Orys Targaryen
Orys's chambers in Ironrath
Orys awoke. The morning light was just beginning to filter in through the curtains, golden and soft, casting long streaks across the bed. He rubbed his eyes and turned, finding Shireen lying beside him, naked as her nameday. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow like spilled ink, one hand curled near her cheek. For a moment, he simply looked at her, feeling that same strange warmth fill his chest. It was more than desire. It was something protective, deep, and rooted, the same he felt for his siblings.
Carefully, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, then another, higher up, trailing a path along her collarbone and toward her neck. She stirred, murmuring something soft and sleepy. Then her eyes blinked open—those sea-blue eyes—and she smiled.
"Orys," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Morning, dear," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You look radiant as ever."
Begin Smut
He kissed her gently on the lips, lingering, and when he pulled away, her smile deepened. His hand slid along the curve of her waist, tracing her softly. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, and she sighed as he touched her, her body responding before words ever could.
"You're staring again," she murmured teasingly, her voice low.
"Can't help it," he whispered, his voice husky now. "You're mine."
His mouth found hers again, slower this time, more deliberate. She tasted like sleep and warmth, and she kissed him back without hesitation, her hands rising to tangle in his hair. Her body shifted beneath him, soft and eager. He rolled her gently onto her back, the kiss deepening as their bodies aligned. Her legs parted instinctively, wrapping around his hips as he let his mouth wander down her neck, across the swell of her breast, lingering where he knew she loved it most.
She moaned, a soft sound that hit him low in the gut. His hand caressed her hip, then her thigh, before slipping between her legs. He found her soaked and ready, a sharp thrill running through him as his fingers slid inside her. Her breath hitched, hips rolling up to meet him.
"Orys," she gasped, trembling beneath his touch.
He pushed the furs aside, exposing her to the cool air of the room. Her skin shivered, gooseflesh rising as he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling gently. His fingers kept their rhythm, steady and sure, and her moans spilled out freely now.
Her hand found his cock, wrapping around him, stroking him slowly, teasingly. He groaned into her breast, voice rough. "Shireen…"
Her hips rose with growing urgency, meeting the thrust of his fingers as her other hand clutched at his shoulder. He could feel her body tightening, ready to find her release.
"Don't stop," she whispered, breathless. "Please, Jon…"
He didn't. He kept his mouth on her breast, his fingers working her with practiced care. Then she cried out, sharp and raw, her thighs trembling as she clenched around him. Her body shook, curling into his as he held her through it, her gasps soft against his neck.
He kissed her cheek, then her lips, slow and tender. She smiled, flushed and glowing. "That's something to wake up, and you always know what I need."
He looked down at her, eyes heavy with want. "I'm not done with you yet, my stag, my dragoness." He growled as he kissed her deeply.
"Then, take me. Fill me with your seed." She commanded as they broke apart. Taking command, she guided him between her legs.
Orys, felt his cock tip against, her entrance. Then he sank into her with a groan, burying himself in her wet heat. Gods, she was tight, every time she felt like coming home. Like the world stilled around them, everything else pushed aside. It wasn't so different from what it was, Yiggrte. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feel of her wrapped around him. Her hands skimmed down his back, nails dragging lightly, and he kissed her deeply. As he took with increased vigor, causing her to moan his name again.
But then she pulled him toward her face, and said between gasps, "Turn me… like before. Like the wolves."
He pulled out of her, his cock slick with her wetness, and both of them groaned at the sudden emptiness. Then she rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her knees, arching her back and lifting her hips for him. Her hair spilled down her shoulders in dark waves, and Orys took a moment to take her in. Shireen was beauty, firm in body, and her ass was something he could admire all day.
Then he ran his hand down her spine, gripped her hips, and align his cock toward her cunt, and pushed into her again.
Shireen moaned, pressing back against him, making him sink deeper inside her. He groaned through his teeth, "Fuck."
She rocked with him, breath hot and broken. One of her hands slid between her legs, fingers circling her pleasure as her body matched his rhythm.
"Orys… gods, don't stop," she cried, her voice shaking.
She was close again, he could feel it. Her cunt was clenching around cock, and her breath caught in her throat. He gripped her tighter and took her harder, faster. Then she shattered with a cry, her back arching as her cunt clamped down hard. Her thighs trembled as she collapsed forward into the furs.
But he didn't stop. Her body was limp beneath him, and he held her in place.
Shireen turned her head, dazed and flushed, her lips parted. "Don't stop, Orys…"
That was all it took.
He gripped her tightly, his thrusts growing faster, rough with need. The pressure coiled fast, sharp, impossible to ignore. She clenched around him, and then his vision blurred.
"Fuck, Shireen," he growled, voice breaking as he slammed into her one final time and came hard, spilling deep inside her. His cock throbbed with every pulse, her body every drop of seed form him dragging every drop from him as he moaned through clenched teeth.
They collapsed together on the bed, breathless, his body still draped over hers. He stayed there a moment, buried deep, both their chest rising and falling.
End Smut
He chuckled under his breath as he came by, from their combined releases, catching "You're going to be the death of me," he said, kissing her neck before slowly rolling off her and onto his back.
She turned toward him and laid her head on his chest. "Well, as you will for me, my legs still feel numb," she murmured softly, kissing him. "I never thought I would have this. I've always been tucked away in Dragonstone. Now I have a husband, and someone I think I'm falling in love with."
"Same for me," he replied, stroking her hair. "I never thought I'd have a wife or be a lord. Let alone a king. Yet here we are, two outcasts now at the top of the ladder, both having found something neither of us expected."
"Orys…" Shireen said softly, looking up at him with those clear blue eyes. "I think… I might be with child."
His eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, excitement rising in his voice.
"I'm two weeks late… so there's a chance." She replied with a shy smile.
He pulled her closer and kissed her brow. "Then we wait another week, and speak with the maester in Deepwood Motte. It's about a week's ride. Then we'll know for sure. I hope you are. I would love it if you were. To become a family… and I know you'll be a great mother. You're already a wonderful person, Shireen."
Shireen muffled a quiet cry, then kissed him. "As you will be a wonderful father."
Clearing near Ironrath.
He and Shireen were escorted by their freefolk guard. Some of the warriors now wore mail made from their own fur, making them appear similar to the Mountain clans. Yet still similar, yet all looked at him and Shireen like they held power, and not only because they rode the dragons, but because they saw them walking out of the flames, and he had been dead for four moons.
Soon enough, Nightwing and Sliverwing appeared from the cave they had found, both carrying one of the younger dragons on their backs. The Freeflok still looked in awe at them, as he did every time he was close to them or Ghost; he felt whole, like he did when he was close to Shireen.
Nightwing approached him well, and Shireen left for Silverwing. Nightwing purred like a cat when he scratched his chin.
"It's good to you, it has been some time since." He added, and the dragon's green-flecked with purple eyes looked at him intently. "Soon, when Winterfell has fallen, and the Boltons are gone, will the world know of you." He vowed.
Rickon Stark
Encampment near Deepwood Mott
Rickon's arm was tiring as he held the shield.
"Remember, little brother, hold the shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell," his big brother said with a grin, as the wooden sword landed another blow.
It had been odd to see Jon again, to be honest. As he looked at his brother, and now thought of his father, he saw Jon. He remembered his father, yet it was fading, and he knew the two resembled each other. Even if they were uncle and nephew.
After the strike, Rickon quickly leapt forward, trying to surprise his brother, and aimed for his shin. But Jon saw it coming, sidestepped, and caused him to lose his balance. He had no time to react before Jon's sword came down and landed on his back, causing him to fall in the snow and mud.
"Yield, little brother," Jon said, feeling the blade at the back of his neck. Rickon nodded and gave out a frustrated sigh.
"How did you act so quick?" he asked, brushing the mud off his clothes.
"Practice. With practice, you learn the skills, build your endurance, and refine your reflexes. It's all well and good if you can slash with a sword or axe, but if you can't see your opponent's blow coming, you'll be dead or wounded either way," Jon explained, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Rickon nodded and looked at his brother gratefully.
"Don't worry. You're only seven. You'll have time to learn, and you have other skills. I've felt them," Jon added with a grin.
Rickon cocked his head at his brother. "What do you mean?"
Jon smiled. "Come with me so we can talk in private." He led him to his tent. Outside, four guards waited, two freefolk and two knights of the Stormlands. He saw the Baratheon stag on their chests.
"Your Grace," both men stated as they arrived.
It was still an odd thing that he and Robb were called kings. Even if Jon had been a prince all his life. Although Rickon didn't truly understand why that had been kept a secret. Only that, if it had come out before, Jon would've been killed by bad people like the Boltons.
As they stepped inside, Jon pulled out a chair for him and let him sit, then poured them a cup of water. "Here, drink," Jon said.
"What did you mean, you felt my other gifts?" Rickon asked eagerly after drinking down the cup.
"Well, I'm sure you've seen some of it with Bran and Summer. Have you ever felt like you were dreaming, and that you were Shaggydog?" Jon replied.
Rickon nodded.
"Well, I've done the same with Ghost, like Bran did with Summer. I felt you when I was hunting with Shaggydog a few days ago," Jon added.
"Oh! I remember, I dreamed I hunted with Ghost, and in the morning when I woke, I tasted the blood of the kill Shaggy and Ghost made." He replied with a grin.
Jon smiled at his words. "You're a warg, like me and Bran. And I have a feeling Sansa, Arya, and Robb were as well."
"I remember Osha talking about skinchangers. That walked in the skins of animals. She discussed it with Bran and had fights with Jojen about whether it was good for him or not. The Skagosi said something similar," Rickon added, grinning. Then he paused and looked at Jon.
"Can you teach me to control it?"
Jon smiled and nodded. "I can. But it will be a long road. I truly learned to control it when the Wall was attacked by the Freefolk. I scouted with Ghost, saw their movements, and overheard some of their plans. It's important that the next time you dream, you accept what's happening and try to reach out. Over time, it'll become easier, and eventually, you'll be able to do it while you're awake.
I have a similar connection to Nightwing, although it's different—I feel him, but I can't control him like Ghost," Jon explained.
"Okay, then I'll try tonight," Rickon replied with hope.
Oh, it would be so cool if I could control my wolf, he thought with a grin.
"Good. But one thing I learned from the Freefolk, don't stay too long with the bond, or you might not return," Jon added.
"Hmm, I remember Jojen said something similar to Bran. Bran also did that with Hodor, he needed him to be quiet, as there were Freefolk hiding below the tower. Bran said he saw you," he added thoughtfully.
"I remember that day. Shaggy and Summer saved me that day, as did Ygritte. I wanted to go after him when I learned from Sam that Bran went beyond the Wall. I still do, even now, even if Sam said it was something Bran needed to do," Jon added wistfully.
Rickon sobbed then, as he remembered Bran.
Jon walked over and hugged him. "Hey, I don't know why, but I feel we'll see him again. He must have felt he needed to go there, and without you. I'm glad he did. Now we're together, and soon Winterfell will be ours again," Jon added, kissing his brow.
"I missed you. I'm glad I'm here with you," Rickon replied through a sob.
"Me too, little brother."
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