“If you can see the future in these flames, how is it that we burned upon the Blackwater? You gave my sons to the fire…my sons, my ship, my men, all burning.” - A Storm of Swords
Melisandre, Stannis, and Davos as illustrated by Charles Vess in the Subterranean Press editionof A Storm of Swords
preferences: the first time having sex with them. requested by: anon this preference includes: littlefinger, davosw, jorah and tyrion. warnings: NO SPOILERS for season 8, nsfw.
Petyr Baelish
He’s a cold and cynical man who wants what he wants and now -if he wants you, he will. With his charms, he’d have your consent to what he wants from you. He gives you a drink to calm your nerves, and the first kiss he gives you to initiate is full of lust and desire, not love or romance. This man is in it for his pleasure and his alone.
Davos Seaworth
Intimacy is not much of his strong suit, but he is far from being rough with you. He is also not much of a man of romance, but he puts in the great effort for you. Comfort is key to him, and he makes sure that you are as satisfied as he is.
Jorah Mormont
He’s not a lustful man by any means, but if he were to be intimate with you, he has to love you, and when he does, it hits him like a sledgehammer. He’s yours to have and anything you desire in bed he will give to you. Always ever so gentle and speaks calmly to you when he senses you being nervous.
Tyrion Lannister
If he wants sex, he could pay for it like he used to, but he doesn’t have that desire in him anymore. Nowadays, it has to be with someone who doesn’t just want him for his money or the power he has. If you wish to have him, you got to earn his trust, and that doesn’t come cheap. He’s comfortable with pretty much anywhere, but in your case, it can be done in your chambers. Offers you wine to calm your nerves and talks to you, and lets you take the lead. Thanks to his experience, he is gentle and very aware of what you want and where you want it.
Jon is happy beyond the Wall, where the Night’s Watch handles diplomacy between the Wildlings, the North, and Westeros.
Arya is a renowned adventure-having badass who has expanded what they know of the West. Occasionally, a Faceless Man shows up to check in on her (and no one dies).
Bran has stabilized the Six Kingdoms and is casually looking for the next Three-Eyed Raven/King of Westeros.
Brienne continues to be happy.
Davos gets regular vacations.
Naarth stays safe because of Grey Worm and the Unsullied.
Tyrion is allowed to step down as the Hand of the King after he’s helped choose a worthy successor into whose capable hands the Six Kingdoms can be left.
The North is thriving under the watchful eye of Sansa Stark.
The issue of succession for House Stark is raised. Sansa just smiles and lets her advisors know that that will be resolved when the Ambassador of the Six Kingdoms to the North arrives. Tyrion shows up and they finally get to have a good, solid, supportive marriage.
And, somewhere in the East, Drogon waits as a Red Priestess chants over a body. Then, as the flash forward ends, Daenerys Targaryen is revived with blood red eyes, signifying that she is the Fire equivalent of the Night King.
Stannis- Heard you were dead. Davos- Not yet. I had hoped to speak to you alone, your grace. Stannis- We are alone. Davos- Your Grace, you are the rightful king. Not only by blood. You’re an honorable man, a just man, and there is still a war to fight. Stannis- I am fighting. Davos- By burning prisoners alive? Melisandre- How would you punish the infidels, Ser Davos? Davos- I do not judge people for the gods they worship. If I did, I’d have thrown you in the sea before you ever set foot on Dragonstone. Melisandre- I’m not your enemy. Davos- You are my enemy. Melisandre- Was it me you fought on Blackwater bay? Did I set your ships ablaze? I wasn’t there when the wildfire killed our men by the thousands. I could have saved those men. If you would have taken the city, Stannis would sit upon his rightful throne and you would stand beside him. But I wasn’t there because you convinced your king to leave me behind. Do you hear them screaming? All those burning men in the water? Crying for their mothers, for their gods, for help until the moment that the black water swallowed them? Don’t despair Ser Davos. What I told your son is true. Death by fire is the purest death. Davos- (Lunging at Melisandre) This woman is evil! She’s the mother of demons! Stannis- Take him to the dungeon. Lock him in a cell.
Patchface danced closer, his cowbells ringing […] The maester sat silent while the fool set the antlered bucket on his brow. Cressen bowed his head beneath the weight. His bells clanged. “Perhaps he ought to sing his counsel henceforth,” Lady Selyse [mocked].
“You go too far, woman,” Lord Stannis said. “He is an old man, and he’s served me well.” And I will serve you to the last, my sweet lord, my poor lonely son, Cressen thought, for suddenly he saw the way. […] [Poisoned c]up in hand, he rose to his feet. “Mayhaps I have been a fool. Lady Melisandre, will you share this cup of wine with me? A cup in honor of your god, your Lord of Light? A cup to toast his power?”
The red woman studied him. “If you wish.”
He could feel them all watching him. Davos clutched at him as he left the bench, catching his sleeve with the fingers that Lord Stannis had shortened. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
“A thing that must be done,” Maester Cressen answered, “for the sake of the realm, and the soul of my lord.” He shook off Davos’s hand, spilling a drop of wine on the rushes.
She met him beneath the high table with every man’s eyes upon them. But Cressen saw only her. Red silk, red eyes, the ruby red at her throat, red lips curled in a faint smile as she put her hand atop his own, around the cup. Her skin felt hot, feverish. “It is not too late to spill the wine, Maester.”
“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “No.”
“As you will.” Melisandre of Asshai took the cup from his hands and drink long and deep. There was only half a swallow of wine remaining when she offered it back to him. “And now you.”
His hands were shaking, but he made himself be strong. A maester of the Citadel must not be afraid. The wine was sour on his tongue. He let the empty cup drop from his fingers to shatter on the floor. “He does have power here, my lord,” the woman said. “And fire cleanses.” At her throat, the ruby shimmered redly. Cresson tried to reply, but his words caught in his throat. His cough became a terrible thin whistle as he strained to suck in air. Iron fingers tightened around his neck. As he sank to his knees, still he shook his head, denying her, denying her power, denying her magic, denying her god. And the cowbells peeled in his antlers, singing fool,fool,foolwhile the red woman looked down on him and pity, the candle flames dancing in her red red eyes.
George R.R. Martin (A Clash of Kings, pages 27, 28-29)
