the wolf who would be queen

Loki and Children

I have been having some thoughts about the original mythological Loki and the thought that has been on my mind most is this:

Loki is

1. Surprisingly great with kids

2. Is addicted to parenthood

Let me explain.

As to the first bit, well, yeah, it’s surprising. Or it should be at first glance. Because, seriously, this is fucking Loki. Standing in close proximity to him for longer than a minute is bound to result in theft, arson, a splash of bloodshed for color, and at least one confused party waking up in bed with the fucker. He’s a chaotic, manic, and generally hazardous force to be reckoned with.

To us. That is, adults.

Mortals, gods, giants, trolls, dwarves, et cetera–but only those who are mature.* *Read: there is Something to be Gained from conning, seducing, or otherwise messing with us. Whether it’s to save his own skin, or to get some sweet petty vengeance, or to steal a bauble, or to satisfy some carnal itch, or to just fuck up somebody’s day for the Hel of it, Loki only ever targets those he can take something worthwhile from. 

And what is there to take from kids? 

Plenty of folks on his extremely extensive Enemies List have children, of course. No one in the Norse mythos was especially mindful of dropping their seed. So. Children.

Children–easy to fool, easy to make a hostage, easy to charm and siphon their parents’ secrets and treasures from–should be great big bullseyes to the God of Mischief and Trickery and Assorted Other Unscrupulous Things. Yet there isn’t a single Edda or snippet of lore in which Loki makes cruel use of them. Not once. 

But what’s the big deal? Most of the rude and/or villainous characters in Norse mythology don’t bother with harassing kids either. Except in the case of stories like Loka Táttur.

Loka Táttur is a tale about how a farmer loses a bet with a vicious troll who swears to kill the farmer’s little boy. The farmer calls upon three gods in turn. Odin, Hoenir, and Loki. Odin and Hoenir both disguise the boy and hide him away, but the troll is too clever and each time manages to sniff out the boy’s hiding place. Ultimately it is Loki who hides the kid–pulling an Idunn-in-a-Nutshell gag and hiding him as a speck on the eye of a flounder in the water–and then, rather than stepping back as Odin and Hoenir did from their work, he sits in his boat and lets the troll see him.

The troll, being suspicious, asks what Loki’s business is. Only fishing, obviously. The troll demands to join him. Lo and behold, they bring up a wealth of flounders, including the one where the boy’s hidden. Loki manages to change the boy back to his true shape and hide the kid behind his back without the troll noticing. As Loki brings the boat back to shore, and to the farmer’s boathouse with the latter’s doors open, Loki tells the boy to run through the boathouse. He goes, the troll gives chase, and the troll becomes wedged in the entryway. 

At which point Loki proceeds to chop off the troll’s legs and stick an iron stake in the bastard’s skull. Then he walks the kid back home. The grand payoff for Loki after all this? 

The boy is safe. The troll is dead. The End.


Now, much as Loki may have been the catalyst for a lot of corpses pre-Ragnarok–see his business with Thor getting his hammer back and leading more than one giant into a death trap–Loki is actually very rarely, if ever, one to get his hands dirty by killing a victim himself. Even Baldr was done in by an arrow he aimed with blind Hod’s fingers. So why did Loki personally orchestrate this plan in such a grisly way? For what gain?

What, other than the satisfaction of personally slaughtering the would-be child-killing prick troll?

In a less bloody narrative, we see his hand in getting Thialfi and Roskva, a pair of mortal siblings, taken into Thor’s service. While the exact ages of the two aren’t mentioned, they are young enough to still be in the care of their parents. When Thor and Loki are travelling it’s their father who invites them under their roof. Thor’s goats are slaughtered for the evening meal and–in some tellings–it is Loki who entices the son, Thialfi, into breaking a leg bone to taste the marrow. When morning comes and Thor resurrects his goats, one has a broken leg.

Thor’s visibly pissed—never ever a good thing–and so the family offers to make some compensation.

Loki, coughing through his hand: ThialfibroketheboneheshouldpledgeservicetoThor

Thialfi: Uh–

Loki, clearing his throat: Alsotakethesistertwoforonedeal

Rosvka: But I didn’t do anything—

Loki, en sotto voce: Kids, consider your options. Teensy mortal lifetime of toil on Midgard, harvesting dirt and snow on one hand. Potentially immortal lifetime, I don’t know, scrubbing giant blood off Mjolnir in Thor’s hall on Asgard on the other. Verdict?

Both: Sold.

Loki: Excellent! Really, Thor, you’re a master dealmaker, a born barterer, I’m in awe.

Thor: Wh—


Cue laugh track.

Point being, Loki has been shown to purposefully go out of his way to help kids because…because. Yet how does this translate to the idea of him being good with kids?

I ask this purely hypothetically and am trying not to laugh as I do, because really. Really. How in the hell is a kid not going to be entertained by the Norse god of revelry and recreation?

Oh yeah, that bit’s often left off the résumé.

Loki, God of Mischief, is also God of Recreation. Play, in other words. Because playtime is a thing that is Chaotic rather than a product of Order, and so Loki is naturally all over it. There are some who even credit him with having added that trait to the first humans, Ask and Embla, while Odin, Vili, and Vé were carving them and breathing character into their souls.

On top of that, he’s also the god of flyting—poetic shit-talking.

So we have a shapeshifting, storytelling, magic-wielding, game-spinning, trickster god who can also teach young ears every bad word they could ever hope to learn, and he’s expected not to be a hit with kids? This is all without even mentioning the fact that Loki is a bit of a hyperactive attention hog all on his own. What better audience for him than a gaggle of credulous little onlookers who are too young to sneer at his antics rather than take delight in them? Children are wee balls of mischief themselves, muddled in with imagination and wonder and an eagerness to be wowed or made to laugh themselves into weeping.

All of which brings me to point number two:

Loki is a kidaholic.

Like, even though a lot of his and/or her sleeping around the Realms can be chalked up to an insane libido, there’s also just the sheer number of kids they’ve produced to factor in. Maybe more than even Odin or Thor could boast. At least half being born from Loki herself. Not because Loki was helpless against the workings of nature—it’s impossible to believe that Loki wasn’t smart enough or powerful enough to get around producing new Lokisons and Lokisdottirs with every other bedmate—but because Loki wants more kids. There will never be enough kids.

The guy’s got a case of severe paternal/maternal hoarding going on. I mean

Loki: I need another one.

Odin: You really don’t.

Loki: You’re right. I need two other ones.

Odin: I am positive that you do not.

Loki: Three. Triplets. Need them. Right now.

Odin: Loki.

Loki: Four? Four. Definitely four.

Odin: Loki, please.

Loki: Yeah, let’s go with four. I can give or get. I’ll flip a coin.

Odin: Loki, as Allfather, I am expressly forbidding you to impregnate or be impregnated for at least a century.

Loki: Fine.

Odin: …

Loki: …I’ll settle for three.

Odin: What did I just say?

Loki: Three’s a good number, isn’t it? All good things come in threes. You and your brothers—

Odin, fighting an aneurysm: You and your brothers—

Loki: So you agree!

Odin: I did not—

Loki: Three it is!

Odin: Loki—

Loki: Be back when I feel like it

Odin: Loki

Loki: Give my love to Sleipnir

Odin: LOKI—

Loki, pantsless, vaulting over the wall, cartwheeling towards Jötunheimr’s Ironwood forest: Bye

It’s in that Ironwood that he meets Angrboda and fathers a giant wolf, a giant snake, and the literal corpse-faced queen-goddess of the dead by her. Being that Loki’s scope of attractiveness/aesthetic acceptability is elastic enough to let all sorts of species between his legs, I find it hard to believe that his kids’ unique looks would repulse or even faze him. They’re his children. Therefore they’re great.

And we all know how that happy family ended up. Ditto his second family with Sigyn and his two little twin boys.

Enter Ragnarok, warfare, general Bad Times, and so on.


Comical as it is to envision a Loki who cringes at the notion of parenthood and/or fears his more monstrous children, I just don’t believe it lines up with what we know of the Loki of myth.

Myth Loki is a god who would spend hours entertaining a child, simply entertained that the child is entertained.

Myth Loki is also a god who would hunt down and methodically dismember whichever idiot thought it would be okay to make a child cry within said god’s earshot.


The Kings and Queens of Winter (original)

Their father once said that in winter, they must protect one another, keep each other warm, share their strengths.  So they shared their strength, and their crown as well.

Brandon, King of Winter
↳ King Brandon was King Robb’s true heir, and Lord Eddard’s before him.  When the crown passed to him, it was he that bade his siblings share its responsibilities with him.  Though some of the lords bannermen of House Stark thought this meant that Bran–a cripple since the age of seven–was weak, they soon learned the strength of the decision.  A true king of winter, Brandon said, is one who prepares for winter, not just endures it.  And the best way to prepare for winter was to make sure that all needs were being met, and thus that each was given the full attention of a member of his house.  (It is also said that when there was strife in the North, King Brandon knew about it long before word officially reached Winterfell.  He was blessed by the Old Gods, it was said, with magical sight and hearing, and understood the language of brooks and trees.)

Arya, Queen of Justice
↳ Queen Arya took it upon herself to protect the smallfolk.  She had seen, she told her brothers and sister, their suffering and lived it during the War of the Five Kings, when Lannister and Stark warred in the riverlands.  She had seen what evil men could do when left unchecked and found such evil intolerable in the lands of her blood.  When justice was needed, it was Queen Arya who rode out from Winterfell.  Though songs are sung of Queen Arya’s justice, it was known that her mercy was far more powerful.  Justice, she had been known to say, was nothing without mercy–true mercy, the gift of mercy.  Though far more celebrated for lives she took in the name of her house, her justice was not merely the enforcement of the law but the weighing of it.  If she heard a man’s final words and thought he did not deserve to die, he did not die by her blade.  (Though there were songs sung of Arya’s justice and her mercy, the more celebrated songs are ones of magic.  The most creative of these songs are ones that say she wears the skin of a direwolf and heads a pack of thousands.  Such songs are songs, however, and should never be misconstrued for fact.)

Jon, King of Peace
↳ King Jon was not a Stark, though when the doom of the world was nigh, the lords of the North crowned him king.  He gave his crown to Brandon, Lord Eddard’s trueborn son, when the war ended, and King Brandon shared it with him in return, calling him brother though they shared neither father nor mother.  King Jon fought for the living, and fought for peace, and though he was known as the king in the north who led armies in battle, he knew success by how infrequently he was called upon to fight.  When Jon was home, the realm knew peace; when he rode forth, it would know peace again soon.  (There were whispers that King Jon could not be killed for he had no beating heart inside his body.  Any wound he took remained with him until the time of his passing.  Such tales, however, could not possibly be true for what man can live without a heart?  And while it is known that King Jon rode a dragon into battle at least once in defense of the North, that he had no heartbeat could not possibly be true.)

Sansa, Queen of Prosperity
↳ Queen Sansa learned coin from Lord Baelish, who helped her return to the North following a period of captivity in King’s Landing.  If Lord Baelish was one of the more clever masters of coin that the realm had ever seen, under his tutelage, Queen Sansa came to know the power of gold and markets–vital to the recovery of the North following a long war and a longer winter.  Queen Sansa knew when sternness was required, but the realm knew her to have a generous hand, and through her guidance the North came to know prosperity again.  Artisans flocked to Winterfell, for Queen Sansa dearly loved music, and bakers competed in making the best lemon cakes for her.  (Rumors plagued Queen Sansa for most of her days that Lord Baelish’s untimely demise–an illness that tore through him and slew him in his sleep–was wrought from poison she slipped into his glass of Arbor Gold.  Rumors of poison have followed Queen Sansa ever since the death of Joffrey Baratheon, and thus cannot be trusted to hold any merit at all.)

Rickon, King of Reaping
↳ King Rickon was the youngest of his siblings, and barely more than a babe when his parents died.  He lived his early days among the people, and in fear that Boltons or Greyjoys would find him and slay him in his sleep.  Though many believed that he had died at Theon Greyjoy’s hands when the Prince of Salt and Rock took Winterfell, it soon became known that Greyjoy had slain two farmer’s boys and passed them off for the young princes of Winterfell.  Though King Rickon was likely too young to remember such an event, he was known to mention it often in his work, for he turned himself to the reaping every autumn when the harvest moon rose, making sure that no farmer felt unable to tend to his fields, and that the North was prepared for the oncoming winter.  (As with his brothers and sisters, there are flights of fancy that have entered the realm of myth for King Rickon as well.  If Queen Arya headed a pack of a thousand wolves, it is said that King Rickon wore the skin of a great black wolf that would use his size and strength to protect the smallfolk from smaller packs who would set their eyes on livestock.  Such tales are merely tales, though, for no man can wear the skin of a wolf.)


I am the dragon’s daughter and I swear to you, that those who would harm you will die screaming.

 I am a khaleesi of the Dothraki.

Moving in together (headcanon)

requested: “Going house shopping with tom would be the cutest thing ever”


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Moving in together

- I’m not fine at all, ok?
- Tom would be very exigent about it;
- “Babeeeee, we need a bigger house for Tessa and the babies”;
- “Babies?”;
- “Yeah, the ones we’ll have”
- “Tom, I’m still doing my master, you have to wait a little more”
- Tom pouting;
- “And we’re not married” You add;
- “Not yet…”
- Lots of hold hands;
- And forehead kisses;
- “We need another room for Harrison”
- I bet you’d play ‘the adults’;
- Like one day Tom came with a suit and tie because he wanted to look like a businessman;
- But when the estate agent left you alone you could not control yourself anymore and you kissed him many times;
- Soon his new elegant suit reached the floor as well as your clothes;
- “Keep the tie on, Tom”
- Asking you “What do you think of this house, love?”
- “Uhm… I don’t feel at home”;
- “My house is where you are”
- Smiling like crazy because his dream is finally coming true;
- “Ok, there, there, over there, the sofa, the carpet…”
- “Tom, what are you doing?”
- “I’m just selecting the places where I want to have sex with you in this house”
- “What?”
- “I also have some nice ideas where we can hide weed. I saw this in a movie”
- Lots of palm-face;
- After three months, you finally found the right house;
- It was in London;
- And more than five minutes walk from his parents house;
- Tom would be so excited;
- “That’s the house where I want your babies to grow”;
- Taking pictures of everything;
- “Tom where you’re done would you like to help your girlfriend carrying the boxes?”
- Lots of pictures on the wall;
- “Tom, don’t you dare hang that picture on the toilet”
- “But babeeeeee, we look so happy”
- “Yes ok but not my the toilet”
- Throwing a huge party at your new house;
- “We should inaugurate the house, darling” you whispered in his ear;
- But after you would be exhausted;
- The day later you’d stay at home all day and have a ‘fuck marathon’ all day long;
- Having sex everywhere, in every room;
- Also on the balcony when it’s dark outside;
- And nothing… I can’t wait to move with Tom


Originally posted by stormborn

Sansa x Young!Reader / Daenerys x Young!Reader

“You must leave here, there is a ship going across the red sea.” Sansa hissed as you both hurried through the castle.

“But why can’t I stay here with you?” You complained as she tugged you too quickly and your legs tangled in your dress.

“Because if you stay you will be stuck here forever like me, I am no longer marrying the king which means you aren’t safe… you may be a very far removed Stark cousin but you are still a Stark and if we all go you would have claim to Winterfell.” She explained hurrying you out of the docks and to a ship.

Keep reading

Valentina is anti-black as hell. First we have the issue of her stigmatizing Shea as the ABC (angry black chick.) Through years of systematic racism and stereotyping, any black person calling you on your shit, is automatically seen (by ignorant people) as the aggressor, whether they’re calm or not. Even though we could easily see that Valentina was actually the one upset but through her prejudice, she could only see Shea’s truth as aggression and anger-fueled speech. You get it? Simple. So that’s that on that but THEN we discovered the fact that Valentina lied to Nina about “protecting” her from her fans and later went to Shea basically boasting about how nice that was of her. That was unnecessary. Unless you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing trying to seem like an ally. Shea didn’t need to know what conversation you specifically had with Nina, who just so happens to be one of the only other black queens. You didn’t need to tell Nina you would “protect” her. Just do it. Being a decent person is not deserving of some type of reward.

Game of Thrones Fic Rec: Sansa Stark

Powerful is Sansa Stark - a fighter and survivor, her ability for self preservation is unmatchable. Years of torment, yet Sansa has not broken. Her scars give her leverage, standing tall and strong in her conviction and actions. A true Lady of North, for she, like all Starks, knows winter is coming.

  • Sansa Stark x Jaime Lannister
    • The Eyes See True*: Tyrion’s escape plan for Jaime is successful, and he leaves Riverrun without having made a vow to return Catelyn Stark’s daughters. He arrives immediately after the Battle of Blackwater and learns the truth about Cersei much sooner. Joffrey and Sansa are still engaged. How will his presence change events?
    • The Lion and the Wolf*: What would happen if, instead of Tyrion, Sansa Stark is wed to the other brother? If she can win him, can Sansa use Jaime Lannister to influence his own family? Or, better, will he keep his oath and take her home? Jaime L./Sansa S.
  • Sansa Stark x Joffrey Baratheon
    • A Caged Songbird*: “I will be a silent, and dutiful wife,” Sansa spits. “I will be their pretty little songbird, and wear their ugly crown, and sit on their painful throne. I shall give him a babe, and my love, and I will wait until he thinks that he has won. And then I shall take his life.“ Shae goes still. "You … you plan to kill the King?” “No,” Sansa says. “I plan to kill my husband.”
    • Heart of a Lion: Good Joffrey! Got your attention? Basically this is ‘what if Robert had Joffrey fostered by Ned? The result is a somewhat decent Joffrey, who regards the Starks as his family, genuinely loves Sansa, is at odds with his mother who only wants (what she perceives as) what’s best for him. Despite this, all hell breaks loose anyways.
    • The Northern Lion: King Robert knew nothing good would come of his son inheriting the Iron Throne if he kept behaving the way he did. After the last straw of Prince Joffrey’s petulant and violent behavior, King Robert sends the unusual five year old to be a ward under House Stark. If anyone could fix the Future King of Westeros, it would be Eddard Stark.
    • The Thrill and the Hurting*: Sansa slips into shadows. She can play Joffrey’s games or perish on his horrific playground. She realizes she must invent a new persona to suit her mad king’s desires. Joffrey is plagued by unsettling flashbacks that may explain his gruesome hobbies. As the memories become more vivid, he must face a very dark secret he repressed during childhood. Now they play in shadows. Together.
  • Sansa Stark x Margaery Tyrell
    • Rose Fangs and Wolf Thorns*: “'Valar morgulis,’ they say,” Margaery murmured. “But we are not men, my Sansa. And we are survivors."Margaery marries Joffrey, and becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa remains.
  • Sansa Stark x Oberyn Martell
    • A Red Wolf Emerges*: There is a chance to escape the monstrous place she used to call home. There is a chance to break free from the vile animal that is her husband. A wolf gets away from the hold of the men who flay, and finds solace in a city full of snakes.
    • Vengeance is Ours*: Armed with a common vengeance, it would seem that now is the best time for the Wolves of Winterfell to be allied with the Vipers of Dorne. If this was what it took to see the realm renewed from the hold of the Lannisters, this is the gamble that Robb Stark would take, even if the price was to have his sister Sansa wedded to the Red Viper himself.
    • Revelations: "She has night terrors. It relaxes her to sleep where I am, and as I am needed at my desk most nights, she’s taken to sleeping in the armchair. An innocent notion, I assure you, King Robb.”
  • Sansa Stark x Petyr Baelish 
  • Sansa Stark x Podrick Payne
    • i love a maid as white as winter: She moves too quickly for him to react, but suddenly, her hand is on his chin and her lips are pressed against his cheek. The gesture fills him up like Arbor gold, a sip of summer in an instant, a sample of something more.
    • Game of Thrones: After the Trials*: Podrick suffers a hard life, bullied at school by Joffrey for things beyond his control, he suffers daily. Sansa also suffers at Joffrey’s hands, as his 'girlfriend’. When events spiral out of control, the two begin to discover their feelings for each other and begin to wonder if they can truly be together and see Joffrey brought to justice.
  • Sansa Stark x Sandor Clegane (The Hound)
    • A Lightness*: Sandor never left during the Battle of the Blackwater. Stannis was defeated and killed. Robb returned to Winterfell to take back his home. He married Roslin Frey and there was no Red Wedding. Joffrey did not die at his wedding. Robb waited for the right opportunity to take Joffrey down. For Sansa, there was only waiting. Waiting for someone to take her from King’s Landing… waiting for the rest of her life to begin. (Complete)
    • A Song of Steel*: Sandor Clegane embarked on a quest to find his brother, but so far all he’s found is a lost little bird - and a big problem.
    • Always Find Me Here*: Joffrey makes them do it - again, and again, and again. (Complete)
    • Broken Wing*: Sansa is broken beyond repair. (Complete)
    • Come Morning Light*: “I lit a candle and I prayed for you,” Sandor rasped. “I prayed that you’d hate me and forget me, forget this face. And I’ve been praying it ever since. Get that in your pretty head, girl. I lit a fucking candle, and I prayed for you.” (Complete)
    • Cut if out and then Restart: After the Battle of Blackwater, Sandor takes Sansa to Riverrun and joins the Starks; Yet the road to redemption is never a simple one, nor is it an easy thing to change one’s fate. (Complete)
    • Her Liquor’s Top Shelf*: Sansa Stark has had an easy life as a normal teenager until she gets embroiled in the life of Sandor Clegane, a man who seemingly has a simple life himself of owning and running a bar. Clegane has a dark past, though, and he owes debts. When his old boss comes calling on those debts, Sandor can’t say no. Under the guise of being a nightclub owner, Renly Baratheon runs half of the city against the likes of the corrupt politician, Tywin Lannister. The balance of power is shifting, though. Jaime Lannister, who has broken the law under his badge, turns his eyes onto Sandor. Meanwhile, Renly turns his eyes onto Jaime and the entire Lannister family. What results is a war unleashed onto the very streets of Kingsland, pulling Sansa’s own family into its clutches and changing their lives forever—and no one more than herself and her sister, Arya Stark. (Complete)
    • The Hound and the Bird*: Sandor and Sansa try to fight their growing feelings for each other as King’s Landing descends into chaos. Together, they find soft moments in a harsh place.
    • Into the Wood*: A divergence after Blackwater. (Complete)
    • Kept*: Joffrey is still alive after his wedding to Margery Tyrell and Sansa is still his prisoner. But when his most loyal guard asks for a favour, he feels honour bound to grant it. (Complete)
    • Kindred*: It is said that two souls, whether kin or strangers, old or young, friend or foe, may be 'kindred’. These souls are thought to be bound in some way, their paths wound by Fate from the same thread. Many never realize this, but some choose to follow the thread, whatever may come. Until.
    • The Prophecy*: Prophecies of market charlatans might entertain idiots who have their heads full of dreams, but Sandor knows better. Love, lands, family. Why not as well tell him that he will soon sprout wings and fly into the sun, as longs as she is at it? (Complete)
    • Thunderstruck*: Straight-laced and a yuppie in the making, Sansa is dragged to a metal concert by Arya and Gendry where she captures the eye of the guitarist of the band Cannibal Star. Crude and lewd, Sandor is everything Sansa was certain she didn’t want. Even with this unlikely match, sparks fly and misadventures ensue as they try to get their two worlds to combine.
    • Wolves and Hounds Work Together*: Sandor decides to help Sansa and rescues Ned from being executed, swearing loyalty to the Starks. He is made Sansa’s sworn shield to protect her from any conflict due to the upcoming war, but what will happen when they spend too much time together?
  • Sansa Stark x Tyrion Lannister
    • A Shadow and a Wolf*: Tyrion Lannister weds Sansa Stark and everything goes as it happened in the show. However, just before Joffrey’s wedding, an unexpected event changes everything. The forced husband and wife will have to go beyond their family loyalties in order to survive and hope to win the game of thrones.
    • Desperate to Connect*: Sansa is in need of security since the last of her family has been butchered at the Red Wedding; but what if Baelish cannot come through with his promise? She develops a new strategy in the fight for her survival; one that will impact the lives of her and Tyrion Lannister forever.
    • Sins of the Father*: Joffrey never died at the Purple Wedding so Tyrion wasn’t put on trial for his death nor did he murder his father and lover. Sansa didn’t fall into the hands of Littlefinger - though she did fall into bed and babe with Tyrion. Spans their life until 318 and it wasn’t as clean as they thought it might be with an heir produced for Winterfell and Casterly Rock. Also, being Queen does not bode well for Margaery when she struggles to give Joffrey a son at first,monly daughters which he ends up neglecting, only for his eldest to become a sadistic murderess: his ideal child for the Iron Throne whole his only surviving son is the heir he never wanted.
    • UNDER THE SUMMER SUN*: Tyrion and Sansa escape together from the Purple Wedding in an intensely emotional, romantic and sexual voyage, also full of discovery and a little adventure. I love this couple.
    • Wolf in the Lion’s Den*: A tale of Sansa and Tyrion’s growing relationship after they have married. How will their relationship bud among the troubles that surround them?
Blue Winter Roses

Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark’s love started the war, Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen’s love will end it. Spoilers for season 7.

Pairings; Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark; Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen

Blue Winter Roses

“A blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice, filling the air with sweetness.”

Rhaegar Targaryen was the fiercest warrior in all of Westeros. The son of the “mad king” Aerys Targaryen II and the beautiful Rhaella. Rhaegar was the crowned prince of Dragonstone and the heir to the iron throne, set to take over the mighty House Targaryen when his father succeeded the throne to him. He was said to be one of the most beautiful men in all the realm with flowing silver hair, a body like one of the gods, and violet eyes. Rhaegar had a special talent that was one of his most admired traits. He loved to sing. The bards would sing songs of just how beautiful his voice was. Rhaegar was never one for the song of swords like his rivals Robert Baratheon and Jaimie Lannister. He always preferred his golden harp to the cold silver steel of his sword.

Rhaegar would often visit Summerhall and bring only his harp. His songs were said to reduce women to tears. He was desired by all the Dornish and Westorsi princesses. Rhaegar had chosen his bride to be Elia Martell, the beautiful Dornish princess. They had a lavish wedding and she birthed him two children, Rhaenys and Aegon. Rhaegar believed Aegon to be the prince that was promised, born to make the world a better place. Elia had grown bed-riden due to the demanding births of her children. She was told she couldn’t have anymore children due to the harsh births of Aegon and Rhaenys. All the more, Rhaegar had kept his vow to his Dornish wife. That is until the tourney at Harrenhall.

Rhaegar had succeeded tremendously at the tourney, even beating Ser Arthur Dayne. He had won the opportunity to crown the queen of love and beauty. A beautiful crown made of blue winter roses. The whole crowd has expected him to name the princess his queen. After all, she was the future queen of Westoros. Rhaegar gave his crown of winter roses to another, Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon’s betrothed.

Lyanna Stark was beautiful, although her beauty was thought to be of a wild kind. Lyanna didn’t share the features of Elia Martell. She had long raven hair, a thin frame, and eyes of grey. She was a noble and righteous woman, but wild at heart. She was born to the broody Stark family of Winterfell. She loved her brothers Brandon, Benjen, and Ned with a fierce loyalty. Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon, as her father Rickard had promised her to the young lord of Storm’s end. Lyanna had confided in Ned that Robert wasn’t one to keep his marriage bed vows.

Lyanna had come to the tourney at Harrenhal and noticed three men kicking a boy no younger than 15. The boy was Howland Reed who happen to be employed by her father. Lyanna saved the boy and cleaned up his wounds. Lyanna was a kind soul at heart. Howland Reed would always remember that women who saved him from the squires. Lyannna had attended a feast and saw the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen play a beautiful and sad song on his harp. It made her weep. Rhaegar later crowned her the queen of love and beauty placing a crown of blue winter roses on her lap.

If the rumors were to be believed, Lyanna was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen with the help of Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent. Many tales have been told about the wolf girl and the dragon prince. If they were to believe Robert Baratheon, Lyanna was taken against her will and raped by Rhaegar Targaryen. If they were to believe others, Lyanna went of her own free will with the handsome prince. Tales of songs and stories never to be forgotten some would say. Only the truth remained for those who were there.

The real truth behind Rhaegar and Lyanna’s story was simple. A true love story. Although the rumors told of a grim tale of the two star crossed lovers, the reality was far from it. Lyanna had willingly gone with her prince to Dorne. Against the advice and pleading of her brothers and family, Lyanna had unwittingly caused a War in the Seven Kingdoms that would last years. Much like Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. Rhaegar abandoning his duty to wife Elia Martell, and Lyanna abandoning her duty to betrothed Robert.

Rhaegar had his marriage to Elia annulled. A secret hidden away in the lost pages of the citadel. Until a man named Samwell Tarly came upon them years later, but that’s a tale for another time. He and Lyanna married in a forest wedding deep in the woods of Dorne. Lyanna had looked truly radiant in a deep blue violet gown, flowing raven hair, and a bouquet of winter blue roses. Rhaegar looking like the Targaryen he was in full red and black armor with three dragon heads on the crest. They had recited their undying love for each other in the woods on the that moonlit night.

The tales tell of the love that started the war, or as many know Robert’s rebellion. Robert seething with jealousy and wrath at Rhaegar for taking the one women he couldn’t have. He became obsessed with the wolf princess, even as he took Cersei Lannister as a bride. Cersei knew he never truly loved her, but Cersei had a secret of her own. She was fucking her twin brother, Jaime. Although that’s a tale for another time as well. This Jaime Lannister, also known as Kingslayer, had slayed Rhaegar’s father “Mad King” Aerys Targaryen II. Aerys wanted to burn King’s Landing to ground with wildfire. They say Targaryens are born with the flip of coin due to the rampant incest in their lineage to keep their bloodline pure, one side is madness the other side greatness. Aerys had landed on madness. Rhaegar on greatness.

Although Rhaegar had greatness in him, his love was selfish. He chose love over duty and honor. He had foolishly and recklessly caused the marriage of three great houses to collapse. One with a mad king, one with a jealous fat cunt, and the other with wolf blood. This selfishness is what ultimately led to his death at the trident at the hands of Robert Baratheon. He had fought valiantly. Although Rhaegar had betrayed his marriage and family name, the people still loved him. He was brave, noble, and kind. Rhaegar was foolish though, blinded by love for a woman who smelled like winter roses. The fall of House Targaryen laid at his feet. Robert Baratheon crowned king of the seven kingdoms after the Kingslayer killed Aerys. Robert later betrayed by Cersei, and the Lannisters held the throne for years. Alas, the wheel continuing. “Starks,Lannisters, Baratheons, Targaryens, Tyrells, they are just spoke on a wheel. This one is on top that one is on top and on and on it spins.” It wouldn’t be until 20 years later that the wheel was finally broken.

Howland Reed, the young boy Lyanna saved from the squires, happened to be there that day Ned Stark brought a screaming baby boy from the Tower of Joy. A beautiful boy with grey eyes and dark hair. ”Promise me, Ned.” Lyanna begged of her brother to keep the boy a secret. If Robert knew of her child with the dragon prince, he would kill the boy. Ned had tried to urge Lyanna to keep fighting for her life, but a bed of blood claimed the light from her eyes. Ned would keep this promise till his death at the hands of the Lannisters on the block.

Ned had taken to name him Jon, and passed him off as his own. The boy Jon growing up to be Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell. Ned Stark had told his wife, Catelyn Tully, of the bastard boy fathered by him and a tavern wench and she had despised the boy his whole childhood. Ned loved Jon as if he was his own flesh and blood, although never revealing to Jon the truth although Jon begged him to tell him of his mother. Jon growing close with siblings Arya, Bran, Robb, and Rickon. Sansa Stark learning from her mother’s hate never treated the boy with kindness when he was a child. Ned had been summoned by Robert Baratheon to be his Hand. Ned took Sansa with him to the capital. Sansa always dreamed of marrying a young price. Catelyn had forbid Jon from Winterfell. Jon went North and took the black becoming a man in the Night’s Watch. He was to take no wife and have no children. Jon believing to be a bastard never thought he would find love as he had been looked down upon by Catelyn his whole life, never knowing a mother’s love. Little did Catelyn Tully know that boy would become King in the North, and command the very castle she forbid him from.

The King in the North was much like his father, but his looks took greatly after his mother. Jon was brave, noble, and kind. He was selfless and honest as well, a trait Rhaegar lacked greatly. Jon always assumed he gotten those qualities from his mother. Jon still baffled by the whole reveal of his lineage. He never truly thought of Rhaegar as his father. Ned Stark being the one who raised him from birth and taught him the morals of honor and integrity. He was never a Targaryen, he’d always be a Stark. Jon wish Ned would have told him of his mother, Lyanna. He had only heard tales from Howland Reed of how she saved him from the squires during the tourney at Harrenhal. Howland Reed told Jon as much in the tents outside of Greywater Watch during the War of the dead. So little time did he have to learn of his mother. Jon knew she loved blue winter roses and he somehow came upon them when the war ended at the remnants of the wall. He would always pick them for his wife after she had told him of her prophecy so long ago in the House of the Undying. “A blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice, filling the air with sweetness.”

Jon’s wife, Daenerys Targaryen, was the most beautiful women in the world. Long silver blonde hair and violet eyes like her brother Rhaegar. Daenerys was the very embodiment of house Targaryen, she favoring with the side of the coin that held greatness. Daenerys was strong, fierce, compassionate, and selfless. She had committed her dragons and armies to the war of the dead after rescuing Jon from his foolish attempt at trying to capture a wight to show Cersei Lannister the threat. She had lost one of her children that day, Viseron, named after her madman brother Viserys Targaryen. Jon had nearly lost his life that day after falling into a frozen lake. He will never forget the awe he had when Dany rode her three dragons into the battle against the army of the dead beyond the wall. She had saved all of them that day. When he awoke from his state of unconsciousness to her sitting at his bedside, Jon knew he had found the love he had been craving since he was a boy.

Jon had been in love once before, he thought. Circumstances and deception at play when he met the wilding Ygritte. She had been kissed by fire with a head full of bright red hair. Wild, bold, and fierce she worked her way into Jon’s heart without him knowing it. Jon knowing fully well the deception he was doing for his brothers, as he pretended to deceive the Night’s watch. He broke every vow he had with Ygritte that night in the cave. He only ending up leaving her, while she put three arrows in him. Funny how fate has a way of being cruel to him, as his wilding girl died in his arms with an arrow to the heart. Knowing the love he holds for Dany now, his love for Ygritte was a foolish youthful obsession and lust. He always had a place in his heart for Ygritte, but he had felt he didn’t love her out choice only out of sheer and dire circumstances.

His love for Dany grew out of choice, although the timing couldn’t have been worse. They were first at odds when he came to Dragonstone seeking help for the war against the dead. He furiously demanding her help and alliance, she furiously demanding he bend the knee to her cause. Daenerys was the rightful and last heir to the throne and Targaryen dynasty she thought at the time. The war for the throne still ongoing years after Rhaegar and Lyanna had died. Cersei Lannister the crowned queen of three, not seven, kingdoms Dany would always joke as Dany had alliances with Highgarden, Dorne, and the Iron Islands. Jon had grown to respect and admire Dany after he saw what kind of leader she would be. Still unwilling to bend the knee to, she let him mine the precious dragonglass under Dragonstone.

Jon, unaware of his blood at the time, even had the courage to pet one of her dragons. Dany teases him that he accepted them as his children that day even though he didn’t know it. Jon only truly realized his love for Dany when she sat at his beside and pledged herself to his cause while asking for nothing in return. He eventually bent the knee, although Dany never took the Northern title from him after the war ended. Jon’s love for Dany ran more deeply than even he could process. She had been afraid at first to accept his love and show her love in return. They were at war, and there was no time for such things. Selfless they were always putting their duty and their people before their own desires. Dany ending her war with Cersei Lannister to fight with the dead, Jon nearly giving his life fighting the Night king beyond the wall.

The difference between his love for Dany, and his father’s love for his mother was that his father was selfish. Rhaegar didn’t think of the consequences of running off with his mother. Blinded by pure love his father started a war that killed him and his mother. Lyanna no better herself as she left her family and brothers behind. He didn’t blame them for their selfishness, if he had the choice to do the same with Dany he may would have in different circumstances. Jon didn’t have that choice as Ned Stark had fashioned him for duty and honor. The War for the dead loomed upon them when they met, and the Night King wouldn’t wait.

Although Jon was different from his father in many ways, he was somewhat the same. He held a fierce, true love for Dany bound by an unwitting, stubborn honor for his pride and morals, and sometimes it made him think unrationally. When the war for the dead had ended, and Dany and Cersei battled with what armies they had left, Jon found out his true lineage from Bran and Sam. He was shocked to say the least. His whole life seemingly a lie now. Jon was no Targaryen. Dany had been thrilled when she had found out. “Blood of my blood.” she said to him as tears of joy streamed down her face. Jon wasn’t having much joy. He and Dany were related by blood. Dany being his father’s sister. Jon was at a standstill, Dany was the love of his life but his upbringing had taught him incest to be immorally wrong. His Stark values getting the best of him, he told Dany it better to not be together.

Furious and heartbroken, Dany took off on Drogon to go burn King’s Landing and take what was rightfully hers. The dragon blood of the Targaryen running through her veins, Dany was venomous towards Jon. How could something they could do nothing about tear them apart? He was a coward, just like his father. Rhaegar abandoning his house to run off with Lyanna Stark and starting a war, and Jon being the stubbon Stark he was ending any hope she had for a future with him and a house with a red door. So different father and son, yet so the same. Dany was no fool. She would never be like Lyanna Stark and foolishly hope for love and run away from her path. Dany would forget about Jon, and take what was rightfully hers. How had she strayed for so long from her goal? The war of the dead being a rightful purpose, but now that she had defeated the Night King with fire and blood why had she waited so long? Just like her brother, blinded by foolish love. Jon had torn down her walls and she felt as if she could finally be the girl she was again. She loved him like she had loved no other. How could he abandon her after all they had been through? Dany cried as Drogon flew towards the mad queen’s keep. Dany hadn’t wanted the throne after the war was over. She would defeat Cersei of course, but she had wanted to marry Jon and live in Winterfell. How desire can make people do such foolish things. Rhaegar was killed for it. Lyanna as well. Dany would not be.

It took Dany two days to burn King’s landing to the ground. Drogon spewing fire on the city below. Luckily most of the residents fleeing south to Dorne during the war of the dead. Jamie Lannister eventually slaying the mad queen with his own hands. King’s Landing lie in ash. Dany had become the queen she had never wanted to be. The queen of ashes. Most of her armies gone, Daenerys stood in the rubble of the Red Keep with her hand Tyrion at her side. What would Rhaegar think of her now? He always the valiant fighter and noble prince. He would never use dragons to burn the world.

Too enthralled in her fury when leaving Winterfell, Dany had forgotten Rhaegal was behind in Winterfell. Choosing to stay with his rider Jon. Dany seethed at the thought of one of her children staying behind. As much as Dany wanted to hate Jon with all her veins, she couldn’t. He was only doing what he thought was right. How could she blame him for choosing honor over love? His honor one of the qualities she loved him most for. Dany thought of Lyanna Stark. Dany may be more like the wolf princess than she thought. Jon had taken greatly after her. Daenerys had hopelessly followed Jon until the ends of the earth when the Night King arrived. Long forgotten her duty to the crown. Lady Lyanna had followed her brother to ends of the earth, not thinking of the consequences. Hadn’t Dany done the same? Risked her life for the one she loved. She had nearly lost it when following Jon by herself when he charged at the Night King. Only to be protected by an injured Drogon’s fire when a walker almost toppled her over into the frozen ice lake. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the ash of the Red Keep. She didn’t want the crown anymore, all she wanted was him.

It took Jon two days to realize how stupid he had been. He always chose honor and duty over love. This time it had cost him the one thing he only ever chose for himself. Truth be told, Jon didn’t care about the blood relation. He had never known Dany growing up, and they got together without even knowing of the relation. He loved her, and he had broken her because of his own foolish pride. As little as he thought of his father, they did have one thing in common. A desire to be with the one they loved. His father risking everything to be with Lyanna. What had Jon risked for Dany? She had given him everything to defeat the night king. She had given him her word, her body, and her heart. She never strayed from her promises. Jon broke her trust at the first sign of misfortune. Jon raced to his dragon, named after his father, Rhaegal and flew for King’s Landing.

It took him a day’s ride to get there. Plumes of smoke rising from the city. Rhaegal sensed where his mother and brother dragon were. It didn’t take the dragon long to land on the ground right by them. He saw her there staring at the burned down Red Keep with her back to him. The Imp noticing him first with a hard stare. He made his way over to his queen. He knew she could sense him behind her and she tensed.

She looked at him with heartbreak and sadness behind her violet eyes. What had he done?

Dany felt his presence when Drogon screamed for his brother. Had he come to mock her for rushing off furiously to defeat Cersei? No that wasn’t Jon. He had come to say goodbye. Tears sprang in her eyes. This was it. She would accept his decision because she loved him. Even if he didn’t want to be with her, she would still respect his choice. She still needed to clean up the mess from the wars and she needed his help to unite the people.

To her surprise, Jon had tears in his eyes when she looked at him. They just stared at each other and she began to understand. He hadn’t come here to say goodbye, he had come back for her. They had always said their emotions through their eyes. He had grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered deep apologies to her and told her how much he loved her. Dany melted in his arms. She told him that the world needed them to help make it a better place. She couldn’t do it alone, she needed him to help her. Together. They flew on dragon back to Winterfell the same night.

Like time repeating itself Jon and Daenerys got married in the moonlight under the godswood, just as Rhaegar and Lyanna married under a beautiful tree in the forest in Dorne. Jon wore grey and white armor with the stark direwolf on the crest. Dany wore a dress of black and red with flowing braids in her silver hair, and she carried a bouquet of blue winter roses.

Dany and Jon later ascended their claim to the throne to Tyrion Lannister as Warden of the Seven Kingdoms. A democracy with each Kingdom choosing their own leader. Jon had named his sister Sansa head of the North, and Gendry Baratheon warden of Storm’s end. Daenerys gave the Iron Islands to their rightful owner Yara Greyjoy, Highgarden to Bronn (he had always wanted a castle), and Casterly rock to Jaime Lannister. Tyrion diplomatically bringing peace and diplomacy for years to come.

Spring had finally come for Westeros, the wars coming to end. Peace and prosperity raining until their deaths. The love that had started the wars long forgotten in song. The love that ended the wars sung to all the children in the land.

Rumors were told of the great love story of the dragon queen and the wolf prince. Some say they ended up traveling to Essos and disappearing from the world, and some say they ruled secretly with Tyrion Lannister the whole time. Only the people who were there knew the truth.

Lyanna Targaryen told her children the tale of two star crossed lovers who ran away together and married in a forest. Their love had started a war for decades.

Lyanna Targaryen also told her children a tale of two star crossed lovers who raised her in a house with a red door and lemon tree growing outside in small village outside of Winterfell. Their love had ended that war.

queen in the north

The King in the North abdicates his throne and pledges allegiance to the Dragon Queen. However, the North remembers, and doesn’t follow suit. one shot 3k+

The walls of Winterfell and the people within them are cold and unforgiving.

This realization is something Daenerys takes to heart. For she is meant to be their ruler, and a good ruler is supposed to be beloved by the people. She cannot be like her father. She is no Mad King.

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thatgirlwiththeblackglasses  asked:

Heey! Would you like to write a dating Theo Raeken would include...? Love your blog!💗💗

A/n: thank you cutiee and i’m reaaally sorry that i am late with this!

Dating Theo Raeken would include:

Originally posted by chimeracuddles

  • You hating his ass at first bc damn did that boy hurt your friends really badly
  • But you still secretly found him attractive 
  • It wasnt after the fight with the dread doctors that you realized he was just a boy who wanted its own pack/friends
  • You actually felt really bad for theo especially when he was dragged to hell by his sister
  • But it wasn’t until Liam got him back that you started to open up to him more and taking care of him
  •  You realized that he is a genuinely a really nice guy
  •  no lie he actually liked you for a very long time so he decided to change just for youu
  •  It wasnt until you almost got taken by the ghost riders that he expressed his love for you
  • He didn’t even wait for your answer he just grabbed your face and kissed you
  • Theo would be very sweet in your relationship but at the same time he can be very annoying
  • He gives you ALOOTTT of kisses. Doesnt matter if you want it or not, he will kiss you!
  • He gets jealous pretty fast. Especially with Stiles because you’re so close to him.
  •  Theo would treat you like an actuall queen, no lie
  •  You two would go on cute little dates together
  •  It could be a walk in the park or just chilling at home and eating pizza
  •  Theo would be known to be the dominant one in bed ;) ;) BUTTT he loves being submissive 
  •  A lot of rough sex
  •  Sex everywhere
  •  But overall Theo would be an amazing boyfriend who is caring, sweet and a gentleman.
  •  Get yourself a theo people

okay, now that we have snow white being a canon supporter of Ruby and Dorothy, can we stop having her as a homophobic bigot being / the antagonist in stories that follow canon? Please?

Because you guys seem to forget, Snow White is very much like Mary Margaret, in the sense that she’s so saccharinely sweet on the idea of love.

She wouldn’t be against an LGBT relationship. She’d be suggesting the u-haul after the first date, and planning the wedding by the third.

for everyone who ships jon and daenerys…. i would like to offer you some alternatives:
-daenerys and arya (danarya), a true glo up, the mother of dragons and the wolf queen as her queensguard, literal definition of a power couple. could take over the world together. also: nymeria chilling w the dragons, a concept
-daenerys and sansa (daensa) actual fire and ice bc of the hair. beautiful and could also kill you with one look. political queens.

Not your Queen (Thorin Oakenshield x reader)

Originally posted by thesedwarvesarekilinme

You shifted in your sleep, a feeling of uneasyness all around your body.

Since you had started your journey, you had been attacked by trolls, orcs and stone giants, not to mention the brief stay at Rivendell, which compensated all the dangers. Being a hobbit, the cozyness of the place was everything but hostile, a thought you only shared with Bilbo, your brother.

-Everyone! Wake up!-Thorin’s voice boomed inside the cave.

You were shaken from your thoughts as you noticed how the floor began to crumble to finally open, leaving you, your brother and the Company in a freefall.

After what seemed like forever, you finally landed, on top of your brother, with a grunt.

Hoards of goblins came toward you, screeching and ready to attack.

They started to pull everyone out and sending them to who knows where.

You pulled out your sword, but it was easily stolen by one of those creatures.

-Bilbo!Where are you?-You shouted, getting no answer.

Someone tapped your shoulder and you turned around, ready to scream. It was Nori.

He made a gesture with his head, signaling to where we had landed. As you looked, you saw Bilbo, scurrying away from the goblins.

-Wish I was him right now-You told Nori, as you were pushed from beside him, to beside Balin.

-Don’t worry lass, everything’s going to end well-He said with a reassuring smile, noticing your worried features.

-I really hope you are right-You answered, making a sad smile.

As you arrived to the main platform, there stayed the most horrendous creature you had ever seen: his deformed face with a smug smile, his big body that crushed smaller gobblins beneath him, not to mention his horrible voice when he had sung…Mahal’s Sake! What was that? That couldn’t be classified as music…

-Who has been so bold to enter MY kingdom?-Asked the Goblin King, eyeing us suspiciously.

-Dwarves, our malevonce-Answered one of the goblins.

After that, they disarmed us, and although I tried to hide from the creature, luck was never on my side, after all.

-And who is that?Come into the light, don’t be afraid.

You felt a hand over your own after that, pulling you back towards his owner. You looked up and saw Thorin’s blue orbs, pleading you not to go.

-I’ll be fine, don’t worry- You smiled, giving his hand a little shake.

As you stepped into the light, everyone started wolf-whistling.

-It’s a hobbit wench!-Said one of the goblins, smirking maliciously.

You looked around you, and horror made its way into your body, making you shake.

-I have to say, you are quite beautiful. You would make the perfect queen for me-Said the King, smiling.

You gasped at that.

How dared he? After what we had gone through, and now this…

-You know, lately I’ve been feeling lonely, and I could use company here-He continued smug.

All the goblins started laughing, wolf-whistling and speaking in foul language.

-STOP!-Thorin’s voice echoed in the kingdom, as he appeared- Nobody has the right to treat lady (Y/N) in such a vulgar manner.

-Look who we have here-Said the King, venom on his voice-Is the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain. But you don’t have a mountain, nor you are a king, which makes you…A nobody really-Said jokingly, earning laughs from the goblins.

-You know, scum-You started, really pissed-I’m fed up of people who think women are objects and property of someone. Guess what?I’m not-You continued, pointing an accusing finger.

After that, they prepared the torturing machines, only to be saved by Gandalf, again. When you had escaped the caves, with a lot of effort, you found Bilbo standing there, like nothing happened, after a good ranting courtesy of Thorin.

-You were really brave back there-Thorin commented, blushing.

-Oh, it was nothing, I don’t want to be his queen-You smiled mischievously-But maybe I want to be somebody else’s-You concluded, looking at him and smirking.

-And who might that be?

-I think I haven’t found him yet-You answered, brushing past him.

Then, he caught your wrist and spinned you around.

-Want to say that again?-He smiled innocently .

-Let me think of…-You were silenced by Thorin’s soft lips on your own.

-You know, I wanted to do that for a while now-He said, after he parted from you.

-I can’t say I hadn’t been looking forward it

-Be mine?-He asked, with puppy eyes.

-I’m yours, now and forever-You, smiled back.

Then, he kissed you again.

Title: Queen of Hearts
Fandom: Riverdale
Characters: Cheryl Blossom x Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1,400
Warnings: None
Notes: This is a result of me lamenting on the fact that Cheryl really deserves someone who loves and appreciates her.

Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

Prior to falling in love with the captain of the River Vixens, you had absolutely no interest in cheerleading. You thought it was one of the stupidest ‘sports’ in existence, and it was nothing more than a social construct to allow pretty, popular girls to assert their dominance over their school. It was most certainly still that, but after accompanying Cheryl to practice every day for two weeks while her car was in the shop, you realized it was of much more importance than just some air-headed rhyming phrases and pom-poms.

“You’re really going to just sit in solemn silence with your headphones in, while the hottest and most talented girl you know is working her ass off right in front of you?” Cheryl inquired as she followed you over to the bleachers. You set her duffle bag down next to your backpack, and made yourself as comfortable as possible on the cold metal seat while she fished around in her bag.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll definitely be watching your ass – I just won’t be paying much attention to anything else,” you clarified, shooting her a wink, and she rolled her eyes in response. Still, you could see a small smile on her red lips.

“Whatever, just… keep quiet – and let me know if you need anything,” Cheryl said, attempting to still sound annoyed, yet unable to keep from being sweet to you.

“Gotcha, doll.”

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Elorcan Werewolf AU part 6

It was so damn hard to not write Lorcan instead of Lory and vice versa. You know you’re tired when you write cock instead of cook.

“Just like our eyes, our hearts have a way of adjusting to the dark”

Elorcan Werewolf Part 6

Lory didn’t come back. No matter how many times she left raw meat out in the woods or called his name. No one responded to the have-you-seen-this-dog posters she dutifully taped on tree trunks, listing rewards she’d scour from her trust funds. The animal control couldn’t find him, and found no traces of a large-sized dog or wolf in the woods. There was no sighting in the inner cities either.

Lory was gone without a trace, as if he were a ghostly whisper whose secret existence only Elide knew.

Elide mourned him, and even held a funeral for him, placing all his collars in formation around a patch of grass he often frequented, moodily staring into the forest as if cursing the restraints on his body.

Only the pink collar was gone, leaving a foul aftertaste in her mouth: never had before Elain so despised a color, and demonstrated her pettiness by refusing to wear anything of that hue.

On her third night of eating rocky road ice cream and staring blearily at her papers, Manon and Aelin burst through her door without warning. Elide popped off the the chair, hand snaking out to reach for a spare dagger. Seeing it was only her Alpha and Beta, she placed a hand over her heart and managed a glare at them.

The frown had easily been swept away as she took in her friends’ appearances. In Manon’s arms, a grocery bag of chocolate covered strawberries winked at her. In Aelin’s own hands, shopping bags of dresses and short skirts filled the very top to bottom.

“I can’t have my favorite healer down.” Aelin breezed through her living room, pulling aside her curtains and tossing all her tissues into the waste bin. After a heartbeat and cocking her head, she amended, “Well maybe Sorscha as well.”

“We have this day all to ourselves,” added Manon. “The Thirteen are in command for twenty four hours.” She stalked through the threshold, inspecting her cottage, and noting the lack of pictures adorning her tables and walls.

Elide reached for a strawberry, but Manon slapped her wrist and ushered her to her bedroom. Her friends tutted in distaste at the simple designs; Aelin nearly threw a fit when she saw her gray-lined bedroom.

“How can you live like this?” Aelin tugged her fire-gold strands of hair, surveying Elide’s simplistic room. Elide watched as Aelin tear through her dresser, clucking her tongue with an almost revulsion reserved for her utmost disappointment. Manon, however, sniffed the air, and flocked to the window, her spine stiff.

Elide played with the hem of her shirt. She’d also stared out that window, wondering where Lory had gone, and why he decided to not return, to abandon her. She had offered him a steady hearth and affection, pieces of her heart, and glimpses into her past.

Emptiness tugged at the corner of her heart. She didn’t need glamour when she had Lory’s presence. There was a soothing quality to his presence that didn’t need to speak volumes from the human tongue. The mere steady and silent exposure to an animal with no ill intent towards her, in which he’d lick her palm and twitch those ears, stare at her, as if she were the only human in the world—

Aelin flopped onto Elide’s bed in defeat. “The only option I see is getting laid.” She tapped her chin in thought. “Shopping and eating won’t cut it. You need physical contact.”

Elide shook her head, and stood next to Manon. The Beta’s eyes fixed on the path of grass where the collars sat in heart formation, mocking Lory’s absence. She imagined Lory curled up on the grassy plains, his hind legs bent in restlessness, and those dark, dark eyes following her shape as she did her yoga exercises, watching the Sun gallantly spiral into the vast sky.

Her heart warmed as she studied the two females in her room. One herself blazed with fierce mortality and sheer determination, the other a honed icicle and ironstone. They were two sides of the same coin, and if Elide wished, she could flip them into the air at her command.

Manon surreptitiously sniffed the air again. “Dog,” she hissed.

Elide nodded in confirmation. She’d always thought herself a cat lady, but there was something different about Lory other than his moodiness and his steely demeanor that seemed to simply see more than she did. The way his eyes would flicker with deeper intellect, and the powerful muscles rippling across his back as he stalked around her house as if he owned every inch. The way that nose would twitch in aversion when another male neared her, and a deep growl would thunder from the base of his throat—

It was almost as if her were her guardian angel. Her watchdog.

Elide pinched her arm. Dear Hellas, she really was hung over a dog, an animal that most likely found another warm home with another owner who would treat him with care every second—

Why was she so damned jealous?

Aelin joined them at the windowpane, and laid a hand against Manon. “Speak,” she ordered, and Elide recognized the Alpha command, one she rarely used.

“If my senses aren’t deceiving me, just a mere dog wasn’t here.”

“Your senses don’t lie.” Aelin crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“I detect a Lycan. Not a full-blooded one, mind you, but a wisp of a male that has Lycan blood running through his veins.”

Elide’s veins turned to ash. “No,” she said.

Wolf, Nox had said, and she’d dismissed him. What did a human know about dogs and wolves?

“Lory’s just a wolf. Or a large dog,” she blurted, and leaned back as Manon towered over her.

Aelin dragged Elide to her bed as Manon flipped her white-ash hair over a shoulder. “Tell us about this Lory,” she hummed.

Elide decided she did not like the glint in Manon’s eyes.

Lorcan was in deep shit. Deep, unrelenting shit. He had returned to the cadre, his bones cracking in protest, hair tousled and grim coating the exposed inches of skin, and sweat running down his neck in rivulets. He could feel his wolf thrashing inside of him, craving any type of release that didn’t involve a dead body, but utter dominance.

His wolf needed to claim his lovely, sweet, vixen of a mate, and Lorcan had forbade that.

His wolf needed to at least dominate a female, a poor attempt to loosen the edge of feralness that chipped away at him. Only his mate could fully quell him, but his mate did not want anything to do with him. A part of him disagreed, that the rules of nature and raw hand of fate had paired them together, but if his pure mate did not want him, then he would not object.

Because he was bound by blood and the fallen. Could his mate look past the hands that had snapped the necks of even the children? Could his mate accept his dark-woven future and calling for bleak death? Could his mate tolerate his penchant for starkness, the life of a spartan?

Fenrhys let out a low chuckle as Lorcan stalked through the entrance, his body shuddering in pain. His wolf was a monster inside of him, and it took his entire willpower to turn away the demands of intimacy. He would not touch another female unless his mate permitted him.

His wolf cursed Lorcan’s decision, roaring in protest. Both savage and pathetic, every Lycan’s wolf side needed a gentle hand in their life, and over the years, that softness expressed itself in watching submission, and Lycans resorting to casual sex.

It was another reason for his mate to hate him, he supposed. He could sense the innocence radiating from his mate, and while that made him and his wolf beyond ecstatic, a small part of him had wished that mate wouldn’t be so pure—so that he could also have a reason to hate her.

And in the hatred, they could find themselves back to each other, easier. Pain was the easiest emotion to deal with, the easiest feeling to manipulate. Words and the heart intertwined so deeply, all he could do is lie and break a strong psychological mindset.

But disgust had to be earned. Something had to go a little wrong, a little awry. A stone had to be overturned to reveal the dirt underneath rather than the smooth, cool surface. His history was no secret, his path as a warrior, as the cadre’s gamma, or first general. The tales of his executions and interrogations were no sight for his mate, a young girl who delighted in clean, savory truths. His rock had been tossed into the swamps to rot and he had emerged as the victor. Unscathed, but internally scarred.

He was not the male for her, and he cursed the Moon Goddess for this pairing. He had waited eons for the notion of love, and had waited for another broken soul who had wrecked havoc upon others—so they could share this pain in empathy. But the hand of nature had given him someone who could mend him, and that was something Lorcan knew he didn’t deserve. He could break his mate’s neck without so much as a blink, and ruin that soft skin and fill it with scars and blemishes. He could crush her with a single blow, and this precious, delicate creature that was Elide Lochan deserved more in life than a murderer.

Fenrhys laughed under his breath, watching Lorcan make way to his room. “She’s got you more whipped than Maeve.”

Maeve, their past Alpha Queen who had haunted his nightmares still. 

Now the only nightmare consisted of his mate’s rejection.

He could feel the ebbing of his darkness receding with his wolf’s ferality. Soon his own body would fade away into a weak waste of flesh if he and his wolf did not see eye to eye. If a Lycan’s human and wolf side did not live in harmony, the body would fail, and Lorcan had never once imagined himself in this scenario. The things his mate caused him without knowing—Elide Lochan would be his downfall.

He could only snap his teeth at Fenrhys and stagger towards his room, promising to wring the Fenrhy’s neck later.

His wolf called for Elide; to be simply near her would be enough to quell him for a week—months even.

But Lorcan refused to run the risk of claiming her outright. It was the rare case that his wolf overtook his body completely, pouring his intentions and will into every muscle and tendon. And the mere mention of his mate was enough for him cross the line into where the true feral lurked.

It was dangerous. He was dangerous. His mate made him more dangerous. He had no control of these matters of pure emotion coursing down him, making each step unbearable. His wolf demanded release and claiming and binding, and Lorcan slammed down on his will just as hard.

He had slaughtered armies. He would not allow the picture of his mate be his undoing. But that was her purpose, perhaps. To bring a Lycan to his knees. It would not be the first time in history such scheme had been done, and with all the misery Lorcan had caused, he wouldn’t expect anything less.

But sweet, sweet Elide—he didn’t believe she could harm a fly. She’d guide the insects that dared to breach her house out. She cooed and soothed. She was his angel. She was soft and gentle. She was everything he wasn’t.

“Lorcan,” Gavriel said.

He realized that he’d been leaning against a marble column, his entire posture tense.

“I’ll call Essar,” was all Gavriel said, before he disappeared down the hallway. A tang of gratitude swept down Lorcan that his friend did not help him limp back towards his room full of darkness.

Even Essar, the doe-eyed female, would not bother him there.

No one would bother a killer in his natural habitat.

His wolf was angered, and Lorcan did not bother to acknowledge the walls that were crumbling around him. He did not want Essar. He did not want a female who believed to see more in him, and wanted to change him. He did not want a casual fuck.

He wanted Elide Lochan.

And he would endure this pain of his body wasting away if it meant he could finally stay true to her. It was his penance, and he supposed he should thank the Moon Goddess for this chance.

“Bullshit.” Manon had walked back to the window, staring at the collars. “Although the scent is there, I refuse to believe that a male who is older than me and has killed more than me and seen more betrayals than me—will wear those pieces willing. And pink, much less.”

Aelin flung a hand over her heart. “You know, the names Lory and Lorcan are too similar too ignore. But the fact that a Lycan would willingly degrade himself for his mate—” Her Alpha let out a bitter, low chuckle.

Elide trembled, wrapping a blanket around herself. “Lory’s not Lorcan, Manon. Aelin, please.” She pleaded with them. “My mate doesn’t love me anymore than those girls he’s touched.”

She refused to believe this. Yet it explained so much, of why she was pining over a creature of the forest. It explained the comfort a four-legged creature could provide more than Aelin and Manon combined could bring her. It explained why she could trust him with stories of Morath, and why she needed to be around him constantly, checking up on him as much as he checked up on her. The way Lory looked at her—no animal would carry such tenderness in those eyes that had usually stared at everything in such solemn misery.

“You know, Rowan really has to pick up his game.” Aelin shook her head. “I’ve never seen him in wolf form, much less having a collar wrapped around that pretty neck. And we’re talking about a male who has probably has Death bowing to him. Pink, Elide? What were you thinking? That’s probably what scared him off.”

Elide bit her lip. “Did I mention that he ran off on a full moon?”

Manon’s head whipped around. She cocked her head in a way that was surely predatory, those eyes calculating. “You did not feel him cheating in anyway?”

She shook her head. “None. The mate bond doesn’t lie, and he’s actually kept…it…to himself.”

Aelin nodded to herself with grim certainty. “I really need to find a new mate.”

Manon clapped her hands. “Great. We have a female who doesn’t trust her male, and a male who’s pining after his female with one foot in the grave.” Her head swiveled towards Aelin. “Would Rowan tell you if Lorcan decided to visit Elide on a whim?”

The Alpha tossed her hands up in the air. “I think males blame females for bipolar syndrome because they displayed the traits in the first place. Who knows? One moment he’s sucking up to me, the next he’s the coldest floating piece of ice in Antarctica.”

Manon crossed over the room, her eyes dark. “Enough. I’ve done with you both fawning over your mates—” she dismissed Aelin with a bold flick of her nails, and turned towards Elide “—another reason we have come here is because we are holding a ball, and I think it would do you well to come. Leave your studies and moping for another day. Live one night, and see who you were before you met your mate.” She briefly glanced at Aelin. “And you as well.”

Aelin let out a harsh laugh and fell onto the bed. “Stars above. What have we come to, Elide?”

Elide cradled her pillow, imagining it as Lory. “Love. It does the worst to us. Doesn’t it?”

Aelin chose to move up the ball’s date by a week, so the Pack House was a flurry of commotion, silk and lace flying through the hallways. Perfumes and delicacies crammed in every corner, bouquets of every kind of flower floating in the breeze and fluttering around the curtains, which had been elegantly thrown open to allow the rays of sun and night pour into the sweeping ballroom. The crystal chandelier had been polished, with gold ornaments and statues gleaming at every facet. Soft streams of music swept away the blinding lights, the pleasantries of kisses and hugs exchanged as servants poured in, arms full of arrays of all kinds.

Aelin had called in every favor, demanding an all-out production. Ancient wine and bottles of drinks beyond Elide’s knowledge were brought out and displayed. Trinkling windpipes and glistening harps of all sizes were situated on pedestals, a grand piano arcing the center. Layers of cakes were seized into the kitchen, and a flurry of cooks flooded the hallways, arms full of batter and butter.

Elide watched, captivated by all the commotion. Until she saw a flower girl and a servant boy exchanging a sloppy, but passionate kiss in the gardens. When they pulled away, still in each other’s embraces, their faces were flushed red, but happy nonetheless.

Elide turned away.

The cadre had been invited. To not would have been a public insult and as good as a declaration of war. Aelin had flourished her arms out, declaring that shit was mostly to go down, and ordered an extra shift of guards to loiter in the hallways, and blend among the shadows. Elide had fled to her old room in anticipation, wondering how she’d confront Lorcan.

Thank you for protecting me as a wolf? Not putting up a fuss for wearing the collars? Watching me dress and shower? Did you get tired of my body—is that why you left?

As the sun set, and the moon rose, Elide couldn’t help the trepidation that pumped through every vein. It didn’t matter if Lorcan showed up with another girl or two notched up in his arms. She just had to see him.

The first trickle of guests streamed in, Aelin and Manon greeting each arrival with a curt nod and quick smile in customary tradition. Elide had smoothed the soft fabric of her skirts down, twirling a strand string of black around her finger.

She wanted Lorcan to know that she wasn’t afraid of death. She was a werewolf, and she also had bled from silver, had been held hostage in the Morath pack. She knew death and death knew her. Elide had often found herself on the brink of death, poison and morphine pumping through every vein of her scrawny body. The scars on her ankle was a reminder of the memories, locked up. The lashes of the whip were no stranger to her, and the stinging had always been her silent friend. The cold loneliness that had swept through her as she had crawled because her ankle had failed her, her Uncle—Alpha—Vernon failing her in worse ways. Morath had taught her that family was not blood. Family was trust, and trust was earned. She had learned that the world was not her oyster.

The world was clever and cruel, but it was also colorful, and if she could chose to live it so that she could be content not any seeking revenge, then she could rise above the pain. She would not Morath break her.

Because one day she would bring Morath down.

Elide didn’t believe that monsters were born. Monsters were cultivated and grown from the vices of humanity, something the Were were not exempt from either. And as Elide looked down at the crowds of entering people, she had an inkling of a feeling that Lorcan would not come. And as the clock chimed away minutes that transformed to hours, she knew her suspicions were right.

She didn’t think one individual, much less a male, could affect her this way. Manon had been wrong when she’d said that mates were a bedtime story. A mate was a thorn in her side, and she cursed the mate bond as a shrapnel of pain digging into her mind, a throbbing that beat louder with each breath. Something was off, and the mate bond flared between her, pulsing in her head. She could feel a gentle caressing down her side, and an almost frenzied despair flashing down.

Aelin was instantly at her side, half-carrying and half-guiding her to the infirmary. She pressed a palm against her forehead, and Elide moaned in pain.

“She’s burning up,” Aelin whispered to someone, who slammed a dagger into the table in frustration. Manon.

“Is he cheating on you?” Manon demanded, her voice near guttural. Her tapping of her nails against the steel table drove Elide further to an edge. There was something wrong—not by fault, but by nature. There was a wedge cleaving between her mate, but not between them. A struggle between man and wolf, a fight that always ended in bloodshed.

The Prince Rowan Whitethorn burst through the door, his face ashen. He further paled as Manon whipped out her favorite blade, Wind Cleaver, that promised death. Aelin merely sat at the foot of the bed in which Elide laid, sweat pouring down her forehead. She tried to bow, but Aelin was having none of it, using her Alpha command to order Elide to sit and rest.

“How dare you,” Aelin snarled, turning to her mate with livid anger. “Have the audacity to not show up, and flaunt yourself in now?”

Rowan shook his head, and slowly lifted his palms into the air. Elide could have sworn his Adam’s apple bobbed. “This is beyond me.” His eyes cut to Elide, and Manon loose a low growl. “Your mate is dying. Fading away.”

Elide managed to leap off the bed before her ankle collapsed and gave out on her. Aelin wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Manon pacing around Rowan, shielding her from the first threat that was the Prince of Lycans.

“Explain,” Manon commanded, her voice a thin blade of viciousness.

Rowan sighed, a sound that spoke ancient volumes. “Lorcan’s wolf is not taking Elide’s absence well…and believes she’s rejecting him. The fact that Lorcan refuses to lay with a female even for—” Rowan’s face turned to stare at the wall with shame stitched across his eyes “—a means to satiate his wolf’s side—it’s causing his own wolf to reject him. He won’t survive the night if this keeps up.”

Aelin tucked Elide closer to her chest. “I won’t allow her to go near that monster,” she nearly spat out, and glared daggers at her mate, who lifted a brow. “I won’t put one of my pack members in danger.”

Rowan stared at Aelin, an unfathomable look sketched across his face. Something like cold fury spun in those eyes. “Lycans would rather die than hurt their mate.”

The Alpha of the Fireheart pack looked like she wanted to very much disagree, but surprisingly, it was Manon who said, “I think it’s Elide’s decision.”

Elide thought back to her time with Lory, and how he’d so easily seeped happiness into her life. How he’d press his wet nose against her knees and stare up at her, resting his snout on her lap. The way he had made her laugh and made sure she’d eaten every last bite, and encouraged her to go for runs in the woods. He had made her smile. Made her appreciate life. Made her experience joy.

She thought back to the nights when he’d lick away her tears, and lay closer to her side, snuggling against her.

Elide lifted her head, even as she felt searing pain in her neck, and said, “Take me to my mate.”

“I’m going to hold another ball,” Aelin announced to no one in particular as they piled into a black SUV that screamed wealth. “Maybe a masquerade.”

Manon filled the silence by sharpening her nails.

Rowan pulled the car up to a sprawling mansion with silver gates. As they walked across the pristine, cut lawn, Elide marvelled at the honey droplets of morning dew that still drooped from the leaves, the moonlight illuminating the beauty of the greenery that was contained just in the lawn.

The entrance had no door, and Elide supposed it was fitting when it would be suicide to enter the home of the Lycans. Marbled pillars and glass panels filled her vision.

Rowan stalked down the hallways until he faced a door that was halfway open. The last door in the hallway.

Rowan frowned, slightly sniffing the air. “I think—”

Elide willed herself to hold her head high as she slipped through the door.

She didn’t expect to be engulfed in darkness, save for a burning candle lighting the room into a soft, orange glow. She didn’t think that the room would be immaculate, and no dust nor blood would stain the floor. She somewhat expected the lines of swords and daggers hooked onto the walls.

She didn’t expect the outline of women on top of the large male, sprawled across dark sheets. She didn’t expect the guilt written in the eyes of her mate as his head snapped towards her, and his arm to be wrapped around the other female’s hips. She expected the flicker of surprise in that granite-hewn face. She didn’t expect the tang of arousal that permeated the too-clean room, and the beautiful doe-eyed female on Lorcan’s lap to seem strangely sad, her hair cascading down across Lorcan’s bare chest.

Elide took one look at the embrace of her mate and the other female before she fled the room, her own wolf also turning cold and slamming down a wall not even Aelin or Manon could penetrate.

She ignored the howl that shattered the air as she felt her bones shift and crack. She ignored the image of the other female’s legs locked around her mate’s waist. She ignored the voice telling her to go back, to return to her mate.

She embraced the other voice that told her to seek rejection, revenge. The one that saw that doe-eyed female with soft curves with hands around the corded muscle of the Lycan that should have been hers. 

When white paws hit the ground, Elide Lochan felt herself bolt forward, away from her mate. And she did not look back as a series of howls and tearing pierced the dark night.

TLC headcanon

Thorne would definitely have said “your Kainess” to Kaito at least once, earning him eye rolls from everyone, death glares from Scarlet, Wolf and Jacin, and a smack from Cress and Cinder. The only two who didn’t mind were Winter and Kai, who were looking on bemusedly at the crew.

Probably the shortest thing I’ve written in a long time, but I need something to do until tonight…


“I’m not cold." 

Jon sounds like he’s trying to hold in a laugh. "You’re shivering." 

 "I’m not shivering.” She’s shivering. It’s not her fault that no one told her just how cold the North would be. It tears through her cloak like icy knives and she wonders how so many people can stand to live all the way at the top of the world. 

 "Really?“ He still sounds amused. Next to him, Ghost darts into the tree line-she hopes he’s hunting an animal and not a human. The soldiers who accompanied her don’t need any other reasons to be frightened of the strange white wolf. "Are you sure?" 

 "Of course I’m sure.” She’s the Queen, after all, and Tyrion is forever telling her not to be vulnerable-even around Jon, who she’s starting to see is not like everyone else. 

 "I’m sure Sansa can spare a few furs for you. I can have the servants bring them up to your room-“ 

 "I’m fine.” Or, she thinks, he could bring them himself. Preferably at night, when the rest of the castle is asleep… She tries to shut that thought down the second it crosses her mind. They’re here to plan battle strategies, not to do whatever she’s insinuating.

 The wind howls around the ramparts of Winterfell, chilling her to the bone and making her wish she’d thought to bring that cape Tyrion left for her the night before. But Jon is still looking at her strangely so she doesn’t dare let on that she’s cold; she purposefully takes a step forward, even though she’s fairly confident that her eyelids are going to freeze to her face. 

 "Stay still for a moment.“ He moves quickly; with one smooth move he undoes the clasp of the heavy fur cape around his shoulders and places them over hers instead. She lets out a gasp involuntarily as soon as the (welcome) weight settles on her shoulders because it feels so…foreign. Not just the fur itself but the idea of him wearing it. 

 He pauses before he can clasp it shut, with one hand still on her shoulder. "I’m not going to hurt you.” He says it quietly, carefully, as if trying to reassure her-even though he’s the last person she’d expect to hurt her. But another tone enters his voice that gives her pause; it’s slightly embarrassed that she would think that of him, maybe even slightly protective of her? Regardless, it isn’t what she expected from him. But Lord Snow does that a lot these days, whether it’s feeding Ghost off his own plate or the way he knows each of his men by name or how his hand feels on her arm when they go for walks like these on top of the ramparts-in full view of the guards, of course. He’s not what she expected-in fact, he’s not like anyone she’s ever met before. 

 "I know.“ She lets him fit the clasp and the cape settles around her shoulders. She can practically feel the heat radiating off of it, still warm from his body. 

 They stand looking out at the snowy landscape for a few more minutes, and when they go back inside (she’s still wearing his cloak) she hates the snow a little bit less than she did when she went out.

Warm and Wild

My first stab at writing Jon and Dany.  Full of smut and light angst.  Set during the events of Eastwatch. Approx. 1,500 words. Feedback enthusiastically welcome, Considering writing a second installment.


As the expedition beyond the wall prepared to depart from Dragonstone, Daenerys sought something she sorely missed, counsel from Jorah Mormont. After their discussion wandered from Essos to Westeros and Oldtown to Eastwatch, her curiosity turned elsewhere.

“You knew Lord Snow’s father – he was an honorable man?”

“Yes, my queen, and I sense much of Ned Stark in Jon Snow.  And yet, he is not his father.  Stark was all ice and duty, his justice cold like the old Kings of Winter. Snow is warmer and wilder, I wager. Stark was not a man to welcome dragons.”

Daenerys sensed Jorah’s pain at the mention of Ned Stark mingled with his uncertainty about Jon.

“Doubtless, you will learn much more about him on your journey north.” Her voice was steady but she felt as if she were shaking.

Daenerys hesitated.  Everything and more rode on this mission.  The future of the realms of men hung in the balance. But her mind waivered and the dread that froze her was a simple prayer that these two men would come back to her.

Jorah had only just returned and it felt like he had returned from the dead.  Jorah is as much family to me as any man has ever been.

And then there was Jon. She had only known him briefly and his story remained shrouded in mystery, but his rough edges pulled her towards him.  He was a strong ally, but she had made and lost allies before.  He was a wise councilor, but she had more than enough counsel.  He was graceful and handsome, but she had lovers and consorts more willing.  No, he was more than Jorah, Tyrion, Daario, or any man who had pledged her arms or service.

He is a long forgotten song and I am finally remembering the tune, beautiful and sad, raw and sweet.

“Daenerys?” Jorah’s tender voice called her back to the present. “My Queen, was there something else?”

“Take care of each other.  Can a bear befriend a wolf? I dare hope so. For I shall need you both beside me in the wars to come.”


Jon hadn’t dared look back when he boarded the small boat that departed Dragonstone’s haunting shores.  He was a King but if he met the Dragon Queen’s eyes again, he would have revealed he was only a man.

A man who has been alone for too long.

Now, in the black of that evening, Jon stood on the bow of a ship bound for Eastwatch and stared into the inky water, considering the bleak task ahead of him. The wind gusted through his bones, cold as the breath of the ice dragon from Old Nan’s tales.

Jorah Mormont stalked toward him and Jon thought he was the portrait of duty, a man who would bend but not break. Jorah’s intense gaze fell on him and he sighed thoughtfully, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jon bristled. You know nothing Jon Snow.  “She put her trust in me.  You need to trust me as well.  We will not survive the long night if the whole of the seven kingdoms still believes we fight snarks and grumpkins.”

“I meant no offense, but I owe my life to Daenerys Targaryen. I volunteered for this errand to serve her, not to defend my honor. Years ago, I sought exile to escape your lord father’s justice. He was a man who valued honor above all else but, forgive me, honor is no shield in war. If I had half the honor of Ned Stark, I would be long dead and —“

Jon cut him off.  He did not want to think of his dead father, staring down at him through the empty, starless sky.  Ghosts cannot guide me now.

“But here you are.  You have courage enough to venture beyond the wall in winter and face nightmares. Or do you doubt that dead men walk and night king’s army marches on the wall?”

The night is dark and full of terrors.

Jorah breathed deeply and spoke calmly, “I am certain the world is changing. Power is shifting.  I watched Daenerys descend into a blazing pyre and rise unburnt as the Mother of Dragons.  I watched her conquer kingdoms and burn her enemies.  My Queen is the fire that burns against the cold.”

There was little Jon Snow could say to that. “She is indeed.” Jon softened, “Thank you, Mormont. Good night.”  Jorah nodded and turned his eyes toward the sky as Jon walked toward his cabin.

She is the fire that burns against the cold.  Aye, lovely and lethal. This queen was both.

Ygritte was kissed by fire.  Melissandre was the flame itself.  But Daenerys Targaryen was the fire’s master.

Later, as he floated toward sleep, he remembered her riding her dragon. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful.


Tonight, Dragonstone was too quiet and too cold.  As Daenerys lay restless between soft sheets, she wished for a lover to whisper in her ear and warm her bed.

Dreams granted her wish.  There she found her comely lover pressing her against a wall and assailing her with kisses.  At first, his face remained as shadowed as always.  But her senses were full with other pleasures.  The rough grasp of his strong hands on her wrists, her breasts, her waist and finally seeking between her legs while her fingers searched through lush locks of his hair.  She burned with wanting as he planted wild kisses between her thighs. Then, as her lover shifted on top of her, she saw his face.

Jon Snow.

He was bold and magnificent as he swept inside her. She felt he wanted nothing more than to reclaim something that was part of him.  They moved together now, their eyes frozen on each other, discovering the same passion there as the passion pulsing and heating their blood and bodies.  One of Jon’s capable hands held her waist while the other slid back down between her thighs and eased her toward relief.

She was his captive now as her whole body quivered, hair to toenails, shot through with flares of thrills that scorched and bit like frost.

“Jon,” she gasped and she awoke to dragon roars filling the night. Alive and aching, she caressed her breasts, stroked her stomached, and rubbed between her legs, focused on re-living her dream.


Jon’s bed was cold but his dreams were not.

He found himself back in the humid caverns beneath Dragonstone.  As before firelight bathed the chamber’s walls with the echoes of orange and red flames, but this time the fire illuminated a sleeping dragon. Immense breaths and the heat radiating from the beast filled the air.

They’re not beasts to me, they’re my children.

“Drogon,” he queried with a whisper, close enough to touch the dragon’s muzzle.

“What are you waiting for, Jon Snow?”

Suddenly, the shadows danced, firelight swelled, and the dragon vanished.  Daenerys stood before him wearing nothing but the glow of the flames. Jon marveled as light illuminated the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and dimple of her navel. Her silver hair cascaded over her gleaming skin—like the wall weeping beneath rays of summer sun.

Gods…she was stunning. She arched her eyebrows, inviting him.  Jon needed no more encouragement.

He stepped forward, luring her hips toward him with hungry hands. Her fingers marked reckless constellations across his back, her mouth brushed feverish kisses on his bare neck, and shoulders, and ears.  Her indigo eyes ignited then trembled shut as she opened her warm mouth and pressed it to his.  Their tongues embraced in a desperate dance.

When their lips hastily parted, he breathed deeply and drank in the heat of her touch and the delight of her scent. Daenerys rasped a whisper in his ear, “Dragons are fire made flesh, Jon.  Will you melt inside me or explode?”

He dropped to his knees and she shuddered as his tongue explored her moist, smoldering flesh.  His whole body was throbbing in tune with her sweet moans of pleasure.  With her taste filling his mouth, he replied, “ I spent a lifetime surrounded by ice, I need your heat.  I need your touch. I need you wrapped around me.”

Jon pushed her against the glimmering black wall and entered her.  He watched dozens of expressions play across her eager face as her surged through her, harder than the rock that scraped the hands grabbing her graceful back and firm buttocks.  Joy spread through him, warming his body like a deep drink of mulled wine on a frigid night, but he had not found release.

She is fierce and radiant. “Don’t leave me, Jon Snow,” she commanded, “Stay here with me forever.”

The light sputtered out.  Shadows shifted like smoke.  Ygritte’s sleeping face appeared before him, cold and sad.  When she opened her eyes, they were bright blue.

Jon Snow, don’t move now.

I don’t ever want to leave this cave, Jon Snow.  Not ever.

Jon awoke to the harsh sound of thunder and the violent jolts of a winter storm. The air about him was cold, but he was stiff and sweating.  He dared not go back to sleep.  He knew he would not find the comfort of the cave again.

Daenerys Stormborn, they called her.  He dressed and stepped outside into the storm.  The cold engulfed him.  But as lightning flooded the sky, he could swear he saw dragons dancing.

Gʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄs Pʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍs:

  • Adobe PhotoShop CS2
  • ArtRage
  • ArtWeaver
  • DrawPlus
  • FireAlpaca
  • GIMP
  • Inkscape
  • Krita
  • MediBang Paint
  • Mischief Free Version
  • mtPaint
  • MyPaint
  • paint.NET
  • PaintRibbon
  • PaintTool Sai (animation assistant plugin)
  • Picasa 3
  • Pinta
  • Pixia/Phierha
  • Photoscape
  • Photo Editor
  • SmoothDraw
  • Speedy Painter
  • Sumo Paint
  • Twistedbrush (Pixarra)
  • Verve Painter

Links provided by  yeahps

  • Photoshop CS2: download | download | download | download | download
  • Photoshop CS3: download | download | download | download | download
  • Photoshop CS4: download | download | download | download
  • Photoshop CS5: download | download | download | download | download
  • Photoshop CS6: download | download | download | download | download
  • Photoshop CS5 (mac) : download | download
  • Photoshop CS6 (mac): download

3ᴅ Mᴏᴅᴇʟɪɴɢ:

  • Blender 
  • DAZ Studio
  • DesignDoll
  • Fuse
  • Google Sketchup 
  • SculptGL
  • Sculptris 

Wʀɪᴛɪɴɢ Pʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍs:

  • Evernote
  • Gedit
  • Kate
  • NoteTab
  • OpenOffice
  • Quoll Writer
  • ZenWriter
  • A list of various resources
  • Some music for your writing


  • 1001FreeFonts
  • DaFont

Gʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ Rᴇsᴏᴜʀᴄᴇs:

  • thosetutorials tutorials masterpost
  • allieofrph graphic resources masterpost
  • faithsicon masterpost
  • hashtagburnham masterpost
  • poikiliia masterpost
  • rphelper’s graphic resource roundup

Fᴀʙʟᴇs/TWAU RP ɪᴄᴏɴs:

  • Alice Liddell
  • Ambrose Wolf
  • Baba Yaga
  • Baobhan Sith
  • Beast
  • Beauty
  • Bigby Wolf
  • Bloody Mary ♦ ♦
  • Blossom Wolf
  • Bluebeard
  • Briar Rose
  • Bufkin
  • Cindy (Cinderella)
  • Conner Wolf
  • Crooked Man
  • Darien “Dare” Wolf
  • Doctor Swineheart
  • Evil Queen ( from Snow White)
  • Faith ( Allerleirauh )
  • Flycatcher
  • Frau Totenkinder
  • Gren  ♦ ♦
  • Grendel’s Mother
  • Hadeon
  • Hansel
  • Holly  ♦ ♦
  • Ichabod Crane
  • Jack Horner
  • Kelsey Brannigan
  • Knave of Hearts (Wonderland)
  • Lawrence  ( from Allerleirauh )
  • Little Boy Blue
  • Little Red Riding Hood 
  • Mister Dark
  • Mister North Wind
  • Nerissa ♦ ♦
  • Prince Brandish
  • Prince Charming
  • Rapunzel
  • Rose Red  ♦ ♦
  • Snow White
  • Therese Wolf
  • Vivian
  • Winter Wolf ♦ ♦
  • Woody

Dɪsɴᴇʏ RP ɪᴄᴏɴs:

  • Disney Alice Liddell
  • Disney Ariadne
  • Disney Ariel  
  • Disney Aurora/Briar Rose 
  • Disney Beast 
  • Disney Belle 
  • Disney Captain Phoebus
  • Disney Esmeralda
  • Disney Flynn Rider
  • Disney Gaston
  • Disney Maleficent 
  • Disney Mother Gothel
  • Disney Prince Philip
  • Disney Queen Grimhilde
  • Disney Snow White
  • Disney Rapunzel

Tʜᴇ Lᴀsᴛ Uɴɪᴄᴏʀɴ RP ɪᴄᴏɴs:

  • The Last Unicorn : Harpy Celaeno
  • The Last Unicorn : King Haggard
  • The Last Unicorn : Molly Grue
  • The Last Unicorn : Mommy Fortuna
  • The Last Unicorn : Lady Amalthea
  • The Last Unicorn : Prince Lír
  • The Last Unicorn : Schmendrick
  • The Last Unicorn : Unicorn

Fᴀᴄᴇʟᴇss/ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴜsᴇs RP ɪᴄᴏɴs:

  • Other: Crime investigation
  • Other: Locations (urban)
  • Other: Locations (fantasy)
  • Other : Various icons
  • Comics : Alice Liddell
  • Comics : Red Riding Hood

Fᴀɪʀʏ Tᴀʟᴇs ᴀɴᴅ Fᴀʙʟᴇs:

  • A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
  • A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (alt)
  • A Woman Transforms Herself into a Werewolf
  • Aegle
  • Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp
  • Allerleirauh
  • Aunty Greenleaf and the White Deer
  • Baba Yaga
  • Baba Yaga
  • Baba Yaga
  • Bearskin
  • Benzaiten
  • Blodeuwedd
  • Bluebeard
  • Bluebeard’s Ghost
  • Body-without-Soul
  • Boots and the Troll
  • Briar Rose
  • Brynhildr
  • Bunny Man
  • Carmilla
  • Catherine Wheel
  • Charlie No-Face
  • Cinderella
  • Cinderella
  • Clever Hans
  • Counting the stars in Heaven
  • Cu Chulain
  • Death and the Woodsman
  • Der Freischütz
  • East of the Sun and West of the Moon
  • Eglė the Queen of Serpents
  • Elizabeth Báthory
  • Fairy Garden
  • Faithful John
  • Father Frost
  • Feathertop
  • Fenrir
  • Fenrir
  • Georgie Porgie
  • Goatman
  • Gold-Tree and Silver Tree
  • Green Man
  • Grendel
  • Hanako-san
  • Hanzel and Gretel
  • Hayreddin Barbarossa (aka Redbeard)
  • Helga the Fair
  • How the Dragon Was Tricked
  • Hypatia
  • Jabberwocky
  • Jack and the Beanstalk
  • Jack Frost
  • Jack of All Trades
  • Jack O'Lantern
  • Jack the Giant Killer
  • Jack the Cunning Thief
  • Jersey Devil
  • Jorinda and Joringel
  • Knave of Hearts (Wonderland)
  • Krampus
  • La Befana
  • Lamia
  • Lemuria
  • Lilith
  • Linda Branca and her Mask
  • Little Briar Rose
  • Little Jack Horner
  • Little Red Riding Hood (Grimm)
  • Little Red Riding Hood (Perrault)
  • Little Wildrose
  • Loki
  • Loki
  • Lucky Luck
  • Maid Maleen
  • Maria, the Wicked Stepmother, and the Seven Robbers
  • Mirrors
  • Miss North Wind and Mr. Zephyr
  • Myrsina
  • North Wind
  • Okiku
  • Old King Cole
  • Persinette
  • Prince Camaralzaman and the Princess of China
  • Prince Darling
  • Puss In Boots
  • Rapunzel
  • Raud the Strong
  • Reynard and Bruin
  • Reynard Steals Fish
  • Reynard Wants to Taste Horsefresh
  • Rhodopis
  • Rub-a-dub-dub
  • Rumpelstiltzkin
  • Santa Claus
  • Sif
  • Solomon Grundy
  • Snow White
  • Snow-White and Rose-Red
  • Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
  • Snow-White-Fire-Red
  • Song
  • Stingy Jack
  • Sun, Moon, and Talia
  • Sunflowers
  • Tam Lin
  • The Bald Knight
  • The Ballad of Hua Mulan
  • The Bear
  • The Beauty and the Beast
  • The Beauty and the Beast (Villeneuve)
  • The Bell Witch
  • The Boy Who Cried Wolf
  • The Boy Who Cried Wolf
  • The Canary Prince
  • The Cat and the Fox
  • The Caterpillar (Wonderland)
  • The Coyotes’ Curse
  • The Crow
  • The Crystal Casket
  • The Daisy
  • The Death of Koschei the Deathless
  • The Devil’s Mirror
  • The Dog and the Wolf
  • The Dragon of the North
  • The Fairy Serpent
  • The Fatal Marksman
  • The Feather of Finist the Falcon
  • The Fire Bird and Red Fox
  • The Flower Queen’s Daughter
  • The Fox and the Crow
  • The Fox and the Goat
  • The Fox and the Grapes
  • The Fox and the Horse
  • The Frog
  • The Frog Prince
  • The Girl-Fish
  • The Girl Who Pretended to be a Boy
  • The Glass Axe
  • The Golden Bull
  • The Golden-Haired Maiden
  • The Golden Mermaid
  • The Goose-Girl
  • The Green Lady of Newton Castle
  • The Grinning Man
  • The Hare and the Tortoise
  • The Hart and the Vine
  • The Hook / The Hookman
  • The Lazy Magician
  • The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
  • The Lindworm
  • The Little Boy Blue
  • The Little Broomstick
  • The Little Matchgirl
  • The Little Mermaid
  • The Mermaid of Zennor
  • The Mischievous Dog
  • The Nightgale
  • The North Wind and the Sun
  • The Piped Piper
  • The Piped Piper (the real story)
  • The Prince and the Dragon
  • The Prince Who Would Seek Immortality
  • The Princess Who Never Smiled
  • The Scorpion and the Frog
  • The Siren, Lorelei
  • The She-Wolf
  • The Sleeping Beauty in the Woods
  • The Sleeping Prince
  • The Snow Maiden
  • The Snow Man (Sneemanden)
  • The Snow Queen
  • The Story of Lyubim Tsarevich and the Winged Wolf
  • The Story of Pretty Goldilocks
  • The Story of the Girl Who Did Not Like to be Pretty
  • The Story of the Three Bears
  • The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter
  • The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter
  • The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights
  • The Tale of the Nine-Tailed Fox
  • The Tale of Urokohime
  • The Three Army-Surgeons
  • The Three Bears
  • The Three Billy Goats Gruff
  • The Three Little Pigs
  • The Three Princesses of Whiteland
  • The Three Sisters
  • The Twelve Brothers
  • The Twelve Dancing Princesses (Lang)
  • The Twelve Dancing Princesses (Grimm)
  • The Vampyre
  • The Vorpal Blade
  • The Wedding of  Mrs. Fox
  • The Werewolf
  • The Werewolf’s Daughter
  • The Werewolf’s Wife
  • The White Rabbit (Wonderland)
  • The White Serpent and the Children
  • The White Wolf
  • The Wicked Prince
  • The Winged Monkeys (Oz)
  • The Wolf and His Shadow
  • The Wolf and the Crane
  • The Wolf and the Fox
  • The Wolf and the Kid
  • The Wolf and the Man
  • The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids
  • The Wolf and the Shepherds
  • The Wolf Stone
  • The Woman with the Ribbon Around her Neck
  • The Woodsman and the Serpent
  • The Yellow Dwarf
  • The Young Slave
  • There Was A Crooked Man
  • Tiburtine Sibyl
  • Tituba
  • Trusty John
  • Tsarevitch Ivan, the Fire Bird and the Gray Wolf
  • Tweedledum And Tweedledee
  • Tyche
  • Uonaidh
  • Vasilissa the Beautiful
  • Vitoria Regia
  • Vlad the Impaler
  • Vlad the Impaler
  • Water of Youth, Water of Life, and Water of Death
  • Wind
  • Yara
  • Yeh-hsien
  • Yeh-hsien
  • Yuki-onna
  • Yuki-onna
  • ‘Um Pachal

Fᴀʙʟᴇs/TWAU-sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs:

  • Read Fables
  • A Wolf In The Fold
  • Allerleirauh 
  • Allerleirauh Continued
  • Bloody Mary 
  • Boy Blue
  • Boy Blue
  • Briar Rose
  • Briar Rose’s Baptism 
  • Bufkin
  • Cinderella
  • Frau Totenkinder
  • Hanzel and Gretel Continued
  • Hair
  • Jack Frost (or Jack and the Snow Queen)
  • Lamia 
  • Mister Dark
  • North Wind
  • North Wind
  • Prince Charming’s First Love
  • Prose Page
  • Rapunzel Continued
  • Snow White
  • Snow-White and Rose-Red Continued
  • Snow White and the Seven Dwarves 
  • Snow White and the Seven Dwarves Continued
  • Snow-White and Rose-Red Continued II
  • The Big Bad Wolf
  • The Frog Prince Continued
  • The Frog Prince Continued II
  • The Vorpal Blade
  • The Woodsman
  • What was Geppetto Thinking When He Carved Pinocchio’s Mouth?
  • What You Wish For
  • Witching Cloak
  • Essays on Fables/TWAU
  • An Intro to Fabletown
  • Fabletown Map
  • The Farm Map