“I certainly judged the character. I think I’m allowed to judge the character, particularly in today’s context, in terms of that abuse of power. He’s at the top of this structure, in terms of the hierarchy of the world, and he abuses that power to take advantage of our protagonist who is a literal representation of hope and sunshine, in order to pursue his agenda. In today’s world, that is obviously something that I can’t find a way to condone, but it doesn’t mean it’s not my job, as an actor, to justify why he thinks it’s all right, considering that he believes in going to any lengths to pursue his cause, which he believes is for the greater good, he believes is protecting his people, and he believes is necessary. It doesn’t make it any more condone-able that he might be genuinely falling for this person. It might be this person that could give hope and light to him again in the future. Those questions are interesting to pose. I see him as the antagonist. I don’t know whether I see him as necessarily the villain. “
- Ben Barnes on the “Make Me Your Villain” Scene, Collider.
Darkling/General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova x Targaryen!Reader
Part 1
Shadow and Bone and Game of Thrones crossover
A/N: My new story is finally released y’all! Sorry if it took a while but this semester has me in a chokehold. I will be publishing it as a series so I hope you lovelies enjoy! And as always feedback and reblogs are much appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Have a beautiful day!
Summary: Imagine being the youngest Targaryen and the half-sister of Daenerys. You had lived most of your life in captivity, shut off from the world after your brother Viserys married you off to an old lord at the age of 12 as means to get rid of you for being a half-breed. You used to be a bright and free-spirited child who saw nothing but the goodness in those around you, but the experiences you faced made you grow cold and distant with a lack of remorse for the wicked. Not wanting to live the life your brother had chained you to, you ran away and finally reunited with your sister and helped her win back the throne. (Season 8 never happened) Wanting to build a life of your own, you set sail across the seas with your dragons and army, traveling far and wide before venturing into foreign land in a place called Ravka where you stumble upon a kingdom with a king who you loathe, believing him undeserving of rule. During your stay there, you cross paths with a certain raven-haired general with aspirations of his own. Will you stand alongside him in his mission, or will you take the throne for your own and rule as Y/N Targaryen, the Dragon Witch Queen of Ravka?
Warnings: vulgar language, mentions of rape and abuse and suicide, mentions of abuse against a minor, mentions of incestuous themes, violence and gore, sexual themes. This series will have some dark themes so please read at your own risk.
Notes: slow burn, angst, enemies to lovers trope. Flashbacks are in italics.
Flashback takes place in Pentos 4 years before Daenerys’s marriage to Khal Drogo. Reader is 12 while Daenerys is 13.
“Something doesn’t seem right.” You muttered out in a faint voice. A frown was painted on your features as you stood by the balcony overlooking the sea that touched the coast of Pentos, watching the small waves caress the sandy shores while your fingers traced along the cracks and grooves that lined the stone handrail.
"Whatever do you mean?” Your sister Daenerys asked from behind you while she brushed through your hair.
“Why is Viserys having us dress up?”
“Well he said we’re having important guests.”
“Yes but I don’t understand what that has to do with us.”
"I don’t know. I’m sure it’s important with whatever he is doing.” Daenerys shrugged as she separated parts of your hair for a braid, running her fingers through your lengths lovingly before interlocking them with each other. She had always loved your hair growing up, believing it to be unique to the Targaryen line who were known for their silver hair. You had instead inherited your mother’s skin and her hair, which was a rich y/h/c that cascaded down your back. If one were to see you amongst your siblings, they would not have recognized you as a Targaryen if it weren’t for your eyes. Like the famous dragon riders of long before, you shared their purple orbs that had passed down generations, a proud symbol of their Valyrian heritage. While Daenerys’s eyes were a striking color of violet reminiscent of the flowers themselves, yours were the color of amethysts with flakes of gold that resembled a bit of the fire that embodied the dragons of your name. Despite being the bastard child of Aerys Targaryen, the Targaryen blood still ran through your veins, and the talk of you and your sister’s beauty had reached lands as far as the eye could see.
“Am I being sent away?”
“What? Of course not! What gave you that idea?”
“He’s mentioned it before. I know that he hates me for being a half-breed.”
“Don’t say that.” Daenerys sighed, tying off your braid before resting her hands on your shoulders. “I don’t think Viserys is going to send you away y/n.”
The sound of the door creaking from being opened echoed through the room, and as you turned towards it, you saw your older brother Viserys waltz in, a confident grin plastered on his face as he stridden over to the two of you with a bundle of dresses draped over his arms. “Ah. There the two of you are. I bring gifts from the North.”
“The north?” Dany looked at him with her brows knitted together in confusion. “From who?”
“Our new guests of course. This one is for you Dany.” He handed her a dress before turning to you. “And this…..is for you. Pretty isn’t it? Feel the fabric, fine wool from the north.”
You gave Viserys a quizzical look before eyeing the bundled up dress that was draped over his arms with much skepticism.
“Well go on. Touch it.”
You reached a hesitant hand towards the dress, twisting the dark gray fibered fabric that was trimmed with embroidery between your fingers with a distasteful look on your face. “It’s rough.”
“That’s because it’s wool. It’s meant to keep you warm against the cold.”
“But why? It’s not cold here.”
"Because dear sister.” Viserys moved a loose strand of your hair behind your ear before placing his fingers under your chin with a smugness hidden behind the fraud paternal gaze that masked it. “You are getting married.”
Your face paled in reaction, your eyes widening at his words while every inch of your skin turned cold.
“M-married?” Daenerys stuttered in disbelief, her voice small, afraid to raise her tone at him in fear he’d lash out like he had many times before to keep her amenable. The violets of her eyes which were usually bright, now grew dark and flickered with the thoughts that ran through her head. “To who?”
“A wealthy lord in the north. Well,” He rolled his eyes in disappointment. “Not wealthy enough but still. He paid quite the price for this one. Now she can finally be off my hands.” Viserys stared down at you with coldness in his gaze, his grip on your chin only getting tighter as his nails started to dig in to the skin there, causing you to wince. There was something behind the pale lilacs of his eyes that mirrored just a flicker of the past, of your father, The Mad King. You had never met your father, for he had died before you were even born. But you had heard plenty of stories through Viserys and others, and you could have sworn you saw that same madness in your brother in this very moment. But there was also something else that you couldn’t quite put a name to, something you were still too young to quite understand even though the sense of it unsettled you. It was a look that you had often seen whenever he was in the presence of Dany. Though there was that same bit of lust hidden behind them that he shared for Dany, a look that disgusted you whenever he glanced upon your sister, there was also contempt, a hatred that only filled them in your presence despite the brotherly smile he put on.
“The north? You’re sending her to the north? You-you can’t.” You heard Dany whimper beside you while you glared back at Viserys, your nails digging into the skin of your palms.
“I’ll do as I please. And this one is going to do as it is told. Aren’t you half-breed?”
“But you can’t.” Daenerys pleaded. “She’s only 12. She’s just a child.”
"And so are you. Quiet Daenerys.” Viserys snapped at her before turning back to you. “You. Undress, now. I need to make sure Lord Pythias is getting his coin’s worth.”
“But-” You quivered.
“Now. Before I do it myself.”
Your hands trembled as they fumbled with the buttons of your dress, tears forming in your eyes as you did not want to bare yourself in front of your brother. You were filled with resentment towards him, your fingers itching to claw those foul eyes out from his skull so that he could never look upon you or Dany ever again. But your fear had overcome your anger, and so you did not have the strength nor the courage to do such a thing. “Viserys please don’t make me do this.” Your lip quivered as you lowered your gaze to the floor, your hands clutching your dress over your chest once it dropped down your shoulders.
“Viserys please.” Daenerys begged, pulling on the sleeve of your brother’s tunic. "Marry me off. But not y/n.”
“Quiet Daenerys.”
“You can’t do this! She’s all that I have left. Please don’t send her away!” Your sister cried out, the sound of desperation in her voice stopping you from letting your dress fall to the floor.
“I said quiet!” Viserys hit her with the back of his hand, causing Dany to tear up as she held her reddened cheek.
You fumed at the sight of him striking out at her, your nostrils flaring and your breathing quickening. You don’t know what came over you as you bared your teeth and attacked your older brother in blind fury, it was almost as if all that abuse that you had endured, bottled up inside had finally boiled over. “Don’t touch her!”
Viserys was caught off guard of you lunging yourself at him as he watched you with wide eyes. His hands were held out in front of him as he tried to fight you off until you brought your hand down at him and scratched him across his face.
“Agh! ……….You hit me. Why you little bitch.” He stood stunned for a moment from the stinging pain on his cheek, touching his face to see blood on his fingertips.
You stepped back in a mixture of fear and disbelief, coming into realization of what you had just done. “Viserys p-please. I’m-I’m sorry.”
“How dare you! You little half-breed whore!” Viserys’s face distorted into rage as he threw you to the ground and hovered over your form, pinning you down while repeatedly hitting you across your face with the back of his hand. You cried out in pain from his violent strikes, writhing under him as the ring that he wore on one of his fingers sliced across your face in small cuts. “You’ve made a big mistake you little slut! You have woken the dragon! And now you’re going to pay for it!”
“Viserys stop! Please!” Dany cried out as she fell to her knees with tears streaming down her face as she tried to reach out for you.
“What in the name of Westeros is going on in here?” A loud booming voice was heard approaching the area.
Viserys stopped with an annoyed expression, turning towards the door to see Illyrio Mopatis appear in the room. “What?”
“Have you lost your senses? Lord Pyhtias wants her untouched, not a single mark on her. What will he think when he sees this?” Illyrio huffed once he saw you pinned beneath your brother, your skin flushed scarlet with small drops of blood trickling out from the tiny cuts that lined your face, along with a deeper cut that had formed on your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut against the tears that ran down the sides of your face and burned against your newly formed wounds while you held your arms up to shield you.
“The little bitch opened her mouth.” Viserys got off you and stood to his feet, looking down at your shivering form with pure disgust before calmly telling Illyrio. “I’ll just tell Lord Pythias the bitch fell down some steps. After all, her being a virgin is what matters to him most.”
“Heavens sake. Get her cleaned up and dressed. They should be here any moment.” Illyrios voiced, shrugging the whole thing off before walking away.
“Get her dressed and ready Dany.” Viserys ordered with a clenched jaw. “And you, half-breed, do not disappoint me, or else I’ll have Pythias and his men take their turns with you in front of the whole city to get what I want.”
Daenerys quietly watched him leave the room before rushing over to your side, her face filled with worry as she helped you up from the floor. “Shh it’s okay y/n. I have you.”
You sobbed into your sisters shoulder, tears pouring down your face as she cradled your trembling form in her arms, rocking you back and forth and softly singing you a lullaby while tears streamed down her face as well. The both of you were hurt, terrified, and neither of you wanted to let go knowing what was to happen.
The wedding had come much sooner than you had wanted as you stood in the dining hall with your sister and Viserys beside you, waiting for your future husband to arrive. Both you and Daenerys wore the dresses gifted to you, the heavy fabric of the north scratching against your skin, something that you were not at all accustomed to from being in the weather of Essos. Your face had been washed off of the blood, and though the wounds were not deep, the pain of it was still there, stinging beneath the clear ointment that your sister had applied. Your eyes were glassy, lifeless, nor was there a single thought amongst them as you stared out at the tile floor of the hall. You prayed to the gods for some miracle, anything, wanting it to be the sudden death of Lord Pythias and his men, wishing for a great storm to come and bury his ship at the bottom of the sea and drown those that sailed it. But the gods worked not in your favor, for just a few moments later, one of the servants entered to announce the arrival of the Northerners.
You blinked out of your lifeless daze, looking up from the ground from the feeling of your sister’s hand grabbing yours. And as you looked towards her profile, you saw a frown sitting on her lips. Her skin which was normally pale, was now almost as white as the hair that sat on her delicate head. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it quickly after sensing Viserys straighten up beside you.
“Remember what I told you sweet sister.” You heard him say in your ear. “You wouldn’t want all his men having you for themselves now would you. After all, one word from me and I’m sure Lord Pythias would be more than eager to act upon it.”
“No.”
“No what?” He clenched his jaw, his hand tightly pinching the flesh of your arm and causing you to wince. “I need you to be clear.”
“I promise I’ll obey.”
“Good.” Viserys smiled with a nod in approval as he retuned his hand back to his side. “It’s a good thing you and Dany are pretty, even though you’re just a half-breed. I would sell the two of you to every man in the world and let them fuck you if it meant me getting the throne.”
“May the gods gift you a crown of fire.” You muttered under your breath.
“What was that?” Viserys hissed.
“I said, dear brother, may the gods gift you a crown of fire. A crown fit for a dragon, for fire cannot kill a dragon.”
“A crown of fire fit for a dragon.” Viserys smirked at the thought, his eyes glossed over with his own delusional ambitions, oblivious to the darker meaning you had behind it, and that you had meant it more as a prayer of vengeance that the gods might soon fulfill rather than a tribute to his honor. “I like that. I hope that you might one day see it dear sister, to see me with the crown I so rightfully deserve.”
The three of you turned at the sound of scattered footsteps echoing off the walls, the clicking of boots tapping against the floor like hooves against dirt, getting louder and louder. And as you looked towards the entrance with panic written in your eyes, you saw a group of men enter the hall led by a short older, rather stout looking individual in the front with another man walking beside him. Their clothes were dark and gray, devoid of any color and character, a stark difference to the vibrance of Essos that you were so accustomed to. The boots of the men were still caked with the mud from the North, tracking the dirt all over the floors as they went. And they carried with them their house banner, a symbol of a boar. Your fingers tightened around the cold hand of your sister, your jaw clenching as you watched the man leading them get closer and closer to where you stood with your siblings, his form swaying with each heavy step until finally stopping in front of Viserys.
“Lord Pythias.” Your brother nodded his head respectfully. “It’s an honor to have you join us.”
“The pleasure is all mine Viserys!” Lord Pythias patted your brother’s shoulder before gesturing to the man that had remained at his side since you saw them enter through the doors. “This here is my personal bodyguard and advisor Sir Bjorn Maurinus from Braavos.” Lord Pythias spoke in a voice that was throaty and wheezy, as if he were struggling with each line he spoke, the sound unpleasant to the ears and what one would describe as the snorting of a hog.
The man whom Pythias had just introduced remained unmoving, giving Viserys just the slightest nod that barely went noticed. Bjorn Maurinus was a tall man of a lean figure of age 47, and there was a certain sharpness about his stature from the hook of his nose to the deep browns of his eyes that made you curiously drawn to his character, for there was not a single sign of emotion nor change of expression in the impassiveness of his face in the time that he was there. Your eyes caught the glint of the handle that belonged to his sword that sat at his hip, and as you lowered your gaze, you noticed that his left leg had been cut off below the knee, where a wooden limb had now replaced it. Bjorn had noticed you staring at his wooden leg, and with an unpleasant twist of his thin lips and a scowl in your direction, he pulled his cloak over to cover it.
“Well well well, this must be my new bride.” You heard Pythias draw out his words, looking over to see him disgustingly leer at you with a lick of his pale and chapped lips, the way a predator would his meal. His irises were a dull gray, lacking any sign of warmth or compassion in them, reminding you of the blades of daggers and swords that were used to cut down men. And his eyes themselves were toad-like, sitting far apart from each other on his face and bulging out of their sockets.
“Indeed. Come sweet sister.” Viserys waved you over. “This is my youngest sister y/n. Your new bride-to-be. What do you think?”
“She’s pretty, really pretty.” Lord Pythias came over to grab your jaw, lifting and turning your face to each side as if he were inspecting cattle. It took everything in you to not flinch and shrivel away, even the mere smell of him made you feel ill. And now that his face was a mere inches from yours, the sight of him disgusted and horrified you. Viserys had noticed the way you recoiled and in response grabbed you with a flare of his nostrils, gripping your arm firmly between his grasp to keep you in place. From the pressure Viserys was applying around your arms, you were sure the prints of his hand would leave a bruise in its place. Lord Pythias was much older than you, a man in his 50s with thinning hair whom you thought had no business marrying a girl of your age. You could tell that he had not bathed in days, the smell of him was absolutely rancid and turned the contents of your stomach making you feel nauseous. He reeked of ale and beer and it was evident in his breath from the way he breathed so heavily on your face. And from the way the whites of his eyes and his skin tinted of yellow, it was clear that he drank often. His hands had not been washed either for there was dirt underneath his fingernails as you could feel the grime on them just by him touching you, and you were definite they would leave a trace once he removed his fleshy fingers from your face. “Her face is cut up.” Lord Pythias gave a disapproving look.
“Yes, well,” Viserys cleared his throat, “my dear sister can be quite graceless at times and fell down some steps.”
“Hmph. I wanted her pretty for the ceremony. Is she a virgin?”
“Oh of course, she hasn’t been touched by a single man, I made sure of it. I’m sure your lordship finds that agreeable.”
“Oh yes.” The man smiled at that. “And what of her figure? Has she grown into her womanly curves?”
“No, not yet, she turned twelve just a few months ago.”
“Good. Good. I’ll take her.” Lord Pythias dropped his hands from your face before turning to his bodyguard. “Bjorn, hand Viserys his gold.”
You watched with unsteady breaths, your heart pounding in your chest as if it were to burst through this very second and leave you dead in order to save itself as you fixed your gaze on the leather pouch that contained your weight in gold be handed over to your brother. Tears threatened to spill from the corner of your eyes and your knees trembled beneath the skirt of your gown. It felt as if your legs were in the process of giving out underneath you, and if it weren’t for your sister, your surely would have collapsed to the floor. You felt powerless, trapped between the walls that would soon become your life. The gold was a declaration of your imprisonment, an emblem of your dying freedom, and there was not a single thing left to save you now.
“Perfect.” Viserys smiled, weighing the pouch of gold in his palms. “Illyrios, bring in the guests will you. It’s time that my sister got married.”
The wedding ceremony had been short and forthright, not a single ounce of elaborateness or emotion in it as you were cloaked and joined at the hands for the tying of the ribbon. It all seemed like a fever dream as it passed, just a blur of the senses as you now sat at the dining table for the feast. Lord Pythias had been seated beside you, drunk from his many glasses of wine and howling with laughter as he shouted boisterously amongst his peers while Sir Bjorn Maurinus sat quietly on your right. You had not touched your food during the whole feast, your face wooden as your stared down at your plate, occasionally flinching in repulsion each time that Lord Pythias placed his meaty hands on your thighs. You found yourself staring time and time again at the knife that was placed on the table in front of you, lined up perfectly with the other silverware, the silver glinting across your eyes in a beam of light. You found yourself drawn to it, as if it were calling out your name for that sweet escape, just that quick swipe of the blade and it would be over, all of it. It had not even been more than two hours in the time that you were married, and you already dreaded it, wanting nothing more than to end it here, right now. As if suddenly overtaken by a trance, you found yourself reaching for the knife, closing your fingers around the cool metal until a voice stopped you.
“What do you think you are doing?” Sir Bjorn’s spoke from beside you, his voice thick with the accent of Braavos from the roll of his r’s.
“I’m-I was going to eat.”
“The girl lies. That’s a load of horseshit if I’ve ever heard one.” Sir Bjorn pulled the goblet to his lips, taking a sip of the dark wine. “I know that look girl.”
“I-I don’t know what you mean.” You turned towards him only for him to prevent you for doing so.
“Don’t. Keep your head forward. Now tell me. A girl turns 12 and weds a cunt old enough to be the father of her father. You had not touched your food since it was placed before you. You and I both know what your intentions are.”
“Is it so wrong then? It’s my life to take.”
“The girl wishes to die then.”
“…………Yes. I-I don’t want to live through the wedding night.”
“So. The girl wishes to die and never see her sister again, instead of fighting and living to see another day.”
“If I fight, I put my sister at risk.”
“Not if the girl dances with her enemies.”
“What do you mean?”
“If the girl is patient, she can live to see another day.”
“How?”
“One step at a time.”
You caught slight movement at the corner of your vision, shifting your eyes ever so slightly to see Sir Bjorn lower his hand to offer you a small vial.
“Take this. Keep it in the folds of your sleeves. And do not let a single soul see it. Understand?”
“What is it?” You dropped your hand to your side, making sure to keep your eyes forward as you took the small glass vial in your hand,, feeling the contents swirl inside as you stuffed it in the sleeve of your wedding dress.
“When he takes you to his chambers on his ship tonight, offer him a glass of wine and pour a drop in. It will keep him unconscious until sunrise and he will not remember a thing.”
“And then what? How long am I supposed to keep up with this act?” You questioned, but to no avail, for when you turned to look at him, he had returned to his meal and avoided your gaze, his face once again that unreadable expression as if the conversation had never happened.
The sun had started to set upon the horizon, casting the sky in brushstrokes of reds and oranges that reflected against the waters of the earth, painting the sea the color of blood as far as you could see. The scene almost looked ominous as you stood by the docks, waiting for Lord Pythias’s men to board the ship until it would eventually be your turn to step onto the wooden plank that lead to it. The cloak that Lord Pythias had gifted you was wrapped over your shoulder, the furs of the collar tickling against your cheek from the light breeze as you huddled against Daenerys, the two of you holding on to each other as if it was the last thing left of your mortality.
“I don’t want to go.” You stared out, scowling at the sight of Viserys and Lord Pythias laughing with each other, the two men that singlehandedly ruined your very existence and will to live.
“I know.” Daenerys spoke softly. She had tried so desperately to not weep in front of you, but it came to a point that she could no longer hold back the tears as they poured down her face.
“Daenerys……if I don’t make it back.”
“What are you on about?”
“I’m being serious.” You turned to her with tears in your eyes. “By the time the ship sails, I will be on my way to the North. None of us have been there, and it is far from here. Gods know what will happen to me. I might never see you again.”
“Don’t say that.” Daenerys shook her head frantically as she held you tighter. “The gods will bring us back together.”
“You don’t know that!” You snapped. “You-you don’t know that. Gods. I-I-can’t do this. I can’t get married to him.”
“Y/n!” Viserys voice rang out as he called out to you. “It’s time for you to go to your new home!”
New home. You scoffed at the thought. You were positive your new home would end up becoming the death of you. You stared into the violets of your sister’s eyes with widened eyes of your own, watching the tears roll down her pale cheeks before throwing yourself in her arms and sobbing into them. “Daenerys, I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you.”
“Y/n. Y/n.” Viserys’s voice became louder as he walked up to the two of you with an annoyed expression on his face. “It’s time to go. You wouldn’t want to keep your husband waiting now would you?”
“No. I don’t want to be his wife.”
“Y/n, what did I tell you.”
“Brother please.” You tried to reason with him but yelped in pain as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.
“Listen here you little half-breed cunt!” Viserys hissed as he pulled at your hair to make you look at him.
“Ow! Viserys you’re hurting me.” You clawed at his hands to free yourself from his grip.
“I don’t give a damn! That man paid good money for you. And you’re going to keep him happy by being his little whore, or I swear on my mother’s grave, I will let you rot in the North while every single man there fucks you like the little bitch that you are, and you will never see your sister again!” Viserys snarled in your ear before ripping you away from Daenerys and dragging you away to the ship by the back of your dress.
“Y/n! Viserys please!” Daenerys fell to her knees as she watched you get further and further away from her reach.
“Dany!” You craned your head back to look at your sister, your cheeks wet with your tears as your feet struggled to keep up with Viserys’s steps.
“This is your last warning half-breed.” Viserys stood you on the deck of Lord Pythias’s ship. “There is no one there to protect you now. Do I have your word?“
You stared up at your brother, seeing the coldness in his eyes. "Yes. You have my word.”
Viserys smiled at your answer, pushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ears before stroking your cheek with his finger. “Good. That is all I ever wanted sweet sister, your obedience and your loyalty. I promise, when I am king, I will bring you back home so that you, Dany and I could finally be together, where we belong.”
For a moment, you swore you saw that old part of Viserys, of what used to be your kinder, younger brother who did everything that he could to take care of Dany and you. You fluttered your eyes closed against your tears as Viserys placed a soft and lingering kiss to your forehead, your body aching with the emotions that filled you as you watched your brother step back onto the dock.
“Lady y/n.” You heard Sir Bjorn step up beside you. “Right this way please.”
You followed the man to the end of the ship, stepping onto the back deck as the ship started to set sail. It felt as if you no longer had the ability to cry, the tears that had streamed down your face just a second ago, now dried up from the air as you stared out at where your sister stood next to Viserys on the dock. Your expression matched hers as the wind blew against you, blowing back the braid that Dany had done that morning as you clutched the cloak closer to your frame. The ship started to sway beneath your feet against the waves as it began to set sail, leaving the shores of Pentos. The glass vial felt heavy in your sleeve as you stood unmoving, your eyes never leaving your sisters as she became smaller and smaller the further out you went into the sea until she became just a speck in the horizon. And when you could no longer see any remaining sign of her, of the one person you cared about, you turned away, not knowing if you would get out alive to ever see her again.
Darkling/General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova x Targaryen!Reader
Shadow and Bone x Game of Thrones Crossover, maybe even Lord of the Rings added in there.
A/N: Hello lovelies! This is just something I plan on working on pretty soon here. Let me know if you are interested in the idea and would like to be added to the tag list!
Notes: slow burn, angst, enemies to lovers trope
Summary: Imagine being the youngest Targaryen and the half-sister of Daenerys. You had lived most of your life in captivity, shut off from the world especially after your brother Viserys married you off to an old lord at the age of 12 as means to get rid of you for being a half-breed. You used to be a bright and free-spirited child who saw nothing but the goodness in those around you, but the experiences you faced made you grow cold and distant with a lack of remorse for the wicked. Not wanting to live the life your brother had chained you to, you ran away and finally reunited with your sister, acting as her right-hand and her most trusted advisor and helping her win back the throne. (Season 8 never happened) But after all you had went through in your early years, you yearned for a life of your own; your own journey and your own path, something you could work and build towards with your own hands. So you set sail across the seas with your dragons and with soldiers of your own, traveling far and wide before venturing into foreign land in a place called Ravka where you stumble upon a kingdom with a king who you end up despising, believing him undeserving of rule. During your stay there, you cross paths with a certain raven-haired general with aspirations of his own. Will you stand alongside him in his mission, or will you take the throne for your own and rule as Y/N Targaryen, the Dragon Witch Queen of Ravka?
The pond was small, the color of sage, but reflected the sun as it shone above. Its alcove covered by heavy yields of trees; every one different. Their barks bending or white, leaves turning from green to an alluring array of autumn shades.
The cove was the color of the golden sun.
From the distance he kept, Aleksander reveled in the silhouette of you.
I wanted him to be hard, to be strong. I taught him the lesson my mother and father taught me: to rely on no one. That love—fragile and fickle and raw—was nothingcompared to power.He was a brilliant boy. He learned too well.
instagram • netflixgeeked:THEM: You’re too invested in Shadow and Bone. ME: Fine, make me your villain. (8/9 celebrating Shadow and Bone’s 1 year anniversary) @marissasketches
instagram • netflixgeeked:On repeat for the foreseeable future: Enjoy this deleted scene from S1 of Shadow and Bone (5/9 celebrating Shadow and Bone’s 1 year anniversary) @marissasketches
