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rise-my-angel · 1 year

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Heart of the Great Wolf

4 - Standing Behind a Betrayal

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 13.5k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, bodily injury, implied reference to sexual assault, implied reference to child murder, character death, mild description of gory wounds, blood and violence, imprisonment, talk of execution, slow burn, slight canon divergence

Notes: We won't be in Kings Landing forever but the action safe to say is about to pick up. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

So much had to be left out, the bare bones of what occurred was the only thing you could risk sending to Winterfell. You had sat in his office writing to Robb about the incident in the street, but your eyes had routinely drifted to the tome still sat on the desk. It wasn’t just Jaime Lannister that bothered you, it was everything here. This city, the mystery, and how left in the dark you were despite the whispers all around you.

While investigating one thing, another issue had come to Eddard Stark’s feet before him leaving him weak, injured, and asleep in bed as you leaned back in the chair. Many times you’d look at him, then eye the book and distract from something else. More then once you looked over the words you’d read many times, descriptions of the Baratheon family which all looked and sounded the same. What had been in here that Jon Arryn was looking for, why did King Robert’s bastard children have something to do with it?

That last time, your eyes had drifted to the passage of his true born children, their golden heads did little to describe what an atrocity the eldest was. The passage stuck out to you, it did that night as you slept, and even louder in your mind as you went that next morning to confront Renly.

“I don’t see why you care so much, you think what the realm needs is one more monarch screeching about taking the throne?” You had whipped around at him, your eyes wide and lips parted in surprise when he seemed to notice the mistake.

Opening and closing his mouth, he failed to back up in time before you jumped. “One more?” As he looked away, you took a step forward and still he refused to meet your eye. “There’s no justice in punishing for a crime they haven’t committed, you know that.”

Swallowing, Renly had shrugged without committing much to the beleivability of his casualness. It was a mask that he was getting worse at playing every day it felt. “There are still people who think Roberts a usurper.” He was avoiding his own casualness in his support of murdering the remaining Targaeyans.

Looking to the side with a slight eye roll, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Yes, his name is Viserys Targaryean and he is half way across the world, Renly. Even if he managed to land here who is going to support him? How down trodden do you think the people are that they would welcome the son of the mad king in with open arms after over twenty years of Robert keeping the peace?”

The way he looked at you hit something that was unsettling. It was the eyes you’d seen in all three of the elder brothers, it was the face that was a mirror to the one you had seen in the boy, Gendry. It was the hair that all of you held, the hair on Shireen you’d sit behind her and carefully brush out in the early mornings.

His words were tough, forced out through a somewhat clenched jaw. “Think, my dear niece. Which one of us is really the one who doesn’t belong?” He at that moment expected no answer, immediately moving around the room to change subjects. “Anyways, there’s no chance you could go speak to him and convince him to not bring me hunting?”

Leaning against the wall, you shrugged. “I don’t see what about it has you complaining so much.”

Huffing, he turned to you with an incredulous look. “You’ve never hunted with Robert. I’m in for two weeks at the bare minimum of being dragged across the kingswood as he drinks, boasts endlessly about his own kills while he complains that I haven’t done enough myself.”

“By enough, you mean any?” He glared at your smirking face. “It’s hunting, Renly he’s not shipping you off the war.”

Gathering his things, he passed you by. “I’d take war over Roberts boars and hunting whores any day, or is it the other way around?” Securing the leather around his chest he looked at you with a sigh. “So, do I look the part?”

Narrowing your eyes, you barley looked him over. “One hunting trip won’t kill you, stop complaining and go already.” Leaving with him as he closed his door, you two walked down the halls towards the King’s own quarters. Renly fussing over the attire all the way, you were not truly sure if it was hunting in general he wasn’t pleased do be doing, or if it was just the fact that he was doing it with Robert.

Not that he would be pleased with joining your father either. Where Renly preferred luxury, and Robert preferred loud and charging, your father’s hunts were out of necessity. Find food, move quiet and be silent. No hunting party, no drinks not that of water, and wasting no time in trying to kill such big game for glory. There was no great feast for just that of the hunt either, spending more luxury just to celebrate a clean kill was to waste it on those who didn’t need it.

Considering the state of Flea Bottom, King Robert certainly was hunting just to find any glory in his rage rather then for practicality. You had hunted before, but certainly not with the King and you could sympathize with how little the idea appealed to you.

Coming upon the hallway, you nodded towards Ser Barristan, standing straight and at the ready as he greeted the ever growing morose Renly. He walked in first, being accosted by his brother loudly about no other way to prove your salt as a man.

Ser Barristan stepping forward, a small smile on your lips as he greeted you. “Do you know how long his grace intends to be out there?” Saying he didn’t, you sighed as shoulders deflated a bit. Voice lowering as you stepped forward. “I’m not sure who he’s trying to take his anger out on with this trip, the Targaryean girl or Lord Stark.”

Tilting his head as one side of his mouth raised slightly, he lowered his head closer to yours. “His Grace has a misguided tendency to focus on the wrong things when things get heated.” You both glanced at the door, hearing something between the King and his squire causing Ser Barristan to pull you a step away with a hand on your upper arm. “Forgive me, my Lady but I sense something else is wrong.”

Arms crossing, you closed your eyes only for as long as you exhaled the increasing race of your heart before standing straight. “I shouldn’t say but,” Looking up, you saw the gentle expression of a man who has never shown even an inkling of the kind of darkness looming in this city. He was a man of honour, and yet unlike Lord Stark this one seemed to have stood the test and remained untouched and as confident as ever. “I’ve known you since I was a girl, and I know you care about the King.”

His smile growing more as it did fond, “I remember his grace hearing the news of your birth. It wasn’t long after he and the Queen lost their first boy. Lord Arryn had to talk him down from jumping on a ship to go to Dragonstone that same day.” They rarely spoke of that first boy, a little black haired boy that fell sick and passed before he had even spoken his first word. “Losing that boy, and having his brother soon after have a healthy baby girl of his own. I think the King saw you as something that could’ve been.”

The King had visited Dragonstone much later before you had been moved with your father to Kings Landing. A strong memory of who at that time, was just Uncle Robert. Your father instilling manners had yet to fully sink in, and that was worsened by the much lighter both in set in mind King. He was still lean enough to snatch you up and fling you around in his arms.

The loud and furious yell having echoed in the small council chamber in those days was only that of playful growling and yelling as he pretended your three year old self was just too strong for him. You had pulled him and Ser Barristan around the cliffs of your home that first day for hours. Talking about this place as if it were the most fascinating place you’d ever seen. When Robert was attending things with his brother, you were left with Ser Barristan.

Even now, two decades later you still could recall the Honourable Knight reaching down and hoisting you in his arms, holding you up so you could look at the sea from a high point. You had gotten sad, saying that you hated your family being so far away. One Uncle in Kings Landing, the other Uncle in Storms End you only had your father and mother at that point. You asked if he ever missed the people he loves, and he smiled. Telling you that he had loved many, even had women who he would’ve loved to marry and be like your family. He had simply told you he is bound by honour to his duty, and that “Love is the death of duty, my little lady.”

Now though, older and more calm in his post you looked at him and hoped that he found solace in such a thought. Your duty wasn’t to pry, it was to listen and obey commands but yet you stood here thinking of those you loved. The King was not a man you recognized anymore, but he once was the Uncle you loved. “I know I likely don’t have to tell this to you, but he’s a danger to himself when he’s like this. He can’t push himself the way he used too, and I think he forgets that.”

Nodding once, his voice was low. “There’s something else you’re not saying.”

Your resolve broke a bit, the genuine concern and care in his face much like that of Lord Stark’s made the information feel like it should be shared. But it had painted a target on three people’s backs so far, one of which is dead, the other left with an injury and forced to remain in the very position he had willingly walked away from. How long would you remain unscathed, how long would anyone else should you be selfish enough to bring them into it?

You both glanced at the open door as the three inside came out. The King followed by a still childishly grumbling Renly, and Lancel Lannister who was as on edge as you’d ever seen him. His long blonde hair swishing as he rushed to keep up. You nodded at Ser Barristan, then at the King who seemed to pause looking at you.

Still, you didn’t recognize him and the little girl by the cliffs once again wished she could have a normal family all together like the smallfolk on the island she had once lived on.

Lord Stark was to act in the King’s place while he was hunting, and it did not miss your notice how he looked so unsuited to that of the Iron Throne, while yet his words, voice, and his very presence in the room felt like a commanding respect that had long not been seen. Lord Baelish sat at one side, his book of increasing debt in his lap to be scribbled away at, normally beside him would be Renly now a seat empty.

On the other sat you, then Lord Varys, then Grand Maester Pycelle all looking out to the people who had travelled all this way to make a plea for help in one matter or the other. Beyond them, was a crowd of guards, knights, a various of lords and dutiful watchers to the side watching the court play out as if it were a spectacle. A spectacle however, was not what you think the farmer before the Lord Hand wanted as he voice croaked and warbled.

“They burned most everything in the Riverlands. Our fields, our granaries, our homes.” The others who had came with looked down to the floor, sullen and broken in spirit. Your eyes sharp and face one could mistaken for an expression of anger, in lieu of the suspicions that wracked your mind. “They took out women, and they took ‘em again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals.”

Why were you seeing blonde hair against dark browns and blacks?

“They covered out children in pitch, and lit them on fire.” The man before the court was trying his best not to cry and you felt a boil inside of you at the dismissive tone to your left of Grand Maester Pycelle, dismissing it as nothing more then the act of brigands.

The farmer spoke louder, an insistence in his voice. “They weren’t thieves, they didn’t steal nothing. They even left something behind, your grace.” Once more, Pycelle sounded on the air of board and uncaring as he corrected the man for using the wrong title.

As he did so, one of the farmers stepped forward, emptying a sack out onto the floor and the sight was that of slimy, reddish fish. Your eyes narrowed as the court murmured and whispered around. Lord Baelish speaking up, “Fish. The sigil of House Tully.” You could hear him lean towards Lord Stark in a whisper that came off as purposely condescending. “Isn’t that your wife’s house, Tully? My Lord Hand?”

Not looking nor addressing him, Lord Stark kept his attention on the farmer. “These men, were they flying a sigil? A banner?”

Shaking his head, “None, your...Hand.” He paused and seemed, distressed, that like when describing the horrors inflicted on his village. “The one who was leading them, taller by a foot then any man I’ve ever met. Saw him cut the blacksmiths son in two, saw him cut the head of a horse with a single swing of his sword.”

That was a sight most in this court had seen first hand, a man so large one would think he had that of giant’s blood if not knowing better. A man who sliced his horse’s head clean off before throwing his sword into the shield of Ser Loras Tyrell.

“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.”

Pycelle arguing why would such a man commit atrocities while being appointed as a Knight. Your heart feeling unsteady thinking of what the King had commanded his own men to organize in murder of an unborn child. Leading you right down a path to the very Knight in question and the whispers of the unrecognizable state of Aegon Targaryean once the murdered infant was presented to the Lannisters.

Lord Baelish spoke, “I’ve heard him called Tywin Lannister’s mad dog. I’m sure you have as well.”

Pycelle spoke slow, trying to work through the scenario. “If the Lannisters were to order attacks on villages under the Kings protection, it would be..”

Staring forward your voice rung loud in the quiet room. “That would be as likely as them attacking the Hand of the King in the streets of the captiol.” Pycelle mumbled to himself, and for just a moment you and Lord Stark shared a look. You both could feel the growing tension the Lannisters seemed to be involving themselves in. Ser Gregor was not a man smart enough to come up with using fish as a message to send on his own, no that was of strategy something which laid with someone higher.

Lord Stark looked back to the people, your eyes left to meet the unchanged cockiness of Lord Baelish before you peeled them back to that of the court. Lord Stark’s voice was full of a sympathy that felt as real as it sounded. “I cannot give you back your homes, or restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you justice, in the name of our King. Robert.”

Calling forth Lord Beric Dondarrion, he commanded the assembly of one hundred men to ride to Ser Gregors keep. Standing from the seat, Lord Stark shaking slightly at the pain put in his leg. Much of his muscle relying on the cane by his side but refusing to give an order sat down to the men who stood before him.

“In the Name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhyoynar the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring the King’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him. I strip him of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and sentence him to death.”

There was no question, and no waver in Lord Stark’s voice.

The crowd a mix of outraged murmurs and shocked whispers as you stared out to the court. Something in you feeling unsettled at how shocked they seemed to be hearing such a harsh judgment despite the disgust of the actions taken.

Standing up, Grand Master Pycelle’s face had twisted into that of the same kind of outrage you could see on the other highborn lords standing in attendance. “My Lord, this is a drastic action. It would be better to wait for the King’s return.”

“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Just as he had the confidence it died with such conviction in the strength of his voice. Yourself, you glanced forward to Lord Stark and it felt much like your years on Dragonstone watching your father stand before the smallfolk of the island, and the steadfast in his own voice commanding only that of justice and no glammer. “Send a Raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannerman. He will arrive within the fortnight, or be branded an enemy of the crown and traitor to the realm.”

The air of court was in shock, but you stood up as it was dismissed with no regard for such feelings on the matter. Faces of thank and a heartbreaking plea from the farmers of the Riverlands had been enough for you, not the corrupted care of those with enough as it was. Until it was their homes being burned down, their women being raped, and their children being massacred they cared not.

Only fanfare served this loud court and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was about Kings Landing that felt like it caked you in a grime that made you ashamed for still caring.

Such a man of grime, he had caught you walking through the gardens, leaving the needed quiet a memory of the past despite in desperate need. Your head needed silence, there was to much noise around you to make sense of it all and yet, here was the voice calling you before slinking up to your side. “You’re a hard one to find, Lady Stark.”

Looking forward at the greenery which was vibrant against the summer sun you considered the scenario to put a few more inches in between him and your person but of course it didn’t work. “What is it you want, Lord Baelish?”

“We haven’t spent much time in each others company since you’re return, never had the chance to congratulate you on your marriage.”

Unconvinced you needn’t pretend as if you were to this man of all people. “We aren’t friends, you have no reason to.” He chuckled and without a glance you could see the smug smile on his face that somehow tricked all too many. “Is that all?”

“Just because we aren’t friends, doesn’t mean I can’t have interest in your affairs. Afterall, it must be hard to spend so many years walking free, only to find yourself a wife within a months time.” Passing servants around, you cared not to consider who belonged to which but no doubt as you walked alone with Petyr Baelish, more then one spy had their eye on you. “Duty can be such a taxing thing for a lady.”

The half smile on your lips didn’t come close to reaching your eyes. “I’ve known the Starks far longer then it was my duty to marry them. My husband isn’t a taxing man. I assure you, I have no need for your concern.” Northerners were indeed made of something different it seemed sometimes.

But Lord Baelish leaned in, a whisper that clawed at your ear and made you scowl before the racing of your heart set in. “And what about leaving behind a certain half brother?” You didn’t look at him, in fact it took much of your energy to act as if you didn’t hear him even as he continued. “Such a shame, young love is so lively, and full of passion it would hurt anyone to give that up. Though I feel for the man, I know all too well watching the one you fought for marry off to a strong, more honourable wolf.”

Your jaw clenched, whatever eyes had found you over the years were whispering back to many sources it felt like. Nothing was a secret in this den of liars and spies. “I imagine you do, Lord Baelish. I couldn’t think of what it must feel like to watch it happen twice. Being left behind like that must leave one with a scar or two.”

His hands clasped together, unseen by your avoiding ones there was a darker flash in his eyes that spoke of something deeply kept down inside before he covered it with an aloofness. “Tell me, my lady is this something you wish to keep a secret?”

Stopping, you whipped around in place with a fiery anger in your eyes and a knowing smile that had seen it all coming. “If you are trying to say something, Lord Baelish, have the courage to just say it rather then play word games with me.”

“I’m simply wondering where your allegiance lies.”

Stepping closer to him, you raised your eyebrows as your heart felt as angry as your mind did. “My allegiance, Lord Baelish is with the one I swore a vow too. Perhaps it’s beacuse you are awfully unfamiliar with the practices of marriage, but when a woman swears her love and fealty to that of her husband it isn’t a vow to be broken. No matter what an outside opinion might say.”

His games were transparent. An attempt to pull back the words you say by paring them against something personal that eats at you as a person. He couldn’t care less about your marriage, or the left behind love with dark curls vowed at the end of world. Lord Baelish was asking you, where do you stand when such a vow is tested, and where do you lay when it all drops.

Inhaling, you curbed the anger. Looking at him without the spite in your heart. “Tell me, Lord Baelish. If your loyalty was tested, where exactly would you end up? Which side does your pendulum swing when the time comes?”

He smiled. So close you could feel his breath as he leaned down to you. “I wish you and Robb Stark a long, happy life together, my dear. Many years, with many beautiful children. Those Starks certainly have such a distinct look don’t they. I do hope you get to return to him soon. You suit our summer heats far less then you do Snow.”

It shouldn’t bother you, with anyone else you suspect it wouldn’t. But you couldn’t help but feel as if he was trying to scare you into something that you didn’t yet even see. You sat alone at the gardens for quite a while after that. The serene quiet leaving you alone as the sky draped down around you in an orange tone.

Many passed by, numerous people you’ve never seen and all of them caring of your presence as you did theirs, being none. Everyone seemed draped in rich fabrics, bright colours, hair shining in the sunlight as the ladies dressed high and ornate around or above their heads. Browns, and reds, many shades of black and yellows-

“She had yellow hair.” That’s what the boy, Gendry, had said about his mother. His eyes like Roberts a striking green, a strong face that ran through all the men in the family and just like his father, his uncles, even with your mothers lighter hair you and Shireen both held dark hair that also sat on Gendrys own head.

It was so easy to see Robert in the boys face. It was easy to see Stannis in yours and Shireens. The ones with Baratheon blood rang strong. Your mothers house that of Florent looked as if she didn’t exist in your appearance.

The Starks weren’t the only ones whose traits ran strong, and then the image of gold against brown slammed you in the face. You looked like Stannis, you looked like Robert and Renly. Even the bastards of your Uncle, Barra looked like Shireen, Gendry could be your brother.

But he wasn’t. He was your cousin. A cousin who looked just like you, and yet...

Your stomach turned in an instant. Were you not sitting already you’d have fallen over. The black haired child that Robert and Cersei had lost, and yet each child after with a golden head.

You could hear Grand Maester Pycelle’s words in your head, telling you that of Jon Arryn’s last words repeating. “The seed is strong.”

It was. Baratheon seed ran strong through all who were born from it, except for three. None of you with mothers of light hair had anything close to it. You were all taken by your fathers in appearance.

You had never seen anything of Robert in Joffery. And you never would. You could see only two people in your royal cousins looks, and it had you sick of being out alone in the sun. It had you sick at the mere thought, and suddenly you understood why Jon Arryn was no longer here.

You knew the truth that had your own father, that had Lord Stannis, abandon his duty in Kings Landing.

Arya had accosted you with questions as soon as you walked in. Your mind screaming at you you only caught onto her last. “Are you coming back with us?” She had to call your name just to get you to look at her. There was worry all over her face, and felt a great deal of struggle to mask yours.

“I don’t know. I need to speak to your father.” Trying to pass her by, she circled around with a furrow in her brow to block your path. “Arya-”

“No. You can’t stay here.” Something in her was upset, and you knew the weight of her own father’s injuries hurt her deeply inside. She had been pale when she came into his room for the first time once he was brought back, leg still bloody. Swallowing it down, she shook her head. “You married Robb, which mean’s you’re my sister, and we don’t leave our family behind.”

So there was a bit more to it, wasn’t there?

Inhaling deeply, you willed your racing nerves to ease down. Running a hand down her hair, it hit you in the chest at how easily she looked to you like that already. Like another sibling, who she didn’t want to leave behind.

Leave behind. That was a term that seemed to haunt you now. It wasn’t just leaving you in Kings Landing she was seeing. Arya would be going back to Winterfell, knowing one of them wouldn’t be there anymore. The one she wanted to be there the most. “Let me talk to your father, okay? It’s- things are complicated. There are things I need to sort out before I know if I’m going to Winterfell.”

“You better. Or me and Robb will come down here ourselves and drag you back home.” Pushing her gently to her room, you told her to pack her things.

Knocking at Lord Stark’s door, he hesitated before calling you to enter. Sat at his desk, the tome open in front of him, you both looked to the other with a horror wide in your eyes. He put it together as you had, as Jon Arryn had, as Stannis had. The truth was there and it couldn’t be forgotten.

Words caught in both your throats, your voice shook as it spoke up. “Joffery’s almost seventeen, how long have they, why would-”

“Lysa had wrote to Cat that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn. They murder him just as he finds out, then what? A month later, my boy falls from a window and an assassin is sent to murder him in his sleep all after the same Lannisters come into my home?”

There was pain in his voice, pain and an anger that sat so close to the surface for what they had done, tried to do. You pushed off the door, coming to sit in the chair across the desk. “Robb wrote saying Bran had no memory of it. He doesn’t remember falling, or any of it. But maybe that wasn’t good enough for what he saw, was it.”

As his jaw clenched, he looked at the drawer you knew the blade still sat in. “Cat and Robb think he was pushed. And now we know why.”

What other Lannister secret had had such lethal results before Bran came upon it. Ones that would be killed for? You didn’t imagine what could be worse, and imagining the truth at all felt unseemly.

“Robert needs to know too.”

Eyes widening, you looked extremely doubtful. “You know what he’ll do if you tell him.”

He shook his head, “He needs to be told. If he has no true born sons he needs to know about it, he needs to know what his own wife has done behind his back for twenty years.” But all you could see was the rage in his eyes at the shadow of an unborn child across the Narrow Sea. “Robert-”

“Is not the man you once knew.” Your teeth clenched in your mouth as you leaned forward resting your forehead in your palms before sitting back up with a loud huff. “He finds out the kids he’s been raising for sixteen years are Jaime’s-”

You didn’t finish the sentence, and Lord Stark didn’t finish it for you either. The quiet of the night poured in from the open balcony and whooshed between the two of you as it mocked you for how long it took to find this out. “This is why your father pushed to marry you and Robb.”

Looking at him, your arms now crossed over your stomach with too much behind your eyes.

“He and Jon Arryn found out, and he knows it makes him Robert’s true heir.”

Robert had insisted on the marriage between Joffery and Sansa, to combine the Crowns houses to that of the needed ally of the North. Your father found out the Queens secret, and suddenly that connection of Houses no longer would even exist. If Stannis was the heir, you were his. Which means he would need a new ally ship secured in the North.

At least you were a slightly better candidate as a wife to Robb then Joffery would be husband to Sansa.

“I’ll speak to the Queen in the morning. Tell her to leave the city with her children before Robert returns.”

It was a bad idea, but one that you couldn’t deter him from. This truth was about to come out, and the only fighting chance to save her children from Robert’s wrath was to confront her about it. Tommen and Myrcella were good, innocent kids. They had done less then nothing to deserve it, much like the sickening thought of two other children who didn’t deserve the end they had solely for who their own blood was.

That wasn’t Robert’s doing, but he paid no respects and sung no songs for Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryean. Perhaps this version of your Uncle you saw now wasn’t new. Just hiding under the surface.

You hated the thought of who else hid themselves so well under a veil for so long.

It all fell apart, and you knew this attempt to handle it delicately was over.

A boar, Ser Barristan had said. Blood soaking the white of his cloak and a pain in his face that blamed nothing but himself. The King had demanded everyone step back and let him handle the boar as it skewered him as he did it. Standing by the window, to the side of you was the Queen herself as Joffery sat on the bed.

You weren’t sure you ever saw this look on your cousins face. Not often did he feel something in the same devastating way pain hit the rest, but it hurt something inside the kid and you weren’t heartless to the loss. You’ve never lost your father, but you were about to your Uncle.

As a kid, maybe he would’ve had words for you. Something to say, memories to leave on a good note with. But now, all the dying Robert saw as he looked at you was the splitting image of the Stannis. Your face of steel and posture straight and giving little if anything, away. You gave less away then Cersei did, something human remained in her eyes but it swam with a worry that refused to give as Lord Stark was brought in.

Speaking weak, like each breathe took more life out of him as he tried giving anything to Joffery, but fell short of bringing himself to care like one. “I was never meant to be a father.” Faces in your mind, one young, one your age and yet none of those were really his children either you supposed. “Go on, you don’t want to see me like this.”

Joffery nodded as he pulled himself together before quickly leaving the room without another word to anyone. He was still a child, and that left part of you to still feel for his pain.

Lord Stark stood looking at him like you had when you walked in. This death would be none others fault then Robert’s stubbornness. Smiling at his old Northern friend who approached, it left you and Cersei in the background as she glanced at you. Only to find you already watching her carefully. The mark on her cheek, you hadn’t noticed until now.

Eyes narrowing at the sight, your flickered over to the dying King with a clenched jaw. Was he always this man or did this place turn him into such?

“Too much wine, missed my thrust.” Pulling the sheet back was a gruesome gouge in his side, parts of him out in chunks as it soaked red. “It stinks. It stinks like death, don’t think I can’t smell it.” Of all the things to take out a once strong warrior, it was the very things which led him to fail as a King. He was never meant to be a father, but he was never meant to be a King either.

Some men were leaders outside of war, Robert was not.

“I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain, you ask them if I didn’t.” He was a fool, he would die not even knowing the shambles his Kingdom was at risk of falling apart to. “I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the Kingdoms ever seen. And I want everyone to taste the boat that got me.”

Once more, you and Cersei looked the other. You read the guilty worry in her, and you were confident she could see the known truth right back and it only unsettled her more. Robert got himself killed at either the best or worst possible time. And it all depended on one man.

“Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to talk to Ned.”

“Robert, my sweet-”

No one bought it and Robert had little strength left to pretend as if he cared. “Out, all of you.”

Filing out, you paid no attention to the soon to be widow. Renly stood nearby with blood on him as well looking conflicted. A commonality in this city recently. Coming up to him as Ser Barristan stood not to far off all outside the door. “He was on edge the entire time. Ranting and raving, no matter what I said he just never stopped.”

Turning to look at the door from the corner of your eye, it didn’t miss your notice the suddenly absent Queen. Lord Stark would take down his final decrees of succession and no doubt make him protector of the realm until Joffery turned of age. Honour was losing this fight, and to accomodate him as an heir wouldn’t be honourable. But it would be just. Defy honour for the Kings last words to do your duty by the laws and justice of the realm he served.

You finally turned back to Renly, and no longer was it a grieving brother you saw but a Baratheon with something behind his mind. Don’t do something stupid you thought to yourself, there was enough of that going around in this family.

Ser Barristan blamed himself, saying he should’ve stopped him from all the wine. Shaking your head you looked at the closed door. “There’s not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who could stop Robert from destroying himself.”

Lord Stark reemerged enough to close the door, giving the dying King privacy. “Give him milk of the poppy.” You crossed your arms at the shiver down your spine. You’d rather just have it ended for you, rather then laying there withering away in the stench of death and barley conscious. Grand Maester Pycelle and Renly both going in.

You moved to stand on the side of his bad leg, noticing Lord Varys was near the wall like a spider having slunk in from the dark corners. “I wonder, Ser Barristan, who gave the king this wine?”

Credit, Lord Varys was far better at playing the concerned role then Lord Baelish was. The lack of an ego likely having something to do with it. “His squire, from the king’s own skin.” Lord Stark glanced at you, but it almost didn’t matter if it was Lancel. The King lay in there with the stench of death, while you stood out here starting to wonder what the scent of war was. “Such a dutiful boy to make sure his Grace did not lack refreshment. I do hope the poor lad does not blame himself.”

Stepping forward, you followed Lord Stark as came closer to the spider. “His Grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryean. Whatever arrangements you made, unmake them at once.”

Already walking down the hall, Lord Varys called back and you closed your eyes with a sigh. “I’m afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead already.” The girl would be dead, Viserys as well, but no one mentioned the fate of the unborn child.

You yearned for the cold of the North, at least it’s sting was just how it’s air was. But the stings were not yet over, and you felt like a fool for not seeing the next one coming. Renly calling your name was well as Lord Stark, asking for a moment alone.

“He named you protector of the realm.”

“He did.”

“She won’t care. Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command.” Leaning forward you suddenly saw him slipping away too. Cersei wouldn’t care, she didn’t leave when she was given the chance but Renly wasn’t thinking of anything close to such a situation.

“And what should I do with a hundred swords?”

Your skin pricked everywhere, blood hot in your veins as you felt much like you had in the small council chamber days ago. Like this wasn’t the man you knew. “Strike, tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffery away from his mother and into our custody.”

You stepped forward, a hiss in your voice and anger in your eyes. “Have you lost your mind?”

Looking at you, he pleaded for you go along with it, but this wasn’t some feast or tournament he wished to drag you along with. You didn’t imagine those swords were there for only threat, and you couldn’t help but think that those swords could be in the drapings of roses.

“Protector of the realm or no, he who holds the King holds the Kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies it will be too late for us.”

The growing anger only built, “What about Stannis?”

Renly looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, like you had just said the dumbest thing imaginable. “Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm.”

Lord Stark spoke, but you neither moved nor cooled off. He was your father, and he was the heir but Renly had a lifetime of having Robert hand things to him which belonged to Stannis. It seemed still now as Robert lay dying he still expected such treatment. The childish notions of a man who has no idea what the world outside his luxury looks like.

“Stannis is your older brother.”

“This isn’t about the bloody line of succession. That didn’t matter when you rebelled against the Mad King. It shouldn’t matter now. We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He’s not a King.” If the Starks had a temper, the blood in you which was born a Baratheon raged to that of their fury.

Renly knew nothing of what his brother was capable of, he got to sit in Storms End as a child and have advisors rule for him until he was summoned to Kings Landing where he got the same treatments. Only then he got to rub it into his brothers face directly what he got instead. He spent years telling you that you seemed to have too much in common with your father and he had the audacity to speak to you like it didn’t matter.

If Stannis wasn’t a king, then could be? Renly had an answer for that too. “I am.”

Were Lord Stark not here, you wondered how easily that fury would have let itself be known. And you were far luckier that the he was as calm as he was in the face of what was being presented. “Stannis is a commander. He’s led men into war twice, he destroyed the Greyjoy fleet.”

His face twisted into denial, as if the two of you were the mad ones. “Yes he’s a good solider. Everyone knows that, so was Robert. Tell me something, Do you still believe good soldiers make good kings?”

He looked surefire, cocky, but yet he didn’t look at you anymore. Dancing around the truth and spouting honeyed words to bend things to his side instead of having the courage to say what he truly means. It had nothing to do with Stannis. It had nothing to do with any of this.

Lord Stark’s word was final. “I will not dishonour Robert’s last hours by shedding blood in his halls, and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Leaving to rejoin his guards, you were left standing in the halls with your uncle.

“You know what he’ll do. You know he won’t let you do this. Not anymore.” You stepped into his space as Renly raised his head high. “Don’t tear us apart now, not while your own brother is still laying in a pool of his own blood.”

“And you? Whose side are you on, my dear niece. For someone who claims to be on Stannis’s side your spending an awful lot of time next to your new father.” Closing the gap you two would only hear the other, words just for you as he said your name. “You don’t want your family to be torn apart? Then consider what family it is your siding with exactly.”

Renly stormed off before you, and the halls choked you with the scent of war. It had been some time since you had heard from Robb, and he you. Not that he could know the extent, but the Lannisters putting a spear through his fathers leg sent a pretty loud message that Kings Landing was not a place that was trusted. Not even with written words in the sky. The distance didn’t feel like it made the heart grow stronger. You felt only isolated.

Lord Stark had called upon Lord Baelish. He didn’t say to you why, and you appreciated that he knew you well enough that it didn’t need to be said. It didn’t feel good, it wasn’t honourable what he was to ask and yet it seemed this place demanded it. You didn’t know what Renly was doing, or what he had planned but as you stood against the wall watching Lord Stark write, you only wished he wasn’t so stupid this time.

Just this once.

Taking it upon himself to write of Roberts death, and choosing his words carefully just as your father would his. Only, you couldn’t shake what Renly had said. Condescendingly calling Lord Stark your new father and yet imploring you to side against your father by birth. Consider what family your siding with?

What was that answer?

You had shaken your head a silent no when he asked if you wanted to look over it. Yes you trusted his words, but it didn’t feel good. Bells ringing in the distance of a dying king and bloodshed waiting the halls of it’s kingdom. Summoning one of his men, Tomand, Lord Stark sealed the letter with his sigil and with firm instructions left no room for question.

“You will sail to Dragonstone tonight. You will place this in the hand of Stannis Baratheon. Not his Steward, not his captain of the guard, and not his wife. Only Stannis himself.”

It was that day in the godswood that you truly felt the comfort of a father. As he stood with you an arm comforting you around your shoulder as the panic boiled inside of your chest. That same feeling returned now. Did not assume, nor even ask if you would want to be the one to deliver it to him.

He said at the wedding, once you married Robb you would be part of the pack. A pack which protects each other. He kept you at his side, not sending you off alone once more and it made your limbs weigh down with metal to the floor. A pack leader does not let one of them go off all alone.

It was then that Lord Baelish arrived. The bells of death in the background as he bowed with a low whisper and smile. “My Lord Protector.”

Lord Stark looked at you, and you tilted your head with a grimace. It indeed, beyond all doubt as of this moment was his choice alone. Looking down to the desk, before back up he ripped the bandage off. “The King has no true born sons. Joffery and Tommen are Jaime Lannisters bastards.”

Eyes narrowing, he sat down. “So when the King dies...”

Your voice was rough from the silence, “The throne passes to his brother. Lord Stannis.”

Lord Baelish had the audacity just as your uncle before. Starting with the word “Unless” before the fed up sensation passed on finally to Lord Stark. “There is no unless. He is the rightful heir nothing can change that.”

“And he cannot take the throne without your help, you would be wise to deny it to him. And to make sure Joffery succeeds.” Were you not his family anymore truly or did this city fill itself with that of heartless rats who would turn on the other in a snap of fingers? You stood up straighter as he cared not much to consider the betrayal hurting your eyes.

Leaning forward, Lord Stark’s voice as ashamed to be in the same room with him as you. “Do you have a shred of honour?”

The answer was no, but not in so little words. “You are now Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. All the power is yours you need only reach out and take it.” And yet here he was asking Lord Baelish of all people for help, that didn’t feel like power to you. “Make peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp, wed your daughter to Joffery.”

You could throw something sharp through his neck the second he looked at you with his words covered in grime. “We have plenty of time to get rid of Stannis.” He didn’t even flinch at the step you almost took forward. Your heart feeling as if it was carving itself out a new hole just filling with hatred and anger. “And if Joffery seems likely to cause problems when he comes into his throne, we simply reveal his little secret and sit Lord Renly there instead.”

Renly. “He’s not a King. I am.” How far did this web of betrayals spread? It was treason, and you spat out as such but he only smiled with surity.

“Only if we lose.”

Lord Stark was as unconvinced as yourself, his own anger locked away in his rigid tone pulling open the drawer. “Make peace with the Lannisters you say. The people who tried to murder by boy.” The ornate dagger, he placed it onto his desk and you only could see again.

How many children in his fight are to be the victims and none of the perpetrators?

“We only make peace with our enemies, my lord. That’s why it’s called making peace.” Lord Stark refused, saying he wouldn’t do it and it seemed to shift the confident smugness right out of his bravado and slithering onto the floor and out the window. “So it will be Stannis. And war.”

“There is no other choice, he is the heir.”

It was fitting it seemed. To your father, it was not a choice either. It was his, and that would be where the question ended.

Asking why he was even brought here, you once again shared a look between you and Lord Stark. It seemed that today was a day to give many things up. “The Queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms. Enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard. I need the gold cloaks. The city watch is two thousand strong and sworn to defend the Kings peace.”

Was that all though? No it wasn’t, and Lord Baelish once more returned of his pride. A smirk growing wider at the more the silence between you stood in the air. “Look at you two. You know what you want me to do, you know it has to be done but it’s not honourable. So the words stick in your throat.”

His hand reached up, slowly toying with the daggers edge as he started to swivel it. “When the Queen proclaims one King and the Hand another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow?”

Lord Stark couldn’t say it. He wouldn’t bring himself to admit to needing such a favour and it made you hold a need to reach out to him. But here, in this place? You would be the one to summon the guts.

Looking off to the other side of the room, your arms crossed as you leaned against the wall an almost ironic smirk fell over your lips. Lord Baelish wasn’t an honourable man, or even a good one. But here you were, the daughter of the Lord which hated him arguably the most. Pleading for his help.

You felt gross as you said the words. “The man who pays them.”

The day was bright as the bells continued to ring. Lord Starks men split between readying things to send Arya and Sansa back to Winterfell as the others remained by both your sides. Arya wanting one last lesson with her dancing master she never took a chance at missing a lesson. At this rate she could give you a run for your money, and you’d welcome it even if just to shake you momentarily out of the feeling you had in your gut.

It was the same one that you had before, the screaming throttle that twisted your insides just as it had that day on the Kingsroad. You thought it was a result of parting ways but it seemed that it was just as strong now despite him having nothing to do with the current issue.

Morning bright and no news yet having reached either of you when one of the throne’s pages came up to you both. The guards at the ready, and Lord Stark having to ease them as you turned to look at the man. “Lord Stark, King Joffery and the Queen regent request your presence in the throne room.”

Heart slowing a shiver danced down your spine as your words came out breathlessly. “King Joffery?”

The bells tolled in the sky but it sounded like they were ringing in your head, each boom smacking you with the steps you took towards the throne room. The pit in your stomach grew as the weight of the paper in your hand was doubled, tripled, turned to metal from paper. In the courtyard stood many of the city watch as your own group approached Lord Baelish and Lord Varys.

A calm and confident look on the formers face, as the nerves ran ragged as much as your blood ran hot in your veins. “All is accomplished, the city watch is yours.”

One was missing. One person was missing and despite knowing it was fruitless you looked around like a child as if he was just hiding. “Is my Uncle joining us?”

Lord Varys for his part, looked genuine in his words. He was the one man you found hard to read but his eyes didn’t speak favourably. “I fear lord Renly has left the city.” Your heart sank down as your limbs froze in the summer heat. “He road through the old gate an hour before dawn with Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers. Last seen galloping south in some haste.”

Lord Stark beside you could hear the yells of war over the bells. You had one chance today, one last plea to Cersei to do this one thing and at the least you would be the five kingdoms against two. The paper in your hand felt like a beg, an ask for mercy knowing Renly would not find any.

If you could sit your father on the throne, only Renly would be the obstacle and he stood no chance with only Storms End and Highgarden at his back. But as you swallowed hard and your eyes fell to Lord Stark? The sharpness and grim tone in both of you felt that dread loom.

Coming up to the main doors, behind you were Lord Varys and Baelish, around them was the remains of the Stark household guard that served at his side and all around you and beyond were the gold cloaks. To the side of you was stood Lord Janos Slynt, standing with as much posture as a man such as himself could manage. “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”

The doors opened and the throne room was ready. In the Iron Throne sat Joffery, dressed in gold and the crown atop his head with a smile that sliced at you. You saw none of Robert and only of the Lannisters which spawned him. Approaching the air was thick, thick enough to cut with a sword should one attempt.

“All hail his Grace, Joffery of Houses Baratheon and Lannister. First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

You and Lord Stark stood together, the Kingsguard all standing in a path to the throne as Cersei sat with a knowing look in her eye that made the anger rise. Renly wanted war, but he was also right. She wouldn’t care and this was the last chance you and Lord Stark had to escape this unscathed.

Joffery, now King Joffery you supposed sat at his Throne not even standing in anyway. No hint of the tragic child losing his father with watery eyes was to be seen. “I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today, I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.”

The room was deathly silent. All eyes on the pair of you as Lord Stark nodded. He would do his duty and you would not blame him for that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Your voice for all your bad luck, came out dutiful and strong. “Ser Barristan. I believe none here could dare question your honour.”

Stepping forward as you did him, you handed the paper to him as you both looked at one another firmly. His hesitation to the blazing look and serious harshness in your eyes and gaze took him back for something he was not prepared for. Looking it over, he turned to the crown.

“King Roberts seal. Unbroken.” No movement from the Queen, she wouldn’t care he was right. “Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm. To Rule as Regent until the heir come of age.”

Joffery looked confused and offended, as your eyes met what you once thought of as your cousin. He said nothing, but his mother did. Always running to her for the hard work as he sat like a spoiled brat and eyed you like you were the craven, not him.

The Queen looked it over, “Protector of the Realm? Is this mean to be your shield Lord Stark? A piece of paper?” Tearing it into pieces, you felt those nerves turn to anger once more. She won’t care, Renly said. She won’t care and yet he rides off knowing war is inevitable.

Ser Barristan looked up to her, his own face betraying his conflict. “Those were the Kings words.”

“We have a new King now.”

Perhaps it was your position, but you couldn’t deny no matter how you felt about the side of your family. You were now the daughter of the rightful king, and there on the throne sat a product of disgust and dishonour that looked at you with eyes of hate. Cersei’s eyes were on Lord Starks and it seemed now the wolves had their opponents in the lions.

“Lord Eddard when we last spoke you offered me some council. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son. And we shall allow you and the Lady Stark to live out your days in the grey waste you call home.”

He spoke with no hesitation to admit the truth, and in a single instance there was no turning back anymore. It was war, and there was no stopping any of it from any side. “Your son has no claim to the throne.”

Joffery screeched out that he was a liar. Your eyes narrowing as your fury raised. Cersei demanding Ser Barristan take you both, Lord Stark pleaded to the immediate closing in from his guard and the city watch. “Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man do him no harm.”

You didn’t look at him, and you didn’t see the true hesitation in his pause. He knows neither of you are liars nor thieves. He knows Lord Stark bound to honour and you carry the weight of your fathers fist of justice. He knew you since you were a girl but all you could see was the possessed demon of gold on the Throne.

“You think he stands alone?”

Swords were drawn, her men showing no hesitation that the man before you did. Joffery screamed to them. “Kill them, kill both of them, I command you.”

Whatever sympathy for the boy at his fathers death bed you held, died in that moment. None left and for whatever reason, all you could think of was how easily Robb overpowered him, tossed him around and left him bruised skin and ego so easily in the training yard of Winterfell. The memory of the boy throwing a tantrum and the smirk Robb sent your way at how little he’d even broken a sweat by that point made you exhale a shaking breathe of fury.

Being a lion didn’t make him brave. It didn’t make him fierce. But you could see Robb Stark as clear now as you glared at the new King and just perhaps he was destined to find out how much a wolf could tear a lion apart.

Have your men, your mother, fight this battle for you Joffery. It won’t protect you forever.

Lord Stark raising his own voice, the tension so heavy the court was choking in it. “Commander, take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to their royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.”

From right beside you, Janos Slynt responded in kind. “Men of the Watch,” The shift and all of their own spears pointed to the swords of the Kingsguard and Lannister men.

You and your cousin staring the other down, that crown on his head looking far too big for such a coward. Lord Stark giving a plea, “I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords, no one needs to die.”

Seconds passed which felt like minutes dragging along the clock. Cersei and Joffery towards Lord Stark and yourself as you waited out their decision. Only they didn’t make one, and neither did you.

From the same voice which assured they stood behind you, Janos Slynt yelled, “Now,”

Blood flew everywhere in an instant. The City Watch turning onto the Starks household guard and without any shame or order taking them all to the ground with horrid shings of metal that screeched in your ears. Lord Stark and yourself moving to the other as you looked around at the horror as you didn’t understand what happened.

In the mess of blood and swords, you turned to look at Lord Stark only to be yanked backwards. Two arms pulling your back up to their front as Janos Slynt held your hands pinned to your body as his other held a blade up to your throat.

In front of you, stood Lord Stark exactly as you were only behind him was the traitor you should have seen coming. Lord Baelish stood behind him, the very blade in hand used to try and murder Bran now sat pointed edge at his throat as the massacre occurred around you. “I did warn you not to trust me.”

You had never been in the black cells before, nor anywhere near them before now. Back pressed up against one the walls with your knees pulled up to your chest, you could see and hear it happening all around you. Lord Baelish had played you and Lord Stark like fools, the slimy lies of Janos Slynt telling you both, “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”

It was angering, enough you hadn’t even noticed how much your fingernails were cutting into the skin of your palms as you curled them. They would’ve gone after the girls too, they wanted Sansa to marry Joffery they would keep her close, but Arya? You couldn’t imagine what they’d done to her, or where she’d even be. She was fast, and clever you knew, maybe she’d run. But to where?

She was just a child, who could she even turn to rely on? Who was left in this city to care?

The longer you sat in that cell, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that staying here would be the end for you. Your father wouldn’t bend the knee, even for you. Worse then that, you weren’t just considered a traitor now, you were the daughter of the one man Cersei had reason to fear. Renly had the numbers of Storms End and Highgarden, but he wasn’t a leader. Stannis Baratheon was the one that she would fear.

He was without mercy, and not a man she could ever hope to trick or manipulate. It was what made him so unlikable in a place like this, you couldn’t buy him or trick him because he saw no value in the tricks such things brought. You can’t hold his daughter hostage and assume that would be enough to send him away, no.

He was Robert’s heir, and you were his. You were as big of a threat as he was in Cersei’s eyes.

Your vision blurred the light of the torch as the cell door cracked open. A figure coming towards you, you kept your head high and looking straight, they wanted to see you break, they’d have to do far worse then this. Your name fell from a familiar voice as they knelt down in front of you, repeating it once more until your eyes focused.

“Lord Varys.”

Dressed as a gaoler its likely in a place like this he wasn’t so easily spotted. “My lady, it’s truly a shame to see you in such a place.”

Raising your eyebrows, your face was skeptical. “Is it? You did a fine job at watching us get dragged down here like animals. Tell me, did Lord Baelish surprise you too or was this one big lie?”

Huffing out a laugh, he bent his head before a small grimace. “I assure you, it was not my intentions to have it end up like this. Lord Baelish’s own motives do not often align with my own. I have no interest in seeing Renly Baratheon on the Iron Throne.”

The laugh leaving you was as cracked as it was fake. “What do you want. Really. If you’re here to lecture me, I’d much rather die without one.”

“Unfortunately, you are far more useful to the realm alive then dead. But only if you understand where it is your allegiances should lay.” Watching you shake your head, he leaned forward. “Your father is the one thing Cersei sees as a real threat, and if you can quell her worries that you will be too then she just may let you live.”

Heart weighing heavily in your chest you shook your head once more. “The only reason he or I am a threat to her is because she knows her son has no actual claim to the throne. Why should I turn a blind eye to the thing that murdered Jon Arryn, that had my father abandon me here- you really think I would bend the knee to Joffery?”

A tsk came from his mouth, “I’m not asking you to enjoy it, I’m asking you to do this for the good of the realm.” You said nothing, you found it too hard to believe anything in this place, or most people. “Denounce your ties to your father, swear your loyalty-”

“And what? She’ll let me go? Keep me here as a prisoner for the rest of my life?”

Lord Varys sighed, standing up with a blank stare. “Perhaps there’s someone else you may hear reason from.” Another figure, not quite like him. Taller, leaner and dressed in more commoner rags until they slid their hood down and your eyes widened.

Your back straightened, pushing yourself against the wall as Ser Barristan made his way towards you, a somber look in his eye as well as such frowns they indented lines in his face. He held no weapons, he hadn’t even harmed you or Lord Stark’s men but he was the Kingsguard now. As he knelt in front of you, one knee on the ground as he looked you over with a concern befitting of his profession, you held your breathe.

Gently murmuring your name, you felt your chest close up more. He ran a gentle hand down the side of your head where a mark had been bleeding, you think from when they tossed you in here. “I never thought-”

Speaking before your logic could overtake, “It’s not your fault. You have a duty and you were just following it.” There still was a sting, that he was still sided against you, and yet his very appearance in here alongside Lord Varys said otherwise. Starting to say something about King Robert you interrupted him, nothing left to hide as you sat here. “Joffery and Tommen aren’t Roberts sons. Robert has no true heir.”

His eyes betrayed very little but the length of pause as you saw wheels in his head turning, made him glance up to Lord Varys who tilted his head as if to say you were telling the truth. “His final seal, about the heir-”

“He didn’t know, he died not knowing. He wanted Lord Stark to rule until Joffery came of age, he wasn’t trying to take it from him.” His face twitched in thought as you both looked at the other with a defeated expression, yours threatening to water much to your dismay.

“Then that makes the heir-”

Lord Varys finished for him, a tone of finality that was grim and looming. “Lord Stannis Baratheon.” A moment passed between you and Ser Barristan, there was little confidence in your face nor was their acceptance in your heart. “Cersei no doubt sees her persistence here as a threat to her son. If Stannis is the heir, that would make our dear Lady Stark here second in line.”

Pausing, Ser Barristan opened and closed his mouth before putting things together. “But his brother-”

You huffed a breathe of air. “Renly wanted to take the throne before Robert was even dead. Then he ran off with the Tyrells in toe. My father won’t take kindly to that. If he’s coming here with war, he’ll sure as hell find some of it for being usurped on just one more thing Renly doesn’t deserve.” You still held love in your heart for him, but he was a fool. He was well liked, but that didn’t make you a leader. It wasn’t enough.

“Stannis is a proven battle commander, he gave his eldest daughter a Lord’s education, taught her how to fight and raised her to follow in his footsteps.” Both men looked at you, and Ser Barristan didn’t seem to be okay with the conclusion in your eyes. “He would name her his direct heir in place of a son, and even worse, with Robb Stark at her side-”

“She’ll have the support of the North too.”

You hated it all. You hated that you and Robb had just been pawns in a scheme for a throne you never wanted, your father doesn’t even want it but he will make it his duty to fulfill his rightful claim. That’s why it didn’t matter to him if you and Robb cared for the other, should you succeed Stannis then you’d have an existing ally in the North.

It had nothing to do with how close to family the Starks had become, nothing to do with how at home you felt in the North and where you belonged. It was about the throne this whole time.

“So, what now? Lord Varys. Tell me, you bring him all the way down here to what? Rub in how fucked I am? Have Ser Barristan return to the crown and tell them all about how uncooperative I’m being?”

His head dropped in a sigh that exuded residual anger but the exhaustion was too strong to attempt to pry. There was clearly more that they weren’t saying but they also continued to dance around why they were even here. “Cersei has had Sansa write a letter pleading to her brother to come to Kings Landing and swear his fealty to the new king.”

You laughed, only the air coming from it sounded dry and painful. “The Lannisters try to kill his brother, put a spear through Lord Stark’s leg, now they think telling him they’ve arrested his father and wife, Robb is suddenly going to find it in his heart to forgive them? They don’t know him very well.”

Ser Barristan was a tad on the more gentle side. “The Queen doesn’t know many as well as she thinks she does.” Somewhere in your mind it did register he didn’t come down here as a Kingsguard, when he reasonably would have access to the black cells. “Including myself, my lady.”

Glancing between them, it blurted out before you had fully realized the thought. “Where’s Arya?”

Lord Varys didn’t look grim, but he did look unsure as did his words sound it. “Somewhere still in the city we presume, but no one has found her. Not even my little birds have found any trace.”

“Would you really tell me if they did, though?”

He didn’t answer, and that was as much one as if he said no out loud. “Get out.” Looking up at the spider you had no bite behind the spiting words but the sentiment was seen. “I don’t make peace with backstabbing lions, and I am not starting now.”

Ser Barristan looked unsure of leaving, but rose to his feet anyways. The slight flicker of warmth at seeing him dying as the torch started leaving the light in your eyes. Lord Varys was barley visible before he turned the door, “You might be the only one who can stand in Stannis’s way of the throne, I know that, Cersei knows that. He may be your father, but he is the one thing which scares her the most. There is nothing half as as terrifying as a truly just man, my lady. Denounce him and you will walk out of this cell with your life.”

You stopped looking at him, just into the darkness you would go back too once the door closed. “She will walk me out of this cell alive no matter what, letting me rot to death in here doesn’t send a message to my father. A public execution and sending my head to Dragonstone does.”

Did you dream? Or was it just a hallucination as you hazed back into the conscious world. The sight of fire once more filling your vision, but you were dozy with memories that scrambled to put themselves together once more. You could hear Robb, see him almost. The reddish brown curls and his warm voice like the fire in his room, a comforting touch across the back of your neck as he spoke to you.

The words faded, but they were there and he hummed in your ear so soothingly. But they didn’t stay that way, the warm soothing tone slipped. The red tinted brown grew longer and darker to a black as the voice became an enticing husk, a rasping voice.

The hand on you grew tighter only it wasn’t on the back of your neck, now it felt as if the hands urged you in the opposite direction, the only sight of the faded figure, dressed in leathers and black not furs and armour as before. Fire was in your vision, small like a balled up little flame that the figure snatched with his bare hands.

Tossing it beyond your face as the voice rasped in your ear only for the light to find itself thrown onto the torch now close to your face. And now the voices were gone, and the darkness around you was cold and the isolation fierce.

Your eyes struggled to see but once more Ser Barristan knelt before you gently calling your name. His hands reached to help you stand as you looked in confusion. “You shouldn’t-”

“My lady, I shouldn’t be in this city with how many men the Queen would’ve sent looking for me.” Your eyebrows raised slightly as your lips slightly parted in confusion. “The Crown has decided I’m not fit to serve as a Kingsguard anymore, but I’ll be damned if I let them shut me away in a home where I’m not use to anyone.”

That’s why he wasn’t here as one of them, just in clothes that he could hide in.

“But you are of no use to anyone here either, my lady. We know war is coming to these shores and I won’t have you on the wrong side when it happens.” Pulling you to the door of the black cell, he wrapped a long cloak with a dark hood around you, pulling it up.

“Ser Barristan, I can’t just leave them-” He had to lean down slightly to look at your eyes, his hands comfortingly on your shoulder. “Lord Stark, Arya..they’re my family now I can’t just leave them like this. That isn’t who I am.”

His grip was strong keeping you in place as he said your name firmly. “They are not your only family, and they aren’t the only ones who need you. You are still as much a Baratheon as you are a Stark now, and that means you have a duty. One you can’t do from in here.”

Lord Varys had said only you could convince your father to not make his attack, your other family is locked away or scattered across the country but your duty was said to be that of your fathers.

“He won’t bend, you know that.”

Nodding back, he leaned forward more to a whisper even in the vast emptiness. “Joffery is not a king either of us can stand in court to serve anymore, they have made sure of that. But you were raised to be more then just a lady, perhaps you were meant to serve another king. One that you can actually call family.”

Duty and family. They were one in the same sometimes, but to others they got in the way. Your mind echoed a whisper in your ear, warm and soothing like the first voice in your feverish dreams of moments ago, as it told you “Here. You belong here.”

“We can’t just walk through the gates, not now.” Coming into the dark hallway, you both swiftly made your way to the end of the corridor as you looked to another closed cell. Was he in that one? Was he okay, still alive? But the footsteps pacing down the other hall had Barristan bring you along further.

His voice gruff and low, “The Targaryeans built tunnels beneath the city if they ever needed to escape. We can follow one of them, and end up at one of the small shore docks, and there you need to go to Dragonstone. Rejoin your family and maybe we both can find purpose out of this city.”

In his eyes, Ser Barristan had failed to protect King Robert from himself. Just maybe this was his way of atoning, if he couldn't protect you, the King’s niece and true claimed King’s daughter and heir, maybe he could get you home.

By the time any noticed, Cersei had put a stall on any ship leaving for ports within the Crownlands until they could be searched. The new King, Joffery having yelled over her and angrily about killing you should they find you alive and to bring him Barristans head for helping you escape.

No one knew which ship you had left on, but they were determined to stop you before letting Stannis and his firstborn heir reunite. As you stood in breeches, and a cloak curled around your body as the hood draped over your head you looked out into the water.

You hadn’t travelled this way on a ship of smallfolk before, but the route was all the same. You’d be there in no time should the gods bless you with the winds or the tides. As Kings Landing left your vision, you couldn’t help but see those same images.

The soft touch of Robb that now felt like a lifetime away, a dream showing you the panicked husk of what sounded like Jons voice rasping something you couldn’t recall to you as if he was grabbing fire out of your own hands. You could see their father, Lord Stark and the fear for the others life in yours and his eyes as you were hauled away as traitors. And the worry in manys eyes as they spoke of your own father, Stannis.

The sea didn’t smell of something crisp and it didn’t flush cool on your skin. The sea, much like the skies and the earths all below it, it all looked like blood, like fire, like the stench of war loomed over the horizon.

You just hoped you reached home, before home left for war without you.

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