill. 

“Not alone you won’t,” Catelynn affirms, her hands on Robb’s shoulders. “You both will take King's landing, she will sit on the Iron Throne and you can return to Winterfell with your sisters, back where you belong with your family, is that not enough?” 

“I will not give up the person I love for power, I…” he stutters, stalling, looking for the right word.

“And what about family?” Catelynn presses. Without an answer Robb turns to leave, bumping into Jorah. 

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Jorah replies bowing

“It was my fault, Ser Mormont,” Robb concludes, continuing on his warpath. He looks back as Jorah enters Catelynn's tent, wondering if perhaps he should return. 

“If you won’t have her I will,” Theon states, drawing Robbs gaze forward. 

“She’d eat you alive,” he replies, watching the smirk on his oldest friend's face grow wide. 

“I’d hope so, I’ve heard girls from Essos have a particular speciality of going down south, is it true,” he pushes “very well keep your secrets, but if your not having her once a night you’re the biggest idiot this side of the river,” Theon states

“There's more to a woman than appearance,” Robb states. 

“Did she not win you a battle, besides I’ve never known you to need a smart woman,” he chuckles, eyes turning as a few nurses walk back. 

“You’re thinking of yourself,” Robb laughs as Theon looks over slightly offended, but shrugs his shoulders and laughs along with him. 

“For a King with two beautiful women you still manage to walk around like you’ve got a stick up your arse,” Theon states, watching Robb turn stern faced towards him “Apologies, Your Grace,” 

“You’re an idiot,” Robb laughs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lady Stark, you sent for me?” Jorah asks bowing as she turns towards him

“I have ser Mormont, I am sure you know my husbands banishment of you is something I stood by,” she recounts, watching Jorah shuffle on his feet. 

“Yes my Lady, as you should. It is a moment I wish erased from my past,”

“If it were you would not be where you stand today. Mistakes need to be remembered so they do not happen again. Lady Targaryen trusts you whole-heartedly, I however am still undecided.”

“For what it is worth to you, Lady Stark, I am no longer the man I was in younger, more foolish years. Money and love blinded me in the past, I now know the evils it drives a man to,”

“Evils and lengths. Money can certainly buy love, I believe it may be able to send it away. You must know by now, as he has made it obvious, that my son is not… well, he is not faithful to his vows,” she states, flushed with embarrassment. 

“I have heard mumblings amongst the men. It was not my place to verify the truth of it,” his apparent calmness betrayed by the clenching of his jaw. 

“He is a good man, despite what you may have seen of him. Had Talisa not been a factor I am sure Lady Targaryean would have known a different side to him. She is important to our cause, intelligent and a strategist worthy of challenging the Lannisters, I do not want her to feel this unwelcome. He needs her. Whether he understands it yet or not,  she will help lead him to victory, she will give the men something else to fight for, but only if he remains focused, singularly on winning this war,” She stalls, eye Jorah searching for a reaction, 

“I entrust you with this because I know you wish to see her on the throne, I know you would not betray her and if you can help it, you will not fail her. I have recently learnt the purpose of Talisa’s arrival to Westeros, in search of funds and medicine to send back to her ailing mother and brother, she writes them and sends money. I know her commitment and love for her family runs deeper than that which she has with Robb, all she needs is…”

“A nudge in the right direction,” Jorah finishes  “Thank you for trusting me with this Lady Stark, I will not fail your house, not again”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Talisa” Jorah coughs, having caught her in the woods gathering medicinal supplies

“Ser Mormont, I am surprised to see you here I did not take you for someone who enjoys strolls through forest,” she smiles knowingly, “If you come here on behalf of Lady Stark I commend you but she, and you, and I all know by now that I cannot control the actions of her son,” she replies gathering medicinal herbs. 

‘No, but perhaps something exists to encourage you to part from his side,” He offers

“I hardly doubt…” 

“They offer a sum,” her hand stalls, still as the breeze blows her hair. “A large sum, enough not only for your comfortable passage across the narrow sea, but to ensure the greatest care and medicines for you mother and brother if you are to return, but only if you return indefinitely,”

“I will make the money myself,” she insists, hands once again gathering with speed. 

“Take it from someone who once believed hard work would satisfy the demands of life. No amount made on small wages will be able to save them, nor will it pay for the time you are able to spend with them if a cure is impossible,” he says softly. 

“How much?” she whispers, hardly audible. 

“More than you will ever need,” he relays, kneeling beside her. 

“Enough to save them?” she whispers, tears frosting her lashes. 

“I cannot guarantee that, but I can guarantee that this war will wage a long time, and the longer you stay the more they wither,” 

“What of Robb, what…” she stuttered, wiping her eyes, rarely did she allow them to fall lest in front of strangers, but her heart was conflicted, torn by the love for her family and love for a man she could never truly have.

“You need not see him again, we have a ship prepared ready for departure. I will escort you there, and then to your family to ensure all promises made are kept.” She swallows,  “He is safer with you gone, you must know that,” she wipes her eyes, looking up to Jorah, handing him the herbs she had collected standing to full height, she straightens her dress. She could not abandon her family, not when the possibility to save them was in her reach.  

“I have no things worth packing, but I do ask one favour from you Ser Jorah,”

“Anything My Lady,”

“You deliver Robb a note from me, I will not let him go on in life thinking my love for him was false,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sit in Catelynn’s tent, transcribing documents for the maesters, war messages in uncommon languages, a recent development you implemented to stop Lannister eyes from reading them in the field, delaying retaliations.  

A sense of peace washed over you as you wrote, the faint scratching of pen on paper lulling you into a relaxed state.

“Tell me it isn't true,” The tranquil atmosphere suddenly shattered “Tell me this is not what I think!” Robb shouts, breaking your focus causing you to smudge your script. 

“Robb of what do you speak,” Catlynn asks, standing from her chair, concern plastered on her face. You re-ink your quill returning to your work, family matters were well outside your scope.  

“You had her paid off,” he retreats from her touch.

“Robb,” Catlyenn shakes her head.

“You're doing no doubt considering Ser Jorah escorted her home himself,” he directs towards you.

“I do not even know what…” you begin, but your level tone is interrupted by another shout. 

“Talisa,” he proclaims as if obvious, “she has returned home, back across the narrow sea” causing you and Catelynn to exchange a look. 

“Then I am not surprised Jorah escorted her. He knows the way better than any, her safety will be secured until she returns I am certain of that,” you reply, glancing briefly at Catelynn. If she had anything to do with it, she hid it well. 

“She will not return though will she, you having sent her away,” 

“Why would I wish to send away the only thing that kept you out of my eyeline on a regular basis,” you reply, mind focused elsewhere. 

“Because you’re a spiteful person,” he prods, voice low. 

“Bold words coming from you darling,” you reply, flipping the page on your scripture.

“I killed you vile brother so you what? Send away my one source of happiness” he pushes. 

“Visery was more a prison guard than family most days. I thank you for expunging him from my life. It saved me a great deal of moral anguish,”  you relay through gritted teeth angered by Robb blaming you for another situation that was completely out of your control. 

“You resented our love, you were jealous of it,” He sneers. You lay down your quill and meet his gaze, it was not rage or malice that drove him, the pain was etched into him. It was obvious, so obvious that you should have let it go. 

“Forgive me Your Grace, am I mistaken or did she not just leave on her own volition? Perhaps your love was more one sided than you thought,” The air falls silent. Words were your weapon, and you had just delivered a wounding blow. 

“Leave,” his face is thunderous despite his silence, “I do not wish for you to be in my sight tonight or any other night for that matter,” you raise your brow despite the sudden shame you felt creeping up your spine “Now,” he snarls. 

The chair creaks as you stand “Thank you your highness,” you curtsey “for dismissing me from your court.” 

An admixture of remorse and validation courses through your veins as you flee towards the woods. Pride in your ability to fight back, but shame in your lack of restraint. Wounding someone already in pain. 

“Why,” Robb asks, tears threatening to spill over after you leave. Perhaps you were correct, perhaps his love had been stronger than hers. Perhaps Talisa had used him for his position, leaving him now he was married and her opportunity squandered. 

“Robb, she was never attainable long term, what were her options? A mistress until her death or yours? Rhaeanya’s death allowing you to remarry? Perhaps she simply realised this life was no longer what she wished for,” Catlynn explains softly. 

“I'll never forgive this,” 

“When you storm King's Landing and retrieve your sister from the clutches of Cersei Lannister this…this will feel like nothing but a distant memory. I have no reason to suspect your wife was behind Talisa’s departure. I feel she too is is upset as you will be spending more time being unpleasant towards her,” she scolds

“And she to me, I will not burden the entire blame for the hatred between us,” 

“Someone has to bend Robb, this tension cannot hold,”

“And that must be me?”

“You are in your homeland surrounded by men sworn to you, she has no one, and you just burnt her brother alive, so perhaps it should be you,” She relays condescendingly, if he was to act like a child, perhaps he should be treated as one. 

“She’ll receive no such kindness from me, if not to spite her then to spite you for what you have done to the last remaining ounce of my happiness. Everything I've done has been for you, why not allow me this once,”

“She left on her own accord Robb believe me or not,” 

“She would have told me,” He counters, and Catelynn falters, eyes glancing down. “What?” Robb whispers. 

“She sent a letter. I kept it from you, and for that I admit wrongdoing,” Robb strides over snatching the paper from his mothers, the letter read and carefully resealed by her hands, ensuring no words suggesting her involvement “read it yourself, and perhaps then you will see,” she replies leaving Robb alone with the letter. 

The words proved true enough information none could have known concealed within. She had left to return to her family in their final moments, not because she did not love him. He pushes down tears mourning the life that could have been as he reads her final lines. 

“I am fortunate to have known you, Robb Stark, and your good heart. I will cherish every moment spent in your presence. Let go of what could have been, but do not forget me. Bury me beneath the ground and return to look upon me with fondness

All my love,

Talisa”

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Alone in the woods you curse yourself for the pit forming in your stomach, for the remorse you felt, and for the apology that sat at the edge of your tongue that you bit back out of spite. Jealousy was not the right sentiment for what you felt towards Robb and Talisa. You were not jealous, you were tortured by their love, pained by how much it reminded you of Drogo, and the love you once had. How he looked at you, how he protected you, how he craved you. 

The memories of a love you would never know again and the pain you felt every waking moment as you mourned alone. 

A motion diverts your gaze, you rub your eyes clearing them as the tree’s whispers follow your movements and turn into sentences. 

“Come deeper my lady”

“We wish to speak with you” 

“What! What do you wish to speak about with me,” you shout, sadness intermingling with anger, “tell me what you seek,” but there is no response, no response, save from the sound of footsteps fast approaching. You compose yourself when you see Ser Darrion, quickly wiping away your tears. 

“Ser Darrion, my apologies, I am… I… well I...” you stall, unable to find an explanation. 

“I didn't mean to frighten you, Your Grace, I saw you head to the woods I followed and then I heard shouting,” a silence continue between you, “ I must admit, you are making my job difficult,” He smiles softly “It will be my head if I lose you, and other parts if a wolf took you,”

“I am not so sure losing me would render you an enemy with my husband,” you mutter “I am sorry to have worried you, and I apologies for losing my composer, I am not so hysterical most days,” you reply, taking the arm he offers you. 

“Grief is all consuming, it rips through your entire body. Sometimes shouting towards the sky, or at the trees offers comfort, and I see no madness in that. My condolences for your loss,” he says, the sincerity of words southing you, the only condolences you felt were sincere. 

“Thank you Ser Darrion, you have managed to make me feel sane in a world that seems to unravel my very fibres of being,” 

“I was sorry not to see you at the day’s strategy meeting. I must admit, I am eager to see your mind at work,” 

“It seems to be the only way I am able to contribute besides producing a future king. I used to dream of fighting those who stood in my way,” you admit, causing the knight to smile up towards the sky “Cutting down those who had wronged me, securing my way to the Iron Throne, back to my ancestors freeing their bones from those who hold them captive still…well you know the rest,” you finish abruptly, rambling was one of the many things Visery had scolded you for. 

“I would prefer to hear your version,  it seems that besides strategy you possess a great talent for weaving tales, and I assume great speeches,” 

“I read many great speeches in my youth, I transcribed them for the old masters across the sea. You pick up on a few things, but speeches do not win wars,” you relay 

“I would argue they do, though if you wish for training in the way of the sword, I would gladly offer my services. I offer my qualifications of being a knight,” he relays, his smile catching your eye. 

“Only a knight,” you reply and he chuckles, it's warm, and it fills you with heat. Your arm drops from his as you re-enter the camp, despite your desire to hold on, you would not play the hypocrite, knowing what you had said to Robb on the basis of properness. 

“Thank you for finding me, Ser Darrion,” you relay eyes finally meeting him. “I am glad to have another ally here, and another person to talk to. The trees will finally be free from my lamentations,”

“I would listen to you speak all day, and for what it matters, I am not the only one who wishes to converse with you. Lord Umber and Lord Karstark speak highly of you, even Lord Bolton managed a uncharacteristic compliment on your competence,” 

“Is that so?” you chuckle

“When you wish to begin training, let me know, I would gladly beside you on the field,” he says, 

“I can hunt well enough,” you admit, not wanting the conversation to end “at one point I could shoot a sheep a good thirty yards right in the eye,” 

“That I must see, speak with your husband about the lessons, I'm sure he will approve,” Ser Darrion bows, leaving you feeling in better spirits than you could remember since arriving here. Any jollity souring when you turn to see Robb approaching, you prepare for battle, but it doesn't come, he by-passess you grabbing a few books before departing, not returning again till the morning. Women were frequently brought in for the men, perhaps he had gone to drown his sorrows in them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A recent setback had increased the tension around the camp. The men needed a fight, or they would soon forget what they were fighting for. 

 Robb was unfocused, overworked and heartbroken. He had been pacing more, dark circles had appeared under his eyes. He needed a plan, one that was not coming to fruition. If he could not come up with a plan, then perhaps you could. So you followed him, each morning for the past three days to the war room, staring over the maps on the table while Robb remained hunched over candle light. The following day, you find yourself glazing over, as Robb circles the table, pushing and prodding houses, returning and replacing them. The book in your lap was a last resort, writing on early wars upon man's first arrival to Westeros, but you had read half a dozen books this morning,  and you grew tired of the feel of pages.

“You have nothing better to do than stare at me,” Robb asks. 

“Perhaps I was considering every possible way you could be assassinated,” you state evenly, causing his head to raise. His mouth is ajar in an attempt to decipher your words. The tone showed no sign of being a joke or a threat, he could not read you, not in the slightest. “In order to circumvent it of course.” you finish

“I’ve seen men hung for less,” he mutters

“A noose would free me from my dull cage of existence,” you retort. 

“If you are bored,” he says exasperated, “then perhaps you should learn a skill, any would suffice.” 

He returns to starting down at the carving. You sigh, pulling out an older book you had gone over the other day. You walk over, dropping it down before him, his gaze looking to you, as you open it. 

“This is in Valyrian,” he says blankly

“My mother tongue,”

“And how is this supposed to help me?”

“Well I assumed you could not speak it so I transcribed it,” you pull out loose sheets filled with neat handwriting, laying it down beside the map. 

“Why?” he questions, suspicion dripping from his lips. 

“I want to beat the Lannisters just as much as you do, ancient strategies in other languages may be a good way of outsmarting them, or at least levelling with them,” you explain, as Robbs eyes skim the writing. 

“Perhaps we have found at least one thing in common,” he murmurs, picking up the sheets. 

“Besides our utter disdain for each other? Well that and the Lannisters killing our fathers, not that they were much alike,” 

“And our brothers, well only an attempt in my case”

“I wasn’t aware,” you state sympathetically “but it was a Baratheon who killed my brother for loving your aunt,”

“For abducting my aunt,”

“You believe that?” Robb looks at you, and you opt to let it go. 

“What happened to your brother,”

“They pushed him out a window, he was ten” 

“Murdering children has never been above the Lannisters, I doubt your brother will be their last victim. They will pay for their sins. Review what I made note of, tell me what you think, if you see a fit for it somewhere. I can’t quite place how it should be adjusted for your army, and well you know your men best, “

“You wish to freely spend time in my company? 

“I wish to stop you from ruining my chances at the throne,”

“Your chances,” he asks gruffly, 

“The iron throne is mine, I will get to it, with or without your help,” he laughs, “Had we not been forced into this situation I would have my own way across the narrow sea and the Lannister’s would have paid their debts. As for my learning a new skill Ser Darrion has offered me training to defend myself.”

“If it will free me from your presence, by all means,” 

Ser Darrion stands outside the tent, guarding you as promised to Catelyn 

“Well, when do we begin?” 

“Begin?”

“Our lessons,” 

“We’ll start tomorrow,”

“I look forward to it,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You startle back at Robbs presence in your shared tent, his figure lit by the warm hues of the hearth. 

“You startled me,” you relay, but it gets no acknowledgement. 

“We need to have a frank conversation,” Robb says

“Have you identified a strategy?” You guess

“I believe so, but that is not the matter we must speak of, it is more urgent, perhaps more sinister,”

“Is this it?” you question, Robb’s brow scrunching  “you’re finally going to reveal your plans to kill me?” he relaxes, for a moment you think a smile crosses his lips 

“Not yet,” he replies, sitting down rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt “It pertains to your family, to your lineage and what you wish your legacy to be. Now, you made it clear on the night of our wedding that you would not breed my heir, but what about yours. With your brother dead, you are the last Targaryen,” 

“I am acutely aware of my isolation, thank you Your Grace,”

“This is not said in spite, it is said in practicality. You will take the Iron Throne, it is your wish, yes?” you nod your head “you are intelligent, tell me what happens if you take the throne and die without an heir,” The issue of legacy had crossed your mind multiple times since Viserys death. You thought more time would have been allotted to make plans. 

“All this starts over, and that in itself is a reason to fight against us,” you reply

“We must make it apparent that this will be the last great war, that once you pass, it will not restart a cycle of battles and kings,” he was right, infuriatingly, and on multiple levels, but as you stare the fire Mirri’s laugh enters your minds, her words of your barrenness, your inability to reproduce. The price you had paid for a life you took. 

“Well I know of your displeasure towards my behaviour though I  was not aware my appearance was so adverse to you as well,” Robb relays, a poor attempt to make light of the grimace across your face. 

“I want you to know that I do not make a habit of breaking promises, a person is worth only their word, my threats are rarely made and when they are they are kept,” 

“That being said,” his eyes meet yours, “I  will revoke my oath to never allow you to touch me, but I remain on the fact that love will never bloom between us. The soil is rotted and I am well aware you have no longing for me. I will produce an heir as it is a necessity, but it does not go beyond that. Is that understood?” He nods.

“I shall speak to the wet nurse for the best times to begin.” 

#robb stark au #robb stark x oc #robb stark fanfic #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction

[scorpio-marionette]

Long Live the Red Viper

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Rating: M for Mature

Warnings: canon levels of violence, implications of fun adult things, cute kids being cute, OBERYN MARTELL

Summary: You have returned to Dorne after the battle against the Night King. Will Oberyn forgive you for what happened to his children?

A/N: I'm slowly getting around to writing. I have a million different projects, on top of work, and feeling like no one wants to read my work. But hey, I finally wrote this, and regardless of if it gets read, I want to finish this story at least.

Mood board by @writer-darling

Ch. 4 / Ch. 6

Chapter 5

You have never seen sunshine so somber, a cloudless sky be gloomy, or a father be so devastated. Standing at your balcony that overlooks the Water Gardens, you think back to that fateful moment in battle. The Wall had been breached by the Night King and one of Daenerys’ own dragons. White Walkers flooded into the view at Winterfell. Truly hell on earth. Oberyn’s girls fought valiantly, even saving your life, but as the monsters tried to breach the walls of the fort even they fell to the sword… and it’s all your fault. You had become distracted by Daenerys. She and Ser Jorah had become pinned by the enemy. You and the Sand Snakes had also been cut off, surrounded by walkers. Her screams as Ser Jorah was cut down drew you away from the fight in front of you. Your need to protect your queen blinding you from your own survival. That mistake cost Nymeria her life. As you turned away, a walker chose to attack. She defended you and lost. The three of you knew she could not be completely taken away, so you scrambled to move her back inside to safety. Obara slashed her way through the hoard to make a path as you and Tyene dragged Nymeria’s body along. The crowd of undead pushed in and threatened to swallow you all whole. Obara was snatched briefly by the swell before you pulled her out. She had a deep wound in her abdomen, but was somehow still standing.

Some of the soldiers tried to fight their way to you, but the throngs of people were too much. You could see Daenerys all alone, but not too far away. You looked to Tyene and she nodded for you to go. You pushed through to grab the dragon queen, only to hear a shrill scream behind you. The two of you turn to see Tyene being all but ripped apart. The hoard must have grabbed her off of Nymera’s body and began to tear at her. Obara is nowhere to be seen. You both force your way through to remaining snakes, but you’re too late. Jon and the others finally reach you and fend off the walkers. You look down at the bodies of the girls and tears well up in your eyes. Obara overexerted herself, causing her to bleed out faster. She had been growing weaker and weaker without either of you noticing. She had collapsed from her wounds when she noticed the walkers take her sister. Tyene had tried to rip a walker off of Nymeria's body, but the creature decided to take her instead. They had beaten her senseless and cut her open like a freshly caught pig. 

Flashes of this moment still play whenever you close your eyes. You knew then that you could not in good conscience burn them along with the others lost without having their father see them first. You owed the girls and their father that much. So while the rest at Winterfell mourned the fallen, you and a small caravan prepared for the journey south again. This time to return those who came with you home. The time spent on the road gave you the space you needed from your queen. Daenerys had found you as slave. Your punishment for stealing from the wealthy. She admired your spirit and made you her guard after losing faith in Ser Jorah. You were willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. Now you wonder if it is worth the cost for such blind loyalty. Worth being the bearer of bad tidings. 

After returning to Dorne, you were welcomed into the palace. Despite the commodities and good greetings, you felt like a sham. Oberyn would speak to no one but his own family. Accepted no condolences at the funeral for his daughters. Only Doran would let you confess to what you felt was a crime. The prince of Dorne, patriarch to house Martell, listened as you grieved your mistakes. As the tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks, he breathed deep and evenly as he absorbed your words. He did not blame you. He did not move to comfort you. He merely nodded his understanding and stood, as it were, as an anchor to your suffering. When you calmed, he simply told you that it is not his forgiveness you must seek. Since then you have been trying to find the courage to speak to the Viper. He is not hard to find by any means. He trains everyday by himself. The only peace he seems to get these days. Training in the same gardens you look over now.

Looking down at Oberyn as he moves about with his spear is both a joy and a pain in itself. Your heart aches at the thought of all the agony he must be holding inside and yet your body sweats at the thought of the love he must carry around. Apparently it is an anomaly for the warrior to have gone so long without a partner in his bed as you have heard from the servants in the palace. They thought for sure he would have had someone by now since Ellaria passed. A few had hoped it would be them the prince would choose. You guess that has not been the case. He is too preoccupied with planning Cersei’s death. Which leads you right back around to how you should approach him. You cannot just talk to him. You have tried. He will not listen.

Perhaps you could fight him?

This is certainly a viable idea. There is no harm in trying. You turn away from the balcony and disregard your robes. Your loose pants and bands over your breasts will serve just fine for combat training. You descend the stairs to the gardens quietly and choose a spear from the awaiting arsenal. You wait and watch Oberyn’s movement. He is graceful in his practice, yet forceful and strong. As he whips the end of his spear back around to your general direction, you take this as your opportunity to jump in. You swing your own spear around so that it collides with his. This seems to break the man’s concentration as he had not expected company. His eyes glower at your interruption and he moves to slip away. However, you use the blunt end of the spear to jab at the man’s back as he turns. He looks at you. Searching your eyes to see if you truly wish to challenge him. Your face shows no sign of backing down, so he readies himself to spar.

You are unsure where your eagerness comes from, but you gladly take up the challenge that is the second son of Dorne. His movements are swift, if not just slightly difficult to keep up with, but it ignites a fire in your soul. Now, this is not just about getting him to speak to you. This is about proving your worth to him. You can see he isn’t impressed. You’re smaller and lack his strength, but you have better agility and speed than him. You dance around each other, leaving little nicks and cuts on the other's skin. Oberyn only speaks briefly to assure you that there is no poison on his spear. The fight looks evenly matched by an outside view. A stalemate that cannot be broken. Oberyn would disagree.

What you are unaware of is that Doran has already told his brother of your guilt. He knows you blame yourself for the death of his daughters and it kills him inside to know this. Both because you failed to protect them, and because he was not there to protect any of you. He had such high expectations when he had first laid eyes on you, and now in this scrimmage, he knows he was not wrong to make those opinions. However, he cannot help but be a little disappointed. Perhaps he should have sent just the soldiers of Dorne and not his children, but even Oberyn knows they would have wondered why he did not trust them to help. Deep down Oberyn knows there is no reason to blame you. You serve the dragon first. For some sadistic reason though he just wants to see you suffer a little. To see you writhe in the silence he gives you, pretending he does not know what you want to speak to him about. The quiet before the storm.

As your bout ends in a draw, Oberyn backs off and puts up his hand. You stand down as the man moves to put his spear away. You want to ask if you can spar with him again, but your voice seems to be stuck in your throat. You watch almost shamelessly as the sweat trickles down his torso. A new kind of heat taking over your body. He sees you eyeing him, though you fail to notice this. He chuckles quietly at your blatant attraction to him. It seems regardless of your guilt you still fancy him. This gives Oberyn a devious idea. 

“I will see you here, bright and early, tomorrow morning, yes?”

The question breaks you out of your stupor. You nod dumbly at the prince and see a smirk break his once morbid face. Something has changed at this moment. You are not quite sure what though. 

The morning comes, but Oberyn does not. You wait and wait, wondering what could be holding him up. Apparently, what was keeping him was amassing an audience for your scrimmage. You are sure a curious, if not concerned look has crossed your face at your opponent's arrival with his entourage. A slight smirk rests on Oberyn's lips as he takes you in. You are visibly irritated, but eager to start. This should be fun.

One of the soldiers accompanying his majesty sweeps his robes off of his shoulders. Another hands him his spear. A third approaches you with an identical weapon before returning to the other side. The atmosphere is tense regardless of its motion. The heat of the sun beats down upon your skin. You both step forward and into a ready stance. A soldier stands to the side, ready to signal the fight. At the drop of his hand, Oberyn lunges first. The sudden show of aggression is unforseen on your part as you quickly stumble back, looking for your footing. More quick lunges are thrown your way as you lamely deflect. It becomes apparent that the Viper is here today. With one last push into your space, Oberyn steps back to give you a little room. He is purposely pushing you to truly see what you can do. Backing you into a corner so you will have to fight back. You miss this notion though. All you know is agitation. First this man makes you wait for him. Now he aims to humiliate you in front of his own soldiers. Have you not suffered enough at the hands of the guilt you hold? No, apparently not. The prince means to make you suffer for his loss.

Irate at the thought that Oberyn could have stooped so low as to humiliate you as punishment for his daughters' death, you center yourself around this emotion and face him head on. You strike quite similarly to him when using the spear. Fierce, fast, and calculated like a snake. You lunge for him with clear intent to impale him, but what he does not see is your retaliation to his dodge. As he glides to the side to avoid your strike, you quickly change the position of your feet from a lunge to a swipe and slam the side of your spear into Oberyn’s chest. While this is surprising, he still keeps up with your change in tactics. After landing the blow, you spin around to land another on his back. As the shift of your spear comes into view, Oberyn turns to catch the wood under his arm. With the weapon pinned, he slams it down upon his thigh, shattering it. He then flips his own spear around to use the blunt end to attack you. You block his swings with your arms, but the blows disorient you. You miss the sweep of his leg and you crash into the stone below.

Through the now throbbed pain in your head from the impact of falling, you feel smooth wood against your sternum. You look up at your opponent to see a satisfied smile on his face. He must have expected you to be playful and happy when this sparring session ended because the satisfaction melts away into concern as all you are is angry. You shove away his spear and gather what's left of your pride as you skulk away. The snickers from the soldiers echoing in your ears. The man did not even have the decency to hold you a spear point. He might as well have beaten you with a mere stick. He should be satisfied now that you are proven a worthless wench in his eyes.

Oberyn, however, was anything but satisfied. He expected you to continue fighting. For you to stop at nothing to take him down. Now he is concerned he may have pushed you too far when you are still in a fragile state. He makes no moves to follow you, though he does silence his men. The last thing you need is to think you are incapable.

Upon the breaking of day the next morning, Oberyn rises with just a small spit of hope. He wishes to see you come barreling into the gardens with renewed determination to throw him to the floor. To witness the true power your spirit holds. That your body holds. The prince would be lying if he didn't say that your physicality has lit a raging fire in his loins. There is raw, brute strength in the force you admit. A beautiful and smooth elegance to your movements. Under your control, they harmonize into a dance that he wishes to join you in. Perhaps in that moment he could convince you to accompany him back to his chambers. To see you as he has desired for some time. Bare, soft, pliable, wanting…

With a spring in his step, he enters the gardens to wait for you. He chooses his spear and begins practice once again so as not to seem unusual. As he moves his feet in memorized patterns, his hands glide up and down the shift of the spear as if caressing your form. He pictures you melting into his touch. Your body silently pleading to be taken away and ravaged by his own. When he closes his eyes, he can see himself losing all sense in your embrace. The animal within taking over as he buries himself in your burning heat. His mind then begins to depict you round with his babe, but Oberyn banishes this for it is too early to think about that yet. He needs to know how you feel first.

What feels like hours pass the prince. You still have not arrived. He looks to your balcony where he knows you have been watching him for days. It stands vacant above his head. Where could you be? Concerned, Oberyn replaces his spear and leaves to look for you. He checks all the places he would think to find a warrior, but all they hold are the guards of the palace. He then searches all the places one would find a woman of great importance. All he gets for his efforts is a swarm of ladies looking to have him in their chambers. Much to their dismay, he leaves them. It suddenly occurs to Oberyn that he has not heard from his children. While the Viper trains everyday, the man does not train all day. He has made a balance in being a warrior, a prince, and a father for his youngest snakes now that his largest supporters have all passed. He knows that Doran and Sarella keep the four at bay while he trains, but he is always surrounded by them after he finishes for the day. The remembrance of this pushes him to seek them out. Perhaps they could help him find his warrior of interest. Oberyn looks in all the places he knows his girls love to frequent, but alas, he cannot find a single one. They seem to have all disappeared. Confused and mildly concerned, he begins to pace the halls of the palace. As he passes the doors to the library, a chorus of giggles can be heard on the other side. Pausing, he returns to listen in.

"What is a jinn?"

"A jinn, or a jinni, is a magical creature that grants wishes."

"Are they good?"

"They can be, or they can be scary!"

"Are you a jinni?"

"No, darling, I am no-"

"Of course she is!"

Your response to little Elia is cut short by her father's abrupt entrance. Your head shoots up at his voice and all you can see is the joy in his face. What he is so happy about, you are unsure.

"SHE IS?!"

"Yes, my love, she can make many men's dreams come true."

Ah, that is what has him so excited. Nice to see how he views you.

"Alright girls, story time is done for today. I would imagine your father is here to find you."

The four little sand snakes that surround you begin to pout and moan. One even clinging to your leg, not wanting to let you go. The sight warms Oberyn inside and that idea of you having his child enters him again. He may have lost his Sun and his three eldest children, but he knows they would want him to be happy, and happiness seems to be you helping him grow his brood by letting him pour all of his love into you. 

Unfortunately, you are unaware of the heated gaze the prince casts upon you. The desire his spirit has to take you in this room after dismissing his children. You merely rose from the chair you had taken so you could read to the girls. They had ambushed you this morning, much to your surprise. Their curiosity of the lady in furs becoming far too much for their little minds to contain. You had risen early so as to leave before Oberyn entered the gardens below. When you opened your door however, the four little snakes tumbled in, and so began the most intense interrogation of your existence.

At first it was a cacophony of questions that could not be understood. To pace them, you lead them to the kitchen like a mother duck leads her ducklings. You sat them down, one at a time, upon the tables and began to give them fruit. Your first question was why you chose the fruits you did. Your answer being that you've always wanted to try them but never could. Your next question was what will you eat next. To which you answered that you were unsure. On and on the questions came between bites of fruits and sweets and cheese. It made for a rather enjoyable morning for how early it was.

Once the food was gone, the snakes all fell in line behind you as you moved along. Now, however, they needed nothing to convince them to speak one at a time. One should speak up as all the others stayed silent, and they all started to naturally take turns asking questions. As you continued to answer their curiosity, you moved them to the library. You had been meaning to visit since your arrival, but your mild obsession with one prince of Dorne had dampened your chances. When you and your proverbial ducklings entered, one immediately asked, "will you read to us?" You would have been heartless to say no to that request. Especially with the face you were being given, and that is how you ended up here with four little girls around you like they were your own children. It does not help that you have always wanted to be a mother. No decent man wants a broken woman.

You bend down to unlatch the tiny hands around your ankle when a masculin hand stops you. Looking up you see the pleased look on Oberyn's face.

"I was actually looking for you. You never came to the gardens. I would have thought you wanted a rematch after yesterday."

You want to scoff, but you do not want to start a fight in front of girls.

"I have no interest in sparring with you, my prince-"

"Oberyn, please. You are our guest, and my children seem to have taken a liking to you. It would only be fair if you called me by my name."

"Yes, well, that does not change anything, Oberyn."

"Papa, can she be our new mama?"

Both of you freeze at the question provided by the youngest girl. Two dramatically different thoughts pass through your minds.

She cannot be serious!

I would love to make her your mother.

You suddenly notice how Oberyn is holding your hand. His thumb mindlessly stroking your finger as if toying with a ring. Is HE actually thinking about it? He cannot be, right? He humiliated you in front of his men. He holds no feelings for you. You look up to the near obsidian orbs that are trained solely on you and you freeze. Desire, unbridled and unfiltered, pours out of them with the threat to drown you. He is thinking about it.

"My joy, that is not a question for me. You must ask her because it is her decision. But you will have to wait to ask again, because I have questions for her as well."

You are pulled out of your stupor with the tug on your hand. Oberyn releases you from his children and promptly drags you away. They grumble quietly as you leave. The prince takes you to his bed chambers and all but barricades the door. Wanting no interruptions now that he has you with him. Turning to face you he finally takes in your dress. Dorne looks exquisite on you! You wear a gorgeous golden dress that drapes perfectly over the curves of your body. You wear bangles you bought from the gypsy woman in the market. The sandals were gifts from the servants of the palace for returning his daughters home. You are truly a goddess before him.

"Please forgive my girls. They have always known the love of their mother, so in their grief they are looking for another."

You nod in understanding. You had lost your mother at a young age, but you could barely remember her. Wanting to fill the silence, Oberyn crosses over to you to take your hands in his. Your hesitancy to speak is making him uneasy.

"You must know I never intended to embarrass you. I had brought soldiers to our last session in hopes of seeing what you could do. I only wanted to challenge you."

His eyes are pleading though you are trying to avoid looking at them. For as dark as they are, there is a clear and vibrant light inside of them. One that calls to your very soul. One that asks you to come to it, to stay with it. You can see now why so many are drawn to this man. His heart is pure, his mind dark, and his body a paradise. 

"You did nonetheless, Oberyn. So what do you want from me?"

Oberyn takes your hands and pulls them under his robe to place on his bare chest. His own move to cradle your arms as his heart beats under your fingertips. His head tilts down to lean against your own, and he stills.

"Forgiveness"

The guards of Sunspear are more than accustomed to avoiding the scurrying of little feet. What with the royal family seeming to have a new addition every other month or so, one learns to avoid them. Even seeing them crowded around a door, trying to listen in, is not an unusual sight. All one must do is notify Sarella of what they are doing and where, and she will take care of them. Well, that is exactly what is happening at this moment. Sarella was told by a passing guard that her younger sisters seemed to be trying to eavesdrop on someone in her father’s chambers. To say the lady went just a wee bit pale, would be an understatement. Now Sarella is rushing to find her sisters. Another commonality in the palace.

As she approaches, a quiet titter like fairies can be heard in the silent hall. The four little girls are all huddled together at the door listening. Not much can be heard, but at least it is not the graphic and lewd moans and cries one would usually hear from this room. Sarella swifty whisks all of the children away to a different part of the palace. Preferably to the furthest point away from their father. She has them all sit as they continue to gossip amongst themselves. Ever so curious as to what could be making them so enthralled in their father’s affairs, she asks what they heard.

The little ones all look around at each other as if deciding if she’s worthy of the information. Can she be trusted? their looks ask. Will she understand? All good questions to have in mind. After a moment the giggles begin again. One scoots forward to let Sarella in on what has happened.

“You must not tell anyone, not yet,” Obella whispers. “But we believe papa is going to make the beautiful lady he met our new mama.”

The girls all burst into a fit of laughter. The excitement is prominent on their small faces. Then one hushes the others.

“But he must win her heart!” exclaims Elia.

“What do you mean?” 

“He must win her heart in battle,” says Loreza.

You and Oberyn have spent everyday together since his confession. Not only did the man not mean you harm, but he meant to have you in his bed. He would have gotten that had it not been for the young audience at the door. Instead you proposed a deal to the prince. A fair fight. If he could beat you with minimal effort again, or merely impress you with his skills, you open yourself up to him. If he could not, the two of you would spar until that day came. 

Despite how genuine the prince seemed to be, you could not help the nagging feeling that this was all just physical for him. You know very well you are beautiful. Plenty of men had tried to have you without care for you, and nearly as many lost pieces for their insubordination. When you say no, you mean it. A part of you hopes this might become more. That you are not just a means of satiating his lust. That maybe the Viper has it in him to still love.

That is why everyday has been a chance to give him hell. To push him hard and see what he does. He keeps a good pace with you. Both of your skills are evenly matched. One day you will go down. The next will be him. On and on as the tension builds. You catch each other in moments of weakness. The caress of a face. The brushing of a leg. By the end of each spar, Oberyn is as hard as the steal used in his spear. You are wetter than the shore after a storm. Yet you both still part ways. Lingering gazes across your form. An invisible touch. A promise to return again in the morning.

Then the bells toll.

#pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #oberyn martell #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #long live the red viper #this fic is now 27 pages long

[charliedawn]

"Marry me."

How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.

Sandor Clegane:

"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.

"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.

"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.

"No."

"Ah."

"…"

"…"

"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.

"Sure."

He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."

There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.

Oberyn Martell:

"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:

"No."

He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.

"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."

He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.

"…Really ?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. Really."

He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.

"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"

You sighed before closing your eyes.

"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"

Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"

Tyrion Lannister:

"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.

"What ?"

Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.

"You heard me."

He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.

"…Why ?"

Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.

"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.

"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"

"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.

"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.

"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.

"Because I am not a good man."

You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.

"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."

Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.

"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"

He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?

Jaime Lannister:

"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.

"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.

So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.

"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"

That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.

"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"

That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.

"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"

"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.

"Then I will give you whatever you want."

In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.

The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.

Everyone was stunned.

But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.

"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :

"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.

He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.

"Why ?"

You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?

"Does it matter ?"

He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.

"Depends. What will it bring me ?"

You looked away.

"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."

He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.

"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"

You hesitated before sighing in defeat.

"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."

At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.

"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."

Sansa Stark:

You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.

"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"

Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.

"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.

"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.

She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.

"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."

You smiled and shook your head.

"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."

Sansa smiled back.

Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.

Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)

"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.

"What ?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.

When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."

You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.

Daenerys:

"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.

But, marriage ?

Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.

She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.

"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.

"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.

Ser Jorah:

"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.

"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…

"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.

"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.

You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…

Ser Jorah accepted.

After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.

#sandor clegane x reader #ser jorah x reader #daenerys x reader #jon snow x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #littlefinger #petyr baelish x reader #sansa stark x reader #oberyn martell x reader #jaime lannister x reader #got characters x reader #fandoms #imagine #got

[springdandelixn]

Can I request something with Jorah putting a fem reader over his shoulder?? That’s literally it tbh I’m just a whore for that stuff 💀

Modern Knight

Summary: Jorah saves you from the crowd.

Warnings: age difference (reader is legal but Jorah is twice her age), size kink, claustrophobia but otherwise, all fluff.

Characters: Jorah Mormont x Short!F!Reader (Modern AU)

A/N: It has been a VERY long time since I wrote any fluff but this request really got to me along with me and my sister having our own LANY moment at the dog park.

A drabble this may be, your feedback is highly appreciated. Reblogs would be very much welcome. And of course, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ To the requestor, whoever you are, thank you.

“We have to hurry up, bubba bear!” You urge as you tug on Jorah’s hand, your feet almost sprinting as you go with the other concert attendees making their way to the front. “We might not get a good spot!”

“Be careful, cub! Slow down.” Jorah admonishes, his voice full of annoyance. “You might get lost.”

“I won’t if you hurry up!” You groan, dragging the tall and bulky man from behind you. 

You’re halfway to the stage when the lights suddenly dim down, and screams of the crowd surround you as the name of the band flashes on the giant luminescent backdrop on stage. Excitement rolls through your veins when you see the silhouette of the members, your eyes growing wide in amazement when an array of fireworks shoot up in the air, the night sky glowing in hues of purple, green, and red.

The opening song starts to play and you scream at the top of your lungs, the hairs on your body standing as a chill runs through your veins. 

You’ve been a fan of the band for years and have waited for them to tour your city. To witness them play your favorite songs and their best hits live and you’re finally here, with the man you’ve dedicated most of the songs to. The feeling so surreal as they begin to serenade the audience. 

You look up at your side and giggle at the unamused expression plastered on your boyfriend’s face. His golden hair and scruffy beard shining underneath the lights from the stage. His arms are crossed over his chest, the band shirt you made him wear straining from his flexed bicep. The song then reaches its peak, the audience singing the lyrics by heart and you reach up to wrap your arm around his, resting your head against his upper arm. 

Jorah never wanted to go to the concert, expressing his disdain along with a lecture that people of his age no longer enjoy such loud music or attending chaotic events. But he tagged along nonetheless, telling you that he’s only doing so because he didn’t want your money to go to waste after giving him an update that you failed to sell his ticket. Though you never really put it up for grabs knowing full well that he couldn’t resist you. 

The next song plays and you jump into exhilaration, the melody being all too familiar from the many times you played it on your way to work and sang it shamelessly in the shower. Your eyes widen when you see the lead singer reaching out to the audience, jealousy painting you green when his hand touches those of the ones at the very front. 

“I’m going closer!” You shout to Jorah, not waiting for his response before pulling away from him and pushing through the crowd to find a spot closer to the stage. 

The smile on your face broadens as the figure of the singer grows larger, your feet unrelenting on their purpose to get closer. But a wave of claustrophobia hits you as the crowd begins pushing against each other, pinning you between two tall figures as you continue to march forward. 

The excitement from early completely diminishes and is replaced with fear, your breathing labored as you look around constantly for a way to wedge yourself away from the human wall. You feel your lungs grow tight, your arms straining as you push against the bodies that begin to suffocate you. But it’s no use as no path comes to view, and each step you make only serves to be futile. 

“Jorah!” You shout as hard as you can, tears pooling in your eyes and cascading down your face. 

All of a sudden, you feel someone grab you by the waist. A yelp of panic shakes out from your throat as the stranger hauls you away. Your feet leave the ground and you think you’re being kidnapped and you try to call for help, but the music playing in the stadium is too loud that none of the people surrounding you bat an eye or even care to come to your aid. 

A cool breeze then brushes against your skin and your eyes widen in surprise, dumbstruck, when you feel your thighs rest down on broad shoulders, the stage up at the front coming in full view along with the tops of the heads of the concertgoers. 

“Are you alright, cub?” You hear Jorah’s voice and you look down to see the familiar shade of gold in his hair, his rough, calloused hands gripping your calves tight as he tries to steady himself, holding you still. “I told you to be careful.” He scolds but there’s no malice in his voice, only concern. 

“I am now.” You lean down and whisper against his locks, your shoulders curling forward as you move your hands to cradle his head. “I’m sorry.” You frown but relax in his hold, relieved to finally be out of the crushing crowd. 

Another song plays and your heart quickly skips a beat. For amongst the crowd singing along, you hear Jorah’s voice joining them—every lyric sang to perfection as he keeps his eyes forward. 

Like a flower in the concrete So beautiful and rare You gave me hope when I was empty Walked me through the fire, you were there

“You know this song?”

Jorah glances up at you for a quick second, not missing the smirk playing on his lips before looking back at the stage. “It’s my song to you.”

That takes you by surprise for you’ve never witnessed him listening to your favorite band. Yet here he is, singing from his heart and it makes your chest bloom with so much love, love for the man that you call yours. 

Slowly, you tilt his head back for him to look up at you, his blue eyes glistening against the moonlight, so blue like the ocean and you feel your tears welling in your eyes as he continues to mouth the words to you. 

You're the light in the dark You're the arrow through my heart You, I'm nothing without you

Leaning down, you close your eyes and press your lips against his. A soft hum forms at his throat as you kiss him softly, your hands moving to cup his face before you deepen the kiss.

And it’s as if time stands still, the voices of the crowd die in the background and all you hear is the band serenading you and your love and the beating of your heart while the moon glows in the sky. 

The song that inspired this fic is you! by LANY.

I no longer hold a tag list but if you wish to be updated with new fics I release, follow my archives blog, @springdandelixn-archives​ , and turn on the notifications.

#jorah mormont #ser jorah mormont #jorah mormont x reader #jorah mormont fluff #jorah mormont au #game of thrones au #modern knight #coconut bun stories

[shadeysprings]

Steep Price

— Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: The night you pick your boyfriend up from work is the night when your entire life comes crashing down. 

Warnings: noncon, fingers at play, physical violence, public smut, character death & kidnapping. There may be more but do take caution as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week One: I Spy Challenge. The word I chose to incorporate here is diamond necklace with the theme of addiction and setting of mafia. It has been a while since I wrote Dark Jorah so here we are. Also, a big shout out to @sgt-seabass for giving me the idea of the fic as well as allowing me to incorporate her work, Clockwork, into this fic (kindly check that out) and also to my beta, @mochie85. You both are rockstars!

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

The chime of the bell is music to your ears as it resounds through the air upon opening the doors of the quaint bookshop. Your nose, kissed by the scent of the pages, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and warmth, a huge contrast to the cold rain that continues to fall down from the evening sky.

The place is empty, after giving it a quick observation while folding your umbrella close and stowing it in the stand. You hear your name being called from further in the front room, a smile forming on your lips as you make your way to the counter, seeing your boyfriend, Doug, place down a box of books on the ground and stalk over to you. 

His lips immediately find yours, your arms wrapping around his neck. Dark, blond locks fall over his forehead when he pulls away only to nuzzle his nose against yours in greeting. 

“You’re here early.” He says against your lips and you let out a giggle as he showers your face with a few butterfly kisses, his fuzzy beard tickling your cheeks. “I won’t be off for another thirty minutes.”

“I know.” You mumble, your hands sliding down to press against his firm chest, the cotton of his navy shirt smooth to the touch. “And you know I don’t mind waiting. The books are very much pleasant company.” He smiles at your words and you notice how his eyes move down to your neck. 

“You’re wearing it.” He breathes, his hand reaching up to caress the small diamond pendant that hangs by a silver chain, his birthday present to you. 

“Of course, I am.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist while his thumb caresses the crystal surface. “I’d wear everything you give me.” The slight slant on his lips is enough for you to know what he’s thinking, that of the 3 years you’ve been together, the necklace was the first gift he’s ever given you. 

You’ve told him you didn’t need extravagant things, that his love was enough to sustain the emotional connection you have together. But he was insistent, promising the year before he gave you the diamond necklace that he would make it up to you. And knowing Doug, he is nothing but persistent in whatever he puts his mind to—a trait you deeply appreciate. 

“Douglas—” He blinks when you call his attention, curious, blue eyes meeting yours. “Speaking of books, did it arrive today?” You beam. 

“Oh!” It’s as if your question snaps him out of a trance, the smile returning to his face. He takes your hand and leads you to the back of the counter with excitement. “Good thing you reminded me.” He hums as he opens the door of the stock room.

You feel giddy as your feet follow him willingly, each step filled with anticipation as he leads you further inside. A multitude of boxes greet you, each one stacked neatly against the wall and into shelves, the titles of the novels hidden within painted on the sides. And it’s when he stops that you recognize the words staring back at you, your hand moving on its own accord to run against the cardboard surface—Clockwork.

“They came in this morning and are scheduled to be sold tomorrow.” He says as he grabs a box cutter from his back pocket and cuts open the lid. He takes a book from inside before carefully sliding it between your palms.

Your eyes glisten as you stare down at the cover, the silver pocket watch sitting proudly above the black background and you can’t help but run your fingers against the embossed image. You turn the cover open and read the brief summary, fingertips tingling with exhilaration as you’re tempted to flip a page and begin reading the first chapter. 

But you hesitate, as much as you want to indulge yourself in the novel, you wouldn’t want to ruin a brand new copy and eventually not have it sold to potential customers. 

“Why aren’t you reading? Don’t you like it?” Doug asks, and you look up at him, seeing the curiosity swimming in his eyes. 

“I do—it’s just, I don’t want to ruin the book.” You pout and place the copy back in the box only for him to take it out again. 

“I can keep this copy and buy it later at a discount.” He volunteers, pressing the hardbound back into your hands before closing up the box. “But you’ll have to wait after two weeks. I get my paycheck then.”

“I appreciate the gesture, babe, but you know we can’t.” 

You and Doug have been planning on buying a house since last year and have decided to save every penny you earned towards that goal. The necklace was indeed a surprise—a bookshop associate isn’t paid much to afford such things—but he promised that it didn’t cost him more than what he could afford. 

Still, you decided that it would be the last of the luxury you both spent on, and a book this big in the market, as tempting as it is, isn’t worth losing an opportunity to set aside for something much bigger in the future.

“I could probably download an ebook by the end of the month.” You say with a smile, an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not in a hurry to grab a copy.” 

“Knowing you and your love for these novels?” He scoffs, the sound more teasing than insulting. “Or what about I keep the copy and you come over an hour before closing so you can read it?” He offers, a wide grin chiseled on his face. “That way, even if you don’t have a copy, you’re still keeping up with the story.”

“You think Lorraine won’t mind?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He chuckles, taking your arms and folding them over the book, the hardcover pressing against your chest. “Go on. Settle in a corner and read it. You’ll probably get to chapter three before I finish closing up.” 

“But—”

“Go on.” He urges with a laugh, ushering you out of the stock room before closing the door behind him. “I’ll meet you at your table when I’m done, okay? And you can tell me how much you like the book after.” It’s all he says before pressing a kiss on the top of your head and leaving you by the counter to resume his task. 

You stare at the book in your arms, smiling as you admire the cover once more. He does have a point. If you can’t have a copy yet, what’s wrong with reading one in the store? It’s not like you’re stealing it. No harm, no foul.

The excitement returns in full force and you immediately scurry to your favorite table in the shop, your breathing heavy as you take a seat and settle the novel atop the wooden surface. Taking a deep breath, you flip the book to the first chapter and begin reading the text; your mind immediately building the scene, slipping your feet in the shoes of the protagonist, and imagining yourself walking down a pathway with the summer sun beating down on your neck.

You feel your heart race as each scene shapes the story, the first several pages leaving you breathless and wanting, a slave to the author and her captivating words. 

The chime of the bell briefly takes your attention but you’re immediately sucked back into the world at the edge of your fingertips. Your blood is filled with adrenaline as the story reaches a peak you didn’t expect, digesting each paragraph, the anticipation of what’s to come next washing over you in a huge wave each time you turn the page. 

A loud groan then echoes from the back of the shop and you stop mid-read, a sudden sense of trepidation crawling up your spine. You think it was just Doug running the cart to return the books to their proper place but something tells you it's so much more that you close the book with a snap and stand from your seat, slowly walking to where you heard the sound to check on it.

“Babe? You okay back there?” You call, peeking from the shelves. The lack of response renders you nervous for it’s unusual for him not to ease your worry. “Doug?” You try again, your steps slow and measured as you peer at another aisle then another yet seeing him gone. 

You make your way to the reading nook, the place volunteers would read to the children on Wednesdays, expecting to see him tidying up the space. And you do see him, seated in one of the smaller chairs, a sigh of relief escaping your lips before deciding to make your way towards him. 

But your feet falter and a silent gasp leaves your lips when a fist meets his face, knocking him to the ground. Your eyes widen in shock when he lays on his side, coughing violently, blood sputtering out of his mouth and staining the floor.

“Where are my diamonds, thief?” A gruff voice echoes through the open space, the face of the stranger blocked by the shelves. 

“I already told you—” Doug groans as he tries to push himself off the floor. “I don’t have—”

But a foot lands on his abdomen, kicking him harshly onto his back before he can even finish talking. You see the man draws near him, a black button-up hidden underneath a black coat. His ginger, blond curls are messy from the effort he’s exerted to hurting the man you love. 

He lands another kick then another and you grit your teeth in anger as the sound of Doug’s pained groans fills your ears. 

The grip on the book tightens and you take a deep breath before shouting loudly for him to stop, barreling toward your boyfriend’s assailant with the hardbound raised over your head with the intention of sending back a harsh blow. But someone catches you by the waist, pinning your arms to your sides which makes you drop the book at your feet.

“Leave him alone!” You yell as you thrash against the solid wall of chest behind you, kicking your legs violently and squirming to be released. “Let me go, you bastard! What the fuck do you want from us?!” You don’t relent, groaning as you try to escape but pain soon radiates at your sides when your captor tightens their grip around you. “Who are they, Doug?! What do they want?!”

You stop moving when you see the man clad in a black suit staring at you then at your boyfriend before picking the novel from the ground. His fingers kiss the tip of his tongue as he begins flipping through the pages with a curious hum.

“Who is she, Douglas?” He asks without looking up.

“She—she’s no one.” Doug coughs, his arm wiping the blood dripping from his lips as he struggles to get up.

The ginger-blond stranger waves his hand in nonchalance when suddenly, another stands behind Doug, grabbing him by his arm to pull him up on his knees. Fear immediately runs up your spin when you hear the click of a gun, Doug stays still on the ground as the barrel of the weapon his pressed to the back of his head. 

“I will try again.” The man says as he licks his fingers once more, flipping another page. “Who is she and what is she doing here?” He intones, the tension in the air thickening. “She can’t possibly be a customer. Your store has been closed for some time now.” The sound of the book snapping shut makes your heart jump, swallowing thickly as you raise your chin when the edge is pressed high against your neck.

“I said she’s no one.” Doug snarls, his mouth painted crimson as he turns to face you. “Just let her go, Mormont. She has nothing to do with this.”

The man—Mormont—seems to consider his words.

“Well, if she’s no one, you wouldn’t mind if we shut her up then,” Mormont says with a wicked grin and nodding in your direction. Out of the blue, you feel cold metal press on your temple, whimpering as tears begin rolling down your face. “We wouldn’t want any witnesses to our little exchange, now  do we, Douglas?”

“Jorah,” Someone calls and Mormont turns to look over his shoulder. “The necklace. On the girl.”

Mormont’s eyes snap back to you, dark oceanic orbs meeting yours that slowly run down to the base of your neck. Your throat bobs when you feel his rough fingers brush against your skin, his eyes narrowing then widening as if recognizing the jewel that sits at the base of your neck. The book that holds your chin up is soon replaced by his hand.

“I’m guessing you like mafia novels, huh, sweetheart?” Still staring at the necklace, he holds up the novel for you to see, the cover staring back at you. But you keep your mouth shut, too afraid to even utter a sound. “Well, you’re in one right now and I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with how things like these go, am I right?” His eyes find yours, seeing malice laced into his irises. The gun at your temple is removed and he gives the book to the man that’s held you captive. 

Slowly, he circles you like a predator would its prey, your chest heaving and your back going rigid when you sense him stop behind you. His hand finds purchase around your neck, your chin moving upward upon instinct. He tightens his hold and you wince, your hand reaching up to take hold of his wrist. 

“I ask you a question and you answer. Am I understood?” He whispers, feeling crowded as he bends over you, his other hand resting tauntingly against your hip. “Now, be a good girl and tell me where you got the necklace, darling.” 

You don’t respond, your eyes drifting to Doug as you try to seek him for answers. Who are they? What do they want? Questions lingering in your head. But his face gives nothing away, fingers flexing against his thighs and curling into fists as he watches the display before him. 

Mormont tuts at your silence, crying in silence as his hand moves to the front of your jeans, his fingers tapping along the button and the fly, threatening to slide past the barrier. 

“Staying quiet won’t do you any good, darling.” He groans against your ear, his beard prickling your skin when he presses his face against your temple. “Now, I’ll ask again.” His hot breath scalds your cheek and you cry out when he suddenly slips his hand through your pants and panties, rough fingers pushing down further to cup your sex. You grit your teeth and grab tight on his wrist, trying to pull his hand out when he presses his thumb against your clit. “Where did you get the necklace?”  

You open your mouth to speak, to give him the answer he seeks for him to stop. But no words come out, only a silent scream when he slips a digit past your folds, his foot pushing yours aside to spread your legs wide. 

“Stop it! Don’t touch her!” Doug shouts from where he kneels and tries to get up. “She knows nothing!” But the man behind him kicks him on the back, causing him to fall once more. 

“I thought she was no one, Douglas?” Mormont mocks as he fucks you with his finger, your chest heaving as your stomach rolls in disgust with the unwanted pleasure that burns within your core. Your pussy clamps down on his digits when he slips another finger, stretching you wide. “Why does she have my diamond, Dougie?” He spits and you gasp sharply when he adds a third, your back arching against his solid chest as his thumb presses roughly against your clit, his hand twisting in your pants, turning in a new angle to fuck you faster with his fingers. 

Your breathing grows heavy and you feel the room closing in on you as your toes curl from his touch. You cry in desperation, vision blurry as you turn into a babbling mess, begging for him to stop. But he’s impervious to your pleas, your spine tingling and your face heating with shame as your cunt slickens with every thrust.

“S-stop—” You whimper, both hands grabbing on his wrist as you once more try to pull free from his cruelty. “P-please—I’ll talk! I’ll—” The words come out garbled, clogging your throat as moans rush out from your lips.

“I gave it to her!” Doug shouts and Mormont’s hand stills from your cunt, the arousal slipping from your blood. “Please—just stop.” He sobs while walking towards you on his knees. “I stole the diamonds, Jorah. I stole them and gave her a piece as a present.” The confession that drips from his lips is a stab to your heart, that he’s crossed such dangerous men and all for a piece of rock.  

Mormont’s silence is deadly and you feel his chest rumble against your back as he lets out a deep breath. Then all at once, his hold on your neck tightens and you shout in terror when his fingers begin to move once again, choking as he digs his fingers into your throat, the flame deep in your belly flickering back to life. 

“You take my things, I’ll take yours!” He snarls and two men grab hold of Doug’s arms when he lunges at you, holding him back as he struggles to set himself free. 

Your body shakes as his fingers continue to pull you closer to the edge. 

“No! You bastard!” Doug shouts but Mormont simply laughs, the sinister sound blaring in your eyes. 

“Look at him, darling. Look at that pathetic excuse of a man.” He commands yet you defy him, closing your eyes as you refuse to face your boyfriend in humiliation. But his grip on your neck tightens further and you open your eyes, Mormont’s hand framing your jaw as he forces you to look Doug in the eyes. “Look at him! I want him to see you come because of me. I want him to bare witness to what his stupidity has led you into.”

Tears flow once more from your eyes as you face him. His eyes are full of anger yet his face sullen in defeat as he’s left helpless to defend you. Your eyes then shut tight as your spine curves and your head rests against Mormont’s shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his sleeve when your body shakes, your cunt fluttering around his digits when you come hard on his hand. 

He continues to thrust in you, fingers sliding easily against your sopping walls. A sigh then escapes you when he pulls his hand away, smearing your juices over your abdomen and then slipping them into his mouth. 

“Fuck—you taste like honey.” Mormont growls, your body limp against his, breathing heavy, that you don’t even bother to pull away when he trails kisses from your cheek and down to your clothed shoulder. “No wonder that loser stole from me. I’d shower diamonds at your feet if I get to fuck such a sweet cunt.” The remark makes your stomach turn in disgust, shame encapsulating you that you allowed this man to toy with you as he pleased. 

“Jorah—” The man from earlier calls. “You had your fun. We have to go.”

Mormont sighs. “Very well.” Your eyes spring open when you hear a loud thud, seeing Doug on the ground once again, holding himself up with his hands and knees. “Kill him.”

“No!” You pull away from Mormont’s hold but he lifts you up in his arms effortlessly, the strength surging back in your veins as you thrash against him. “Doug! Doug!” You cry as you're taken to the doorway of the library. “Please! Don’t kill him! Please—” You sob as you beat against his arm. 

The cold air sears your skin as you’re pushed out of the bookshop, the rain coming down harder than before and lighting painting the sky followed by the crash of thunder. You continue to fight, to retch yourself free from your captors, and go back inside to try and save your love. But Mormont shoves you roughly into the awaiting vehicle, your back hitting the other side as you slide against the leather seat. 

Nonetheless, you waste no time. You jiggle on the handle harshly, trying to pull the lock out of its place, but your fingers stiffen and your head snaps back to the shop when a gunshot rings from the inside, your heart stopping as the door shuts close after Mormont takes his seat, the car driving off into the evening storm. 

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[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Hello! May I request a fic of fem!Reader being married to Ser Jorah Mormont (like after his divorce from Lynesse Hightower, fem!Reader and Jorah fall in love and get married) and Reader is as devoted and loving to Jorah and he is to her no matter the trials they go through (I just want some fluff)?

I just love writing for Jorah. This is a little short, but hopefully I can write more for him soon (outside of Queen’s Guard, lol!)

The Bear and the Maiden Fair: Jorah Mormont x Fem!Reader

Jorah never thought he would see the day, when he could be happy again. But here he was...with you. He can barely remember when you met, but the how stands out: Khaleesi.

It was so long ago, in the Western Market of Vaes Dothrak, that he first saw you. The Western Market was not one he had frequented as the traders were from lands such as Yi Ti, Qarth, and Asshai. The latter where you had hailed from. But Daenerys was curious about the food and wine you were selling and so often she went, dragging her Bear along. 

When you first laid eyes on Jorah, you were struck by how handsome he was, and Daenerys noticed that. So she asked questions about where you were from for Jorah. But Asshai was a mysterious land that few in Westeros and Essos knew about. And at first, you didn’t want to fill in the gaps of knowledge, afraid it would chase the Bear off.

But Jorah provided to be far more stubborn than you realized. Almost more than you were. And Daenerys could see it. She wanted her longest supporter to be happy and so she would frequent the Western Market. Which meant Jorah frequented as well, wanting to protect her while Khal Drogo was gone hunting.

It wasn’t long before you and the Bear became close. You were the one who convinced Jorah to be honest with Daenerys. You were the one who talked Drogo down from killing him once the truth came out, explaining why Jorah did what he did and how he wasn’t the same man any more. You were the one who stood by his side to protect Daenerys from her brother, Viserys. 

And when the khalasar left Vaes Dothrak, you were by his side. Wanting to see more of the world west of the Dothraki sea. So of course, Daenerys did all she could to push you two together.

Now, you were the lady to the Master of Laws, living with Jorah inside the Red Keep. The wars were a blur, but now the realm was united under a dragon banner once again. 

“What is on that mind of yours, my love?”

Jorah turned at your voice, not able to help the smile that crossed his face. You were in a red gown trimmed in black. Since Jorah could no longer be the Lord of Bear Island, Daenerys had declared you both were her family and now dawned the colors of House Targaryen. And perhaps he was bias, but they looked good on you.

“I was merely thinking how incredibly lucky I was that our queen insisted on visiting the Western Market back in Vaes Dothrak,” his gravely voice was always comforting to you.

You smiled. “Lucky, indeed. Anyone else would have steered clear of our mysterious wares.”

Jorah chuckled as he pulled you close. “Very little would scare our queen away.”

“You, as well, it seems. The mysterious lady from the Shadow Lands of Asshai didn’t fighten the Bear of Westeros.”

“Never,” he leaned down to kiss your lips. Jorah couldn’t remember a time he was this happy and would do whatever it took to keep it.

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[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 72 DAENERYS X (pages 772-780)

Dany burns a woman alive and turns her husband's funeral pyre into a hatchery for her dragon eggs.

The reader, after almost 20 solid hours of a headache that seems immune to painkillers, is perhaps a little overly critical about it all.

-

Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. ... "I am tired of the maegi's braying," Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

Real classy Dany.

On the platform, they piled Khal Drogo's treasures: his great tent, his painted vests, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had given him when he came to manhood, the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonbone bow. ... "To you I give the dragonbone bow that was my bride gift." It was double-curved, shiny black and exquisite, taller than she was.

I'mma add Dragonbone (weapons) to the drinking game = 🥛🥛

"Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever is his is mine now." "My... queen," Ser Jorah said, going to one knee.

Yeah, here we go again, this is the second time (the first being post pregnancy prophecy and the death of Viserys) that we see an escalation in Dany's need for acknowledgement of (her) power and authority. (Or the line of it through her while she was still pregnant.)

... oh fun, we also get to see the old divorced man who tried to do slavery declare his love for a fourteen year old girl who's just had a miscarriage, a second major traumatic death and loss of a loved one (even if he was absolute trash) and invite her to run away with him.

Super. Romantic.

(That was disgusted sarcasm, just to be clear.)

"I swear it," she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.

Okay, knowing that this is probably going to get me attacked by Die-hard Dany Stans, I'm just going to come out and say it: Dany's 'right' to the Seven Kingdoms is dubious at best.

Her family's 'right' to the kingdoms came through conquest, we can call it an usurpation, but the rebellion of Bobby B was also a conquest. If his claim isn't legit, than neither is Aegon's. If you're trying to come at it as a blood right, you need to remember that the Targaryen's only ruled for 300 odd years, out of a history that is over 8,000 years old just by a calendar of human habitation.

Dany's blood right as a Targaryen might say she owns the chair, the Iron Throne itself physically as a chair, because her ancestor had it crafted, Blood right might say she has the right to rule King's Landing because her ancestors built it and reigned from it for all but less than two decades of its existence.

Sure, I'll give her that.

But that does not entitle her to the rest of Westeros and/or Dorne. If (and when) she goes to Westeros, it is not as an unjustly deposed ruler reclaiming her seat, it is as a conqueror.

Dany called the Dothraki around her. Fewer than a hundred were left. How many had Aegon started with? It did not matter. "You will be my khalasaar," she told them. "I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives."

I know that this is supposed to be a big moment of "Dany frees the slaves" and perhaps the perceived start of her slave freeing journey, but something about this bothers me. And it's not that she's about to burn a woman alive for a crime she might not have committed. (So one slave not getting freed today.)

I think it's that she's already planning to conquer, at least that's what the mention of Aegon gives me vibes for, and that specific thought of him segues into the 'free the slaves' moment, where... where does she think they'd go with their new freedom? I genuinely got the vibe most of these people (the slaves specifically) didn't stay for loyalty or because they were slaves, that they were left behind because they were deemed worthless.

Given the way Dany treated Mirri in the previous chapters, I wouldn't be surprised to see Dany thinking again that showing someone basic human decency is enough to earn their undying loyalty and support.

"Aggo," Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogo's words. If I look back I am lost. ... They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

IILBIAL = 🥛🥛

"- I have no bride gift to give you, but I swear to you, one day you shall have from my hands a longsword like none the world has ever seen, dragon forged and made of Valyrian steel. And I would ask for your oath as well."

Valyrian Steel = 🥛

... Isn't there an article from a GRRM interview where he basically confirmed Valyrian steel isn't made from dragons (or at least not their dragon fire)? So is she saying she'll make him a Valyrian steel sword that will also be forged in the fire of dragons seperate from the Valyrian steelneess of it?

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.

Hang on, I need to google something.

"Drogon is black, Rhaegal is green and Viserion is the cream" ah okay. never mind. I was just wondering if the placements of the eggs reflected Dany's or even Drogo's relation the the people the eggs were named after. I was mostly wondering because their behaviours and attitudes in the show had a small aspect of character reflection. Maybe not "these three dead men are reincarnated as dragons" strong, but like, I felt hints and vibes.

She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last.

... I should just print out a copy of the wiki's list of house sigils. half the time these kinds of visions end up being house sigil references.

... I feel like someone should be saying "the night is dark and full of terrors" what with all this fire sacrifice and seeing things in the flames.

After them came her handmaidens, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look in their eyes to know they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo's.

Yeah, because for all that he waas a slave driving sack of shit who was physically terrifying and a strong and a capable warrior, he was still human. You... you're terrifying in an inhuman kind of way right now.

Who in their right mind betrays what is either a god or a demon after a display like that?

Well that chapter sure closed the book off with a terrifying bang, as I'm sure it was meant to.

Tomorrow is a cheat day for me, because it's the appendix, there might be a post, just end of book thoughts or things I want to say, idk.

Damn this chapter was a heavy one, I think it's a good thing I'm going to have the time to sit with it a while. I just.... hmmm.....

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