11 for Léowyn and Bronn from the kiss prompts? <33
Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.
Love, or the Beginning of it
Léowyn is not used to the northern cold, she wakes up to find Bronn still asleep, holding her as she wonders if that which they shared might be called love.
50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompt. TYSM for sending this, it immediately sparked an idea so I decided to make it a “sequel” to my previous yap about how they got together, I hope you like it! 🫶🏻
The cold ripped her from her slumber, biting into her back and shoulders where the covers had shifted leaving her skin exposed. She instinctively searched for warmth, shifting closer to the man still sleeping besides her. Bronn was warm, she had no idea how he managed to retain warmth in such an environment when she was still shivering even buried in a mound of blankets.
As if he had heard her silent complaining through his sleep, he lazily brought the covers up to where her skin was left bare before resting his hand on her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead, then another on her brow. As she tilted her head up to meet him she felt another kiss on her cheek and let out a little laughter at the feeling of his beard ticking her soft skin.
They both chuckled as their lips finally met in a proper kiss. It was not the first time Léowyn had kissed the sellsword - far from it, in fact - yet it felt like a first time to her, like a beginning. It was a soft kiss, almost chaste, his lips gently pressed to hers in silent worship, the lips of a man who had likely never worshiped anything in his life now revering her as if she was the Maiden herself, with care and tenderness and… Love, even?
Did she dare to name it so?
She had known love before, and when it had gone she had closed her heart to it as to not betray the memory of it, as to not betray herself. What she had known with Bronn she had refused to call love, even as her fierce hatred for him had simmered down, even as she had begun to find comfort in his company to the point of craving it. They had shared kisses hungry and ravenous and touches that seemed to tear their skin apart and leave them bare heaps of smoldering bones and still Léowyn guarded her heart like a dragon its treasure but now it had changed, she had shared the broken pieces of her past and unexpectedly he picked them up, and it was too late for her to get them back now.
He had told her that they could decide, they could build something over the scattered ruins or even somewhere else, wherever they wished. He had promised her more than she allowed herself to hope for, and for perhaps the first time since they had known each other he seemed completely and utterly honest, like he let go for once of the sarcasm she had come to expect from him, and despite herself Léowyn found she trusted him, and perhaps that was love after all, or the beginning of it.
When he climbed out of bed a disappointed sigh escaped Léowyn’s lips as she found herself immediately missing his warmth, she opened her eyes to give him as sideways glance as shifted into the spot he had left vacant bundling herself into the blankets. He smiled at her as he put his clothes on and started heading for the door.
“I’ll get something to break our fast with.”
“I’m coming! Give me a moment to get dressed!”
“You better get some more rest, you’ve a daughter to look after now! I’ll be back with honey cakes for you both!”
They don’t quicken this fast! She wanted to yell after him but he was already out of the door, she laughed to herself as she settled back underneath the covers and waited for him.
Dividers / pngs by: @chrisssiren, @lavendergalactic and @lupineshieldmaiden
Adalia thought she could have used a couple extra hands.
Pairing: Godrick the Grafted x Adalia (F!Tarnished) | Tropes: fluff, mutual pining, confession | WC: 1788 | Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood / gore / idk if grafting counts as self harm
Crossposted on AO3
Note: this is one of my first ever fics, it's super silly and I'm just posting it here for funsies and to keep all my oc stuff together!
It was a completely silent morning in Stormveil, the apprentice graft surgeon had decided to wake up long before the first rays of the sun began piercing through the thick cloak of clouds that usually surrounded the castle, her sleep had been restless, the idea nesting in her mind would continuously rip her from her slumber so the woman decided that she would wake and be done with her project before anyone could find her. She left the warm comfort of her bedsheets and went to her wardrobe, searching for a while before she found what she was after: a worn and tattered dress, the very one she was wearing when she first approached the castle, it was perfect for what she intended to do, as she would never wish to ruin the preciously decorated dresses so kindly gifted to her by Lord Godrick, but that old rag surely she wouldn’t miss. The minute shadow of the woman began walking the endless corridors of the castle, changing route multiple times to avoid crossing paths with the guards, missing the company of the Lord who didn’t mind carrying her from time to time especially when having to go from one end of the castle to the other, admittedly she could have used the help of the giant demigod during her journey but alas she didn’t want him to know of her plan before she was done with it.
The grafting room had changed significantly since her arrival at the castle, when she entered she was not greeted by scattered limbs and the smell of rotting bodies, instead she walked in on a large room with tables where the polished tools were neatly placed, she made it a point that every surface and utensil in the room was to be properly cleaned, and would often contribute to do so herself. She used the little magic she was capable of to light the torches and chandeliers in the room before proceeding to the cold cellar she had built below to preserve the limbs used for grafting, now she only needed find a pair of suitable arms, perhaps those of the tarnished sorceress that had recently fallen in battle? Adalia carefully examined them, they were about the size of her own arms, the hands were fine and elegant, accustomed to casting spells which she deduced could prove useful, very well then, she made her decision and went back to the bigger room laying the arms on a table along with the utensils she would need.
In that moment it dawned upon her that she would have to go through the whole procedure alone, with no aid, completely awake and with nothing to alleviate the pain, she began wondering if the arms would keep sort of a mind of their own as Godrick sometimes joked they would. Enough hesitation, she mentally scolded herself and began slicing her skin in the spot where the new arm would go, beginning the agonising process of grafting herself, she took several pauses as sometimes the pain proved to be unbearable, she breathed and then carried on connecting the muscles of her new limb to her body and securely stitching it in place, once she was finally done she allowed herself a longer rest and that’s when the gatekeeper found her at last.
“Lady Adalia, there you are!!”
The friendly voice bringing her back from her world of pain, the gatekeeper’s face turned to a frown once he saw her, exhausted and bloodied.
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere- What have you done?”
He barely finished voicing his question when he was grabbed by the woman, who fixated her jade green eyes on him with her most intimidating look.
“Godrick must not know I’m here, nor what I’m doing, do you understand?”
He gave a nod.
“I need you to distract him, but first I am going to need more thread to finish my work, could you bring it to me?”
With another nod Gostoc left the room and she returned to her silent suffering.
She tried to move her new arm a little, only a finger, she felt her muscles pulling, a sharp pain stabbing through her shoulder but she did manage to move the arm’s index finger, she would need to get used to it, to make those muscles stronger in order to properly move but she did it, it was a success. Relishing in her accomplishment Adalia became impatient to finish her work so she could proudly show her Lord what she was now capable of, the feelings of excitement rushing through her making her forget about her pain altogether and eager to continue her work, if only the gatekeeper would be back with the thread she needed. Waiting for so long was maddening, she never had exactly a patient personality but now it was even worse, she began wondering if the gatekeeper would ever be back at all, what if he had decided to tell Godrick about her secret project? She didn’t know what they would do or if they’d try to stop her, she could only wait while a new feeling of anxiety began gnawing at her, biting at her stomach, she could only wait and pray to the Erdtree that the gatekeeper would be back soon without having told anyone.
The room’s door made a creaking noise as the woman noticed a smell reaching up to her, the smell of a hearty meal: Gostoc had returned with food.
“Can’t be grafting with an empty stomach, you’ll pass out!”
She didn’t even notice how hungry she was, devouring what her friend had brought in mere minutes while repeating how thankful she was.
“You are the best!!” She said, squeezing the gatekeeper in a hug with what little strength she had in her three limbs “what is the plan now?”
We distract the Lord, I spread a voice that a tarnished is attempting to sneak in, not a soul will bother you, I promise!
She could hardly hold back her laughter thinking about how the gatekeeper would fool everyone in the castle, fortunately for her he was a bloody good liar.
“I have the feeling you’re going to have some fun. Thank you Gostoc.”
Once he left she returned to her work, knowing what to a little better from the previous arm she just needed to repeat the process on the other side, she began cutting, making space, connecting what had to be connected, adjusting her body to the new limb while pausing as often as necessary to rest. It was still an awfully painful procedure but she was able to go about it more quickly and precisely this time, fuelled by her impatience and stubbornness. When she was finally done she realised she had lost track of time, she looked in a nearby mirror as she tried to clean herself of the blood that was on her hands, arms, even a little in her hair, it was a futile job, but blood aside she liked what she saw in the mirror: an accomplished graft surgeon apprentice, with four arms that would be of great help in her work once she would learn to properly operate the newer two, that for the moment she was only able to move a little.
Immensely proud of herself Adalia exited the room intent on showing off to Godrick what she had done, so eager that she forgot of her pain and fatigue and almost ran through the castle in excitement, sneaking past the eventual guards, door after door across the labyrinth of Stormveil that by now she almost knew like the back of her hand, searching for the demigod. Once she had found him she practically sprinted towards him waving her four arms.
The Lord’s look when he turned to her was not what she initially expected, an expression of worry painted on his face as he saw the woman covered in blood and dressed in rags, his mind going through the thousand of scenarios in which she could have found herself in danger.
“For the Erdtree, what happened?”
He asked picking her up, Adalia winced at the wave of pain he had unknowingly caused her, it was only a moment later that he noticed the two extra limbs, he held her new hand in one of his, looking at her in awe.
“You did this?”
She could only smile back at him proudly, now that was the reaction she was hoping for. Initially he could not believe that his apprentice successfully grafted herself on her own with no help whatsoever but thinking about it, with how incredibly smart and determined she was it made perfect sense how she could manage to do that, and oh how much he admired her. His golden princess, his brilliant graft surgeon, they had grown so close that his hearts would ache whenever he was away from her Grace and still he dared not tell her, fear clawing at him every time he tried, fear of what she might think of him in truth. But now it was different, now that she had made herself similar to him he began feeling more comfortable in her presence as if perhaps now she would not scorn him - not that she ever did.
“For what reason?” He asked in almost a whisper.
“It’s practical! These will help a great deal with my work and besides, I believe they look quite magnificent, does your Lordship not think so?”
Magnificent. She thought of her grafted self as magnificent. If that was so then perhaps she didn’t think of him as lowly as he believed, perhaps…
“You truly are magnificent, a skilled surgeon honoring this castle with wits and grace and…”
He paused, looking fondly at her, unsure of what to say next, she now held one of his grafted hands in hers as she waited for him to finish his sentence.
“… I wish you would do me the honor of becoming my consort.”
There, he said it, it was not exactly how he pictured it but had he not found the words now he would have never been able to later on, once it was done he could do nothing more than prepare himself to face her rejection but in fact nothing in the Lands Between could have ever prepared him for her reaction.
She lit up, so much so that he was under the impression that she would outshine the Erdtree itself, her face so radiant with happiness that the demigod became lost in his admiration of her, unable to process what was happening even as she shifted closer to press a delicate kiss on his cheek.
“I would be most happy to do that.”
Dividers and pngs by: @solitary-serendipity, @lupineshieldmaiden and @honeyluvsw
For Irenni and Arueshalae: 1 / 8 or 43 (or all three if you feel like it) ✨
thank you!!! I'm not sure how canon this fic is for them—I do know Irenni's Arue romance goes a little bit differently than the way it's presented in-game, but I still haven't fully worked out the details—but it was very fun to write & I do think they are very cuties here :3
What do you dream of?
The question sticks, heavy like duty and unyielding like hope, to the roof of Irenni's mouth, and keeps her tongue glued in place. Avoiding Arueshalae's earnest gaze, she smiles a tight little smile (so insincere she can barely even hold it) and puts a hand against her traitorous heart, which races with the answer her mind wants to keep quiet. I dream of you, darling, you and your smile and your eyes and your great and terrible hopes. I dream of you because I cannot have you.
"Not much, I'm afraid. I haven't been sleeping well as of late, and when I do, I don't really dream. But I suppose I ought to be grateful for that, no?" Her laugh, a butterfly's dying rattle, flutters out of her mouth weakly, more a shaky exhale than anything else. "Desna only knows that my dreams, were I to have any, would be full of... of..."
"I understand," Arueshalae replies and—oh, her kindness, her warmth, Irenni wants to take all of it in and have it burrow against the fragile of her bones. "These are such troubled times. But... I will pray to the goddess, still, for her to return your dreams to you, Irenni. Good ones. Happy ones." Something about her voice becomes frantic, almost, and Irenni can see how Arueshalae's hands begin to tremble; perhaps she, too, longs to touch so badly that the wholeness of her is shaken by it. "It is one thing that I should be deprived of it, but you... You are mortal, and... and that is your world. It belongs to you."
"It's quite alright, Arue, please don't fret on my account." Resignation comes easy to her, these days. It unfurls from her unfittingly bright and loud, like the golden wings at her back, but it's alright, it's alright, it's always alright, I must go on. "When this is over, I'm sure I'll dream again, and then I'll tell you all about it."
When Arueshalae smiles, it's as if the sun had come out, piercing through the plague-red skies of the Worldwound. Irenni feels it on her skin, radiant and life-giving, and again she needs to clutch her chest, again she needs to swallow her tears and her love until they tear at the tender skin of her throat. If she were to open her mouth now, she'd spit out blood—or even worse, the truth would crawl out unbidden and doom them both.
"I look forward to it," Arueshalae says, oblivious to Irenni's inner conflict, and she can do nothing but nod in return.
Arueshalae stands in her usual spot, half-cloaked in shadow and snow, her hands—which she once would fold primly and fearfully in front of her—idly tracing patterns in the air. When Irenni comes close enough, she can hear her singing the song of Elysium in a quiet hum, and it takes her breath away. Every word she had carefully planned fades from her mind, as though carried by the harsh winter wind of Drezen, and all she has left is a raw want that scratches its way down her chest.
"I lied to you," she blurts out, and hates herself for it when Arueshalae's humming stops all of a sudden and her hands half-drop towards her waist.
"I... Pardon?"
"I'm sorry, I... I just... I couldn't..." Irenni takes a deep breath, and draws even closer to Arueshalae, who gives her a look that is somewhere between bewildered and concerned. "When you asked me what I dream of."
"Oh! Irenni, please, don't feel bad. If you didn't want to tell me—"
"I did. I do." Another step, until their hoarfrost-laden breaths nearly intertwine. "I dream of you, Arue. Then and now." With the utmost gentleness, as if she were made of glass, Irenni takes Arueshalae's hands—which still hang limp in the air—and places them over her chest, where her heart is beating so fast it might as well take flight.
Arueshalae sucks in a sharp breath, and her skin blooms a beautiful pink, warm like a sunrise against the stark white of snowy Drezen. When she smiles, shy but full of joy, Irenni's heart doubles its frantic pace, this time spurred on by the once-stifled hope that begins to grow within her.
"Then and now," Irenni repeats, in a whisper, and, with the same tenderness as before, brings Arueshalae's hands up to her lips. A kiss on her palms, first, then on the back of each hand, then on her knuckles, and lastly on the tip of each finger. A crystalline giggle escapes Arue—its music reminiscent of the bell of Desna—surprising even her, and when she dissolves into bursts of bubbly, giddy laughter, Irenni can't help but join in. As she laughs, she continues kissing all over Arueshalae's hands, and with each touch of Irenni's lips Arueshalae's blush grows more and more, until she's practically glowing.
"I dream of you too," she says, jubilant. "Of us. When I said my dream was to live amongst mortals, I was thinking of you, Irenni. A life with you, peaceful and calm, where we can just be. I... All this time, I thought I was just fooling myself; that you were being a good friend, and kind as you always are, but that it couldn't possibly mean anything other than that. I didn't dare hope you'd feel the same way I do...!"
"I didn't dare hope you'd feel the same way I do, Arue," Irenni replies, and their shared laughter grows until passers-by turn to look at them. Sheepish, Arueshalae lowers her head and tucks her chin against her chest; but Irenni can see she's still grinning, and when she looks up at her from between her long lashes, her heart overflows with love.
"We are awfully silly, aren't we?"
"Awfully," Irenni agrees, and kisses the back of Arueshalae's hands again.
Outside their little world, the war for the Worldwound rages on, merciless—but Irenni feels that, as long as they continue to dream together, everything will be alright.
Godrick invites Adalia to what’s totally not a date because he’s absolutely not in love with her!!
Pairing: Godrick the Grafted x Adalia (F!Tarnished) | Tropes: fluff, mutual pining, first date | WC: 1869 | Content Warnings: nothing crazy, Tarnished gets drunk
Crossposted on AO3
Note: this is one of my first ever fics, it’s super silly and I’m just posting it here for funsies and to keep all my oc stuff together!
Golden light filtered through the windows of the library, the afternoon went by as the scholar took notes from the Lord of Stormveil’s lesson, she had been studying the theory behind grafting for a while now since she managed to convince the demigod to allow her in the castle, everyone in the Lands Between described it as a place from nightmares but in reality she didn’t find it to be so awful, on the contrary she was beginning to feel quite at home there and its lord, Godrick the Grafted, was not as monstrous as most people made him out to be - at least not to her - of course he had treated her coldly when she first arrived but the more they spent time together studying the more he was beginning to get used to her presence to the point where they would speak to each other almost in a friendly manner.
The lesson was interrupted by the gatekeeper Gostoc, who had now become a good friend to Adalia, he walked up to the lord to talk to him but the young woman couldn’t quite grasp what they were telling each other, all the secrecy of course raised a suspicion but she decided not to interrupt, after a while the gatekeeper left and Godrick turned to her once more.
“We shall end our lesson prematurely today.”
She gave him a questioning look, indicating that perhaps an explanation was needed, so the demigod let out a chuckle before clarifying.
“I would be most delighted if you joined me for dinner later this evening.”
Her questioning look turned to surprise at those words, not an unpleasant surprise, after all she did enjoy spending time with him despite him initially keeping her at arm’s length - and multiple arms at that - still Adalia wondered the reason for such a sudden invitation.
“To what do I owe the honor?”
An unexpected question, and there the Lord hesitated like she had never seen him do before, she swore for a moment she could almost see the faintest tint of red appearing on his face as she struggled to restrain a slight amusement.
“Think of it as… a reward for a brilliant apprentice.”
Adalia couldn’t help but smile, feeling proud that the hard work she has done so far was being recognised, after being dismissed she made her way through the castle hallways and back to her chambers to the large and quite cozy room that belonged to her, as she entered with the intention to drop on the mattress and remain buried in the blankets for a bit of rest she found a red dress neatly folded and placed on her bed, which she unfolded to reveal it was embroidered with golden thread and decorated with precious stones. It must have cost a fortune she thought, a dress fit for a noble lady, if it was another reward it was a great one indeed. After bathing she proceeded to try on the luxurious garment which seemed to fit perfectly, the fabric was soft and warm and she couldn’t tear her eyes from the intricate embroidery, she spun around watching the dress move along with her, she gazed at the mirror for some time unable to recognise herself in the reflection until she was brought back by the sound of knocking at her door.
“It is only me! May I?”
Gostoc, she opened the door and let him in.
“You wore the dress I see! Splendid!”
They both laughed as the gatekeeper bowed in front of her like she was royalty, Adalia’s laughter getting only louder as she learned the reason for his visit.
“I was tasked by the lord to properly style your hair.”
“My hair??” she kept chuckling “do you know how to do that?”
“Do you mistake me for a hairdresser?”
“It’s alright,” she said wiping a tear “thankfully, I think I can manage that myself.”
She began carefully braiding her golden locks into a more complex hairstyle while the gatekeeper observed her, they kept talking and making jokes until the woman finally asked the reason behind the invitation.
“Do you know why Godrick wishes to dine with me? And why this dress suddenly appeared in my room? Come on, you can tell me!”
“I’m afraid not dear. My best guess, the Lord’s attempting to court you.” He replied, laughing once more.
“Quit jesting!” She raised her voice, throwing a small cushion at the gatekeeper who promptly managed to dodge it.
“I think I’m done, lead the way!”
Adalia began making her way through the castle, following the lead of her friend, the more she wore the dress the more comfortable she started feeling in it, walking down the hallways in it was beginning to make her feel as if she was an actual lady, which she really didn’t mind to say the least, it was almost like she was exactly were she was supposed to be, like she belonged to the castle. She began wondering again why everything was so different from the stories she had heard? Did it even matter? At the end of the day she was happy, she was learning a lot and she was also in good company, besides, she was to be treated to a fine dinner and a most entertaining evening.
Once they entered the room the young woman was surprised to find it so immense and finely decorated and… empty, for whatever reason the Lord had not arrived yet so the gatekeeper helped Adalia on a chair that was almost as tall as her, so that she could sit at the gigantic table, before disappearing out the door where they came from, leaving her alone.
Her eyes darted across the room admiring the paintings, the brocade curtains adorning the window, wondering about the castle’s history and the lavish gatherings that that room could have once held, but now there was only her daydreaming at the table.
Heavy steps heading her way brought her back to reality, steps who could only belong to someone of impressive stature: the Lord of Stormveil had finally decided to join his guest. He stopped right behind her, Adalia didn’t have the time to question it before a pair of hands made their way around her neck holding something, a golden pendant with the symbol of the Erdtree etched on it, she couldn’t help but smile at the precious gift.
The demigod sat not too far from her and that’s when she decided to break the ice.
“My thanks for the invitation, truly if you weren’t the Lord of Limgrave and I a simple surgeon, I would think you were trying to woo me, your lordship!” She said with a chuckle, thinking about what the gatekeeper told her before in jest.
He didn’t know how to react to such impertinence, how dared she speak to him in a such a manner? Had it been anyone else they would have regretted it by now but she, she was the only one who didn’t mock him or think lowly of him, to her he was not a feeble demigod or a monster, she was the one who had always shown him genuine respect. So be it, he would allow her this one mischief, and perhaps more. Besides, he enjoyed the sound of her laughter too much, it filled the empty halls of the castle as well as his hearts. He caught himself smiling for a moment and quickly recomposed himself.
“What makes you think so, exactly?”
She placed a hand on the golden charm that he had just gifted her.
“This perhaps, or the luxurious dress I happened to find in my chambers…”
Godrick lifted his chalice, that a servant had filled in the meantime, gesturing towards the woman.
“It suits you magnificently, if I may.”
Adalia felt her face turning to a scarlet hue, but really she had no one to blame but herself for this, she attempted to hide her embarrassed smile behind a hand and thanked him, looking at him from behind her golden lashes all the tales she had heard seemed so far from the truth, in fact before her there was a man knowledgeable, well spoken, a nice host, how all those stories originated was beyond her. During the course of the evening she had asked him to tell her some real stories, the demigod was at first taken aback by such a request as the people who showed interest in what he had to tell were not many but after a bit of convincing he began recounting and so time went by between anecdotes, chalices of fine wines, delicious dishes and the melodious sound of Adalia’s laughter, which increased significantly upon hearing about Godrick’s flee from Leyndell, it was the first time someone found the tale amusing rather than cowardly.
“Your lordship wearing a woman’s garments? I would certainly love to see that!” She took one more sip from her chalice while giggling. “That must be a sight to behold…”
Were it anyone else they would’ve become grafting material soon after, but her, her tone hid no mockery and there was no malice in her sweet gaze, as odd as it was she seemed to actually like being in his company just as much as he had grown to accept and even crave hers, finding it more and more difficult to banish her from his thoughts, painful as they were for he was aware that she couldn’t possibly love him. He awoke from his hypnosis just in time to prevent the lady from falling from the high chair, clear that she had one too many chalices of wine, although he himself was not doing much better than her.
“I believe we both should head to our quarters, ‘tis late and we’ve much work to do tomorrow.”
The woman looked down from her spot and then back at him again, the room had started to spin around her and she had no intention on climbing down the chair herself only to risk breaking her neck, an understandable fear, after a moment of hesitation the demigod carefully picked the lady up and went to place her on the ground where she simply refused to be put down.
“Quite the stubborn thing you are.” He jokingly reprised her, speaking for the first time in an affectionate manner.
“So I’ve been told…”
Now reprising himself for such foolishness, what had he thought? Talking in such a manner and now carrying the bull headed woman through the halls of the castle, what happened to him? Such attitude did not befit a Lord, but still he held her. Proud of her small victory Adalia sat comfortably in his arms until she gave up on trying to fight off sleep and fell into a deep - however drunk - slumber, knowing herself safe in the embrace of the demigod who made his way through doors and corridors careful not to wake her.
Upon reaching her chambers Godrick quietly opened the door and went to tuck the sleeping beauty in many warm blankets, once safe from the cold he left her to her dreams, wishing that the morning come soon so he could see her once more.
For Léowyn and Bronn (or any ship of your choice!), 5 from the kiss prompts?
Throwing their arms around the other person's neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.
After the Heat of Battle
Or, Léowyn finding Bronn after he was almost turned to cinders by a dragon.
From 50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompt. Thank you for this prompt, I hope you don’t mind me getting a bit carried away!
The quiet that fell on the battlefield at the end of the fighting had always seemed odd to Léowyn, she should have gotten used to it by now but the deafening silence would never cease to make her uneasy, as if the world was holding its breath and unable to draw in the air allowing it to grow thick and dense.
Now Léowyn was also holding her breath as she scanned the dragon-scorched area in the hope to see any sign of Bronn, unable to find him no matter how frantically her eyes searched around her. They had been separated as the fire breathing behemoth descended above them and the sellsword was thrown from his horse, she had tried to catch up with her mare, to shield him from the worst of the blows as he found his footing again but eventually she lost him in the chaos.
If he had got himself killed- What? What would happen? What was he to her? The solace she had found at night and would punish herself for in the morning? The drunken company that drew words from her lips she should have kept to herself? The sole person she had left to listen to her after the departure of her best friend and her brother? The pretend knight who stood against every value she held dear?
A part of her wished she had let the dragon singe him and the other, against her better sense, would not stop torturing her until she found him, dead or alive.
Suddenly a movement caught her eye by the edge of the river. She struggled to make out the figure clearly. Was he waving at her?
“LÉÉÉOWYYYYYYYN!!!”
She ran past corpses and scorched ground and blood, ignoring the burden of her armor and the aches in her limbs from the blows she had taken, almost falling as her boots became stuck in the mud before throwing her arms around him with a force that almost sent them both in the water.
“Missed me so much, my lady?”
The look she gave him was enough to shut him up, instead he hugged her tighter and kissed her desperately, drinking from her as if she was the fountain of life, searching for her scent of orange blossoms buried beneath the layers of grime and blood but still ever present and intoxicating.
His hands tangled in the bright red waves of her which her braid couldn’t keep into place, he knew she hated having her hair messed up but he could deal with her fury later, all he wanted to do now was ravage her as much as the field they were standing on and besides, he had come to love her furious. As if she had read his thoughts Léowyn deepened the kiss, leaving him breathless and drunk on the rush of adrenaline and lust, she could have consumed him and he would have gladly accepted her destruction.
A shout brought them back to reality as they turned to see the blond one handed knight.
Jaime fucking Lannister.
Léowyn pierced the intruder with a sharp, bone chilling look. Bronn had lost count of the times he had seen that stare - and of the times he had been its target - yet he never ceased to remain awestruck by the beauty he saw in her wrath, and he hoped he never would.
A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.
A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.
An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.
Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.
Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.
French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.
Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.
A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.
A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.
Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.
Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.
Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.
A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.
A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.
One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.
Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.
Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.
One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.
Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.
A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.
A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.
A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.
Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.
Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.
Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.
Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.
One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.
Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.
Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.
Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.
A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.
An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.
Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.
An awkward kiss given after a first date.
Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.
Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.
Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.
Kissing tears from the other’s face.
A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.
Kisses shared under an umbrella.
Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.
A kiss pressed to the top of the head.
Tentative kisses given in the dark.
Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.
A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.
A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.
One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.
Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.
A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.
😂 What’s the dumbest thing they’ve ever laughed at for way too long?
🔒 What’s a secret they’ll take to their grave?
🎭 Do they wear a mask in public? What’s the real them like underneath?
For Elaenys
Giggling and kicking my feet because it’s my first Elaenys ask and I’ve been yearning to talk more about her! ILYSM 🥹🫶🏻
What’s the dumbest thing they’ve ever laughed at for way too long?
Can’t think of anything specific but it’s most likely a jape she or Boremund made at Aemon’s expense, and everyone has moved on but Elaenys is still giggling about it half an hour later as she and Boremund look at each other from across at the table in absolute mischief.
What’s a secret they’ll take to their grave?
Her magic. She’s spent her lifetime studying and researching and yes even practicing ancient valyrian magic but not in an effort to preserve it for the future, her endeavours are mostly selfish and the fruit of her passion / obsession and the only person she has shared her knowledge with was her daughter Elenei who does practice and carry on some of her mother’s magic but most of it was kept a secret that now rests with Elaenys in her grave.
Do they wear a mask in public? What’s the real them like underneath?
Somewhat, it’s not that she wears a mask but she only allows her husband to see her more sensitive and vulnerable side. To most people she’s the daring princess who escaped on a wild dragon, the cunning sorceress whose confident mask never cracks, she’s willful and radiant and strong but only Boremund sees her more difficult side, the side that’s still grieving her twin sister Daenerys, the side that cries for she wishes to be close with her family yet feels like there’s this chasm between them, even her children have rarely seen Elaenys cry.