she stands toe to toe with a king

the bittersweet between my teeth

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Jon Snow
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 3,750

Belowdecks, all Jon could hear were the creaks of the boat as they rode the gently rolling waves to White Harbor and his own quick, shaky breaths. He lingered outside the queen’s quarters, shoring up the courage to knock. There were no sounds coming from beyond the door. Perhaps the queen was already asleep. Perhaps, despite the lingering looks, first in her council room then later in the mess hall over dinner, she wasn’t waiting for him at all.

He wet his lips, eyes boring into the finely carved Targaryen sigil in her door. It was foolish to be nervous. He could face down the White Walkers and their dead with all the grit of a true Northern-born son, lead the Night’s Watch and thousands of Wildlings as Lord Commander, and protect the people of Winterfell as King in the North–but all that went to shit when Daenerys so much as looked at him, that violet-hued gaze as sharp as Valyrian steel.

And yet, whatever misgiving he had about being here, he knew she wouldn’t turn him away. It was inevitable he’d end up here. He knew that much.

Gods be good. One more deep, fortifying breath, and he rapped a sharp knock on her door. He didn’t wait long for her to answer. Hazy lighting from candles and a crackling fire illuminated her silhouette from behind as she opened the door, staying her movements at the sight of him. There was surprise in that normally impassive, steely-eyed stare. And–acknowledgement, he thought. A shared understanding.

She knew it was inevitable, too.

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Seas in Bottles

Sorry I haven’t been so active, life got really, really busy. Anyway, special thanks to whoever sent this prompt. I honeslty loved the idea of Kilorn getting Cal drunk. These babes need some bonding time too, so here we are with a drunk bonding fic. 

Timeline: During King’s Cage, approximately 6 months after Glass Sword

Rating: PG-13, language (cursing)


Pairings: implied MarexCal  

 Word Count: 3790 words

        It was an unusually cold evening in Monfort, so much so that Kilorn wrapped the threadbare jacket he had been given tighter around him and grumbled about the whole thing. No one said that when it snowed here, it got colder than Norta. No one had bothered to mention that, so here he was, trudging through almost knee deep snow to get back from his watch. He supposed to the only entertaining part was Calore ahead of him, almost slipping every time he took a step because the snow just melted as he passed through it. The Silver seemed completely immune to the cold though, and even had the audacity to wear only a thin jacket and no gloves or a scarf.

        A particularly strong wind blew into their faces and Kilorn decided in that moment that he had had enough. Planting his feet, he shouted, “That’s it, we’re stopping.”

        Calore froze up ahead and the snow at his feet immediately began to turn to slush. He threw a loaded glare over his shoulder at Kilorn and hissed, “This will be the fourth time you’ve decided to stop, it will only get worse the longer we stay out here.”

       “Well, I’d rather stop somewhere and just wait it out.” Kilorn replied with a sniff. He liked to think that when he argued with the Prince that he normally won. In reality he knew that he was just a sore loser, and the only person who had ever been able to stand toe to toe with the Silver, and actually get him to bow out, was locked up in Archeon, dying at the hands of the King.

        He immediately turned away from that thought though. The minute he started on Mare, he couldn’t stop. His stomach churned like a rough sea at the thought of her in pain, and his heart ached in his chest as he thought about the fact that no matter what happened, she would only ever see him as a friend and a brother. He used to think it was really unfair, his competition being a perfect Silver Prince and all, but he’d slowly started to realize that there had never been a competition at all. Calore had won, before the race had even started, so Kilorn tried to shrug off the bitter jealousy and move on. There was no use crying over something like that, and besides, he and Calore had sort of teamed up to get her back. It felt like they were the only two people at the moment that were even trying anyway.

        Glancing around him at the host of dark shops and rickety homes, Kilorn scanned the street for a place to rest for a few hours. Eventually, his eyes landed on windows spilling warm light onto the snow, practically beckoning him. With a smile underneath his thick scarf, he took a few freezing steps though the snow and nudged Calore on his way by. “How about a drink? You and I could use one.”

        The Prince followed him, even though he was obviously reluctant, and grumbled, “I don’t drink.”

        “Well, then I want a drink, and you need a drink.” Kilorn said with a laugh as he stood patiently outside of the heavy door. Calore eventually joined him, his eyes uncertain as they flickered in the dim light of the windows. Kilorn figured that the prince would not be exactly comfortable in a bar like the one they were about to enter, and he relished the fact that he was going to get to see the silver squirm. It wouldn’t have been as funny though if he knew how Mare and the prince had met.

        Grabbing the handle of the door, Kilorn yanked on it, cracking the ice that had formed on the edge from the cold. Kilorn glanced at the shards of ice still clinging to the lock and then throwing a smug smile in Calore’s direction he said, “You know it’s too cold when the doors freeze shut.”

        The Silver simply huffed and stepped through the door and into the raucous noise that the bar was producing. Kilorn followed him in, unraveling his scarf and pulling off his hat. Calore simply ran his fingers through his dark hair, melting the frost that was clinging to it. Kilorn brushed his own hair off and then started across the old wood floor toward the darker part of the bar, where a few dimly lit tables were pushed up against the wall. The whole place brought back good memories of sitting in bars and laughing, watching people get stupidly drunk before stumbling outside to collapse in the dirt. He wondered for a moment if he would ever feel that happy again.

        He picked a table that was farthest from everyone and sank down into the chair, sighing in content as he put his boots up on one of the empty chairs and stretched his legs out, enjoying the warmth that was slowly pushing through every gap in his clothing.

        Calore slinked behind him, trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid anyone noticing his presence. He had been told to keep a low profile upon arrival in Monfort and in response he had tried to stick to the small town house that the entire group had been allocated. Farley had had enough of his pathetic moping after four months and had practically forced him out the door and thrown him on Kilorn, saying that the two of them needed some bonding time anyway. They had both protested for a solid heartbeat, only for Farley to slam the door in their faces and lock it. It had been a long day after that, with Calore mostly keeping to himself and refusing to say more than five words in a sentence. In fact, the most he had said all day was to tell Kilorn to stop whining about the cold, because there were much worse positions to be in. After he’d said it too, Kilorn had seen his eyes flash with some unknown emotion, and in that moment, Kilorn had known exactly what situation he was thinking about and who was in that situation at the moment.

        Shaking off the memories from the day, Kilorn waved over a pretty young waitress, putting on what he thought was a charming smiling as she approached with her own wry smile that said she knew exactly what was coming.

        Leaning forward to keep her eye on him, Kilorn smiled and said, “I’ll have a good strong drink, and my friend,” he kicked the prince under the table, drawing those burning irises to him, before continuing, “Will have something light.”

        “I’ll have whiskey.” The silver grumbled, before leaning back and crossing his arms, obviously perturbed by Kilorn’s decision for him. Shrugging at the comment, Kilorn jerked his thumb to his companion and said, “Fine, whatever he wants, I’ll have too.”

        The waitress smiled coyly, and tried not to tell Kilorn that she knew exactly who he and his “friend” were. With a dip of her head, she replied, “I’ll be right back.”
        She turned away and started toward the bar, giving Kilorn the opportunity to lean across the table and tease, “I thought you said you didn’t drink. Whiskey’s pretty heavy duty stuff.”

        “It’s none of your business what I choose to drink.” The prince replied stiffly, before glancing around the bar at the other patrons. At one of the tables across form them, a rowdy card game had just begun, and judging by the bets being put on the table, everyone was a bit more drunk than they realized. Beyond them, another group of young men, no older than them really, we’re laughing wildly as they told stories from the day. Kilorn glanced in their direction as well, and then glanced back at Calore, who seemed to fit into the mold of the bar more than Kilorn thought he would.

        Sitting back in his chair, Kilorn said, “Fine, but I’m not dragging your three-sheets-to-the-wind drunk ass home, you can crawl for all I care.”
        “How generous of you, I’ll keep that in mind.” The prince replied with small smile. Kilorn had seen it only a few times since that faithful day that the Blackrun had gone down. Calore rarely smiled lately, rarely showed any form of emotion actually. Which Kilorn thought was just plain stupid. He should have been angry, should have been railing against the world if he seemed to care about Mare so much. But he hadn’t done that.

        At that moment, the waitress returned with their drinks, setting the bottle on the table and two glasses between them. She winked at the two of them and said, “Strongest thing we’ve got, so take it easy.”

        Kilorn smiled and then grabbing the bottle he returned her wink and then opened the bottle to pour the amber liquid into the two glasses. She laughed at his reaction and then slipped away, walking toward the card table to see if anyone needed anything there.

        Kilorn finished pouring, and then picking up the glass he swirled the liquid for a few seconds and then said, “You sure you can drink this stuff? I mean I haven’t had whiskey in years, but I still remember how hard it screwed me over.”

        The prince simply took his glass and placed the rim to his lips. Kilorn watched, fascinated as he tipped the glass back and downed the liquid in two gulps.

        He set the glass down and for a moment Kilorn doubted that he hadn’t drunken before, but a heartbeat later, the silver coughed on the fiery trail the drink left in his throat and growled, “How did he even drink this garbage?”

        Kilorn smiled and then took a sip before saying, “Who we talking about here?”

        The silver’s eyes flashed, as if he were surprised that Kilorn had heard him. His lips curled slightly and he whispered, “No one who is alive.”

        “Right, so I shouldn’t assume the uncle was the drinker?” Kilorn teased as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around them. When he glanced back, the Silver had already poured himself another glass. Slamming his own down on the table, Kilorn pulled it away before he could drink again. “Slow down there, if you haven’t done something like this before you’ll kill yourself.”
        “I don’t see what the problem is then.” He growled in reply, before yanking the glass back across the table. Kilorn stiffened in response and then spit, “Fine, drown yourself in self-pity, see if I care.”


        A good hour later, the bottle was empty, and so was the second one that had come after it. Kilorn let out a snorting laugh at that fact, knowing his face was cherry apple red. Then leaning across the table, he whispered with a stupid grin on his face, “You wanna know a secret?”

        Across from him, the prince snorted and then chuckled before saying, “Depends on if I have to tell you one too.”

        “Obviously,” Kilorn drawled, his tongue loose with the taste of the whiskey  that he had been drinking to try and keep up with the Silver so that he didn’t drink himself under the table. Farley would never forgive him if he brought the prince back to the house black out drunk. He was also feeling surprisingly loose around the prince, he wasn’t all that bad, really. He was a lot better when he loosened up and just talked. 

        “The secret is that…” Kilorn trailed off and then snickered and grabbed the bottle to tip it over and see if anything was left. A few drops trickled out and he groaned comically before setting it down and continuing, “The secret is that I hated you… so much.”

        There was silence for a moment, before Calore laughed. He threw his head back and almost fell out of the chair. Kilorn laughed as well, pointing his finger at him threateningly and saying, “Don’t laugh, it’s one billion percent true.”
        The prince leaned forward again, righting himself so that he didn’t fall out of the chair, and replied, “I have absolutely no qualms with that.”
        “See that’s what I hate, you use all these big fancy words like “quails”. Honestly what the fuck is a “quail” anyway? How can you have no quails with me?”
        Calore laughed again, and this time, he did slip out of his chair slightly, but managed to catch himself on the tables edge before he went toppling to the floorboards. Kilorn laughed as well, more at his own stupidity than the prince’s inability to hold his liquor. But he was doing surprisingly well at keeping it down, which had been a feat in and of itself. He had downed at least two more glasses than Kilorn, and was maybe just as far gone, if not a little more. Kilorn figured he would have been lying on the floor by this point, unmoving and essentially dead.

        “You want to know my secret?” The prince said, with a smile that actually reached his eyes for the first time. Kilorn nodded rapidly, excited to know exactly what went through a drunk prince’s mind. Calore leaned forward and then beckoned Kilorn forward so that he could whisper and still be heard over the crowd around them. Kilorn leaned forward, his arm sliding across the table so that he almost face planted into the wood. The prince smiled then and whispered, “My brother would have made a better king than me anyway.”

        Kilorn froze for a moment, and then watched as the prince threw his head back and laughed, as if that were the funniest thing he had ever said. Kilorn frowned though and said bluntly, the whiskey dulling his ability to filter his insult, “But your brother’s an asshole.”

        “Damn straight he is, but he’s a smart one, and he knew his way around the court more than I ever could dream of knowing. You know he told me I probably would have died on my wedding night? And you know what? I probably would have.” He laughed again at the end of his statement, his face getting paler by the second as he became more and more flushed. Kilorn watched him for a second and then said, “You really believe that.”

        “Of course I believe that, I’d be stupid not to.”

        Kilorn’s frown deepened, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have let the prince drink after all. This was not what he wanted to hear, let alone what other people should be hearing.

        “You want to hear another secret?”

        “No, not really, I think we should actually leave and get you back now.” Kilorn said as he stumbled to his feet. The prince grabbed his wrist though and yanked him back into his seat, surprisingly in control of his motor functions considering how much whiskey he had had.

        “I think we should stay a little longer, I haven’t felt like this in years.”

        “I think you need to go back, Farley’s probably worried-“

        “Farley can go crawl back under the rock she came from. She doesn’t care about what happens to me. At this point she’s just keeping me around for what I know about the silvers, which is starting to become irrelevant at this point.” He chuckled to himself and Kilorn blanched at the statement, not sure how to respond.  The silver glanced at him then, his eyes suddenly clear, and with a terribly soft whisper he said, “My biggest secret is that I broke my promise to her. I promised her that I would never let anyone hurt her, that I would never let him hurt her again. I thought I had enough power to protect her, to keep her safe, fat lot of good it did me though.”

        He glared down at his bracelets then, as if they were the problem. Without them, he was essentially useless, and Kilorn had learned that very quickly after the Blackrun went down. That memory came back like a burning knife being shoved down his throat though, and he tried to will it away, but it wouldn’t go away. All he could see was Mare, kneeling in the snow, her eyes dry and her face stern as she made the deal that would seal her fate. He’d screamed at her to stop, screamed at the prince to stop her, but Calore had watched as well, not once taking his eyes off of Mare.

        “You weren’t going to be able to protect her, no one was. Mare choose to go, and there was no stopping her.” Kilorn warned, trying to stand again and help the prince up. He stumbled from him chair this time, letting Kilorn take him, and almost took Kilorn down when he stumbled over his feet.

        Reaching into his jacket pocket, Kilorn dumped a few coins on the table and then started to drag the prince toward the door.

        “I didn’t go to the funeral cause she told me to stay away, and I was so goddamn bitter about those stupid letters. They were worth shit anyway, but I was still furious with her because of them.”

        At that point, Kilorn wasn’t really sure what the prince was talking about anymore, and he didn’t really want to know either. He simply kept dragging him, and then slamming his hat on his own head, he wrapped his scarf around his neck in a pathetic attempt to brave the cold outside. He needed to get Calore back and into bed, without waking all the little Newbloods they had brought with them. They couldn’t see their hero covered in sweat, and farther from sober than they were from Norta.

        “I hated you too you know, I hated you because she trusted you, completely and absolutely. She would never question you, ever. Me though, she questioned me every step of the way, always wondering why I was sticking around.”

        “I think you’re done talking now,” Kilorn said as he shoved open the door and stepped out into the freezing night. The cold immediate began to wipe away some of his drunken state, but his side instantly smarted with heat as Calore increased his body heat drastically to account for the change.

        “Shut up Warren, I’m not done yet.”

        “How about this, I’ll shut up if you shut up.”

The prince was silent for a second, and then replied, “Fine.”

Kilorn sighed in relief and then began to drag him through the snow, with Calore knocking them off course with every faltering step he took. At this rate they would never make it back to the house, not with Calore being a pain in the ass like this, Kilorn thought bitterly, as his fingers began to freeze. They finally managed to make it down the long street, and then turning toward the house, Kilorn sighed in relief when he saw the light on in the window from the kitchen. Hopeful Farley or Cameron was still up and they were willing to help him drag Calore up the stairs.

As they went up the two stairs to the house, Calore whispered softly, “I never told her the truth. I never told her that I… that I love her.”

        “I thought we agreed to stop talking.” Kilorn grumbled as he fished for the key in his pocket. Calore slipped away from him though and then leaned against the side of the house, his face hidden in shadow. Kilorn finally managed to find the key, his hands were shaking from the cold though, and with a cry of terror he dropped in into the snow. Calore glanced at him as this happened and the snorted with laughter, only to slide forward and fall face first into the snow. Kilorn looked down at him then, waiting for him to get up. The silver didn’t move though, didn’t so much as flinch really at the cold, and Kilorn let out a strangled groan at the fact that he was probably going to have to drag him up the stairs.

        At that moment, the door opened, flooding the front step with light from the kitchen. Blinking at the blinding brightness, Kilorn groaned and covered his eyes to try and prevent the headache he felt building up between his eyebrows.

        There was silence for a second and then Farley, with a terrifyingly calm voice asked, “What happened?”

        Kilorn simply bent down and grabbed Calore’s shoulders before tugging him in a circle so that he could drag him into the house. “He’s drunk.”

        “What?” Farley hissed, as she stepped out of the way and set her hand on her swollen stomach, her eyes wide in fury. Kilorn glanced at her and deadpanned, “I honestly didn’t think he’d drink as much as he did.”
        “Who?” Someone else said from the other side of the kitchen, and Kilron glanced over his shoulder to see Calore’s uncle sitting at the table, a cup of tea in his hands. Wincing at what this looked like, he turned back to face Farley with a pleading expression. She glared at him though and slammed the door before saying, “Yes Warron, who is completely drunk at the moment?”

        “Well, I am, but he’s a lot worse off. I’m honestly surprised he made it all the way back to the house without collapsing.”

        The other silver got up, his eyes scanning his nephew before he sighed heavily and said, “Never thought I’d see this day.”

        “Congratulations, you have. Now can someone please help me get him upstairs?”    

        “Absolutely not,” Farley replied, before grabbing her own cup of tea and finishing, “The two of you are sleeping downstairs. I’m not going to listen to him vomit his insides out when he wakes up.”

        Kilorn’s mouth dropped open in surprise and he sputtered for a second, wondering what he had done to get himself put in the same position at Calore. He could hold his alcohol, and he certainly wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with his hangover tomorrow morning. Why did he have to stay down here with Calore? 

        “You two seemed to have a good time, judging by Calore, so I assume there was some good male bonding. You can continue to bond while you sleep on the couch.” Farley said as she left the room, her eyes like hard diamonds, offering no room for argument. Kilorn turned to Calore’s uncle then, his eyes pleading for help. The older man sighed and then grabbed his tea as well and said, “Good night Kilorn.”

        With that, they both left the room, and Kilorn was left holding Calore’s limp body. With a groan of frustration he dragged him farther into the room and then into the tiny sitting room that had been furnished with a few worn pieces of furniture. He dropped Calore on the carpet and then collapsed onto the couch, deciding that the seas in the bottles had made rough seas in his stomach.