battle_born | which is more important? fire or ice (rp/mindless porn for brideoffire)

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which is more important? fire or ice (rp/mindless porn for brideoffire)

"He is a coward and a fool. Why join our tribe to him if he will never take the throne?"

"Because he is in possession of a sword not yet forged. Through this union, you will claim this sword, and you will achieve the destiny you were born for."

That was his father's reasoning when he was told that he would marry the Targaryen woman, but Conan doubted his father's wisdom. If he saw the girl as a weapon, he was wrong: she was small and meek and useless to him...or so he thought before the ceremony. When he offered the traditional gift of a steed, the way her face came alive, voice catching and gaze reverent...

She was still meek and small, but perhaps not useless.

The celebration was a mad one, and Conan took his fill of drink and food by the fire, his new bride by his side. She did not dance or sing, she ate and drank nearly nothing, and seemed frightened by the few drunken brawls that broke out. She was respectful of his father, and every time her brother drew too near, she edged towards him.

If nothing else, he wondered if he might have the opportunity to kill his brother in law. From the way she reacted to him, it seemed clear that this fallen heir to the throne of the kingdom beyond the ocean was worse than a coward and a fool: he was a brute. Slaying him would be a pleasure.

When they were finally relegated to the marriage bed, Conan ushered her into their tent ahead of him, watching the way she trembled, the way tears gathered at the corners of her eyes though she fought not to shed them. She was afraid, but to his greater shock she was strong.

Conan did not touch her at first. He stood, watching, calculating, then finally moved to stand before her, staring at her bowed head until his hand came up to gently catch her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"What reason have I given you to fear me?" he asked simply, quietly, waiting patiently for an answer.

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None of which Viserys could possibly be aware of, or he would have...gods help her, she couldn't fathom what he would have done. She couldn't begin to imagine how furious he would be.

"But why?" she had to ask, cautiously glancing around the tent, only just now really studying her surroundings; she'd been too paralyzed with fear to take it all in before. Daenerys had a very negative view of herself, having been beaten down in both the literal and the metaphorical sense for most of her life. She did not see her own strength, her potential. Why would they want to free her from Viserys?

Conan frowned harder, honestly confused by her confusion. Moving over to her again, he caught her chin until he could meet her gaze, speaking as though to a child.

"He offered you to us like he owned you. No man or woman should live in chains. Every Cimmerian knows this."

It was on the tip of Dany's tongue to ask him how a marriage was anything but a different set of chains. It would have been a fair question in her mind...but she still was not sure how he would respond to such a thing. For a moment she cursed Viserys bitterly for not bothering to learn more about the culture and the people that he was marrying her into. She felt clueless and stupid...and annoyed at being talked down to.

It was enough to bring a defiant flash to her eyes as she raised her chin and turned her head away from his grip. "You don't have to speak to me that way, I am not slow-witted and I am not a child. Viserys and I are the last of our blood. My father is not alive to arrange a marriage for me, so it falls to Viserys."

It was not that she was married that hurt, in truth. It was the way it had been done. But would it have been so different if she'd grown up in Westeros, in King's Landing? She didn't know, but she suspected that it would not have been any different, and deep down, it rankled. A boy was a prince, a lord, a knight, a king; a girl had no value but to be bartered and sold.

Conan smiled a little at her outburst, pleased to see that her will was not completely gone. She was lovely when she was in command of herself...not so meek, and small didn't seem quite so bad.

"We arrange marriages as well, this you have seen." He replied, unfazed. "But we agree to our matches, even our women."

He reached out, laying his hands on her shoulders gently. "You make your own choices now. To marry a Cimmerian is to be strong enough to equal him. And you must know I will ask very little of you." Shaking his head, he smiled a little as he caught a lock of her hair between his fingers.

"I have lite need of a wife, but there is fire in you. It pleases me that I could free you from your brother."

It was the oddest feeling, being unable to decide if she was comforted or not, if she felt better or worse for knowing all of this. Some of the pressure she'd felt ready to splinter beneath lessened and lightened, and yet...she wasn't even his wife, it seemed, but a slave he'd wished to free. Was that an improvement? Gods, she truly could not decide.

But perhaps if given the agency she could make it better. She felt so out of place here in every way, from her size to the glaring contrasts of the culture she knew with the one she was apart of now, but she could at least change the latter. Perhaps then the rest would not matter so much. If she was truly free from Viserys' long threatening shadow, that was more than she'd had hours ago.

She attempted a smile, her lips barely curving, her eyes warming only slightly; she was unsure of what to say, truth be known. Did she thank him? It didn't seem quite right. "If you've little need of a wife, then what do you intend to do with me?" she asked quietly.

His countenance was calm, even gentle as he reached for her face again, this time to caress her cheek with his knuckles. She was small and delicate, but she was fair, and she had fire in her. She was like an untempered sword, waiting for fire and ice to make her unbreakable...

"Whatever you will allow me to." he offered softly. "I would consider it no chore to show you the joys of the marriage bed...nor to show you how greatly it can please a man to watch his woman come undone with sheer ecstasy."

Just an hour ago the very thought would have terrified her. He was just so large, and every inch of him lean and tight and corded with muscle, and it made her feel even smaller and slighter, utterly breakable...yet even through her fear she would have acquiesced, because her fear of her brother was greater.

Yet her fear of her brother was abating, slowly. Looking up into her husband's fascinating face, scarred from battle but displaying nothing but quiet interest, feeling the gentle touch of his hand on her cheek, she felt much less afraid of him as well.

"All right," she said quietly, nodding slowly. She was not a child anymore, and there were some secrets in the world that only a woman could know and understand. The pleasures and duties of the marriage bed was one of those things...and she was curious.

It was a new thing to Conan, that curiosity, quiet and questioning. He knew fear, he knew anger, but that thirst for knowledge was just beyond him. He learned, he educated himself when it was needed, but his desires were simple ones.

He found it flattered her.

"You are far lovelier when you are not afraid. Strength suits you." he observed, making no move to take her just yet. Instead, he cupped her cheek with one big hand, watching her react to his touch. He had never bedded a virgin before, he found the idea appealing...especially in one so afraid. He wanted to seduce her, to watch her learn what she found pleasing, to satisfy that quiet question in her eyes and then render her mindless as he pleasured her.

Just thinking of it made his gut clench with desire.

Strength? Daenerys blinked at him once, her eyebrows lifting as he cradled her cheek in his large, sword-hardened hand. She had never truly thought of herself as strong. Far from it. Most of the time she felt weak, weak and stupid and useless; Viserys made sure of that. Was that all strength was? No longer feeling so scared?

Taking a slow breath, she reached up and laid her hand lightly over the back of his...it was a pleasant touch, yes, but what truly made her stomach twist was the way he was looking at her. He seemed to be studying her in the same speculative way she was studying him. She didn't know why, but she liked it.

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand from his and let her palm rest lightly against his chest, laying her hand over warm flesh and hard muscle. Gods be good, was there a part of him that wasn't hard, or that hasn't been touched by battle?

She didn't answer his remark, but she did touch him...hesitantly, first the back of his hand, and then...

It shouldn't have affected him so deeply, but that questing brush of her fingers, the way her hand fit so well to that swell of muscle...the look on her face, it all combined to make his flesh burn beneath her fingers and his breath catch in surprise as she touched him. Catching her elbow with his free hand, he drew her gently against him, his other hand sliding to cup the nape of her neck, still gentle but firm as he leaned in, giving her a chance to draw away, and captured her mouth with his.

It was the first time that anyone had kissed her, and Daenerys hadn't a clue what to do. Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise, and she did tense up, but only for a moment. Bit by bit her body sank into it, because it felt natural, it felt entirely pleasant and right to angle her head, tilt it slightly one way to fit her mouth against his. She tasted woodsmoke on his lips, tasted a hint of alcohol on his breath, and discovered to immense shock that she liked the combination.

Another knot in her stomach loosened; wouldn't it be so much better, so much easier if bedding her husband was not a duty or a hardship or something that must be suffered through, but something she enjoyed? She would not have thought this possible, just hours ago, and yet...

More than curiosity motivated her now, as she laid her other hand against his chest, then slid one up to touch his neck, fitting her hand against the base of his skull as his was curled at hers. That was nice...he was so much larger than her, but with him bending and her raised up on her toes as far as she could go, it made for a nice fit.

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