House Blackwood - Tumblr Posts

Bracken | Blackwood

My Asoiaf DR moodboard

Lord Royce Blackwood | Lord of Raventree Hall | The Blackheart

Son of Lord Quentyn Blackwood and Lady Gillianne Belmore

Husband of Princess Baela Targaryen

Father of Alyssa, Visenna and Alarrick Blackwood

Only once did he put physical strength above composure. It was not the greatest of days, but it was certainly the most memorable among them.

~~~

The second day of posting about my Asoiaf DR family and this time is all about my father.

That's the interesting one because at first I was mostly thinking about the relationship between me and mother and I was sure that I will get stronger bond with her than with my father. Now I see that I'm closer with him than I ever expect I will be.

He is a total role model for me even if I see his flaws. I just love how he is always trying to become better than he already is but without beign navel - gazing or vain. And that goes for being a lord and a leader but also a husband, father and protector. He just never stop to care even thought many do.

I'm grateful that he raised me the way he does. That he was never trying to force me to a role of proper lady neither a warrior (I'm naturally a bit of both I think). He let me by in my own ways which is truly a lot sometimes.

hi hello i love house blackwood so much this has nothing to do with anything but ive been thinking about their whole history their over the top commitment to the aesthetics and about tytos fashion icon blackwood and i needed to tell someone about it, also for sure tytos developed his sick sense of style as another way to outshine the brackens like you better believe he flaunts his raven feather cape anytime jonos is even in the room

The blackwoods are so underrated… Ben & Aly Blackwood from f&b are so iconic, not to mention our favorite omniscient living tree brynden rivers… I really hope we see more of them in twow

Also this is tytos blackwood:

YYEEAAHHH BABY it’s the Blackwoods vs. the Brackens next ep oh how i live for their beef

CD:PRINCE LUCERYS (MATTIA)@tiktok

"You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it."- Daemon Targaryen

T.N. || I know I'll love you

Summary: Time has built a painful distance between you and Theodore, but the love between the two of you seems to attract you to each other like a magnet.

Warning: Just very romantic and a little sad.

Requests are open!

His relationship with Theodore always seemed to be the epitome of the perfect romance in the eyes of everyone around. Since childhood, your souls seemed to be intertwined, and the magic that emanated from you was palpable. Your love flourished in adolescence with the promise of a future together, fueled by the acceptance of your families and the security of a shared destiny.

But then, as if the universe had turned against the beauty of its history, Voldemort's ascension plunged Hogwarts into an inescapable darkness. The presence of the Dark Lord haunted every corner of the castle, and the shadow of his influence extended to the hearts of the children of his followers. Theodore was no exception. In charge of fulfilling Voldemort's own orders, he was assigned to follow Draco Malfoy as a bodyguard, a silent watchman of his duties.

The distance between you began to expand like a painful and irreparable fissure. Visits to your room, once so frequent, have become rare and impersonal. The stealthy exits that were once dedicated to secret encounters and suits were now only brief appearances before he disappeared again to fulfill his dark obligations. Theodore seemed to change before his eyes, his brightness, once so vibrant, slowly fading out, leaving a disconcerting emptiness in the place of love that once warmed him.

You tried everything to recover the Theodore you knew and loved, but your efforts were in vain. The moment of greatest desolation came when the black mark stamped on his forearm, a cruel symbol of his loyalty to the Dark Lord. The pain of this moment was accentuated by the distance that Theodore created between you, moving away until your encounters became non-existent and your looks in the corridors stop. You, who were once inseparable, now saw yourself as strangers in a scenario that once seemed to be your refuge.

The war does not ask for permission from lovers or families; it simply invades and wreaks havoc. For you, the war brought a painful and abrupt separation. Your parents, fearing for your safety and the emotional impact that the war was causing, decided to send you away, a desperate escape to safeguard what was left of your innocence.

Since that day, your mind and heart have never left Hogwarts. The memory of Theodore and the anguish for the loss of his old life kept his chest tight and his spirit in constant restlessness. Time has passed, and even though the news that Theodore was well was a small consolation, it was still a light in the darkness, a thread of hope that you used to try, despite all the difficulties, to move on.

With the fall of Voldemort, your family decided it was time for you to get married, and so did a few months after the devastation. Alistair Blackwood was the chosen one, a young man a few years older, who his parents considered a good match for you. He seemed to be a viable option, but your marriage to him was marked by a kind of cold cordiality, an emotional distance that you struggled to fill, but never really managed to overcome.

Alistair, despite his good intentions, could not completely hide the pain of knowing that his heart still belonged to Theodore. He realized this at a particularly painful moment: one day, when he found his diary abandoned on a table in the library of his vast mansion, he read his old words, the descriptions of the love you felt for Theodore. Every page, every word, hit him like a sharp blade, revealing a wound that he did not know existed, but that now hurt deeply. Sadness and resignation filled his eyes when he realized that, despite his attempt to build a new future, the past still maintained a cruel squeeze on his heart.

For Theodore, the world became a stage of pain and desolation after the war. Every time his eyes crossed the corridors of Hogwarts, it was a painful reminder of the absence that his presence had become. The act of pretending not to see you, of maintaining a facade of indifference while feeling a devastating loss inside, slowly corroded him. That daily act of self-sufficiency was like a constant torment, a constant reminder of what had been torn from him.

When the war reached its climax, and chaos ravaged the castle, Theodore could not avoid the emptiness that swet on him after his departure. The absence of his presence by his side, the absence of love that once illuminated his days, made him feel lost, as if he were sailing aimlessly in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Every day without you was a silent fight, a battle against the sadness that seemed to spread throughout every aspect of your life.

The news of his marriage to Alistair Blackwood was an even more devastating blow. The impact of this revelation was so strong that he could hardly deal with the reality that the future he had dreamed of next to him had been completely undone. The pain was not only emotional, but almost physical, a weight that crushed him from the inside as he struggled to maintain his composure and rebuild what was left of his family name. Theodore tried to stand firm, but the truth was that, every day, the feeling of defeat and loss seemed to deepen.

Secretly, Theodore dedicated himself to the search for you. He searched the newspapers, anxiously observing any mention of the last name Blackwood, hoping to find some clue, some indication of where you could be. Every time you read a news story, your heart beat faster, a silent hope lit up only to be crushed by the reality that you were not there. The pages of the newspapers became a reflection of his endless search, and every time he did not find his name, the discouragement deepened. Theodore felt like he was running after a ghost, desperately trying to fill the void you had left in your life.

However, his hopes grew with the arrival of a certain invitation.

Draco and Astória's wedding was a stunning event, a glimpse of the past amid the elegance of the present. The hall was magnificently decorated with white and golden flowers, and the orchestra played classic melodies that enveloped the environment with an aura of nostalgia and sophistication. The conversations were soft, and the joy of the reunion with old friends filled the air.

You felt warmly welcomed by friends you haven't seen in a long time. Pansy and Blaise were the first to approach, their expressions revealing a mixture of longing and happiness. Pansy wrapped you in an affectionate hug, while Blaise greeted you with a genuine smile. The return to that known world, even if only for one night, was a balm for your soul.

The most anticipated moment of the night, however, was about to happen without you noticing. Theodore, with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him, arrived at the party. Your gaze was immediately attracted to you, and although you did not notice your observation, Theodore saw it in a way that no one else could understand.

For Theodore, the sight of you, radiant in an elegant dress, was like a direct blow to the heart. Time seemed to stop as he watched her, and the world around him faded. His expression carried a mixture of surprise and a deep longing, a reflection of the emotions he had kept so carefully since the last time they met. The pain of separation, the weight of memories and the love he never managed to erase were now evident in his eyes.

Alistair, your husband, was attentive to the dynamics of the party and noticed the intensity with which Theodore watched you. Alistair's reaction was subtle, but noticeable. He felt a wave of restlessness when he saw Theodore's fixed gaze and the way he seemed to absorb every detail of his. It was a look that conveyed more than words could express, a connection that seemed to challenge time and distance.

As the party continued with his charming music and waltz dance, Theodore kept his gaze on you, every gesture and smile of him capturing your attention in an almost hypnotic way. In his eyes, there was a melancholic sadness, a reflection of the pain he carried for being separated from you and the desire for a connection that had never completely disappeared. He watched you interact with your friends, every laugh and gesture he shared with them evoking memories of a simpler and happier time.

Alistair noticed the growing tension and, although he tried to maintain his composure, he could not ignore the silent rivalry that seemed to hover in the air. Theodore's presence was a constant reminder of the complexity of his own feelings and the shadow that the past still cast on his present. The party, with all its joy and celebration, contrasted with the internal whirlwind that Theodore and Alistair faced, a silent battle of emotions and unresolved memories.

The wedding was in full swing, and the hall continued to be filled with the soft melody of the orchestra and the lively whispers of the guests. The brightness of the lights reflected in the eyes of those present, but nothing seemed to overshadow the subtle tension that unfolded in the air between you, Theodore and Alistair.

At one point, Alistair, with a carefully calculated gesture, approached you, with the clear intention of affirming your presence and that of your marriage. His gaze was firm and safe, and he took the initiative to position himself next to you, wrapping you in a friendly hug and talking excitedly about the details of the party. Alistair's intention was evident: he wanted to make it clear to Theodore, without words, that his place next to him was occupied.

And it worked. Theodore, who was at a reasonable distance, felt the change in the environment. When encountering his gaze occasionally with Alistair's, the sad glow in his eyes became a little colder, almost as if an invisible barrier had erected between him and the woman who still occupied such a deep place in his heart. The few moments when their eyes crossed were loaded with a palpable tension, a reflection of the pain and loss that they both carried, although in different ways.

You, oblivious to the silent battle that unfolded, continued to get involved in the conversations and hugs of reunion. The environment was full of joy and celebration, and you did the best you could to get involved in the festivity. However, the presence of Theodore and the subtlety of Alistair's behavior added a complex layer to his experience of the night, a constant reminder that, even in the midst of the celebration, the past and his unresolved emotions were always present.

As the party progressed, the feeling of a silent rivalry grew, and the moments when his eyes crossed with Theodore were loaded with a melancholy that you could not fully understand. Alistair, on the other hand, was attentive to every nuance of the situation, trying to balance the need to show his position with the silent understanding that Theodore's presence was a painful reminder for everyone involved.

The salon was charming. Shimmering lights were reflected in the crystals of the chandeliers, and the dance floor was full of elegantly dressed guests, sliding gracefully to the sound of the waltz. Among the groups of friends and acquaintances, you and Pansy met in a corner, watching the scene with a mixture of nostalgia and pleasure.

Alistair, realizing the need for a break, walked away momentarily, leaving you alone with Pansy. The lively murmur of the party filled the environment, but his gaze met that of Theodore, who approached with a silent determination and a familiar glow. Pansy, noticing the increasing tension, decided to withdraw with a quick "I'm going to get something to drink", leaving you and Theodore alone.

- Y/N! - Theodore's voice resonated with the same melody you had kept in your memory, making your heart accelerate. His feelings clashed in a whirlwind of emotions.

- Hi, Theo. - You tried to smile, but the trembling in your voice denounced your nervousness. - How are you?

- I'm fine. - Theodore paused, his eyes fixed on you with a depth that seemed to go through the years of separation. - You look beautiful, as always.

- Thank you. - Your voice came out softly, and you looked away for a moment, drowned in feelings. - And you? What have you been doing? - The question was an effort to probe your life, and perhaps your most recent feelings.

- Oh, well, I've been dedicating myself to my family's business since... since it all happened. - Theodore smiled slightly, a smile that seemed to carry the pain of a shared past.

- I understand. And have you liked it? I remember you used to say you would never do that. - You smiled gently, and the warmth of your smile warmed Theodore's chest, like a comforting memory of times gone by.

- Yes, of course. - Theodore laughed slightly. - At that time, I didn't understand the importance of some things. So, disregard some of the things I said. - Your sentence carried an emotional weight that you both understood, creating a subtle tension between you.

The conversation flowed, initially recalling the good moments of the school, bringing a brief relief to the tension. But Theodore seemed determined to reopen old wounds.

- Y/N, I know I shouldn't bring this up, but I feel like I need to apologize for the way I handled things a few years ago. I was just a boy and... - He looked away, and you interrupted him gently.

- Theodore, don't apologize. Everything is fine. I understand... - Your eyes met again, offering a comforting smile. But before the conversation could continue, Alistair reappeared by his side.

Alistair approached, putting an arm around his waist in a protective way, while his gaze fixed on Theodore. Theodore's frustration was visible, a reflection of the tension that now permeated the environment.

- Oh, Theodore, this is Alistair, my husband. Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves before. - His smile was kind, but the tension between the two men was palpable.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Theodore. - Alistair's voice was firm and controlled, as he reached out for a squeeze. Theodore responded with a polite gesture, but the coldness in his eyes could not be disguised.

- Would you like to dance, dear? - Alistair turned to you, and you nodded with a smile.

- Of course. - You answered, but before you walked away, you said: - It was great to see you again, Theo. - The nickname, combined with the sparkle in your eyes, brought a sincere smile to Theodore's face. The flame of hope in his eyes lit up, even as he watched you move away, sliding among the dancing guests, like a living memory of a love that never went out.

After that night at the wedding of Draco and Astória, the flame of passion between you and Theodore seemed more alive than ever. It was as if the brief encounter full of emotions had rekindled a feeling that, despite the years away, never completely extinguished. Theodore became increasingly determined to get closer to school friends, especially because he knew that, by attending these meetings, he would have the chance to see her again.

The cycle of dinners and meetings between long-time friends has become a new routine for Theodore. Each social event offered an opportunity for him to be close to you, to observe from afar, and to feel, even in small doses, the presence he had missed for so long. He was not the only one to seek reconnection; you also attended these events with a renewed hope, a silent desire to rediscover the one who has always occupied a special place in your heart. The atmosphere of the dinners was always vibrant, a mixture of laughter and conversations that evoked memories of the past. His presence at these events became a reflection of his desire to restore something that was lost.

With each new encounter, his heart beat in the expectation of seeing Theodore, and every time he appeared, it was as if time had stopped. There was an intensity in the air, an almost palpable electricity, which was only amplified by the way he looked at you, with a mixture of hope and repressed desire. The feeling that something significant was about to happen hovered over these encounters, an invisible thread connecting the past to the present.

Alistair, her husband, always accompanied him at these dinners. He made a point of reaffirming his presence by his side, something that Theodore observed with a mixture of resignation and hope. Alistair seemed to understand the value of these encounters and, although it was a constant support, his role also carried a certain degree of unspoken tension. Lately, Alistair was absent from some of these dinners due to his work trips, which Theodore secretly thanked. These moments of her husband's absence offered Theodore an opportunity to get a little closer, to let his words and looks insinuate what could not be said directly.

Each absence of Alistair at a dinner seemed to open a small gap for Theodore, allowing him to be closer to you, to talk more, to feel the warmth of his presence for a little longer. Although respect for your situation and the presence of your husband was always present, the underlying tension between you and Theodore continued to grow, fueling a silent hope that, perhaps one day, circumstances would change.

That cold night, while the wind whispered softly and the stars shone with a dim light, you found yourself alone on Pansy's balcony, contemplating the horizon that merged with the night sky. The distant murmur of the party inside the house was muffled by the breeze, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted with the whirlwind of feelings in his chest.

That's when you looked at the door and saw Theodore's silhouette protruding at the entrance. His vision made his heart accelerate instantly, as if every memory, every long-kept feeling, had been revived by his simple presence. He advanced with a soft smile, and you were slightly frightened by your unexpected arrival.

- I didn't think I would meet you here - you said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice when you saw it appear on the balcony.

Theodore smiled, a glow of longing and affection illuminating his eyes, which seemed to reflect the mystery and melancholy of the night. He positioned himself by your side, and his closeness immediately brought a sense of intimacy that you haven't felt in a long time.

- I could say the same about you - he replied, his voice loaded with a playful tone that barely disguised the depth of the feelings he struggled to contain. - You disappeared so quickly from the party that I had to come after you.

His laughter was a soft echo in the stillness of the night, a sound that seemed suspended in the air, loaded with repressed emotions. Theodore's presence was causing a whirlwind of feelings within you, and he leaned slightly, his eyes fixed on yours, while his smile softened in a familiar warmth.

- I've always loved hearing your laugh... - Theodore murmured, the sincerity in his voice so palpable that it almost looked like a caress. You were silent, absorbing the intensity of your words, until he continued in an almost whispering tone. - I miss you, more than you can imagine.

Your heart accelerated with the unexpected confession, and you struggled to maintain your composure. The conversation quickly turned into a moment charged with an intensity that seemed to crush the space between you.

- Theodore... - you started, your hesitant voice, but with a glow of hope and vulnerability.

He took a step closer, his hand touching his in a delicate way, a gesture that sent a chill all over his body. His touch seemed to connect all the wires of a shared past, relighting a flame that you thought had been extinguished.

- I know time has passed, and the way I left you was horrible. - Theodore interrupted, his voice low and loaded with intensity. - But I never... I've never forgotten about you, Y/N.

His confession hovered in the air as a long-kept secret, the truth finally revealed. Your heart was beating out of step, and Theodore's words reverberated deep inside you. The cold and silent night seemed to have turned into a stage for a new and painful truth, and the feeling of being on the verge of something significant became almost palpable.

- You don't know how much I've looked for you since it all ended, and seeing that you moved on was devastating. - Theodore, who once seemed insecure, now gathered all the strength he had to open up to you. - But then, at the wedding, when I saw you again, everything was clear to me...

- Theodore, no... - you tried to interrupt with a low voice, the emotion mixing with the confusion.

- That night, I saw in your eyes something I couldn't ignore. I know you still feel the same, Y/N, I know you do. - Theodore insisted, his voice almost begging for a confirmation.

You took a step back, your gaze deviating as conflicting feelings disrupted your interior. The desire to be embraced by him fought against the reality of his current situation. What would come next was uncertain, but at that moment, what mattered was the sincerity of feelings and the intensity of a love that seemed to have resisted time and adversity.

- Theodore, I... - You hesitated, your words mixing with the emotional whirlwind inside you. - It's so complicated, and I don't know if I'm ready to face it now.

He took a step closer, his expression becoming even more intense. His eyes, fixed on yours, seemed to beg for an answer he knew was the truth, even if you hesitated.

- I understand it's difficult, but... - Theodore whispered, his voice loaded with urgency. - I can't stay here and pretend I don't feel it. Every moment I pass away from you, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself.

Your chest hurt with the sincerity of your words, and you struggled to organize your thoughts. The desire to be close to him, to relive the connection you shared, was so strong that it seemed almost irresistible. You looked at him, his visible vulnerability.

- Theodore, I feel it too... - You started, your words getting entangled with emotion. - But there are so many things at stake...

- I know - he interrupted gently, his hand wrapping yours with a delicacy that seemed to disarm all your defenses. - But, please, just allow me to be close to you, even if it's only for now. I don't want to miss this chance.

You felt his warm presence, the gentle touch of his hand, and his voice became a murmur just for the two of you. The world seemed to disappear around as the two got even closer, the space between you decreasing every second.

- Theodore... - You murmured, your voice failing, almost inaudible.

He tilted his head, his forehead almost touching his, and his eyes closed for a moment. He was so close, and you could feel his breathing mixing with yours. Time seemed to drag on, the world reducing itself to this moment of intensity.

- There is nothing more I want than to be here with you now - he whispered, his voice loaded with a deep devotion.

You closed your eyes, and Theodore's proximity made your heart accelerate even more. He hesitated for a moment, seeking permission in his gaze before slowly leaning forward. His lips found yours in a soft and tender kiss, as if he were rediscovering something that should never have been lost.

The kiss was a mixture of longing and desire, a reassessment of everything you had experienced. The repressed emotions, the pain, the love - everything merged in that contact, transforming the cold night into something warm and comforting. Every touch, every shared breath, was a reminder that, despite the years and separations, the love between you still remained intense and unchanged.

After the kiss, you slowly walked away, your hearts still racing, and a soft and sincere smile appeared on the lips of both of you. The expression on their faces was a reflection of relief and happiness, as if the world around it had bowed to allow this special moment.

Theodore looked at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate your soul. His eyes shone with a combination of love and vulnerability, and he seemed more present than ever. He bowed a little more, his face still close to yours, and his voice, now an almost reverent whisper, filled the silence of the night.

- I love you. - Theodore murmured, his words loaded with a deep and disarming sincerity.

Your chest was filled with a mixture of joy and emotion when you heard these words, and you felt a wave of heat and comfort knowing that your feelings were equally intense and true. The confession hovered in the air between you, a testimony of love that still burned strong despite the years and separations.

Without giving time for any other words to be said, Theodore again connected his lips to his own, this time with a deeper and more urgent passion. The kiss was more intense, more full of meaning, as if it were trying to express all the love and longing accumulated during the years away. Every touch of your lips seemed like a silent promise that, despite everything, you were still destined to be together.

The intensity of the kiss seemed to transform the time and space around, making everything clearer and simpler. The outside world disappeared, and the only thing that mattered was the connection between the two of you, renewed and stronger than ever.

_______________________________

masterlist here

A/N: Guys, I apologize for the delays in the publication and the errors during the text. I want to remind you that English is not my original language, so there will probably be mistakes☹️

xoxo, bee🫶🏼🫶🏼

who the fuck is davos blackwood

WHERE IS BLOODY BEN???

ryan condal i'm in your fucking walls istg

I'm still mad about this

HBO absolutely wasted his casting but he ate his 5 seconds

Guys give us some fanfics please 🤭🤭🥰

My blood covered, sexy deranged man

Credit/source: Kieran Burton’s instagram

From Eden. Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (Part two here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* summary: caught in the brewing of war, Daenys Velaryon must forge alliances for her mother's claim to the throne. The Riverlands are paramount and she had the inexplicable luck of meeting Benjicot Blackwood.

✧.* word count: 11k.

✧.* note: this is a whopping long imagine. thank you all for the support on the preview. this is brought to you by instant ramen and my inability to focus on coursework. no beta reader as I live life on the edge (truthfully i do not have any)

A loud clap of thunder followed in succession by the flashing of lightning illuminated the library of Dragonstone. In the late hour of the wolf, Daenys found herself entombed within the walls of parchment, scanning drawn-up battle plans and strategies written by maesters who had nary seen a single battle. The feeling of ever-present stress loomed over her, creeping from the shadows that were not illuminated by scattered candles. That feeling of anxiety - pressing down harshly on her chest - had been a footnote in her life. 

Daenys did not need to be a dragon dreamer, like her namesake, to see the future of her house. War was coming, that much was obvious. She knew at the age of nine that her mother’s claim would be challenged and since then her life had been spent preparing. The intensity of conflict did not matter, Daenys would be prepared regardless. So, like most nights, she had settled herself among the pages of books. Her body, worn from training all day, had relished in the feeling of sitting down in a plush chair. 

The book in her lap, An Analysis of Ground Moves of the First Dornish War, had begun to kill her mood. The maestor who wrote it had no skill of explanation, nor seemed to have care for fighting in general. She cursed his weak analyses on certain moves and more outwardly she cursed the tone in which he wrote when speaking of her Targaryen ancestors - in particular the women. Daenys leaned back in her chair and repressed the urge to chuck to tome across the room. All that access to knowledge and training yet maesters still seemed to fall short. 

The echoes of footsteps sounded between claps of thunder. Daenys glanced up to see her mother. Rhaenyra had her hair down in light waves. The nightclothes she wore were made from black and red fabrics and stitched in the fashion of dragon-influenced style, part of a matching set that the two women shared. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth set in a line. The heir apparent sat down in the chair beside her daughter and glanced at the book in Daenys lap. 

“The hour is late, yet you are out of bed?” 

Daenys’ arms rested on the book, “Sleep could not come.” 

“Or have you run from sleep? Increasingly so, as of late.” Her mother’s observation cut deep. It was true, for Daenys had become antsy. More and more nights were spent reading, and even more days training with the sword. Exhaustion had become her friend and respite her enemy. She felt behind, as her training had only started a few years prior - after years of requesting to learn. Any day a war could break, yet she sat about for most of her life doing nothing but sewing and other pointless tasks to be a good wife.

“Don’t you feel it, mother? That sinking feeling of... something clawing at your feet for that damned throne.” Daenys’ gaze rose to meet Rhaenyra. As her mother's only daughter by birth, they held a certain bond. The ability to understand what one another wished to say without so much as a word. A twitch of the brow, a quiver of the lip, or the tilt of their head was worth more than what any uttered words could convey. Mother and daughter, one unable to live without the other. Like bees and flowers or the moon and sun. A push and pull of exchange. Rhaenyra knew her daughter wanted to help, and it crushed her. She wanted Daenys to live without that fear - to relish in her days as a princess. 

“The burden is not yours to bear alone,” Daenys spoke after a minute of silence. Rhaenyra sported a fleeting smile at her daughter's words. 

“I know, but it does not pain me any less,” Rhaenyra adjusted in her seat, “Is there anything you wish to discuss about it?” 

“We need the Riverlands.” There was not a moment of pause between her mother's question and the answer. “There is loyalty secured in many regions, especially the North, but the Riverlands are important. We do not have a strong enough hold there.” 

Rhaenyra resisted smiling at Daenys eagerness in politics. Had she been born minutes before Jacaerys instead of afterwards, Rhaenyra would have been confident in claiming her as heir. Jacaerys, as dutiful as he could be, was still lagging in comparison to his twin regarding diplomacy. 

“And how do you propose to remedy this?” 

Daenys paused, reluctance flashed across her face for a moment but she pushed it down. “I have to marry.” Rhaenyra tilted her head in a questioning manner but Danys continued, “I know I have been against it, but you need a strong foothold in those lands. Many major battles in history are fought there and if our house is to remain strong, we must command as much of it as possible.” 

“The Tully’s have no available members to marry.” 

“We needn't rely on House Tully. There are other houses there that are sure to have available sons. House Frey, Mooton, Bracken, Mudd, Blackwood, Lothston, and many more. One that is as close to the Tully’s as possible and stocked with a good amount of soldiers.” Daenys’ gaze swept along the darkened room, the bookshelves being illuminated by a small number of candles and the raging storm outside. 

“I want you to be happy-” 

“My happiness is seeing you on that throne. Mother, you deserve it more than any other fat and drunk lord who lives on the continent.” The women giggled, and for a brief moment the storm outside - political and natural - ceased to exist. 

“This is what you want?” Rhaenyra held her breath after she asked. Daenys nodded gently. They once again settled into a silence, their eyes focused on the flames inside the hearth. More thunderous roars from outside continued to assail Dragonstone. “I have some news, of which only a few know.” 

Daenys sat up straighter, intrigued with what her mother had brought up. She marked her spot in the book and placed it on the small table beside her chair. Her body turned to see her mother more clearly. 

“I am with child.” Rhaenyra’s words echoed in the room, “It was just confirmed this morning with the maester.” 

“That’s good news, mother, truly.” Daenys reached out to hold Rhaenyra’s hand. They both smiled, content to last in their bubble.

“I think it's a girl. There is something about this pregnancy that feels different than all the rest.” The heir to the Iron Throne spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard above the raging storm. 

“Good. We’ve been dreadfully lacking women in the family. We are outnumbered.” Daenys looked back at her book, the title of the First Dornish War embossed into the leather binding, “Visenya.” 

Rhaenyra looked at her quizzically, and Daenys continued, “You should name her Visenya.” 

Her mother smiled gently and nodded, “I shall take that to heart. Now,” She got out of her seat, “Get to bed, ñuha prūmia.” Rhaenyra gave Daenys a gentle kiss on her forehead before walking away and out of the library. 

Daenys stayed in her seat, gazing mindlessly into the fireplace. Her heart was heavy. The prospect of marriage never worried her much. Any suitor that wished to court her quickly ran upon seeing her stepfather Daemon, who always seemed to grip Dark Sister tightly when they approached - a signal of warning. She never had to worry about ending up with a foul lord, or even end up marrying any time soon. Yet, her allegiance to her mother was stronger than any distaste for being wed. She got up and blew out some of the candles around her. 

She made her way across the library, down the many winding halls of Dragonstone, and into her bedchamber. Once settled at her vanity, she put her hair in a simple braid to protect it while she slept. Turning towards her bed, she spotted her sword resting against the chest placed at its foot. She walked over and unsheathed the steel. It was not Valyrian steel, unfortunately. But, the piece was expertly crafted at the behest of Daemon. Her hand gripped the hilt and the other gently traced the centre of the blade. 

Daenys swore that she would not make the task of gaining her hand easy for the Riverland lords. If her mother were to gain an ally, he would need to prove his worth. She had built up a reputation over the years. A beauty, that much is true, and the ability to charm members of the court easily, despite what some gossip about her parentage may say. However, upon being taught to fight by Daemon, she had managed to also build up a reputation for sharp wit and even sharper fighting skills. 

Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, so she moved to put the sword away and crawl into bed. Once settled, Daenys fell into a world of dreams. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys wished, with all her heart, that she could go back in time and club herself over the head for even suggesting a search for a husband in the Riverlands. The conversation with her mother two weeks ago quickly led to plans being laid. Daenys, on the back of her dragon Suneater, and her brother Jacaerys on the back of Vermax, had arrived at Riverrun to be greeted by Lord Elmo Tully. A kind old man, with dark red hair, streaked with the white of age. Daenys did not wish for her brother to accompany her, but Rhaenyra was adamant that she have a member of the family there to make sure she was not completely alone. Rhaenyra also added that it would help Jace’s claim to the throne more if he met and treated the lords of the Riverlands. 

However, the trip to the Riverlands quickly became sour. On the third day there after settling in, the petitions began. She was only a few hours in, and Daenys had already grown frightfully bored by the endless men - young and very much old - that made their case. Lord of this castle or that holdfast, it did not matter. All the men started to blend into one, with a few that managed to stand out. She sat on a raised dias in the grand hall of Riverrun, with Lord Tully to her right and Jace to her left. Occasionally, after a particularly awkward or gross petition, Jace and Daenys would glance at one another in complete awe. Daenys had underestimated the audacity of some men and now she finally understood why Rhaenyra had so many wild stories of overzealous lords making their petitions to her. At first, her stories seemed too odd to be fully real, but now in Daenys’ own few hours of experience, there was no doubt left in her. 

She leaned back and stifled a yawn as the old man in front of her droned on about his experience in some battle long ago. Lord Tully saw the princess's mood and leaned forward, “Thank you, Lord Ryger, for your attendance. It appears we shall end the petitions for the day and continue on the morrow.” 

Daenys resisted letting out a sigh of relief, though the look on Jace’s face showed he was just as relieved as her. Many men in the hall said their proper goodbyes, bowing to them before exiting. 

“Thank you, Lord Tully. It seems that I have many people to consider.” Daenys gave him a flattering smile, hoping that it could mask her previous displays of indifference. 

“That is good,” Lord Tully stood up and bowed to both her and Jace, “I shall you both at the feast tonight.” 

Once gone, Daenys sat up straighter in her seat and turned her torso towards her brother, “There’s to be a feast?” 

“Of course there is.” Jace smiled at the exasperated look on his sister's face. Truly, the whole time he had been rather entertained. A little bored, but ultimately found humour in his sister's expressions throughout the morning of lords' petitions. 

She leaned back in her seat and slid down slightly, sighing loudly. “A whole bloody feast.” Jace began to laugh, but Daenys would have none of it. “Don’t be too quick to humour, brother. All the lords who are already married are bound to have daughters, and as the future heir to the throne, I do believe they will flock to you like flies to shit.” 

“Are you saying I am the shit in your comparison?” The smile on Jace’s face faded. 

“You said it, Jace, not I.” She bounced to her feet and made her way towards the exit. 

Jace called out as she left, “And where are you off to?” 

“To Suneater,” Daenys responded while looking over her shoulder, “Lords cannot follow me into the sky.” She walked away to the sound of her brother's light chuckles. The dress she was wearing had begun to feel heavy on her, the weight of her mission to gain a good husband to aid in any possible future challenges to her mother seemed impossible. From the men she met so far… the outcome was looking bleak. There was one man who was closer to her age, yet every detail about him escaped her. Was it Aken… perhaps Barken… Breaker? The only detail worth noting about him was the garish yellow shade he wore, the rest was all exactly like every other man before. 

Daenys had changed into her riding leathers and gleefully made her way through the halls and to the courtyard. Upon exiting the castle, she glanced around the yard full of many men who were talking and sparring. The bustling laughter continued, with some lords near her choosing to greet her. Daenys pushed off many wishing to start a conversation with the excuse of going to visit her dragon. At the mere mention of her companion, the lords backed off. They are too fearful at the thought of a dragon, why do they think they are fit to marry one?

Glancing around at the fighting people while proceeding through the courtyard, she looked at a group. They were sporting red and black, and a feeling of homesickness washed over her. House Targaryen colours were familiar to her, mixed with Velaryon colours of course - for her father. The hushed voices of her uncles echoed in her mind; Bastard. 

Brushing that thought away, she decided to watch the group. The men dressed in those colours were sparring. A blond struggled against the blows from a dark-haired man, his lean and built form assailing with strength. 

It seemed that whenever the blond one got the upper hand, it only lasted for a short time. Daenys slowed her walking as she passed. While she was many metres away, she could still hear the words of encouragement and jest by the other men around them - dressed in the same colours of black and red. The blond man was facing her, and upon seeing the Princess, got momentarily distracted. The dark-haired man moved quickly, knocking his opponent to the ground in one fell swoop of his legs. The blond crashed to the ground and let out a string of curses, his clothes muddied. 

“Is the ground comfortable, Rickard?” The dark-haired man joked. The men around would have laughed, but their eyes moved to where the blond, Rickard, had his eyes. They all seemed frightened. Daenys could tell they were all around her age and most likely had never seen a member of the Royal family, given the fact that they were frozen on the spot. Rickard got up, albeit in a clumsy manner, and tilted his head down in a subtle bow with the rest of the men following. 

The dark-haired man turned and his eyes met hers. She could not gauge their colour, as she was standing a good few feet away. The grip on his sword slacked. He seemed stunned and a faint red coated his face. Daenys could not tell if it was from his training or her presence. He nodded to her and she hummed gently before nodding back to him and the other men. 

While Daenys was intrigued by those men, all she wanted was a reprieve from the men around her. She turned her body and continued on her previous course, oblivious to the stares that followed. On the other side of a hill - a fair distance from the gates of Riverrun - lay Suneater and Vermax. The two were beside one another, as their personalities blended. Occasionally, the two would clash much like her and Jace, but truly acted as siblings. Daenys felt the weight on her chest that accumulated throughout the day disappear. Finally, she could be free, even just for a while. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The hours had passed in mere moments. Daenys had begun her flight midday and had landed as the sun began to set, giving her just enough time to get to her chambers and have the maids prepare her for the feast. She was delighted that the courtyard was relatively empty, save for a few servants mulling about. No pesky conversations to derail her. 

However, Daenys heard the sound of grunting and the beating of a sword. She turned to a corner of the yard to see the same dark-haired man still training. The others had left, but he lingered on. His back was to her, but she doubted he would even notice her if he was facing in her direction. He seemed completely enraptured in the swings of his sword, as if the world had disappeared and here he remained. 

Daenys recognized this focus. She too felt that, albeit when riding her dragon. It was a feeling of belonging like there was nothing else meant for her to do. No more masking and pretending to feel like the people around her, just free to get lost in something she loved. The process of becoming a different person and getting lost in the way it makes you feel. She believed it must be a similar thing to the way he was fighting. She paused for a moment to study his form. Strong, but sly. With each stroke of the sword, images of the royal painters appeared in her mind. The art of their brush strokes mirrored that of the steel he swung. Calculated and precise, but free. Each time the steel met the straw dummy, it looked like paint hitting a canvas. 

Daenys did not wish to disturb his focus, but the burning intrigue of who this man was had overpowered that wish, “I do believe he is dead.” The man stopped with a jump and swung his body around in quick succession, his eyes alert. It was only upon seeing Daenys and assessing her as no immediate threat that he let his guard down. 

“Yes, princess, um… indeed.” His response made Daenys almost wish she did not disturb him. It was clear that he appeared slightly shy when not engrossed in combat. A part of her related to it. 

“I apologize for my earlier interruption. It was not my intention to have distracted your friend.” Daenys stepped close and leaned against a fence that connected to the large stables. She was within just a metre or two of the man and could now finally see him more clearly. He was a pleasant sight, exceedingly so compared to the dozens of men she met that morning. 

“You need not apologize, princess. It was his fault, he should have been focusing on the fight.” 

“Well, I hope he is alright from the fall, Lord…” Daenys trailed off, hoping to know his name. She thought back to her morning in the hall and meeting all the lords who contended for her hand. She could not remember him. That could not be right, she would remember a man who looked like that. It seemed that he was not there in the morning, most likely to see her in the days to come. 

“Benjicot Blackwood, your grace.” He nodded at her, his dark hair moved gently in the subtle breeze. 

“It is nice meeting you, Lord Blackwood.” Daenys smiled at him. She felt unusual, to be taken by charm so quickly and with so few words. She searched within her brain for any knowledge regarding the family. It was an old house, with roots deep within Westeros spanning back to the first men. Kings during the Age of Heroes. She remembered reading about their ability to field an army larger than that of House Tully, yet still bent the knee to them. 

“You flatter me, princess, but I am not Lord Blackwood yet. My father still presides over Raventree Hall.” Benjicot’s voice was calm, despite his appearance coming off as slightly nervous. 

“I am sorry, Lord Benjicot, for the misunderstanding.”

Ben broke eye contact and gazed around the courtyard for a moment before returning to her, “We seem to be apologizing repeatedly to one another, your grace.” 

“Yes, let us end that,” Daenys situated herself to sit on the fence, a rather unladylike action. She found that she could get away with that type of behaviour the further she was from the court of Kings Landing and Dragonstone. “What brings a member of House Blackwood to Riverrun at this time?” 

“Well, the crown princess happens to be visiting,” Ben answered. 

“I heard she is spoilt and vain.” Daenys joked.

Ben seemed to loosen up just slightly at her friendliness, “She is not so bad. Rather pleasant if you ask me.” The two stare at one another for a few moments, wondering which one would break the jest first. In a display of synchrony, they both smiled and let out a short burst of laughter. 

Daenys spoke after calming down, “So I am just pleasant, my lord?” 

“Yes, your grace, incredibly so.” Ben’s words sounded more sincere than expected and it caught Daenys slightly off guard. 

“You are not so bad, as well, Lord Benjicot. Incredibly so.” Daenys jumped down from the fence and brushed off her hands that were resting along the wood. “I hope you are not absent from the feast tonight as you were this morning. I should like to speak to you more, my lord.”

“I will be there princess.” 

The two both nodded to one another before Daenys began to walk away. As she retreated, she could not help but feel a little less stressed about the feast. Maybe the idea of being surrounded by boisterous lords, many eager to dance with her, would not be so bad if Benjicot Blackwood was there. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The band was in full swing. The echoes of their instruments, playing a quick jig, bounced off the vaulted walls of the great hall. People sat at multiple long tables and ate from the vast amounts of plated food. There were others out of their seats, conversing with groups or dancing in the centre of the room. Lord Tully was at the centre of a table position in front of all the others. The Velaryon twins sat on either side of him. Jacaerys and Lord Tully were engaged in deep conversation on a topic Daenys had little care for. She stared at her plate of food. No matter how hard she tried, Daenys could not will herself to eat. The nerves of this night and having countless men stare at her made her stomach ache and turn. 

A figure stood up at the table, bowing to all three of them. He was adorned in brown and a muted yellow colour, with the sigil of a red stallion on his chest. While Daenys did think it ugly, she could not say the same for his appearance. He had a slender figure, and his facial structure was pretty for a man. His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, most of it pulled into a tie at the back with some loose strands. 

“Lord Tully, Prince Jacaerys, Princess Daenys,” He started, “It would be an honour to ask the princess if she should like to dance.” 

“I believe my sister would love to join you,” Jace answered. 

Daenys kept her head facing the man while her eyes turned to the side. Jacaerys was looking at her, an amused smile on his face. She focused back on the man and put on a pleasant smile, “It would be my pleasure.” She slowly got out of her chair, hoping for some miracle to prevent their dance. A fire set in the hall, or perhaps the gods could shake the earth and swallow her whole. 

When the man took hold of her arm to escort her, Daenys turned around and mouthed to her brother: traitor. Jace just waved slightly and picked up a mug of ale. The two made their way to the dance floor and joined many others. Her hands clasped hers as they faced one another and began moving. Daenys had to concentrate on her footwork, as her dancing skills were never the greatest.

“Aeron Bracken, your grace. I am sure you remember me from this morning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget such a memorable petition… with ah… great accomplishments.” Daenys gave him a fake smile. She hoped that response would satisfy Aeron, as she truthfully had no memory of what his petition was. The words he had said sounded the same as all the rest, so despite not remembering, she could guess that they revolved around their accomplishments and house. 

“It gladens me that you have been thinking about me, your grace.” 

Daenys almost scoffed. Where did she ever mention thinking about him? Why would she think of him of all men? There was a brief flash of red and black in her vision, accompanied by a blur of dark hair. Swallowing her frustration down, she continued her womanly facade. 

“Yes, House Bracken is wonderful in their abilities and longstanding position in history.” The few things she knew about the house were their origins with the first men, and their proclivity to engage in petty disputes with other houses. She thought it best to not bring up the latter information. However, it did not seem that she would not have to bring it up as Aeron began to rant.

“There are some houses here that are not as fortunate or kind as mine. Some that are no good to be around, your grace.” Aeron’s face darkened slightly as his vision zeroed in on a group across the hall. Daenys turned and strained her eyes, for she was not as tall as him. Upon seeing through the crowd who he was looking at, her brows furrowed. Benjicot Blackwood stood conversing with a group of men at one of the tables. 

Aeron looked away and back at the princess, “I caution you with keeping the company of Blackwoods. They can be savage and cruel.” 

A flood of information swooped over her mind. A week prior to leaving for the Riverlands, she had tirelessly scanned through books on their history. She suddenly realized why both of the Houses sounded familiar. Out of the countless battles she read about, House Blackwood and Bracken were frequently are the forefront and more often than not the ones that started those conflicts. 

Daenys felt an odd urge to defend Benjicot, “You do not think I did my research before coming here, Lord Aeron?” 

“No, princess, that was not my intention,” He seemed to stumble over his words and his face flushed, “I just wish to protect you.” 

“I do not need your protection, my lord. I do believe having a dragon does that for me.” Daenys was thankful that the song was coming to a close. They separated and both bowed to one another like all the other partners on the floor. “Your baseless attempt at character assassination is just that, baseless. Thank you for the dance, Lord Aeron, but I think I will take my company elsewhere.”

Daenys gave him one last nod and walked away. She wanted to get away from Aeron quickly. She walked in the direction of Ben and his company of men, but an old lord stepped out in front of her just as she made it to him. The lord was old and greying, his wrinkled skin sagged against his stern face. Daenys never gagged at the sight of a person before, but she found herself almost doing so. 

“Princess Daenys, would you care for a dance?” His shrewd voice shattered her temporary relief. 

“Oh Lord–” She began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Lord Mooton,” Benjicot had spotted her approaching and saw the lord moving her way and quickly lept to action, “It is good to see you. I believe it was your great grandson's twentieth nameday celebration that we last saw on another. I have heard that your wife was looking for you.” Ben had his shoulders squared and towered over the old man's form. Daenys and Ben exchanged looks, resisting the urge to laugh in the lord's face at this awkward exchange. 

“Oh, yes, Lord Benjicot. Apologies princess, for I must go.” The man bowed and moved away, his old form moving slowly. 

“I owe you, Lord Benjicot, for saving me.” Daenys smiled at him. Her arms joined behind her back as she swayed side to side. 

“You need not thank me, your grace. Though, I would appreciate it if you would do me the favour of joining me on the floor?” Ben held out his hand. While he seemed confident, Daenys could tell there was still a shy nature being hidden - it was clear in his eyes. The hand that was outstretched shook so slightly it was hard to catch, but she did. Just a few minutes ago she wanted nothing more than to stop dancing, but in this case, she did not mind it. She had just found the right partner. 

Daenys took his hand in hers and the shaking ceased, “I shall.” Ben escorted her to the floor and they began to dance. She was even more nervous, as her lack of talent in dance may embarrass her in front of him. Ben did not seem to mind for he guided her gently before she could make any mistakes. 

“You should have seen the look on your face when Lord Mooton spoke to you. Pure befuddlement, your grace, possible disgust as well.” Ben quickly turned her to the pace of the music. 

“Do not jest of that, my lord. I felt like I would die.” Daenys retorted. 

“You would die? I think it would be Lord Mooton that goes first, considering his age.” 

Daenys let out a short laugh, “I do not know what I would have done if I had to suffer a dance with him.” She almost shivered at the thought of that lord's eyes scanning her body in such a predatory way. 

“Do not worry about it, your grace. All it would take is a stiff breeze to knock him over and it would no longer be your problem. Perhaps I could jump out of nowhere and startle him to death for you?” The dance had Ben pulling her closer with both of their hands connected. 

“I did not take you as a man quick to murder.” 

“Ah, but for you, dear princess, I would not hesitate.” Ben’s words sounded incredibly sincere and he made sure to be looking right at her when he said them. 

“You flatter me, my lord,” Daenys said, “I wanted to mention it earlier, but I must compliment your skills in fighting. Watching you train was engaging.” 

Ben spun them around and kept pace with those around them, “I shall hold those words with me for life, your grace.” 

“I also wished to ask if we could spar together.” Daenys raised her brow at him, hoping that he would like the same as well. 

“I can not even think about attacking you, princess. It would be improper.” 

Daenys knew he would not relent so easily, “I have been learning for a few years now, you need not worry about it.”

One of Ben’s hands reached down to her waist as they had to start walking to the right in a circle with others dancing. “Princess, the moment I even go in to swing at you, regardless of practicing, every lord in the castle would hunt me down.” 

“Then we shall make sure nobody sees. After the morning petitions on the morrow, we can meet up outside the gates and find a clearing somewhere.” Daenys tried to distract herself from the way his hand felt on her waist.  

“After you have been driven to frustration by all the lords? I should be worried you may take that anger out on me.” Ben spun her around again. The two of them released their grip on one another, stepping back a few paces and turning before finally coming back together again.

“With the skills I saw today, I do believe you can handle it,” Daenys said.

“I can handle that and more, princess,” Ben responded and his grip on her hand and waist tightened slightly. Daenys blushed heavily and hoped that it would not be too noticeable. She paused momentarily to figure out how to retort, but no words came to her. They settled into silence for a moment. The music died down and the dance came to a close. Daenys and Ben released their hold on each other and took a step back. 

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Benjicot. You need not worry about attending the petitions tomorrow and putting forth your name. I do not need to hear your case as I already favour your company.” Daenys tried to say what she wanted to say without making it too obvious or breaking any rules of propriety. It would be unseemly for a woman to actively pursue someone, but that would not stop her from voicing her opinion. 

“I favour your company as well, princess,” Ben responded, though he seemed slightly stunned. Daenys smiled at him and went back to the main dining table. 

Lord Tully had left, most likely off speaking to some guests, but Jace still sat at the table. He was nursing a mug of ale in his hand and sent her a large grin. 

“What have you done now, dear brother?” 

“Nothing, sister, however, I must admit I did not take you as one who liked to dance.” 

Daenys sat down in the seat beside him. She reached out for some of the ale and swallowed it down. “I don’t like dancing.” 

“Then why did you spend five dances with the same man?” Jace asked. He gave off a tone of innocence to his question, but she could sense the subtle tease.

She paused for a moment to load some food on a plate. It was five dances? She could have sworn it was only for a minute or two. Deciding not to voice that, she continued. “Why did you care to count?” 

“Because you are my sister and it is my job to watch out for you. Tell me, who is he?” 

Daenys was almost reluctant to answer but knew Jace would continue to pry until he got one. “Benjicot Blackwood.” 

“...So?” Jace placed his ale down and showed her his full attention. 

“Pardon?” 

“What do you think of him? You seem quite taken.” Jace nudged her shoulder gently. 

“We met earlier in the day. He seems nice and is easy to converse with. However, the manner of me being taken by him is none of your concern.” 

Jace leaned back in his seat and laughed, “Ah, okay. So it is not my concern that this whole time we have been talking, Lord Benjicot has not stopped looking at you.” 

Daenys froze. Jace held his gaze to her side, where other people were, and must have been looking at Ben. She knew he was there. Now that she was told, she could practically feel Ben’s gaze on the side of her face. She felt herself getting flushed again. That whole night, she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown with all of the lords looking at her. Their greedy gazes wished to have her solely to claim her blood for their children. Yet, Daenys could not help but crave the gaze of that dark-haired man. She shook her head gently and stood up abruptly. 

“I have become tired, Jace. I shall retire for the night.” Daenys did not wait for her brother's response before she scrambled to get out of the hall. Her feet carried her swiftly out of the large doors and down the stone hallway. She picked up her pace once away from the prying eyes of people. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress, the palms clammed up.

Upon reaching her guest chamber, Daenys threw the door open before shutting it quickly. Her chest rose up and down with each breath and the bodice felt tighter than it was just minutes ago. Her actions of the day quickly came flooding back at her. This was not supposed to happen. This was never part of the plan. 

Daenys somehow felt like she had failed her mother. She came to the Riverlands to find a strategic match, not find herself relishing in the company of some man. She was no believer. The princess knew from a young age that any sort of marriage was to be one of convenience, one arranged. She felt better having some bit of freedom in choice, but that choice was still dictated by what would be best for securing her mother’s throne if it were to come to war. 

Now, she found herself waiting with bated breath for her sparring session with Ben. As if counting the minutes would make the time go by faster. Logically, House Blackwood would be a great house to align with. They can handle more soldiers than the Tullys despite the Tullys being liege lords of the Riverlands. There is an extensive history of military triumph and a fair amount of wealth - not just monetarily - connected to Raventree Hall. It would be completely fine to connect their two houses, yet her budding feelings for Ben made her feel as though that decision was biased. 

Mother would know what to do. She always does. 

Daenys sat on the end of her bed, gazing out of the opened shutters of a window and staring into the night. The stars looked beautiful, but she missed the familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores of Dragonstone. Homesickness washed over her. She went to the desk in a corner of the room and retired some parchment. The inkwell was full and a quill lay next to it. If there was one person she could vent to and get advice, it would be her mother. 

 ───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The next day, Daenys found herself in the same spot she was in the previous day. In the great hall, with Lord Tully and Jace, watching as dozens of men spoke about themselves. How great their houses are, how great they are, and how extensive their coffers are. Except today felt different than previously. She was more impatient. All she focused on was her meeting with Ben later. The ability to speak to him more freely outside of the prying watch of others. 

To be caught would be scandalous, however, that thought made it more thrilling. 

Once Lord Tully concluded the gathering, Daenys quickly left her chair. She did not run, as it would be unladylike, but she moved as fast as was socially accepted. She went back to her room to dress in the proper attire and retrieve her sword. Once finished, Daenys opened her door and crashed into someone's chest. Jacaerys stood there, barely having been knocked by her slamming into him. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

Danys adjusted her clothing, “Out to train.” 

“Alone?” Jace raised his brow. Although he asked the question, it was as if he already knew the answer. 

“Must I even entertain such a question?” Daaenys sighed. 

“Don’t do anything Mother would not approve,” Jace told her. Daenys resisted the urge to laugh. While Rhaenyra did not speak to her sons about her youth, she spoke to Daenys about it. The stories of her sneaking away with Daemon and later her trysts with Sir Harwin were mentioned in hushed voices over tea times. Gossiping together was one of Daenys’ favourite pastimes. 

“Of course, Jace. I will be as pious as Mother.” Daenys answered before moving down the hallway. She was almost skipping with joy at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with Ben. 

Outside the gates of Riverrun, Ben was leaning against a tree as he waited for her. When she came in sight, she sent him a smile and a slight wave. He got off the tree and walked to her as well. Once close, they began moving in the direction of the dense forest. 

“Are you well rested, your grace? You left the feast early last night.” 

She paused before responding. “If I am entirely honest, I miss my home. I left to write a letter to my mother.” She did not feel it necessary to touch on the fact that the very nature of that letter was primarily centred around him. 

“I am sorry to hear that princess. The Riverlands can be overwhelming for those not born here.” Ben paused to step over a high fallen tree trunk. On the other side, he offered his hand to her. 

“I did not mean it as a slight. I’ve found myself to be quite fond of these lands, my lord. It's beautiful here, truly.” Daenys tried not to think about how warm his hand was in hers. How the callouses were strangely comforting despite their roughness. She gently stepped on and over the trunk before coming back down. Her arm went down to her side, but their hands were still joined. She cleared her throat gently and Ben dropped her hand, coming back from wherever his mind wandered. They continued on their way under the canopy of trees. 

“Can I ask you something?” Daenys questioned. 

“Anything, your grace.” 

“Must we exhaust our title in conversation with one another? It would be much better, and easier if I may add, if you just called me Daenys.” 

Ben remained silent for a moment, his vision focused on the ground below him to not trip over a root. “That would not be appropriate, princess.” 

“At the very least, we can do so when we are alone?” Daenys awaited his answer. 

“Then just call me Ben or Benji. Benjicot can be a mouthful.” 

Daenys giggled, “Sounds good, Ben.” 

They both exchanged quick looks and then focused their attention back on where they were going. After walking for a while, they hit a small clearing. The grass was low and there were no objects around that they could trip on. 

“How much do you know of sparring, Daenys?” Hearing her name come from his voice had her dazed for a moment. It sounded good. 

Deciding to deceive him for a moment, she responded. “Only a little bit. Some basic offensive and defensive moves.” 

“Then we shall have a round to see where you are at. We will start with the wooden swords.” 

With his words, they moved into starting positions. Ben lunged first and his strike was blocked. She moved around him, turning quickly and striking him. He too managed to block it, but before he could make another move, Daenys swung again and hit his bicep. It was quick and unexpected, revealing that she may know more than what she stated. He was shocked for a moment and caught off guard. Ben smiled. He was excited by her quick thinking ability. 

“Were you telling the truth?” 

“Not quite, but the look on your face was worth it.” Daenys adjusted her stance, with the wooden sword still in her grip. 

“Who taught you? Many men seem reluctant to teach women these sorts of things.” 

“I begged for years. I was told it was not ladylike and surely not something a potential husband would accept in a wife. But, many months after my mother married my stepfather, I decided to ask one more time. I was ten and three when I did. I marched right up to Daemon and asked him. It felt inevitable that he would deny my request, but he just laughed and told me to be ready on the morrow in the sparring yard. I joined my brothers in their training.”

Daenys remembered that day vividly. She was scared out of her wits. Until then, she never really bonded much with Daemon and was terrified by his reputation. She had clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to hide their shaking. Her small frame, made even smaller in his presence, stood tall. Years later, Daenys would be confident in saying that her relationship with her stepfather was solid. 

“As in Prince Daemon?” Ben was bewildered, “Like the Rogue Prince?” 

“Yes, him.” 

Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt you could learn anything from me then.” 

“Are you the one of those men who are ‘reluctant to teach women these sorts of things’?” Daenys used his words against him. 

“There are many things I could teach you.” Daenys pretended not to catch on to the other meaning of his words. She did not even know if that was intended by him. 

The two resumed their stances before going back to fighting. It was amazing how quickly time flew afterwards. Their bodies moved together in tandem. One moved forward, the other moved back. They bumped into one another multiple times. Daenys struggled to keep her beating heart under control when they would brush. It was occasionally hard to focus, as Ben looked increasingly better when he was in his element. She also pretended to not see the somewhat longing gaze he would send her way occasionally. 

During a moment when he was particularly distracted, she used it to her advantage. She swung forward, moving her wooden sword in a circle and disarming him. The move caused her body to be closer to him, and his reflexive move grabbed onto her wrist holding her sword and pulled her close in a grip hold. 

They were exhausted from the hours of movement. Daenys chest moved up and down at a rapid rate. The fog from their breaths intertwined in the air as their faces got close. Her free hand had somehow landed on his chest. There was no denying the lean muscle under his tunic and vest. 

“I thought you did not like it when people got easily distracted?” Daenys teased him. 

“Well, it is hard not to with you here,” Ben responded. His eyes stared into hers, an intensity hidden in them. 

Daenys could not for the sake of her life find a response. It was bold, his compliment. It would not be considered appropriate had they been anywhere else, but they were alone. The realization of that struck her. They were completely alone. Ben leaned in slightly but stopped. Due to their height difference, his nose brushed the top of her cheek. His breath was haggard. 

“Please tell me if I have misinterpreted any of your advances. Tell me and I swear I will leave you alone. I will go back to Raventree Hall and give you peace.” He voiced in a low whisper.

Ben began to pull away, but Daenys used her free hand resting on his chest to grip the fabric and hold him in place. 

“Don't go,” She began, “You have not misinterpreted me.”

“I will not do anything without your permission, my princess.” Daenys did not wish to correct him on addressing her by her title, for the use of the word ‘my’ before it lit something in her chest. He leaned back to where he previously was, his breath fanning her face. She nodded to him before leaning in and connecting their lips. 

It felt feverish, the unbridled heat that surged through her. She had the blood of the dragon, yes, but this was something else entirely. The wooden sword in her other hand, which was held at the wrist by his, dropped to the ground. He moved his hands, one going to her waist to pull her close and the other settling on the small of her back. His lips were chapped but felt soft nonetheless. His nose pressed into her cheek as he deepened the kiss. They both were unskilled in it, and they were slightly out of sink, but the passion was there. Daenys hands moved to his face, cupping it. Her thumbs brushed over his high cheekbones. The kiss gave her more warmth from the mild frigid weather around than any coat she could wear. There was a safety to it, an assurance of protection. 

For a brief moment in this foreign piece of land, Daenys felt at home. 

They pulled away, but only slightly so. Their noses still touched and she was grateful to feel any part of him. His hands squeezed gently, giving her some positive affirmation. 

“You are better at this than your swordsmanship.” Daenys joked. 

“You speak as if you have experience, Dany.” Her heart stopped for a moment at his nickname. 

She breathed in and out slowly, “You’re the first.” Ben nodded at her words, a breathless smile sweeping across his face. 

“For me as well.” They both were stuck in an embrace, eyes staring back at one another. 

“I…” Daenys paused to gain courage, “I would not mind if we could do that again.” She felt terribly shy by her request, and images of her younger self being rejected whenever she asked to learn how to fight flashed in her mind. Ben leaned forward and rested his forehead against her. An amused groan left his lips. 

“You will be the death of me, my princess.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys sat in her bedchamber with a parchment scroll gripped in her hands. It had been a few days since she sent her letter to her mother and she had finally received a response. The petitions only lasted two days, with the rest being spent mingling among the lords during the day and feasts at night. It was the early hours of the morning and she had just finished bathing. She lounged in her room in a robe and ate from a platter of meats and cheeses to break her fast. 

The letter she had sent her mother had been filled with her worries. How she had met many lords of the Riverlands and some that may be of help. Largely, the contents centred around her blooming companionship with Benjicot Blackwood. Daenys revealed her troubles about feeling that she would be failing if she found herself attached unnecessarily. She felt that her judgement had been compromised by her affinity to Benjicot’s company. She may be overlooking another house that may be better for them come the outbreak of war. 

Rhaenyra’s response was just what she needed. Despite her mother not physically being there, her words soothed Daenys. The heir assured her that House Blackwood would be a good fit, not just strategically but for her happiness as well. She kept reading a section of the response over and over. 

I was never fully happy with your plan. Sending my only daughter off to pick an arrangement that would surely make her miserable. I of all people can relate. Let yourself feel, ñuha prūmia. You are allowed happiness, so pursue it. Many women of the realm would give anything to be in your position. Do not waste it for me and my troubles. 

Daenys sighed. It was the confirmation she had been waiting for. Over the last few days, she had slipped away from Riverrun and joined Benjicot in the woods to spar. Though, more often than not, the sparing would be accompanied by fleeting touches and fevered kisses. Despite the dropping of formalities, he still treated her as his princess. Which, if Daenys was honest, was not a bad thing.

All the time spent with him, the voice in the back of her head had filled her with worries about failing her mother. Now, with confirmation that her choice was not wrong, Daenys felt the urge to rise from her chair and keep running until she found him. Jump in his arms perhaps. But that would not be appropriate and she cursed the realm for their stupid rules. 

Daenys got up and changed into her gown for the day. She had dismissed the maids earlier, wishing to have some semblance of peace. When she was situated in her attire and sat at her vanity to style her hair, a knock sounded on the door. 

“Come in!” Daenys called out gently as her fingers moved to meticulously form a braid. 

Jace walked in. His hand rested on the sword at his hip as he sauntered over to her vanity. “Good morrow, sister.” 

“Good morrow to you,” Daenys pinned up the finished braid and moved to work on another, “What brings you to my chambers this morning? Normally you would be out hunting with one of the lords.” 

“While that is true, I did just have to most interesting conversation while I broke fast,” Jace paused, “With Benjicot Blackwood.” 

Her fingers halted their movement and she looked at him through the large mirror positioned in front of her. Jace was smiling, but it was not the usual smirk as a warning of him teasing her. It looked genuine. She tilted her head in curiosity. 

“And, pray tell, what were you two meeting for?” Daenys feigned a casual attitude. She did not want to reveal her nerves.

“He invited me to break fast together. It would be rude of me to deny him.” Jace answered. 

Daenys pinned another braid up, “You did not answer my question, brother.” 

“I believe it is Ben’s right to share.” 

She finished her hair and turned in her seat to face her brother. She narrowed her eyes at him. Why did Jace address him so informally? Her hands rested on the seat and she resisted the urge to grip them tightly. Daenys was confused and she did not like it one bit. She relaxed her shoulders and maintained a pleasant resting face. 

“I did not know you two were so close.” 

Jace was picking up and inspecting the bottles of oils and serums on her table, displaying a sense of casualty. “Oh yes, one may say we could be brothers.” 

“Enough, Jacaerys. Tell me now.” 

Her brother set a glass vial down and backed away. He continued to smile while going to her door. “I will be out riding for the morning. Have a good day, sister.” Jace then opened the door and left Daenys to sit and mull over their conversation. 

“Bloody halfwit.” Daenys huffed. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The princess found herself strolling through the halls of Riverrun. There were no particular activities she planned for the day, so her mind was distracted. It was near an alcove that a hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She was pulled in with another hand covering her mouth. Her shout of surprise was muffled. Daenys found herself in a secluded area with her back against the stone. There was a tiny window giving the area a hint of morning glow. 

 Fear flooded her veins and she cursed herself for leaving any means of a weapon in her room. She brought her leg up to knee the assailant in the crouch. A shout of pain came from the figure, a voice so familiar. When the man crouched over the ease the pain, the streaks of light from the window illuminated his face.

“Ben! Oh, I am so sorry.” 

Daenys moved to hold his shoulders but he just held up his arms while still in visible pain, “No, Dany, this was my doing. Not the wisest decision to sneak up on you like this.” Benjicot was doing everything to show he was not in pain, but failing. He breathed in deeply. 

“Great strength and good form, my princess.” Ben tried to laugh it off, but his chest still heaved. 

“Dearest, what in the seven hells was that?” Daenys crossed her arms. 

“Oh, if I knew what it would take to be called such a sweet nickname by you, Dany, then I would have injured myself sooner.” Ben beamed at her. He managed to get over the pain quickly and stood straight. His arms moved to wrap around her waist and pull her from the wall towards his chest. 

Daenys arms rested on his shoulders. “What if I had my knife on me?” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have been stabbed,” Ben responded. 

“It is not funny. I could have seriously hurt you.” Daenys felt his thumbs making circles as he held her hips. 

Ben kissed the crown of her head, “I have no doubt you would have done serious damage, my princess.” 

They stood in their embrace in the dimly lit alcove. It seemed as though the only time they could spend together was during fleeting moments of isolation. Despite the worry of being caught, Daenys would not wish it to be any different. 

“My brother visited me this morning.” She began speaking, “Jace informed me of your shared meal.” 

Ben’s face dropped. Nervousness etched its way across it. “He told you what we spoke about?” 

“No,” Daenys answered. His unease cleared at her confirmation, “It was rather aggravating, what little information he gave. Is it something I should be worried about?” 

“Nothing to worry about, Dany.” One of his hands lifted to cup her face. He moved his thumb up and down her cheek.

“Can I be privy to it? Or is it some man thing?” Her hands, which were resting on his shoulders, moved lower to settle on his chest.

“No. I planned on making a show of this, but truly I cannot wait any further.” 

Daenys tilted her head, “And what can’t you wait for?” 

“Well, I went to ask your brother first, as I am a gentleman who does not wish to compromise you and-” Ben began, but was swiftly cut off by Daenys.

“You? A gentleman? You may not have compromised my maidenhood, but that thing you did with your tong-”

“My love, please, I cannot be distracted by such a memory.” Ben closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm down. “I wished to ask your brother for permission to court you.” 

Daenys waited with bated breath. “And my brother?” 

“He is a very agreeable man. He acquiesced but noted that ultimately, the decision remains with you.” Ben tightened his hold on her. 

She smiled widely, “I believe you already know my answer.” 

The two broke into laughter before quickly leaning in to kiss. They pushed against one another. Desperation, earnestness, and care poured out of them. Most of all, pure relief. Daenys shivered at the intimacy of his hold on her. One of Ben’s hands cradled the back of her head as he pushed them back to the wall, cushioning her from the jagged stone. A groan slipped from his mouth as Daenys opened hers. The kiss was possessive, and his grip tightened. The hold on her waist warmed, and his fingers threaded through her hair. 

“You are so beautiful.” Ben voiced between kisses before moving back to devour her again. His lips trailed from her mouth, across her cheek and to her neck. He stopped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Daenys sighed at the contact, heat flaming through her body. 

“Ben, someone may come.” 

“Damn them. I do not care.” He seemed intent on kissing her, with his mouth moving to her collarbone. 

“I would rather not have my honour questioned, my love.” 

He paused and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes held an intensity she had scarcely seen from him before, “Say the word and any man who questions you will be dead.” 

“As much as your words are comforting, I could not put you in such a position,” Daenys gave him a chaste kiss, “I am just happy my brother gave his approval.” 

“If you were only there. He did try his best to be intimidating.” Ben said. 

“Jace was never good at threatening people. Were you scared?” She joked. 

“I feigned some bit of fear,” He began, “I find men to be more pliable when they feel better about themselves.” Ben stood proud of himself. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his mouth to lay small kisses on her knuckles. 

“So you manipulated my bother?” 

“I would not call it that. Moreso gentle encouragement to achieve the answer I so desired.” Ben skirted her question and began to rock them gently side to side, “But even if he did manage to scare me, no amount of fear would stop me.”

Daenys pulled back from his embrace, “No amount of fear would stop you?” 

Ben paused his movements and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t like that look on your face, my dear. You’re up to something.” 

“Well, since you wish to court me, there is one such condition from me.” Daenys tried to ease his piqued curiosity. Ben awaited her explanation. “Meet Suneater.” 

His face fell immediately. His eyes darkened and the muscles in his body tightened. Daenys saw his reaction and worked to soothe him by grabbing his hands and rubbing them. 

His voice came out strained, “You want me to meet your dragon?” 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys giggled as she led Ben through the muddy pathway outside of Riverrun. Her dragon and Vermax were perched outside the castle, as it was not a large enough estate to hold the both of them. She held his hand clasped in hers as the two made their way to the sleeping dragon. They came across a clearing that was surrounded by a low stone wall. Jace had taken Vermax for a flight, so Suneater was alone. She lay curled and sleeping peacefully. Her strong breath came out of her nose. 

Suneater had dark grey scales. However, upon closer inspection, there were subtle gold flakes throughout her body, intensifying at the base of the scales before being covered by the black of a next one layered above. Daenys had never known a bond such as the one she held with her dragon. Her closeness to her family was strong- especially Jace since they were twins. But her dragon was entirely something else. 

Now that Benjicot wished to be with her, he must know all of her. Suneater was the other part of her soul. Despite hatching in her cradle and being of the same age, Daenys view her as a daughter. 

Daenys let go of Ben’s hand and walked to her dragon, “Sȳz ñāqes, Suneater.” Good morrow. Suneater’s eyes blinked open and her head lifted to see her rider approaching. Ben had stopped walking and stood by the entrance, unsure of whether or not he should get closer. “Hilago, sagon sȳz. Nyke hae bisa vala.” Please, be good. I like this man.

She reached out to scratch Suneater’s chin. The dragon let out a near purring sound at the contact and closed her eyes. Daenys continued her movements and turned to Ben. 

“Come here. She won’t hurt you.” Upon seeing Ben still standing, Daenys continued. “I swear she will not do anything. You have my word.” 

After that, Ben moved towards her. His steps were slow and calculated as he wadded through the low grass. Once he was about a metre near her, Suneater’s eyes snapped open to stare him down. A puff of air left her nostrils and Ben seized his movements to a halt. 

“Gīda. Rȳbagon.” Calm. Listen. Daenys assured her. Suneater calmed down but kept her eyes on Ben. He was an unknown man who stood too close to her rider. Daenys used her other hand to grab Ben and pull him closer. Once he was beside her, she spoke up, “You can touch her.” 

Ben swerved his head and gave her a look muddled with alarm and uncertainty. He breathed in and out slowly to stay calm next to such an intimidating beast. 

“Touch her?” His voice dripped with fear. 

“Calm down, Ben, its not like I am asking you to fly with me.” He seemed to ease at her words, “Not yet, at least.” 

Ben sputtered but went completely silent when Daenys grabbed his hand and placed it on the dragon's side. Her hand, in its small size, barely covered his. Ben felt the scales and the subtle breathing of the beast. His fear swept away and was replaced with awe. As a boy, he had heard of many older men around him who had seen dragons, but never himself had he ever seen one. The stories in his books growing up were filled with him, the history books even more so when covering events after the Conquest. In all his dreams, never did he think he would be standing so close to one and touching it. 

“See, it is not so bad.” Daenys laughed gently. She grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it gently. 

“Yes. It is not so bad.” Ben was still breathless. 

He removed his hand after a while and, with a surge of confidence, leaned down to kiss Daenys. It was a calm one, not as heated and passionate as the others. His strong arms pulled her against his chest. Daenys melted in his hold and kissed him back. She did not believe she could ever tire from kissing him. Her heart swelled. 

For the first time in many years, Daenys prioritized her own happiness. 

Ben pulled back and looked her in the eyes, “You are a wonder.” Their foreheads connected. The two closed their eyes and relished the sounds of nature around them. The steady breeze brushed the branches of trees and the crows spoke as they flew around. The rumbling of breath from Suneater produced a steady beat to focus on. 

The lovers stood in that field, each far from their homes - one more so than the other - and felt nothing but a sense of belonging. 

A budding love became solidified in their bond that day. Each mirrored the other. Their gentle demeanours were undercut by their cunning in the ways of fighting. Both a ticking bomb of violence, who would gladly follow the other into any battle. 

_______________

✧.* endnote: apologies for any typos or terrible grammar. i did come up with a couple more ideas centred around these two, so if it is wanted i could write (much shorter) pieces about these two. thank you all for the support that has been given. i appreciate it more than you know <3

who give a shit abt the targaryens. Watching flop bracken call a 12 year old blackwood a dumb cunt and then said 12 year old blackwood stab him to death in the throne room…..best show on television baby

I think Benjicot Blackwood might just drag me out of my hole (writers block) because there is just something about him… I literally cannot wait for tonights episode ((hopefully it is actually Ben because word on the street says otherwise))

I am also working on requests and a couple of other works, they just need to be proofread, so sorry for the long wait life has been extremely busy :3 💕

-Benjicot Blackwood x smallfolk!reader

{The Realm seems to have spiralled into disarray, Benjicot makes promises of protecting you}

Short and sweet because I can’t help myself, Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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The days seem much longer since the crowning of Aegon Targaryen, the Realm quickly swearing their fealty to whatever side could offer up the best deal or come across as the most threatening. Men were quick to take up swords, training all through the day and deep into the night.

Benjicot was not exempt from this, immediately following suit. Although it came naturally to him, a sword in his hand gave him a boost of confidence like you’ve never seen before and suddenly he was ready to take off into battle with an eagerness that would put anyone on edge.

It took up most of his time, unfortunately. The growing space between the pair of you was noticeable, you wouldn’t hold it against him, you couldn’t. Especially not when he visits you at the end of every day with a boyish grin and messy hair.

“Missed you today.” He breaks the silence, standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching you potter around the small kitchen.

Several moments pass and you still don’t even give him a glance, focused rather stubbornly on the task of scrubbing down the already pristine countertops. He makes a popping noise with his lips repeatedly, trying to gauge a reaction or at the very least your gaze.

With a groan he steps over to the dress you have been working tirelessly on, you have a talent for weaving threads and fabrics with your very hands, crafting the most beautiful dresses for the pretty ladies of the Vale for a rather pretty sum.

“Do not touch that with your filthy hands unless you wish to spend coin on new lace.” You tell him, turning around to meet his grin.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your lips from curling into a traitorous smile, the sight of him all dirtied and bloodied looked so out of place in the backdrop of pastel colours and the softest fabrics.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, allowing you to tug him over to the wash basin with a chuckle that passes through his chapped lips.

His expression softens as he watches the way your gentle hands begin to wash the mud and blood from his own, so much more delicate than his, not sullied by violence and battle, no, they only knew needlework and he vows to keep it that way.

“I said I missed you today.” He repeats his earlier statement, tilting his head slightly towards yours to meet your eyes.

“I suppose I should be grateful then, Lord Blackwood.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, despite the fact that there was no malice behind them, but still, that doesn't stop the regret that immediately swells up inside your chest at the deflated look he gives you.

“I sense I’ve done something wrong, have I?…” he treads carefully, his eyes searching your expression as your hands carefully work to free them of muck.

You shake your head, drying off his hands as you stare down at them with a troubled look. “No… forgive me I have been rather on edge as of late.”

He hums in understanding at your words, glancing around the room, trying to think about the right thing to say, before finally looking back down at you. In truth, he has never been good at this, words, but for you, he’ll try.

“You got me and I’m better than anyone in battle, you’ve seen it yourself, I’ll protect you.” He states with so much confidence in his tone you can’t help but chuckle, it was true he became a wildly different person on the battlefield, a man possessed by the thrill.

You avert your eyes to the sword that stands, leaning up against the wall with your brows pinched together in worry. Benjicot’s hands immediately cup either side of your face with care, the feeling of his calloused hands keeps your mind from drifting off to every worst possible scenario.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispers, tipping your head up ever so gently. “If anything happens you’ll have refuge at Raventree.” He promises, his tone carrying a seriousness that he does not always have.

“You sound so sure they’ll just take me in…” You whisper, unsure if you’d be welcomed at all.

“I will demand it, and so will my Aunt, she loves you especially after you made her that riding jacket.” His words warm your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips at the memory of Alysanne, the gratefulness of her tone and the excitement in her eyes.

A warm smile spreads across your lips, his rough hands still cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing across Westeros, the pads of his thumbs caressing the space under your eye.

“Now, no more worrying, hmm?” He announces, pressing a kiss against your forehead with a smirk as you agree with a small whispered ‘Alright’

The pair of you soon find comfort in the warmth of your bed, listening to him ramble on vividly about his day, his hands moving all over the place to get his point across and for the time being everything seems to be peaceful.

-Benjicot Blackwood x Arryn!Reader

{Benjicot doesn’t mind getting his hands bloodied if it means protecting your honour}

word count- 1.7k

!CW!//vulgar language, descriptions of blood// Enjoy my lovelies💕

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The Vale was all harsh winds and rain since the sun had first begun to rise above the horizon, a thick layer of fog rolls through the high mountains and over the hills creating a rather eerie atmosphere around the courtyard of Raventree hall.

You sit on the balcony that overlooks the training grounds with your sister, Jeyne Arryn, protected from the light rain by the stoney overhang. You both had been asked to unite your houses for a few days in hopes of getting the men more accustomed to the sword and shield a little faster.

It had been going great in all honesty, they seemed to have lifted each other spirits despite the pressure of the looming war.

“Is your friend down there?” Jeyne smirks, looking over at you with a playful gleam in her eyes.

She takes joy in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly, how you move away from the edge to slouch back into your chair. “No, not yet.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest in a harrumph.

You roll your eyes at Jeyne and the sound of her chuckles, smiling into her cup whilst she continues to tease you. Her jabs are soon cut off by the sound of men cheering and metal clanging together in excitement.

You immediately lean back over the stone railing of the balcony, looking down at the group of men searching for…

Benjicot. He had made quite a name for himself over the past few moons, his way with a sword was… wild to put it more kindly. He was a madman on the battlefield, charging in with absolutely no fear, the complete opposite of the shy boy you grew up with.

For a small second your gazes meet. He waves softly, sending you a sweet smile which you happily return before he’s dragged away to the training yard by his friends.

The sound of your sister’s giggling snaps you out of the moment, your face twisting into a small frown. “Do not start.” You huff, slouching back into the chair with a pout.

Your sister makes small conversation, keeping it light as you watch over the training. Benjicot found it hard to stay focused, his mind drifting over to the fact that you were watching him with your pretty eyes.

The pair of you shared plenty of fleeting moments together, lingering touches and sweet whispered words. You danced along the line of friends and something more but neither of you took the leap, too scared of ruining the deep friendship you have.

Benjicot sits on a tree stump, cleaning his sword with a rag as his eyes glance between the balcony where you sit and the men around the training yard. He was miles away, thinking about how he could see you tonight… perhaps a walk through the garden… or maybe sneaking you into the kitchens.

His mind soon gets away from him, all of his thoughts consumed by you… but then again when are they not?

The sound of two rowdy men snaps him out of his trance, his expression immediately darkening with his brows pinched together tightly. They sound drunk as they speak horrid nonsense about women, barely able to hold their swords let alone stand on two feet.

“I’d fuck her… bet her cunt is tight too, ey?” The taller one says, harshly nudging the other man's shoulder almost sending him tumbling to the floor.

Benjicots fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles going white with anger. He hopes for their sake that they’re not talking about you. “Mhm… bet shes a squealer.” The other man agrees, the pair of them chuckling.

The sound goes right through Ben, his blood running cold as he watches them cast their predatory gaze over to you as you lean curiously over the edge of the balcony.

The sword that he was cleaning drops to the floor with a dull thud. He acts way before he thinks, his body moving without hesitation and before he knows it he’s coiling back his arm, colliding his tight fist down against one of the taller drunkards face as the other scurries off.

A crimson colour stains his knuckles, the blood warm and wet in between his fingers. The adrenaline overshadows the pain that shoots down his arm, reducing it to a mere tingle that he’ll surely feel later on. He watches the fool drop to the damp, cold ground, writhing in pain whilst clutching his nose as it weeps a thick red.

Benjicot opens and closes his hand, trying to lessen the ache. “Perhaps next time you’ll hold your tongue.” He sneers before storming off with a mean glare that makes everyone step out of his way.

You had watched the whole scene unfold, worry immediately settling in the pit of your stomach, etching across your face. Your sister tells you to ‘stay put’ however her words fall upon deaf ears as you rush back inside, running down the halls and the twists and turns of the castle.

The Maesters chambers are where you find Benjicot. His aunt walks out of the room with a displeased expression, however, the candlelight gives away the amusement that flickers through her dark eyes.

She greets you with a warm smile, nodding her head. You return the action before slipping into the room, your gaze immediately finding his as he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Hey…” his words break through the silence, the crackle of the hearth taking over once more as you wordlessly walk deeper into the room.

His hand was submerged in a dark oak basin, the water inside had long turned murky with a minty almost medicinal aroma. You sit down on the chair adjacent to his own, brows pinched together in concern.

“Where’s the Maester?” You ask, looking at him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Gone to get some sort of balm… I don’t need it.” His words make you tut, shaking your head as you watch him pull his hand out of the water. He seethes a little in pain, teeth clenched.

You reach over for a cloth, drying off his hand but whilst being careful to not cause him any more discomfort, he was already shifting and squirming in his chair.

“What even happened?” You sigh, holding his injured hand against your lap. Your thumb ever so gently caresses his palm in such a way that it makes his mind spin and his heart skip a beat.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “They— they were making… distasteful… comments towards you. I won’t repeat them.” He tells you, shaking his head firmly.

“How silly… look at your hands over some words.” You scold lightly, although there was no real bite to your soft tone. You couldn’t be, in fact, the thought of him defending you like this sends a pleasant warmth blooming through your chest. Although you wouldn’t tell him that, for his own sake.

“I’m fine, I have no regrets. They deserved it.” He states, watching the way you bring his knuckles into the candlelight to assess the damage.

They were red raw, the skin split open at the tips of each knuckle save for his thumb. A purplish colour tints the delicate skin, the shade darker around the cuts then fading off into a more dull colour. It certainly was not fine.

“You should be more careful.” Your words are hushed, whispered into the air, so soft that if he weren’t sitting so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear you. His eyes meet your own once more, admiring the way the candles cast an orangey light across your pretty features.

His fingers itch to reach out and tuck a loose curl behind your ear, to graze the back of his fingers along to warm cheek. But he refrains, even the mere thought has his stomach swarming with nervous butterflies.

You take another thin sheet of cloth, edges ragged with loose threads and the fabric an off-white colour. He looks at you with a quizzical expression, watching you dip one end of the cloth into the basin.

Before he can ask any questions you’re already leaning closer to him, knees bumping together. Your hand reaches out to ever so gently cup his jaw, fingers curling against his cheek to hold his head still whilst you wipe away a small mud stain just under his eye.

“Thank you…” he says, breath hitching in his throat at the way your thumb brushes along his warm cheek.

“No, I should be thanking you, really.” Your words make him smile, his eyes softening. “Thank you,” You add, your eyes searching his own.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t, not with you so close to him. He fears that he might have ruined the moment when silence wraps around the room. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself or if he should move the hand that rests upon your lap.

He lets out a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to will the words from his lips but none come and it only serves to cause his mind to spiral, cursing himself and his inability to speak.

The feeling of your lips against his cheek brings him back, his worries and fears ebbing away until the only thing that was on his mind is your flowery perfume and the softness of the kiss. He finally lets out a breath. His hand rests against your knee as you pull back, a pang of disappointment hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to thank me… I’d never let anyone slander your name, but either way, you are welcome.” He finally manages to speak, the words tumbling out of his lips rather ungracefully.

You entwine your fingers with his own, minding his roughened knuckles, holding his hand ever so gently with your own. His thumb caressing the inside of your wrist, the calluses feel strangely nice.

“Perhaps afterwards we could walk through the gardens?” The suggestion makes his heart skip a beat, the image was already vivid in his mind, walking arm in arm with you.

“Of course, if it would please you, my lady.” He replies, hoping the words sound more graceful than before.

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. Your warm hands still in his own, the kiss lingering on his cheek, your knees pressing against either side of his own and your honeyed gaze still upon him… he realises he’s completely doomed, you hold his heart in the palm of his hand.

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WHAT THEY DON’T KNOW — house of the dragon

Davos Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

[ forbidden love, sex content, oral sex, semi-outdoor sex ]

Description: The long-going feud between house’s Blackwood and Bracken won’t stop her from loving the man her heart desires, even if he is on the other side of the dispute.

Authors note: he might not be benjicot Blackwood but he’s still my man. And yes, I’m doing this instead of writing chapter 4 of serendipity…

The young lady Bracken sighed as her brothers messed around the field, a little too close to the barrier stones that separated the lands of house Blackwood and Bracken.

“Can you even get that thing up?” One of the brothers laughed. Aeron pulled the hilt of his sword from his belt, “Well enough for killing Blackwood’s” he smirked.

She only rolled her eyes, weaving daisies together to make a crown, bored of her brothers yet not enough to stay inside with her family back home.

She missed her lover. Though, she could never say it out loud, for she would be cast aside by her own family, she was in love with a Blackwood, and he loved her too.

“Bracken!” A familiar voice shouted. All of the yellow clothed siblings looked towards the men, a fluttering feeling filling her belly as she saw her lover stepping towards them.

“Put the boundary stones back.” Davos demanded.

“We didn’t move them.” Aeron said as he moved towards the Blackwoods. Davos scoffed, “Oh, did they move themselves then?”

“Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass.” He continued.

Even when angry, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She constantly had to bite back a smile whenever she was around her family when she thought about him or saw him.

“The assize of Riverrun-“ Aeron began, “fuck the assize, and fuck you.” Davos smugly said, annoyed at the Bracken man.

“This is our land.”

“It’s Bracken land.”

The Lady Bracken finally stood from her rock, smoothing out the sides of her dress, flower crown in hand. She slowly stepped towards her brother, Aeron.

He turned away from the Blackwood boy, walking away from the situation. The Bracken girl’s eyes never left her lovers and his gaze finally met hers, almost softening instantly.

“Babe-killer.” Aeron mumbled under his breath as he passed his sister.

“What did you say?” His head whipped towards the Bracken boy. Aeron sucked in a breath, stepping back in front of his sister in a way of protecting her.

“Your false queen, Rhaenyra, is a kinslayer.” She gulped at her brother’s words. She knew what her lover would think of this, she worried of his words that would come later that night when they saw each other.

He knew she never agreed with her family, yet he always had something to say.

“Your uncle declared for Aegon, did he?” Davos bit his tongue.

“Well then, let me tell you.” He said as he stepped towards the Bracken’s. “Aegon Targaryen is no true king…just as you are not true knight.” He got into the boys face.

“You’re both craven, little cunts!” He exclaimed as he pushed the man back. She gasped a quickly stepped out of the way, Aeron pulled out his sword, pointing it at the man before him.

“Aeron!” She shouted.

Davos began laughing, stepping towards the blade, “you wouldn’t dare!”

She quickly broke up the men, “stop this at once! It is merely stones, they can be put back!” She tried to explain.

“Sister-!”

“We will put them back.” She looked between the boys before settling her eyes on her secret lover. “They will be put back, I promise you.”

His gaze lightened, “they better be.” He said as he pulled away, commanding his brothers to follow him back home.

“Why would you do that?” Aeron asked.

“Would you rather die over stones?” She scoffed.

“Fuck-“ she gasped as her lover flicked his tongue over her swollen bud, one hand gripping his dark locks under her skirts and another gripping the wooden barrel beneath her.

The torch light of the empty stable, much far away from the homes of both lovers, shined against her pale skin. Her dress falling down her shoulders.

His tongue entered her dripping entrance. The moans that escaped her were loud and needy as she through her head back in pleasure.

“Davos, please- my love!” Her hips began grinding onto his face, chasing the pleasure he brought her.

His hands gripped onto the soft flesh of her thighs, eating her cunt as if it would be the last meal he would ever have.

The feeling of her peak blinded her, forcing her to see the light. Her noises were louder than ever before as he brought her to her high.

Her heart beat rapidly as she came down to earth, giggling at the bubbly feeling she felt expanding through her.

Her lover stood from her skirts, licking his lips of her essences. His smile was intoxicating, his hands found their way to her waist as he pulled her into him, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss as she jumped down with shaky legs to the ground.

“I love you-“ he mumbled into her mouth.

She pulled away from his lips with a smile on her face, “and I love you.” She pressed her forehead to his.

His hungry lips found hers again in a sensual kiss. He began yanking the dress down her shoulders and she reached to unlace the bodice.

The dress became undone and fell off her body, leaving her in a shift. The Bracken girl unpinned his cloak from his shoulders and slid it off, laying to on the ground below them.

She shrugged his undershirt off of his torso, her fingers finding their way to his breeches, unlacing the pants as they knelt down onto the cloak.

He threw off his breeches as she pulled her shift off of herself, revealing their bare bodies to each other.

He took her bare beauty in for a brief moment, truly not understanding how she could be apart of such a horrible family, yet be so perfect.

“My beautiful girl.” He smiled as he quickly tucked his head into her neck, bringing them to lay onto the cloak. She laughed at the feeling of his lips on her skin like a feather tickling her.

He leaned over her body, pressing a sweet kiss onto her smiling lips. His hands shifted her thighs up to rest on his hips.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

She nodded, taking his cheeks into her hands and gently pressing their heads together. Intimate moments like this, she cherished.

She gasped as his cock pushed against her entrance before sliding in gently. He bit his tongue at how tight she was, no matter how many times they did this, she was still so tight.

He began pumping into her tight, sopping cunt. His head fell into her neck with a groan, his hips not stopping their growing pace.

Her moans were music to his ears, conformation he was doing well.

“My love-“ she whimpered into his ear, planting wet kisses onto his neck. Her walls tightened around his cock as he continuously hit the deepest and most pleasurable part of her core.

Her back arched into him, her tits pressed themselves against his chest. “Davos-“ she gasped.

“Go on, my sweet- cum for me..” he groaned. Her cunt spasmed around his length, her mouth fell agape at the feelings of her peak taking over her for the second time that night.

His thrusts grew quick and erratic, he was close as well. “Fuck-“ he groaned, gripping onto her thigh with one hand and holding himself up onto the hay above her.

He quickly pulled out of her cunt, his hand flying down to his cock, pumping himself onto her stomach. His cum painted her belly in white streaks.

He fell down to her side and laid their panting next to his lover.

She pulled her handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and wiped herself and her belly from their spend.

The Bracken girl snuggled her body into her lovers side, head resting on his chest. Her fingers danced on his chest, drawing random shapes onto the warm skin. He pulled her in close with his arm, his own fingers caressing the skin of her bicep.

“So, your uncle really declared for aegon?” He broke the comforting silence.

She sighed, “must we really talk about this now, right after you fucked me so good?” She raised her head from his chest with a smile.

“Only asking, my love. Your brother is a foul prick, calling the rightful heir a kin-slayer when-“ he started before she forced her finger onto his lips to silence his rambling.

“Please, shut up about our families.”

He took her hips into his grasp and turned them over to where he was on top and she was below him, “you’re lucky I love you.” He smiled as she giggled at his words.

He sealed his confession with a kiss, the lovers worried of no one, miles away from their homes and under the roof of an abandoned stable, in the comfort of the night sky.

DELICATE TOUCHES — house of the dragon

Davos/Benjicot Blackwood x betrothed!reader

[ innuendo ]

Description: After Davos gets himself into a fight with another, his betrothed helps him clean up his cuts and bruises. Her soft touches only made him fall harder for his beautiful wife-to-be.

Authors note: Thank you so much for 450 followers! I appreciate all of the kind comments I’ve been receiving and I thank you all for the support!

Heavy steps rung through the walls of raventree hall as Davos made his way to his betrothed’s apartments. His nose bled red as well as his lip, A red bruise forming under his eye.

He gripped the hilt of his blade as his stomps grew louder to the ears of his wife-to-be. Her ears peaked up at the sounds of her door swinging open.

Her head whipped from her writing desk to the entrance of her chamber. To her surprise, her betrothed stood bloody at her doorway.

“Davos? Whatever happened?” She rushed over to him, taking his bruised face into her hands.

He winced at her palm connecting with his bruised cheek. She quickly moved her hand to rest on his chest, her eyes roamed over her body as she checked his bruises and cuts.

“Come, my love.” She led him to her vanity, forcing him to sit down on the dark red stool. She stood in between his legs, her bum facing his front as she searched through the drawers for a cloth.

His hands found their way to her behind, giving it a rough squeeze before she swatted his grabby hands away.

He smiled at her response. He was so in love with the woman in front of him, his sweet betrothed. The two had been promised since they were only children and grew to love each other.

Their wedding was only a few moons away and they couldn’t wait much longer. They longed for each other, in more ways than one.

“Ah ha!” She exclaimed and held up a white cloth. She poured water onto the rag from the pitcher on a nearby table, making her way back to Davos.

She tilted his head up with the tips of her fingers, lightly tapping the cloth onto some cuts on his lip. “Do I want to know what happened?” She asked.

He hands rested on her hip as he shook his head at the woman. His gaze fixed onto her features as he took the beautiful woman’s radiance in. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Everyday, dearest.” She giggled.

“Perhaps I should tell you more often, eh?” He said with a smirk.

Her gentle touches made his skin litter with goosebumps and butterflies dance in his stomach.

She wiped the blood from under his nose and dabbed the cut on his lip. He hissed slightly at the pain. “I’m sorry,” she said.

She placed a delicate kiss on his lips, “a kiss to make it feel better.” She smiled. He breathed out a laugh, “it must be healed already!”

His betrothed took a seat on his thigh, resting her head on his shoulder as she gazed up at him. “You must not provoke people, I hate seeing you like this.” She said softly, her fingers dancing across his cheekbone.

“He shouldn’t have said what he said.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“What did this man say?” She asked. His eyes drew to the wall in front of his, avoiding her sweet stare.

“He said that- if he were me- he would’ve already…fucked you bloody.” He whispered.

Her heart sunk. Davos was nothing but sweet with her, she was glad he wanted to wait until they were wed. He was the most respectful and kind man she had ever met.

He was incredibly protective over her, something she loved about him. “Do not listen to these cruel and disgusting men. I only belong to you. And- I love how soft you are with me.”

His eyes softened and gaze fixed back onto her. A smile was painted onto her face, and she quickly pressed a rough kiss onto his lips, making him wince in pain.

“I’m sorry! I forgot- heavens me..” she cried.

He laughed, “forget about it.” And his lips found their way back to hers, where they belonged.

SNEAKING AROUND W/ DAVOS — davos “benjicot” blackwood x betrothed!reader

[ sex content, oral sex, handjob, pre-marital sexual relations, cum-eating ]

The woman’s back arched off of the warm sheets of her betroth’s bed as he devoured her cunt like he was a starved man.

She couldn’t take it, her hips acted as if they had a mind of their own, humping the face of her betrothed as his tongue licked at her entrance and his pretty button nose caught on her throbbing bud.

His big hands gripped onto her shaking thigh. His face was buried in between her perfect legs, he could die here and be happy.

His lips wrapped around her swollen bud, sucking and licking at the ball of nerves and bringing her terribly close to her much needed peak.

Her fingers gripped tightly onto his shaggy locks as her muscles began to tighten. The moans and whimpers just fell out of her, she couldn’t do anything to stop them, nor did she want to.

“Fuck- my love-!” She came to her release with a gasp.

Davos drank up her release, sending her into a whimpering mess of overstimulation. “no more..” she pushed his head away from her dripping core.

He sat up with a smirk painted on his face, licking his lips of her arousal.

“I need you…davos..” she said as she placed a hand on his throbbing cock. His breeches were the only thing on his body, her fingers pulled the strings and unlaced them slowly.

“I will not dishonor you in further ways than I already have.” He laid his forehead against her own. They only had mere weeks till their wedding, why wait?

“But I want you too-“

“No, I will not.” He said sternly.

She grabbed his hard cock from inside of his unlaced breeches, “then let me please you as well.” She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, collecting the arousal from the tip of his cock and using it to help her stroke his length.

His head fell onto her shoulder in pleasure. He watched as the woman he loved so much stroked him so well, her hand paying much attention to the tip.

“Feel good, my sweet?” She asked, his hips rutting up into her fist. He grunted out a yes. Only little moans and grunts came from the man, yet he was in immense pleasure.

His cock throbbed in her hand. “Fuck-“ he gasped. Her pace quickened, his peak was near.

She smashed her lips onto his, forcing her tongue into his mouth. It all began to be too much for him. The feeling of it all took over his body, he released all over her hand and her lower stomach, painting them a milky white.

She giggled into his mouth, playful biting his lip before breaking the kiss. “You are something else, woman.” He mumbled with a smile. They both sat up, he began to clean her up with a cloth.

She licked his spend from her fingers as she stared up at him with an innocent gaze, “you little minx-“ he pushed her back onto the bed, ready to ravish her once more.

They got him 😔 they got Pookie 😫 I’m gonna kms

We were robbed

Don't be shy guys drop those benjicot blackwood fanfics