Through the madness of the royal mail postal service.
Through the miles of vast green fields.
Through the dusty roads and paths.
Though the knee-high snow.
Through the intensely cold blizzard.
Through the air raids.
Through the mines.
Thought the bullets.
Thought miles of cold, wet trenches.
Though many men are in various states of wellness and mental stability.
Though dirt and damp.
All to finally reach the little quarters they were addressed to.
"Timothy Latimer!"
"Hum?" I asked poking my head out of the little bunker
"Mail," he says
"Ohh thanks" I smiled, taking the box inside and sitting on my little green bed, box in hand. I noticed immediately the sweet handwriting on the box I happily got my knife opened it up and revealed the sweet contents immediately I took the sweet hand knitted red scarf in hand long enough to wrap around me twice and still have space to snuggle with the wool so soft and cosy against my face with all her cute extra little stitches that always make everything so beautiful. I grabbed the little flowery tin and opened it up immediately and I was hit by the smell of her fruit cake. I stuffed one into my mouth, overwhelming my senses after months of porridge, crackers and dirt. I stopped myself as if not I would have eaten the whole cake. I dug deeper into the box and saw the little letter that I happily opened up
'Dear Timothy,
I miss you terribly, I had hoped you'd be home by now but I know the struggle goes on. Even if I desperately wish to see you again. The only time I ever get to see you anymore is in my dreams and I savour every single second of it. I wish you hope and joy, and I wish you health and safety. I hope you enjoy the cake I baked for you, The wool was from Lilli on the farm as I know she has the softest wool and I spun it all special for you before I knitted it. And I added a sweet extra gift for you.
Love Y/n’
I smiled as at the bottom of the letter was a sweet picture of her in her adorable nightie I wrapped my new scarf around me tightly and took the tin of cake out to the other boys so everyone in the trenches got a taste of her sweet cake too, and when I headed back in I laid on my bed and looked at the sweet picture of her on our bed in her adorable nightie with her signature a kiss and the sweet words
[ premise: your a handmaiden to lady margaery tyrell, your lady and your lover. it is the morning before her wedding to joffrey. as you adjust her wedding dress you two have a moment]
The hallways were filled with excited laughter, each red stone of the red keep warmed by the sound of nymph like creatures preparing for the wedding. Blonde, brown, red and raven haired maids spun through the halls carrying perfumes, jewels, gifts and general merriment.
It was not everyday, after all, that a fairytale became real. That the physical embodiment of The Maid married the noble Warrior. So all sung and danced as if apart of a courtly play. It was a falsity.
You stood against the wall of the finery that was the bride to be’s room. A false smile played on your [size of lip] lips. Years at Highgarden had taught you that. Your eyes, however, could not lie instead they were cold, seeing every excited maid as a damn fool. Could they not understand whom they were damning?
Lady Margaery Tyrell, sweet Margaery, was indeed The Maid reborn. Her eyes were the colour of aquamarines, that always shone with some form of mirth - real or fake. Her beauty did not end at her eyes, no she had hair the colour of a deer’s pelt with highlighted layers of brown that twisted into delightful ringlets. Ringlets which at night would dangle over her shoulder catching in candlelight.
Her husband to be, however, was no warrior. No he was a twisted man with toxic green eyes that always appeared twisted. For all false displays of bravado you imagined yourself to be able to see through them all and see the snake underneath. He took no trouble when it came to ordering this knight killed or this maid beaten. At this moment King Joffrey may be in love with her but it was an hourglass filed with sand. He would grow bored or erratic or mad like the Dragon kings that once inhabited this wreck of a capital.
[hand size] hands twisted the fabric of your delicate crushed lilac dress. No amount of show in the form of lilac dresses, [hair colour] braids, silver bracelets and earrings adorned with chips of amethyst could make you swallow the poison in-front of you.
A fear clenched your heart, that you could go to attend your queen only to find her beaten to death, or if not that her skin for all its paper thin delicacies torn by some hunting arrow or whip.
This was not the fear of some loyal bystander either, this was the fear of an lover. A lover who had known Margaery since you were both twelve playing among the violets and dogwood roses under the summer sun. You remembered a youth of floral crowns, whispered secrets and giddy laughter as both of you set her cousins up with pages for your own amusement.
In that moment you could remember your first kiss at sixteen. After a banquet you had escorted her to change as all good maidens do, a white rose still in your hair. It had been a game whoever had the white rose had to be kissed before midnight or it would be bad luck.
Her hand had brushed your hair taking the rose from its place. No words needed to be said, as your [eye colour] eyes upset from exhaustion and social exclusion. “I am happy, I did not want anyone else to kiss you” she had smiled and before you could comprehend she had left a soft peck to your lips.
From that moment you two could not be parted not in friendship nor in romance.
You had followed her everywhere. To Renly’s camp where you had brushed out her hair and smoothed her dress, making up for the ladies left in Highgarden. You had been resting against her breast listening to her steady heart beat as she schemed. Leaving a kiss to your forehead she promised “we won’t remain traitors, I will still be queen I promise”.
Now you wondered if it was worth it. If you could bare to see it. Perhaps you should leave, join the sept, so you could worship another Maid, the Goddess herself instead of seeing your queen suffer.
In your thought you had been oblivious to the silk dress laid across the bed, or the perfume of rose and myrrh or the necklace of diamond roses.
“Now now ladies, please I am nervous enough as it is” laughed Margaery “Oh please go be merry! you have brought my things and done my hair, now go dress yourselves, accompany my lady grandmother to breakfast I insist”
Some were disappointed but most were overjoyed at the freedom to roam the mornings preparations. “[your name] will attend me now go!”
You could not help but raise a brow as they all shuffled from the room. “My lady”. Automatically you went to the necklace, you always placed her jewellery on first so it could warm against her skin. Holding the silver in your hand you carefully approached her, nervous for your own reaction.
“Why so hesitant?” she asked softly turning to face you. She knew the answer, she always did, she had known you as if her own shadow or palm. Instead of answering you asked “are you sure about this? truly?”
A soft hum came across her lips “I was waiting for you to ask”. Glancing at the necklace she gave a nod of approval. Your fingers opened the clasp but you did not move yet. “My sweetheart, I promised you I would be queen did I not?”
“Yes...but I am unsure of the cost” although you wished to continue you stopped yourself and went behind her to slide the cool metal over her neck and rejoin the clasps. Your fingers brushing lightly against her neck as if coaxing her to speak.
“The cost? knowing you that cost is in every currency in the known world and I can not guess them all, tell me your fears”. Stubbornly you shook your head. “[Your name] please this is my last few hours as a maid, might as well speak now”
You adjusted a curl that did not seem right.
A matching bracelet wrapped around her wrist as you continued in silence. It was not that you did not want to speak but you did not know where to begin. You knew the moment you opened your mouth you would say everything and nothing all at once.
Another bracelet later she huffed. “I could order you to speak” “I know”. “Sweetheart” she pressed in which your only response was to stop and look at her for a few seconds. She was gorgeous.
It was when you went to collect the perfume you paused. “I am scared”. “Come” she commanded as you held perfume in hand. Playfully tapping your nose with her finger, something she had always done, Margaery continued “scared of what”.
A ghost of a smile came over your features. “Everything, as you said every currency- If anything happened to you I could not bare it”. Margaery did not speak.
“It is not like the Baratheon camp or Highgarden, there are spies everywhere. They will know about us and I am afraid they will use it to damn you” That was only one of the issues but you had to start somewhere.
“You may have power over Joffery right now but he is erratic, it...” you took in a sharp breath “it is not even about us, I am afraid for you, that one day he will attack you just because his pigeon was not cooked enough or that he felt bored” “[Your name]” “No not even you are invisible to a mad man Margaery I don’t want your crown to kill you- I would rather join a sept.”
“Don’t say that” her voice lowered, “don’t every say that [your name]”. Her voice was in no way threatening, it had instead deepened with a concerning revelation that you could be gone from her.
One hand took yours her fingers wrapping around yours. “Listen, I should have talked to you sooner, discussed all of this, your fears...our fears long before the wedding day but know we don’t change”
You blinked a bit “You will be queen” “Yes and for awhile until trusted we can not run away into hallways or spend hours in bed together but it is all temporary”
Moving her other hand to stroke your cheek she continued “Think about it if we remained with Renly we would be hanged traitors, if I stayed in Highgarden I would have been married off to some high lord anyway, so would you. It is strange for a lady of a noble house to bring her maid into marriage especially when they are of [your house]. Not without some excuse, think about it we are safest here”
“We are right under them” “Yes sweet, what would they to suspect a queen and her loyal maid? I can protect us and our ambitions all here, a rose keeps growing strong”.
“In the short term, what will that mean” you asked, your head dizzy with information but your heart cautiously beginning to flutter.
“You will be in charge of my bedchamber, a high honour but it means every night we will have a few minutes to be us as you brush my hair and the rest shall be us as how we normally act in daylight...private affection will grow after their trust”
“Margaery” “[your name]” “Growing strong?”
She laughed “Oh yes my darling growing strong” a soft kiss was pressed to your lips.
“Now you will have to dress me or we will never get to fool that silly little king”
Tell me how you look at this cute little baby, and hate him? He doesn't deserve all the bullshit he is getting right now. It's not his fault. Blame D&D. Don't hate the player. Hate the game.
(Part 1 / King in the North / The White Wolf / Skins / The Thing That Came in the Night)
The heavy fall of Jon’s bootsteps echoed across the stones, and with them went all the other sounds in the room; a silence as thick and heavy as a wet bear pelt seemed to fall upon your shoulders.
It wouldn’t do to chase after him--if he’d grown so hotheaded as to storm out on a guest, it was best that he was left alone to settle. If he needed your ear, he could find you.
You looked at your grandmother as she finished the last of her meal: how her expression remained unchanged as she scraped up the last of the greens and pork drippings onto a heel of bread, and ate as slowly as she had before. You wanted to strangle her. You wanted to weep. You wanted to know how it took her a single dinner to throw everything into chaos. Worse yet, it made a part of you wish she had never come.
She chewed, and she swallowed. She eyed the all-but-empty hall, as if waiting for a servant to appear at her elbow with another noggin of ale. When none manifested, she turned expectantly to you. “I suppose you should show me to my quarters,” she said at last.
In truth, you didn’t know where Jon had planned to house her. There was a room very near to yours, you supposed, that she could have. You would have offered her your own bed–it was grander, and you had little use for it. But appearances had to be maintained, and no information should be offered unasked.
Higher and higher you climb into the keep, up the spiralling stairwell that–as you now notice–brush the sides of your grandmother’s bulk as she walks. Would this hindrance keep her above stairs or below, you wondered?
Her flinty eyes glance about the corridor; even here she was vigilant, even when there was nowt here but ageless grey brick.
“And where do you sleep, Y/n?” she asks, with all the subtlety of a woman known for carrying a mace.
“I sleep there, grandmother–just at the opposite end of the hall.”
“By the other stairwell?”
“Yes.”
Her brows narrow into a knowing scowl. “And where do those stairs lead?”
“To–” you catch yourself before you can say Jon “–Lord Stark’s solar. And Lady Sansa’s.”
“You’re at first names with Lady Bolton, are you?”
“Many here at Winterfell–at least, those who weathered the Boltons– have known her since she was a girl. She is still very much Lady Sansa in their eyes.” You throw a glance around the parameter. “It’s not my place to say, but...for reasons very dear to Lady Sansa, she prefers to dispense with the name Bolton.”
“I don’t blame her. When I heard she’d been yoked to Ramsay Bolton I shuddered.” She does so again, at the thought. “Having to bed that repugnant dog’s pizzle of a man...” She shakes her head. “Though I suppose the gods are good after all–she bore him no children and kept her fingers.”
You make a sound of weak agreement, though your mind is full of objections. You know that Lady Sansa’s stories are not yours to tell.
“They seem to have smiled on Lord Stark as well,” she continues, “collecting so many titles so soon. King in the North. The White Wolf. Now Jon Stark, heir to Winterfell.”
You nod. “I think he will do well by his name,” you offer, as you both approach her room. You’re exhausted physically as well as emotionally: the fear, the surprise, the general disquiet of the whole night has taken its toll.
You open wide the door, giving place a quick inspection before allowing your grandmother inside. There is a cold hearth, piled with tinder and straw; the bed is half pelts, and looks as if it could stand up, shake, and walk away; a small chamber pot is visible underneath. Yes, you think, this will do fine.
“I hope this suits you, Grandmother.”
She takes a sweeping glance in the near-darkness. “It will serve.”
Good enough. “I’ll leave you this candle, then, so you may light a fire if you wish.”
She turns to you with eyebrow cocked. “And what sort of thankless child are you, that you would not kneel to light a fire for an old crone? Come inside, come inside!”
She kicks at a pile of logs with a leather boot, stuffed with hides and bound around her leg in leather scrap. When no mice or rats escaped, she seized a cask-sized log in both hands and slammed it into the grate, snapping the twigs underneath.
“Close the door, girl–you’ll let the draft in!”
You do so, and cross the room to offer her the candle’s flame. She nearly snatches it from your hand, and sets the straw and kindling alight.
She clearly hasn’t lost an ounce of strength since last you saw her, you think, so why does she play the crone now?
When at last she has the log set to burning, she stands–with not a groan nor a creak–and sits at the foot of the bed.
“Come, Y/n, and give me a hand with these boots. My old fingers are still-half frozen.”
On your haunches, you kneel before her; she sets a boot onto your thigh. You see now that the scraps and cords of leather are not one piece, but several pieces tied end to end. You recognize the hides inside as squirrel and mink. It is less a boot than a paw–tough and furry, more animal than human. What’s more, the smell of feet and old fur and rotting leather turns your nose. Still, you resolve to be Good, and begin to pull at a knot.
She leans in closer to you. “I’ve heard it said that you are serving here as Lyanna’s consul.” Her voice is flat and soft now.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“And Lyanna bid it so?”
“Yes, Grandmother.” You’re unsure which is more bothersome, the knotted leather or the prying questions.
“Did Lord Stark have any say in this appointment?”
“I don’t know, Grandmother,” you say, sure of your honesty in at least that answer. “I was only asked, not consulted.”
“I’m surprised. It’s said you have Lord Stark’s ear and more.”
So that had left the castle’s gates. How far had it flown, you wonder. Your cheeks can’t help but flush a little–the thought of the whole of Westeros knowing how you spent your nights. What else had passed through these broken walls? Did all of Planetos know he had taken your maidenhead?
“If I remember right, you took to each other as children,” she continues.
“Aye, we did,” you answer through gritted teeth, unwinding the wet leather from around her calf.
“Did you ever wonder why you were never betrothed?”
The question takes you off guard. You had wondered, so very long ago; but that was before you were a woman flowered, and many young men had caught your eye since.
“I suppose Lord Eddard had planned on urging him into the Night’s Watch?”
“No, child.” She lay a hand on your shoulder. You look up to meet her eyes. “Eddard Stark knew Robert Baratheon from boyhood. He served as Robert’s Hand. Do you believe that the king would hesitate to grant him any favor he wished?”
You shake your head No.
“Lord Eddard could have had Jon made legitimate with a stroke of the king’s quill. He’d be the second son, yes, but a full and trueborn son all the same, with the rights to name and title... Many men would offer up their maiden daughters for a chance at even that glass jewel of a Stark.”
You blink your confusion. You cannot say where this is going, but an uncomfortable churning begins in your belly all the same.
“Don’t you see, girl? Jon was their lord-under-glass. Should any ambitious match be found, a new heir could be made as quick as a raven flies. A lord with too many daughters could yet earn himself a new son–a Stark son–in return for his loyalty. Such ambitions aren’t served by marrying one of their own vassals.”
You nod slowly. “But why tell me this now? Jon is a lord in his own right. He won’t need to be married off now. And Lady Sansa could still marry well...”
“Sansa is twice married and only once widowed. As both a Bolton and a Lannister, she is cursed twofold. The whole of the North is cursed if she should let herself be taken in by Littlefinger.” A small sigh deflates her. “And for all the glory of this place, and all the lustre of the Stark name, there is very little substance to either now. The castle is half a ruin, and there are precious few men left to fight for it.”
You don’t notice, but your hands are beginning to shake. You only feel the tightness in your throat. “But the Manderleys...the Glovers...they’ve promised their swords to Jon. Surely their support...” Your voice falls away, strangled.
“And when he tells them about these White Walkers–will they follow their ‘king’ then? They dare not turn tail again, but they may march ever slower behind him. And what shall he do when no one is sworn to him but green boys and wildlings? Jon cannot make them an army–but he can marry into one.”
The air disappears from the room.
“There may be a lesser Redwyne who’ll give him men enough to march against the Lannisters–in return for a Northern ladyship, of course. Perhaps one of Mallister’s granddaughters, once she comes of age.” She efflares a laugh. “He may even make a good match for the little Dragon Queen, if she’ll have him...”
“Stop!” you cry. You’re panting hard now, struggling to breathe. You blink and find tears wetting your cheeks.
“Y/n...”
“No...” The word comes out in a mewling little whine, but you can’t stop from saying it over and over again.
“I’m sorry, Y/n...”
She kept talking after she spoke your name; you did not hardly hear it. Your mind is a thousand places at once, your thoughts running about in a panic. That all those nights should mean nothing. That the battle scars you still bore–that he had kissed half a hundred times–should mean so little...
“...leave Winterfell at the next clear day...”
Leave? But why? There was work to be done here, and there were aunts and cousins aplenty to secure the lodge for winter.
Were plans being laid even now? Surely Jon would not keep you in his bed whilst his marriage was being arranged. Then again, you think, if you’ve already given him your maidenhead, and can offer no more than the sworn swords of a treen and craggy island, you worth may be only as a bedwarmer now. You were not privvy to the talks that made you consul–why should you be present for the machinations of a marriage alliance?
“You may take a part of him, if you must...”
This only starts your tears afresh. “I...there was...I couldn’t...”
Your grandmother nods knowingly. “Moon tea.”
It was not moon tea, but it was close enough. And you haven’t the will or the words to explain otherwise. You simply nod your agreement.
“There is time, if you wanted–”
“NO!” You howl, another sob lurching through you. You, yelling at the grandmother you thought was dead. You could be no more ashamed of yourself.
“I couldn’t...I couldn’t do that to Jon,” you finally say. “His great fear is that he’d father a bastard himself. It’s no life for a child here...” If only she knew how different Bear Island was from the rest of Westeros...
She seizes your chin her still-powerful grip and lifts it so you meet her eyes.
“He is the son of a Lord and you are the daughter of a Lady. Bastards or no, you are equals. It cannot–it will not–be said that any child that comes of your bodies shall be any less.” You nod into her hand.
With a surprising tenderness, she wipes away your tears with her thumb. “You are his equal, sweetling. And he is no king–not yet.” She pulls her hand back. “But a man’s title is bought, sold, and traded as much as any maidenhead. Just know that he may yet be too costly for you.”
You nod again, and force a weak smile. You hope that it is enough to mask the heartbreak that twists like a knife in your chest. More tears are welling behind your eyes; a full cup threatening to run over. And for a moment, you wonder if throwing yourself off the battlements would break your neck, or if you’d only freeze to death in chest-high snow.
You stand–slowly, as not to spill the overflowing cup–and give her a little curtsy. “Can I do anything more for you, Grandmother?” You suck in a sob. “I should like to go to bed now.”
“No, child,” she says softly. “I should like to sleep myself.” She pulls at the heel of her boot before adding “I’ve not slept safely in many moons. Remind me to thank Lord Stark for his hospitality in the morning.”
“I will.” You back out of the room, barely holding your composure. “Goodnight Grandmother.”
“Goodnight, Y/n.”
You close her door behind you and have a quick glance around the hall: there is no one to see or hear you. Still, the few steps to your room feel like leagues of swamp, weighing down every footfall.
The very minute you close your door, you throw yourself onto your bed and sob into your feather pillow. Your whole body cramps with the heave of it.
Could you have been so foolish as to think that you could keep him? The White Wolf, the King in the North? That your sword, your maidenhead, your willing ears and loving arms could somehow be enough to overcome your inferior name? The accusations ring in your head: all Mormont women are skin changers and she-bears, populating an island with their bastards.
If Jon’s seed planted a son in you, you think, he’d be a prince on Bear Island. He would be adored. He could have a good maester, and a horseman, and half a dozen masters-at-arms. He could be just the warrior his father was, if not more...
But there’d be no question he was a Stark. Not if you whelped a boy after a stay at Winterfell. Not if he had Jon’s dark eyes. Or his raven curls, or his solemn mouth. And if Jon had boys of his own... Too many had died in the Blackfyre rebellions to allow it. And you don’t think you could bear the look in Jon’s eyes, if he found out he’d left a son unloved.
No. You couldn’t.
You sob harder. You do so over and over until, finally, there is nothing left. Defeated and drained, you curl in on yourself, falling asleep on your bear pelt blanket.
For the first time in many moons, you sleep alone.
“Goodnight sweetheart” He smiled giving me a little kiss before I turned away and got cosy in bed with bran spooning me from behind his arms around my waist I tried my best to get to sleep as i knew I would have a busy day tomorrow but as I was laying there i felt his hands moving up to my breasts and groping them softly
“Bran?” I asked
“Shhhh Just a little more sweetheart” He groaned
“Bran if you just want to do that you can go all the way” I smirked
TV SHOW : GAME OF THRONES
COUPLE: BRAN X READER
RATING: SWEET AF!
I giggled sneaking though the little corridors and stone tunnels trying to avoid people I smiled as I saw the door I was looking for unguarded so I ran over hiding behind another corner before running for the door but as I did someone grabbed me and pushed me away from the door
"Miss Y/n, shouldn't you be in your room a this time of night?" Ser Brienne asked me blocking the door along with podrick
"I uhh, got lost" I blush
"Lost? This is the king's quarters, a scullery maid had to get very lost to find herself at the king's door" podrick laughs
"I uhh I lied, he sent for me... Bed needs changing" I giggled
"He didn't inform us, how would he have called for you with out the assistant of his kings guard?" She asks
"Uhhh... A raven, from the window" I blush and they both glared at me "uhh warged into the cook and told me" I smile
"One hour little lady, don't be loud" he told me opening the door so I giggled giving them both a kiss on the cheek and running in, as much as I hated them knowing they where his kings guard we couldn't avoid them knowing about us, as I turned to see bran sat in his bed with some letters he looked up and saw me
"Right on time" he smirked
"You always know what time I'll get here...you know everything" I giggled running and jumping in bed with him he smiled cuddling me tightly giving millions of kisses I returned what I could snuggling into his grip and giggling a little at his tickly kisses "Brandon stop it" I giggled and he did resting his hand on my waist and giving my lips a sweet kiss
"Hello y/n" he smiles
"Hello bran" I giggled he out his letters and such he was working with away and opened the sheets to I climbed under the covers and rested my head on his chest as well as some of arms
"I've been looking forward to seeing you" he smiles playing with my hair "I'll talk with brennie, tell her to let you in without a fight" he smiles
"It's alright, I don't mind. She's there to protect you, I'd rather she always did then stop doing it and you get attacked by somebody" I explain
"Knowone will attack me" he smiles
"They might, your king. Kings are targets" I tell him
"Most kings, I can see everything someone plans on attacking me they get arrested before they even think about it" he laughs "enough chit chat, come on let's get some rest" he smiles kissing my head and I nodded tugging in his shirt so he laughed and tugged it off for me so I could snuggle on his bare chest and I sighed happily feeling his warm skin against me I pressed a gentle kiss to his chest "I love you y/n" he smiled
"Awe I love you too bran" I smile
"You know... As I don't have to produce an heir to the throne? I should really be allowed to... Marry whoever I want" he smiled
"Shouldn't you not marry...incase you need to marry for like aliences and things?" I ask
"King of the six kingdoms with his sister ruling the north... I don't need anymore aliences" he says "and I want to marry you" he says
"But isn't there laws and rules and-" I began but he pulled me to kiss him
"Whatever rules and laws there are, I will change them" he says "to make you my queen" he smiles fixing my hair
"Is that a proposal My king?" I ask
"Is that a yes?" He asked
"Yes" I smile kissing his sweet lips he pulled me closer by my waist to make our kiss deeper moving his lips tenderly against my own his soft snuggly grip tightening on me I moved a little closer almost sitting on his leg till I pulled back his sweet kiss lingering on my lips a moment as he opened his eyes
"I never get used to that" he blushed "you should go" he says
"Why?" I ask a little worried
"Sam's coming to see me... It's urgent" he says
"Well... If I am to be your queen Brandon, he'll get used to us being snuggly in bed when he comes to see us" I smile running my hand down his soft skin
"I know, I just don't want him see you like this" he says
"Like what?" I ask
"Like that" he smirked tugging my dress off my top half
"Dirty boy" I smile getting up and slipping my dress off leaving me in just my little underdress that I sleep in that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, but I didn't mind nothing bran hasn't seen before and climbing back into bed with him nuzzling my head into his neck laying oh his chest a little bit
"I love you" he smiles
"I love you too" I giggled giving him a kiss as he tightened his grip on me pulling me a little closer as the door knocked
"Let him in" bran said to the door and within a couple seconds Sam wondered in
"Ohh I do beg your pardon your grace" he says
"What is it?" Bran asked tucking the covers around us a little more to hide anything important
"Well... A raven came, from your sister your grace" Sam said handing bran the paper "I uhh I know you don't I? You tend to my and gilly's room?" He asked and I nodded "what are you doing here?" He asked
"I was sent for" I giggled running my hand along brans leg he glanced down at me and smirked a little returning his focus to the letter
"Send what she asks for," he says handing Sam the letter back and Sam hurried out
"It's time for miss Y/n to go your grace" podrick said at the door
"I'll send her away when I say it's time for her to go" bran answered so he shut the door leaving us alone again
"Would you really make me queen?" I ask
"Of course I will" he says playing with my hair
"Is it true?" I ask
"Is what true?" He asked
"That... You can't father children?" I ask and he nods "but I've -" I began
"I know we have... I can, do everything else y/n but I'm infertilitle I wouldn't ever be able to father children" he says
"Wouldn't you want children someday?" I ask
"Not really, I have you your all I need" he smiles kissing my head
"I might want a baby someday" I answer
"And I will do whatever it take to get you one, it just can't be mine" he says
"I don't want one... If it can't be ours" I complain
"Y/n, I love you with all my heart. I would do anything for you, I want nothing else in this world then for you to be happy. I will make you my queen I swear it, and I will spend the rest of my life making you smile" he explained "I will give you the world, because u can't give you a child" he says
"I don't want the world, I just want you" I smile hugging him tightly giving his cheek a kiss and cuddling close again
"Y/n y/l/n, queen of the six kingdoms," he smiles kissing my head
"Someday" I laugh
"Someday soon my queen" he smiled
TV SHOW: GAME OF THRONES
COUPLE: BRAN X READER
RATING: SMUT
I hummed my little tune giving the horses brushes and apples in the winterfell courtyard when I heard the noise now so familiar to me of wheels rolling from the castle doors making me turn to see bran his chair being pushed by Arya
"Brandon!" I giggled running over to him and jumping on him sitting in his lap and pressing little kisses all over his face and neck
"Awe hello" he smiled holding me close
"Ugh, you two are awful" Arya yelled
"No worse then you and gendry" bran laughed giving my nose a kiss
"I don't go around jumping in gendrys lap' she sighs
"Yes you do, just when he's done in the forge" bran smirked
"I missed you" I smile nuzzling into his neck
"I missed you too pretty girl" he smiles kissing my head "come along its getting late, you can finish up with them tomorrow" he says
"Alright" I smile sorting the horses for the night and taking bran back to our room and helping into the bed I smiled throwing a couple logs in the fire
"Umm you look so beautiful," he smiles
"Thank you bran" I smile blowing him a kiss he smirked looking at my body as I got things arranged pouring the water into the bath tub and going over to where he sat on his bed "time to get undressed my lord stark" I tell him making him smirk more slipping his shirt off and undoing his pants so I tugged them off him averting my eyes from his cock he noticed me not looking and pulled me up to meet his eyes I smiled caressing his cheek lightly before stripping him completly and going to check if the water is cool enough for bran as he always hated his baths red hot even when he was young
"You don't have to look away when I'm naked y/n," he smirked
"I know I don't my lord but it's polite" I smirk taking the bath over to him pushing it with its little wheels "are you ready for your bath lord stark" I ask Turning him so his legs fell off the bed sitting perched on the edge of the bed
"Yes miss Y/n," he smirked "are you ready for yours?" He asks grabbing my waist and pulling me to stand between his legs cuddling me tight and slowly pulling on the ties on my little purple dress tugging it off me leaving me naked against his skin and I moved my eyes away but he smirked pulling me to look at him
"Bran I-" I began
"Shhh, let me look" he says looking at every inch of my body
"As the three eyes raven? And can see everything...do you go looking at lots of naked people?" I ask him letting his soft hair
"Only you beautiful girl" he smiles "a raven has no time for naked folks only you" he smirked kissing my lips softly I smirked and moved away so he could see all of me in one glance "Uhhhhhh y/n, chin up it makes you stand taller" he says so I did it "arms at your sides... behind you pushed your chest to far makes them look smaller" he says so I did it too "uhh your legs... Further apart, just a little" he begs so I did that too
"Enough Brandon says, bath time" I tell him helping him where I could into the water
"Aren't you going to join me?" He asks
"When your clean my lord stark" I tell him starting to help him to wash for a while till he took my hand
"Come here, that's an order little girl" he said
"Yes my lord" I smirk stepping into his bath and straddling him I could feel his rock hard cock under me "ummm lord stark... It's bigger then I expected" I blushed resting my hands on his chest
"The three eyed raven once told me it was the biggest in westeros history" he smirked
"When did he say that?" I ask
"When we where in the past" he says
"I thought where the three eyed raven?" I ask
"Exactly" he smirked grabbing my waist "y/n...kiss me my sweet angel" be begs so I smiled kissing his soft lips gently he pulled me closer pulling me tight against him I moaned uncontrollably into the kiss feeling him under me
"Uhh Brandon!" I moaned lightly grinding on him
"Ummm...stop I'll cum if you don't" he moaned
"I thought that is what you wanted lord stark" I smirked kissing down his neck
"I do, umm Don't stop those heavenly kisses y/n, more more" he groans
"More?" I smirk sitting up letting his head slip inside me "this enough?" I ask and he nodded quickly
"More then enough" he smirked
"The Raven doesn't want" I smirked sitting up more and gently slipping down his cock "The Raven doesn't beg" I smirk "The Raven has no matter with the affairs of-" I began as I hit his base "Uhh... Bran" I moan softly holding him tightly "Uhhhh!" I moan
"Umm you're so tight... you feel amazing." He moaned "I never want to stop, ever the rest of all time I want to be inside you," he says
"Ummm I would like that Brandon" I smirk "But I'm sure the stark lord has other things to do then fuck his whore" I smirk
"You're not my whore, you're my lover soon to be my wife," he says "And I would think when Lord stark asked for her pussy she would give it" he growled kissing me deeply so I smirked starting to bounce on him "Uhh uhhhh! ohh my god..." he moans leaning his head on his bath "more...faster please" He begs to move my hips to make me go faster
"Uhhh uuuuhhh Brandon!" I scream bouncing on him faster and harder
"Uuuhhhhh Y/n" he moans "your getting close aren't you angel?" he asks and I nod "You've never cum before, relax it's going to explode out of you darling" He smirked
"Uhh uuuuuhhhh Uh Uhhhh!" I moan feeling so good boucning on bran's cock "why weren't we doing this the second we came of age?" I ask him
"I don't know! one word I'll go back in time and fuck you every day since we met" he smirked
"No, just promise you will from now on" I smirk
"Ohh Every night my angel" He moans "I promise" he smirks
"Every night?" I smirk
"Night, Morning, Afternoon, evening, Lunchtime anytime you want me too" he groaned "Kiss me Please," he asks so I giggled kissing him deeply as I got faster and faster
"Uhhh uuuhhh Brandon... uuuuuhhh uhh!" I scream "Uhh uuuuhhh Ahhhh!" I scream bitting on his mouth as I rocketed into my orgasm "Umm uhhh Bran..." I moan collapsing on his chest
"Ummm Y/n, I always wanted to do that" he smirked
"Didn't you want to-" I began
"I already did, while you were screaming" he smirks
"I didn't hear you" I giggled
"I'm quiet, how do you think I did it without waking you, or rickon, or Meera or jojen or even hodor" He smirked
"Umm, Bran" I smile getting out of bed and getting my nightie on
"Yes my beautiful girl" He smirked as I helped him out onto the bed as soon as he was tucked in the bed I sat on his lap
"When can we go again?" I ask kissing all over his bare skin
"Hummm ? already?" he asked
"When?" I ask
"Give me a little time until I can-" he began
"Soon? or are you going to keep your angel waiting Lord stark" I smirk
"Alright come here" He smirked kissing me passionately...
