#Game of Thrones Season 1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myreygn · 1 year

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Hello! I'd like to request a tickle story with Bran Stark, Rickon Stark and Tommen Baratheon please~

cubs and pups

summary: Tommen doesn't like Winterfell when he first lays eyes on it but quickly finds himself warming up to the place and its people - especially Lord Stark's youngest sons and so he happily agrees when they invite him to play with them. What could possibly go wrong?

an: goddamn that took me way too long... i'm really sorry @proscrix, i hope you like what i came up with! (also please appreciate the title i'm really proud of it 😭)

wordcount: 3266 holy fu-

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There was something very dismal about Winterfell. Tommen couldn't quite put a finger on it but nevertheless, the feeling was there. In the gray of the walls, looming over him in a way that made him feel entrapped, even though he was out in the open; the dull clothes the people, even the Starks wore, designed to keep them warm rather than impress anyone; even in the way the Starks themselves looked at him, a way that made it abundantly clear that they viewed him as a child first and a prince second. Not that he could actually blame them for it, somehow he hadn't realized either that he was supposed to be above them all, but how could he when everyone always looked down on him?

Well, not everyone.

Tommen caught the gaze of the youngest Stark child (Rickon, he believed) who was looking up at him in complete awe. He seemed to be younger by a few years and the prince found himself wondering if maybe they could play together later. Did the northerners play the same games they played in King’s Landing? Would Rickon even want to play with him? He carefully smiled at the boy and felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders when Rickon returned the smile. So far so good.

For now though, there were other things to do. A formal greeting between his father and Lord Stark, then a more informal approach where his father went through all of Lord Stark’s children one after the other and told them how strong and beautiful they were and how they would make great knights and lords and ladies someday. Tommen felt a sting in his chest. If only his father ever told him he was going to be a great knight someday with the same twinkle in his eyes he had when he said it to Brandon. Was that jealousy?

Tommen examined Brandon with narrow eyes. They were probably around the same age, with the other boy being noticeably taller and leaner, his dark hair gave him a much more adventurous appearance than Tommen with his golden locks could ever hope for. He was beaming with pride after receiving the King’s praise and despite the maybe-jealousy still stinging in his chest, the young prince could not for the life of him find it in him to dislike the other boy. He watched as Rickon looked up at Brandon and they exchanged a smile. Brandon was probably also a way better older brother than Joffrey.

Where was Joffrey anyway? Over there, making googly eyes at Lord Stark’s daughter. Fair enough, Tommen thought to himself, she was a true beauty. Maybe, he then thought, one day he could marry a girl just as beautiful, then he saw his mother whisper something into Joffrey’s ear and instinctively knew that whoever he was going to marry someday, it wasn’t going to be a Sansa Stark. No wonder Joffrey never found the time to be a good brother in between learning how to strut around like a rooster and trying to get under the skirts of beautiful girls. Tommen had no idea what it meant to get under someone’s skirt but his uncle Tyrion had said this one day and his other uncle Jaime had given the dwarf a slap in the back of his head and told him “Not in front of the children”, so Tommen had vowed to himself to never forget this sentence until he could understand what it meant. (Also the rooster part was funny, even though he wouldn’t dare to say that out loud to anyone aside from uncle Tyrion.)

A slight push to his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked directly into Myrcella’s slightly concerned eyes. The adults were done with greeting each other and giving compliments to children that weren’t Tommen and the whole group got ready to go inside the castle. He quickly caught up to Myrcella and tried to look for Rickon Stark, but the boy had vanished from his field of vision.

—

Winterfell was much nicer on the inside. Big chimneys and torches on the walls warmed up the great hall and gave it a welcoming feeling. It felt like a place that was a home to someone, not like Casterly Rock which felt more like a place people were forced to visit without any intention of staying longer than absolutely necessary - at least that was how Tommen felt whenever he had to go and see his grandfather Tywin.

Here it was very different though. Even from his place at the table that stood above all the other tables, he felt like a part of the crowd of laughing, drinking and singing northerners. Even stuck between his sister, who was half asleep, and his mother, who was more busy hawk eyeing Sansa Stark than anything, he was having a good time. Well, as good of a time as he could have anyway when everyone around him was getting more and more drunk as the evening dragged on.

He knew that he would be sent to his chambers immediately if he seemed even remotely tired and he didn’t want to leave just yet but at some point he just couldn’t hold the yawns in anymore. Almost immediately, his mother’s gaze was on him - for the first time that night and while that was nice for a change, he dreaded the following words before they even left her mouth: “You should go to bed, it’s quite late.”

Tommen looked around for help, feeling a tad bit hopeful when his gaze met with the understanding eyes of his uncle Jaime. “Oh come on Cersei, it’s a special night. Let the child enjoy it a little longer.”

“It’s way past sundown, Jaime,” his mother responded and something about her tone sent a chill down Tommen’s spine, but his uncle seemed entirely unbothered.

“We’re in the north, it’s always way past sundown.”

“Jaime.”

Silence, then his mother leaned forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, Tommen.” So his uncle had lost, bummer.

When he left the hall he felt Joffrey’s gloating stare in his back. The door closed behind him, then it was only his and Jaime’s steps walking away from the festivities. And the warmth. It was a lot colder out here.

“Sorry about that, lad. I tried to get you some more time.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” He gave his uncle a small smile and was about to reassure him that he had been getting bored anyway when a giggle somewhere down the corridor distracted him from the conversation. Before Jaime could stop him (maybe he wasn’t even trying) he hurried down the corridor to see where the sound came from. He hadn’t seen Rickon and Brandon all night, maybe they were-

“Hello.”

Startled, Tommen’s feet came to a halt abruptly and he nearly lost his balance. Big, blue eyes looked up at him, widening a little in shock.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“Rickon, what are you- oh.” Brandon Stark bowed his head, gesturing at his little brother to do the same. “Your Highness.”

“You don’t have to do that…” Tommen shuffled his feet nervously - he had never been a huge fan of people bowing their heads or getting on their knees before him, it just didn’t feel right. “What… what are you doing?”

“Oh, we were just playing.” Brandon still seemed a little cautious, as if Tommen were to order his execution if he took one simple misstep. It made his chest tighten; what would it take for Brandon to not be nervous around him anymore? How could he show that he had no intention to boss anyone around or-

“Do you want to join us?”

Rickon really had a talent for interrupting his spiraling thoughts and when Tommen looked at him, he was met with a genuinely hopeful expression - a pleasant counterpart to Brandon’s leeriness.

He was about to tell him that he would love to play with them, then he remembered he wasn’t alone and turned around to his uncle. “May I…?”

The corner of Jaime’s mouth twitched so slightly that Tommen was sure he wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t known the man all his life. “Your mother won’t hear it from me. But I’ll be back in an hour and then you will go to bed immediately.”

“Yes, promise!” Barely able to hide his excitement, he turned back to the Stark boys and quickly followed Rickon into the room when the younger boy grabbed his wrist and pulled him with him. Brandon shut the door, then it was only the three of them.

Tommen examined the room. A bed, covered in furs and blankets, a big chimney with a fire spreading warmth and a thick carpet with wooden figurines lying around. He sat down on the floor between the two brothers. “Brandon and Rickon, right?”

“Yes. You can say Bran though.”

It had been a pure courtesy, but Tommen was glad he had asked - it made him happy to be allowed to address Bran by a nickname. Friends did that, right? Did that mean they were friends? A smile spread his lips. “Then you can just say Tommen. What were you playing?”

“Well, we were trying to play tournament, but Rickon won’t share the knight figurines!”

“Because these are mine!”

“But how are we gonna play tournament when I have no knights?!”

“Then that means you lose!”

“That’s not how it works!”

Tommen leaned back when Bran suddenly lunged forward and wrestled Rickon into the carpet, then the younger boy squeaked and started to thrash around. “Braaan!”

Tommen narrowed his eyes. Was Bran- “W-wait, what are you doing?! Leave him alone!”

Rickon stopped laughing when Bran took his fingers off his sides and both of them were looking at him with nearly identical grins. “Why? Would you rather get a taste of this yourself?”

Before the prince could react, Rickon cried out “Charge!” and suddenly they were all over him; Bran held one of his arms in a vice grip and dug his fingers into his armpit, meanwhile Rickon relentlessly squeezed his midsection. A reluctant laugh escaped Tommen’s mouth. This was not good… he had to get out of here or else he’d be stuck here all night… maybe uncle Jaime would even walk in on him crying, just like the Septa did back when it happened in King’s Landing, that would be so embarrassing…

He remembered Joffrey quite literally ambushing him in his chambers in the early morning, jumping up on his bed and pinning him down while tickling him everywhere he could reach. The prodding to his hips, the scribbles all over his ribs and tummy, the squeezes to his sides… yes, he remembered it all too well. He remembered that it had been painful rather than ticklish, remembered how he had screamed louder and louder for Joffrey to let go of him and how his brother had seemed to care less and less by the second, how he had begun to cry only for Joffrey to tell him ‘Don’t be a baby, we’re just having fun’.

Fun. Maybe, he had wondered for a while, Joffrey was right. When the Septa had come into the room and Joffrey had explained that they were just having a little tickle fight, she too had said ‘Why are you crying, Prince Tommen? Tickling is supposed to be fun’. Maybe, he had thought, he was the problem, maybe he just didn’t know how to have fun with tickling and that was the reason so it didn’t work, but then again, Joffrey having fun and Tommen getting hurt (or anyone getting hurt, really) weren’t mutually exclusive situations.

Tommen felt his chest tighten and his own laughter began to sound like that of a stranger. He knew this was supposed to be fun, but he didn’t want this. All he had wanted was to have fun with some potential new friends and now he was gonna be stuck here for hours, getting tortured. Maybe Bran was just as horrible of an older brother as Joffrey then. Tears started to clock up his throat. And then, to his great surprise, the tickling… stopped.

“Tommen? Are you alright?”

Rickon gave him a worried look and Tommen hastily sat up, not wanting to seem weak in front of the Stark boys. “I’m fine…”

“Did we overstep?” Bran looked somewhat mortified at the thought of having upset the prince. “We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… we thought it’d be fun.”

Tommen pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew that this would make him look like a little baby, but honestly, it made him feel better right now and for a moment that was the only thing that mattered. “I just don’t understand… how can it be fun if people get hurt?”

The brothers glanced at each other, confused. “Hurt?” Rickon tilted his head to the side as if the situation would become somehow clearer. “What do you mean, hurt? I mean, I guess it could happen… one time Jon kicked Robb in the chest, but I think that was an accident.”

“What Rickon is trying to say,” Bran chipped in from the side when Tommen opened his mouth to ask what tickling and kicking people in the chest had to do with each other, “is that sometimes you can get hurt when you’re tickling someone and play fighting, but tickling isn’t supposed to hurt.”

“It- it isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t! See, it’s fun.” Bran quickly wiggled his fingers into Rickon’s side and the younger boy let out a bright giggle. “Why would it be supposed to hurt?”

“Well, when Joffrey did it-”

“Joffrey?! Prince Joffrey?! What did he do?!”

Tommen knew very well that the majority of the worry in Bran’s expression probably came from the fact that Joffrey was most likely going to marry his sister, but something about it still made him feel safe. As if the Stark brothers would be on his side, unlike Joffrey, unlike the Septa, and so he told them everything. Rickon was the first to speak up.

“But that is so mean! Why would he do that?!”

“Maybe he is just a mean person.” Bran softly caressed his brother’s hair, seemingly in shock. “But that’s really… I mean, the rules to tickling are unspoken, I suppose, but even so one of the rules is to stop immediately if the other person doesn’t want to be tickled…”

Tommen only wrapped his arms around himself and grasped onto his shirt, just to hold onto something. “Joffrey doesn’t know the rules then.”

“But we know the rules!” Rickon seemed determined to raise the spirit. “Maybe you could let us tickle you, we can show you that it’s fun!”

Bran looked at his brother as if he was about to scold him, then his gaze turned towards the prince instead, rather curiously. “Would you… let us do that?”

Tommen considered his options. He could just say No and they wouldn’t do it. They would respect that he didn’t want it to happen. They could just play something else and he’d be able to avoid this experience - or he could say Yes. If they’d accept his No now, they would also accept it later. Tommen had spent countless nights at the table next to his father, listening to him swoon over how honorable and honest of a man Lord Eddard Stark was and if that same Lord Eddard Stark’s sons claimed there were rules to tickling, he was sure they’d follow those rules at all times.

He nodded carefully. “You can do it… but carefully…”

“Of course!” To say that Rickon was beaming would’ve been an understatement, but Tommen couldn’t think of a better word before the younger boy latched onto his sides, squeezing away.

A giggle slipped out of his mouth and he quickly pressed his arms to his sides. He didn’t want it to stop just yet, wanted to see where it would go, but he couldn’t help it, it just really tickled. It didn’t hurt though. Tommen felt the slightest bit of tension fade away.

“Don’t block us out now!” Bran’s eyes glittered as he wiggled his fingers past Tommen’s arms, scratching at his ribs and making the prince squeak. “How are we supposed to tickle you if you cover up all the good spots?” There was a teasing undertone to his voice that would’ve sounded cruel and mean coming from Joffrey but out of Bran’s mouth it sounded… nice. Like they were having fun.

Tommen let out another giggle. He was having fun. “Buhut it tihickles-”

“Yes, that’s the point!” Rickon laughed and moved from his sides to his tummy. Tommen doubled over with a shriek and the younger boy’s eyes lit up. “Bran, I found a gold spot!”

“Good work, Ser Rickon! The defenses are crumbling!”

“AIHEE- Brahahahan!” Tommen squealed, curling in on himself. It was no use trying to protect his torso; Rickon relentlessly prodded and poked at his tummy and Bran’s fingers had wormed their way up into his armpits. It would probably be smart to try and push him off but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his arms - it just tickled too much. All he could do was lie on the carpet and laugh and it was fun.

“Are you alright?” Rickon grinned widely when the prince nodded. “Good!” He wiggled a finger into his belly button. “Then I can try this!”

“Gahahads, Rickohohon! Nahahat theheheere!” Tommen felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. As much fun as this was- “Ihi cahan’t, I cahahan’t, stahahap! Plehehease!”

Immediately all four hands let go of him and Tommen felt warmth spread in his chest. They stopped. He told them to stop and they did it. So this was why it was supposed to be fun.

Rickon scooted a little closer and tried to catch a glimpse of Tommen’s face. “Are you still alriHIG- hehehehey! Brahahan, nohoho!”

Tommen blinked at the younger boy who was giggling and squirming on the ground, then he looked up at Bran who had his hands buried under Rickon’s arms and grinned back at him. “Do you want to help?”

“Nohoho, dohon’t hehehelp him!”

Tommen hesitated for a moment, then carefully extended his hand to give Rickon’s knee a little scratch when Bran sent an encouraging nod his way. Rickon let out a shriek and tried to pull his leg in but Tommen quickly grabbed his ankle to hold it still. He was getting used to this.

“You know you deserve this, Rickon!” Bran did his best to sound threatening but he couldn’t hide his joking undertone. “That’s what you get when you don’t share your toys!”

“Buhut thehese ahahare mihINEEK! ALRIHIHIGHT I GIHIVE! I GIHIHIVE!”

Tommen watched in fascination as Bran took his fingers off Rickon’s neck and briefly wondered how many times they must have done this for Bran to have such good knowledge on how to get Rickon to give up immediately. He caught himself smiling at the sight of Rickon lunging at Bran with a battle cry and starting to squeeze his sides, drawing an uncharacteristic cackle out of his older brother.

“Come on Tommen, help me! He needs a taste of his own medicine!”

Tommen took Bran’s wrists to pull them up, grinning down at him when he was met with a squeal of betrayal. How he could’ve ever thought about Winterfell as a dismal place was beyond him.

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