Tormund Giants Bane
Shieldhall
Tormund sighed happily, feeling the warmth of the sour goat's milk drink as it burned down his throat. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze sweeping over the shield hall, a hall filled with flickering torchlight and the murmur of voices. This feeling of hope for the future had long been gone, yet tonight it seemed to burn bright in most hearts. His eyes settled on the high table, where his friend sat beside his young bride, her hair as black as a raven's wings.
'Who could have thought that the little crow who had walked into Mance's tent almost two years ago would not only save the Free Folk but rise to be their King?
King Crow. King Flame Walker. Dragon King. Wolf King. The names swirled like wind-driven snow, whispered in awe and fear. Jon Snow, Orys, Jon Stark, whatever name he claimed, he was the man who would lead them through the Long Night.' He mused.
Tormund exhaled, shaking his head before taking another swig from his drinking horn. "Ah, choppy man," he murmured absently as he glanced to his side.
Davos Seaworth arched a brow, his weathered face creased in confusion. "Excuse me?"
Tormund gestured loosely toward Davos's missing fingers. "Bah, because of your fingers. Lost in fight or frostbite? We got many of those after that cunt Stannis chopped our army to bits." His voice softened slightly, and he added, with a sad smile, "Good fok died that day."
Davos studied his cup before answering. "No, Stannis hacked them off after I saved him, with my onions." He lifted his hand slightly, displaying the missing fingers as if they still pained him. "Said a good deed doesn't wash out the bad."
Tormund snorted, taking another drink. "Pff, the man was a cunt. You saved him. And what good did it do? The man burned some of my people, and I thought he burned my King." His gaze flickered toward Jon at the high table. "Hells, technically, it happened twice, now that King Crow leads us. Yet that man, your Stannis, burned his own blood." His voice darkened. "What worse crime can there be?"
Davos followed his gaze toward the high table, where Queen Shireen sat beside Jon, her cheeks flushed with laughter at something her husband had whispered to her. Davos exhaled slowly. "Fanatics are never good. The man became what he fought against. Now he has to live with it. All because of the Red Woman, Melisandre. But we make our own choices, and Stannis made his when he aligned with her. We all paid for it." His fingers tightened around his cup before he drained it dry.
Tormund leaned forward, pouring generously from his drinking skin into Davos's empty cup. "Here. Best drink you'll ever have."
Davos eyed the thick, cloudy liquid warily before he drank heavily. The moment as it seemed, the drink hit the man's throat. He coughed roughly, his eyes watering. "Gods be good, that's strong."
Tormund roared with laughter, clapping Davos on the back hard enough to nearly knock the smaller man forward. "Nothing better!"
Davos wiped his mouth and shook his head. "So," he rasped, still clearing his throat, "What do you know of this Jon Stark? I haven't learned much about him, only that he was known as Jon Snow, the bastard of Eddard Stark. That my Queen adores him. That he tamed a dragon. And that he was dead once and walked out of a flaming pyre." He shot a glance back at the high table, watching Jon and Shireen exchange quiet words.
Tormund leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "Jon is brave, strong, determined. Smart. Loyal to his friends. He could've let us all die beyond the Wall. No one would've blamed him for it. Yet he pushed past the past and led the Free Folk through. I'd be dead if it weren't for him." He took another drink and smirked. "And don't you worry about Shireen. If anyone is protective of her, it's him. That little crow will tear apart anyone who tries to hurt her."
Davos exhaled slowly, something like relief settling in his chest. He raised his cup. "Cheers to them, then."
"To Crow King and Black Queen." Tormund echoed, lifting his own drink before they both drank deeply.
Davos coughed again, shaking his head as the drink burned through him. "Damn,"
Before Tormund could respond, another voice cut in. "I knew I heard a dead man choking."
Davos turned to see Eddison Tollett standing beside them, a grin on his face. "I see you're still trying to kill people with that drink."
Tormund grinned. "If it kills them, they were too weak to live."
Edd raised an eyebrow. "That explains why you're still breathing."
Tormund grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ah, sorrow from your new command. Lord commander."
Edd sighed heavily and turned to Davos. "This, what fought beside, when Jon was killed. Was his and Val's idea of making the traitors suffer in the ice cells? "
He let out a grunt. "They the deserved the cunts. They will be quite useful as crops." As offered the drinking skin to Edd.
Edd sighed and sniffed the offered skin once before taking the smallest possible sip. His face twisted immediately. "By the gods," he muttered. "This isn't drink. It's a punishment."
Davos chuckled, and all three men stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the feast around them.
Jon and Shireen were smiling, conversing with one of the Skagosi lords. The hall was filled with warmth, both from the roaring fires and the people within. Warriors and friends, old enemies turned allies, all gathered under one roof, bound together by hardship and something even stronger: hope for the future.
Tormund exhaled deeply, watching Jon with something almost resembling pride. "He'll lead us through what's to come," he said quietly. "The little crow. He always does."
Edd hummed in agreement. "Aye. Poor bastard." Davos lifted his cup, his voice low but sure. "To the King Jon and Queen Shireen."
Tormund and Edd exchanged a glance before clinking their cups together. "To Jon and Shireen," Edd said. "To Jon, Shireen," Tormund echoed, grinning. "And to more drink." Edd groaned. "Gods save us all."
Shireen Stark/Targaryen/Baratheon
Shieldhall
Shireen watched the Shieldhall, with people of all sorts of life in happy merry ment. Beside her sat her husband, who had just finished speaking with Lord Muldin. Seeing him talk made her happy. She felt truly happy.
'It had been a long time since she felt this happy. The last time probably was during her eleventh nameday before her father became King. Everything went to shit after. Although it also helped she a little drunk.' She mused as happily as she drained her cup.
"Another cup, my dear. Tonight, we can set things right after it's time," Orys asked, interrupting her musing.
"Hmm, the Nightwatch ale grows on you." She replied as she tried to order, yet Orys interrupted her. "It does, yet my wife, I would wish for a dance. I may have been a bastard growing up, but I got my lessons," Orys asked as he extended his hand to her, a small, teasing smirk on his lips.
Shireen eyed him warily, her fingers grazing his palm before she allowed him to guide her onto the cleared space where others were already swaying to the music. "We'll see if you've learned anything, then." She added with a smirk.
The musicians struck up a lively tune, and Orys moved with confidence, his steps steady and sure. He led her in a measured rhythm, his grip firm but gentle, guiding her with ease. Shireen, hesitant at first, found herself following along, her feet lighter than she expected. 'Who would have thought the girl with greyscale would be dancing with a King at Wall? A story for the singers.'
Orys spun her, and she laughed softly, the sound surprising even her. It wasn't the nervous, uncertain laughter of a girl surrounded by whispers. It was real, unguarded. Orys caught her easily as she returned to him, his dark eyes watching her with quiet pride.
"You're enjoying yourself," he noted as the song came to a close.
She tilted her head, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. "I am."
"Good, maybe this makes it better," Orys replied with a smirk before pressing her closer and kissing softly on the lips. Shireen blushed hard. He kissed right in the middle of the hall. The hall cheered. "To King Crow and the Black Queen," Tormund exclaimed happily.
"To Queen Shireen," Orys added as he hugged her closed. She blushed hard, but she was happy.
"Hmm, wife, shall we retire, or do you wish to stay," Orys asked softly after a while as they continued to dance.
Her heart pounded in her chest at the question. "I wish to go." She replied softly, blushing at the implications.
"Hmm, as you wish, my dear. I have to carry you, though." He replied with a grin. Before he scooped her up. "Thank you, all, for being here tonight. You are all friends and loyal allies. Be happy, be merry, and drink to your desire, as for me and my lovely wife. We shall retire." Orys proclaimed to cheers.
Kingstower
As Orys opened the door, his breath came in strained, heavy bursts, but his grip around Shireen remained firm. She had lost count of how many times she had protested, half-heartedly at that, for him to put her down, but he refused. Yet Orys was as stubborn as ever.
"You've proven your strength, my King," she teased against his ear. "Now, set me down before you collapse on top of me."
"I'm King of the Freefolk. I have now technically stolen you." He proclaimed as he set her down gently on her feet, and she giggled. "Fool, but you are my fool." She said as she kissed him. Then, a set of delighted cries from the far side of the room stopped their kiss.
Ghost lay curled in the corner, his thick white fur nearly blending with the furs beneath him, save for the piercing red eyes that lazily flickered open to regard them. Resting atop him, nestled close like hatchlings seeking warmth, were two baby dragons, small but strong, their scales gleaming in the dim candlelight. Goldwing, bright as gold, Rhaenax was a deep, rich purple.
Shireen smiled at the scene. "The dragons and the Direwolves, still making look at them in awe," she murmured. Orys chuckled. "Aye, same for me."
The dragons chirped, one of them flaring its tiny wings before tucking itself back against Ghost's warm fur.
Shireen knelt, reaching out to stroke the bronze one's snout. It leaned into her touch, its eyes slipping half-closed. "They trust him," she said softly.
"Ghost?" Orys smirked. "Of course they do. I hope I'm that patient when we have children." She shot him a look of delight and crashed into his arms. "You think about that stuff." She asked softly.
Orys wrapped his arms around her waist. The heat of his body seeped into her, chasing away the chill of the evening air. "Aye, I ever since you said yes to marrying me," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Maybe we have our own little ones playing with Ghost."
Shireen's breath caught at his words, "That sounds nice." She replied, smiling.
Then Orys kissed her, slow and deep, and she melted into him, letting the world beyond their chamber fade away.
The dragons chirped again as if in protest, but neither of them paid much mind. Soon, hands wandered, clothing slipped from shoulders, and soon, they found themselves tangled together in the moonlit hush of their chambers.
Orys Targaryen
Kingstower
Orys woke early like always did, yet now, he had his wife lying beside him for the first time in his life. 'Shireen Baratheon, who would have thought after what happened after the war between his father and Robert that a Targaryen and Baratheon would marry again. Yet here they were, two dragons if his family was to believe his Rhaenys.
Shireen looked so peaceful now, her face soft in the dim light of the sun breaking through cracks in windowsuders, the shadows dancing across her delicate features. Her dark lashes fluttered slightly in sleep, her lips parted just enough for the steady rhythm of her breath to escape. He watched her chest rise and fall beneath the thin sheets, the gentle curve of her body outlined by the golden glow of the dying fire in the hearth.
He had never seen her like this before. Unburdened. Serene.
Of the wedding the night before, the way she had smiled, truly smiled, without hesitation or the weight of duty or pain of the pass pressing down upon her. She had been nervous, but there had been happiness, too, which made his heart ache with joy.
The feast had been lively, filled with music and laughter, the hall warm with the scent of roasted meats and Night Watch Ale. He remembered the way she had looked at him when he had leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in the sight of gods and men. There had been no hesitation.
And then later, when they had been alone, she had trembled beneath his touch. He had whispered reassurances, brushing his lips over her forehead, cheeks, and throat's delicate column. When he had given her the lord's kiss, she had gasped, the sound somewhere between shock and wonder. He had felt her fingers curl into his hair, gripping tightly as he worshipped her. The surprise in her eyes had been replaced by something else desire. Something he noticed when they kissed before.
When he finally took her, he had been careful, moving slowly, gently, giving her time to adjust. She had winced at first, her breath catching as she tensed beneath him, but he had soothed her, murmuring words saying he was sorry and it would get better as her fingers dug into his back.
And then, as the pain ebbed, he had felt her relax, her body no more stensing beneath him. A quiet moan had slipped past her lips, hesitant at first, then later fuller, deeper, as she clung to him. He had lost himself in the feeling of her, in the warmth and tightness. Soon he, far too soon, he spilled his seed in her, and he wondered if a child might now grow inside her belly.' Orys mused as he sighed contently.
He stepped out of the bed and started to clothe himself. The noise woke his blue-eyed bride, "Orys?" Shireen asked with a sweet smile. She was still naked, and her firm breast slipped out from under the blankest. The sight made his manhood rise. "Wife." He said as he kissed her firmly on the lips.
"Good morning, I hope you slept well?" He asked. "I did. I feel some discomfort below, but it's not as bad as I suspected it to be. We still had a septa on Dragonstone; she told me some, and my mother did, too. But it didn't compare to what we did," Shireen paused and blushed. "I enjoyed it."
Orys grinned at that. "So did I. It can be enjoyable for both."
"I'm more than willing to bed my wife later tonight if she is up for it. I wouldn't mind another evening of bliss before we ride out for Last Hearth." He added with a grin.
"So do I." She replied with another kiss. As she reveals her entire naked body. "You know you are making it difficult for me not to take your right now. You are far too enticing." He growled as he kissed and pulled her close. "I, I'm?" Shireen replied, grinning.
"Yes," He said, and soon he found himself on top of her, kissing her with vigor. His hands roamed her slim body, and her breasts were perfect in his hands. "Orys," Shireen moaned. "Take off those damn clothes, take me."
It was a strange thing; what he felt was that he had felt it last night. But now it was instinct, the urge to have her. She truly was intoxicating. 'What was happening,' he mused. "As wish, my Queen." He replied.
Quick, he discarded his clothes and looked at his wife, who was lying ready for him in bed. He returned to her, opened her legs, and looked at her pretty, cunt wish was well-shaven. Not the red bush that Yiggritte had. 'Let have tasted before I take her again.' He mused at the sight
"Oh, Orys," Shireen began, and she shuddered in pleasure as he did his work with his tongue fingers.
He went on, his tongue and later a finger made work of Shireen. Not much later, He felt her shuddered and moaned loudly in pleasure. "Enjoy it, wife," He asked as he climbed up toward her head and kissed her. "Yes, very much," She said as the kiss broke apart.
"You taste wonderful." He added as he aligned himself with her cunt.
"Fuck," he groaned as he softly slid into her wetness. 'Damn, she was still tight.' He groaned inwardly. "Orys," Shireen moaned softly. At the word, he began to move. "So good." He moaned.
"Shireen," he moaned as he moved quicker. "Orys, my love," Shireen murmured through the kisses. She helped as she closed her legs around his waist, as he devoured her, needing her. His movements became more ragged as he came close to finishing. "Shireen," he growled as he finished and spent his seed inside her, thrusting a couple more times before collapsing on top of her.
"Well, I hope that is also good for you. I don't know what it is, but I feel an instinctive need for you." He murmured after he lay down on the bed beside her. "Orys, it was the same for me and enjoyable too. It ached a little, but a good ache." She replied.
"Hmm, maybe it has something to do with what my father said. I needed to find my Rhaenys and Visenya, and I know you are one of them. Maybe that's why our connection is that deep. I felt the moment I awoke after my death." Orys added as he gave another kiss. "That might be it. I feel that, too." Shireen said, smiling.
"Come, let's get out of bed and break our fast. We still need to prepare for our journey to Last Hearth." He said with a sigh.
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