There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
For some reason this was my favourite chapter to write. Also, expect some kind of modern language rather than the usual Game of Thrones style that the series uses, just because I can't manage it. I like to write fluff too much.
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Rhaenar found herself tucked beneath Mero's hulking figure as the violet of pre-dawn surrounded the pair; her hands stretched across the plains of his back as her chest was left exposed to the frigid air, goosebumps having raised across the smooth flesh. After the excitement of yesterday, Rhaenar could barely keep her hands from finding Mero's as they escaped back to the tent, desperate to collapse into bed and into the clutches of sleep.
The crown sat on the chair beside them, the chain that had been wrapped around her shoulders quickly unclipped and settled within the silver piece to prevent it from getting lost on the floor; their clothes discarded around them as he brought the furs up, cloaking their bodies. It was odd to think of this large man having clutched her like a teddy bear, his head buried within her chest as her arms kept him safe for a change. He didn't care if he looked vulnerable in that moment, just that the woman he wanted was holding him.
What wasn't covered by the furs, had been left to Mero's dutiful hands. The right almost instantly snaking up, cupping at the screwed flesh of her nipple. He could feel the hardness within the little bundle of nerves, the pad of his thumb almost covering it whole as he teased it. Small jolts of electrical currents from his ministrations, her mouth opening slightly at the feeling. Mero glanced up, his eyes locking onto her face before taking the other nipple into his mouth, swallowing the cold bud with his hot tongue. Rhaenar jolted, hands itching to dig through his hair as she tightened her grip on his back. She had to think about the Iron Bank, she couldn't keep herself within his embrace all of today.
Rhaenar whined, Mero's hands slinking away, his fingertips brushing the curve of her hip before stopping at her thigh; his hand locking around the underside of the knee before pulling it up. "Mero, no." She uttered, not entirely sure herself but his hand left her at the word no, sleep ladened eyes blinking up at her.
She had forgotten that no almost always meant no to him, that any time she changed her consent would stop at the drop of a hat, no questions asked unless they were in far too deep that her no actually meant keep going, and that she was just scrambling for words to utter. "I know, you have the Iron Bank today." He said softly, his voice thick with sleep.
"I'm sorry."
Mero rose onto his elbows, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, you're a Queen. You have more important things to worry about than me." She grinned at him, cupping his cheek.
