"You're A Mean One, Mr. Stark" - Modern!Robb Stark X Wife!Reader

Literally me when Bel posts anything Robb Stark Related

"You're A Mean One, Mr. Stark" - Modern!Robb Stark x Wife!Reader

a/n: a request from @toms-cherry-trees!!! i love you so much, mars, hope you enjoy this little piece! 🩷

Summary: You do your best to get your Grinchy husband into the holiday spirit.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, oral m receiving, breeding kink, p in v sex

Word Count: 1,210 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

For someone who is from the Christmas capital of Westeros, Robb Stark hates the holidays. He hates the sheer amount of tourists who flock to Winterfell, the extra hours he has to work, the traffic pileups. He finds the music entirely cliche, thinks that most of the mall Santas are probably pedophiles, and hates having to put the lights up every single damn year. The only bright side for him? How happy you, his beloved wife, get during the holiday season. You adore your little holiday traditions - buying an ugly sweater each year, doing a family Christmas card with the two of you, the kids, and Greywind, leaving milk and cookies out for Santa. You absolutely adore Christmas and have raised your and Robb’s kids to feel quite similarly. So, he puts on a stiff upper lip and every year, he manages to eke through the holidays by the skin of his teeth.

This year, however, things seem slightly different. He’s more stressed than usual, being up for a huge promotion and having to work longer hours than ever. It’s also his first holiday season without his father, Ned having passed away earlier in the year. If there ever was a Christmas where Robb earned the right to be a Grinch, it was this one.

And you? You have the perfect plan to get him into the holiday spirit and bring some cheer back into his life.

Robb has never been able to resist you in fancy lingerie, after all.

So, you send the kids over to Jon and Ygritte’s, the latter giving you a rather mischievous smirk, having gone shopping with you to pick up the perfect set, while Jon just looks on in confusion. She rolls her eyes at her long-term boyfriend, slapping the back of his head while telling him he knows nothing, causing you to giggle at the look of offense on his face. You kiss little Ned and Rickard goodbye, waving them off as they climb into Jon’s truck, ready for a weekend with their uncle. Gods, you hope Jon doesn’t send them back all sugared up like last time.

When they’ve pulled out of the driveway, you close the door, smirking to yourself as you race to get everything ready for when Robb gets home. Scented candles, his favorite dinner, all of it. Robb typically does all the cooking - wearing only those gray sweatpants of his that make him look so fucking irresistible - but today? You want to let him relax.

So, the minute he walks through the front door, taking off his jacket, he smells his favorite food, following his nose toward the kitchen, grinning like a fool. He’s always been a sucker for your cooking. But when he gets to the dining table, it isn’t the food which catches his eye.

It’s you, dressed in a little red number with white trim. A naughty Mrs. Claus, if you will, lips painted red and a smirk on your face as you beckon him closer with a curved finger. And what choice does Robb have but to obey? He walks toward you, his jaw hanging open as you sit up on your knees, giggling.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark,” you coo, “You’ve been awfully Grinchy this Christmas, so I think, as your missus, it’s my duty to instill some holiday cheer in you.”

He lets out a groan as your fingers tangle in his auburn curls, pulling him into a heated kiss, your tongues moving against each other as he quickly moves to get rid of his shirt. You eye him greedily, nails running down his chest before moving to the waistband of his trousers, undoing them with ease, palming at his cock over the fabric of his boxers. No matter how many times you and Robb make love, you’re always amazed by how big he is, how long and thick he is, and immediately think about the way he makes you feel when he’s inside you.

But as he moves to rid you of your red lacy panties, you shake your head, chiding playfully, “Not today, Robbie. Today, I’m taking care of you.”

He watches as you mouth at his cock over the fabric of his boxers, groaning as he tosses your little Santa hat aside, fingers twisting in your hair. You brace your palms against his thighs, tugging his underwear down and taking him into your mouth, moaning against his cock. You give him the tiniest of nods and he knows what you’re telling him to do. Robb slowly begins rocking his hips against you, admiring the sight of your crimson lips wrapped around him, the feeling of your hot, wet mouth as he fucks it being almost too much to bear. And gods, the way you’re looking up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire.

Every day, he’s amazed by the fact that he wants you just as bad as the day he met you. And he knows he always will. He feels himself getting close and pulls away from you, grinning at the little pout you let out.

“Robbie!”

“Want to cum inside you, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him, bending you over the dining table. He pushes your hair away away from the nape of your neck, kissing your sensitive skin as he moves your panties aside, teasing your pussy, grinning at the fact that you’re wet just from sucking him off, “We said we wanted to try for baby number three, didn’t we?”

You nod, barely able to hold back your beam of excitement as you feel him enter you with one smooth thrust. Robb fucks you like he hates, you, his grunts and growls being almost feral in nature as he ruts into you. Gods, you’ve always loved how primal he gets when he’s like this. He’s every bit the wolf starks are said to be, and you’re all too happy to take it. He’s so big, filling you up perfectly with each snap of his hips, his cock brushing against your sweet spot every fucking time. You move your fingers to circle your clit, whining when he smacks your hand away only to do the job himself.

Your eyes roll back, toes curling as he pounds into you, one hand playing with you while the other holds your hips in place as he takes complete control.

“Feel so good for me, baby,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin, “You gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy after this? Gonna let me fill you up again and again?”

“Fuck, yes, Robb, please!” Your whines grow louder and louder in tandem with your pleasure, growing to a crescendo as you spill yourself on his cock, feeling him reach his own end a few moments after.

The two of you stay like that for a long moment, breathing heavily. Robb turns you around to face him, his lips capturing yours for a long moment before he speaks again.

“How long till the kids get home?”

“Jon took them for the weekend.”

The look on his face is downright wolfish as he hardens against your thigh once again, a promise of a very happy holiday season to come.

I just watched this video! The edit was incredible! It’s weird bc I always thought Rachel’s voice would be an incredible fit for Eurydice, and the story kind of fit with Hadestown a lot!

Wait for Me (Hadestown 2010 Album) || Coriolanus & Lucy Gray - Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Hope you enjoy! It's a sad song, but maybe it will turn out this time...

Commentary under the readmore:

I've been wanting to make a Hadestown video for TBOSAS, there are so many fun threads to pull on!! Admittedly, some of the parallels here are more vibes-based than really narrative based, but I found enough to work with. The scene where Coryo explores the bombed-out arena and looks into the chasm of the tunnel seemed like an obvious jumping off point, so that was my initial idea.

The first verse basically assembled itself. I wasn't sure if I was going to use the whole song, but it ended up being easier as the verses overlap slightly and there wasn't a clean place to cut! The third verse was the hardest to stage; I cracked it by building up to the moment at the end where Coryo gets caught and expelled. Rather than literally following Lucy Gray during the games, he's choosing to break the rules to help her survive. But he's plagued with doubt along the way because he's not sure if he can trust her! It's kind of funny positioning Coryo as Hadestown Orpheus (especially since older Snow has so many parallels to Hades), because literally the instant he loses sight of his "Eurydice" in the woods he just flops instantly. Alas.

I got specific inspiration for this vid when I noticed the twirling/descending piano cue in TBOSAS (performed by featured soloist Yuja Wang) that plays during key moments of Coryo and Lucy Gray's relationship. It sounds very similar to the descending scale motif in the Hadestown soundtrack and creates a distinct, fragile mood, like we're waiting for the tentative bond between them to snap. I originally wanted to try and blend one into the other but they weren't quite similar enough. I also decided to go with the more ghostly 2010 concept album version of "Wait for Me" over the stage version, as it fit the tone I was trying to achieve.

I haven't actually completed a fanvid in literal years, but I got started on this one last night and it just poured out of me. I have some ideas for more, so hopefully I'll be able to get around to them!

Some technical notes: I got the source for the movie from JuanEditz (@juanedits on Twitter). It's nice quality but pretty dark. The songs are subtitled which I was mostly able to work around until the end.

Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red

Read the Prologue on AO3

This is my very first fic I have ever posted on AO3, and I am honestly really proud of how it turned out!

The OCs in this story play a very important role, so if you do not like Original Characters, please give it a chance!

Please read it, and let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @musical-theatre-gay, @maysileeewrites, @ethereal-athalia, @tatumrileyslover, @aphroditesmoon, @gleek-diaries-of-90210, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick

For anyone interested in reading, I have the prologue here on Ao3!

If you enjoyed reading it, please send kudos, or comment on it!

Ok, I very well could be looking too much into this, but does anyone else think it was weird how the Covey were targeted by Peacekeepers? Granted, it’s been a while since I read the original HG triology, and despite watching the film, I haven’t read the TBOSAS novel. I know a big part of the reason why Lucy Gray’s family was forced to settle into District 12 was because traveling between districts was forbidden due to the war that was going on. But I can’t help but think of something else was part of it.

I was talking about this with one of my friends, @ethereal-athalia , and I mentioned how I made the connection that the Covey in District 12 was likely part of a much larger community that was forced to split amongst themselves. The musicians would travel together, maybe there was a group of weavers and healers that formed their own “Covey.” I wonder if it was Suzanne Collin’s intention to use the Covey Genocide as an allegory of the persecution experienced by the Roma and Sinti?

When I thought of that, I then wondered if it were possible that the Capitol had their own way of “taking care” of these different branches of Covey. Because the covey weren’t really considered to be “district” by either the people in said district or by the covey themselves, and since they were considered outsiders, it would be assumed that no one would really care if they went missing.

Bear with me, because this is where it gets a little tricky to really express my thought process in this.

We all know that the Capitol isn’t above human trafficking, so would it possible that MAYBE some very few and rare members of the Covey might have been brought into the Capitol? Would it be possible that the districts those different branches of covey settled in were sold to the Capitol for whatever reason?

What if it were possible that one or two of these members caught the interest of Dr. Gaul? Maybe they were intended to be sold, but they tricked the peacekeepers into killing themselves and/or they poisoned them? Or what if one was sold because they looked similar to a Capitol child, and so they were brought in as a replacement? What if these individuals had everything that marked their heritage taken from them: their friends, their families, their dialects, the stories they grew up on, their names? Maybe they lived in misery? Maybe they ended up rising to the some of the highest social ladders at the cost of their “colors”? Or maybe they even ended up escaping to district 13????

What if these individuals who were forced to integrate into the Capitol, and had given up any hope of their history being brought back to them? All until they saw Lucy Gray Baird sing at the reaping, and then they saw her singing with the snakes? What if Snow was able to return to the Capitol because this mysterious stranger decided to sponsor him on the condition that Lucy Gray must also come to the Capitol?

Everyone thinks that if Lucy Gray stayed in the Capitol with Snow at the end of the novel, she would just be a sad trophy wife. But what if meeting this person was able to give her hope to continue not being caged? What if these two forces meet, and potentially change the course of Panem forever???

This is a very rudimentary idea, and I might not even end up writing it out, but I thought it was interesting and just wanted to share it on this platform. Also if anyone thinks that it’s a plot worth exploring, they are more than welcome to use it!

Edit: Anyone would like to notified or tagged if I make this work, please comment so I know how to tag you!

No one:

Bel: *posts Robb Stark x Reader fic*

Me: *crying, heaving, shaking all at once in joy*

BELLLL, you know that I am the biggest whore for Robb Stark, and you go and post this MASTERPIECE?????? LITERALLY HOW DARE YOU????? AND THEN HAVE THE NERVE TO POST IT IN FINALS SEASON WHEN MY SPIRITS ARE MOST DOWN, AND YOUR WRITING JUST PICKED ME RIGHT BACK UP????

"Last Christmas" - Modern!Robb Stark x Best Friend!Reader

a/n: a request from my beloved @foxyanon!!! i love you so much, bby, hope you enjoy this! 🩷

Summary: Last Christmas, Robb Stark broke your heart by getting back together with Talisa. But maybe this year, things will be different.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 1,500 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The last time you saw your best friend, Robb Stark, was last Christmas. He was dealing with the fallout of his breakup with his first serious girlfriend, Talisa. It had been a little over a month and from what you could tell, he was still pretty cut up about it. It hurt you, seeing him like that, red rimmed eyes and his lower lip trembling, his hair in disarray, especially when you’ve been in love with him for half your life. You’ve kept that secret close to your heart, never telling anyone, not even your female friends, that you’re in love with Robb.

And, for a brief moment there, you thought maybe he could love you back. You remember the holiday party at the Stark family mansion last year, where the two of you ended up under the mistletoe, the way he smiled at you, his eyes creasing at the corners in that way that always makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You looked away, avoiding eye contact, but he gently grabbed you by the chin, tilting your face up toward him, whispering in that rough timbre of his.

“We can’t mess with tradition.”

Robb’s lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss, the kind of kiss you see in movies, where your foot pops up and it feels like everything is right in the world. You lost yourself in the moment, letting him hold you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, his stubble tickling your face. Everything was perfect. When you broke apart, you smiled up at him, telling him you were going to grab some hot chocolate for the two of you, to which he nodded with that adorable smile of his.

But when you came back? There she was.

With her arms wrapped around him, her lips pressed to his. The girl you could never measure up to.

Talisa.

And so you walked away and never looked back. You never answered his calls, you blocked him on Instagram and Snapchat, every social media platform known to man really. And you decided to do something for yourself that you always wanted to but never got around to doing. You decided to take a year to yourself and travel the world. You traveled from Dorne to Yi Ti to Essos, all over the world, from the Riverlands to the Westerlands.

All in an attempt to forget him, which you never did.

It’s been 365 days since you last saw him, and now? You’re standing at the Stark family’s front door again. You tried to get out of going to this party, but Jon saw you at the grocery store and the moment he learned you were back home, he practically blackmailed you into attending.

The door opens and Sansa pulls you into a tight hug, instantly shoving a mug of hot chocolate into your hands, rambling to you about how much she’s enjoying university, how much everyone missed you in the year that you were gone, how Robb kept trying to get in touch with you but he couldn’t.

“I deleted most of my social media,” you mumble, taking a sip of your drink, “And I didn’t have an international calling plan.”

“Oh, well, I know he’ll be so happy to see you, let me go find him!”

Before you can stop her, Sansa has sprinted off, yelling for her older brother. You begin to panic, seeing that familiar mop of auburn curls from the corner of your eye. You duck behind the obnoxiously large Christmas tree, your heart pounding in your chest. You poke your head out slightly and see that he’s looking around the room frantically, no doubt searching for you. The thought makes your heart ache and every part of you wants to go to him.

But you can’t.

Seeing him with Talisa broke your heart, especially after he’d smiled at you like that, kissed you like that, given you hope that maybe he felt the same way about you. You try and make your escape toward the backyard, only to bump into Ramsay Bolton. He smirks at you, opening his big dumb mouth to say something crass, only to see the desperation on your face. You’re taken by surprise when he steps aside, allowing you to make your escape, hearing him tell Robb that no, he hasn’t seen you everywhere.

Ramsay Bolton not being a complete cunt? Seems everyone is getting into the holiday spirit.

You go out and sit on the swingset you remember playing with Robb and Jon on as kids. Jon, being the eldest, would take turns pushing the two of you, and once Sansa was old enough, she would take the seat beside you. Jon would push her and Robb would push you. Those days seem so far away now, you think as you set your mug down, gazing up at the sky, watching the snowflakes fall to the ground, the sight being every bit as beautiful as you remember from your childhood.

You wince as you hear someone taking a seat on the swing beside you, knowing there’s only one person it could be. You turn to face him.

Robb.

He lights a cigarette, placing it between his lips and taking a long drag, the smoke visible in the air as he exhales with how frigid the night is. He turns to look at you, with those big blue eyes of his, and he seems hurt. No, that’s not fair. He doesn’t get to be hurt. He extends the cigarette to you and you take it, wrapping your lips around it and inhaling. He stares at you, his gaze piercing, the two of you silent for a long moment. The silence between you two used to be comfortable, like you could communicate without having a need for words. This silence is different.

It’s tense. You hate it. You hate that your best friend feels like a stranger.

“Why?”

His voice is every bit as beautiful as you remember. You sigh deeply, your fingertips brushing against his as you hand him back the cigarette.

“Why what, Robb?”

“You left,” he pauses, “Without even saying goodbye. We kissed and you were just… Gone. Was it that horrible to kiss me?”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, “No, but you want to know what was that horrible? Coming back with hot chocolate and seeing you macking on your ex!”

Robb frowns, “Talisa? Love, she kissed me because I was standing under the mistletoe waiting for you. If you had waited two seconds, you would’ve seen me push her away and tell her I have feelings for someone else.”

You shake your head, not wanting to believe him, grabbing your purse as you walk toward the street, “Forget it, Robbie. I can’t do this right now.”

You hate the fact that your voice cracks, the fact that your eyes are stinging with your unshed tears.

And most of all? You hate the fact that he follows you out into the street, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back toward him.

Robb holds your face in his hands so delicately, as if you’re a china doll, something precious, meant to be treasured, as he whispers, “I was so blind. For so long. I thought you would never feel that way about me, and so I tried to move on with Talisa. She was never my first love. It was always you.”

You look up at him, lips parted in surprise, “I… What?”

Robb smiles, that same smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling, blue irises dancing with mischief, “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what it was to be in love with someone. I was terrified you didn’t feel the same way, and so I hid it. I did my best to move on, but that’s the thing about you.” He tucks your hair behind your ears, leaning in as he whispers, “There’s no moving on from you, love.”

The tears finally begin to fall as he presses his lips to yours, soft and tender, filled with all the passion and love he has for you, years of unspoken feelings poured into this one beautiful kiss, this moment where the two of you finally admit how you feel for each other.

“I love you,” Robb whispers against your lips, “I love you more than anything in the world.”

You swallow thickly, barely holding back a sob, your voice cracking as you reply, “I love you too, Robbie. Fuck, I’ve always loved you.”

He smiles at you again, pressing his lips to your temple and pulling you into a tight hug, his warmth so familiar and so comforting. He takes your hand in his, leading you back inside the party, his mother and father giving the two of you knowing looks while Bran hands Arya a $20 bill. She smirks at the two of you, giving a mock salute.

And Robb? He kisses you again.

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Prologue

Next chapter

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Future NSFW, Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), Childbirth, Future Sexism & Misogyny (this is Westeros), Political Struggles, Future Deaths, Dark Themes, etc. etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom!

Author's Note: WHO ELSE SCREAMED AT THE HOTD SEASON 2 TEASER TRAILER????? The costumes, the cinematography, the set design, FUCKING BAELA ON MOONDANCER???? But this idea was something that had been on my mind for a while, and I am really excited to share it with all of you! Shoutout to @valeskafics whose works served as a HUGE inspiration to this idea! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

“PUSH!” yelled the midwife to the soon-to-be mother. “Lady Doreah, I can almost see the head!”

“Almost?” the poor woman cried out; her body had grown weary after experiencing a day’s worth of labour. Her hair clung to the sweat on her brow as the rest of her skin was soaked in perspiration from the pain. She cried out in agony as a gentle kiss from above attempted to soothe her from the torment that came with bringing new life into the world. Normally she would preen at such affection, but considering the circumstances she was in, she was in no mood for soft affections. “Ao nādrēsy! You did this to me!”

“Yes, my love,” agreed the man beside her. Unlike most husbands, Hotho Pyke refused to not remain by his beloved wife’s side during the birth of their child. He wanted to welcome the product of their love into the world with open arms. He was desperate to hold this new tiny babe in his arms as his fingers would trace over the features given to them by both their mother and father.

“You speak true my darling; I am a bastard. But if memory serves me right, it was my bastard birth that finally made you look my way after months of me begging for your attention. Well, that and a bit of my bastard tongue.” He tried to hide the wince that almost spilled from his lips at the furious grip on his hands in response of his wife. Even at the worst times, the man would never stop in his attempts to make her laugh. It was a most excellent quality in a husband in any other time but now.

“Gods help me Hotho – if this child does not come out of me soon, I will take my shears and cut out that bastard tongue of yours myself!” Doreah let out another scream as she continued to push her child out – although the pain was intense, the longing to hear the newest member of their family was greater than anything else she had felt in her lifetime.

“The baby is crowning!” exclaimed the midwife, who stood forgotten by the couple. “You are so close my lady, a few more pushes and you and your husband can welcome the newborn!”

This news filled Doreah with a newfound determination. Using every bit of her strength, she grasped her Hotho for support as she let out a furious yell as her body clenched to push out the newborn.

And after what seemed to both a lifetime and no time at all, powerful and shrill cries filled out every corner of the room. Not bothering to lean back against the pillows to rest, Doreah reached forward and demanded to hold her baby. She didn’t even care if you were a son or a daughter- you could have been a goat for all she cared. All she wanted to was to hold whomever had been growing inside her for the past nine months. She wanted to breathe in the scent of their skin and kiss their tiny faces. She wanted to love her child- her new world and her greatest love. Son, daughter, goat- Doreah knew that this child would forever be perfect in her eyes.

And perfect this child was indeed, and perfection suited their daughter.

Ten toes and ten fingers covered in blood, and kicking as hard an airborne goat, Doreah and Hotho wept as loudy as their newborn girl. It was only when the midwife insisted that she have the baby cleaned and wrapped in blankets were the two able to part with her. When you were returned to your mother’s arms, all felt right with the world as they continued to weep at the sight of the newest member of their small and strange family.

“Ziry's kesīr, īlva tala,” whispered Doreah with tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked up to gaze at her husband. “Gaomagon ao ūndegon zirȳla, ñuha jorrāelagon? Jurnegon rȳ zirȳla! Iksis ziry daor se olvie precious riña emā mirre ūndegīon!”

“I see her my coral,” whispered out her husband, whose face was soaked in tears in response to the overwhelming joy flowing within him. “Our pearl is beautiful. But most importantly, she is healthy and she is loved.”

He traced a finger across his daughter’s delicate features. Although you were currently sleeping, he knew that your eyes would take after hers, and he was ecstatic. There was a time when he believed that he would never love anything or anyone more than he loved the sea, only now there were two women in his life whom his love was consumed by entirely.

As the world slipped away into the background, the love from the new parents was so great it formed an almost impenetrable barrier surrounding them. But all peaceful things reach an end and theirs came from the knocking of a serving girl.

“My Lord and Lady…Pyke,” came a new voice, clearly disgusted by the act of referring a bastard as a lord, “if the Lady is presentable, the Queen Alicent would like to come in to see the child.”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Doreah. “Please let her in! I would be most honored to have Alicent meet my sweet pearl!”

“My brightest coral, are you sure? You just went through birth. Queen or not, shouldn’t you recover before she asks your attention?”

Hotho Pyke was an impoverished bastard born from the Iron Islands. He knew how to predict wind patterns and navigate with the stars before he could write. His skills as a seafarer were so great that he caught the attention of Lord Corlys of House Velaryon who sat on the Driftwood Throne. But however impressive his skills were with a sail, there was still much to be desired with his knowledge of etiquette appropriate for the Royal Court of the Red Keep in the Crownlands. His raised brow and confused tone suggested that he believed his question to be one borne of common sense despite the horrified expressions on everyone else’s faces save for his wife.

“Hotho, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Doreah tiredly chuckled as she shook her head, “there is still so much for you to learn about the Red Keep. Please Jeyne, let the Queen enter. I want her to meet our pearl!”

Almost immediately, a heavily pregnant figure in resplendent green and gold came dashing into the room in hopes to be the first to reach the bedridden woman and greet the child.

“Doreah!” exclaimed out the queen, relieved that her dearest friend had survived the trials of birth with the result of a healthy child. “Let me see you! How are you? Are you sure you are well? Do you need anything for the pain?”

Doreah couldn’t help but laugh at the onslaught of questioning from her fretful childhood friend. Since they were still just young girls, Alicent Targaryen nee Hightower always worried about the seamstress’ health and wellbeing despite being a few years younger. She fondly looked back on the days when she and her would peacefully discuss about their days as they worked on their embroidery or took lessons from the Head Septa. Handing their daughter to her husband to hold, she reached out to her friend in attempt to soothe her worries.

“Alicent, I am fine. Truly, there is no need to fret so much.” Doreah reassured her friend before looking back to the love of her life. “Besides, I was never in any danger. Not with my brave Iron Knight by my side the entire time.”

Still holding their radiant babe, Hotho Pyke beamed at his wife’s tender words before laying kisses on her hands, her fingers, the top of her hairline, before eventually stopping at her lips.

Alicent, however, was less than pleased at the shameless display of affection shared between the couple.

“Ser Pyke,” – she refused to refer a bastard of all things as a lord – “surely you know that men are not permitted in the birthing room during the delivery. I thought that this was made clear to you when you first learned of your wife’s pregnancy.”

Not recognizing the insult in being referred as “Ser” as opposed to “Lord,” Hotho only took the queen’s words as a sign of worry for her favored companion.

“My mother would rise from her watery grave to string me by my feet and call me a cunt if she knew that I left my wife alone in bringing our child into the world. Besides, had I not been in the room, she would have let her vicious tongue loose on another unfortunate soul.”

“In any case, are you sure you should not be resting? You are carrying the King’s child, surely that takes priority over seeing me.” Doreah knew that this pregnancy had been particularly difficult for Alicent, recalling the many times she walked in on her kneeling before her chamber pots in emptying out the contents of her stomach.

“Nonsense,” replied Alicent, who shook her head at the statement, “there is no one more important to me at this moment than you, sweet Doreah. I just hope that your husband’s brash tongue does not influence such a young innocent.”

“Ah, no worries my Queen. The brashness of my tongue is no match for that of my wife. She proved that many a time in our quarters.”

The Iron Island-born bastard was promptly cut off by a swift slap on the arm from his wife.

Before Alicent could respond to such vulgarity, she was interrupted by the presence of another figure dressed in a gorgeous red and black dress patterned with masterful gold embroidery.

“Rhaenyra!” Doreah exclaimed in excitement, happy to have not one but two of her closest friends greet her daughter. “You did not have to come! Are you sure you are not currently preoccupied with your duties?”

“Oh, please,” the princess uttered, “what could possibly be more important at this moment than to greet the firstborn of Laenor and I’s closest friends?”

Walking over to Hotho’s side, Rhaenyra was entranced by the sight of the newly arrived babe. She could already see how you would grow to be the spitting image of your mother.

“May I hold her?” she asked with arms already reaching toward your father.

Looking back to his wife to make sure she approved of it, he carefully handed you to Rhaenyra – but not before he laid a dozen kisses on your face.

“Oh Doreah,” Rhaenyra softly cooed, “she is absolutely perfect. I can tell that she will grow up to be as kind and beautiful as her mother.”

“Oh, Rhaenyra,” tears filled your mother’s eyes at her friend’s kind words, “kirimvose.” She turned to Alicent, who was currently sitting beside the bed in a chair brought to her to ease the stress on her body from her third pregnancy. Your mother reached one arm to each of her friends as a way to show solidarity. “Thank you to the both of you. I would not be where I am now – so happy and full of love – without the both of you here to guide me through the Red Keep. I owe you two everything. I only hope that our children can remain as friends so that they will never know loneliness.”

If your mother knew of the cruel fate she thrust onto you with that wish, she would have given everything to the gods in hopes to free you.

Your father took you back into his arms before handing you once more to your mother. Although you had woken from your slumber, you made no noise. You only gazed at the figures surrounding you with wide and eager eyes. Ever so slightly, you reached out your hand to paw at the green fabric of the queen.

So young, and you already seemed to recognize the beauty in the custom-made garment.

Alicent laughed in a way that was so genuine that it seemed unfamiliar, fascinated by the fervent grabbing of her dress on your end.

“It seems that this little one will be a seamstress as well,” she stated as she reached forward to let you pull and tug at her sleeve in enraptured delight, “I can only imagine what talent she will possess.”

“What will you name her?” Rhaenyra asked, hoping that you will be blessed with a name with Valyrian roots.

But a shared glance between your parents showed that they had already decided a name for you far before this day.

“Ashirri, Ashirri Pyke” your mother confidently stated, “in honor of both our cultures.”

Your father grasped his wife’s shoulder in agreement. “We will never let our child feel she must restrict herself to one background. As her parents, we want to let her know that her world will be one of endless possibilities.”

On this day, Doreah Pyke gave birth to a child for her and her husband to raise. This child will be raised with so much love that it will not matter that you were born from two bastard parents, one from Essos and the other from the Iron Islands. No, you were born as a result of the love from two people from opposite sides of the world who miraculously found one another, and that was all that would matter in the end. Doreah would teach you an art that could only be made through masterfully crafted embroidery and needlework, while Hotho will teach you how to use the stars to navigate waters and open their horizons to an endless sea of possibilities.

And if you did not wish to become either a seamstress or a sailor, it made no difference to them. Westeros, Essos, the Red Keep, the Iron Islands – the world was your oyster, and you were the miraculous pearl.

Their child will not be like the close-minded fools of their homelands, but someone whose mind will be open to new opportunities and will never stop seeing the joy in discovering the unknown. And they would always be there to help guide you in any way the could. Nothing would ever come between the love your parents held for you.

If only the gods could allow for such happiness to last forever.

But dragons have a tendency to burn rather than create, especially ones with sapphire for eyes and strong blood in their veins.

Translations:

"Ao nādrēsy!" - You Bastard!

"Ziry's kesīr, īlva tala... Gaomagon ao ūndegon zirȳla, ñuha jorrāelagon? Jurnegon rȳ zirȳla! Iksis ziry daor se olvie precious riña emā mirre ūndegīon!" - She's here, our daughter. Do you see her, my love? Look at her! Is she not the most precious child you have ever seen?

"ñuha jorrāelagon" - my love

kirimvose - Thank you

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @aphroditesmoon, @nighttwingg, @marvelescvpe, @nellychick, @its-actually-minicika, @biancaweasley