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Summary: Years have passed since you last went to Kingslanding. Times have changed and other powers have now control over the capital. A letter from an old friend reaches you. Soon the tides will change. War is already on the horizon. And only time will tell how this will end.
note: Please be merciful. I wrote that at 1 in the morning. This will be a longer series. At least that is the plan for now. English is not my native language!
warnings: mention of fights, mention of manipulation, mention of hatred
The moon shined brightly in the sky as you rode on your dragon. Your hands holding onto the rails. Anger raged inside you. The fight with your father, Daemon Targaryen, has left its mark on you. You had wanted to scream at him. Hit his chest with your fists over and over again. Throw all the things at him, that you never dared to speak to him. It was something you wanted to do often. He was not easy, your father. Daemon could be honourable, loving and kind when he wanted to. However, he was not always easy to connect with. At least not for you. If that had to do with your mother or something else, you did not know.
All you knew was that, after your mother had died, he had done everything to make sure that your other relatives could not talk to you. In any way. Letters were not allowed. Later, you found out that he had done that on purpose to get on their nerves. He hated them. Wanted to erase every memory or connection you could have had with them.
Your mother. Your mother was Lady Rhea Royce.
You do not remember much about her. She died a few months later after you were born. Due to an accident. Or so they say.
Nothing about you is her. Your hair is different; your eyes are different. Nothing screams House Royce about you. You are a Targaryen through and through. Your dragon, Nightwing, hatched underneath your cradle. It was a wonder. Sheer luck, some might say. Not all were as lucky as this. Your sister Rheana was not lucky when it came to her dragon egg. Your dragon grew up alongside you. His scales a dark violet. Eyes a dark purple. Nightwing had black wings and big horns on his head.
He grew quickly. Feasting greedily on everything he got fed. His favourite were cows.
Now he is big. Bigger than Vermax.
Daemon took you to Kingslanding after your mother had died. You grew up there. Living alongside the other Targaryen’s. You have many cousins. At first only Rhaenyra, who always treated you kindly. She was always sweet to you and read you stories when you were a child. She became…your mother in a sense. She was the mother that you never had. Later Alicent, your uncles new Lady wife got pregnant. She treated you with kindness too, however somehow it felt more calculated. It felt honest and dishonest at the same time. Her kindness felt wrong.
Aegon came into the picture. Back then you did not understand what that meant. For all of you. For Rhaenyra who had been named heir. A women will never rule. Whispers were everywhere. Aegon shall rule one day. A man on the iron throne. A King.
You were still young. Blind to what was happening behind the scenes.Many more cousins came into the picture. Aemond, Helaena and Daeron.
Daeron was your favourite, alongside Helaena. Daeron and you played together whenever you were able to. Talking about Dragons and Old Valyria. You even tried teaching him some high Valyrian. Daeron was not really good at it at first. However, he was a fast learner. Once he got the hook of it, he even outmatched your skills. You loved his eyes and beautiful hair. Hightower signature but you did not care. Daeron had a special place in your heart. He always will have that spot.
Sadly, you could not spend much time with them. Due to your father leaving Kingslanding soon after he had married Leana Velaryon.
It was not long after Rhaenyra got pregnant with Jace. She had married Ser Leanor Velaryon. You still remember. You waited excitedly to greet that little fellow. You also couldn’t witness his birth. That’s when you left Kingslanding. Left far away from court. To Pentos. It was a second home for your father as well as an escape. He had fought with his brother. A lot.
Leana was a kind mother. She tried her best to be and she really did a good job at raising you. Soon you had half siblings. Baela and Rheana. Your siblings mean everything to you. You love them with your whole heart. It was strange and beautiful at the same time. Having siblings. At first, you were annoyed at Baela. She always cried in her cradle, and you would have loved to strangle her. One day you nearly did.
Your parents were out. Flying on Vhagar and Caraxes to impress the owners of Pentos. Baela had awoken from her nap. She cried. Loud. It made you mad. Your ears hurt. Nightwing did not like the sound either. So, you decide to make her stop.
Walking towards her cradle you starred at her. Furious.
Suddenly, she was silent. Her eyes gazing at you with wonder.
A small smile on your lips.
Shaking your head you look at the far see beneath you. The wind caressing your skin. Nightwing roars gently. He knows that you are struggling with your feelings. He feels it. Dragons feel far more than you might want. It is a blessing and a curse how much your dragon feels what you feel.
“Iksan sȳz” I am fine.
He snorts. Nightwing knows you better than anyone else does.
You think back to the fight with your father. A sigh leaving your lips. He has been on edge lately. Viserys health has been declining. Ravens brought the news. All of you have already prepared for travel. Flying to Kingslanding after all this time…it will be…You cannot describe it. It has been a long time. Dragonstone was your home now. It would stay that way. At least for a while.
There has also been another problem. The sea snake has been fatally wounded. He might not survive his wounds. You already sensed that something far worse was on the horizon. Someone will use this to their advantage. Someone who might have interested to take the throne. The first person that comes to your mind is Otto. The hand of your uncle. When you were younger you always had a feeling that he lusted after throne. He even had proposed to marry you off to Aegon. Deamon did not have it. Refused it and had laughed at Otto for trying. Viserys had found it an good idea, however he respected his brother’s choice.
Viserys loved him. You could see it.
“Ivestragī īlva sōvegon lenton” Let us fly home.
Nightwing turns around. Flying back to Dragonstone. Looking at you for a short moment. His eyes gazing at you with worry.
You give him a small smile. A bond between a rider and the dragon is deep. Only death could break it. Your gaze goes to the night sky. Wondering if your letter has reached him. How is he doing? You have not seen him in years. The letters that you exchanged with another got less and lesser. Due to a lot of reasons. He once mentioned to you in one of your last letters that Ormund hated that fact that he and you were corresponding with each other. It also made that old geezer furious that he could not read what was written on your exchanged letters, due to it being written in high Valyrian.
Not long ago a letter from Daeron has reached you. Excitement has rushed through you as you broke the seal and read its contents.
Jorrāelagon Y/N,
Īlon haven't ūndegīon each tolie syt jēdri sir. Naenie ra emagon changed pār īlon mōrī emagon ūndegīon each tolie. Tessarion ēza grown rōvykta se kessa aderī sagon able naejot ivestragī nyke sōvegon va zirȳla. Skorkydoso rōva ēza nightwing grown? nyke assume rōva. Ziry would sagon wonderful lo nyke could ilagon ñuha laesi va ao. Īlē va moriot sīr sȳz naejot nyke. Sesīr skori īlin sepār riñar. Nyke hope iksā rytsa se biare. Hopefully īlon ūndegon each tolie arlī, aderī.
aōhon,
Daeron
Dear Y/N,
We haven't seen each other for years now. Many things have changed since we last have seen each other. Tessarion has grown bigger and will soon be able to let me fly on her. How large has Nightwing grown? I assume big. Bigger than Tessarion for sure. It would be wonderful if I could lay my eyes on you. You were always so kind to me. Even when we were just children. I hope you are healthy and happy. Hopefully we see each other again, soon.
Yours,
Daeron.
It was short. Longer than the last ones you had received from him. You had immediately written an answer. Attached it to a raven’s leg and sending it to Oldtown. Praying it will arrive save and untouched to him. You and Daeron had decided to stop sending letters for a while. That’s why you had not received or send letters to him as often as you had used to. Ormund has been watching him too closely. It had made Daeron uncomfortable. You had a feeling that there were things Daeron was keeping from you. However, you did not push. If it would be bad, he would have told you for sure. Or at least you hope that he would. You cannot know for sure.
Daeron has been on your mind more often. You liked him very much. More than liking if you were honest to yourself. This you had realized the last time you had seen him. Before he left for Oldtown to grow up under the Hightowers watch full gaze. Before the raft had grown bigger between your two houses.
The Hightowers tried everything to get more power into their hands. A realization you had when you had gotten older. The moment when Luke had taken Aemonds eye it dawned on you. The poisoned seeds had been sown and started to grow.
The hatred had only grown since then.
Jace and Luke did not get along with Aemond, Aegon and Dearon. You could tell Daeron did not like them at all. He hated them. Hated them for what they are.
Even you were not blind.
However, you kept your mouth shut.
They were part of your family. No matter what anyone else said. You loved them like siblings. Even if they weren’t. Your brothers.
Nightwing reached Dragonstone. Landing inside the cave, bringing you back safely. Getting off him you walked up, past the guards. Nightwing crawling into the deep of the cave. One of the guards followed you. He was your personal guard. “My Lady your father has asked for you”, the guard informed you.
You continue, not stopping walking.
“He did? Where is he?” The guard walked faster and was now walking beside you. You loved to make him run after you. It was fun making him sweat. He follows you into the hall. Rhaenyra standing Infront of the fireplace with Daemon. Both looking unsettled. Once they heard your footsteps they turned to you. Rhaenyra swallowing. Worry etched on her features. “What is wrong?” Your voice full of concern. Daemon gazes at you, tilting his head. He does look a little angry.
“They are challenging Luces’s claim. We must travel to Kingslanding. Now”
You gazed between them. First at Rhaenyra and then at Daemon. It was finally happening. Your father had warned you about this long ago. About the greed of the Hightowers. About what they are. Maybe he had done this because he was not blind to your feelings for a certain young man.
“I am ready”
The flight to Kingslanding was the calm before the storm. Jace and Luce flying by your side. With their dragons Vermax and Arrax. Your parents decided to sail, due to Rhaenyra being pregnant.
Arrax was the smallest, however also very fast. You often made bets with them who could fly faster to Kingslanding. One time Luce one. It made Jace and you lose your coins that day.
“I will be at the Dragonpit before all of you!”, Jace cheered. Vermax flying faster. Luce following fast behind him. Both laughing. You could not let them win this. Laughter bubbling up your throat. “We will see!” You leaned closer to Nightwing. Touching his long neck. His scales warm underneath your palm. “Letos usos sovos temos arlinio issa fasteros” Let us show them who is faster.
Nightwing roars. His wings beat faster through the sky. Faster and faster.
Getting closer to Luce and Jace you decide to fly underneath them. If you fly down, you could get faster. At least for a while. The wind whipped against your face. The ground came closer. Looking up you saw that you achieved what you wanted. You were now the first. Now you needed to make sure that it stayed that way.
“Ademmagon Nightwing“, you praise him.
He roars happy.
His wings fully outstretched. The sun shining on them. They looked so beautiful in the sun. He looked otherworldly.
Out of a sudden a shadow blocked out the sun. Looking up you see Jace flying above you.
“Good try big sis but I guess your efforts were in vain!”, he teased you. A big smile on his face.
You scowled.
“Jorarghugonhimos“ After him.
Nightwing followed Vermax. Flying faster. Now so close to the ground you found yourself flying over trees. You should probably tell Nightwing to fly higher, however in the heat of the moment you did not care. The trees bowed due to the strength of the wing beats.
Jace looked at you, a smile on his face. “I will win!”, he cheered.
Shaking your head you already saw Kingslanding getting closer. This will be close. Now you have to fly higher. It is dangerous flying that low. “Higeros“
Nightwing listened and flew higher. High above the city. Kingslanding was an incredible city. Not to your liking though. It always stinks here. In the distance you saw something. Close to the Dragonpit. No could it be?
After you dismounted Nightwing in the Dragonpit you walked up to Jace and Luce. “I still do not get how you managed to be here faster than us”, you say to Luce. He gives you a proud smile. “A good rider has his secrets.”
Jace ruffles his hair.
It was a sight to behold.
A moment only shared between the three of you. You smile with them. With them you cannot help but smile. They have a gift of making you smile.
Now however it was time. Time for the three of you to enter the Red Keep. The castle that held many memories. Good and bad. And many better and bad things were yet to come.
summary: lyonel doesn't understand why his new wife spends all her time in the library until he catches you studying a book about sex and decides to help teach you a lesson or two (4k)
characters: lyonel baratheon / fem!reader, ser duncan my beloved
contents: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, introvert!reader, grumpy!reader, brief mentions of bisexual!reader, also brief mentions of bisexual!lyonel (he kinda asks duncan for a threesome in this because ofc he would), not proofread cw for mentions of sex in the anatomical sense and smut 18+ (MDNI): virginity loss, switch!reader, lowkey sub!lyonel, unprotected sex, riding him in a library bc yum
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
Lyonel Baratheon had lived a long life of getting everything he ever wanted and, by all accounts, you were no exception.
He announced his betrothal to you — the only daughter of a wealthy lord in a long line of sons — like a game trophy after a hunting trip, waving an already dead thing in the air and expecting everyone else to clap. You were the dead thing in question, as distant and lifeless as a deer head mounted on the wall, while his house and yours rejoiced at the newfound alliance.
And Lyonel did what he always did: he got what he wanted. He got you. But not in any real way, though, not in any way that truly mattered — and the notion itself consumes his every waking thought. Because what right does the heir of Storm’s End have to spend his wedding night chasing after a princess with no real prospects like a stray puppy instead of the high lord he is?
It must be a cruel joke from the Gods, no doubt — to give the most sought-after bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms a woman who’d sooner be a maester than a bride.
“I would hope I have not proven so dull that you would rather seek solace in your books than in the company of your own lord husband,” Lyonel slurs as he stumbles into the expansive library, filling the serene quiet with his strong voice and even stronger scent of ale.
You tense on instinct at the suddenness of his presence, forcing yourself to swallow down the immediate annoyance that swells in your throat as you turn to flash the staggering man an artificial smile over your shoulder.
“What brings you here, Ser Lyonel?” you ask politely. “Don’t you have guests to entertain?”
“Aye. I do,” Lyonel nods, greying curls wild and clinging to his sweat-slick forehead. “And these guests are growing quite curious about your disappearance, wife.”
“Well, I think most of them are aware that I have very little taste for weddings and all their— revels,” you mumble and turn away again, propping your head on your fist and shifting uncomfortably in your seat.
Your ornate wedding dress, embellished in colors of both his house and yours, drapes heavily over your form while your corset strangles your ribcage. The combination of both is borderline suffocating; a slow death you long for now.
“Oh, trust me, I heard,” Lyonel scoffs. His boots scuff the cobbles as he stumbles the short distance towards you, golden cloak trailing behind him. “Neither is dancing, apparently. Or feasting, or laughing, or— anything that requires any bit of fun…”
You refuse to argue with him now. You just roll your eyes and turn the page, punctuating your annoyance with the quiet swishing sound of the heavy parchment.
You flinch when he leans suddenly over you, warmer than a fireplace, and replacing the sweet scent of your floral aromatics with the heavier scent of leather and whiskey. His strong arm reaches over your shoulder while his ringed pointer finger scans the page before you.
“Except for… bloodletting,” he reads, tapping the word with the pad of his finger. “Riveting stuff, I’m sure.”
You glare daggers at the man as he rounds the small table. “I happen to find studying quite riveting, Ser Lyonel. In a just world, I would’ve been a maester, not a bride.”
“Then why not become a septa?” he wonders with a lazy shrug, fanning out his golden cloak before dropping into the cushioned seat across from you. He throws his long legs over the table with two heavy thumps, crossing one boot over the other on top of your scrolls and opened books. “Or a fucking— silent sister?”
“Because I don’t care about devoting my life to worshipping the fucking Seven,” you answer with a scoff, missing the amused smile Lyonel gives you at your suddenly foul language when you turn back to the book before you. “I want to heal the sick. I want to travel the world. I want to take care of people—”
“Starting with your lord husband, perhaps?” Lyonel quips with a lopsided grin, raising his brows behind his wild curls as he reaches across the table with a ringed hand to slide the book away from you.
You meet his smug grin with a hardened stare.
“Perhaps not,” you answer in a monotone. Your eyes narrow into slits as you curl your fingers around the edge of the leather-bound book to drag it back across the table again. “The Master of Whispers tells me you’re quite popular at the brothels you frequent, Ser Lyonel. I believe he said you were ‘a drunken, lust-filled beast.’”
Lyonel’s grin blossoms behind his greying beard at the compliment. “Most women would hope for such a trait in a husband, wouldn’t they?”
You glare at him from beneath your lashes. His smile ebbs in an instant.
He clicks his lips against his teeth, bounces his brows, and reaches for a scroll idling at his side. He twists the thing between his fingers, if only to have something to do with his hands.
“So… I presume the bedding ceremony is off the table, then?” he wonders aloud, half-sheepish.
Your mouth flickers in the faintest hint of a smile — more cynical than anything, but still the first time he’s seen you the least bit pleased. “Despite what the whispers say, you are quite perceptive, Ser Lyonel.”
He nods with a mournful sigh and forces out a smile he hardly means.
“And now my watch begins…” the man mumbles the sacred oath of celibacy from the soldiers up north, tipping his wild head back and shutting his heavy eyes.
Your eyes trace over the soft edges of his profile in the interim. He’s like a statue carved from delicate clay, far more beautiful than you give him credit for, perhaps — but prettiest when he’s quiet.
Your father holds a two-week-long tourney to celebrate your wedding — you can’t think of a more poetic way to spend your honeymoon than the blood and carnage of daily jousts.
You wake on the fifth day, like all the rest, in your study. The scent of leather and old books hangs in the warming air as the golden sun rises over the trees, turning the swirls of dust into sparkling rays of light. It is not the gentle touch of your handmaiden that wakes you this time, but rather a foreign one — a large, calloused, strangely warm palm that spreads gently over the length of your shoulder blade.
Your heavy eyes flutter slowly open. You recognize, first, the dull ache in the base of your neck from where you’d spent the night slumped over the desk. It isn’t until the haze of sleep has cleared that you spot the tall stranger crouched softly at your side. A gasped breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of him there.
“Who are you?” you wonder aloud in a voice gruff with sleep, with your cheek still smushed against the opened book you use as a makeshift pillow.
“Apologies, princess— Uh, my lady,” the man with the chopped strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes stammers. He’s much too tall and much too burly to cower before you the way he does now. “I’m Dunk— Ser Duncan.”
A quiet groan rumbles deep in your throat as you sit up straight again, stretching the ache in your spine and peeling the heavy page from your cheek.
“I don’t mean to… intrude,” he apologizes, wide eyes darting between your sleep-worn face and the heavy book before you. “But it— It’s your husband, my land. Ser Lyonel, he’s… He’s grown quite drunk. And your father— He sent me so that maybe you could—”
“Seven fucking Hells.”
Duncan flinches at the suddenly brash language from such a quiet, delicate-looking girl. He thought Lyonel was just being drunk and dramatic when he said you’d sooner take the Night’s Watch oath than recite wedding vows; you’re hardly fit for a bride, much less a princess.
Your chair scrapes hard against the cobbles as you rise from your seat, still in your dress from the night before and your sleep-wild hair as you storm out of the library. Duncan follows close behind, stuck in the smoke the fire in your strides leaves behind.
“My father was right— the big oaf,” you mumble cynically to yourself as you bound down the set of spiral stairs, clutching your skirt in your fists. “I would’ve been better off becoming a fucking septa, considering I’m going to be spending the rest of my life chasing after my husband like he’s a child.”
Duncan trails behind you like a lost puppy. He’s not exactly sure how to respond, only that Lyonel once told him that, when a highborn says something, you agree.
“Aye, my lady,” the tall man nods and clears his throat. He flinches at the morning sun that hits him in the face when you throw the heavy door open, catching it before it can shut behind you. “He can be— quite the handful—”
Your rushed strides down the dewy grass never slow as you throw the stranger a curious look over your shoulder. Expansive tents of a hundred different colors pass by on either side of you.
“You’re the one who’s been looking after him, then?” you ask, then follow quickly when he gives you a puppy-like look of confusion in response. “The one who’s been making sure he’s not drinking himself to death, I mean?”
“Oh. Aye, my lady,” Duncan nods rapidly. “We met at a tourney a few months back. We’ve become quite good friends… I suppose.”
You bounce your brows and turn away. “When my brother said a long-legged lowborn with a pretty face was following my husband like an obedient hound, I assume he was talking about a whore—”
Your garish language stops the man in his tracks as you duck into the Baratheon tent, donned a vivid golden color, and already swelling with chaos and the overwhelming scent of steak and ale despite the early morning.
Sunlight peeks through in a golden-white sliver to announce your arrival. You can’t help but cower when the heads inside snap suddenly towards you, and then to the tall knight that enters just behind. The applause from surrounding patrons slows to a stop. Lyonel does, too, from where he stands on top of the center table — shirtless and shining with sweat — with one hand holding a cup of ale and the other hanging onto the dim chandelier above his head.
His scruffy chest heaves with panted breaths as if he’d just been dancing, or singing, or both; and you assume the applause must’ve been for him. You’ve quickly come to learn that the applause is always for him.
Lyonel meets your scowling face with a wide grin, as lopsided as the antlered crown sitting crooked on his wild head. “Ah! There she is! My blushing bride!”
Your frown deepens as you watch him stagger off the table, using nearby hands to brace himself as he hobbles off the chairs. The droning of a thousand conversations fills the crowded tent a second later, along with the strolling minstrels playing in the center of the dance floor.
“It’s hardly break of day— How are you already drunk?” you ask him in a monotone.
“I fear I’ve not yet shaken the wine from last night, my lady,” Lyonel confesses with a smile.
“And the night before that?” you wonder rhetorically, squinting at the staggering man as he towers just ahead of you.
“And the night before that,” he concurs with a slow nod and a laugh he can hardly contain. “See? We know each other so well already, don’t we, wife?”
He knocks the wind out of you when he wraps you in a sudden embrace, careful not to spill his ale while knocking you back a few steps. He wraps a strong arm around your shoulder and presses you into his bare chest, reeking of sweat, sweet wine, and spiced oils.
Your stomach does a backflip for a reason you can’t name — the feeling is much too warm to be excitement, and far too sparkling to be disgust. You struggle to place it as he sways you in place, vaguely in time with the violin across the tent. You keep your hands balled into fists at your sides all the while.
“Can I tell you something, wife?”
The term spills from his mouth like he’s still getting used to it, like it still tastes a bit sour on his tongue.
He continues when you say nothing, jutting back his bearded chin to peer down at you with glassy hazel eyes.
“I heed not what the whispers say,” he confesses in a whisper, and you try not to flinch when his warm, whiskey-coated breath fans over your cheek.
“The court may prattle on that you are too homely— or that your affections are much better suited for women than men— or that you’d rather marry your dusty old books than any living soul… Yet here I stand… Trying hopelessly to catch your attention,” he murmurs, softened eyes darting back and forth between both of yours. “A strange fool I must be, hm?”
Lyonel looks at you then like it’s your turn to speak, though you’re not quite sure what an adequate response would be — or why, exactly, his words make the warm feeling inside you bloom.
“…Thank you?” you say, with an upward inflection and a confused glimmer in your gaze.
Lyonel goes to speak, but his attention catches something past your shoulder.
“Hedge Knight!” he greets with a newfound grin, cradling you to his bare chest as he urges you to face the man standing just behind you. You’re half-smothered in his pale shoulder while he talks into his cup of ale, right before he takes a lengthy sip. “When the hell did you get here, you fool?”
“Me?” Duncan asks, blue eyes darting wildly between the two of you. “I’ve— I’ve been here the whole time, my lord. You saw me just a few moments ago—”
“Ah, get in here, you big bastard,” Lyonel laughs with ale sparkling on his mouth and mustache, motioning wildly with his half-gone cup. “There’s room in here for one more.”
Duncan exhales an awkward laugh, smiling with his crooked teeth.
Lyonel’s smile fades in an instant. “I’m not kidding.”
Duncan’s face floods with a wordless look of shock.
“Yes, he is,” you grumble like a storm cloud, shoving the man off of you and letting your palms linger against his scruffy chest a moment longer than you needed to.
You stalk off again with a swirled look on your face, as if you’ve just tasted something sour. You’re only able to catch your breath again when you’re back outside, apart from the stench of sweat and ale, and away from Lyonel’s all-consuming touch.
You shut yourself away with your books, just like you always do, and let the written words swallow you whole. You abandon your studies on healing and medicine, and instead drag a dusty, leatherbound book from the depths of your shelves — A Compendium of the Varied Marital Postures of Procreative Union by Maester Vaellyn, from roughly a century or more ago.
The illustrations of sexual acts, and the descriptions of such sinfulness, stir within you the same warmth you’d had when you saw Lyonel in the tent that morning — in his stupid antlered helm, with that stupid look on his stupid face, and that stupid confession that took your breath away for a reason you still can’t name.
You settle into your reading nook with a foreign ache in your stomach — lounging on the cushions beside the large window overlooking the candlelit tents and glittering black waters outside — and delve into your book to relieve the aching.
“It is observed by certain learned men, that a wife’s fullest ecstasy is more readily attained when due regard is given to her most delicate seat of sensation—”
Your heart lurches into your throat when the heavy wooden entrance creaks open and shut again. You flare red-hot when Lyonel saunters in, already embarrassed for something you haven’t yet been caught doing. You slam the heavy book shut and squeeze your thighs together to soothe the dull pounding between them.
“I have been trying to amuse you— as my wife and all,” Lyonel starts through panted breaths, chest heaving beneath his golden, quilted gambeson as he leans against the door. He tilts his bearded chin down and peers at you with wild hazel eyes as he spits, “But my patience with this, dear wife, has begun to grow quite thin.”
“My sincerest apologies for wounding your pride, dear husband,” you spit back. “But I’m quite busy in here.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Lyonel says with an emotionless laugh as he closes the distance between you on long legs. “But I’ve been dealing with those cunts on my own all day—”
“That’s my family you’re speaking of.”
“—I have supped and I have smiled amongst the big oafs all morning, and they have near driven me to madness for it,” he continues, half-crazed, as he looms over you. With a sarcastic, sickly sweet smile, he hisses, “So, if it pleases the lady, come do your duty as my wife, and put me out of my misery—”
You go to make a joke, one about putting him down like a sick dog, but he’s jerking your book from your hands before you can.
“Lyonel!” you shout.
“What is it this time that’s been keeping you all day, hm?” he calls over his shoulder as he stalks off in the opposite direction. “Is it the herbs again? Oh, no, it’s the one about leeches, isn’t it? Or better yet, maggots—”
“Give it back!” you scold, scrambling from your nook to follow after him.
“Let’s give it a read, shall we?” he hums with a wide grin and rushes onto a nearby chair when you hurry suddenly towards him. He’s bounding up the table before you can reach him, and flicking through the thick parchment with his thumb. “How about… here.”
He clears his throat and starts to recite, while you stand underneath him and wait for the ground to swallow you whole.
“Let not a husband hasten to apply immediate stimulation to the wife’s clitoris—” Lyonel reads in a whimsical tone of voice, then cuts himself off with a pleased look on his face. “Oh, so it’s that kind of book, is it?”
“Give it back,” you spit.
“I’m not quite done,” he lilts and returns to the page. “—The initial attentions should be directed towards the breasts, whose manipulation increases warmth and quickens the pulse— blah, blah, blah— Only once general arousal has been well-established should focus be given to the petals of her womanhood, with soft kisses and patient devotion…”
Lyonel trails off with a crooked grin, shutting the heavy book with a loud clap that fills the suffocating silence of the study. You meet his smile with a hardened glower and fists that tremble at your sides, burning red-hot beneath your dress from embarrassment and rage alike.
“I know I have grown quite fond of teasing you, princess, but this…?” he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “This is truly invigorating, my lady.”
“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss through gritted teeth.
“I assure you, I am being uncharacteristically sincere at this moment,” Lyonel says as he climbs off the table again. The scent of leather and wine stained perpetually on his skin snatches the breath from your lungs for the second time when he towers over you again. “I, for one, am elated that you’re not focusing on your studies for a change. Though if you wanted a lesson on… release, you could’ve just come to me— I am your husband after all—”
“I don’t need a lesson,” you argue.
He arches a heavy brow. “Is that so?”
Your eyes widen at the amused look he gives you, and you stumble hopelessly over yourself to get the words out. “I— I only mean that—”
Lyonel grins, eager to hear your excuse.
You frown.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you retort like a stubborn child, snatching your book from his grasp and clutching the leather to your chest.
Lyonel holds his gently calloused palms out in surrender.
“No, my lady, you don’t… But I fear you’d be lying to both of us if you said you weren’t at least a little aroused right now…” His smug smile returns as he scrunches the bridge of his nose. “Makes two of us.”
“Is sex all you think about?”
“Asks the girl reading a book on sex… Funny how that works, right?”
“I truly didn’t think I could regret marrying you more than I did on our wedding day,” you deadpan. “But, alas, you are finding new ways to annoy me.”
Lyonel laughs and turns on his heel to walk away. Only when his attention is off of you can you take a full breath in.
“Fine. I’ll leave. Even though we both know you don’t want me to,” the man argues as he ambles slowly back to the entrance. He pauses at the door, throwing you a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Though, to tell you the truth, I am not above consummating our marriage in this study, dear wife—”
“I thought you were leaving,” you say in a monotone.
“I’m going,” he assures, but takes his time twisting the knob and swinging open the door, just waiting for you to give in to what he knows you want.
You inhale slowly through your nose and swallow through the lump in your throat. “Where is your helm, Ser Lyonel?” you hear yourself ask him before he’s gone again.
His wild head snaps over his shoulder. His brows lower in a confused look because, by all accounts, he was not expecting your following words after such a carnal conversation to be about his goddamn ancestral headdress.
“W-What?”
“Your antlered crown,” you answer firmly. “Where is it?”
“At the… The feasting table,” he shrugs. “Why?”
“Retrieve it,” you tell him, and leave very little room for argument. “And return to me here. And then you can tell all your highborn friends that you’re the first lord to have his bedding ceremony in a study—”
Lyonel’s gone before you can properly get the words out, hurrying back to the throne room to retrieve his crown, and not asking another question as to why you want it so desperately.
You make a pliant, obedient boy out of the man they call The Laughing Storm, as you ride him in the reading nook — with his trousers unbuckled and his freckled shoulders pressing hard against the cool glass behind him. The antlered helm sitting crooked on his curls taps gently against the window with each pass of your hips over his lap, down his thighs and back up again.
You’re still getting used to the feeling of him inside you. The sharp stinging has since faded into a dull ache somewhere in the depths of your stomach, which is drowned out by a far more overwhelming pleasure stirring warmly somewhere much deeper.
“Go down a little,” you command, digging crescent shapes onto his pale skin as you brace yourself on his shoulders.
Lyonel’s glassy hazel eyes flit between your face and where his hand disappears under your bunched-up slip, struggling to maneuver his thumb exactly the way you want him to. The pad of his finger finds a pearl-like button there; he presses hard onto the delicate thing and awaits your reaction.
“There?” he wonders aloud, almost sheepishly so, then grins wide when you tip your head back with a parted mouth. Your soft moan fills the quiet study a second later, along with Lyonel’s breathless laughter. “Yeah… There you go…”
“Now… Put your mouth here—”
You grab a fistful of his curls and urge him towards your breasts, which stand at attention and wait to be kissed, like the book from before — left abandoned somewhere on the desk — said they might be.
“Full of commands tonight, aren’t we, my lady?” Lyonel quips, but leans forward to flick his tongue over your pebbled nipple anyway.
You twitch on top of him when his teeth scrape over the delicate skin there, which makes your hips buck harder into his hand, which makes his thumb press harder to your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair and on his shoulder, keeping him pressed impossibly close against you.
“It’s coming,” you whimper in warning, when you feel a strange knot tightening in the very pit of your stomach.
“Wait for me,” Lyonel pleads through panted breaths, half-muffled against you, because he longs to feel you fluttering around him when he finally cums inside you.
“No,” you answer stubbornly.
“Alright then…”
He turns his head to pay attention to your unkissed breast and groans against you when he hears you whine. He presses harder to your clit to add to your pleasure there. You still suddenly on top of him a second later, pussy clenching as it gushes suddenly around his cock.
“Oh, fuck…” you whimper, half-frightened, when the high suddenly hits you.
Your features screw in a pained sort of look as the warm waves of an orgasm wash over you. You’re only able to take another breath in when it ebbs a few seconds later. Your eyes widen in a look of not-so-subtle shock down at Lyonel when he pulls off of your breast with a quick smack — eyes heavy and mouth swollen as he smirks up at you.
“Oh, fuck,” you repeat through panted breaths. “How are people not doing this all the time?”
“I presume some people do, my lady,” he laughs.
“…Can we?” you ask.
He grins wider at your naivety, which he didn’t think was possible for such a smart thing like you.
“Well, I don’t know about all the time, princess,” he pants with a lust-drunk smile. “But I do know we have the rest of the night.”
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summary: Some time has passed since you got married to Roose. The war is still going on, and other threats and schemes are made in the dark.
note: I am back! It is short but I believe it is a good start to get back on track! I think we can all agree that it was a good thing that Ramsay died in this story. He cannot be alive if I want this to get a happy ending. english is not my native language! Please enjoy!
warnings: mention of sexual encounters, pregnancy, talks of an heir, war, mention of death, 18+
words: 801
previous part
How much time has passed since you got married to your husband? Months? It must be a few months already. The days are getting colder and the winter is creeping closer and closer.
Being Lady Bolton has changed you. A little. You cannot deny it. You have grown fond of him. Of his attitude. And he of yours. Over the weeks, he and you have gotten into some fights. Fights that have ended in wild pleasure when the both of you were alone in your tent. Roose took all the changes he had to take you. Make you his. Over and over again.
He was desperate. Desperate to make you pregnant. After his bastard son died, he was left with no heir.
You had heard of Ramsay afterwards. He was not kind. A cruel monster. At least some said so. Whispered. Afraid that Roose might hear them and punish them for their gossip. However, you believe that Roose knew. He knew what his bastard son was. Knew how cruel and vile he was. He simple did not care.
Roose made sure to dress you in the colour of his house. As Lady Bolton you shall dress accordingly. He whispered into your ear after the third time you had shared a bed together. The following day he had gotten you a pink dress. Soon you found yourself drowning in pink and purple dresses. Only a few were blue or different colours. You could say he was moulding you into the perfect image of a Lady of the house Bolton. In your heart you however you were a Stark through and through. Something that would never change.
You got out of bed. The noise outside your tent drowning out everything else. All were preparing to march again. Roose awakened from his slight slumber and watched as you dressed yourself. His hungry eyes on your butt before it disappeared behind your undergrown. Last night he had his way. Well for a while. It was pleasurable taking the rails in your own hands last night. Roose did not mind. He let you do as you pleased. Every second he enjoyed more than the last.
“You are staring”, you chuckle.
The rustling of sheets catches your ear as he gets out of bed. Walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. Hands resting on the slight swell on your belly. His warm breath fanning over your neck. You could feel him smile against your skin.
“I am allowed to stare at you as much as I want. Whenever I want and wherever I want. Nobody has the right to tell me otherwise. Not even you, my dear wife.”
Roose breathes you in. His head buried in the crook of your neck.
Sometimes you wonder who has the rails in this marriage. He or you? Nobody knows. Honestly you do not care anymore. Things have changed. You have changed. Barely remembering how your life war before Roose. The war has changed all of you. And it will not be over soon. The Lannisters have not given up yet.
The war has got more brutal over time. Many loses have happened. There has also been another problem. Rob has married. The wrong woman. Now at odds with the Freys the war has only worsened. There is also another thing. Roose has been receiving Ravens. Ravens with messages that he showed to no one. Not even you. You already feared the worst. Betrayal. You have no evidence though. You must still search for it, however every time you search for the letters, they are gone.
Roose must burn them. Smart.
He removes his hands from you after pressing a kiss against your neck. Getting dressed himself.
When you both are ready you leave your tent behind. Walking next to him towards Robbs. Another Raven has arrived. A Raven with news from Winterfell. It was a letter from Catelyn. She left for Winterfell to stay with Bran and Rickon. Robb had allowed it.
You reached his tent and were allowed to enter. Since he got married, it happened often that you were not allowed to enter his tent. Already knowing why, you always smiled and told the guard to tell your cousin that you had wanted to speak with him.
Today he was sitting on his chair, gazing at the maps before him. His queen wife next to him. You liked her. Sadly, not the one he should have married.
“Your majesty, a letter from your mother”
Roose gave the letter to Robb. Both man gazing at one another before he broke the seal and opened the letter. Robb looked immediately worried when he read what was written on it. When he looked up, he gazed at you. His face has gotten pale. “Bran and Rickon are sick”
Summary: Years have passed since you last went to Kingslanding. Times have changed and other powers have now control over the capital. A letter from an old friend reaches you. Soon the tides will change. War is already on the horizon. And only time will tell how this will end.
note: Please be merciful. I wrote that at 1 in the morning. This will be a longer series. At least that is the plan for now. English is not my native language!
warnings: mention of fights, mention of manipulation, mention of hatred
The moon shined brightly in the sky as you rode on your dragon. Your hands holding onto the rails. Anger raged inside you. The fight with your father, Daemon Targaryen, has left its mark on you. You had wanted to scream at him. Hit his chest with your fists over and over again. Throw all the things at him, that you never dared to speak to him. It was something you wanted to do often. He was not easy, your father. Daemon could be honourable, loving and kind when he wanted to. However, he was not always easy to connect with. At least not for you. If that had to do with your mother or something else, you did not know.
All you knew was that, after your mother had died, he had done everything to make sure that your other relatives could not talk to you. In any way. Letters were not allowed. Later, you found out that he had done that on purpose to get on their nerves. He hated them. Wanted to erase every memory or connection you could have had with them.
Your mother. Your mother was Lady Rhea Royce.
You do not remember much about her. She died a few months later after you were born. Due to an accident. Or so they say.
Nothing about you is her. Your hair is different; your eyes are different. Nothing screams House Royce about you. You are a Targaryen through and through. Your dragon, Nightwing, hatched underneath your cradle. It was a wonder. Sheer luck, some might say. Not all were as lucky as this. Your sister Rheana was not lucky when it came to her dragon egg. Your dragon grew up alongside you. His scales a dark violet. Eyes a dark purple. Nightwing had black wings and big horns on his head.
He grew quickly. Feasting greedily on everything he got fed. His favourite were cows.
Now he is big. Bigger than Vermax.
Daemon took you to Kingslanding after your mother had died. You grew up there. Living alongside the other Targaryen’s. You have many cousins. At first only Rhaenyra, who always treated you kindly. She was always sweet to you and read you stories when you were a child. She became…your mother in a sense. She was the mother that you never had. Later Alicent, your uncles new Lady wife got pregnant. She treated you with kindness too, however somehow it felt more calculated. It felt honest and dishonest at the same time. Her kindness felt wrong.
Aegon came into the picture. Back then you did not understand what that meant. For all of you. For Rhaenyra who had been named heir. A women will never rule. Whispers were everywhere. Aegon shall rule one day. A man on the iron throne. A King.
You were still young. Blind to what was happening behind the scenes.Many more cousins came into the picture. Aemond, Helaena and Daeron.
Daeron was your favourite, alongside Helaena. Daeron and you played together whenever you were able to. Talking about Dragons and Old Valyria. You even tried teaching him some high Valyrian. Daeron was not really good at it at first. However, he was a fast learner. Once he got the hook of it, he even outmatched your skills. You loved his eyes and beautiful hair. Hightower signature but you did not care. Daeron had a special place in your heart. He always will have that spot.
Sadly, you could not spend much time with them. Due to your father leaving Kingslanding soon after he had married Leana Velaryon.
It was not long after Rhaenyra got pregnant with Jace. She had married Ser Leanor Velaryon. You still remember. You waited excitedly to greet that little fellow. You also couldn’t witness his birth. That’s when you left Kingslanding. Left far away from court. To Pentos. It was a second home for your father as well as an escape. He had fought with his brother. A lot.
Leana was a kind mother. She tried her best to be and she really did a good job at raising you. Soon you had half siblings. Baela and Rheana. Your siblings mean everything to you. You love them with your whole heart. It was strange and beautiful at the same time. Having siblings. At first, you were annoyed at Baela. She always cried in her cradle, and you would have loved to strangle her. One day you nearly did.
Your parents were out. Flying on Vhagar and Caraxes to impress the owners of Pentos. Baela had awoken from her nap. She cried. Loud. It made you mad. Your ears hurt. Nightwing did not like the sound either. So, you decide to make her stop.
Walking towards her cradle you starred at her. Furious.
Suddenly, she was silent. Her eyes gazing at you with wonder.
A small smile on your lips.
Shaking your head you look at the far see beneath you. The wind caressing your skin. Nightwing roars gently. He knows that you are struggling with your feelings. He feels it. Dragons feel far more than you might want. It is a blessing and a curse how much your dragon feels what you feel.
“Iksan sȳz” I am fine.
He snorts. Nightwing knows you better than anyone else does.
You think back to the fight with your father. A sigh leaving your lips. He has been on edge lately. Viserys health has been declining. Ravens brought the news. All of you have already prepared for travel. Flying to Kingslanding after all this time…it will be…You cannot describe it. It has been a long time. Dragonstone was your home now. It would stay that way. At least for a while.
There has also been another problem. The sea snake has been fatally wounded. He might not survive his wounds. You already sensed that something far worse was on the horizon. Someone will use this to their advantage. Someone who might have interested to take the throne. The first person that comes to your mind is Otto. The hand of your uncle. When you were younger you always had a feeling that he lusted after throne. He even had proposed to marry you off to Aegon. Deamon did not have it. Refused it and had laughed at Otto for trying. Viserys had found it an good idea, however he respected his brother’s choice.
Viserys loved him. You could see it.
“Ivestragī īlva sōvegon lenton” Let us fly home.
Nightwing turns around. Flying back to Dragonstone. Looking at you for a short moment. His eyes gazing at you with worry.
You give him a small smile. A bond between a rider and the dragon is deep. Only death could break it. Your gaze goes to the night sky. Wondering if your letter has reached him. How is he doing? You have not seen him in years. The letters that you exchanged with another got less and lesser. Due to a lot of reasons. He once mentioned to you in one of your last letters that Ormund hated that fact that he and you were corresponding with each other. It also made that old geezer furious that he could not read what was written on your exchanged letters, due to it being written in high Valyrian.
Not long ago a letter from Daeron has reached you. Excitement has rushed through you as you broke the seal and read its contents.
Jorrāelagon Y/N,
Īlon haven't ūndegīon each tolie syt jēdri sir. Naenie ra emagon changed pār īlon mōrī emagon ūndegīon each tolie. Tessarion ēza grown rōvykta se kessa aderī sagon able naejot ivestragī nyke sōvegon va zirȳla. Skorkydoso rōva ēza nightwing grown? nyke assume rōva. Ziry would sagon wonderful lo nyke could ilagon ñuha laesi va ao. Īlē va moriot sīr sȳz naejot nyke. Sesīr skori īlin sepār riñar. Nyke hope iksā rytsa se biare. Hopefully īlon ūndegon each tolie arlī, aderī.
aōhon,
Daeron
Dear Y/N,
We haven't seen each other for years now. Many things have changed since we last have seen each other. Tessarion has grown bigger and will soon be able to let me fly on her. How large has Nightwing grown? I assume big. Bigger than Tessarion for sure. It would be wonderful if I could lay my eyes on you. You were always so kind to me. Even when we were just children. I hope you are healthy and happy. Hopefully we see each other again, soon.
Yours,
Daeron.
It was short. Longer than the last ones you had received from him. You had immediately written an answer. Attached it to a raven’s leg and sending it to Oldtown. Praying it will arrive save and untouched to him. You and Daeron had decided to stop sending letters for a while. That’s why you had not received or send letters to him as often as you had used to. Ormund has been watching him too closely. It had made Daeron uncomfortable. You had a feeling that there were things Daeron was keeping from you. However, you did not push. If it would be bad, he would have told you for sure. Or at least you hope that he would. You cannot know for sure.
Daeron has been on your mind more often. You liked him very much. More than liking if you were honest to yourself. This you had realized the last time you had seen him. Before he left for Oldtown to grow up under the Hightowers watch full gaze. Before the raft had grown bigger between your two houses.
The Hightowers tried everything to get more power into their hands. A realization you had when you had gotten older. The moment when Luke had taken Aemonds eye it dawned on you. The poisoned seeds had been sown and started to grow.
The hatred had only grown since then.
Jace and Luke did not get along with Aemond, Aegon and Dearon. You could tell Daeron did not like them at all. He hated them. Hated them for what they are.
Even you were not blind.
However, you kept your mouth shut.
They were part of your family. No matter what anyone else said. You loved them like siblings. Even if they weren’t. Your brothers.
Nightwing reached Dragonstone. Landing inside the cave, bringing you back safely. Getting off him you walked up, past the guards. Nightwing crawling into the deep of the cave. One of the guards followed you. He was your personal guard. “My Lady your father has asked for you”, the guard informed you.
You continue, not stopping walking.
“He did? Where is he?” The guard walked faster and was now walking beside you. You loved to make him run after you. It was fun making him sweat. He follows you into the hall. Rhaenyra standing Infront of the fireplace with Daemon. Both looking unsettled. Once they heard your footsteps they turned to you. Rhaenyra swallowing. Worry etched on her features. “What is wrong?” Your voice full of concern. Daemon gazes at you, tilting his head. He does look a little angry.
“They are challenging Luces’s claim. We must travel to Kingslanding. Now”
You gazed between them. First at Rhaenyra and then at Daemon. It was finally happening. Your father had warned you about this long ago. About the greed of the Hightowers. About what they are. Maybe he had done this because he was not blind to your feelings for a certain young man.
“I am ready”
The flight to Kingslanding was the calm before the storm. Jace and Luce flying by your side. With their dragons Vermax and Arrax. Your parents decided to sail, due to Rhaenyra being pregnant.
Arrax was the smallest, however also very fast. You often made bets with them who could fly faster to Kingslanding. One time Luce one. It made Jace and you lose your coins that day.
“I will be at the Dragonpit before all of you!”, Jace cheered. Vermax flying faster. Luce following fast behind him. Both laughing. You could not let them win this. Laughter bubbling up your throat. “We will see!” You leaned closer to Nightwing. Touching his long neck. His scales warm underneath your palm. “Letos usos sovos temos arlinio issa fasteros” Let us show them who is faster.
Nightwing roars. His wings beat faster through the sky. Faster and faster.
Getting closer to Luce and Jace you decide to fly underneath them. If you fly down, you could get faster. At least for a while. The wind whipped against your face. The ground came closer. Looking up you saw that you achieved what you wanted. You were now the first. Now you needed to make sure that it stayed that way.
“Ademmagon Nightwing“, you praise him.
He roars happy.
His wings fully outstretched. The sun shining on them. They looked so beautiful in the sun. He looked otherworldly.
Out of a sudden a shadow blocked out the sun. Looking up you see Jace flying above you.
“Good try big sis but I guess your efforts were in vain!”, he teased you. A big smile on his face.
You scowled.
“Jorarghugonhimos“ After him.
Nightwing followed Vermax. Flying faster. Now so close to the ground you found yourself flying over trees. You should probably tell Nightwing to fly higher, however in the heat of the moment you did not care. The trees bowed due to the strength of the wing beats.
Jace looked at you, a smile on his face. “I will win!”, he cheered.
Shaking your head you already saw Kingslanding getting closer. This will be close. Now you have to fly higher. It is dangerous flying that low. “Higeros“
Nightwing listened and flew higher. High above the city. Kingslanding was an incredible city. Not to your liking though. It always stinks here. In the distance you saw something. Close to the Dragonpit. No could it be?
After you dismounted Nightwing in the Dragonpit you walked up to Jace and Luce. “I still do not get how you managed to be here faster than us”, you say to Luce. He gives you a proud smile. “A good rider has his secrets.”
Jace ruffles his hair.
It was a sight to behold.
A moment only shared between the three of you. You smile with them. With them you cannot help but smile. They have a gift of making you smile.
Now however it was time. Time for the three of you to enter the Red Keep. The castle that held many memories. Good and bad. And many better and bad things were yet to come.
summary: You fulfil your duty and marry Roose, your wedding night turning quite intense. Sandor warns you about Roose again and news from Winterfell reach you.
note: I hope you can agree with me that Roose definitely has a breeding kink (that man is desperate for an heir). I also see that he loves to bite. Please enjoy!;)
Catelyn braids your hair, her hands moving carefully and gentle. You catch her gaze through the small mirror that is placed on the table in front of you. It reminds you of a time that is long in the past now. When you were little, Catelyn sometimes brushed your hair and braided it. Complementing you by telling you that you are a beautiful young lady.
You were born before any of the other stark girls. Your mother died, early due to a sickness. You were still a baby when that happened. Ned Stark took you in, raising you as if you were his. Catelyn did the same. You enjoyed the attention you had gotten from them.
Soon you weren’t alone anymore. Jon and Robb came to the family, and you loved them both very much. Finally, siblings to play with. All of them are siblings to you, even though you are cousins. What didn’t pass by you was the hatred Catelyn had for Jon. Jon always wanted Catelyn to love him, but she never did. She couldn’t look at him without thinking about the fact that Ned had fucked someone else. There only was one time where she showed Jon some kind of love and that was when he had gotten the pox.
That was the only time when you found her sitting on his bed and praying to the seven for him to make it. When he was back on his feet, she went to treat him like she did before.
You felt bad and always tried to cheer Jon up to make it easier for him. He always pushed himself way to hard just to please everyone around him.
Your wedding dress is fitting perfectly on you. You love what you are looking at. The long sleeves are your favorite and you like the feeling of the fabric on your body. Now gazing in the mirror some part of you wished that your hole family would still be together. No war.
There would be no need for it. No need because Robb wouldn’t need an army to save Ned, Sansa and back then you. Now Ned is dead, Sansa is still in Kingslanding and you are here. Soon to be Lady Bolton.
“I am ready” Cat nods and helps you stand up. You both share a hug and she wipes away her tears. She is like the mother that you never had, and you are glad that she is here right now. “Come, I am sure they are already waiting eagerly for you” She leads you outside your tent, leading you to the Septon. You see many Lords standing around the Septon. They will all witness your wedding. Robb smiles proudly at you. You return it. Catelyn still holds your arm, and you are glad she does.
Soon your eyes settle onto Roose. He is already gazing at you, when your eyes settle on him. An intensity is in his gaze that makes a shiver run down your spine. He rarely shows any emotions, but when he does then it is intense.
His eyes slowly move up and down your body, taking in every detail of your dress. He himself is wearing his regular attire. Black ringmail and a red-spotted pale pink cloak, trimmed with white fur. He looks familiar and it suits him. When you reach Roose you feel Cat squeeze your arm for one final time before she let’s go. She takes her place next to Robb, gazing at Roose and you. He takes your hands in his and the Septon binds your hands in one. “I take this man” Roose and you speak your vows, gazing into each other’s eyes. “I take this woman” His hands feel warm in yours. Only now you notice how short his fingers are.
“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever”, you both speak in unison. When the vows are over you lean closer, Roose following you. His lips pressing onto yours for a short moment. A warm feeling spreads through your chest and you cannot hide how happy you are in this moment. Rooses lips feel soft against yours. The kiss is over way to soon, and you open your eyes again.
Now you are husband and wife.
The feast is small. Normally there would be a great feast and many drunk man. Well, there are still many drunk man. Laughing and congratulating you and Roose. “Lady Bolton, you look lovely… Don’t go to rough on our Roose. I have heard that you have quite the temper”, Lord Karstark says. You smile at Lord Karstark knowing well that he is only half serious. Luna resting beside you. “Don’t worry. I am sure my dear husband likes my temper and roughness”, you joke. Lord Karstark laughs at your words. Roose nipping from his wine. You don't notice the flicker of emotions behind his eyes.
Roose requested to get hippocras for your wedding. Robb fulfilled that request, even though it wasn’t easy. Your dear cousin, as well as you, were still struggling with the fact that Theon had betrayed you. The life of Rickon and Bran still on the line. That’s also one of the reasons why the wedding feast isn’t that big. There are plenty of more reasons, but they don’t matter. Not to you.
You are a Bolton now. Lady Bolton. It feels strange. Deep down you will always be a Stark, the wolf inside of you will never die. No matter who your husband is.
A duty you still must fulfil is consummating the marriage.
It makes you worried if you are honest. You never did anything like this. Never saw others doing it. You touched yourself and you really enjoyed it but that was it. Nothing more ever happened. Roose is quiet, only sometimes when he believes you aren’t looking, he gazes at you. His ghost grey eyes taking in every inch of your body. You lift your wine glass to your lips, and you take a small sip. “My dear lady wife, your dress is gorgeous. It flatters you”, Roose says softly. Your eyes widen in surprise at his words. You didn’t expect him to compliment you. Out of nowhere you feel your cheeks getting warm. Even you aren’t immune to compliments. “Thank you, husband.” You give him a warm and honest smile.
Roose returns your smile, it is smaller however you see the warmth reaching his eyes. Never did you believe that he had warmth inside him. He always seemed so expressionless and hard to red. It feels kind of addicting to get short glances into his emotions.
Your stomach growls softly and you chuckle. The food on your plate screaming at you to eat it. Roose can’t hide his amusement and watches you eat for a while before he continues eating himself.
Luna still rests at your side. Protecting you and watching out for you. Robb approaches you and smiles. “Lord Bolton, Cousin, I hope you are enjoying yourself? I know it isn’t much, still I hope you are happy” Your wolf comes to Robb and greets him, he scratches her ear. “Robb, I enjoy myself very much and don’t worry about the feast not being big enough. It is alright. You did everything you could, and I am grateful for that”, you tell him. Robb looks relieved and then looks to Roose. “Lord Bolton, I wish to discuss something important with you on the morrow. And please enjoy your night. Both of you.” Roose face tilts to the side and he nods. “Your grace” Robb gives you one last smile and then leaves.
Laughter continues to fill the air around you. Your plate before you empty now. The wine glass empty. Just like Roose you only had one glass of wine. He is an enjoyer. You saw how he nipped on his wine, letting the taste reach all his tastebuds before he swallows it.
When you place your hand on the table, Roose takes the opportunity and places his hand on yours.
Your eyes go to Rooses, who is gazing at you with calmness. “It is time” You bite your lips and nod. There is no escaping this now. It was easy not to think about it. Easy to distract yourself while eating and watching the others. Now however it was time. Time for your wedding night. Roose doesn’t let go of your hand and helps you get up. Your wolf following the two of you. He and you walk past the wedding guests, some smile some cheer.
About one thing you are glad off right now and that is that there is no bedding ceremony. You asked Robb to make sure there is none and he agreed. Lucky for you Roose, doesn’t seem to like the idea of a bedding ceremony either.
Luna is behind you, like a guardian. Protecting you.
Rooses hand is still in yours, his hold surprisingly gentle. His gaze ahead, his tent coming slowly in sight. Inside your chest you could feel your heart starting to race. You are no longer able to hide the fact that you are nervous. The way your body starts to heat up uncomfortably and how your wedding dress seems to suffocate you tell you enough. “You are nervous”, he points out calmly. You are in front of his tent now. “There is no need to be” Licking your lips you avoid his gaze. His hold on your hand suddenly tightening.
“Your wolf should stay outside. It is for the better”, he says calmy. You nod, your lips flattening. It will be alright. Everything will be alright.
“Luna be a good girl and stay outside. If I call for you, you can come”, you tell her. Stroking her fur and cuddling her softly. She licks your cheek and gazes into your eyes. It is like she is gazing into your soul. Seeing all you are. You get up again, Roose gazing at you. He opens the tent for you and lets you get in first, following close after you. Your eyes falling onto his bed. It looks…comfortable. Rooses hands place on your shoulders. “You are aware that you must fulfil your duty now. We both must”, he says softly.
You nod, you understand.
In your heart rested a wish. A wish you had since you read your first romance story about a knight and a noble woman. To marry for love. Here you were, married to a man you did not yet love but maybe you could. You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but you still wished there was more.
Roose removes the coat around your shoulders, the coat he had put on you after you had spoken your vows. His hands placing on your back now. Loosening your dress with skilled fingers. This is his third time marrying after all. This isn’t new to him. Third times is the charm, right? “When Lord Karstark told you that you look lovely, he meant it. The way he gazed at you told me he enjoyed what he was seeing”, Roose says calmy. You don’t miss that there is a subtle change in his tone. His hands stop what they are doing for a second and you feel his warm breath on your neck now. “Did you like what you were seeing?”, you ask him.
Roose warm breath brushes over your neck again. He doesn’t answer for a while and doesn’t move. You swallow, waiting for his answer. While you wait you start to play with your fingers. “I already told you-” “My dress, you said my dress looks gorgeous. Yet you didn’t say if you liked what you were seeing as a whole”, you cut him off.
His finger slides over the bare skin of your neck and then towards your shoulders. A surprised sound leaving your lips when you feel teeth sink into your neck. A soft bite, that still leaves your skin burning. Roose lips pressing against the spot he just had bitten into. His other hand starting to continue to loosen your dress, not stopping it when it glides down your body and onto the ground. His hand gliding over your bare skin, sending shocks of electricity through your body.
“I liked what I was seeing and I like it now”, he whispers softly.
His hand goes under your armpit and then towards your throat. Pressing softly, not to hurt you but enough to show you that he could if he wanted to. He bites you again, harder this time. Your body automatically pressing against his. He is still fully clothed, and it bothers you. Now that your body is pressed against his you can feel his bone pressing against you. He is hard.
Pressing against his breeches. The hand that isn’t wrapped around your throat slides between your legs, his fingers sliding through your fold before he sinks two of his fingers inside your hole. Your breathing turns faster and whimpers leave your mouth when his teeth sink into your flesh repeatedly. “What I didn’t like…was them starring at you like they had the right to do so. The only one who has this right is me. Do you understand?”, he whispers against your neck. His voice turning lower. More dangerous, his hold on your throat tightening shortly, causing your airflow to get cut of for a short second.
His fingers curl inside of you, and you feel your legs starting to shake. He is in full control over you, and you hate to admit that you quite like it.
His thumb starts to rub your clit, and he bites into your shoulder. Another whimper escaping your mouth. He applies more pressure on your clit, his teeth removing from your flesh. “Do you understand?” His warm breath now on your ear. A soft rut of his hips against yours makes pleasure shot down between your legs. “Yes, I understand”, you answer hoarsely.
His fingers push deeper, touching a spot inside of you that you never knew was there. Even though his fingers were not that long he really knew how to use them.
Your walls flutter around his fingers and you feel yourself getting close and closer to the edge. His fingers thrusting in and out of you faster. “Good”, he whispers pleased. Roose bites into your earlobe and if he is not biting then he nips at your flesh. The knot inside your lower belly gets tighter. Your head falling onto his shoulder, your eyes gazing at him. His hand on your throat moves a litter higher towards your jaw, tilting your head the way he needs it. Rooses lips pressing against your neck, leaving gentle kisses there.
“Come for me, come around my fingers” Rooses tone a command. His rubbing on your clit gets rougher, making you see stars. Your legs tremble and you try to hold onto something, your back arching and your eyes falling half closed. He pulls his fingers out of you and lifts his coated fingers towards his mouth. Licking them clean. A low rumble resonating through his throat.
His eyes burning into yours. Intense and filled with heat. “Bend over” It is a command not an ask. Rooses eyes going to the bed for a short second before settling back onto you. You do as he says, excitement rushing through your veins. Roose opens his breeches and pulls them down to his hips while you bend over the bed. Your arms resting on the soft fabric, your mind racing. Roose settles his hand on your hips and uses the other to hold his cock. His cock sliding through your folds, coating with your arousal. He doesn’t waste more time and thrusts into you. Your hands gripping the sheets tightly when he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts getting rougher.
His nails dig into your flesh, leaving bruises there. “You…will…take my seed…and give me an heir”, he breathes hoarsely. His normal calm and gentle voice are gone and all that is left is heavy breathing and grunts. “You…will do…as I say…bare me…many heirs…”, he grunts. His upper body lowering onto your back, his hands placing on top of yours. Rooses warm breath brushing over your ears.
“You listen to me…only me. Your duty…is…to…listen to me. Do you…understand?” He punctures each word with a thrust, making you see stars. Your mind is clouded with pleasure. Not able to form a single thought.
The way his hips move against yours and how his cock glides through your walls make it hard to form a single thought. Heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin fills the air around you. If you still could think probably, you would probably die of embarrassment knowing everyone is able to hear what the two of you are doing.
A sharp bite into your ear, shots you out of your daze. “Answer me” His tone is sharper than a knife, his thrust getting rougher. You bite into your tongue due to his rough pounds and whimper. “Yes…yes I do!”, you answer hoarsely. A pleased rumble resonates in his throat sending shivers down your spine. His lips nipping at your earlobe now. “Good.”
Roose grunts into your ear with each thrust he makes and his body tenses above yours. A moan spills past your lips, your walls clenching around him. His cock twitches inside of you. “Fuck…” His hips snap harsher against yours causing the bed beneath the two of you to creak. Hard and deep, causing your body to jolt forward. His hands immediately going to your hips to hold you still. He bites down hardly into your neck, a whimper leaving your mouth. His hips stilling deep inside of you, sweet, delicious warmth filling you up. His cum flowing deep inside of you. Rooses teeth leave your skin and he presses a kiss on the bite mark he left.
He stays inside of you as long as he can. His heavy breathing calming down with yours. “I expect you to lay with me every night. Till it is known that you have my heir inside of you”, he says calmy. He pulls out of you, pulling his breeches back up. You still shiver, exhausted because of your encounter.
Roose helps you stand up and offers you a pink nightgown. “This is yours now. You will get more; I will want to see you more in the colour of our house” You take the nightgown and pull it over your aching body. The bite marks he left on your skin burn and when you look yourself in the mirror you see that they are on obvious places. Everyone will see them. Roose sits in front of a small table now, writing something. “Whom are you writing to?”, you ask curious. Walking up behind him. He continues writing, not looking up at you. “To people that help us, to win the war.”, he answers softly. The man mere minutes before gone. He is now calm and collected, not a grunting mess.
You want to catch a glimpse of the paper, curious on whom he is writing to but Roose folds the paper and puts his seal on it.
He stands up and walks past you, outside to the ravens. You pout and sigh. The tent filling suffocating now. You put on a coat, wrap it tightly around you and walk outside. Your wolf sitting up and rushing towards you. You laugh and hug her tightly. Letting her lick your cheek.
Many thoughts run through your head. Clouding it. You are worried and more than anything confused. The hounds’ words rushing through your mind. You don’t know who Roose is. What he has done. “You enjoyed letting him fuck you I assume?”, a familiar voice asks you. You turn around to find Sandor standing in the shadows. Just when you think about the devil he comes. Your cheeks turn bright red when the meaning of his words sunk in. “You listened?” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How loud the two of you were it was nearly impossible not to fucking hear”, he spits.
You shake your head trying to shake of the feeling of embarrassment. There isn’t a thing to be embarrassed about, you fulfilled your duty. Biting your lips you look at the hound. “Why are you here?” Sandor looks at Luna who stares at him and then looks back at you. His hand resting on his swords. “Don’t trust Roose. He isn’t the man you think he is. You may be a Bolton by name now, but I still see the wolf in you. Stay loyal to the wolfs or you might find yourself in a troublesome situation”, Sandor warns you. You chew on the insides of your cheek. He wouldn’t warn you without any reasons. Something here is terribly wrong and you don’t like that. “You know something” The hound doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. You see it in his eyes. The noise of footsteps and the light of a torch come closer. The hound disappearing into the darkness again. “Wait”
You curse and turn around just in time to see Roose approaching you. He doesn’t look like he saw the hound. His eyes calmy settled on you. Your eyes go to his hand, a letter in his hands. “News my wife, from Winterfell.”
“Winterfell is yours once again your grace, Theon Greyjoy got taken prisoner and is on his way here. Bran and Rickon are well, however half of Winterfell was burned down. My son died during the battle”, Roose informs Robb. You stand by his side, gazing at Robb. Cat isn’t here; she is sleeping. Robb is relieved, some of the weight he carries falling of his shoulders.
Roose gazes at you for a short second, pride shimmering in them. “I am honoured your grace. Thank you”, he answers calmy. Robb nods and then looks down at the map in front of him again. Roose turns around ready to leave, when you don’t move and still gaze at Robb, he calls out to you. “Come”
Robb lifts his head to look at you. You smile happily at him. Bran and Rickon are save, they are alright. The gods are in your favour. Your eyes speaking more than words ever could. “Goodnight cousin” You turn around and walk towards Roose, his eyes gazing at you. He opens the tent and follows you outside. Side by side you walk back to his tent. Roose glancing at you from time to time. There are so many things you don’t know, and you must be careful around Roose. Careful that you don’t fall fully under his control. Now that he is the hand of the king, many things will change.
You look at him, his strange eyes locking with yours. And you know that everything will get more intense from now on.
summary: Some time has passed since you got married to Roose. The war is still going on, and other threats and schemes are made in the dark.
note: I am back! It is short but I believe it is a good start to get back on track! I think we can all agree that it was a good thing that Ramsay died in this story. He cannot be alive if I want this to get a happy ending. english is not my native language! Please enjoy!
warnings: mention of sexual encounters, pregnancy, talks of an heir, war, mention of death, 18+
words: 801
previous part
How much time has passed since you got married to your husband? Months? It must be a few months already. The days are getting colder and the winter is creeping closer and closer.
Being Lady Bolton has changed you. A little. You cannot deny it. You have grown fond of him. Of his attitude. And he of yours. Over the weeks, he and you have gotten into some fights. Fights that have ended in wild pleasure when the both of you were alone in your tent. Roose took all the changes he had to take you. Make you his. Over and over again.
He was desperate. Desperate to make you pregnant. After his bastard son died, he was left with no heir.
You had heard of Ramsay afterwards. He was not kind. A cruel monster. At least some said so. Whispered. Afraid that Roose might hear them and punish them for their gossip. However, you believe that Roose knew. He knew what his bastard son was. Knew how cruel and vile he was. He simple did not care.
Roose made sure to dress you in the colour of his house. As Lady Bolton you shall dress accordingly. He whispered into your ear after the third time you had shared a bed together. The following day he had gotten you a pink dress. Soon you found yourself drowning in pink and purple dresses. Only a few were blue or different colours. You could say he was moulding you into the perfect image of a Lady of the house Bolton. In your heart you however you were a Stark through and through. Something that would never change.
You got out of bed. The noise outside your tent drowning out everything else. All were preparing to march again. Roose awakened from his slight slumber and watched as you dressed yourself. His hungry eyes on your butt before it disappeared behind your undergrown. Last night he had his way. Well for a while. It was pleasurable taking the rails in your own hands last night. Roose did not mind. He let you do as you pleased. Every second he enjoyed more than the last.
“You are staring”, you chuckle.
The rustling of sheets catches your ear as he gets out of bed. Walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. Hands resting on the slight swell on your belly. His warm breath fanning over your neck. You could feel him smile against your skin.
“I am allowed to stare at you as much as I want. Whenever I want and wherever I want. Nobody has the right to tell me otherwise. Not even you, my dear wife.”
Roose breathes you in. His head buried in the crook of your neck.
Sometimes you wonder who has the rails in this marriage. He or you? Nobody knows. Honestly you do not care anymore. Things have changed. You have changed. Barely remembering how your life war before Roose. The war has changed all of you. And it will not be over soon. The Lannisters have not given up yet.
The war has got more brutal over time. Many loses have happened. There has also been another problem. Rob has married. The wrong woman. Now at odds with the Freys the war has only worsened. There is also another thing. Roose has been receiving Ravens. Ravens with messages that he showed to no one. Not even you. You already feared the worst. Betrayal. You have no evidence though. You must still search for it, however every time you search for the letters, they are gone.
Roose must burn them. Smart.
He removes his hands from you after pressing a kiss against your neck. Getting dressed himself.
When you both are ready you leave your tent behind. Walking next to him towards Robbs. Another Raven has arrived. A Raven with news from Winterfell. It was a letter from Catelyn. She left for Winterfell to stay with Bran and Rickon. Robb had allowed it.
You reached his tent and were allowed to enter. Since he got married, it happened often that you were not allowed to enter his tent. Already knowing why, you always smiled and told the guard to tell your cousin that you had wanted to speak with him.
Today he was sitting on his chair, gazing at the maps before him. His queen wife next to him. You liked her. Sadly, not the one he should have married.
“Your majesty, a letter from your mother”
Roose gave the letter to Robb. Both man gazing at one another before he broke the seal and opened the letter. Robb looked immediately worried when he read what was written on it. When he looked up, he gazed at you. His face has gotten pale. “Bran and Rickon are sick”
warnings: 18+, experiments, mention of experiments, forced capture, swearing, threats, reader is in chains, forced prisoner, mention of blood, blood, mention of death, death, aliens, mention of breaking bones, pheromones, eventual smut, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, alien cock, knot, creamp!e, porn without plot
summary: As Weylands prisoner you are chained and on the prometheus against your will. Here to make sure he stays alive a little while longer. Little do you know it leads you to your mate or whatever this is.
author note: I saw alien prometheus and imidiatly fell in love with the engineers all over again. They are so hot! How is there not much of them here on tumblr? So here we are. I made one so we have more of them. Enjoy it and read it at your own risk! Not proof read! English is not my native language!
words: 2.6 k
How on earth did this happen? At first, you were free. Free on earth. Now you were a prisoner. On a spaceship far away from earth. Far away from your home. Your freedom stripped away from you. In chains. The man who has put you there, Weyland still in Cryosleep. He had taken everything away from you. Just because your genetic code was different. That old freak tried everything to lengthen his life. Everything. So, he searched for someone who could do that. Searched for methods. Methods which no human should ever do.
We are supposed to die. That’s how it always has been and always will be.
Nothing is forever.
That was the beauty of life.
David. You hated David just as much as you hated his creator.
He awoke you from Cryosleep and took some of your blood. Blood his creator needed. Back on earth you got kidnapped for that very reason. Your blood. After you had donated blood strange things happened. You got followed. Stalked. By Weylands people. The old man has searched for people who might have something different in their genetic code. A gen that will let them get older. Apparently, your family had such a gene. You had not been the first one. There were others. Others that he experimented on. That died due to it.
How Weyland was allowed to get such information, was in the stars. Well not entirely. He was rich. Rich people had money. It made them able to do things that normally weren’t legal. That realization back on earth had made you angry. Frustrated. Sadly, there was nothing you could have done about it. No one helped you.
No one would come to save you. Weyland had told you. Back on earth. Your family had been paid to shut their mouths or they would be next.
David was with you during that time on earth. He talked to you. That did not make you like him. He tried to…well make you feel a little better. As far as it was possible or he was able to. Still, he served his creator. That was all he wanted to do. All that mattered to him.
Back on the Prometheus you were alone. Still bound with chains. Nobody except David knew you were here. The crew did not know. Did not need to know. This was a secret Weyland had kept. Just like him being on that ship. No one knows that he is on the Prometheus either. Only David and you. The other crew members searched for this being. For God. Or how they called them, Engineers. As Weyland had told you on earth before you left. They searched for him so he could give Weyland eternal life. You guessed the crew does not know. They have no idea what the truth about their mission is.
All you could do was sit around and wait. They were out. Some of the crew members alongside David. You had eaten something. In the locked room you did not really have much to do. You were in the same room as Weyland was. He was still in Cryosleep. He does not have long. He will die very soon. Not that you cared. You wanted him dead. What he does not deserve to live forever. He has no right. A day ago, David came in and told him that they had found a head of one of them. Some might still be alive. The hopes are not up to high though.
You hum and close your eyes. Singing songs, you still remember. That’s all you can do.
Somehow you must have fallen asleep. When you woke up David was here. Some other crew members. They gazed at you. It was the first time seeing some of them. They know now. However, they do not care. Great. Then you see him. Weyland. He got awakened. “It is time then” Your voice sounds flat. Weyland looks at you for a short moment. Then at David. “Yes, it is time”
Anger rose inside you. So, one of them is alive. An engineer is alive. Weyland will finally get what he always wanted. That made you angry. So angry. “Fuck you Weyland. You do not deserve this!”
He ignored you. All of them did. They did not care.
“You should accept that humans don’t live forever!”
No one answered. Only David looked at you for a short moment.
You could not lie though. Curious yourself about this species. About these so called Engineers. How will they be like? Well you will never know. Something like this will never happen to someone like you.
David gave you food and all left. Left to meet that engineer.
Strange things happen a while later. Loud noise. Alarms. You hear crew members that are still on board screaming. You hum and sing to drown out the noise. To calm down your nerves.
The sound of something getting thrown against the door reaches your ears. A loud snap. It sounds like someone got his bones broken. You see blood on the small window on the space door. You are still completely. The screams were gone. You stop your humming and singing. Then you see it. A face. Pitch black eyes burning into yours through the small window of the door.
Backing further away and into a corner you pray the door will stop it. That must be the engineer. Why did he attack and kill the others?
The door gets broken in. There stands an alien. A really big alien. Tall. Taller than any human. Hairless, and very pale skin. Ghost like. The eyes are so dark, and the pupils look shaped like oblong crosses.
The engineer gets closer and you lift your arms. Trying to hide. Flee. You close your eyes. That is, it. You accept your fate. Dying by the hands of an alien. Perfect. Destiny had a way of laughing at you. You waited. Nothing happened. When you opened your eyes, you found the alien staring at you. At the chains around your wrists. Then the engineer spoke. It sounded so strange. Never have you heard anyone speak like that before.
You swallowed.
“I…I do not understand you” Your gaze moved over his body. He wears a weird suit. Strangely enough he had no blood on it. He tilted his head to the side at your words. His large hand moving towards your chains. You watched as he ripped them away. With wide eyes you gaze at him. “Thank you”, you whisper. He freed you. After all this time…An alien freed you. Many questions still swam through your head. Why are you still alive? The engineer could have easily crushed you. His eyes never left yours. Then he said something again.
Turning around, he leaves. “Wait!”
Without thinking you get on your feet and rush after him. What now? You have no idea where you are and how you will get home. Will you ever be able to get home?
You touch his hand. Accidentally. It was a reflex. He is colder than you are. He stops and gazes at you. His eyes go to your hands and then to your face. You immediately let go of his hand. “Forgive me”, you mutter and lower your head. Removing your hand from his. “Please take me with you”
It was stupid. You were very well aware of that. What else should you do though? You will die alone.
He studied you. Then his hand touched your head. You flinched.
His fingers run through your hair. Lifting it towards him. He lowers himself. Smelling it. Why is he doing this? A soft rumble comes from his throat. Strange noise that resonates with your soul. His body is so close to yours and you swallow. What is this strange scent? You sniff it deeper and immediately regret it. It clouds your senses. You feel hot all over. Are you getting sick?
What is happening to you? A strange sound leaves your lips. Your knees are getting weak. Blinking rapidly, you lift your head towards him. “What is happening to me?”, you ask him hoarsely.
The scent smells good. You want more. Need more. Still, you stop yourself.
This is wrong.
Your feet give in and you fall. He catches you and lifts you up. With a foggy head you rest your head against his chest. He speaks something you do not understand again and lose consciousness.
When you open your eyes again you still feel hot. Not as much as before but it is still there. Something else is there. You are wet. Now your cheeks are red for a different reason. How the hell are you wet?
Next problem. Where the hell are you? You sit up and realize you are in a strange room. On a bed. It is kind of comfortable. What is this place and how did you get here? So many questions and no answers. The door to the room opens and he enters. Coming straight towards you. His strange eyes locked on yours. He says something again in his language. You don’t understand.
His hand places gently on your cheek and you smell it again. Your gazes lock and you feel strangely aroused. A sigh leaves you lips. Your skin burns where he touches you and you close your eyes. Nuzzling against his hand. He leans closer towards you and rests his forehead against yours. Breathing with you. Breathing you in. Like he needs it. As much as you need to breathe him in.
Your eyes open again. He looks so strange and yet so beautiful.
Before you can stop yourself, your hands cup his cheeks. He is colder than you are. It does not bother you. Instead, you like it. He liked it too. The way your hands felt on his skin. A rumple comes from his throat and resonates within you again. His hands move over your body. Exploring it. Strangely you like it. Let him explore you and you do the same. He wears different clothing than he had worn before. Still not less strange to you.
His hands find your legs. Voice hoarse against your lips and he removes your trousers. You help him remove it. Now you are only wearing a shirt and underwear. That is wet from your arousal.
He hums and removes your underwear too.
It is strange. It is like both of you are drunk from each other’s scents.
You do not care anymore. His fingers tease your entrance. Teasing you more and more till you squirm beneath me. “Stop teasing” He makes a sound that sounds like a chuckle. Then he pushes one of his thick fingers inside your hole. Moving in and out. Opening you up for him. His lips find yours. Kissing you soft. He pulls away a little and makes a small smile. He kisses you again, deeper this time. You kiss him back eagerly. Moving your hips to get more pleasure.
This is insane. Not so long ago he killed the crew. Other humans. And here you are. Soon getting fucked by that very alien.
Your tongue licks over his lips. Tasting him. His flavor on your tongue is delicious. He tastes sweet and salty at the same time. He adds a second finger. Spreading your hole wider. Making you ready to take him. The kiss gets deeper as his own tongue licks over your lips. You open your mouth and let him enter it. His tongue pushes inside your mouth. Exploring it.
While you ride his fingers you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. You will reach your orgasm soon.
Your breath goes faster. Your legs shake and your toes curl. “I…am close” Your voice is hoarse and airy against his lips. He hums, speeding up his movements. The scent gets overwhelming again and you crash over the edge. A silent scream leaving your mouth. Waves of pleasure surge through your body. He pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole. Lifting it to his mouth. He sniffs on his fingers before he puts them into his mouth and cleans them off.
While he does this, he watches you closely. Trying to take in your reaction. Studying you.
It is like he is staring into your soul.
He licks his lips when his fingers are clean and starts to remove his clothing. You watch. His body looks otherworldly and beautiful. When his chest is completely bare you stare. He has no nipples. His body is strong and muscled. Fuck he really could easily crush you if he wanted. You salivate when he goes on to remove his pants. Once he is completely naked you cannot help but stare. You do not even feel ashamed of yourself in that moment.
His member is standing proud. Pale like the rest of his body. With black veins all over it. Slightly curved. With a knot in the middle and his thick tip curved upward. Glistening with his liquid.
You lick your lips. He hums and comes closer again. Spreading your legs and getting on the bed with you. He is careful not to crush you. Positioned between your legs he rests his forehead against yours. Whispering things. Then he pushes in. His tip stretching you. He waits. Watches. When he sees you relax, he pushes in further. Deeper and deeper. The slowness makes you dizzy. He makes you dizzy.
He breathes heavily. He is just as affected as you are.
Then you reach his knot. His knot is way bigger than the rest of his cock. He tries to ease you more. Just pushing in and out with the length he already has inside of you. His fingers finding your clit. Circling it. Rubbing it. Playing with your pearl. Gazing at you with wonder in his eyes. Your pussy opens up more. He takes the change and pushes. His knot nearly coming inside you. He pulls out and pushes again. Again and again.
With one final push he is deep inside you. His cock stretching you perfectly. His knot feeling strange but also delicious inside of you. It makes you see stars. Stretching you perfectly.
His hands cup your breasts that are still covered by your shirt and he changes that immediately. Now you are both fully bare. He gazes at your hardened nipples and takes one of them into his mouth. You sigh happily and he starts to push in and out of you in a joyful rhythm. The bed beneath you shakes with its thrusts. Your skin burning again. You are one. Moving as one. Feeling good.
His thrusts get deeper. Hit the places that make you gasps and sing in pleasure.
He knows what he is doing, due to watching. Studying. Testing.
He kisses you again. His lips are surprisingly soft. Your legs wrap around his hips. As well as you are able to so. He is big after all. All of him is big. His temperature is warmer now. Or it just feels like this right now. You do not care. Pleasure builds inside you again. His own pleasure is getting closer. His movements get a little harsher. His knot is getting bigger inside you. Making it harder for him to move. He breathes heavily. Moans. With one final push he buries himself inside you to the hilt. Hot liquid fills you.
Covering your walls. He kisses you again and again. Saying words in his tongue.
He stays inside you. Softly he lifts you up and rolls you over. Now on top of him you rest against him. He strokes your head. A pleased smile on his head. Exhaustion crushing over you in an instant.
Letting you sleep on him the engineer watches over you for a while. Pleased that he found himself a mate. Being awoken by those stupid humans wasn’t so bad after all. He finally found a mate. A mate he will cherish and fight for. He closes his eyes and lets sleep take over him.
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realising daeron is a fawner just like his mother……..aemond is fight aegon is flight helaena is freeze but daeron is just trying to Be Good so he doesn’t get punished.
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