#moreastark

There was something about SUMMERHALL that had felt like home. Or perhaps, rather, it was the Prince who held reign over the stronghold there – and the ways in which his very presence seemed to remind her that there was a place she could always feel welcome after all. Perhaps that was why in the midst of danger, despite everything in her urging her to turn heel and run for the capitol where her armies were based – instead she ran to him.

The same male she sought was the only who had ever made her feel safe. Throughout stormy nights and bad dreams, or perhaps during a disciplining from the older brother who was so quick to chastise her, there had only been one pair of arms she would flee to, ever since she was a little girl. Why should it be any different now?

Over a week, the Valyrian Princess had been travelling through the stormlands, finding what little she could for food, and careful to avoid detection where possible. Once pristine silken gown was shredded and torn, perhaps in part to escape the bandits who had tried to claim her, ever threatening the manner by which they could blackmail the King into giving theme exactly what they wanted, in exchange for her life. The majority of her guard had died to get her away, leaving her on horse until the stallion too was ridden to death, leaving her fending ENTIRELY for herself.

Almost ready to collapse where her petite frame managed to stumble, before hearing the scrambling and clutter of his men finally noticing her, and ushering their way out of the doors and gates to assist her inside. Cheek bruised and torn, long stresses streaked down her shoulders, tousled and fallen out of the elaborate updo her mother had taught her.

All Daenerys could utter was one word – urging them to find the only person she wanted to see. The last time he had set eyes on her, her lips had still burned with the warmth of his against her own, glancing one last time before riding away.

@moreastark. i have been following ian’s job for awhile. and though we don’t talk as much as we used to, or write much, i still love having them on my dash. they play a really great jon, and ian has really morphed him into his own character while stick sticking with what makes jon, jon. which is always lovely to see. 

A gasp spilled from her lips as her body lurched up in the darkness of the room, sunrise only just beginning to filter through the windows and into her chambers. Breathing shakily as her hands clutched the furs around the swell of her bared cleavage, silver tresses long since tumbled free of the elaborate braids, spilling over her shoulders. Every rise and fall of her chest seems to prompt another heavy breath to spill from her lips, memories of the night prior long gone with the mental images of the nightmare that had plagued her unconscious thoughts.

In her d r e a m s , he had been lost to her. And unlike only weeks prior now, he had not returned to her. When he had fallen through the frozen lake, it had been for good – and then come next battle, he had faced her once more as one of them. Staring back at her with those piercing undead hues, the remnants of what he was – gone.

Trembling in the furs, her eyes closed, fighting to calm those thoughts as her fingers brushed through her locks, teasing them freely. Glancing back at him now, Daenerys didn’t have the heart to wake him, if her sudden movements had not. Images were burning into her hues now, reminding her of the night prior. Him coming to her cabin. Tiers brushing her collarbone, breathing moans into her ear. Hands, trailing the curves of her back, grasping her thighs with bruising force, pressing eagerly forwards for MORE. The lover who might have been the faceless body in her dreams, so long ago, finally come to her. Gods, why had he come to her? Was it just an urge to satisfy what was pent up? Or something more?

and now jon has a deeper scar over his heart.

haha i know! i know! i’m sorry! i’m totally trash for jonerys and PAIN. they just go so well together lol

i like this verse, better than what we got…