[BONUS] Coming Home Pt. 2 (Skyrim/GoT) (Patreon)

I actually tried to do something akin to a deep and meaningful sex scene here, rather than just smut. Let me know how I did on that I suppose. I figure I gave it a good try but my smut writing probably affected it anyways.

-x-X-x- 

There was a knock at her door. Sansa Stark continued to brush her long, fiery red hair as she called out.

“Yes?”

A guard’s voice answered her.

“Milady, the honored guest Dovahkiin has requested an audience. Shall I turn him away?”

Sansa pressed her full, pouty lips together tightly, until they were white instead of their usual vibrant pink. She looked at herself in the mirror and made sure her face was as bereft of expression as possibly, composing her features into a proper emotionless gaze. All the while, her heart beat rapidly within her breast and to her embarrassment; she grew slightly wet betwixt her thighs.

“… Let him in.”

There’s a note of worry in the guard’s voice when he responds.

“Milady?”

While Sansa does not believe this specific guard was at the meeting where all present got a demonstration of Aegon Targaryen’s power, she assumes word has already begun to spread. It amuses her to think how such fantastical facts could possibly already be embellished. Rather than being untouchable and capable of magic, perhaps the young Targaryen was now fire breathing and capable of outright flight. Letting out a sigh, Sansa stood from where she sat and turned to the door, her hands folded together in front of her as she called out in a more commanding tone.

“I said let him in. I will be fine.”

There’s a pause but the door opens and the Targaryen is admitted. Sansa’s breath hitches and her heart skips a beat before she’s able to properly control herself at the sight of him. Aegon is no longer wearing his menacing and foreboding armor, leaving him dressed down to a tunic, a pair of trousers, and boots. His figure is on full display and oh what a figure the young man cuts. Aegon Targaryen is gorgeous in every sense of the word, his features that of three hundred years of Westerosi ruling class, but his body was also fit and musclebound, his arms bulging beneath the ill-fitting tunic and his chest nearly bursting out of the thing.

Sansa belatedly realizes she’s staring and glances back up to meet the young man’s vibrant purple eyes. She finds mirth in his gaze and knows immediately that she’s been caught. The woman does not allow herself to blush though, keeping her composure as she steps forward and lifts a brow questioningly.

“Yes? What is it?”

Aegon’s eyes stay fixed on her face, but even so she can see the way he’s studying her features. His gaze trails over her lips and nose and cheeks before he finally looks at her directly.

“Apologies my lady. That is what brings me to you. I could not help notice that while I was treating with your brother, you were petrified with fear by my appearance. It was not my intention to bring terror to a visage of beauty such as yourself. I wished to say sorry, as well as to show you I am not quite so frightening or intimidating when in a more relaxed setting.”

Sansa presses her lips together as she stares at the Targaryen for a long moment of silence. Finally, she answers him; once she’s sure her voice will not crack and give her away.”

“I was not petrified with fear. You did not scare me, Aegon Targaryen, not with my brother and a hall full of his bannermen right there surrounding you. I was merely… surprised.”

It was a half-truth, but then as Baelish had taught her, half-truths were the best kinds of truth, while also being the best kinds of lies. Point being, she had not been petrified with fear and she had in fact been surprised. But there was more than that. Sansa had not stared at Aegon in wide eyed silence out of terror; she had done so because of a roaring, raging hunger that coursed through her the moment he had shown his face. It had only gotten worse when he had then shown his strength.

Ultimately, Sansa Stark had it bad for the Targaryen before her. But she was also the woman that the last several years had molded her into. She could not simply become a blushing maiden with a crush around this man. It was no longer in her nature to do so. Yet, despite knowing that she was still outwardly emotionless, she thought she saw knowledge of all that she’d just thought in Aegon’s gaze as he smirked at her. It was like he knew exactly what she’d truly been feeling in the hall and was merely using the pretense of worrying over her fear to speak with her.

The young man took a step closer to her, his smile sly and beguiling, roguish yet in a way that made Sansa grow even wetter, much to her annoyance.

“That is good to hear my Lady. I’ve been told I can be intimidating and imposing by many a woman before you. Yet, it is never my intention to intimidate.”

“And is it your intention to impose?”

The words, sharp and unyielding, come out of Sansa’s mouth before she can stop them. Regardless of her tone, she realizes with some minor dismay that she’s being drawn into a flirtatious game with the Targaryen before her. Minor, because the rest of her is currently enjoying herself too damn much to truly be that overwrought about it.

Aegon’s smile grows wider and he takes another step closer to her, staring down into her vivid blue irises with his own striking, vibrant purples.

“I never impose on a woman who does not wish for it, let alone a lady.”

Sansa can’t help herself. She knows she does not love this man before her, and yet for some reason she can’t help but desire him.

“And if the lady wishes to be imposed upon?”

Her tone is slightly breathless and if Sansa has any one complaint that would be it. She wishes she could stay completely composed for this exchange, maintaining an ironclad, uncaring façade throughout. She cannot. Aegon Targaryen has aroused her and she finds her blood boils at the thought of kissing him. His very kissable lips curl into a slightly wider smile and then close in as he steps into her personal space. Their faces are only inches apart now.

“Well, I’ve never been very good at denying a lady, my Lady San-mmph!”

In the end, it was the wolf that made the first move, even as the dragon looked ready to eat her right up. Sansa Stark lunged forward and planted her lips firmly on that of the Targaryen man in front of her. She kissed him heatedly, a wet smacking sound that only got louder when he slowly wrapped his arms around her and joined the fun. As she’d thought, Aegon was an exceptionally good kisser. The two made out for several long minutes and despite her cold exterior, Sansa found herself melting in the Targaryen’s warm embrace all the same.

She was close to something when Aegon finally pulled back and smiled at her.

“I would do more than just kiss you my lady… if you would allow it.”

Would she? More importantly, should she? Sansa knew the answer to both of those questions and they were not aligned with one another. In the end, the Stark girl gave up on what she should do; tossing aside all of Baelish’s whisperings on how to properly play the game that were always going in the back of her head. She didn’t want to play the game right now. She didn’t want to consider her position or his. She didn’t want to focus on their names and the histories of their two houses.

In this instant, as Sansa discarded her furs and then undid the clasps on her heavy, utilitarian dress, she was but a woman and he, but a man. His eyes feasted upon her beauty as she dropped the dress to the floor and her smallclothes soon followed. Sansa stood before the hungry draconic man in front of her and held her chin high. There was no shame or remorse. There was no attempt to hide herself from his gaze.

Laid bare, all Sansa could do was wait for his reaction. She expected something akin to what she’d done if she was being honest. Sansa knew her beauty quite well at this point. She knew her desirability. So, it wasn’t much of a stretch for the young woman to assume that Aegon would drop his pants, reveal his cock, and take her to bed. They would fuck and it would be exactly what she needed.

He did not do this though, at least not at first. He walked to her without stripping down and took her face in his hands, his calloused palms running across her soft, smooth cheeks as he kissed her. She moved to grab the drawstring of his trousers herself, but he preempted her, guiding her gently, yet firmly to the bed, pushing her back so her upper half was laid out on it and her legs were dangling off the side.

Then, as she looked down the slope of her body at him, the Targaryen man did the strangest thing. He descended to his knees right there in front of her, almost as if in supplication. His hands came up and grasped at the flesh under her, where her thighs met her buttocks. He spread her legs wide and pulled her close and only belatedly did Sansa realize his intentions.

The she wolf was not at all prepared for this. Her beautiful blue eyes widened and her flaming mane of red hair flew back with her head as her lips parted. A breathless moan left her mouth after feeling Aegon’s tongue on her mound. He worked his way up and down her slit with what was obviously clear experience. He focused on her clit, the tip of his tongue diddling the small nub in a way that caused her body to undulate, her breasts jiggling as she moaned all the louder.

Realizing that the guard may still be outside her door, Sansa clasped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she looked to it. But there was no one coming in and Aegon did not pause for even a moment. Sansa Stark whimpered as his tongue dug deep inside of her cunt. The flexible muscle wriggled and writhed within her and it was heaven incarnate. How had she never known this pleasure before? How was this not a thing across Westeros, civilized as the continent claimed to be?

Sansa’s free hand fisted into Aegon’s silver-blonde hair and she made to grind the young man’s face deeper in between her thighs, biting down on the hand covering her mouth now to stifle her cries. If the noblewomen of Westeros knew that men were capable of this, would they not have overthrown the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms decades ago, turning them all into their pleasure slaves so that this was the sole purpose they were to be used for?

Her orgasm hit and she saw stars. Her eyes widened and her body shook as her hand fell from her mouth. However, before her loud cries could echo through the room and give their little game away, Aegon’s large, calloused hand was atop it. Sansa’s eyes widened as the young man looked at her with a smile, his mouth covered in her juices. His fingers were inside of her now as she clenched down rapidly around them. He was bent over her and abruptly, Sansa felt small, oh so small.

The wolf had been seduced by the dragon, but surely she wasn’t so easily tamed? It took a moment, but Sansa managed to find her equilibrium again, as Aegon removed his fingers and the pleasure faded. Assessing the situation, the Stark girl confirmed that she still did not actually love the young man before her. She loved what he could do with his tongue, that was for sure, but this was still nothing but stress relief.

And oh what a stress reliever she’d found. Aegon had pushed his pants down his legs and finally revealed his cock. Sansa stared at it down the slope of her nubile, pale young form, blue eyes wide as she looked upon the dragon’s length and was left more than a little intimidated. Despite herself, the red head could not help but compare Aegon to the only other man she’d ever had sex with. There was a vicious sense of satisfaction in the realization that Ramsay was smaller, mixed with dread as she remembered the pain of her wedding night with the insane bastard. If that had felt like that, would this not split her in half?

Something of her growing concern must have shown in her face, because Aegon paused only inches from inserting himself inside of her wet and waiting pussy. He placed a hand on her cheek and caught her attention, drawing her from a spiral of fear and remembrance. Sansa had almost been back there, lost in her memories, but abruptly she is looking up into vibrant violet eyes at the most gorgeous, handsome man she’s ever seen.

“My lady?”

His concern is genuine as far as Sansa can tell and as a result, twice as gratifying. Swallowing down her dread, Sansa bites her lower lip, wishing that she could go back to being emotionless and in control, but knowing that time is far past. And despite it all, she still wants this. Her burning loins will not allow her to back out now, even if Aegon would probably stand down immediately if she asked him to.

“Just… go slow, please.”

Another pause as something unreadable passes through the Targaryen man’s gaze. Then he nods and guides himself to her entrance. His tongue has done much of the work for him, even as he fits the massive head of his member inside of her pussy lips and then slowly yet inexorably begins to push. It takes time, because he takes his time, fulfilling Sansa’s plea and pushing into her inch by inch as gently as possible.

The Stark girl’s breath hitches as she feels it all, her eyes going wide even as her lower lips are stretched around his girth. He slides inside of her and her inner walls welcome him, clutching and clinging to him, rather than trying to push him out, as they’d tried and failed to do with Ramsay. Aegon Targaryen’s cock feels surprisingly at home inside of her. Sansa can’t help but wonder if this is what all sex is meant to be like, if this is what she missed out on due to a life filled with bastards and noblemen who acted like bastards.

If those in power had been as gentle yet unyielding as Aegon Targaryen, would the continent be where it is now? Aegon slides out of her, only to push back in a bit faster. Sansa can no longer think about hypotheticals as he does this, a loud gasp of shock and pleasure leaving her pouty full lips. A moment later, Aegon is kissing her, muffling her cries and moans as she squirms beneath him.

The dragon is fucking the wolf, but the wolf is not at all forced. In fact, Sansa was enjoying it from the very beginning, his tonguing of her cunt only making it easier for her passage to accept his massive shaft as it had. Now Aegon made love to her, far more tenderly than she’d expected of a man like him. He was kind and attentive and only now did Sansa truly think she might be in danger of falling for him.

Looking back to her earlier thoughts, the red head could not see why perhaps the women of Westeros had not risen up and turned the great Lords and Knights into their pleasure slaves. There was something equally enjoyable, if not more so, about being fucked on one’s back by a well-hung stud who knew what he was doing. Sansa gasped into Aegon’s mouth and came around his cock, her pussy walls tightening up and her breasts shaking as her body spasmed beneath him.

That would be far from the last though. The next thing Sansa learned was just how much stamina the dragon had. Aegon fucked her for what felt like hours, but the only way that she had to mark passage of time was counting her orgasms. In the end, Sansa lost track at around eleven, too sensitive and too delirious to continue counting. And in the end, when Aegon finally came, she was far too tired to even make note of the fact that he’d filled her womb with his hot seed. Rather, she enjoyed the sensation of being filled by such a masterful performer, crying out into his lips one final time as she felt him paint her walls white.

Aegon pulled out of her and the next thing she knew, she was being tucked into bed. Sansa fell asleep, unable to keep her eyes open as the soft furs and sheets swaddled her. When she woke next, hours later, she was still naked. Aegon was nowhere to be found. That was… good. It was good. Because of course, this was just a one time thing. Sansa had no desire to start a romance right now. She had no intentions of marrying the strange Targaryen from another world.

She… she slowly slid her hand back under the furs to between her thighs, running her fingers over her moistening pussy and whining slightly as she began to touch herself to the memories of what she and the Targaryen man had done.

-x-X-x-

“The King in the North MUST stay in the North!”

They were in Winterfell’s hall again. Jon was beginning to dread these meetings with his bannermen, even if he knew how crucial they were. There was still no joy in trying to convince a hundred different personalities, some of which were quite volatile, to see one’s point of view when they were so stuck on their own. That last line had come from Lady Lyanna Mormont of all people though, the pintsized female fighter sounding quite final in her speech.

Considering how much of the hall was agreeing with her, as well as the objections of Lords Royce and Glover, Jon knew he was in for a long hard fight to convince his vassals that this was the right call.

“Dragonstone sits on a vein of dragonglass. This information not only comes from Samwell Tarly, it comes from the Citadel itself. I trust the first with my life. We all trust the latter with our history. The path forward is clear, Lords, Ladies. We MUST have the dragonglass. More than that though, we need the Targaryen Queen and her forces if we’re going to stop the Army of the Dead.”

“Bah! The Targaryen woman cannot be trusted! Targaryens, as a general rule, cannot be trusted! This is a trap your grace and I did not pledge my loyalty to another King in the North just to see you go south! Your father and brother went south as well! Starks do not fare well in the south my King, please!”

The impassioned nature of the plea from Lord Glover makes it all the harder to argue with him. The older man is experienced in a way Jon knows he is not. And Robett isn’t wrong either. His words are fact. There is a clamor around the hall as more of Jon’s bannermen step in to agree with him. Jon lets out a put upon sigh and glances to his sister to see her reaction. As if waiting for his attention to fall on her, Sansa stands up and adds her opinion to the mix.

“You shouldn’t go Jon. They’re right; your place is here, in Winterfell. The King in the North belongs in the North. Besides, we don’t need the Dragon Queen. We have the Dovahkiin now. Aegon has agreed to take on your task.”

“Quest actually, but yes, I’m still on board! Night King, army of draugr, existential threat to all life on Westeros! Sounds like a fantastic romp in the snow!”

Gazes turn to the once more armored ‘dragonborn’. Some roll their eyes at his exuberance while some gain confidence from his arrogance. Jon is one of the former. The Targaryen had seemed… relatively normal at first. But he’d gotten stranger and stranger as time went on. The first clue that something was off had come when Jon had finished explaining the threat coming for them from beyond the wall. Aegon had nodded seriously and told Jon he accepted this most dire quest.

Then, the armored man had looked off in a random direction, his gaze turning distant. After a moment, he’d whistled lowly.

“Damn, that quest marker is actually really far away. And sheesh, a bonus objective to kill ten thousand undead singlehandedly? Well, I do love a challenge. Still, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait a little while and do some side quests around here before I get on that. From what you tell me, if we wait long enough it’ll come to us won’t it?”

Jon had let it slide, assuming he just wasn’t understanding the foreigner. But it had only gotten weirder since then, in a dozen small ways. And then there was Sansa and Aegon. Back in the present, Jon felt himself growing a bit wary of the way Sansa was regarding the armored Targaryen. Aegon’s smile was fixed as he looked at Jon, but it felt like the man was glancing to Jon’s left every once in a while.

Still, there was a way to fix that, before dragon and wolf got any closer to one another. (Oh if only Jon knew.)

“I am taking the Dovahkiin with me to Dragonstone. Together we will either persuade Daenerys Stormborn of the threat we all face, or we will at least secure the dragonglass for transport North.”

Sansa’s eyes widen dramatically and his sister looks shocked, even as the hall erupts into voices. Jon stays silent, letting the clamor die down. At the very least, Aegon looks interested, a glint in his eyes betraying his impatience. The self-described wanderer had been cooped up in Winterfell for weeks now after all.

“You would bring two Targaryens together and place yourself at their mercy, with your army and your lands leagues away? My King, please reconsider this folly!”

It didn’t matter who said it, because the wave of agreement was nearly overwhelming. Abruptly, Jon felt old beyond his years and tired beyond measure. Did his people truly not understand? Without dragonglass, hell without the Targaryen Queen’s armies and dragons, the North was doomed. They did not have the people to hold the Army of the Dead back if the Wall failed them. And deep in his heart, Jon knew that the Wall would fail them. It was a matter of when, not if in his mind.

As he gathered his thoughts and prepared to convince his bannermen once again of a crazy scheme that none of them agreed with, Jon’s eyes actually fell upon Aegon and he stopped short. Rather than give yet another speech, Jon decided he would see what his newest source of advice had to say.

“And you, Dovahkiin. What would you have me do?”

There’s a bit of outrage at that, northerners getting vocally disgruntled as their King turns to what many of them still see as a foreign invader. Jon lifts his hands up though, silencing the crowd. Only when they are mostly quiet does Aegon stand and speak, looking around briefly and then focusing back on Jon.

“Well your grace, I have to say, you are the most active ruler I have ever met. The Jarls and Kings and Queens that I worked for back in Skyrim… they were all lazy. I mean, I’m sure they did other things when I wasn’t around, but as far as I know they never even left their castles! Every time I met with one of them, they were sat upon their throne or their high back chair or whatever it was they sat in, and they were all happy to send me across the continent, back and forth to do what they wouldn’t.”

Aegon pauses, the hall now silent as everyone listens to the handsome man speak, his voice rich and deep in a way that was pleasant to the ear.

“Simply put, while it is quite nice to think that such a pattern might change with you, I have grown used to it. As such, send me on this Quest and remain here to govern your people justly and rightly. I shall return with the dragonglass and if possible, this Dragon Queen’s support for our war with the undead as well.”

There is a moment of silence and then it is broken by sounds of agreement, rising in volume, from all over the hall. It is clear what his bannermen desire. Looking to his sister, it is clear that Sansa is upset; her lips pressed tightly together as she stares daggers at the Dovahkiin. More than anything else, that’s what seals the deal for Jon. He hates to see his sister upset, but he hates to see her mooning over the Targaryen man even more.

“Very well.”

Sansa’s gaze is now on him, burning a hole through the side of his head as he agrees to the Dovahkiin’s suggestion.

“You will go to Dragonstone for me and you will acquire all the dragonglass that you can carry. Davos Seaworth, you will escort the Dovahkiin to Dragonstone and act as my direct emissary to this Dragon Queen. May good fortune follow you both.”

Davos startles at being addressed but stands all the same, bowing low and acquiescing without a single word of protest. It’s Aegon that reacts strangely, a wide smile across his face as he spins around and looks off into the distance.

“The marker is closer this time, though not by much. Still, now that I’ve been to Winterfell, I’m sure I can get back in time for the Main Quest when necessary. This Side Quest will be a fun bit of distraction in the main time. I’ll even get to meet my aunt I suppose.”

Spinning back around, Aegon bows to a nonplussed King in the North and then to Sansa as well as the two stare at him. The self-proclaimed dragonborn is grinning from ear to ear as he does so.

“Your Grace. Lady Sansa. I will return soon with the dragonglass.”

And then he left, just like that. Northerners parted for him like a sea and Davos had to run to catch up as the armored Targaryen man pushed through the doors of the hall, out into the cold… and then promptly took off in a sprint towards the main gates. Jon watched on, bemused as Davos let out a curse and then disappeared out the doors after him.

It… rankled slightly, to be stuck here in Winterfell. He was not used to being a King. He was not used to being anything but a bastard or a crow. An adventure had sounded like fun, in the farthest corners of Jon’s mind. And now he would be going nowhere. The only one more unhappy about this turn of events than Jon was Littlefinger. Lord Petyr Baelish stood by the wall, no smile to be found on his face. 

Having the King in the North travel to Dragonstone would have been quite nice for his plans and knowing how stubborn the bastard of Ned Stark was, Petyr was sure that Jon had made up his mind and would not be dissuaded from his course. Unfortunately, now he had been. And with the King in the North remaining IN the North, Baelish’s manipulations would have to proceed far more slowly than he’d have liked.

Unfortunate, but when one played the game of thrones, one had to learn patience. He’d waited this long. A while longer would not matter much.