summary: she was the first force-sensitive member of the disciples of the whills in thousands of years: a gift from the force. at the start of the clone wars, the force revealed a bond between the so-called chosen one and the disciple. it is through this bond that the force intends to restore balance.
author’s note: posted on ao3, this can be a one shot but im continuing the story over there, im also working on a ben solo fic should be up soonish
tags: minor padmé amidala/anakin skywalker, force dyad basically soulmate au, pov third person omni, fictional religion & theology
"I felt something last night," Y/N told Angber, whispering it, almost like a confession. She looked at him with furrowed brows and confusion and fear, "something terrible and cold,"
It struck her during meditation at nightfall. She had been in the temple seeking to soothe her mind. The young woman entered a state of relaxation and peace, floating several feet into the air, imagining herself amongst the stars...when suddenly she felt like she had been shot. There was a sharp pain in her head. Her skull pounded and her heart accelerated. She fell and a coldness spread from her spine. Before she hit the ground, Y/N thought she had died. It took minutes to even out her breathing, and she struggled to sleep.
"A disturbance in the Force," Angber said. Just nineteen years old and already so strong in the Force. It would not be long before Y/N was ready for the Sacred Journey, a rite of passage for Force-sensitives amongst their order (one that had not been performed in over a thousand years). Across the galaxy, she had felt the first deaths of war, "One hundred and seventy Jedi were killed on Geonosis, it is the beginning of another war and more Jedi will fall for the Republic before its end — you will have to understand why," Angber intended to ensure Y/N would be worthy of making an entry into the Journal.
She had accepted death long ago, found peace with it. Angber helped her truly come to terms with it years ago when she was an angry and confused little girl that realized the cruelty of this reality and felt too much pain. In the Force, there is no end. There are only beginnings.
At sunset, she returned to the temple to mourn the Jedi.
The Jedi were peacekeepers, devoted to the light side of the Force. Y/N learned the codes of the Sith and Jedi. She believed everyone had the intrinsic ability to know right from wrong, that the material world was inherently evil, and that there was a purpose to suffering. For those beliefs and many more, she was viewed as a heretic by the Jedi Order. Despite that, they were all connected through the Force, and she felt the absence of those hundred and seventy Jedi.
The Disciples of the Whills worshipped the Force and sought a balance. They were keepers of stories, poems, prayers, and songs thought lost to the Dark Age. As the first Force-sensitive Disciple seen in generations, it would be her sole duty to make an entry into the Journal and elucidate this war; the Whills were an ancient order of beings deeply connected with the Force. They wrote the Journal, which chronicled the history of the Old Republic. They told of long-forgotten names and broken treaties, of the greed and complacency that led to times of darkness and chaos. The Whills sought to explain war and caution future generations. They warned of an imbalance in the Force and spoke beautifully about both sides of the Force. The first words were written by an unidentified Whill:
"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away,"
She was mediating at the end of the pool when she first sensed him. She opened her eyes and saw him standing on the other side of the courtyard. He walked toward the middle of the courtyard as if he belonged, but his attired told Y/N otherwise. She cocked her head in curiosity as the young man in dark robes walked straight into the reflecting pool. She expected him to start shouting and splashing, but instead of falling, he walked above the water. He was halfway through the pool when he raised his head and their eyes met. She thought he was a ghost.
And when Anakin saw a strange figure in red floating at the end of the hall, he thought he was dreaming. He meant to find Obi-Wan, but Anakin had little sleep since Geonosis. His mind was tired, but he could not sleep. He thought perhaps he found rest in the temple on Coruscant, and the figure in red robes and hood was part of another strange and disturbing dream. He had many of them, more since returning from Tatooine. The others had been nightmares. They all felt real and terrifying and cold.
"Hello,"
"....Hello,"
The strange figure in red touched the ground, but there was still some distance between them.
He was in the middle of the reflecting pool. The dusky sunlight reflected on the white tiled ground and made the water look like a mixture of pinks and purples.
She was at the end of the corridor, standing between the two carved arches. Anakin looked at them, tried to focus his eyes on them but his vision failed him. His eyes were unable to focus on anything, and everything surrounding the red figure turned odd and blurry as if his eyes were trying to trick him. It didn't feel real. It felt like a dream. A calming dream with a strange visitor.
"What are you?"
"I am a Disciple," She looked at his side and saw the hilt of a lightsaber. She had never seen a real one before. Her order was a pacifist one and valued knowledge above all. Lightsabers were weapons of the Jedi. Seeking knowledge of the Jedi, Y/N saw lightsabers in old holopads. "You are a Jedi,"
"A disciple of who?" The faint smile on his lips faded as he neared the red figure. Anakin sensed the Force. It swirled around them like a hurricane. Powerful and wild. Though her face was obscured with a piece of red opaque fabric, Anakin could make out their eyes. Beautiful, alluring, and dark.
"I am a Disciple of the Whills, the Jedi would not teach our story," She said, nearly removing her covering. She sensed the Force was strong in the boy. The Force had brought them together, she was certain, so she kept her covering. Force-sensitive Disciples would cover their faces when reaching into the Force and manipulating It, "I sensed the slaughter on Geonosis," She told him.
"Are you a Separatist? A Sith?"
"No, I am a Disciple of the Whills," She looked at him, studied the color of his eyes, and saw a mantle of destiny cloaking the young boy. He was strong in the Force, yes. "Our destinies are intertwined," She said it so plainly, so surely.
Anakin nearly believed her. She was something warm and familiar, "Why?"
The question made her smile. Why? "Because the Force wills it,"
"Great, an ancient dream shaman that only speaks in riddles," Anakin shook his head and sighed, "I know a master you would get along with,"
"Ancient?" She repeated, taking offense. "I-I...I am not ancient, and I don't think this is a dream, tailhead," She reached for his Padawan braid, and Anakin pushed her arm away.
He touched her, briefly, but it was enough to confirm she was real, something solid and tangible.
"Okay, I'm less convinced this is a dream,"
"I think it is because of the war," She theorized, "the Force seeks balance, and this war will bring great suffering, so It connected us,"
"To end the war? To save the Republic? Why? How?"
"I don't know, not yet," She sighed, "I fear this war will be long, but the Force will find balance...somehow," She had not yet gone on her pilgrimage and still had much to learn, "I'm meant to leave the Cold Moon, voyage across the galaxy, and gain a deeper understanding of the Force before returning to the Kyber temple, maybe then answers will be revealed," Since she was a child, Y/N understood she would one day leave Jedha. The idea terrified her, but when the Force revealed their bond, her fears faded.
She didn't need to know why the Force brought them together, but it was clear he did.
"Kyber temple? Is that where you are?" Anakin had never heard of it.
"Yes," she had no reason to lie, "On Jedha,"
"And how will you gain a deeper understanding?"
"Well," Nearing her eighteenth birthday, Y/N showed she was ready to begin plotting the destinations of her pilgrimage. She was to decipher the path she was to take, scouring the writings of the Whills and seeking regions where the Force was strong. "There are these...these vergences hidden away, where, at their center, the Force is fierce and free and pure,"
"Where are these places?"
"I cannot say, this silence is part of my order," She tried to explain. She wanted him to understand, "the Jedi construct lightsabers and become 'Masters' in the Force, we take a pilgrimage and listen to the will of the Force," She was to find four of the points and prepare diligently. She learned histories and understood the cultures of several regions throughout the galaxy. As a Disciple, she could not wield a weapon and would have to rely on the Force.
"Something sad lingers in your heart," She said, almost instinctively reaching out for him once more. He felt warm and familiar, "what happened?"
"Didn't you hear?" He moved his face away from her hand, "there's a war going on,"
"No," There is more.
"My mom died, I couldn't save her,"
"I'm sorry," She meant it, "losing someone you love...it can leave you angry," she had been angry when her brother died. In her anger, she tainted a cave far beyond the holy city, and the memory physically sickened her. She could not speak of it without crying, not yet.
"Jedi can't feel anger, they have to be above that," He had to be above such emotions, but he failed.
"I'm sure the Jedi doctrine doesn't call for the total suppression of emotions,"
"There is no emotion, there is peace," Anakin regurgitated the Jedi Code. He had long memorized the words, but he struggled with living by them.
And Y/N sensed it, "Perhaps they mean finding peace with your emotions, not letting them control you,"
"It's hard,"
"Yes," She knew that too well, "and we will stumble, but life is about trying to be better,"
Anakin was dumbstruck by her words and there was a few seconds of silence as he stared at the Disciple. Seeing Y/N for the first time made him realize he had been incomplete. He looked at her and suddenly didn't feel alone. She was kind and understanding, yet a shadow lingered around her. It was clear to him that she was not Sith. She was something warm and familiar.
"My mother died a few hours after I was born," but that was not a painful memory, because "But in the Force, there is no end. There are only beginnings," She experienced death at an early age, and Angber helped her understand death as their order understood it. "I hope you can rest one day, knowing your mother's spirit is now free,"
"Thank you," Anakin didn't fully understand their bond at the time. She was a complete stranger, but it felt as if they've known each other since the beginning of time. He didn't know why the Force had connected them. He didn't know what the Force expected of them. How can they end the war? "I...I have to tell my master about this,"
"I would prefer if you didn't," She asked him to lie.
"Why?"
"Because I'm afraid of what the council will do," She replied. "They tried to take me away when I was a baby, if they learned of a dyad...what if they try to stop me from completing the pilgrimage?" She knew so much about the Force — studied Its histories from across the galaxy and learned how to manipulate It, all in preparation for the Sacred Journey. She also knew of the Jedi's close relationship with the Republic and how the Republic used the Jedi. Y/N feared they would corrupt the dyad and use it as a weapon.
"What's a dyad?" Anakin asked.
"It's a rare and powerful type of Force-bond," It was unlike a bond created between a master and apprentice. The Whills believed it was an innate connection between two Force-sensitive beings, a bond forged by the Force Itself. "Some think the Force created a single spirit and doomed them to live in separate bodies, others think it's a warning,"
"A warning? A warning for what? This war?" What does It want from us?
"I don't know," That was not the answer he was looking for. "I've only read of a dyad in the Force happening once before, thousands of years ago...between two fallen Jedi," She faintly remembered the details of the dyad. There was a war against the Mandalorians and another war following that one. The Force had been in great imbalance and so followed a Dark Age. "I can't remember why they fell, I'm sorry,"
Y/N knew her request to keep their bond a secret would cause him turmoil. He was already full of conflict and questions, and she couldn't answer them all.
"Tell your master if you need," She then told him. "I trust you," Utterly. The Force had bonded them, and her faith was unyielding. She knew little of the padawan before her and saw the darkness in him, but she knew he would do the right thing. If that was to inform the Jedi of the dyad, then so be it.
And he knew she meant it. Fully. Completely. Just a few seconds ago she had been terrified at the idea of being unable to complete her pilgrimage. He had felt her fear rushing through his body, but that quickly faded.
I trust you.
Anakin then thought of Padmé and the hesitation she felt when accepting his proposal. It lingered in his head and ate at his soul, those seconds of silence...why had she hesitated? It annoyed him, made him resentful toward Padmé, which he later hated himself for feeling. Another reason why sleep continued to evade him.
Anakin looked to the Disciple. He was confused with their connection and wanted answers — answers he knew the council would not have or give. Fallen Jedi. Could he trust the stranger in red as fully as she trusted him? He knew their bond would terrify the council, yet he never feared it. He only feared it would be taken away. She was something warm and familiar.
The bond the Force had forged between him and the Disciple is one the Jedi's code would condemn. He knew it, felt it. An odd light surrounded her, the council would describe it as tainted, but Anakin saw its power, its beauty. Anakin could see a great void in her soul. Did she see the same? Yes, I can trust her.
Before he could swear to her that he would not tell his master of their bond, she disappeared.
"Hello?" Anakin called out.
"Hello there," Obi-wan replied as he turned into the corridor. "What are you doing up here so late?"
"I was looking for you,"
"Well, you've found me," His master smiled, "How can I help?"
"Oh, I just need to find information about a planet — a moon," Anakin replied, "Jedha,"
The council assigned Obi-Wan and Anakin a mission on Cato Neimoidia. They were to leave at the end of the week. Padmé and Anakin planned to marry on Naboo before then. He would take a short visit to Naboo and meet Padmé on Varykino, but he was not entirely ready for it. When the time came for Anakin to leave and marry the woman he had obsessed over for ten years, he stayed in the temple on Coruscant. He had too many questions, too many doubts.
In the Archives, he found very little about the Disciple of the Whills and nothing about dyads or vergences.
Anakin locked himself away and desperately tried to see the stranger in red again. So he mediated. He mediated and mediated, but nothing. He retreated to find the stranger in his head and began to fear that she had been a dream. What a cruel joke that would have been, to finally feel understood by someone only to learn his mind conjured them.
And before Anakin left for Cato Neimoidia, Master Yoda visited him.
"Been interested in Jedha, you have,"
"It's an interesting place," Anakin would not speak of his bond with the stranger in red.
"Is it, hmm? Yes, hmmm,"
"There are Force worshippers there and an ancient temple I thought was interesting," It was not a complete lie. He simply withheld the entire truth.
"Made from kyber, yes some say it was,"
"Have you ever been to Jedha, Master Yoda?"
"Once, long time ago," Yoda admitted, "sent to retrieve a child, I was," Just three years old and already calling out through the Force. They would have been his last apprentice. Part of him mourns the great Jedi that child could have become had he taken them from the Cold Moon, a place full of misery and suffering.
"Did you bring them back?" Anakin knew the answer.
"No,"
"Why?"
"Mother's dying wish," Yoda told Anakin, "They begged," Yoda remembered, "to keep the child," Angber told Yoda, and the members of the dying order begged too. They begged and prayed and wept. The elders explained it to him, as best as they could.
The child was a gift from the Force. Their order, once rivaling the influence of Jedi, did not seek out Force sensitives. Their ideology regarding balance prevented them from doing so. They believed it was the will of the Force that brought Force-wielders to their order. For over a thousand years they have waited, and then the child was born of no father...
It was clear to Yoda then that the child was to remain on Jedha. Many in the council thought that to raise a Force-sensitive with the philosophy of the Disciples was unsafe and impious, and for that reason, Yoda did not tell them of the child's parentage. He tried not to think about them, but that became difficult when Qui-gon returned with Anakin, another child born of no father...
When Anakin went to sleep, he thought of her and knew he would see her again.
summary: chaos consumes the capital as dorne plans an assault on the reach. the young wolf is named king of the trident, and armies begin marching on highgarden. on the bright side, wedding bells will soon be heard throughout westeros.
author’s note: [ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹] the plot thickens (〇_ｏ) sorry this took so long i’ve been moving back to campus and classes are starting :/ plus it takes me a while to write a plot that fits into the world so lmk if y’all like it!! if i make a third part best believe dany will be showing up
tags: description of reader (vague dornish features), westerosi politics, pain
When the Mountain’s head arrived at Sunspear, the high lords and ladies of Westeros understood Robb Stark was not a man to be trifled with. His army had captured Lord Tywin's mad dog in the riverlands, the king beheaded him, and now Gregor Clegane’s monstrous head is mounted at the gates of the Old Palace. You invade the Reach with twenty-thousand soldiers and meet with Lord Tarly.
“Dorne supports Robb Stark’s claim to the North. He has no desire to sit on the Iron Throne. The Lannisters are treacherous bastards that killed his father and now hold his sisters as hostages in the capital. Robb Stark wants justice,”
“Robb Stark was seen marching north,” Lord Tarly attempts to portray Robb’s choice to take his army to the riverlands as weak, and it angers you.
“Robb Stark retreated to defend the riverlands against the Lannisters,” You snip and narrow your eyes. “They set the country on fire, and he chose to send his army and help the river lords,” Because he’s a good man. A good king.
“And what do you want? Why have you brought an army into my country? To set it ablaze?” He’s hostile. It is to be expected, when a force of twenty-thousand Dornishmen appear at your castle.
“I want to see the rightful heir take the throne, and I want Tywin Lannister’s head on a spike,”
“Did you ask the Young Wolf for the Mountain’s head?” Randyll Tarly can be more useful alive than dead, all you need to do is convince him to break his oath to the Lannisters. With Robb killing Gregor Clegane, you have quite a bit of leverage.
“No, I told him what the Mountain did to my aunt. How he murdered her children and raped her with their blood on his hands, and then that ugly head showed up. I’m sure Tywin Lannister’s head will come soon enough,” Robb has yet to lose a battle. Lord Tarly must know that.
“Princess Elia was a good woman. What the Mountain did to her is sickening, unspeakable, something only a beast could commit,”
“And what of the beast’s master?” You ask. If he is so morally repulsed with the Mountain’s actions, will he break his oaths with the Tyrells and the Crown? “Tywin gave Clegane the order to kill your crowned princess and her children, and now he sits on the Iron Throne,”
“Joffrey is king,”
“Joffrey is a bastard boy with no sense of true power,” You scoff.
“You support Stannis?”
“No,” Stannis would not be a good king. No. In your mind, only a Targaryen could ever sit on the Iron Throne. “I would see Daenerys Targaryen take the throne. It is her right by name, and when her dragons are grown, Westeros will be hers by conquest,”
Daenerys has recently obtained eight thousand Unsullied, and your uncle wants to send your father to escort her to Westeros.
“So it is true,” Lord Tarly looks to the floor. “The Targaryen has three dragons,” He states. With them, she killed the slave masters and sacked Astapor. Reports say her dragons are now the sizes of small dogs, and they keep growing.
“The same as Aegon when he conquered the six kingdoms,” You remind Lord Tarly. “You remained loyal to House Targaryen during the Rebellion, the only man to give the Usurper a defeat. Your honor is unquestionable, Lord Tarly,”
“What do you want from me?” The old man sees right through your flattery.
“You are one of the finest battle commanders in Westeros,” You tell him, continuing with flattery. “Daenerys Targaryen has Ser Barristan Selmy guiding her, but she will need more advisors like you,” No one would ever question Barristan Selmy’s honor, and if he supports the dragon queen, more will flock to her. “A Targaryen will sit on throne again, and the Reach will need a need a new, loyal Warden of the South,”
“How may I serve?” He asks.
“Help me take Highgarden in the name of Daenerys Targaryen and vow to destroy her enemies,” You’ve never met the girl and she has no idea you exist, but here you are, leading a war in her name, leading your uncle’s war. “Tywin Lannister will not survive this war, but you can. Your family can,”
And so Horn Hill breaks faith with House Tyrell, Joffrey the Illborn, and Old Lion on the Iron Throne.
A raven comes in the night with news of your success. Robb smiles as he reads your writing. He rolls the parchment and puts it with your other letters. In the months since his departure from Dorn, Robb has kept close correspondence with you. You now hold dozens of his letters, many in which Robb stopped short of admitting his love for you.
“What’s got you all melancholy, Stark?” Theon teases as he enters the private chambers.
“Y/N has claimed Horn Hill, and Lord Tarly has turned against the Tyrells,” Robb tells Theon. “They ride for Highgarden,”
“That’s a good thing,” Theon states.
“Yes,” Robb replies. He supposes. Though, he wonders how you took Horn Hill from an experienced and narrow minded man like Randyll Tarly. Had you met him in battle? Were you wounded? Had you convinced the old man to turn against the Crown?
“But?”
“I want to see her again,” Robb admits. He misses your Dornish drawl. The way you say his name. Your playful little smile. The way your eyes shine.
“So do it,” Theon smiles. “Demand she meet you here at Riverrun,”
“It’s not that simple,”
Robb looks at the war map on the table and moves the sun piece representing Dorne on the war map to Horn Hill — Horn Hill and Highgarden are close in proximity and the vast of the Tyrell army went to King’s Landing to help defeat the Baratheon army. Perhaps you’ve already taken Highgarden.
No one expected Dorne to turn against the Crown and attack the Reach. The Tyrell army rode with Tywin Lannister to King’s Landing, and they’ve remained there ever since, but that won’t last long. Not when news reaches the capital.
“I could go to her,” Again.
Robb smiles; he would help you keep the Reach and meets with his generals in the morning to discuss Dorne’s invasion. “My lords, the princess of Dorne has taken Horn Hill. She and Lord Tarly move on Highgarden as we speak,”
His generals are elated at the news.
When he returned with forty thousand Dornish soldiers, there was a tide in the war and his army was reinvigorated. With the Dornish aid, Robb helped his uncle reclaim the riverlands, and the riverlords named him king.
“But for now I ride to the Crag. I will take forty thousand men to Highgarden to help our southron allies take the Reach,”
“And what about Casterly Rock?” Lord Umber questions. They’ve already made plans to assault the seat of House Lannister.
“Tywin Lannister isn’t at Casterly Rock. The castle means nothing to me. The Reach, with all its food and wealth, means everything to him,” Robb explains. He’s certain Tywin will move to take Highgarden.
“They’re still burning our lands,” His uncle the Blackfish states, weary about Robb’s decision to abandon the riverlands and help a southern princess take the Reach.
“That is why I’m leaving ten thousand men in your command, Blackfish,” Robb replies. A seasoned warrior, a veteran of half a hundred battles, he trusts his uncle to protect his kingdom while he rides south to you defeat Tywin Lannister.
And Robb feels the cool sea breeze before news hits the capital of Dornish forces in the mountains bordering the Reach.
Highgarden falls within a fortnight, and the citizens of Highgarden are gathered to hear Randyll Tarly claim the castle in the name of Daenerys Targaryen.
After implementing order within the castle, ravens were sent out to inform the other lords of the Reach of Highgarden’s fall and news reached the capital. You write to your uncle, informing him of the developments and asking if he had sent your father east.
You expected the Lannister and Tyrell armies to mobilize after the royal wedding, now in three days, but Dickon informs you of a scout’s recent reports.
"My princess,” Dickon Tarly unnecessarily kneels after entering the war room. “A Lannister host was spotted on the Gold Road. Some twenty-thousand men,”
If Tywin was sending an army to take back Highgarden, they would be traveling on the Roseroad. You expected Tywin to move on Highgarden, so you’re disappointed with Dickon’s news. You’ve sent a small host, some five thousand men, to claim houses east of Highgarden and ready the castles.
“There is still no word on the Tyrell army, princess,” Dickon adds.
“We should take a vast host north and take Goldengrove,” You think of sending Dickon to command the capture of Goldengrove. He is a good fighter, and the son of a respected lord. House Rowan would bend easier if a Tarly was to ride north.
And then Maester Lomys enters the war room to inform you that the King in the North is in the Great Hall, asking for the princess of Dorne.
In the Great Hall, you lay eyes on the stocky, ocean eyed, and auburn haired northman. He looks at you and smiles, making you weak to your knees. He looks so regal. His hair has grown, more red-brown curls decorate his head like a crown. You can see the blood still on his breastplate. The Young Wolf smells of war.
“You were in the riverlands,” You’re shocked to see him. It’s to be expected. Since his landing at Crakehall, Robb has led his army south to Highgarden, easily taking Red Lake and Goldengrove.
“I was,” Robb grins. “And now I’m here,” For you, his eyes tell you.
Your dark eyes pull him closer, and he finds himself entranced all over again. You’re wearing armor now, and your raven hair is now braided in intricate braids that are decorated in small gold metal cuffs. You’re striking, and your obsidian eyes could stop a man’s heart. Robb is sure of it.
“Have you missed us?” Theon asks.
“You? Oh, so, so, so much,” You say with clear sarcasm and the smile on Theon’s face drops, making you laugh, oh and how wonderful a sound that is. Robb smiles again; his heart fills with joy.
“Red Lake and Goldengrove are yours,” Robb proclaims.
You look confused. Your eyes narrow and brows stitch together as your pretty lips part, “I don’t understand,”
“Robb claimed everything north of Highgarden in your name,” Theon repeats.
For Daenerys, you think to yourself. The Reach is for Daenerys.
“Thank you for coming to our aid, Your Grace,” You say it so formly. So...detached. “We expect assaults from the northern mountains and the Rose Road,” You inform him of the military situation.
That is when Robb sees the two men standing behind you.
“Your Grace, we had not expected you,” Lord Tarly states. He extends his arm, “It is an honor to meet the man that sent Tywin Lannister running,” They shake hands.
“When riding to Highgarden, we saw troops marching east,” Robb notes.
“The princess has ordered captains to ride and prepare Cider Hall, Longtable, and Bitterbridge,” Dickon informs the king. “Your Grace,” He quickly adds and bows before Robb.
“A sharp tactic, princess,” Robb compliments your aptitude, grinning ear to ear at your recent accomplishments on the southron front. Within half a year you’ve mobilized an army through Dorne and took Highgarden from Tywin Lannister. Joffrey may marry Margaery Tyrell, but it means nothing so long as you hold the Reach.
Lord Tarly takes them to the war room, and you reveal to Robb your plans to defend the Reach against the Lannister-Tyrell army. Robb has never met a woman as brave, strong-willed and intuitive as you. You would make a good queen, he thinks.
The following night, Robb asks a Dornish soldier to take him to your room, desperate to see you in a setting you weren’t preparing for battle. When the sun rises in the morning, you’re expected to ride for the mountains with Lord Tarly’s son and a host of forty-thousand; Robb will march east with Lord Tarly.
“Fuck off,” He faintly heard through the door after knocking twice, and he chuckles.
“That’s no way to speak to a king,” Robb says to the door.
Within seconds the door is opened, and he sees you.
“You shouldn’t be here,”
“I wanted to see you before you left,” Robb admits. He sailed and rode for weeks to see your smile again, and now he wants to be at your side for as long as possible. He wanted to feel peace, and now Robb knows he can only achieve that with you in his arms.
Even while you were readying for war, he felt safe. He felt reassurance that this war would be won. He felt a calmness makes him terrified of losing you. He felt love.
But now you can’t even look him in the eye, always avoiding his glance. You hug yourself, indirectly pushing your breasts up, and Robb glances at the low neckline of your brown-gold silk nightgown.
He quickly looks away and clears his throat. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t mean to offend. Apologies, princess,” Robb almost turns away, embarrassed with your rejection.
When he turns his head, Robb sees Lord Tarly approaching, and his blood runs cold. Visiting you so late in the night was a stupid idea, Robb thinks to himself. Stupid and selfish. To Lord Tarly, it may appear you invited Robb to your private chambers, and Robb feels a pit in his stomach at the thought of tarnishing your honor.
"Lord Tarly, we-” Robb was ready to explain, but the concerned look in Randyll’s face stopped him. “What’s happened?” The continent is at war, a many number of things could have made Lord Tarly white with fear. Stannis Baratheon could have taken the capital.
“We’ve received a letter from the Vale,” Randyll informs the king and princess.
They are convinced in the war room.
“Lady Arryn plans to marry Petyr Baelish soon after the royal wedding,” Lord Tarly reveals to the small war council.
"The Vale borders the entirety of the riverlands. If they join the war and support the Lannisters, they’ll attack your kingdoms,” You look at Robb, concern now in your eyes.
“She’s your aunt,” Theon comments. “She wouldn’t hurt her family,” The young boy assumes.
“My mother says she’s not the woman she once was,” Robb shakes his head.
“Then we should assume Baelish will pull the Vale into the fold, and the Knights of the Vale will fight for the Crown,” Randyll says. “I suggest we advance the wedding, princess,”
“And just when would the wedding take place?” You ask, displeased with Lord Tarly’s request and angered he would speak of it in front of Robb. “Now? Hours before we ride for war?" You scoff. You can’t even look at Robb, afraid of facing the wave of sadness in his baby-blue eyes.
“My princess, it-”
“I will hear no more of this,” You bite, angered with the Tarlys. “You’ll have the marriage you want when the war is won,” That was the agreement. Lord Tarly would break faith with the Crown and the Tyrells, but only if they would be given Highgarden and a suitable marriage; and a marriage with a princess of Dorne would ensure the Tarlys remained loyal to the Targaryen queen.
“Why are you marrying Dickon Tarly? Why now?” Robb knows why. He understands. Though, his understandment does not make you marrying another man any easier.
“I don’t love him,” You proclaim. I love you. “I could never love him,” Because I love you. “Our engagement is purely political, to cement the alliance between the Reach and Dorne. If I marry him now, the Tarlys will gain more legitimacy as lords of Highgarden,”
Robb sighs, “Walder Frey expects me to marry one of his daughters when the war is over,” He tells you, and you can’t even be angry with Robb’s withholding of his engagement. You only feel heartache, knowing your oaths and vows must be kept if the war is to be a success.
“But I don’t love her,” Whomever she may be. “You are the light of my world. I look at you, and I know that I would-” break my vows, Robb meant to say. He meant to declare his love for you, but he is stopped with a kiss.
He feels your soft and full lips on his and your slick tongue in his mouth, and Robb kisses you back with the hungry desperation of a man in a desert, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his right arm around your waist.
You hold his face and pull away from the kiss, studying the look on Robb’s face. The boy is utterly in love with you, and you with him.
“War is an inconvenient time to be in love,” You whisper, pulling your body away from Robb’s hold. He lets you go. Despite the passion and lust you feel for the northman, you can never act upon it. That kiss will be all you have. You will keep your word to the Tarlys, as unhappy as it makes you.
Robb half-believed you were ready to throw away your promise to Lord Tarly and run away with him, but he knows that is not the woman you are. As fierce and strange as you are, you are a princess: proud, honest, and true.
And he is a king. It is expected he keep his oath to Lord Frey.
Four years Robb has been fighting, chasing Tywin Lannister’s army, winning every battle, but Sansa and Arya are still captives. He just wants his family to be whole again. He just wants to go home. He wants to be yours.
Before Robb met you, he saw no end to this war, but you gave him hope. Robb sees saw you by his side, your hands in his and taking vows before a weirwood tree.
“I’m tired,” he sighs, sitting at the edge of the bed, “and it’s awfully difficult to see a happy ending if you are not beside me,” He confesses, looking up at you, dejected.
Your eyes soften.
“I may never be your wife,” your words stab his heart, “but I will always be at your side,”
“Lying is not very princessly,” Why did you kiss him? Why would you give him a single second of serenity before ripping it away entirely? How could you be so cruel? When he is old and blind and can no longer walk, he’ll still remember the feel of your lips on his. The ghost of your lips will forever haunt him.
Though Robb could never find it in his heart to hate you, he tears his eyes away from you, unable to bear seeing you in a wedding gown meant for another. It physically pains him that, within a few short minutes, you’ll be bound to another.
Robb feels sick.
Marriage isn’t for love, it’s political, your uncle told you. So, when you envisioned your wedding, you held no expectations that you would ever marry someone you loved. All that you wanted was to be dressed in traditional Dornish garments, to be wed wearing the colors and symbols of your country.
Instead, here you stand, in a foreign country dressed in unpleasant clothes and jewelry, deeply and unequivocally in love with Robb Stark, yet destined for a political marriage.
You feel sick.
“Princess,” Lord Tarly calls for you. You turn and see him standing at the doorway of the chambers, donning his battle armor with a cape of his house colors. “It is time,”
You’ve never felt such dread before.
You look to Robb once more, memorizing the shade of his eyes and the way his curls frame his face. “I love you,” You confess in a whisper. “My vows to Tarly will mean nothing because I am yours, until my dying breath, I am yours,” Your declaration breaks Robb’s heart in two, because you won’t be cloaked in the sigil of a direwolf and he won’t wear your house colors. His heart shatters because you’ll never embrace as husband and wife.
So, Robb rides for Cider Hall before the small wedding ceremony takes place, lacking the strength to witness the woman he loves pledge herself to another.
Omg I just read for a moment 😭 you should definitely do a part 2. Your work is amazing 🤩
i will , i promise!!! im working on it rn but it might take a lil bit before im done since im starting a new job and moving back to campus soon but there will definitely be a second part!! ❤️🔥❤️🔥
summary: devoted supporter of stannis baratheon, follower of r’hllor, and jon’s childhood friend, y/n dayne finds herself at castle black. when stannis goes to win the mountain clans to his side, he leaves y/n and melisandre, and the red woman has y/n seduce jon.
author’s note: game of thrones rewatch continues sooo what if....lightbringer was a person?? word count is ~9k ,, it’s an updated jon fic i had that takes place over season 5 kinda like a fix-it reader-insert w/ some excerpts from adwd bc fuck d&d,,,more got fics will be coming up!! requests are open :)
tags: free folk prejudice, minor robb x reader, religious themes, so much plot and build up oh my god??, smut if you squint, westerosi politics, typical got violence
The Lady Melisandre says that death marches on the Wall; that the Long Night is coming and only the prince who was promised can defeat the darkness. So, with an urging letter from Castle Black, the king sets sail for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. To the five kings, the King-beyond-the Wall comes south. He leads a vast host of wildlings. All you could think of was Jon. If he survived the attack at Haunted Forest, if the wildlings had attacked the Wall, if he survived such an assault, if he still-
And then the king orders you ride with the vanguard.
WITH the blaring sounds of trumpets and rhythmic pounding of drums, the king’s army marches on Mance Rayder’s camp of savages.
Grey Wind runs beside you, and Moon Dancer races into the woods, following the formation of Stannis’s army. The cavalry, some three thousand men with steel armor on good horses, rapidly charge into the woods. It must be a terrifying sight for the wildlings to behold.
There’s a smile on your lips as you cut down wildlings, Dawn in hand. The great direwolf at your side growls before tearing into the neck of a wildling. Blood drips from your sword’s blade and blood leaks from Grey Wind’s mouth. Even Moon Dancer’s pale cream coat is splattered with savage blood.
Facing an imposing force, superior strategy, and an effective commander, Mance orders his savages to drop their sticks.
A wildling, dumb as they all are, runs toward the king as he walks toward Mance, screaming with an ax in hand. You ride fast and cut through the wildling before it could reach Stannis. Grey Wind bites into the stomach of the wildling and drags the corpse away.
Sheathing Dawn, Moon Dancer turns back. You ride past the smoke to Stannis and Ser Davos. Your stomach drops, because there he stands, the bastard boy that broke your heart years ago by running to the Night’s Watch.
He looks different. Older. Tired. There was always a bit of sadness in his eyes, but now...he doesn’t look like a boy anymore. Though his stature remains that of one, you ghostly smile. Ever so pretty.
Mance pulls out two blades, and you tear your eyes away from Jon Snow. Quick to protect your king, your hand readies to draw Dawn. But, to your surprise, the Wildling King tosses his blades to the ground.
“You’re the King-Beyond-the-Wall?” Stannis asks.
Mance nods.
“Do you know who I am?” Stannis questions.
“Never had the pleasure,” Mance replies.
“This is Stannis of House Baratheon,” You announce. “the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms, Azor Ahai reborn, the Prince that was Promised,”
“You’re not in the Seven Kingdoms,” Mance states. “And you’re not dressed for this weather,” He adds.
“It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a King,” Stannis informs the Wildling.
“We do not kneel,” Mance asserts.
“I’ll have thousands of your men in chains by nightfall, nowhere to put them, nothing to feed them. I’m not here to slaughter beat dogs. Their fate depends on their King,”
“All the same, we do not kneel,”
“Take these men away.” Stannis orders.
“What are the men of the Night’s Watch doing in a Wildling camp?” Ser Davos looks to Jon with suspicion.
When Jon sees you riding with the army, he forgets how to breathe. You, just as beautiful as the day he saw you last; at the split between the Kingsroad and the Wall, riding south to King’s Landing with his father. You, now in knight’s armor with a great sword in hand, drenched in the blood of free folk.
“I was sent to discuss terms with the King-beyond-the Wall,” Jon replies, withholding the full truth.
“You are speaking to the one true King, boy,” The man beside King Stannis says. “You will address him as Your Grace,”
“I know he’s the King. My father died for him,” Jon states.
“Your Grace, this is Ned Stark’s son,” You speak to Stannis. “Jon Snow,”
“Your father was an honorable man,” Stannis turns to Jon.
“He was, Your Grace,” Jon addresses Stannis, but he looks at you.
He can’t take his eyes off of you. Blood decorates your armor and paints your face. You certainly weren’t a little girl anymore. There is something in the way you stand...in the way you speak...
He can’t begin to imagine the things you’ve survived.
“What do you think he would have done with him?”
“I was this man’s prisoner once. He could have tortured me. He could have killed me, but he spared my life. I think my father would have taken him prisoner; listened to what he had to say,”
"Very well then,” Stannis listens to Jon’s advice. “Take him away,” Stannis refrains from executing Mance Rayder.
“Your Grace. If my father had seen the things that I’ve seen he’d also tell you to burn the dead before nightfall. All of them,”
“Y/N, take Lord Snow to Castle Black,” Stannis orders you. You nod in compliance. Instantly, Jon recognizes a sort of bond between you and the king. “We’ll be setting camp,” He walks to his horse and mounts it.
Jon looks at your scabbard, a star decorates the hilt of your sword.
“Is that your father’s sword?”
It’s said that sword was forged from the heart of a fallen star. During the many nights you both would spend in the Wolfswood, you told him that. You told him the blade was pale as milkglass and sharp as Valyrian steel, though Jon has only seen Dawn’s blade bloodsoaked.
He remembers those nights. He’s missed them — just being with you underneath the moon, sharing secrets and laughs and dreams. All that, now a lifetime away.
“Aye,” You nod, your hand moving closer to Dawn’s hilt. “Do you like it?” You ask him, a grin on your lips.
“I’m surprised you can swing a sword like that,” Jon jests.
Your smile instantly drops and brows pull closer together, unamused with Jon’s remark. “I’ll leave you in these woods, Snow, I will,” You tease him, and Jon smiles as your empty threat. “Get on, before I change my mind,” You order.
He mounts your horse, though refrains from placing his hands on your body.
You kick your horse, and she trots forward.
With the swift movement, Jon nearly falls off the horse, but he grips your hips and wraps his arms around your waist. You laugh. “Hold tight now,” You warn him, and Jon can hear a hint of your Dornish drawl. “Wouldn’t want you to fall on your pretty face,” And he smiles.
THE grounds of Castle Black are littered with dead men.
A great battle took place the night before, Jon explained. With just one hundred men, brothers of the Night’s Watch defended the Wall against some hundred thousand wildlings. Now the brothers collect the dead.
In the east courtyard, Grey Wind and Ghost growl at each other, tackling each other to the snowy grounds. Grey Wind is larger than Ghost. His dark smoke grey fur is rich and thick, optimal for the coming winter, and his eyes glow yellow.
“I’ve never seen that great beast so jovial,” Stannis remarks, approaching you watching the wolves fight.
“They’re brothers,” You tell the king. “Part of a litter whose mother was killed by a stag,”
“How prophetic,” Stannis says jeeringly.
“Tragic foreshadowing, scholars would call it,” You turn to look to the king. “Will the Lord Commander be providing roof for the king’s men?” You ask, wondering if you’ll be sleeping close to Jon once again. Hoping.
“They haven’t chosen a new Lord Commander. The acting Lord Commander has offered beds,”
“Well, only a fool would refuse the king,” You say. “And I suppose room did just open up,” You look to the corpse not too far from Ghost and Grey Wind; it’s green eyes wide open and staring at you.
“Hold your tongue,” Stannis bites. “These men died defending the Wall,” He reminds you, and you lower your head. “Show them respect,” You swallow hard, embarrassed to have your king scold you. “I’ve ordered the bodies burned, that should make your bastard friend happy,”
“For whatever reason,” You mutter.
“Is he not a follower of R’hllor?” Stannis asks.
“No, Sire,” You tell him. “He was raised to worship the Old Gods, like his father,”
“Hm,”
Grey Wind stops playing in the snow with Ghost and bites the arm of the dead brother, ripping it from the body, snarling viciously.
“Grey Wind!” You call out, running toward the large beast. “Drop it!”
Men think you’re deranged as you yank the torn arm from the direwolf’s mouth, damn near fighting the wolf before he drops the arm falls on the snow, and you begin to scold Grey Wind.
“What have I told you about eating deadmen?” You shake your head in disappointment at the wolf. “You’ll get sick,”
Jon approaches you, Ghost at his side. “Have you gone mad?”
“Possibly,” You reply, half-joking. “The Mad Knight, how terrifying is that?” You ask.
“You’re a knight?”
“I am,” You confirm. Yes, Robb knighted you following your valor at Whispering Wood. Even Stannis accepted your knighthood, especially when you returned to Dragonstone with Dawn and title of ‘Sword of the Morning’.
You turn to Stannis, with Melisandre now standing beside him. When you take your eyes off Grey Wind, the wolf runs off and Ghost chases after him. Grey Wind then begin to pursue some brother in black.
“You’ll want to put Grey Wind in a kennel,” Jon tells you. “Ser Alliser doesn’t like direwolves walking about,” He warns. Ghost returns to his side.
“I don’t give a fuck what Ser Alliser doesn’t like,” Vexed that Jon would suggest locking the direwolf away to appease Ser Alliser, whoever the fuck he is. “I’m not putting Grey WInd in a cage,” The wolf growls lowly at the mention of a cage. Not since the massacre has Grey Wind been in a cage.
“I don’t give a fuck what Ser Alliser doesn’t like,” Jon smiles. Ever so outspoken and fierce. He still remembers you demanding his father let you train and fight along with Robb, Theon and himself. “I’m not putting Grey Wind in a cage,” Jon does not push. If Ser Alliser had a problem with the direwolf, he could take it up with the king.
“I can take you to your chambers,” Jon tells you.
Stannis has taken the King’s Tower, and, unsure if the king would want you to reside in the tower, he takes you to the old barracks behind the armory. His quarters has a fire lit and bath ready for you. He’ll share this room with you, happy to offer his bed and sleep on the wooden floor.
It’s selfish of Jon. He’ll have you sleep in his bed to ease his worries. Jon has heard the song of Brave Danny Flint, and his stomach turns in fear of such harm being done to you. Jon trusts his brothers, but not with you.
Grey Wind lays down next to his bed, closing his eyes and resting his head on his paws.
“How’d you get it?” Jon looks at Dawn. So much has happened since you both left Winterfell. Now, reunited at the edge of the world.
“I proved myself worthy,” Nothing more. No details.
You distance yourself from him, which hurts deeply. There’s so much Jon doesn’t know about you now. Something is different, he can feel it in the air.
“At the Twins...” Jon begins. “How did you-”
“I survived,” You interrupt him. “I took Grey Wind, and I survived,” Jon can see tears forming in your eyes. Jon has long memorized all the different shades of purple in your iris, and he can see the light in your lilac eyes is completely gone, making them appear a deep violet.
You turn away from him.
“I-I’m sorry,” Jon apologizes. “I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, feeling terrible for reminding you of such a traumatizing moment.
“Do you know why the Freys betrayed their king?” You ask him.
Jon nods. He’s read the letters: Robb broke an oath with House Frey, and House Frey conspired with the Lannisters to kill Robb. The Freys violated the sacred law of guest right and slaughtered northmen at a wedding.
“Talisa Maegyr, Robb’s beloved wife, was actually Talisa Marbrand,” You say. “Tywin Lannister had the girl work as a spy in our camp, and Robb was stupid enough to fall in love with her,” You scoff bitterly, angry with Robb for falling in love with a Lannister spy and breaking an oath. “And he got the bitch pregnant,”
There is a few seconds of silence.
“She was pregnant and heading to King’s Landing,” Jon listens assiduously. His blood runs cold.
“Was?” Jon whispers.
“She couldn’t live,” You turn to him. “If Tywin had gotten ahold of Robb’s heir...the North would’ve been lost,” Tears threaten to escape your eyes. A second of silence. “So I found her at Seaguard and I drove a sword through her heart,” Your eyes look hollow, your voice lacks emotion, but there is pain in your eyes. Pain, guilt, and tears.
Jon wants to hold you. He want to wrap his arms around you and never let you go, yet he can’t find it in himself to move. Shocked with your confession, he stands frozen.
But then your face breaks and tears run down your cheeks. Your breathing is shaky as you try to stop crying. You lower your head and turn away from Jon. He reaches for your hand, takes it in his, and has you face him again.
Jon pulls you in his arms and holds you tight, happy to have you alive and at his side.
FLAMES consumed Mance Rayder’s body, but he did not scream. You stood with Stannis as Melisandre set Mance on fire, and you looked to Jon in anger when he shot an arrow into Mance’s heart.
Jon showed mercy to the savage. He prevented the king’s justice.
Still, Mance’s body burned in the courtyard for all of Castle Black to see.
Now the Shieldhall booms with cheers as Jon is chosen to be the new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. You can see Jon breathing heavy, overwhelmed, elated, and terrified that his brothers would chose him to lead them. He faintly smiles.
You’re reminded of the night Robb was crowned King in the North, and you frown.
Melisandre finds you in the east courtyard, watching Grey Wind and Ghost play in the snow. “Your leave was noticed,” The red woman says as she approaches you. “Why so sad, my lady?”
“I don’t like Castle Black,” You confess.
Being with Jon again brought back old memories, painful memories best left forgotten. Staying at Castle Black simply prolongs your anguish, constantly reminded that Jon didn’t choose you; he chose the Night’s Watch. You’d much rather march on Winterfell than be stuck in this purgatory.
The red woman grins, “Have you grown bored already?” She asks. “Fear not, His Grace expects to march south soon. Within the fortnight. And we anticipate Jon Snow accompany the king to Winterfell,”
“How?” Your brows furrow, confused as to how Stannis would convince Jon to ride south and disregard his vows. He’s already refused Stannis’s offer to legitimize him and make him Warden of the North. Just as stubborn as his father. Besides, he’s the Lord Commander now. You know Jon won’t abandon that responsibility.
“The bastard cares for you,” Melisandre says. You know he does. It’s in the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, the way he refuses to leave your side for more than a few moments. Yes, Jon Snow cares about you, but he doesn’t love you. “He will ride south,” Melisandre is so sure.
“Have you seen it in the flames?” You ask her, standing from the ground and patting the snow from your trousers. Grey Wind’s head perks up and he immediately lunges in your direction.
“I’ve seen him in the flames,” The red woman nods in confirmation. “fighting at Winterfell,”
And that’s all you need to believe her. The Lord’s fires.
You leave her, and Grey Wind follows close behind you.
With Grey Wind, no man dares approach you. That, and you are part of the king’s men, his court. Stannis would take the man’s head that dares touch you. Though that does not stop them from sneering at you, mocking your god and ridiculing your sex. If it weren’t for Jon, you’d thrown all of Castle Black off the Wall for one thing or another.
When you enter the quarters, you see Jon sitting at the foot of your unmade bed.
“Congratulations,” You tell him, entering the bedchamber and allowing Grey Wind inside.
“I don’t want it,” Jon admits, looking into the fire.
“Too late for that,” You close the door.
“I didn’t want Sam to nominate me,”
“Because you knew you’d win?” You ask, walking to the bed and sitting next to him.
He says nothing, and you sigh.
“I stood with Robb when they crowned him King in the North,” Your hand reaches for his. “He didn’t want it. He was fucking terrified. All he wanted was justice for Ned and to get his sisters back, and they named him king,” Gods be good, why would any man ever want to be king?
“And now he’s dead,” Jon states. His brother is dead, yet Jon still stands.
“Be smarter than him,” You take his hand in yours, resting your head on his shoulder and looking into the fire.
“Why do you burn them?” Jon asks.
You lift your head and look to him, “It is what the Lord commands,” You answer plainly.
“Burning people alive is a sin,” He pulls away from you, disgusted.
“No act done in service of the Lord can ever be called a sin,” You try to reason with him, meeting his eyes and holding a gaze. “Mance Rayder was a deserter,” You remind Jon. “And he refused to bend the knee. He deserved the flames. You prevented the king’s justice,”
Jon can’t believe his ears. You’re advocating for execution by burning! It’s completely immoral. You had been ready to watch Mance die in agony with a smile on your face. “No act done in service of the Lord can ever be called a sin,” You say hauntingly, your violet eyes empty. “He refused to bend the knee. He deserved the flames. You prevented the king’s justice,”
“That wasn’t justice,” Jon strongly disagrees. He stands from the bed, stepping away from you. “It’s barbaric,” How could you defend such a wicked act? How could you act in such a sinful manner? Is your god so cruel?
“So be it. I don’t care if we go down in history as barbarians,” You’re blind with a thirst for revenge. So eager to march south, and it’ll get you killed.
A knock at the door.
Grey Wind growls.
“M-my lady,” A boy’s trembling voice is heard through the door. “His Grace c-commands your presence,” You open the door. A boy clad in Baratheon gold and black stands in front of you, eyes wide with fear at the sight of and proximity to Grey Wind. “His Grace a-also commands the Lord Commander’s presence,”
“Thank you,” You dismiss the boy and turn to Jon.
He follows you to the King’s Tower. Upon entry, Jon is stripped of his weapons before admitted to the royal presence. You are left untouched.
Jon kneels, “Your Grace,”
“Lord Commander,” Stannis and Ser Davos are gathered over the map of the North. You walk to them and stand behind the king. “Do you know who rules Winterfell now, Lord Snow?” Stannis asks, not taking his eyes off the map of the north.
“Roose Bolton,” Jon stands.
“Mm, the traitor who plunged a dagger into Robb Stark’s heart,” Stannis nods. “Don’t you want to avenge him?” He asks.
“I want a great many things, Your Grace,” Jon admits, stealing a glance of you. “But I'm Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. My place is here,” The Night’s Watch takes no part. “I wish I could fight beside you. Believe me, I do. But I swore a sacred vow at the Godswood. I pledged my life to the Night's Watch,”
“Roose Bolton summoned all leal lords to celebrate his son’s wedding to Sansa Stark. Ramsay Snow is to marry your sister,” Stannis reveals, his eyes look to Jon. “I will take back the North from the thieves who stole it, and I will save your sister if I can. Will you ride beside me as Jon Stark?”
He’s tempted, just as he was when Stannis offered him Winterfell, just as he was when you came to his bedroom oh so many years ago, begging him to stay. Jon is tempted to ride south with you and Stannis to free Sansa from the man that killed her mother and brother. Tempted.
“I have no love for Lord Bolton or his son, but the Night’s Watch cannot take up arms against them. Our vows prohibit-”
“I know all about your vows. Spare me your rectitude, Lord Snow. I have strength enough without you,” The free folk he’d captured from Mance’s camp, Jon thinks, majority of which are women, children, old, and sick. “I have a mind to march against the Dreadfort,” When the king turns his head to see the shock on Jon’s face, he smiles. Jon looks to you. You stand proudly, almost thrilled, and he is filled with dread. “Does that surprise you?” Stannis asks Jon. “Good. What surprises one Snow may yet surprise another. If I take the Dreadfort unawares-”
“You won’t,” Jon blurts out.
“Explain your meaning,”
Jon moves to the map, “To reach the Dreadfort, Your Grace must travel down the kingsroad past the Last River, turn south by east and cross the Lonely Hills,” He points. “Those are Umber lands, where they know every tree and every rock. The kingsroad runs along their western marches for a hundred leagues. The Umbers will cut your host to pieces unless you win them to your cause,” He explains.
“Mance Rayder’s skull should be enough to win Mors Umber,” You state. Horrified with your comment, Jon looks at you with concern.
Stannis hums.
“Very well. Let us say I do that,”
“That will bring you to the Dreadfort,” says Jon, “but unless your host can outmarch a raven or a line of beacon fires, the castle will know of your approach. It will be an easy thing for Ramsay Bolton to cut off your retreat and leave you far from the Wall, without food or refuge, surrounded by your foes,”
“Only if he abandons his siege of Moat Cailin,”
“Moat Cailin will fall before you ever reach the Dreadfort,” Jon tells you, tries to reason with some part of you that this plan is too dangerous, reckless. “Once Lord Roose has joined his strength to Ramsay’s, they will have you outnumbered five to one.”
“My brother won battles at worse odds,”
“Your Grace, this is a bold stroke, but the risk...if Roose Bolton should catch you beneath his walls with his main strength, it will be the end for all of you,” Jon knows you’ll be fighting bravely alongside your king. He looks to you with a pain in his heart, because he knows you won’t stop until you’ve dealt justice.
“Without a son of Winterfell to stand beside me, I can only hope to win the north by battle. That requires stealing a leaf from my brother’s book. Not that Robert ever read one. I must deal my foes a mortal blow before they know that I am on them.” Jon realizes his words are wasted.
Stannis means to take the Dreadfort or die in the attempt, and you intend to follow him into the jaws of death.
The Night’s Watch takes no part, a voice says, but another reponds, Stannis fights for the realm. “Your Grace, I know where you might find more men. Give me the wildlings, and I will gladly tell you where and how,”
“Some of your own Sworn Brothers would have me believe that you are half a wildling yourself. Is it true?”
“To you they are only arrow fodder. I can make better use of them upon the Wall. Give them to me to do with as I will, and I’ll show you where to find your victory … and men as well,”
Stannis rubs the back of his neck, “How many men?”
“Two thousand. Perhaps three,”
“Three thousand? What manner of men are these?”
“Proud. Poor. Prickly where their honor is concerned but fierce fighters,”
“This had best not be some bastard’s trick. Will I trade three hundred fighters for three thousand? Aye, I will. I am not an utter fool. Where are these men?”
“You’ll find them here.” Jon approaches the map and glides his hand across the map, west of the kingsroad and south of the Gift.
“Those mountains?” Stannis seems suspicious. “I see no castles marked there. No roads, no towns, no villages,”
“The map is not the land, my father often said. Men have lived in the high valleys and mountain meadows for thousands of years, ruled by their clan chiefs,”
“And they will fight for me, you believe?”
“If you ask them,”
“Why should I beg for what is owed me?”
“Ask, I said, not beg.” Jon pulls his hand back. “It is no good sending messages. Your Grace will need to go to them yourself. Eat their bread and salt, drink their ale, listen to their pipers, praise the beauty of their daughters and the courage of their sons, and you’ll have their swords. The clans have not seen a king since Torrhen Stark bent his knee. Your coming does them honor,”
“How many clans are you speaking of?”
“Two score, small and large. Flint, Wull, Norrey, Liddle … win Old Flint and Big Bucket, the rest will follow,”
Stannis drums his fingers on the map, “These mountain lords will not hinder my passage?”
“Only with feasts. Each will try to outdo the others with his hospitality. My lord father said he never ate half so well as when visiting the clans.”
“For three thousand men, I suppose I can endure some pipes and porridge,” the king says.
“The feasts can feed the army,” You note. “No need to continue taking from Castle Black’s already short food supply,” He’s grateful for your suggestion; Jon has already ordered rations cut.
“And where would you have me take these men?”
"Deepwood Motte,” Jon suggests. “The going will be slower through the mountains, admittedly, but up there your host can move unseen, to emerge almost at the gates of Deepwood,”
“When Balon Greyjoy rose the first time, I beat the ironmen at sea, where they are fiercest. On land, taken unawares … aye. I have won a victory over the wildlings and their King-Beyond-the-Wall. If I can smash the ironmen as well, the north will know it has a king again,” Stannis agrees to hold marching on the Dreadfort.
WATCHING Jon execute Janos Slynt gave you great pleasure. Slynt led the City Watch during Ned’s time as Hand, and Slynt turned the City Watch on Ned, allowing him to be taken prisoner. So yes, seeing that fucker get his head cut off was satisfying. Hearing him crying out and beg brought a smile to your face.
Now, in the King’s Tower, Stannis plans his march to the northern mountains.
“You’ll stay here at Castle Black, in the King’s Tower, with my daughter and the queen,” The king commands you. “Ser Davos has chosen a dozen men to remain and guard the queen and the princess,” He tells you. “And your beast as proven capable of defending you,”
“Sire, my place is by your-”
“Your place is where I tell you it is,” He says sternly. Why is he being so cruel? “Now leave us,” Stannis orders. You glance at Davos before lowering your head and turning to leave, hurt and angry that your king would abandon you at Castle Black whilst he marches to the mountains in order to win the clans.
Seeking to be alone, you go to the library.
The only people you’ve seen in there are Jon’s friend Sam, Gilly, and Maester Aemon. Sam is a sweet boy with a heart softer than his belly. He’s been nothing but kind to you, with fascination in his eyes learning you are Ser Arthur Dayne’s daughter. He doesn’t call you bastard like the others. No, Samwell has the love tenderness of a woman — he tells you he’s killed a White Walker to protect Gilly.
Old Nan told you stories about the white shadows with eyes like burning ice. Her tales and powerful voice disturbed you deeply as a ten year old girl from Dorne.
Melisandre finds you.
“I wanted to be left alone,” You tell her, your eyes never pull away from the words in the book.
“I know,” She tells you. From the corner of your eye, you see her looking through the bookshelves. “Do not be angry, sweet child. You’ll march with the king soon enough, and Castle Black will only be a distant memory,” Jon will be a distant memory.
Of course you’re angry! You’ll likely die angry. You can’t be with the man you love because he’s devoted his life to the Night’s Watch. Traitors and monsters roam free while good men rot in the ground. Now, your king has judged you futile.
You try to focus on the words in your book, but can’t help but glance at Melisandre. She pulls a book from the shelf and begins flipping through the pages without care.
You’ve often wondered what the red priestess sees in her fires, how she interprets R’hllor’s words. It was on her word that Stannis set sail for the Wall. It was because of Melisandre that Stannis accepted you in his army; because of her that Stannis wants Jon to ride south with the army.
She’s seen you behind Winterfell’s gates; seen you standing beside the Lord’s chosen in King’s Landing, fighting with Dawn in hand, yet the king plans to leave you at Castle Black.
She’s also seen Jon fighting at Winterfell...
You slowly lower the book and look to Melisandre. “Are your fires never wrong?“ You ask, completely vulnerable and seeking guidance from the red priestess. She’s been so certain in her visions, prepared to do anything R’hllor demands of her.
“Never,” She smiles, putting the book away and walking toward you. She’s hauntingly beautiful, with her skin pale as snow and hair red as blood. Her unearthly red eyes gaze into your unnatural purple ones.
“Jon isn’t riding south,” You tell her.
The door can be heard opening. Someone steps into the library,
“Lord Commander,” Melisandre says, pulling away from you and turning.
Jon steps into view, donning a new cloak. Black curls frame his hardened face. He looks strong. Powerful. Overburden. A true leader. If the men of the Night’s Watch did anything right in their four thousand years, it was electing Jon as Lord Commander.
“My lady...s,” Jon bows his head. You find yourself smiling at his gesture. He looks at the Lady Melisandre with unease. “My lady, fair warning. The old gods are strong in those mountains. The clansmen will not suffer insults to their heart trees,”
"Have no fear, Jon Snow, I will not trouble your mountain savages and their dark gods. Our place is here with you and your brave brothers."
He turns to you, “You’re staying?”
“King’s orders,” You say.
“The Wall is no place for women," Jon warns..
“You are wrong. I have dreamed of your Wall, Jon Snow,” Melisandre says, her unearthly red eyes glance to Jon. “This is my place as it is yours,”
“You are wrong. I have dreamed of your Wall, Jon Snow,” The red woman tells Jon. She looks at you with such care and pride, like a mother would a daughter. It disturbs Jon greatly. “This is my place as it is yours,” She says.
You look at her with wonder, a priestess for your god. It’s she who has twisted your mind, Jon thinks, concerned with the red woman’s power over you.
The red woman leaves, and you make your way toward Jon. “You’re the only thing that makes this demotion in anyway tolerable,” You tell him with a smile.
He wants to kiss you. He wants to hold you in his arms and kiss you until the air leaves his lungs. Maybe a kiss can break the witch’s spell, Jon thinks naively.
“I’m going to Hardhome,” Jon tells you. Your smile fades. “Tormund says most of the free folk are there, and the king’s lent the Night’s Watch his fleet,” He explains.
“But why do you have to go?” You ask, concern on your face. There’s a pull at his heart with seeing you concerned over his well-being. “Send an emissary,” You suggest.
“The free folk need to hear it from me,” Jon tells you. “They need to know the ships don’t be burned in the middle of the sea,”
“Of course the ships won’t be burned,” You scoff. “They’re Stannis’s ships,”
“I need to be there,” Jon sighs.
“Fine, then I’m going with you,” You suggest.
“It’s safer for you at Castle Black, I can’t-”
“Don’t care. I’m going with you,” You assert. “I...” Your pretty and rare eyes looking at him all soft, and his heart melts. “please,” He did not expect to hear you beg. He can’t remember you ever begging for anything.
You begged him to stay.
Jon gives you a simple nod.
That night, Jon rests in the Lord Commander’s Keep. Without you. Ghost rests with him, laying at the side of the bed. He worries over you, now sleeping in the King’s Tower, so far from him. Despite knowing Grey Wind sleeps in your room, Jon worries.
That night, Jon does not sleep, afraid his ears would be deaf to your screams.
Stannis leaves in the morning. Jon stands beside you as the king and his host march past Castle Black’s gates. The queen and princess have a small garrison of Baratheon soldiers guarding them, and the red woman stands alone. An empty smile on her lips.
Jon prepares to leave for Eastwatch. That day, he tells his brothers of his plan and somehow recruits brothers to join him. He sees you seldom that day, in passing only. Each time, Melisandre is at your side, whispering into your ear.
Jon doesn’t expect to see you at his door so late at night. You, so pretty and soft and deadly, looking at him with want in your eyes, clutching the fabric of your long robes to keep them from opening.
Protective, he pulls you close and locks the door. “Have you gone-”
You kiss him. He feels your soft lips on his, and your mouth tastes of wine and honey. Jon reluctantly pulls away. You cup his face, allowing your robes to open.
Jon gazes into your eyes. He studies your face, the desperate look in your eyes. You take his hand, guide him up your body. “Don’t you want me?” You purr, your lilac eyes blazing, pleading.
“O-of course,” Jon stutters, feeling your fingers around his cock. You gently squeeze him and slowly begin to stroke. Jon feels a stirring in his belly and his manhood stiffens. “My vows,” He whispers, his hazy eyes meeting yours, but he doesn’t push you away.
You kiss him again, “I love you,”
And he kisses you back, desperate to taste more of you.
He cups your breast, loving the feel of your soft skin against his hands.
Jon takes you in his bed, thick furs warm your back as Jon pushes himself into your wet slit. He can feel your body resisting him, all tight and warm and sweet. Lost in pleasure, Jon buries himself deep inside you. A primal growl escapes his throat. He rolls his hips again, seating himself in your warm and tight hole.
“F-fuck,”
“Aah-” Your face twists in pain. He kisses you, to keep your moans from echoing into the barracks.
Heavy breathing, stifled moans, and wetness echo in the Lord Commander’s chambers that night. He grinds into your tight hole, slowly pulling out before forcefully thrusting into you.
You grind your hips, meet his thrusts.
“I-I love you,” Jon cries in a whisper, sweat forming on his head. He rocks his hips, feeling your velvet walls pulsing around his cock.
Just a few more pumps, Jon pants heavily. He tries to hold back his orgasm, his stomach tightening at his efforts. He continues rutting into you, so sure he’ll pull out before reaching his end.
And then he feels your walls tighten around him, milking him as your body jerks. You grab his hair and a breathy moan escapes your lips as you cream on his cock. “I —nngh!”
You curse his name. You look so pretty, whimpering and writhing underneath him, tits bouncing as he fucks himself deeper into you. Jon’s entire body jolts with electricity. His cock twitches, and he groans, squirting his seed inside you.
Frantically, he pulls out and ropes of cum drip on your belly.
That night, Jon sleeps in your arms. He feels warm and safe with your arms around him. It’s the best sleep Jon has had in years. What more could he ask for than to be held by the woman he loves?
For it to last longer.
In the morning, you leave for Hardhome.
HARDHOME is cursed. An unholy place. Dead thing in the woods. Dead things in the water. You don’t say a word in the sail to Eastwatch, simply stare at the waters, terrified of something creeping from the deep.
You saw the white shadows. The cold children. They massacred the free folk, and you watched as the Other raised the dead. The Great Other. Melisandre told you about R’hllor’s nemesis, the god of ice and death.
Stannis, only Stannis can defeat them.
“How did you get it on fire?” The giant ginger, Tormund Giantsbane, approaches you.
“Faith,” You say impassively.
“And your blood,” He saw you cut your hand with Dawn’s blade before a fire lit on the pale blade. “Are you a witch?”
You manage a smile at Tormund’s assumption. “No,” Though many men have spat that word at you, “I am a servant of the Lord of Light,” You tell him, waters clashing against the ship. R’hllor has gifted you with fire.
With little more than five thousand people behind him, Jon marches to Castle Black and Ser Alliser opens the gates.
Grey Wind lays his head on your lap as you sit before the fire. You look into the flames, watching as they dance wildly. It brings you comfort, being so close to the fire and having Grey Wind in your lap. With him at your side, a part of Robb is with you too.
Jon finds you, half-dazed and inches away from burning your face off. You feel his arms on your shoulders before he pulls you away from the fire. You continue to stare at the fire.
“You wish I freeze in these halls?” You ask.
“I don’t want to see you burn too,” Jon says.
A moment of silence.
"A-a raven from Deepwood,” He tells you. You turn to him, worry fills you awaiting his next words. “Stannis has taken it,” He says.
“Of course he has,” You smile, standing on your feet and taking the parchment from his fingers. You begin reading the king’s words.
The northern mountain clans have rallied to Stannis, and they’ve liberated Deepwood Motte from the ironmen. The Glovers have declared for Stannis, as has House Mormont. Joyous at your king’s victories, you smile.
You look at Jon, who seems dejected.
You continue reading:
Lord Commander, send my Sword of the Morning. Lord Bolton marches on Deepwood. I need Lightbringer. I need my Sword.
You’re touched. He does not ask for Melisandre. The king ends his letter demanding Jon send you south. Now you understand the sad look on Jon’s face. It hurts him to see you go. That your absence could do that to him warms your heart and breaks it all the same.
“I must ride immediately,” You say, tossing the parchment into the fire and begin putting on your armor. Melisandre saw a victory at Winterfell in the flames. She saw you behind the gates, and now you must go to your king.
Soon, Grey Wind is on his paws, cocking his head in your direction. You grab your baldric and make way to the door, but Jon stands in your path.
“The king has ordered my presence,” You frown, brows draw together.
“You’ve seen what’s out there and you still want to fight in their war?” Jon asks.
“Stannis is my king,” You remind Jon. “the Lord’s chosen,” There is no doubt in your mind that Stannis will prevent an age of darkness, as Melisandre foretold. “I will ride south and tell him of what I saw at Hardhome. He’ll take the North and keep fighting until the Other is defeated,”
“Stannis is my king,” You assert. “the Lord’s chosen,” Jon realizes your loyalty to Stannis exceeds that of simple fealty. “I will ride south and tell him of what I saw at Hardhome. He’ll take the North and keep fighting until the Other is defeated,” The red woman has you believing in prophecy. She has the king believing it too.
Jon is ashamed to admit he thought of keeping the letter from you. In the letter, Stannis makes a demand for you, his Sword, his Lightbringer —a magical sword Azor Ahai is meant to use to end the darkness. He demands prophecy.
The letter also says Roose Bolton marches on Deepwood — accounting for the raven’s travel time, only your god knows where the Bolton army lays. Perhaps they’ve already defeated Stannis. Despite the impending snow storm, the Bolton army has more men than Stannis, better trained men, better armed, better-
“You won’t survive,” Jon says, urging you stay at Castle Black.
“So be it,” You don’t care. “He asked for me,”
You push Jon aside and leave the room. Grey Wind lunges after you, and Jon follows the direwolf.
“Don’t do this,” Jon begs, grabbing your hand before you reach the stables.
“Do what?” You ask. “Follow my king’s orders?” You question. “Jon, he asked for me,” You repeat, gazing into his eyes. “Think what you want of him, but Stannis fights for the realm. Everything he’s done has been for the realm. He marched North because he understands the real war isn’t about the Iron Throne. I’ve sworn my sword to him,” Your blind loyalty to Stannis will kill you, and it breaks Jon’s heart.
You pull your arm away and walk into the stables. Jon’s vision blurs as tears fill his eyes as he watches you take Moon Dancer from her stall, determined to ride to your death, and Jon is powerless to stop you.
In the courtyard, there are free folk watching as you mount Moon Dancer, Dawn strapped to your back. You helped in rescuing them, putting your life on the line in hopes they’d make it to the ships. They’ve seen you fight against the dead and even kill a White Walker with your magic fiery sword. Now, you’re leaving Castle Black, and they seem upset, anxious.
“Don’t go, please,” He pleads, looking up at you with tears in his eyes. It’s the same words you said to him so many years ago in Winterfell. “Please,” He extends his arm for you to take so he can help you off Moon Dancer.
He can see you struggle between taking his hand and riding south to Stannis.
And you choose Stannis.
Watching you ride past Castle Black’s gates, Jon feels like he’s drowning. It hurts to breathe, like his chest was being ripped open. It hurts to see the gates close on you. It just hurts.
Jon then realizes what you must have felt that night, asking him not to leave you.
He spends the days in near silence, anticipating a raven from Deepwood.
LEAVING Castle Black after looking into Jon’s teary eyes had to be the hardest thing you’ve done. Not even killing Talisa brought you so much hesitation and pain. You were stupid to think Jon would ride south, even for you, even after you’ve slept together. Stupid and utterly in love with a man you can’t have.
You are greeted with the cold stare of your king at the gates of Deepwood Motte, with Sansa standing beside him.
Tears fill your eyes as you lay eyes on the girl. She looks beautiful, despite the bruises on her face and cut on her lip and red surrounding her eyes.
Dismounting Moon Dancer, you rush to Sansa and hug her. She wraps her arms around you, tightly clinging onto you and crying into your cloak. You hold her and stroke her hair, crying along with her. The last time you saw her, she was just a little girl engrossed with the idea of marrying Joffrey. She’s older now...it nearly brought you to tears.
“When I heard they married you to that bastard...oh, Sansa,” You cry. Even Joffrey must’ve been kinder to her. You’ve heard what he did to his first wife, poor Lady Donella Hornwood. “How did you escape?” You ask. Stannis had not taken Winterfell.
Sansa pulls away and looks to the skinny man standing behind her. The cloak on his shoulders devour him. The man’s eyes do not meet yours as he cowers down. Confused, you take a step forward.
“Theon,” Sansa says, and his hollow eyes meet finally yours. You glance to Stannis. Why hasn’t he killed Theon already?
Angry, you reach for Dawn. So be it, I’ll do it myself. He betrayed Robb. He attacked Winterfell. He murdered Bran and Rickon.
Sansa takes your hands before you can remove Dawn from its scabbard, “Look at him,” She tells you.
Theon’s body is trembling, his arms and legs too skinny. With his mouth slightly open, you see he’s missing teeth, and his skin looks like paste. He looks like a skeleton. He looks completely broken.
“What the fuck happened to him?” You ask.
“Ramsay,”
Death would have been kinder. Death and fire.
"You survived the storm,” Stannis notes. Happy to see you too, Sire.
“Moon Dancer almost didn’t,” You look to your exhausted horse. You road for two days straight through the snow storm, with nothing but a thick cloak, Grey Wind, and R’hllor’s fire to keep you warm. You survived the storm, because R’hllor commanded it.
“The bastard marches from Winterfell,” Stannis informs you. You approach the king and Ser Davos. “His host follows the Freys and Manderlys,”
“Manderlys?” You question, disgusted that they’d march with the Boltons. The Freys supporting Roose and his bastard comes to no surprise — they worked together to betray and kill Robb at the Twins. The Manderlys lost people at the red wedding, how could they support Roose? Fear.
Boltons, Freys, and Manderlys march on Deepwood, with men better suited to fight in the winter. No matter, Stannis held Storm’s End for nearly a year. He took Dragonstone from the dragons. He defeated Mance Rayder. He’ll defeat Roose’s bastard too.
“Has Lord Snow returned with my ships?” Stannis asks and you nod. “Good. Ser Justin, when you arrive at Castle Black, you’ll find ships to sail you to Braavos,” Stannis tells the man with a neatly trimmed blond beard and thick straight hair. “and deliver Lady Stark to Lord Commander Snow on your way to Eastwatch,"
You look to Sansa, happy that she’ll be reunited with her brother. Half-brother, the little girl would roll her eyes. You smile at the memory.
Sansa appears sad, with worry in her eyes. “You won’t be coming with?”
“I’m sorry, little ember,” You smile sadly. It’s been years since you’ve used that nickname. “But I’ve come to fight beside my king,”
Sansa shakes her head, “No, no! You’ll die,” She cries. She doesn’t want to lose you too, again. “Please, Y/N, please come with me,” She’s afraid for you.
You hug her once more, a final goodbye.
When you try to pull away, Sansa tightens her hold.
“Sansa,” A tall woman with yellow hair in armor approaches you and the Stark girl. Brienne, you remember seeing her and Lady Catelyn return to Robb’s camp. “Sansa, we have to go,” Brienne urges.
“Don’t be afraid,” You kiss Sansa’s forehead. “We’ll see each other again,” One way or another, you promise her and she lets go of you.
You approach Stannis and refuse to turn back, hearing Sansa’s stifled crying as the gates reopened.
“Eat, rest,” Stannis orders you. “We’ll be under siege by morning,”
At Castle Black, Jon receives scrolls from angry northern lords, upset that the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch has allowed wildling savages through the Wall. Many of his sworn brothers feel the same, though they say nothing.
There is hostility at Castle Black, and then Jon gets a letter from Deepwood Motte, the seal smeared with pink wax.
Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. I have his fire witch. Tell his red whore.
The letter is sent by Roose Bolton’s bastard. Ramsay demands his bride back. He demands for Reek. He demands for Melisandre. He demands for Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen.
Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.
The parchment trembles in his hands. With a pain in his stomach and stinging in his heart, he reads: I have his magic sword. I have his fire witch. Tell his red whore.
Jon feels sick.
He knows of Roose Bolton’s bastard, who takes women’s skin and feeds their bodies to hounds.
And now Ramsay has you.
Jon feels sick.
He begs to the old gods and the new that you died in battle, alongside your king. It would be a kinder fate than becoming Ramsay’s prisoner, but he knows gods are cruel.
In the Shieldhall, Jon gathers his brothers and free folk to inform them of Ramsay’s threats. He reads out the letter.
“He’s taken the fire sword? The girl?” Tormund asks. Jon does his best to hide his emotions and gives the Giantsbane a simple nod. “And where where will you be, crow? Hiding here in Castle Black with your white dog?” Tormund questions, angry.
The Giantsbane has already expressed disapproval over Jon allowing you to leave Castle Black, so his anger is unsurprising. It would seem at Hardhome he grew to admire you and your flaming sword.
“No, I ride south,”
Stannis fights for the realm.
“The Night’s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon reminds them. Since your arrival at Castle Black, he has told himself that hundreds of times. “It is not for us to oppose the Bastard of Bolton, to avenge Stannis Baratheon, to defend his widow and his daughter. This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words…but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless…is there any man here who will come stand with me?”
There is a roar in the hall, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Not just brothers, but free folk. Many fight agree to ride south with Jon. They’ll ride in the morning, Jon tells the volunteers.
Sworn Brothers began to slip out of the hall. It made no matter. Jon did not need them now. He did not want them.
Melisandre is gone, Jon soon realizes, as are the queen’s knights.
Jon stands from his seat in the Shieldhall and exits with the intent to speak with the red woman about her fires and the lies she fed you that made you so willing to ride to your death.
But then he hears shouting…and a roar so loud it seemed to shake the Wall. Then a scream follows. The princess, Jon panics, but that was no woman’s scream. That is a man in mortal agony.
He breaks into a run toward the screaming.
The screaming stops by the time they came to Hardin’s Tower, but Wun Wun continues roaring. The giant is dangling a bloody corpse by one leg, with the snow beneath it turning red.
“Let him go,” Jon shouts. “Wun Wun, let him go!”
Men begin pouring in from the surrounding keeps and towers.
“Form a line,” Jon commands them.
Wun Wun howls again, swinging the dead knight against the grey stone of the tower, again and again and again, until the man’s head is red and pulpy as a summer melon.
“Keep back, the rest of you. Put away your steel, we’re scaring him,” Wun-Wun had been cut, could they not see that? Jon had to put an end to this or more men would die. They had no idea of Wun Wun’s strength. Jon saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. “No blades!” He screamed, “Put that knife …”
Away, Jon meant to say. When Alliser stabs him in the gut, the the word turns into a grunt.
summary: the king in the north interrupts the martells as they have dinner with hopes of forming an alliance with dorne and falls in love while navigating southern politics before returning to war.
author’s note: i’ve been compulsively rewatching game of thrones and need to write something for my boo plus dorne deserves lots love so ,, warning this turned out kinda long ,, umm lmk if this made you feel anything im losing the ability to produce serotonin ,, requests are open :)
tags: description of reader (vague dornish features), westerosi politics,
Traveling to Dorne while in the middle of a war was not easy for Robb. It was his mother that suggested he seek aid from Prince Doran Martell. When the Lannisters defeated Stannis at Blackwater with support from House Tyrell, Robb acknowledged he needed to make alliances with other Great Houses. So, he sailed for Sunspear.
as someone who is ALSO on a huge got kick right now may i just say that this is one of the best robb fanfictions i’ve ever read. i’m literally going fucking insane right now because I LOVE IT SO MUCH. sorry but the obsession has been a lot and this is wonderful you did great
hjfkdfkjhgfdk im so glad you loved it!!!! i woke up with this notification and was beaming from ear to ear reading it so tysm it really means a lot :))) might write a part 2 👀 ,, i just love robb so much 😭😭
summary: loki finds out that his imaginary friend was very much real and pruned by the tva. their nexus event? falling in love with the god of mischief and the god falling for them.
author’s note: yooo what if....loki had a friend??? ,, reader is gender neutral ,, 100th birthday is equivalent to 18th birthday earth-wise ,, this is short but kinda cute ,, feel free to send requests!
While in Time Theater 5, footage of a younger Loki projects. He remembers that night. He wore tradition Asgardian attire, though green and tailored to fit his regal style. His 100th birthday — he remembers silently crying in his room after the dinner because of how horrible his father made him feel. He fell asleep crying. And now the video projects Loki walking into his bedroom in Asgard with tears running down his eyes.
Loki can’t bear the scene, feeling both vulnerable and embarrassed with such an intimate moment being showcased.
Then there was a knock at the door.
He doesn’t remember that.
“Loki?” A voice he can’t seem to recall is heard through the other side of his bedroom door. “Open the door, please,” His younger self reached for the door knob, opening the door to reveal someone Loki knows isn’t supposed to be real. “Oh, Loki,” You said upon seeing him crying.
“You don’t have to comfort me, Y/N,” His younger self whispered. You cupped his face with your right hand and fixed his disheveled hair with your left. You touched him with such ease, and he did not look uncomfortable with your proximity to him. He looks relaxed and safe.
“I am your best friend!” You smiled, using the sleeve of your tradition green Asgardian attire to wipe the tears from his face. “It is my purpose to comfort you,” You told him. “Especially when Odin is acting like a drunk fool,”
“Thor wasn’t any better,” Younger Loki sniffled. He can’t remember exactly what his father and brother did to ruin his birthday, but —
“And he’ll get a proper smacking in the training yard tomorrow,” You promised him. “Don’t let them get to you,” You said sincerely.
“I’ll never be good enough,” He whispered. “They’ll always look down on me...no matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough,” His voice broke, more tears falling from his eyes. Your empathetic eyes show that you felt his pain — that his pain broke your heart.
“So don’t be,” You told him. “Be the mischievous, cunning trickster that I love,”
“You love me?” His younger self questioned in a whisper.
And then five TVA agents walk through a portal into Loki’s bedroom. “There is our variant,” A woman points at you. Confused and terrified would describe the look in your eyes. Three agents began walking toward the couple.
“Who do you think you are?” Younger Loki asked.
“On the authority the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Sacred Timeline,” The woman announces.
Younger Loki extended his arms out and had daggers materialize in his hands. You held out your left arm and a sword appeared in your hand. His younger self threw a dagger at one of their heads and began duplicating himself.
As the copies of young Loki fill the bedroom and fight the TVA agents, preventing them from taking you away from him, you charged at the agents. The sword in your hand shine bright, and you cut through a man without effort.
“Prune the variant!” The woman ordered. “Then reset everything,” The portal reopened, and the woman watched as the TVA agents focused their attention to you, their batons charged to eliminate you.
“No!” His younger self cried out desperately, running toward you, shooting energy blasts frantically. He hopelessly tried to save you.
But it wasn’t enough, because he isn’t enough.
The video fades as you’re pruned, completely erased from the timeline when the TVA resets everything.
“Y/N was real?” Loki asks, his head lowered, looking away from Mobius as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. For so long, you had been a figment of his imagination, a friend he conjured up because he was so alone.
“They were,” Mobius nods. “But, don’t you see it? You weren’t born to be king, Loki. You weren’t born to have a great love story,” Someone had loved him. All those faded memories he had of you were real. “You were born to cause pain and suffering and death,” Mobius is so certain of Loki’s destiny.
“That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be,” Loki shakes his head at Mobius’s words.
summary: the king in the north interrupts the martells as they have dinner with hopes of forming an alliance with dorne and falls in love while navigating southern politics before returning to war.
author’s note: [ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²] i’ve been compulsively rewatching game of thrones and need to write something for my boo plus dorne deserves some love so yeah lmk if y’all like this im losing the ability to produce serotonin ,, requests are open :)
tags: description of reader (vague dornish features), westerosi politics,
Traveling to Dorne while in the middle of a war was not easy for Robb. It was his mother that suggested he seek aid from Prince Doran Martell. When the Lannisters defeated Stannis at Blackwater with support from House Tyrell, Robb acknowledged he needed to make alliances with other Great Houses. So, he sailed for Sunspear.
"You must forgive us, we started without you,” Prince Doran says lightly.
The first thing Robb notices of the aging prince was the wheeled chair he sits in. His mind goes to Bran, which fills his heart with sadness. Robb misses his brothers and longed to return home, with his sisters.
“Prince Doran,” Robb bows.
“Your Grace,” Doran smiles as a servant pours wine into his cup. The Martells were having dinner. “Please, take a seat,” Doran invites Robb.
“What are you doing in Dorne, Your Grace?” Robb takes a spare seat and turns to the source of the question — a breathtaking Dornish beauty, with hair black as death and skin kissed by the sun. He’s instantly drawn to your entrancing catlike obsidian eyes. “Your Grace?” You call.
“Patience, little viper,” Prince Oberyn speaks, smiling. “Let the boy admire your beauty,” You roll your eyes. "Then he can tell us why he has illegally entered our country in the middle of the night,”
“Well, I can think of two reasons,” Your Dornish drawl is heavy and alluring. Robb could listen to you speak for hours. The smirk on your lips is somehow both playful and terrifying. "A terribly-planned assassination attempt or treaty talks,”
“Apologies, Princes, Princesses,” Robb clears his throat. “But we could not trust a raven or envoy to deliver our proposal,”
“Proposal of sending thousands of Dornishmen to die in your war?” The fire in your voice reveals the love you have for your country. “Well, you certainly have our attention,” You drink your wine, eyeing him.
“Each raven that comes north tells us about your victory against Tywin Lannister,” Oberyn comments.
“You’ve proven yourself to be a gifted commander,” Prince Doran praises him.
Robb scans the faces in the room; the Martells favor a Stark victory, that much is obvious. So, half of his mission is complete, the easiest part. Robb would have to play the game carefully to ensure support in his southern campaign.
“But, battles do not win wars,” You interject. Doran smiles. “So, you’ve come to us,” You grin and lean closer to him. “In hopes that your enemy is also our enemy,” You smile is bright and enthusiastic; it reaches your big dark eyes, and Robb knows he wants to see it again, everyday for the rest of his days. “Smart boy,” Your tone softens and eyes focus on him. A grin threatens to break his face.
“He is not a boy,” Theon’s voice sounds angry, insulted at the princess’s diction. Robb doesn’t turn to look at his oldest friend; he can’t tear his eyes away from you. “His Grace is Robb of House Stark, King in the North,”
“We know who he is, boy,” Princess Arianne bites at Theon with a smile on her lips. “And we are honored to host His Grace,” She bows her head.
"And we thank you. We understand how dangerous it is for you to meet us—”
“And yet you still came,” Oberyn interrupts.
“There are few Houses in Westeros that have suffered at the hands of Lions,” Robb says, choosing his words carefully. Even his tone could help determine the future of his people. “When Joffrey was crowned king, Dorne did not bend the knee,” In fact, Dorne pledged complete neutrality in the War of the Five Kings. “Why?”
“Why do you think, Your Grace?” Prince Doran smiles softly.
“I can only presume that you understand how dangerous it is for a thing like Joffrey to sit on the throne,” Robb hopes that the Martell’s passion for dead Lannisters extends to committing treason against the Crown.
“Oou, a thing,” Arianne chuckles. “Much nicer than what you called it, sweet cousin,” The princess smiles at you. “What was it again?” She asks.
“Enough. There is no need for such language while we eat,” Doran prevents you from revealing your name for Joffrey. It is clear he has grown frustrated. “His Grace and his party must be tired. Aero, escort them to their rooms,” The prince orders his personal guard. “I will have hot meals delivered to you,” He smiles.
“I hope you slept well, Your Grace,” You link your arm with Robb’s as you stroll through the gardens. Robb chuckles at your confidant move. A woman of action. “Was the heat an issue?” You slightly turn to face Robb. He can feel your wandering eyes on his lips, and from the corner of his eye, Robb can see your tongue sweep over your lips. It was a small quick flick of your tongue but cemented your interest in him.
“It was,” Robb smiled. “But once I got all those furs off, I felt the ocean winds,”
You hault. “Hm, yes I found that sleeping naked is the only way to sleep in this heat,” You turn your body, and Robb moves to face you. You close the space between you and him. He swallows hard. You grab his arm and your fingers graze the sleeve of the coat.
“Thankfully, it won’t this heat won’t last,” He smiles.
“Oh, right, ‘winter is coming’,” You mimic his northern accent and wink at him.
He laughs. Your smile makes him feel warm.
“You are so pretty, my princess,” Robb hears a boy’s voice not too far away. “And you are going to be my wife,” The boy laughs.
“You’re going to be my husband,” A girl says.
Robb looks at you, curious about the voices. So, you grab his hand and drag him through the intricate garden, turn after turn, until you reach the boy and girl. You release Robb’s hand before approaching the pair.
“Trystane,” You say happily. “I thought you were at the Water Gardens,”
“Myrcella likes the Old Palace,” Trystane tells you.
Robb looks at the gold-haired princess. Myrcella Baratheon. No. Myrcella Waters. Her brother killed his father. Her father, her true father, shoved his brother out a window. Her mother holds his sisters hostage.
“Who is your friend?” Myrcella takes Trystane’s hand and stands beside him.
“Ah, a northern bastard,” You lie to the princess. Robb furrows his brows, confused as to why you would lie. “Jory Snow,” He cracks a smile.
“What are you doing so far from home, Ser?” Myrcella asks kindly. Trystane holds Myrcella close, his fingers playing with her hand.
“The war has displaced a great many people,” You tell the princess. The warm smile on Myrcella’s lips slowly fades.
“My deepest sympathy,” Myrcella says. “I hope your country can find peace,”
“And what do you think peace would look like?” Robb asks.
“Well, Y/N tells me the North wants to be free,” The little princess looks to you, and you smile at you. “With what my brother has done...I think they deserve it,”
“Your grandfather thinks otherwise,” You tell the princess. “Fighting a war against the Young Wolf,” Your eyes lock with Robb’s ocean eyes.
“Wars are pointless,” Myrcella states, rolling her eyes. “People suffer and die because a few lords can’t act civil,”
“Not all lords are civil, princess,” You warn her. “Do you think your brother is good and chivalrous?” You ask.
Myrcella lowers her head, “No,”
“Enough politics, please,” Trystane begs his cousin. You smile at the boy. “I have an idea! Let’s leave,” He tells Myrcella. You laugh loudly at your cousin’s annoyance of you. “Y/N, leave us alone,” Trystane says, walking away with Myrcella in hand.
“She is marrying your cousin?” Robb asks you. You nod in confirmation. “So my visit to Dorne trivial,” If Myrcella is to marry Doran’s son, Dorne has secured an alliance with the Lannisters.
“No, your visit has not been trivial, Your Grace,” He wants to hear you say his name, not his title. “Your visit has been a gift,” He feels your soft hand take his. He’s never felt such warmth, and then he thinks of hugging you, holding you in some intimate way. “But I need to know if I can trust you,” Your soft hand cups his face. He hitches his breath and holds it — holding a gaze with your pleading, night-dark eyes.
“No, your visit has not been trivial, Your Grace,” You assure him. “Your visit has been a gift,” You take his hand in yours, desperate to touch him, any part of him. “But I need to know if I can trust you,” You cup his face, feeling his facial hair softly brush against your palm. You gaze into his gorgeous ocean eyes.
“And how can I trust you?” Robb asks.
You pull your arm away, and you see the faintest sign of disappointment in Robb’s face.
“What do you want to do with Myrcella?” You ask him. Despite your attraction to Robb, you cannot ruin your uncle’s decades-long plot for revenge. Your loyalty will forever be with your family, but if Robb’s heart is true, then perhaps Dorne can offer assistance.
“What?”
“Would you kill her? Her entire family is responsible for all the terrible things that have happened to you and your country,” You tell him. “Or would you take her away and bargain her life in exchange for your sisters? What would you do?” You demand an answer.
“Nothing,” Robb answers bluntly. “She’s a child. Children shouldn’t be punished for the sins of their father, or mother,”
“Or grandfather,” You say.
He smiles, “Or grandfather,”
The mood turns sour as reality sets in. Robb clears his throat and his face hardens. “My mother released the Kingslayer,” He confesses. You sigh. “She hopes the Queen regent will trade my sisters for her lover,” Him telling you this only makes the war real.
“She won’t,” You tell him, speaking to him plainly. “Having your sisters gives them power, an advantage in the game,” You explain. “Do you know what Tywin Lannister had the Mountain do to my aunt and her children?” You ask him. He shook his head, a stern look on his face. You sigh and touch his face again, cupping his cheek. “You —
“Princess!” Aeros shouts from not too far. You quickly move away from Robb. Aeros approaches you. “Your dancing master is waiting,”
While waiting for Prince Doran to call for him (or for you to drag him away elsewhere), Robb strolls throughout the palace. He’s never been good at waiting. Even in battle, Robb had never felt so worried. He certainly felt more confident with a sword in his hand. Westeros is at war, yet there are regions in the continent where there is calm.
“Robb!” Theon whispers. He stops and turns his head to see his friend waving at him. "Where have you been?” Theon asks, walking towards him.
“With the princess,” Robb answers honestly.
Theon smiles, “Well, look at you,” He chuckles. “Taking after your namesake after all,”
“None of that,” Robb shakes his head. It is true King Robert was a far better whoremonger than king. Robb could never be like that, and he’d never disrespect you in such a way. “And where have you been?” Robb asks Theon.
“Princess Arianne took me to the bazaar,” Theon says. “With a tour of the docks,” There was a hint of excitement in Theon’s voice. “Dorne has 100 ships ready to sail,” He whispers with a smile. “With a hundred more almost done,”
“You saw them?”
“I saw fifty ships near the bazaar, and Arianne tells me more wait along the coast. They’re ready to fight,”
“They plan to marry Princes Trystane to Princess Myrcella,” Robb informs Theon. “I saw the two in the gardens,” He says. “They seemed in love,”
“They’ve secured an alliance with the Lannisters?” Theon questions.
“Afraid we’ll inform the queen about your visit?” Your voice booms through the halls of the palace. Robb looks to you. He admires the attire that elegantly draped your body — a pale-orange dress with motifs of deep orange suns with a matching cape of silk cladded on your right shoulder . There is a playful smile on your lips, easing Robb’s nerves. “Have no fear, sweet boys,” You say, approaching Robb and Theon.
“Good news?” Robb hopes.
“My uncle wishes to speak with you,” You inform him. You extend your arm and wait for Robb to take it, “I’ll take you to him,” You smile. Robb takes your hand in his and feels a thrilling rush. You sprint away from Theon, farther into the palace.
Doran sits overlooking the gardens, with the sun slowly disappearing from the sky.
“My niece is a bright girl,” Doran speaks. His back is to Robb and yourself. “I trust her with my life,” The prince tells Robb. “With the lives our people,” He asserts his confidence in you. Feeling you pull away from him, Robb squeezes your hand in hopes you’ll stay. “What could you give us in return for our support?”
“Our enemies are the same, my prince,” Robb says. “Help me defeat the Lannisters, get revenge for our families, and you can have the Reach,” He promises, looking into your eyes, two pools of black ink. “Fight alongside me and you’ll have the most fertile land in Westeros,”
“You have proven yourself a capable commander,” The prince compliments Robb. "I will give you forty thousand men,” Doran pledges. “I trust you will put them to good use,”
“You have taken the Crag?” You ask Robb, who nods in return. “We’ll make the Westerlands rain with the blood of lions,” You say with fire in your eyes.
“My niece will command the southern front, twenty-thousand Dornishmen to protect our border, and then she’ll march north,” Prince Doran demands. You pull away from Robb and walk closer to your uncle, resting your arm on the back post of his chair.
“My niece will command the southern front, twenty-thousand Dornishmen to protect our border, and then she’ll march north,” Doran reveals to Robb. You let go of Robb’s hand and approach Doran’s chair. You smile and reach for your uncles hand, happy that you convinced him to help Robb.
If the Lannisters are beaten, and Robb helps you take the Reach, then when the Targaryens arrive to Westeros, Dorne will be able to supply their army with good crop. The downfall of Tywin Lannister will come one day, and you have faith Robb will continue to be victorious in battle.
“You honor me, my prince,” Robb says. “I thank you,” You can feel his eyes roaming your body. Your face feels hot, as it always does when you’re so close to Robb. You need to have him. A powerful commander with a pretty and youthful face — a king that entered your country asking for aid in a war that is hundreds of leagues away.
You want to feel his arms wrapped around you and feel his beard between your legs, but accept that your lustful desires are second to getting vengeance for the blood Tywin and his beast split.
“Gather your party, Your Grace,” Doran says. “Fifty ships will be ready to sail you back to the Crag when the moon is out,” He adds. Your uncle refrains from pledging Dorne’s entire military, which is sixty thousand strong with almost two hundred ships ready for battle. “Better hurry,”
“My prince, princess,” You hear Robb walk away, his footsteps echoing on the tiles of the Old Palace.
“It is difficult to see you leave, Your Grace,” You admit to Robb. He turns and sees you standing at the doorway. You grin and sprint towards him on the balcony overlooking the sea.
“You don’t have to call me that,” He tells you as you reach him. “I’m King in the North,” He reminds you. “We aren’t in the north,” Robb smiles walking towards you.
“It is out of respect,” You bow. “Robb Stark, the Young Wolf,” You say dramatically, and he finds your accent charming. “Wouldn’t want you to eat me,” You smile. He smiles. He’s never met quite a woman like you.
You look stunning in this last moments he has with you under the stars. He so desperately wants to kiss your lips, just once. “I will miss you,” You whisper, he takes steps closer to you.
“We will be together again soon, I promise,” He cups your face, holding you gently in his hand. You look at him with soft and loving eyes, like a kitten. “My kitten,”
For a moment, Robb wasn’t a king at war. He wasn’t the King in the North fighting the Lannisters. He wasn’t worried about rescuing his sisters from the lion’s mouth; because for a moment, Robb was a foolish boy in love with a princess.
summary: during a new years party at wayne manor, a drunk reader makes a move on clark. feelings long buried resurface, which leads to a clark breaking up with lois.
author’s note: i love chaos,, this was just a small and quick idea that popped into my head while working on another clark one-shot,,feel free to send requests!! clark does try to be a good boyfriend to lois buuut......still a soft!clark fic bc im pretty sure he gets manhandled in this???
tags: cheating, dry humping, intoxicated!reader, reader is kind of a maneater in this ngl, kinda angsty
They should have stayed home, that was Clark’s immediate thought upon laying eyes on you. The wind had been knocked out of him and he felt frozen in time as you approached them with a bright smile. Your dress fit your body perfectly, complimenting your shape in a sexy red faux leather mini dress, and then your eyes met. Dazzling and alluring. Clark almost forgot about Lois standing beside him, but she grabbed his arm and dragged him to greet you.
“Happy New Year!” Lois exclaimed as she went in for a hug. “Your house looks amazing by the way,”
“Thank you,” You chuckled and hugged Lois. “I didn’t think you’d be coming,” You kissed Lois’s cheek and withdrew from the hug. Clark knew you would go to him next. He knew it was just a friendly greeting, but he couldn’t keep himself composed if your body was wrapped tightly around his.
So, he extended his arm and went for a handshake.
Clark saw a flash of hurt in your eyes, which you quickly covered with a happy face, and he felt like he had been punched in the gut.
“Good,” You smiled. “Alfred and I spent too much time planning this for people not to enjoy it,”
“Where’s Bruce?” Clark looked around the room.
“My dear brother has locked himself in his room,” You said rather somberly. Again, the sadness in your eyes impacted him. Clark wanted you to be happy, and he needed to be the reason for putting a smile on your face. “Like a fucking child,”
Lois chuckled nervously, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. Clark takes a step closer to you, “Do you want me to talk to him? Try and convince him to come up?” He asked.
“No...I kinda want you to beat his ass,” You said, and you shared a small smile. “He knows how much this party means to me and doesn’t care enough to show up,”
“I’m going to get some drinks,” Lois said, wanting to leave such a personal conversation. After all, she and you had never been close. You met Lois through Clark, but Lois had written about you long before Clark became Superman. You’ve kept a cordial relationship with her, in the name of team bonding.
So, Lois quickly exited the scene.
“I’ll rough him up for you,” Clark chuckled and pushed his glasses up with his index finger.
The sudden alertness in your eyes should have told him not to follow you to the Batcave. When you grabbed his arm and interlocked your fingers with his, he should have pulled away, but he let you lead him deeper into the manor, away from the party.
Clark turned a corner, and you pushed him against a wall. The attack took him by surprise, but he didn’t fight you off. He felt your lips on his and melted. His mind went fuzzy. All he could focus on was you and the feeling of you against him.
He kissed you back. Desperately. Like you’d disappear and he’d never be able to kiss you again. Clark grabbed your hips and switched your positions — having your back against the wall as he thrust his crotch against your wet core.
Being so close to you made Clark delirious. He should have stopped it, but instead, he deepened your kiss. He tasted the tequila and weed on your tongue, which reminded him you weren’t in the right state of mind, and that completely shattered this little paradise.
“You’re so warm,” You slurred in a whisper.
“Y/N, you’re drunk,” He tried to hide his hurt. It wasn’t some confession of love from you. It was something fun for you to do while drunk, which broke his heart.
“Hmhmm,” You nodded. “And high,” You smiled. “Want some?” You tried to kiss him again. He turned his head to avoid your lips touching.
“We can’t,” Clark struggled to pull himself away from you.
“Because of Lois?” You asked.
“Oh, god, Lois,” Clark ran his fingers through his hair, panicking at the mention of his girlfriend. “I’m sorry,” He apologized. “I shouldn’t have let you do this,” He looked deeply into your confused eye.
“You don’t have to apologize, Clark,” You smiled. “I wanted to kiss you,” You took a step toward Clark, closing the space between you. “I want to do a lot more than that,” You added, reaching for his crotch.
“O-oh,” Clark whispered as your hands teased his hardened cock through the dress pants. You kissed his neck, and Clark shut his eyes. “Please, don’t,”
You immediately pulled away.
Clark opened his eyes but didn’t see you standing in front of him. He turned around, looked down the hallway, but saw nothing. Only when he used his enhanced vision did he see you had made it to the Batcave. He looked at his watch, which read 11:38pm and sped down to the cave.
When he reached the control computer, he could hear you crying. Bruce was holding you and looked at Clark with an angry expression. Your tears were his fault, somehow. Confused, but desperate to make you feel better, Clark approaches you.
“Lotta nerve making a girl cry on her birthday,” Bruce said callously.
It stung.
“You’re not not guilty either, asshole,” You punched Bruce’s shoulder.
“Ow, fine, I’ll leave,” He kissed your temple, “Love you, spider-monkey,” You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Bruce shot a death glare at Clark before exiting the Batcave to join the festivities.
Your eye makeup had smeared, with black tears running down your cheeks. You looked a mess, which Clark still found endearing.
“What’s wrong?” He asked in a soft tone.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” You hiccupped. “Soo I drank a lot really fast,” You continued, almost embarrassed to explain your emotions. “Because I really wanted you here and I felt sad but then you showed up and I got really happy and you look so good right now and I’m really drunk and—” To save you your breath, Clark kissed you.
He moved your hair, cupped your face, and passionately kissed you. He wanted this, you, for so long, Clark didn’t care it would inevitably hurt Lois.
You shoved him away and tears filled your eyes, “We can’t, remember?” Lois. “I’m such a horrible person,” You began to cry. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have done that to Lois,” Your eyes were red and puffy from crying.
Clark hugged you. He wrapped his arms around your body, tiny in comparison to his stature, and he just held you.
“I look good tonight?” Clark asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence.
You burst into laughter, and Clark was happy to see you smile again. “Yeah, like a sexy librarian,” Your eyes met.
“How long have —
“I don’t even know when it started,” You answered his unfinished question. “All I know is that I looked at you one day and I wasn’t afraid of it anymore,”
Right. The unspeakable ‘it’. You’d been so scared of falling in love with your best friend that you patiently watched him date another woman for nearly a year.
“But by then, it was too late,”
“It’s never too late,” Clark asserted. Despite his relationship with Lois, he didn’t feel at home. He’d never experienced a passion like you. Lois tried her best to keep him happy, but her efforts were pointless. “I love you, Y/N,” He confessed.
“I wanna fuck you so bad,” You blurted out.
“Dear God, woman,” Clark laughed at your explicit commentary. “I’ll break things off with Lois first, alright? So we can both try and keep some semblance of a conscience,”
summary: eddie encounters a girl with no soul one late-night while visiting mrs. chen’s convenience store.
author’s note: okay so i wrote and posted this a few years ago on a different blog just did a lil editing....basically reader is female ghost rider....requests are open 👀
With the death of Carlton Drake and the exposure of the sinister story behind the Life Foundation, Eddie managed to get his job back. His life would seem to be getting back to normal, expect for two things: Anne has no interest in being romantically involved with Eddie and Eddie is a host for a symbiote from another planet that very much likes to eat people — something Eddie is not 100% comfortable with.
“Hi, Mrs. Chen,” Eddie smiles as he steps inside the convenience store. It’s nearly one in the morning and Venom demanded chocolate.
“Hey, Eddie,” Mrs. Chen replies. “You look like shit,” She comments. Eddie hears Venom laughing. “Trouble sleeping?” She asks. Eddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods. "Mind and body,” She reminds him before placing a box of tea on the counter. “If meditation doesn’t work, this could also help,”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chen,” Eddie grabs the box.
“How’s Anne doing?” She asks.
“Still dating Dan,” Eddie informs Mrs. Chen as he heads to the back of the store for some snacks that will satisfy the alien symbiote living inside him. “Thanks for the reminder by the way,” He says and hears Mrs. Chen chuckle.
“You’ll find someone, Eddie,” Mrs. Chen assures him. “It is just a matter of time,” She states. “And taking care of yourself,” She adds.
“Yeah, yeah,” He mutters, looking through the aisle of junk food.
"And what are you doing out here so late in the night?” Eddie hears Mrs. Chen ask in a rather scolding tone, so she couldn’t possibly be talking to him. Eddie decides to look over the short aisle and spots a woman walking to the counter.
“Do you judge everyone entering your store at night or am I just lucky?” The stranger asks with a humorous tone.
EDDIE, THERE IS SOMETHING HERE. SOMETHING...DIFFERENT.
“What are you talking about?” Eddie whispers as he continues shopping.
“I judge everyone,” Mrs. Chen replies and Eddie hears the stranger laugh.
“Love you too, Chen,”
THAT GIRL. SHE HAS THE DEVIL IN HER.
“What?!” Eddie shouts loudly, causing the two women to turn their heads and look at him. “Oh...w-wow, there’s 1% milk? Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Eddie says, chuckling awkwardly, trying to seem somewhat normal. He avoids eye contact with the two women, staring intensely at the milk section.
There’s something wrong about him, the Spirit whispers in Y/N’s head.
“Try the oat milk,” The young girl speaks up, and Eddie turns to look at her again. “Lotsa protein, fiber, and iron, and it’s way better for the environment than cow milk,” She states. “You do care about the environment, don’t you?” She questions.
Unable to utter a single word, Eddie simply nods and the girl smiles at him. They make eye contact for a few seconds before she turns her attention back to Mrs. Chen.
He’s not a sinner...but something inside him isn’t right.
“So, what can I help you with, Y/N?” Mrs. Chen asks.
EDDIE...SHE HAS NO SOUL.
"Lemme get two pre-rolls, indica,” Y/N plants a hundred dollar bill on the counter.
As Mrs. Chen grabs the pre-rolls, Y/N steals a few glances at the strange man in the gray hoodie, trying to figure out what that man is. With the Spirit, Y/N could easily analyze anyone; it tells her who the sinners are and allows her to see a person’s soul.
The strange man’s soul appears torn — Y/N can see light trying to shine through the darkness that surrounds it, almost struggling. But, the Spirit hasn’t condone the man to death, so he’ll remain an obscurity until it decides to send him to Hell. For his safety, Y/N makes a note to keep away from the strange two-souled man.
The sound of the pre-rolls hitting the counter made Y/N quickly turn her head to face Mrs. Chen, who was smiling smugly like she caught Y/N redhanded, staring at the man in the gray hoodie.
“His name is Eddie,” Mrs. Chen whispers with a quick wink.
“Err,” Y/N feels slightly uncomfortable with the Mrs. Chen’s presumption; however, she had been ogling the man so Y/N can’t blame the older woman. After all, she had been trying to set Y/N up with someone for as long as they’ve known each other.
“That’ll be $36.78,″ Mrs. Chen says much louder than her previous statement.
“Uh, keep the change,” Y/N tells Mrs. Chen, and before Mrs. Chen could protests, Y/N runs out of the store.
Eddie watches as the strange girl rushes out of the store.
WHAT IS SHE, EDDIE?
“I don’t know,” Eddie mutters as he walks up the the counter. Through the shop window, Eddie can see the girl get into her car, a bright yellow hellcat charger.
As Mrs. Chen rings up Eddie’s odd items, she tries to play matchmaker. “You got the oat milk,” She comments.
“Wha — oh, uh, yeah,” Eddie says awkwardly. “She, uh, she made some good points,”
“She is Y/N,” Mrs. Chen smiles smugly. “Bit of a firecracker, that one,”
Eddie’s eyes light up, “You know each other?” Maybe Mrs. Chen could help him makes sense of what Venom was saying. Mrs. Chen nods. “How? I mean, how long?” He quickly asks.
“Ah, going on four years now? She moved down here from Los Angeles and was living in her car right outside my store,” Mrs. Chen explained. “She saved my life,” She puts all of Eddie’s stuff in a paper bag. “That’ll be $17.48,”
Eddie grabs his wallet and pulls out a twenty, “She saved your life?” He questions, handing Mrs. Chen the bill. How could she have no soul, Eddie thinks to himself.
SHE’S...EMPTY. SOMETHING SINISTER SLEEPS INSIDE HER...I LIKE IT.
Well, if Venom likes it, it doesn’t fill Eddie with any sort of joy. Venom also likes to eat people.
Mrs. Chen simply nods and gives Eddie his change.
“Have a good night, Mrs. Chen!” Eddie runs out of the store just in time to see the hellcat make a right turn. So, he gets onto his motorcycle to follow Y/N, the girl with no soul.
“Everyone has a soul,” Eddie says three miles into following Y/N, and from the looks of it, she’s heading to the bridge.
NOT THAT ONE.
She didn’t like being followed, so having the strange man from Chen’s store trailing her put her on edge. Instead of waiting to get to her hideout, Y/N lit one of the pre-rolls and took a big hit before resting her arm on the car door. With the windows down, the smoke would hit Eddie.
Through the rearview mirror, Y/N watched as Eddie tried to swat the large amounts of smoke going his way and she laughed.
After a few more useless turns (she wanted to waste a bit of Eddie’s gas), Y/N parks at the hideout she managed to find, surrounded by trees and water and no one would ever think of looking. Unless she was being followed.
Instead of exposing the entrance to her ‘cave’, Y/N stands beside her car, smoking her joint and waiting for Eddie to reveal himself. “Don’t be scared now,” She calls out with a taunting grin.
“Should...should we talk to her?” Eddie whispers.
AND IF SHE IS A REALLY BAD PERSON WE CAN EAT HER!
“No!”
YOU SAID WE —
“There you are,” Y/N smiles. Fire consumes her. Her skin melts. Her skull is exposed, burning with Hellfire. The Spirit of Vengeance comes alive, and it smiles, dropping the joint in Y/N’s hand.
“Holy sh—”
CAN NORMAL HUMANS DO THAT?
“No! Normal humans don’t do that!” Eddie hisses.
“This will be a lot easier for you if you just come out,” Y/N takes steps toward Eddie, and the man is full of fear. She can sense it. It makes the Spirit smile.
Eddie runs out in the open with his hands in the air to show Y/N he means no harm. Venom instantly tries to pull them back down. “Let me do this,” Eddie whispers and puts his hands in the air as he walks out of their hiding stop. “I’m los—”
“What are you?” She cuts Eddie off from the half-assed excuse he was making up.
“Oh, I’m, uh, I’m Eddie Brock,” Eddie says nervously. He’s terrified beyond belief at the horrifying sight in front of him. That sweet girl from Mrs. Chen’s convenience store had a skull on fire. He just watched her skin melt! “Freelance reporter...?”
The fiery skull moved from side to side, indicating Y/N’s not satisfied with his reply. “What is inside of you?” She restates. “It sees two different parts of a soul,” Y/N explains, taking steps closer to Eddie. “You’re torn in half, Eddie,”
The fire fades from her skull, and Eddie watches as skin regenerates and Y/N pretty face is visible again.
PRETTY FACE, HUH?
“I can see it in your eyes, and it can see it in your soul, you’re wired all wrong,”
“It?”
“Why’re you following me, huh?” She doesn’t care enough to answer Eddie’s question. “The man that brought down the Life Foundation can’t be a complete fucking idiot, can he?” She asks, tilting her head with a small pout on her lips.
She can feel something different in him. Some evil and wicked. The Spirit is telling her to kill it, screaming at her that there is a sinfully beast inside that man, yet Y/N does not feel that danger. She can only feel Eddie’s pain.
Venom can’t take it anymore. “We,” He takes control, consuming Eddie’s body until there is nothing left but black biomass. “Are Venom,” Venom says menacingly, expecting the girl to be consumed by fear and shaking at the towering creature before her, but she’s in complete awe.
“Eddie is my host,” Venom informs Y/N. “And I come from a different planet, far from here,” He states, giving her more information, per Eddie’s request. “And we are soulmates,” Venom declares.
The Spirit demands Y/N to kill the symbiote; it’s a sin that needs to cleansed with fire.
“Astonishing.” She mutters, refusing to follow through the Spirit’s demands. Before Y/N can ask Venom anything, Eddie returned.
Kill it! Kill them!
The black biomass disappears quickly until there’s nothing left but a fleshy and attractive 5'9 man in an ugly-ass hoodie. “Not so astonishing,” She comments.
“So...that’s what we are,” Eddie says.
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re following me,” Y/N crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow in suspicion.
“He said you had no soul,”
“He’s right, now what? You gonna kill me?” She tauntingly asks.
“How? I mean...what happened?” The image of her fiery skull is lasered into his eyelids, and Eddie is positive he’ll be having nightmares of Y/N.
“I sold my soul,” She said nonchalantly. Normally, Y/N would never be so open about her story, but Venom shared something about it and Eddie, so it only seems fair.
“To the devil?” Eddie came from a very religious background. He was raised as Roman Catholic, and when God abandoned him, Eddie forsook his faith. The chance of the devil being real terrified Eddie — filled him with decades of Catholic guilt.
“He was the only one that was buying.” Y/N says with a look in her eyes that tells Eddie she’s not joking. A few seconds ago he saw her skin melt with a fiery skull to replace her smooth and beautiful skin.
“What are you?” He asks in a whisper. Eddie want to know more. He wants to know everything about Y/N. She calls to him. The first time their eyes locked, Eddie was entranced.
“I’m a host, like you Eddie, only a demonic spirit bonded with me, not an alien symbiote,” She smiles, acting if it’s the most normal thing in the world. As if Eddie’s entire worldview hadn’t been shaken. “But you aren’t right, Eddie,” Y/N tells him. “The Spirit’s tellin’ me Venom is a sin, a sin that needs to be cleansed,”
KILL HER, EDDIE. KILL HER BEFORE SHE KILLS US!
“What spirit?” Eddie questions, ignoring Venom’s crying.
“The Spirit of Vengeance.” Y/N replies. “It feeds off pain and vengeance and wants to kill every sinful creature on this planet.” She explains.
“You kill people?”
“Almost exclusively,”
“Oh, God,” Eddie whispers, causing Y/N to smile.
“Do you plan on stopping me?” She asks. Maybe he thinks himself a hero, Y/N thinks to herself and the Spirit. Eddie notices fire behind her eyes, and the skin on her left cheekbone catches fire. She’s ready for a fight. A fight Eddie isn’t sure he can win.
THAT’S INSANELY HOT.
You have to stop, Eddie mentally groans at Venom’s comments.
I BET SHE TASTES DELICIOUS.
For the love of —,
GOD?
Eddie shuts his eyes, tired with everything — especially Venom’s comments about the woman in front of them.
Venom snickers at Eddie’s troubles.
“I don’t want to kill you or Venom,” Y/N asserts. “I won’t,” She appears to promise, despite the Spirit’s demands. “Eddie Brock just happens to be my third favorite reporter,” She smiles. “Wouldn’t have found Sin-Eater without you,” The heartwarming and teasing smile turns sadistic.
“Wha—you killed him?” He asks, shocked at the revelation. After Eddie had revealed Sin-Eater’s identity, he completely disappeared. When the police arrived at Stanley Carter’s apartment in New York, there was nobody there, and he was presumed to be on the run. Guilt consumed Eddie for years, believing it was his fault for Carter’s escape.
“Well, I couldn’t let him live,” Y/N replies. “For what it’s worth, he begged,” Eddie’s eyes meet hers. “He begged and cried for forgiveness, even as the Hellfire burned him,” She explains.
Eddie looked at Y/N with awe. Completely delirious and sleep-deprived, Eddie mutters, “You’re an angel,” Eddie spent nights praying Carter died before he could hurt another soul. With each unsolved murder, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if they had been victim of Sin-Eater. He blamed himself for years, hated himself for selfishly revealing Sin-Eater’s identity, and now Y/N enters his life to relinquish Eddie of his guilt
“And you’re not as bright as I thought,” Y/N shakes her head. “Venom, go home,” She orders, desperately wanting to return to her bed before returning to work. With any luck, she’ll never run into Venom and Eddie the reporter. “And stay the fuck away from me,”
“Thank you,” Eddie says with sincerity, taking Y/N aback.
“For wha–?” Before Y/N can finish her sentence or before Eddie would say anything, the black biomass consumes Eddie’s body and Venom greets Y/N with a toothy grin.
“WE LIKE YOU,” Venom confesses Eddie’s thoughts of Y/N before disappearing into the night.
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summary: ben solo is brought back from the dead by a force-sensitive pirate and is given the opportunity to start a new life as part of her crew.
author’s note: hdjfkj i love the idea of a pirate!reader so here is my contribution,, so this takes place a few weeks after the battle of exegol in which the first order was defeated ,, if you’ve played jedi fallen order than reader’s ability is exactly like cal’s ,, lmk what you think :)) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Isao muttered as he navigated the ship through the wreckage. The ruins of Star Destroyer fleets decorated Exegol, evidence of the New Republic’s victory. And There was so much to loot! You chuckled. The Scorpion landed near a weird-looking throne. It was so dark that Isao landing the Scorpion was a miracle.
“Well I see a very fun trip to Canto Bight in our future,” You said with a smile and ran out of the cockpit. It had been a while since you last visited the city and partook in the activities of wealthy individuals. You so desperately wanted to gamble and drink credits away, so you quickly strapped your belt on and grabbed a blaster before exiting the ship. Nori ran after you.
“Canto Bight? I thought we were going to Jedha and see the remains of the Jedi temple there,” Nori expressed disappointment with your desire to return to Canto Bight. She had become obsessed with learning more about the Jedi after learning about your Force sensitivity.
“Jedi Temples don’t have open bars,” You reminded your Twi’lek friend, “or casinos,” Nori sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to be plastered and gamble,” You smiled. “No need to get ourselves involved in Jedi business,”
You’ve known about your connection with the Force your entire life. You were a member of the Blazing Chain — an organization of nomadic raiders made up of Force Adepts that wandered Unknown Space. With no loyalty to the Sith or Jedi, the Blazing Chain simply utilized their Force abilities to make raids easier. Three wars occurred, and each time, for better or for worse, the Blazing Chain remained neutral. You had no intention in breaking that tradition.
As you walked, you found a cube. The strong fog made it nearly impossible to see, but your foot gently kicked it. A faint blue glow radiated from the cube and you felt a compulsion to pick it up. You knelt down, and as your fingers touched the cube, a scene played back in your head. And then, a blinding white light.
“Ahh, dank farrik!” You shouted and crawled away from the cube. Nori ran to your side.
“What happened? Are you okay? Did it happen again?” Nori asked frantically. By ‘it’ she was referring to one of your ‘echo episodes’ in which an object gives you a memory by touching it. You were one of two adepts cursed with that ability from the Blazing Chain. It was referred to as a Force Echo.
“I’m fine,” You groaned, feeling a sharp pain in your head. “That kriffin’ holocron was part of the battle here,” You informed Nori, crawling back to the cube. It wanted to be opened and only you could do it.
“Whoa,” Nori marveled at the unique gold design on the cube. You held the cube in your palm of your hand and closed your eyes. Within seconds, the holocron levitated and opened. “That is so cool,” Nori muttered.
A white ball of energy emerged from the holocron. You opened your eyes and a bright white light shined. You appeared possessed, and it terrified Nori. She screamed. You began muttering words in a language she couldn’t understand.
The energy ball dispersed. The holocron closed and fell back onto your palm.
“What the kriff was that?!” Nori exclaimed. You stood up, completely unfazed by the recent possession.
"No clue,” You told your friend.
A tall man dressed in black emerged from the fog. The light from the Scorpion beamed on the man. He was very pale and bloody. His black sweater bad a large hole and was absolutely filthy-looking.
You would not be caught dead wearing that.
“We don’t want any trouble, um, sir,” You attempted to de-escalate the interaction. The holocron must be worth thousands and there was enough on the Star Destroyers to share with the beaten-down man.
“Do you know who I am?” The odd man asked.
“Oh...um, no?” You replied. You looked to Nori. She shook her head.
“Where did you get that?” The man looked at the holocron in your palm.
Immediately you tossed the cube to Nori, who put it inside her bag. “Get what?” You played dumb. “Do you need any help? A new outfit perhaps?” You asked him, looking at the large tear on the chest area of the sweater.
His right hand reached for the hole in the sweater. His fingers touched his bear chest. He stared blankly at you, “I’m lost,” He felt a strange comfort when looking at you.
It was you that gave him life.
“Well you are in luck!” You said with glee. “We are pirates and there isn’t anywhere we can’t go,” You informed the stranger. As a child you learned all the best traveling routes to bypass First Order and New Republic checkpoints. With the power struggle and chaos that followed the fall of the First Order there was no better time to be a pirate.
“Coruscant,” He replied rather quickly. With Alderaan destroyed, his mother would be buried at the capital. Coruscant had been in open rebellion against the First Order, and he was certain the New Republic would restore peace.
Your smile dropped, “Coruscant? Why would you want to go there? Are you part of a gang?” You questioned and reached for your blaster. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” You said cautiously.
“What do you have in Coruscant?” Nori asked, aiming her blaster at his head.
Truthfully, nothing. Kylo had nothing.
“Where are you going?” He asked you, and your smile returned.
“The Smuggler’s Moon,” You replied.
Kylo remembered hearing Han mention Nar Shaddaa throughout his childhood. It was an entire world filled with pirates and outlaws. It was also the homeworld of the Hutts. Leia would threaten Ben with a visit to Nar Shaddaa when he would not behave. It terrified him as a child.
“Got some people that might be interested in that glowing cube,” You mentioned.
“You can’t sell that!” Kylo exclaimed. Both women took a step away from him, but they weren’t scared of him. They appeared rather annoyed with his outburst and demand.
“First of all, I’m the captain, so watch your tone,” You pointed at him, unamused. “Second of all, I can sell whatever I want,”
“That cube is an ancient Jedi artifact,” Kylo informed you.
“Oh, well in that case,” You smiled. Kylo smiled too then, believing he had convinced you to keep the very thing you used to bring him from the dead. “I know just the Hutt to sell this to,”
His smile dropped instantly.
“Are you a Jedi?” Nori questioned.
Was he a Jedi? Ben had been a padawan when Snoke tainted his mind. He spent more years of his life as a pawn for the Sith than he did as his uncle’s student. He blankly stared at Nori before his attention returned to you.
“Doesn’t matter,” You answered the question for him. He was beyond grateful for your reply. “The cube is getting sold, and you, my friend, have three options,” Ben knitted his brows and slightly tilted his head in confusion. “You can remain lost on this hellish planet, I sell you, or you can join my crew,”
“Why?” Kylo asked. Kindness was not virtue he experienced often. There had always been strings attached to the kindness of others. Snoke disguised his actions as a way of helping Ben. Oh, how stupid the mind of a child is.
You had already done more than you knew — you brought him back to the land of the living, unknowingly it would seem. Offering him a spot on your crew was you giving him a chance to truly live. Joining your crew would also give him a chance to figure out how you gave him life.
“Tall, broad-shoulders beast like you, figure I could sell ya for some pretty New Republic credits,” You smiled, taunting Kylo.
“Isao said to hurry up or he’s going to leave without you,” A B1-series battle droid exited from your ship. The droid was in pristine shape, despite its mismatched torso and right arm. "I don’t know if he was being serious,” The droid added.
Nori walked toward, “I’ll hold him off,” Both she and the droid boarded the ship. “And I’ll adjust your sarcasm setting,” Nori smiled at the droid.
“So, what d’ya say?” You asked him. “Roger could use help cooking and cleaning,” You laughed as the words left your lips. You were filled with genuine happiness. Kylo could feel it, and it was intoxicating.
He gave you a simple nod, “I will join your crew,”
“Great, do you like Canto Bight?” You asked and began walking toward the ship. Kylo was hesitant to follow you. You felt his hesitancy and stopped walking to face him.
Kylo studied you for a brief moment. Nothing about you screamed danger, but he was almost certain your hands were drenched in blood. “I’ve never been to Canto Bight,” He replied and took steps towards you. There was so much Ben had yet to see. So much of the galaxy still left to explore, and somehow, you blessed him with the breath of life.
“Oh, you are in for a treat, big guy,” You stated, more than happy to show off your favorite vacation destination. “But first we are gonna need to buy you some clothes,” You said and boarded the ship. Kylo followed after you, and the scent of burnt cookies touched his nose.
“Sorry!” Roger apologized, attempting to get rid of the smoke by frantically waving his arms.
summary: after months of obsessing over a senator, bucky is given the opportunity to save her. he then visits her in the hospital
author’s note: warning, warning, this will feature aspects of the u.s government,,, \\ lil bit of fluff and mentions of torture ,, just a kidnapped senator and bucky pining ,, requests are open :)
The security footage of your kidnapping at the fundraiser was leaked to the media. Millions watched as a prominent U.S senator was ambushed and drugged before being dragged into an unmarked vehicle. Bucky’s heart ached. “We’ll find her,” Sam, well-aware of Bucky’s infatuation with you, promised his friend.
Bucky was unprepared to find you in the state that you were, bloody and bruised. There was a cut above your eyebrow and blood dripped down your face. Your skin was riddled with red and purple. The metal cuffs around your wrists and ankles dug into your skin and caused you to bleed. There was track marks on your arms and your knee didn’t look too good either.
You looked nearly unrecognizable — almost nothing like the senator that so adamantly advocated for his pardon.
“Captain?” You mutterly weakly, barely recognizing the two figures near the doorway. The drugs they pumped into you fucked with your vision and made you feel absolutely sick. You could barely keep your eyes open. Everything hurt and you shivering from the lack of warmth.
Sam quickly ran past Bucky and his fingers searched for a pulse on your neck. Weak, but it was something. Once up close, Sam could see the multitude of track marks on your skin and his fingers gently touched them, causing you to cry, something that completely shocked you. Zemo had stopped giving you water a few days ago.
“We’re going to get you out of here, senator,” Sam pulled out a Widow’s Bite, which he had secretly stolen from Natasha, and used the electricity within the bite to override the power source of the cuffs.
When the cuffs opens, you were released from the vertical interrogation chair. Before you fell on the concrete floor, Bucky quickly reached out to catch you.
“Fuck!” You shouted and startled Bucky. You bit your lip in an attempt to silence your pain. After weeks of absolute hell, you were sensitive to touch. Tears filled your eyes and you weren’t strong enough to hold them back. “It hurts,” You whimpered. You felt sick. Cold and weak and wanting to puke but having nothing in your stomach to regurgitate.
A protectiveness he had not felt since before the war consumed Bucky. Seeing you so weak and in pain filled him with both anger and the need to make you feel better. Your big, soft, and tear-filled eyes awakened his primal instinct to defend and protect.
He acknowledged there was still something wrong with him, because even in the state that you were in, Bucky wanted nothing more than to press his lips against yours and hold you against him.
For a short second, while looking down into your eyes, the world was quiet.
“C’mon, man,” Sam urged them. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be in here when the timer goes off,”
“Alright, alright,” Bucky agreed. “Um, can you run?” He looked down at you again. You were smaller in person. The television must make everyone look like titans. On the screen, you had such a larger than life presence. Whether it was asking questions during committee hearings or speaking out against a bill, you were imposing.
“She can barely stand,” Sam answered before you. With all the drugs in your system, you were nearly unresponsive. “Pick her up and let's go!”
Once they reached the C.I.A medical facility, Sharon told a room full of reporters that the senator had been found and was being examined by professionals. She did not give too much information, which was typical for intelligence agencies.
By “being examined by professionals”, Sharon meant you were undergoing surgery because whatever was injected into your body caused you to go under septic shock. She omitted that part, not wanting to give the public further cause to worry.
After the surgery, only family was allowed to enter your hospital room. Some of your staff was able to bypass that rule. You were still recovering, but your top aide, Winnie, had begun planning your first public appearance.
“You’re a certified badass now,” Winnie informed you, and it made you chuckle. Winnie had been by your side since you were a congressional freshman and you loved them to death. “The corpses will have to show you actual respect now,” They smiled, referring to your coworkers as corpses gives them a bit of joy.
“I’m sure Stern will find a reason to call me a traitor to the country,” You replied. Your strong opposition of the intelligence agencies earned you a lot of enemies.
“Yeah, well, he’ll — ”
The door had opened and there stood a “Hi, sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Bucky stopped at the doorway. He was holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact.
“Sergeant Barnes,” You smiled. Bucky looked to you, and he’d never seen or heard anything as beautiful. He had heard you say his name a thousand time over, but hearing it in person was just swell.
“Bucky’s jus’ fine, senator,” Bucky returned a toothy grin. You swear you had died and gone to heaven. He was even more beautiful in person.
“Bucky,” There was a shine in your eyes when you said his name. His name sounded so pretty coming from your mouth.
“O-kay,” Winnie chuckled and their eyes bounced between yourself and the soldier, who was just a few feet away from them. “I’ll be back tomorrow to hash out the details,” They turned to look at you and gave you a small peck on your head. “Be careful,” It was a warning.
Bucky stepped into the room, allowing Winnie to easily slip out.
Now that the blood and dirt had been washed out, Bucky could truly admire how striking you were. You were glowing. There were still bruises and healing wounds but they didn’t diminish your beauty.
He set the flowers on the visitor’s chair.
“I wanted to properly thank you and Mr. Wilson for saving my life,” You told him. He took a few more steps towards you. “W-Winnie has a press conference planned once I’m discharged, and there might be a Medal of Freedom in your future, after the Congressional Gold Medal, of course,”
“What?”
“Yeah,” You smiled. “It took a little bit of convincing but the bastard caved eventually,”
Of course you had recommended him, and Sam, for such prestigious awards. It was further proof that he had been vindicated from the dark part of his history. You helped profoundly in his path to finally accepting himself, and for that, he would always love you.
When the nightmares returned, Bucky would rewatch your old speeches for the campaign to pardon him. He felt pathetic — having to listen to a woman he had never met before passionately advocate for his freedom in order to feel better. You saw him as human, worthy of forgiveness.
“I know they’re practically worthless in the age of superheroes, but I thought I would be nice,”
It would be nice. “Thank you,” His smile slowly faded as the conversation took a serious turn. “For everything, the campaign and the pardon and now these medals,” A breathy chuckle escaped. “I...you never attended the ceremony,” He commented on your absence during his pardon. It had plagued his mind for countless nights.
“I wasn’t invited,” You chuckled at the irony of it — having spent months working for his freedom only to not be present to watch it happen. “A picture leaked of me at a protest in college and they thought it would be too controversial for me to attend,” You shrugged it off.
Ensuring Bucky’s freedom was all that mattered. Your acknowledgement was not important to you in the greater scope of things.
“I’ll make sure you get invited this time,” Maybe you could give a speech before he’s awarded the medal. He could finally be present to hear you praise him.
Bucky’s eyes lingered on your lips. Your nervousness returned. There was a distinct look in his eyes that terrified and excited you all the same.
“Senator, time for your medication,” A nurse entered the room and pushed a cart with her. There was an IV set, some pills, and a cup of water on the cart and all that medicine made Bucky feel anxious.
He was well aware of the dangers of so much medicine and he was scared. He couldn’t afford to lose you now. Not when he finally has you within his grasp.
“The pills help with the pain and the IV gives me nutrients,” You noted the panicked look on Bucky’s face when he saw the cart. “Or so they claim,” You looked at the nurse, who was not entertained by your accusatory comment.
“I should head out,” Bucky nodded. “And allow your drugs to be administered in peace,” You laughed, and he was quite proud of that.
Feeling bolder, Bucky took a few final steps toward you. You offered your hand and he lightly held your wrist, stilled bruised, and bowed down to kiss your hand. It was a small and sweet gesture, but it left you an absolute mess. You held your breath and felt your heart in your throat.
Bucky admired you once more before leaving the room. He nearly memorized how you radiated in spite of the harsh cold white light that illuminated the hospital. In that moment, he was certain you’d be his.
summary: boba fett reminds a former jedi knight of old friends.
author’s note: ifjkdfms,ds idea popped into my brain and thought it’d be a nice and short angsty one shot,, this for all my clones simps,, basically reader fought in the clone wars and fell in love with a clone and seeing boba makes her emotional
When Boba Fett removed the hood and demanded the armor Din had taken from Cobb Vanth, it triggered memories of a different time. A much simpler time. Oh, how you longed for it. Memories flooded back in your mind and caused you to freeze. The “simple man making his way through the galaxy” had the face of an old friend.
During the fight with the troopers, you could barely focus. Seeing Boba’s face made you feel like you had seen a ghost. You were once again fighting alongside a familiar face — like you were taken back to the Clone Wars. It terrifies you how much you longed for that era.
You and Din boarded Boba’s ship, Slave I.
And when Boba spoke, stars, he sounded exactly like your clone commander. You had heard his voice a thousand times before. It was all so confusing, and you were transfixed on him.
While in hyperspace, Boba began repainting his armor. Fennec decided to get some sleep, and Din attempted to do the same.
Your eyes filled with tears as memories of the Purge resurfaced. Your legion turned against you. The men you had grown to care for during the war, who attended your knighting ceremony, attempted to kill you. They were filled with pure hatred and you were forced to kill them.
“You fought during the Clone Wars.” Boba had not asked a question. He simply stated a fact and focused entirely on getting the red markings on the helmet perfect. As you watched Boba, you remembered when Rex would scratch marks on his helmet after a battle.
“And you look like them.” You replied. There was no malice in your voice. Just heartbreak.
“Someone in particular?” Boba asked.
“A commander. We had grown up together. Kind of. I never really understood how those Kaminoans structured the age acceleration.”
“I hated the Jedi.”
“Most clones did after the order was given.” During your travels, before meeting Din, you had encountered Ahsoka — the young padawan that was wrongly convicted of treason and exiled from the Order. It was before the completion of the first Death Star. When she told you of Rex’s survival, your heart filled with pure joy.
“I am not a —” Boba stopped himself. For a brief moment, he had revered back to an old childhood defense. “The Kaminoans didn’t modify my genes. Jango Fett was my father.” He asserted. Jango called him a son. He had raised Boba, until the purple saber wielding Jedi killed him.
“He was a special specimen.” You stated confidently, and Boba chuckled. “The men cloned from him were excellent men. The GAR...they were family. I trusted them with my life.” The humor Boba found in your awkward statement disappeared. “And for the record, I hated Master Windu,”
Boba chuckled, “Oh, yeah?”
“Sometimes it felt like his allegiance was to the Galactic Republic, and not the Jedi Order. His lessons were extreme to say the least. I remember there was once an assassination attempt on the master, and the padawans joked about it succeeding.”
“Demented little fuckers.” Boba found himself smiling once again. Perhaps he would one day reveal that he was in fact responsible for the attempt on Windu’s life. Boba had posed as a clone cadet and rigged the Jedi’s quarters to explode.
“Yeah, well, we were soldiers.”
The ship landed and within minutes, Din had collected the newly appointed marshall.
“Quite the team you’ve assembled, Mando.” Cara commented upon meeting Boba and Fennec.
“It won’t be enough.” You had stated. “The troopers that took the kid looked extremely advanced.”
“Maybe if you used the force it’ll give us a fighting chance.” Cara shot back. Her animosity toward you was no longer hidden. She hated you for not joining the Alliance to Restore the Republic.
“It doesn’t work like that.” You informed her. “I cut my connection years before Alderaan was destroyed. It’s not like flipping a switch. It takes training, and I haven’t had that in decades.”
After the Purge, you severed your connection to the force to hide. It made it impossible for the Inquisitors to find you. Instead of joining the Alliance, you utilized your skills gained from the war to become a bounty hunter.
“She knows her way around a staff.” Din stated. “Jedi or not, Y/N is a good fighter.” You befriended the lonesome bounty hunter not long after Karga hired you.
On the way to pick of a New Republic prisoner, you found yourself alone with Boba. He was finishing the paint job on his helmet and admired his work.
“You loved them.” He stated. At first, Boba thought the idea was outrageous. Clones were created to be cannon fodder. They were soldiers, expected to follow orders and die when asked. How could a Jedi, forbidden from any attachment, love a clone?
A small chuckle escaped your lips. “Before the war ended, I began advocating for the creation of a division that would help clones transition from soldier to civilian.” You spent days speaking with senators Amidala and Organa about the idea. “I realized there was no intention on helping them because they were just instruments of the Sith.”
Boba saw you cared deeply about his father’s clones. It must pain you to look at his face. It pained him. The reflection that stared back at him looked older than Jango was; the scars he gained from the pit made Boba look less and less like his father.
“Your face is strangely comforting.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” Boba chuckled.
Your eyes met his and a smile formed on your lips.
summary: din has an encounter with a semi-unhinged new republic pilot.
author’s note: an idea that popped into my head while watching chapter 10 ,, bored new republic pilot reader. WARNING, reader really likes murder
With the fall of the Empire and the rise of the New Republic, anarchy has reigned king. Five years have gone by and remnants of the Empire continue to appear, though sparsely. Each passing moment makes you question your decision of taking such a boring job. The recruiters said you would be helping restore the Galactic Republic and they made it sound exciting. Now, you're a glorified bounty hunter for the New Republic, and it’s been months since you last shot down a TIE fighter or encountered Imperial troopers.
If there are any Imperial holdouts left, they’re well hidden and small. The only crafts you’ve encountered are those of beings that simply forgot to run the beacon. Which appears to be the case right now, as you spot an old ship to your right. You try to get in contact with the pilot of the craft but there is no response.
You fly closer to the craft, “Y’know, I have no problem shooting down this craft. It’d be a serotonin boost.”
That would be a lot of paperwork, though. On the off chance that the craft is not Imperial, you’d be suspended and an investigation would begin. Come to think of it, the New Republic has taken the fun out of your threats.
“Hello? Come in?”
“This is Razor Crest. Is there a problem?” The pilot of the craft finally responds.
“Looks like your transponder isn’t not emitting.” You comment.
“Yes, I’m pre-Empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon.” He replies.
He is very cautious with his words. You take note of his hesitance to emit the transponder. He’s hiding something. When creatures see an X-wing, they are compliant, it’s one of the best parts of the gig, but it this pilot has no respect for the New Republic.
“Yeah, that was before. Y’know, when the white devils patrolled the galaxy.” You remind him that times are different. “And, unfortunately, there are rules now. All crafts are required to run a beacon. Makes it easier to identify Imperials.”
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get right on it.” The Razor Crest pilot gvies you an insincere thanks.
“Safe travels.”
“May the Force be with you.” The phrase feels empty coming from the pilot. He’s probably never even met a Jedi. There is not too many of the left.
“And I’m gonna need you to send me a ping if you see any Imperial holdouts.” You silently hope to find a couple TIE fighters. Shooting those ugly spheres makes you feel alive. No drug or partner has been able to make you feel like that.
“I’ll let you know if I see any.”
“Still waiting on that ping.” You remind him after a few seconds of silence.
“Well, I’m not sure I have that hardware online.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that bullshit excuse before. Try harder.” You’re no longer entertained. You’ve already begun checking off items in the Rules of Engagement the New Republic officers forced you to memorize after a few accidents.
“I...Doesn’t seem to be working.” He sounds a bit defeated, and it makes your smile.
“Awe, that’s too bad. If I can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow me to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs.” You follow the procedure.
“Oh, wait. There is it. Transmitting now.” You hear some clicking from his end a a voice. “Be quiet.” The pilot hushes, earning your curiosity.
“What’s that?” You ask.
“Uh, nothing. The...hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold.”
“Yeah, uh, give me a minute. Wait or I shot ya down.” That is most definitely an abuse of some power. Oh, well. He won’t be around to file a complaint.
You change channels and contact Wolf. “What did you say the antique ship at the prison was called?”
“Uh, Razor Crest. I think. Why, what’s up?” Wolf asks as your lips form a mischievous smile.
“Because I’m about to add another tally mark on my wall.” You respond. “Over and out.” You return to the channel with the Razor Crest pilot and switch your X-wing to attack mode. The wings of the ship scissor open.
“Now, answer honestly.” You warn the pilot. “Was your craft in the proximity of the New Republic Correctional Transport, Bothan-Five?” You ask.
Instead of replying, he takes off. You laugh and immediately follow the Razor Crest. “This is turning out to be a great day.”
You chase the Razor Crest to the icy planet of Maldo Kreis. Watching the ship struggle to fly in the harsh weather almost made you pity the pilot. It also made you laugh. A lot. “It’s not even funny.” You say to yourself, tailing the Razor Crest.
The snowstorm makes difficult to follow the Razor Crest, and you lose it after a couple minutes of high-speed chasing. “The adrenaline is certainly up.” You smile to yourself as the speed of the X-wing reduces. It seems only murder can boost the serotonin levels.
Wolf keeps you company during your search. He does further research on the ship, running tabs and checking the security footage. How he got the clearance for that, you’ll never know. As it turns out, events at Bothan-Five happened differently than described in the daily report.
It takes you nearly half an hour to find the Razor Crest. It’s surrounded heavily damaged and by hundreds of spider-looking creatures. You take the opportunity to practice your aim and use your blaster cannon to clear out the spiders.
Within seconds, they’re all dead. You unlock the canopy and hop on the edge of the ship. You have your blaster rifle aimed at the only possible exit for the pilot of the Razor Crest. “I just wanna talk.” You shout.
A Mandalorian takes small steps out of the gaping hole in his ship. He’s showing you his palms and has his blaster facing up. You haven’t seen a Mandalorian in years. Like the Jedi, there are not too many left.
“Toss your weapon, Mandalorian.” You look through the eye scope of the blaster rifle. Now, he is very compliant.
“What are you smiling about?” The Mandalorian questions.
“Power play.” You respond. “Just the last time I ran into a Mandalorian I was the one with the gun to my head,” You inform the stranger.
“You’ve met other Mandalorians?” He asks with a tone of hope in his voice.
“One.” You respond honestly. “I’m technically a contracted bounty hunter. For the Republic. It’s a bureaucratic mess. We don’t get any benefits. Honestly, I think it’s destined to fail, so I have a side hustle.” You ramble. “Had.”
“The Mandalorian?”
You shake your head. “I’m the one asking the questions.” You remind the Mandalorian pilot. “I ran the tabs on your ship. Looks like you’ve got an arrest warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-Six-Nine-Eleven.”
“However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is that true?”
“Am I under arrest?“ The Mandalorian asks.
“Technically, you should be.
But I don’t really care.” You shrug. You drop the blaster rifle on your seat and hop off the ship.
“Happy to see the galaxy is being protected by stable minds.“ He says sarcastically.
“Protected? Try being held together with glue and tape.” You chuckle.
“What say I forego the counties on these three criminals, and you help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?” You laugh at his proposal.
“What say you fix that transponder and I don’t murder you the next time I’m patrolling the Rim?” You smile and hop back down into your seat, setting the blaster rifle aside and bring down the canopy.
You’ve got a feeling that won’t be the last time you encounter that Mandalorian.
