Trust
Showing - House Of The Dragon Staring - Oscar Tully (Age Up) X Targaryen Reader (Daeron's Twin) Rating - 18+ (Treason / Imprisoned / Restrained / Bound / Hickeys / HJ / Offered BJ) Reading Time - 17 min 37 sec (2288)
The war had been endless, each day another endless wave of green lackeys to slice open. As well as more and more River men and North men falling dead. Oscar found his rhythm with war; he didn't like it, but he handled it better than he had expected he might. He argued with the king consort almost daily, on matters both large and small, the two never seeming to find a common ground. But at least what Oscar had from Daemon was respect… unfortunately, he wasn't with Daemon anymore.
One night, while Oscar headed for the camp mess tent in search of something warm to fill his stomach, he was ambushed and captured along with several other high-born Riverland lords. He was bound, gagged, stripped of his armour and forced to march across the river into the endless, perfect rows of green tents at the enemy camp.
Oscar constantly squirmed and grumbled below his gag; he wasn't going to make any of this easy for them. But he was soon tossed unceremoniously onto the floor of a lavish tent.
Inside were three figures: the first sat at his desk as he sealed letters, was lord Ormond Hightower, dressed in fine Hightower armour with green velvet. Beside him stood his squire and second cousin, Prince Daeron, youngest son of Queen Alicent and King Viserys, and lounged across the tent was lord Ormond’s niece and Daeron's twin sister, Y/n. The twin dragon riders wore dyed green leathers, looking prepared to mount their beasts at a moment's notice.
“Lord Tully, my lord.” The guard barked,
“Umm,” Ormond dismissed, slowly, he rose and came to meet Oscar's eye, “I must say, I'm surprised. I had heard the new lord paramount was a boy; I hadn't imagined him to be as old as my own nephew.”
Oscar merely glared up at him,
“It's a shocking feat to unite the ever-volatile lords of the river lands under one banner… even the banner of their lord paramount. However, did a young boy lead an army of rivermen against my men? Do tell me… I'm mildly fascinated.”
Oscar refused to speak, keeping his glare strong and unwavering.
“Remove the gag.” Ormond barked,
The guard quickly came and undid the gag around Oscar’s mouth, but the moment it was gone, the Tully lord spat at Ormond, the blow landing squarely on his cheek.
“Ahh!” Ormond flinched away in disgust, instantly grabbing for his silk handkerchief to wipe it away. “You Little-”
The sight caused Princess Y/n to giggle behind her hand, instantly getting a glare from Ormond, which silenced her. He then gave a nod to his guard, and before another word could be said, the heavily armoured guard slammed his gauntlet into Oscar’s stomach.
He refused to yell, however, and simply bit his bottom lip to muffle his groan as he slumped forward.
“Take him and his lordlings to the prisoners' tents, ensure he is well guarded… and central. If Caraxes flies overhead, I want to make sure this one burns first.”
The guard obeyed and instantly grabbed Oscar by the arms and dragged him back out of the tent.
Oscar and the other captured Riverlords were taken to a row of tents in the centre of the camp, truly the place Daemon would have Caraxes burn first if he saw it from overhead. The tents were small, cramped with only a single centre pole where the lords were bound; only Oscar was given a tent alone.
His hands were left bound behind his back, attached to the centre pole by a string of rope only a few inches long, enough that he could sit, or stand at least. The mud under his feet was thick and wet with the runoff from… frankly, he didn’t want to know, but he steeled himself without a fire's flame, knowing it would be a cold night.
He had tried to watch the moonlight from the small shadows beyond the tent, but he had lost all track of time; he knew it was late, but not much beyond that. He could hear that most of the soldiers had taken to their beds, leaving only the night guards on duty across the camp.
But it was another sound that caught his attention, footsteps… softer and gentler without the clink of armoured boots. He soon saw the soft, fluttering orange glow of lamplight outside his tent. And he held his breath to ensure he heard everything.
“The moon is high, and you seem tired… You should attend to rest. Good Knights.” A remarkably female voice cooed,
“We do not take our orders from you-” One began but was quickly silenced,
“Thank you very much.” Another snapped,
And he could hear their armoured steps as they headed away.
But the tent flap soon opened, and a figure slipped inside. They wore a heavy cloak that concealed everything about them, holding a lantern in their hand. “Lord Tully?”
“Yes, Who are you? What do you want?” Oscar asked, trying to sound as strong and brave as possible,
Suddenly, she pulled down her cloak’s hood and revealed her Targaryen blonde hair.
“P-princess!” He gasped, doing what he could to bow his head given his current restraints,
Which only made her giggle,
“Wh-what are you doing here? Has lord Ormond sent for me?”
“He doesn’t know I am here, and I would like to keep it that way,” she smiled,
“Then… why are you here?”
“To see you,”
“Me?”
“Mhm,”
“… Why?”
She smiled and simply pulled back her cloak, revealing she was no longer wearing the green riding leathers he saw her in earlier, but now a soft green dress.
But she had bread with her! And frankly, anything else disappeared from his mind.
She saw his eyes bulge, and she laughed, offering the bread to him.
He instantly craned his neck, pulling as hard on the rope as he could just to reach the little crust of bread, and as soon as he was close enough, he took the biggest bite he could and audibly moaned, “Ummmm, Thank the mother! You are an angel, princess.” he groaned,
“You really were hungry.” She giggled, ensuring she moved it close enough that he could keep eating it, “I wanted to make sure you had something.”
“You are too kind, princess… thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she cooed, “I should have brought more.”
“I am satisfied, regardless.”
“Ummm…” she cooed, her eyes falling over him, scanning from boots to curls,
“…Yes?” He asked, vaguely concerned, why she was suddenly looking at him like she wanted to eat him,
“You’re handsome,” she smiled, moving her hand to brush his hair from his eye,
“Ughhhhh-” he mumbled, unsure how to respond, “T-thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” She laughed, “Is it true what lord ormond says? That you are… the last living Tully? The last of your family descended from the riverkings that bowed to Aegon.”
“Yes. I uhh… I am the last, my father died young, and my … my grandsire passed just before the war began,”
“Ohh, you poor thing, I’m so sorry,” She cooed, her hand remaining in his hair to meet the fluffy curls,
He didn’t know whether to flinch away or move closer and nuzzle into her pets, but he remained watching her with wide, suspicious eyes. “Thank you.”
“Relax, Ormond is stupid, but he’s not reckless. He wouldn’t slaughter the last of a house for pure thrill, he thinks he’s too much of a gentleman for that.”
“I’m glad, but still I would prefer not to be stuck here for the rest of the war, surviving off of bread.” He grumbled, “Not that I am not appreciative. Just… my men will lose their minds .”
“Of course, they need their leader,” she cooed, “You should really get back to them,”
“Yes, but in case you hadn’t noticed, I am currently being held prisoner.”
“Currently,” she smirked,
“… why do you say it like that?” he asked,
“I could… undo the ropes, let you go.”
All the colour drained from his face, and his heart began to race, “You-you would?”
“Mhm,”
“I uhh… I… thank you.”
“But of course, I would want something in return.”
“Of course, princess. Name it.”
“I want to go with you.”
“… you- you what?”
“I will untie you and help you escape camp, so long as I can come with you.”
“Why would you want to come with me? You’re a princess… fighting for your brother, you come with me, it’s… treason at the very least.”
“I do not care to die for the throne. I was born as a fifth child, a second daughter, so far from the line of succession that my whole family would need to be massacred before the crown ever even loomed over my head. I do not want to die fighting their argument.” She explained, “And I know, Riverrun, has never fallen to a siege, its keep locked within the walls protected by the river, and can, if sealed… last two years without fear. I want you to wait out this war in Riverrun, your castle, and I can hardly do that without getting you out of here.”
He was beyond stunned; he had no idea what to say to such a request: “You want to wait out the war, in Riverrun?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll set me free?”
“Yes.”
“… That seems a cheap price,”
“Do you not trust me?”
“… not really, no. You are a dragonrider. If you don’t want to be part of this war, fly somewhere else.”
“It’s not that simple-”
“Why would I trust that you aren’t just going to take over Riverrun from within and torch my family home!”
But her answer was an action, simply closing the gap between them and kissing his lips to silence him.
He was… understandably rather taken aback; it also didn’t help that it was his first ever kiss. He liked it, but was still very confused and unsure, even if the kiss was nice. Slowly, he closed his eyes and began to kiss her back, not wanting to waste an opportunity, after all… how often was he going to get the chance to kiss a princess?
She broke the kiss and panted slightly as she met his eyes, “Do you trust me now?”
“… a little more than I did, but… I could uhh always do with a little more convincing.”
She chuckled, “Lord Tully, I think you just want another kiss.”
“Maybe,” he admitted,
She smiled and closed the gap again, kissing him deeper and more passionately,
He kissed back immediately, his hands fighting at the binds in need to touch her, letting out a small groan of frustration against her lips.
“Humm, you really enjoy my kisses,”
“Why wouldn’t I? Why would I turn down a kiss from a beautiful princess?”
“Do you trust the princess yet?”
“…Maybe a little more convincing,” he smirked, “Maybe, if you untie my hands and then let me kiss you, then maybe I might be convinced.”
“Why ever would I do that?” She asked, putting her hands on the red leather of his doublet, “You might run away.”
“I think you underestimate how much I like your kisses… and realistically how fast I can run.”
She giggled and began to press kisses down his jaw, “I don’t know, I think it’s best keeping you like this for now, I know exactly where you are.”
“You’ll know where more of me is if you undo my hands,” he groaned, craning his neck so she had more space,
“My lord Tully!” she mock protested, kissing down his neck,
“You’re the one who came in and kissed me,”
“And yet you still don’t trust me,” she teased, nibbling on the crook of his neck and softly biting to give him a hickey,
“Fuck-” he cursed, his hips mindlessly shifting,
She pulled back and raised a brow,
“Don’t look at me like that, you were chewing on my neck! I can’t help it if all my blood rushes south.”
“Would that make you trust me?” She asked softly, playing with the red laces that held the leather doublet together,
“W-would what make me trust you?” he asked, a little unsure if she meant what he thought she did,
She smugly laughed and pressed her body firmly against his, his many layers doing little to conceal the fact that her gown was only one,
He felt her curves, her crevices, everything that thin gown concealed from him, and he choked, “Yes. Yes, it would.”
“What about this?” She suggested, her hand sliding down the red leather past his belt and twisting into the ties of his britches, “Would this make you trust me, my lord tully?”
“Mhm…” he whimpered, fighting every urge in his body to buck into her hand,
She bit her bottom lip briefly before she began to kiss down his neck again, sliding her hand under his britches and taking a firm grip of his cock,
“FUuuuck-” He cursed, his eyes rolling back and his hands straining against the ropes,
“Has a princess ever touched you like this?” she whispered,
“A lady hasn’t even touched me like this,” he panted,
“No?”
“No… Never,”
“Did you want me to stop?”
“No… not in the seven hells.”
She smugly smiled and began her slow and tender strokes, being more gentle with him than she had first intended to be, watching his every pant, groan and curse with delight. “Have… you ever touched you like this?”
“… Yes,” He blushed, “But it doesn’t feel anywhere near as good as when you do.”
“And it never will again,” she whispered, slipping her hand out once more,
“You are cruel,”
“Am I?” She chuckled again and kissed his cheek before she shifted, laying her cloak down on the muddy ground and moving to her knees, “I could be crueller.”
Oscar blinked, unable to even think of anything to say, “I uhhhhh… are you gonna…”
“Mhm,” she smirked, fully unlacing his cotton britches,
“Uuuuuuhhh…” he whimpered, his brain fully giving out from just the mere concept,
“Yes?”
“Please,” he gulped.
