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Blood in the Rivers: I

A/N: I don’t even know, fam. This was supposed to be just smut but then The Plot happened and now this is 13.4k words and nowhere near finished. Now, it is somehow righting the wrongs D&D (and GRRM, let’s be real) trolled us with. There will be obvious canon-divergence right off the bat.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, things get hot and heavy (or at least I try to make them...? Whatever. you be the judge) and my overuse of italics

Word Count: 13.4k (jfc)

Summary: Y/N Tully always knew how to play the part of the perfect lady when someone was watching. It was a game she liked to play, knowing how to act in order to get what she wanted. But now, as the War of the Five Kings rages, Y/N knows she needs allies if she wants to keep her family safe and her head on her shoulders. But in this game, everything has a price.

Chapter One: Plots, Plots, Plots

Smuggling Sansa out of King’s Landing had consumed the youngest Tully. While she played the part of dutiful peon, renouncing her father, uncle, and cousin and their actions against the crown, she was plotting. Sansa was sweet and kind and everything Y/N knew she should be as a highborn lady. Watching Joffrey command Meryn Trent to beat and strip her cousin’s eldest daughter in front of a crowd had only driven her to near madness in her quest to protect Sansa. It only took a handful of weeks for the plan to be finalized. Murmurs of Stannis Baratheon’s impending attack were quickly sweeping through the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing.

She set off toward the Keep’s rookery with two small missives neatly stacked together. An aged maester had been the same guardian of the ravens for decades. Blind in one eye and slow to walk, she knew her window was reasonable but still limited. He was also a loyal dog to the queen. Each of her movements would be whispered in Cersei’s ear by lunch.

She stepped into the rookery and resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the scent of shit and dirt and dust. It was just another reminder of how far away she was from Riverrun and its clean air, always scented with the mist and overgrown grasses.

The Maester stood slowly from his cluttered desk and offered her a small smile. “Ah, Lady Tully. How may I help you?”

She held up the slips of parchment to make it look like a single letter. “A missive for my Uncle Hoster.”

“Ah,” the maester said, the sound catching in his throat. “Another plea for him to see reason?”

“Of course.” She handed over the carefully written and brief letter while tucking the other into her palm.

The maester read it and nodded. “You are a service to your house, my lady.”

She pressed a pleased smile to her lips and dipped her head demurely, as she had half a dozen times before. Edmure and Hoster were aware that she would be pressed to write stupid letters like the one in the maester’s spindly fingers. The only truth written in those missives were that she loved them. “I thank you for that.” She then plucked it from his fingers with another smile and started to walk backward toward the cage.

“May I send it for you, my lady? The ravens here tend to be fickle beasts if they do not know your face.” The maester smiled kindly and held out his hand for her letter again.

But she shook her head and continued backward. It was true, usually her letters were taken directly from her desk and sent off without having to go to the rookery herself—but this called for a change. She’d visited the rookery last week to see how it was divided between the realms and she could time how quick she needed to be in her task; it had been under the guise of being lost looking for the Grand Maester to “ask for guidance as to how to bring her errant father and uncle back under the guidance of the Crown.” It was all so easy to play the part of mindless crown loyalist. “The ravens of Riverrun have always adored me—I do not see why these would be any different. But I do thank you for the offer.”

She skittered through the door and quickly found the correct batch of ravens and fastened the small slip of parchment to the raven’s leg and set it loose before flittering over to the ravens meant for Riverrun and tying the other. She set that one loose a little slower as she heard the maester step into the large cage with his uneven gait. She made a bit of a show of watching the raven fly away in the window and turned and heaved a hearty sigh.

“They seem to like you.” He chuckled, another dry, rasping sound.

“Yes, I suppose.” Another exaggerated sigh. “I do hope Lord Tully listens to reason this time.” She then curtseyed and walked away. The maester looked relieved as she said goodbye to him and took her leave of the rookery.

But it was done.

And when the Red Keep was essentially barricaded against the coming attack, she knew her time had come. She slipped out of Maegor’s Holdfast without too much fanfare. Cersei was drunk and had requested more wine anyway. Y/N saw the opportunity for what it was and left the Holdfast under the guise of serving the Queen, just ahead of schedule.

Sounds of the battle echoed through the strangely empty halls as she hurriedly made her way toward her destination. Quiet footsteps soon followed her and she skirted around a corner and pulled out the small dagger she’d hidden in her sleeve. But it was poor Sansa who had followed her—much earlier than what they had agreed upon.

“I-I’m sorry!” Sansa whimpered as she stared at the sharp edge of her “cousin’s” blade.

“You are fine, my little one. I’m sorry I almost cut you.” She quickly hid the dagger away and took Sansa’s hand, leading her back toward her chambers. The older of the two was equal parts relieved and shocked to see the Hound waiting in Sansa’s rooms. “Sandor.” His name came like a rushed breath. “You are early.”

“I’m not doing-”

“Take Sansa to Dorne.”

Both of them gaped at the request.

“What?” It was Sansa who finally broke the tense silence of the room. “Dorne? B-but, I-”

She gathered the Sansa’s hands in her own and kissed her shaking fingers. “You will be safe. Sandor will see you there without harm. Everyone will think you’ve gone North and scavenge and pillage looking for you. No one will think to look for you in Dorne. The Martells have no love for the Lannisters even with the betrothal of Trystane and Myrcella. They will know of your story.” She knew it to be a shaky alliance to begin with, especially with Myrcella being betrothed to Trystane. But betrothals could be broken and their memories were long. And this was the best option for Sansa. The only.

“You won’t come with me?” Tears gathered in her eyes.

She shook her head. “I must let them think they’ve won. I still have a part to play in this game.” She then turned to the taciturn soldier. “What say you, Sandor? Will you deliver Sansa to Dorne? Keep her safe, unharmed, and untouched?”

His burnt face twisted in a grimace. “I should take her North. Like I said-”

“But you will not. South is safe. Keep her safe.” She bent and pulled something from her skirts—a small satchel of coin. She pushed it into his hands when he didn’t move to accept it.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ coin-”

“This is for food and shelter during your travels. Take it. Now.” She only let herself smile when he did. “You may not believe in knighthood, Sandor. But you are the only man I’ve met who even compares to a true knight.”

The burnt man frowned at her words but didn’t say anything. He took several steps back as Sansa flung her arms about Y/N’s shoulders in a fierce embrace.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, little one. Now, you must stay alive.” A handful more of quiet encouragements and goodbyes were spoken before she pulled a small sack from beneath Sansa’s bed and handed it to her. “A few dresses for the warmer weather. And I stole some lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

Sandor snorted.

Sansa nodded with tears in her eyes and let out a shaking breath as Y/N kissed her forehead. “Go, Sansa. Live.” She watched Sansa place a shaking hand in Sandor’s before they quietly disappeared into the night.

Outside, the battle raged on. Y/N slipped out of Sansa’s chambers and walked toward the Holdfast once again. She hid away in a darkened passageway and once again drew her dagger. It didn’t take long for her to complete the final task of her plan for the night. She had grabbed a jug of wine from the kitchens and let it slip from her fingers with a crash before turning the blade on herself. Pain bloomed through her stomach and her dagger clattered to the ground, slipping from her now-slick, reddened grip. “Help me!” She screamed, forcing tears to her eyes. “Help me!”

Life in King’s Landing hadn’t particularly changed since the Tyrells had arrived. Of course, people whispered about Sansa’s disappearance—her favorite rumor was that Sansa turned into a wolf and raced into the battle herself. And Y/N’s stab wound had earned her a strange sort of awe around the court. Stabbed for wine, the stupidity of it all. The official story was that a kitchen maid had tried to steal some jewels (or just food, depending on who was asked) and little Lady Tully had caught the maid in the act before she fled into the night. They stopped by the time her wound had healed. As she sat across from Olenna Tyrell in the gardens, Y/N suddenly wondered if she had finally met an adversary worthy of her time or another ally. Margaery, the beauty and new betrothed to the Brat King, Joffrey after the ‘victory’ of the Battle of the Blackwater, seemed amiable enough as she sat beside her grandmother but a beautiful face often hid an ugly heart. Cersei was proof of that enough.

“You know, a cousin of mine was nearly scandalized by your father,” Olenna said as the tea was poured.

“Scandalized?” she parroted, feeling a smirk touch the corner of her lips. She knew exactly the story she was thinking of. “Surely not.”

“Oh yes. Our father tried to marry her off to Brynden Tully and he said no. ‘No!’ like she was some underfed calf.” She laughed. “It was the most childish fit she’d ever thrown.” Olenna waved away the servants as soon as the plate of lemon cakes was placed upon the table, nearly tipping the bowl of berries. “She eventually married some Vyrwel boy. And your father,” Olenna’s dark eyes suddenly pinned her guest, “married your mother.”

“I’ve heard stories of them, even in The Reach,” Margaery said with a kind smile.

Something tight twisted in her stomach at that, as it always did when a beautiful woman fixed her with a gaze. “I’ve heard a song the Valemen sing. I was unaware that my parents’ union was such fodder for stories across The Realms.” She stirred a bit of honey into her tea, fighting a smile as she always did when she heard of her parents. Some claimed to know her parents as they truly were, but few did. Few knew their story as it actually happened.

“Well, when someone as lofty as a Tully marries a lowborn girl nearly half his age--from Pentos, no less--it is sure to cause quite a stir.” Olenna arched an eyebrow, daring her to refute it. “No matter how pretty.”

“Love is a precarious thing. I cannot fault my father for whom he loved.”

“Love! Pah! Love is for stories and songs.”

“Grandmother, please. I am to be married soon—you said you loved grandfather and I know my lord father loves mother.”

“They learned to appreciate each other, dear girl. There is a difference.”

“I believe in love,” Margaery said, full of conviction but still smiling.

“And you, Lady Tully? Little Fish? Do you believe in love? You are past the age of majority. How you have not yet been married off is a mystery. You are highborn. Wealthy. Beautiful. Did your parents always plan for you to be a septa? A silent sister?” Olenna asked.

A poorly hidden titter nearly sloshed the tea from her cup. “Truly, I do not know.”

The older woman hummed. “I still find it strange that you were not at least introduced to someone after your first flowering.” She sipped her tea. “Have you spoken with your father?”

“No, my lady. He has taken to King Robb’s service.”

“Oh, yes, and to leave your unwed daughter in the Lion’s Den.” She huffed. “Lord Tully, too.”

“Grandmother,” Margaery softly chided.

“It is true and you know it.”

“It is true,” she acknowledged. But she trusted them just as they trusted her.

“But your uncle—he must have had some sense of duty to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Hoster Tully’s duty to me was to see me educated and fed. He succeeded at both. Exceeded at everything else a doting uncle usually deems necessary.” He had allowed her to train with blades and horses when she had excelled past her Maester and Septa’s teachings. It had been hidden from Court at Riverrun. But she had been a natural in that regard, too. She loved to spar and run wild with her horse in the fields and lands around Riverrun. It felt like another life. Or a lifetime ago.

Olenna leaned forward with an odd gleam in her eye. “Oh yes. I’ve heard you were sent as part of the Riverlands delegation when that band of raiders was running amok. The rest of the company left after Eddard lost his head—but not you. You stayed.”

“Leaving Sansa alone in the capital was not an option.”

“Yes, yes. Sansa Stark. The disappeared.”

Margaery shifted in her seat and took a bite of lemon cake, eyes warm but still calculating. But she continued to let her grandmother steer the conversation. “I have been told you were quite close to your cousin’s daughter. She confided in you, did she not? About King Joffrey.”

She took a sip of her tea and regarded the pair. Oh, yes. A formidable match indeed. This was either a half-hearted attempt at tricking her into admitting treason or a true plea for fact.

“Only Sansa would be able to divulge all the small details, I assume. But you will have to do, won’t you? Who else would know better in this wretched city?” Olenna pinned her with another stare. “We’ve heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated Sansa?”

She hummed and spied a man passing by, almost hidden by the bushes and greenery. “King Joffrey, His Grace is very fair and as brave as a lion.”

Olenna huffed as her granddaughter rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, all Lannisters are lions. And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose.”

Margaery finally spoke, leaning forward in her seat, a sea of pretty blue fabric washing across the stone pavers as she moved. “But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? I’m to be his wife; I only want to know what that means.”

Keeping quiet at a time like this was a simple tactic. Needing information made people desperate. Or agitated.

“Are you frightened, child?” Olenna huffed. “No need for that. We’re only women here.”

“And the men in the bushes behind you?”

“Loyal to me and only me.”

“And who are you loyal to, Lady Olenna?”

A small smile touched the woman’s lips. “You are a brazen one, aren’t you? Your father must be so proud.”

And she could not stop her own smile. “He is. I’m sure.”

“I am loyal to my family and my family alone. No harm will come to you, Little Fish.”

That was enough for her, satisfied that the Tyrells were self-serving enough to keep her counsel. “Eddard Stark always told the truth.”

“Yes, he had that reputation,” Olenna said with a nod.

“And they named him traitor and took his head. Joffrey did that. He promised he would be merciful and he cut Eddard’s head off. And he said that was mercy. Then he took Sansa up on the walls and made her look at it.” Rage bubbled under her skin as she remembered how broken Sansa had been, bleeding lip and tearful eyes, as Sandor lead her back to her chambers after that terrible scene. Someone as kind and pure as Sansa never deserved it. On the other hand, Margaery did not either. But there was a steely resolve and cunning tenacity that made her believe the Tyrell girl could bend just about anyone to her will. “He’s a monster.” There, she had said it.

“That’s a pity,” Olenna said, her tone making it seem like she’d had believed all the rumors anyway. Margaery sighed, looking disappointed.

“Will you stop the wedding?” She asked.

Olenna shook her head. “Have no fear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth.”

For a while, they simply spoke about the wedding details and she did find the pair’s wit quite enjoyable. They never minced words and appreciated how they instantly seemed to know that she could hold her own.

“But if I never see another stitch of that red and gold, it will be too soon.”

“It is as if you are marrying a Lannister instead of a Baratheon,” Y/N hummed, plucking a berry from the plate. “Would you prefer the black and gold?”

“She looks quite fetching in gold,” Olenna said with an easy smile, one of the few she noticed the Queen of Thorns only reserved for her granddaughter. “But what of you, Little Fish? Your colors are blue and red.”

“I’ve never been fond of them. My father took the moniker of Blackfish and I have taken it as well. I much prefer black and red.”

“Black and red,” Margaery laughed lightly. “Like a little Targaryen.”

“Well,” she said with a light laugh, “we both have scales.”

Olenna tilted her head to the side, purveying the young woman in front of her for a moment. “Have you ever been to The Reach?”

“No, my lady. I do hope to visit Oldtown one day.” She answered honestly, confused by the change of subject.

Olenna clucked, smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, I have a proposition for you.”

“Lady Tully.” The small group of women turned to see Tywin Lannister strolling into the gardens. “Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery,” he added, with a tip of his head. “May I speak with you, Lady Tully?”

Y/N turned to Olenna, eyes pleading. Please do not make me leave with him.

“Now.” Apparently that wasn’t an option.

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and stood, pressing another smile to her lips. “Of course.” She turned back to Olenna. “Thank you, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, for the tea.”

“Of course, dear. You are always welcome at my table.” The Queen of Thorns, for her all her prickly nature and stinging words, actually looked troubled for the younger woman. “Take Ella with you. No young woman should be unaccompanied.” Another woman, probably one of Olenna or Margaery’s retinue, appeared as her name was said and tipped her head toward Tywin and Y/N in turn.

Y/N nodded at them and made her way to Tywin’s side who quickly made it clear that Ella was to stay several paces back. Ella did as she was told but arched an eyebrow as she made eye contact with her one-time charge. “How can I help you, Lord Tywin?” She let him lead, further into the gardens, the greenery growing higher and thicker with each step. She never wanted to be near the old lion. His reputation preceded him in every way and the fact that he felt the need to be alone with her only served to increase her trepidation. They had been introduced only two days prior, by a smirking Cersei, who had boasted of her father’s achievements at length before mentioning, however briefly, that Y/N was “much more amiable than her cousins.” A tentative compliment, to be sure. The old lion had kissed her hand and smirked at her, rolling her stomach, but she knew how to tip her chin demurely and curtseyed out of practiced politeness before she was dismissed.

But now she was here, in the gardens, largely unaccompanied by the man responsible for the death of the dragons an age ago and the one who set in motion all of her family’s tragedies.

“The Queen speaks highly of you.”

“Her Grace is too kind. It is I who should speak highly of her. She has fed me and housed me when my family has taken the side of traitors.” The words were acid on her tongue. Lies upon lies upon lies. “I am forever in her debt.” Tywin smirked and she fought the urge to let her lip curl in a snarl. “But I’m sure you did not ask me to walk with you to speak of your daughter.”

“You are correct. The Realm is still at war. Your family has held Riverrun for generations. While it is possible for the Crown to raise another family to Lord Paramount of the Trident, it always ends in more bloodshed. But you are smart—loyal.”

The conversation was quickly spiraling into unfamiliar and dangerous territory. “I thank you, my lord. I know the Realm needs stability now more than ever.”

“Yes. Stability.” The word sounded strange on his tongue. “Exactly.”

Frantic footsteps behind them drew their attention and she was thankful for it, whomever it was, and turned to see who had come. It was her handmaiden, a pretty girl named Daisy from the Stormlands who had once been Myrcella’s chambermaid before the princess was shipped off to Dorne.

“My lady!” She was out of breath and then blushed a violent shade of red as she noticed Tywin and quickly dropped into a curtsey. “Lord Hand, I beg your pardon.”

“What is it, girl?”

Ella started to laugh at his displeasure but hid it behind a sneeze.

“You have a raven, my lady. I know you prefer to read them promptly.”

Relief washed over her like a wave. “You are a treasure, Daisy. I thank you.” She turned to Tywin and curtseyed. “I must take my leave, Lord Hand. I am hoping it is from my father or uncle. I do believe I might have reached their hearts and minds in regards to this traitorous alliance with my Northern-wed cousin.”

“I will speak again with you soon, my lady.” He grasped her hand before she could leave and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I wish you luck with your troublesome family.”

She pressed a smile to her lips and knew it appeased him with the smirk he gave her as she curtseyed again and then quickly walked away, Daisy struggling to keep pace. She made sure to touch Ella’s hand in thanks before she rejoined the Tyrell retinue, and then quickly made her way to her chambers.

As the door to her chambers closed, Daisy quickly pulled the letter from her skirts with a small smile. It was still sealed with not a trace of one trying to decipher its inner secrets. She pulled a gold dragon from a small satchel tied about her waist and dropped it into Daisy’s palm, as she did every time the maid gave her a letter and guaranteed her secrecy. While the ravens from Y/N were many, those coming to her were few—a precious few. Daisy was tasked with retrieving them from the rookery before the maester could read them and then make a false report to one of Cersei’s many spies about its contents. The girl was trustworthy, worth her weight in gold—and she paid her thus. Daisy’s own vendetta against the Lannisters had started when the Lannister men stormed the streets of King’s Landing in an attack against Eddard Stark and his Northern bannermen. Jory Cassel, head of Eddard’s personal guard, had been killed. No one knew of Jory’s torrid affair with young Daisy, but Daisy had sworn retribution, something she knew she could use and quickly schooled the maid in how to play the part of dutiful, whispering servant.

The pair would have their vengeance. But it was a long game and Y/N didn’t mind parting with the gold dragons Hoster had sent her with to keep an ally. “Who did you say this was from today?”

“Your cousin, Edmure, my lady. Saying that he wishes you well but cannot see your reasoning.”

“Perfect.”

Daisy preened with the praise and helped herself to Y/N’s jug of wine as she usually did when Y/N read her letters.

The seal popped open and left a smear of red across the parchment. It creaked under her grip, like it had been baked and then left to dry in a desert sun.

Your bird has found her way to Sunspear.

The letter took her a moment to understand—her bird? What could that possibly…Sansa.

Y/N pressed the letter to her chest with a relieved sigh. She’d made it—far faster than she anticipated. She quickly read the rest.

Your letter to my brother Doran was a most welcomed surprise. She is unused to the heat but becoming accustomed to it. She is a loved guest—but she understands she cannot fly in certain halls. We do have golden cats here at the palace. House Nymeros Martell will keep her safe until she is ready to fly home.

The sigil stamped at the edge of the brief message was a sun pierced by a spear, standard of the Dornish ruling house, but a red viper was also wrapped around the tip of the weapon—mouth open and hissing.

“Oh little one,” she mused, finger brushing against the snake. “You have found yourself quite a champion.” Whispers of the Red Viper of Dorne had reached even her chambers in Riverrun. Bold, brash, and deadly, she was well aware of the Prince of Dorne. Oberyn. She always thought it a beautiful name. And if the rumors of his eight bastard daughters were true, he must have a face to match. And, if the rumors that he liked the company of both men and women were true, she’d found a kindred spirit.

“Good news, my lady?”

“Very good, Daisy.” She quickly touched the parchment to the flame of a nearby candle and watched it burn and smolder until only the corner was left and the tips of her fingers were near burnt. She scooped the ash into her palm and dumped it out of the window, watching the evidence of their subterfuge disappear in the wind.

The letters continued come at uneven intervals, keeping her informed at how Sansa was faring in Dorne. His missives, however brief, always left her a bit warm in the face.

Your little bird speaks of you often. Of your sweet nature and devotion to your loved ones. I am honored that you have deemed my House worthy or your trust. We will not fail you.

But I do wish to know you; to know your face as I know your heart.

And then another:

Your bird misses you. My brother has taken her under his tutelage and she is flourishing. I grower curiouser and curiouser about you with each passing day.

Words like that were scrawled across each letter she received and she treasured each new one as much as the last and always hated when she had to burn them to ash. They had become a small bright spot to her strange life in the Red Keep. A secret all her own that made her smile without care.

But, she knew she was being watched when she was not in the haven of her rooms. The Mountain had returned from “the Westerlands” and had resumed his place in King’s Landing—but she knew he had been the leader of the band of raiders in the Riverlands all those months ago. He had been the reason she was here in the Red Keep.

And he surely made his presence known.

Ser Gregor seemed keen to keep her within his sights. The Mountain leered at her and was unrepentant when he would make wildly inappropriate comments in highborn company about the shape of her hips or the heaviness of her breasts. Y/N was sure the only reason he had not approached her was because someone with enough power had expressly forbidden him from touching her.

But he was waiting—she knew. She could feel his eyes on her wherever she moved.

It unnerved her to no end. The small blades she had sewn into her dresses and hidden in her chambers gave her a small bit of comfort but she continued to play the part of a woman unaware of the eyes she caught and persisted to find a small amount of joy in her quiet chats with Daisy and her infrequent letters from Dorne or her quiet prayers to the Seven for the safety of her family.

But that was irrevocably torn asunder with new from The Twins.

The Red Wedding, they called it. Whispered the crude name for it in the halls as she passed. She held her head high and kept her tears silent in the darkness of night, soaking her pillow until she exhausted herself. Her cousin Catelyn, her son—her beautiful Robb who had made her laugh when she’d been fostered at Winterfell for two years—gone. Edmure was imprisoned and her father in the wind. Her family…gone in a single night.

It took the Queen and her father three days to summon the last “loyal” Tully to the throne room. Joffrey was there too, perched on the Iron Throne with a sneer. She curtseyed and smiled at them as if she hadn’t felt like a dagger had wedged its way between her ribs and twisted.

“The King in the North is dead,” Joffrey jeered. “Yes, I’ve heard, Your Grace. A great victory.” Her voice was steady.

That was not the emotion Joffrey wanted nor expected because he continued, “your traitor family—wiped out! Dragged to-”

“That is enough, Joffrey,” Tywin said with an even tone as he eyed her, quickly shutting up his grandson.

“What my family did was treasonous and stupid. Rebelling against the Crown was an act of war. Their deaths are only another act of war. Men die, Your Grace. It is better that it happened sooner rather than later for the betterment of the Realm.”

Joffrey seemed placated and looked so much like his mother as he held his nose in the air. “I see you are a reasonable woman. It is a shame your family could not follow your example.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She could feel the bile turn in her stomach and then rising like a terrible wave up her throat. “Is there anything you require of me?”

“The Freys have been raised up to Lords of Riverrun.”

And now something cold gripped her stomach. But what of what Tywin had said just a few suns ago? “Oh.” It was all she could say.

“But,” Tywin continued, “it is only temporary. Until you find a suitable husband.”

“That is very kind, Lord Tywin.” It was not kind. It was a threat. They meant to shackle her to someone they knew was loyal, too. Shaping the Riverlands into another realm under their thumb. And if they thought she was loyal, they would probably assume she would leap at any match they sought to bring.

Cersei, with almost a sincere smile, stepped down a few steps toward her. “We will make sure the match is agreeable to you, Lady Tully. I would not see you married to a brute.”

That was when her chin wobbled, a crack in her mask. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

A brute. A brute. A brute.

All her life, marriage had seemed like some far off arrangement. Her father had never pressed her to marry and Uncle Hoster had avoided it entirely. Being confronted with its inevitability had shaken something in her marrow.

Daisy had told her to spend some time in the market to “buy something overpriced and shiny” for some semblance of happiness.

“I do it all the time when my thoughts fall to my Jory.” Daisy gave her a soft, sad smile but quickly waved it away. “It is why I have so many beautiful things!”

That is how she found herself surrounded by the thrum of King’s Landing, weaving between people as she looked at various stalls of goods and wares and foods. Daisy had left her side a few moments ago to barter with some woman over a filigreed hair pin. She was in need of a new inks and parchment and possibly a pair of earrings to wear to the wedding ceremony in just a few days. Finding the ink and parchment was easy—and the ink was a pretty blue, almost the Tully shade and she had swiftly purchased three wells of it. Daisy flittered by for a moment to check on her before disappearing into the crowds again.

As she looked over the various “shiny things” Daisy insisted she look at, Y/N collided with someone. The scent of citrus and foreign, floral perfume engulfed her in a cloud as she was caught at the wrists and saved from falling to the cobblestone street.

“Forgive me, my lady,” she quickly said as she righted herself, not even looking at the woman she had nearly toppled. “I must take care to look where I am going.”

A delightful laugh pulled her attention and her tongue quickly glued itself to the roof of her mouth. The woman in front of her was stunning. Dark, luscious hair tied in a loose braid, away from her sharp, unfairly beautiful features, and draped in shades of orange and yellow which only highlighted the tan tone of her skin. She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Cousin Edmure, if he was at her side, would have surely nudged her by now, used to how she would become tongue-tied around women. The Tullys had been aware of her partiality to women—Edmure had once caught her being kissed by one of their sworn houses’ ladies in the dim light of Riverrun’s halls and had simply sighed. She had always been drawn to both men and women. It was just that it seemed like beautiful women greatly outnumbered the men she could tolerate.

And now she was basically awestruck by this woman.

“I am no lady,” the woman said. “And I do believe it was I who stumbled into you.”

The man behind the stall they were standing in front of loudly cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows, silently telling them to buy something or move.

The woman laughed again and grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her down the nearest alleyway and leaned against the cool stone of the building as she released her hold. A basket of flowers was tucked under her arm and golden, swirling earrings dripped from her ears. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“N-no, I just…”

“Have never seen a Dornishman before?” The woman supplied, head tilted to the side with a soft smile.

“No, I mean. I have, but you are very—what did you mean, ‘I am no lady’?” She quickly stopped her poor stumbling and bit at her bottom lip, trying to will the embarrassment away.

“I am a bastard. Born of passion.”

“Oh.” She paused. And then held out her hand. “I’m Y/N Tully.” Being a bastard or low-born mattered very little to Y/N. Her mother’s own low-born, foreign standing had been held over her head for as long as she had remembered. It wasn’t fair. Her parents loved each other, loved her. It was a mindset that made her differ from most of her peer group but she did not mind. (Even when her cousin Catelyn had told her that Jon Snow, Eddard’s bastard, was not to be associated with. She had found him great company and loved his soft, low voice when they would speak in the cover of moonlight at Winterfell. It all seemed like ages ago, now.)

The woman paused, eyebrow cocked, before she smiled and took her hand, soft, long fingers curling around her own and Y/N shivered. “Ellaria Sand.”

“What brings you to King’s Landing?” She asked, finding her footing with speaking with the woman—finally. “Surely it is not the markets. I have heard the bazaars of the Shadow City are one of the wonders of the Seven Kingdoms.” She lowered her voice. “And I assume Dorne smells much better.”

Ellaria laughed. “It does. That is why I came to the markets.” She held up her basket of flowers. “For something sweet to smell in my rooms while I am in the capital.” Roses and lavender and little red flowers known as dragons breath were piled high and already smelled sweet and fragrant.

“Wonderful choices. I have resorted to keeping perfumed oil under my nose.” She grimaced at revealing her silly secret. “But I shall not keep you any longer. My apologies for pulling you from your day.”

Ellaria pulled a rose from her bundle and quickly plucked the thorns and cut the stem before tucking it behind the younger woman’s ear. “Apologize for nothing, Lady Tully.” She stood straight and smiled, making her poor heart flutter. “I shall see you again.” And then she walked away, leaving Y/N with a flower in her hair and her heart in her throat.

Olenna was sitting behind a dark wood desk as Y/N was led into her chambers. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains and the room smelled of cinnamon and tea. She waved a hand, signaling the younger woman to sit at the chair across from her and for the servant to leave. As the door closed, Olenna offered her a bowl of berries which she quickly helped herself to with a soft ‘thank you’ and matching smile.

“I will be frank. I know the Lannisters wish to marry you off to some oaf of a man who will do anything they say.”

She choked on a berry.

“You are a smart girl, Little Fish. Far smarter than you let anyone see.”

“Lady Olenna-”

“You have helped my family, let us help you. While I would prefer to present you to Willas, he is heir to Highgarden and Tywin Lannister is sure he would see you as the Lady of Riverrun. We will present Loras as a potential suitor for you. He would make a fine husband for you and I know you will understand his leanings.”

Without a berry to choke on, she now wheezed out a breath. Ser Loras’ leanings were an open secret to many. While it did not bother Y/N any, she didn’t understand the logic. “I am failing to see how this will help my cause.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at women—far more often than you look at men. You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

“Hm.” Was all She could say. Denying it was a fruitless and draining endeavor. Olenna seemed to be at peace with Loras and his proclivity for the male form so she didn’t see the need.

“So, you two could put to rest any sort of whispers and then reign in the Riverlands without the press of the Lannisters at your throats.”

“And of children? Heirs?” Children had always been a hope for her, not out of duty but she had always wanted a little one to hold and call her own.

“I’m sure you two could work something out,” Olenna tittered. “You’re resourceful.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh. “I will take your offer into consideration, my lady.”

Olenna waved her away with a small smile and Y/N left her rooms feeling a little strange. It was a blessing to have an ally such as Olenna Tyrell, but knowing that she would not truly see or help in the goal to see the Lannisters wiped from existence left something sour in her mouth.

The only true allies she could identify, outside of her family, were the Martells.

Just the thought of Sansa being safe—being alive—usually had her standing a little straighter. And now she had Oberyn, the faceless-but-surely-handsome Oberyn, to lift her spirits, too. It had been some time since his last letter, stating that Sansa had taken to reading to his youngest daughter, Loreza. It seemed Sansa had found a happy life in Dorne.

She just hoped she could make it last.

She rounded the corner, nearly at her chambers when the familiar scraping of metal against stone stopped her. It was the Sabaton and Greave of a heavy armor, stomping through the halls of the Keep. And she knew who those steps belonged to—only one man could shake the ground like that.

“Tully.”

She froze.

Gregor Clegane stood at end of the hall, just in front of her chamber door with his helmet shoved beneath his arm. He sneered as he looked at her and, despite the distance between them, she felt like she could feel him breathing, sticky and disgusting, against her neck.

“Clegane.” She spit out the name. Her heart was thundering behind her ribs in an angry beat. The very sight of him made her wish for a blade. While Sandor was (reluctantly) kind at heart, there was nothing redeemable about his older brother. His three dead wives, the suspicious death of his younger sister, Sandor’s mutilating burn. All of it was Gregor. His soul was charred ash.

His face split in a sneer. “You have been hiding from me, girl.”

She held up her chin, defiant. “I hide from nothing. Certainly not a mindless sword such as you.”

His sneer disappeared, lips curling to bare his teeth, yellow and crooked. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“I’m sure you have. But not me.” Her fists curled into the skirts of her dress, slick with sweat. “You will never touch me.”

“I will break you, girl. Have you screaming beneath me like a common whore.”

“Lady Tully!” Tywin Lannister strode into the hall, light eyes focused solely on her.

And she had never been so thankful to see the old lion. “Lord Tywin.”

His gaze turned to The Mountain and his thin lips pressed into a hard line. “You are dismissed, Ser Gregor.”

The knight bowed and walked away, but not without raking his eyes over her one last time. She tried not to shiver as her stomach rolled in disgust.

“He is a fine swordsman but an embarrassment to high-born company.”

That was an understatement. “How may I help you, Lord Tywin? I assumed the Small Council was still in congress at this hour.”

“We adjourned early.” He stepped closer and she had to will herself to not take a step back out of reflex. Just as she was with Gregor, she was alone with Tywin Lannister. She had traded one monster for another. “Walk with me.” He grasped her arm and gave her very little choice in the matter, almost dragging her through the stone halls. “His Grace’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell is in a few short days. As you will be the only member of your household attending, I would deem it wise to have you sit at the head table, at our side. It would not be appropriate for you to be unattended.”

The fact that he seemed to believe his own logic was infuriating. It was only exacerbated by the fact that she could not refute it. But she knew there was more than her propriety at stake. “That is most gracious, Lord Tywin. But would it be polite? I am not of His Grace’s family nor a Tyrell.”

Tywin stopped and forced her to do the same. He turned to her and his cold fingers slid down her arms, barely touching before he grasped her hands and held them up, just under his chin so she could feel his breath against her fingers. “Your concern for my family’s reputation is honorable, Lady Tully. But I insist. You will sit beside us.” He looked her in the eye and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hands.

She quickly curtseyed. “Of course, Lord Tywin. As you wish.”

“Wonderful.” He drew out the syllables. “I have one other gift for you. I would have you attend the Small Council meetings so that you may learn how to properly govern Riverrun when we seat you on your ancestral throne.”

The invitation was shocking. Very few women were privy to such gatherings and she knew, in any other life, that she would be enamored with the idea and anyone who offered it so openly. But this was Tywin Lannister. And Lannisters always pay their debts. But he was never going to let her refuse. She knew it. “It would be an honor, Lord Tywin. I thank you for the guidance.”

He smirked, as if knowing he’d won, and they said their goodbyes before she quickly walked to her chambers, desperate for her original destination. She flung open the door and then quickly locked it behind her. Hot, angry tears blurred her vision as she leaned her forehead against the wood. They slid down her cheeks in thick rivulets and only served to make her angrier. She pushed away from the door and flopped onto her bed with a huff, feeling very much like a child—petulant and powerless.

Everything was quickly slipping away from her and out of her control. All of it, all of the placating gestures, the twisting of her morals to survive to help Sansa escape, the planning. All of it. All of it was falling apart. She should have left with Sansa. Everything would have been easier. She curled a pillow into tried to will herself to sleep.

“Will you be my champion, Ser Aemon?” She tried to make her voice airy and breathy, how she assumed Queen Naerys had spoken. They were deep in the wolfswood outside Winterfell. But the colors were wrong. Instead of the cold tones of white and grey and brown, everything was red and gold and orange, like she was seeing it through candlelight. She watched as her younger-self placed a crown of twisted branches over her head with a giggle she tried to suppress. Both of them were just past their one-and-ten nameday and had taken to making mischief as often as they could. Their favorite stories were of Queen Naerys and Ser Aemon, the Dragonknight. Their history was filled with tales of valor and heartache--perfect fodder for their growing imaginations.

Robb kneeled in front of her, taking his role very seriously. “Yes, my queen.”

Young Y/N stifled another giggle but quickly attempted to regain her composure, staying in her role. “Arise, my Dragonknight.”

Robb did as he was told, fighting a smile of his own before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Y/N took the wooden sword from its place on a broken stump and handed it to him with a flourish and he grasped it and held it aloft, yelling into the cold, morning air as if he had already won a great battle. His cheeks were flushed against the cold but his lips were warm as he pressed them against her hand. She could remember it all so easily. “I shall avenge your honor, my queen. I swear it.”

“Lord Robb!” Maester Luwin called out, voice echoing in the forest. It echoed and echoed and echoed and grew louder until all it was, was a roar that shook the trees.

Robb suddenly grabbed her hand and started tugging her through the trees. “Run, my queen. Or we’ll be forced to suffer more Valyrian lessons!” The trees twisted as the pair ran away, forming a wall and climbing higher and higher into the sky until it blotted out the sun. Then the trees twisted and reached out to her and their wooden fingers circled her throat and choked the air from her lungs.

As she woke with a gasp and the dying light now filtering through her small window, she could still hear Robb’s laughter ringing in her ears.

The Small Council Chamber was nothing she had dreamt of when she had let herself believe she could one day be powerful. It was just a stone room with a few windows and a large table. She counted the chairs and frowned when she couldn’t place all the titles that went with each.

“You are early.”

She leapt at the sound of the voice and quickly turned at curtseyed in front of Cersei who smirked and settled herself into the chair closest to the head seat. “I wanted to be sure I was not late, Your Grace. It is a great honor to be invited.”

Cersei looked at her and her smirk widened. “Yes. It is, isn’t it? I asked my lord father to invite you. When the Riverlands are yours to govern, we would not have you mishandle them.” She pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit.”

She quickly did. “I do not want to disappoint you, Your Grace. But, would it be imprudent for me to take notes? To see how the duties are presented.” There was a bit of parchment and ink she could use, sitting on the edge of the table. Cersei nodded and Y/N had to will herself not to scramble for it. While this invitation would surely be used against her at a later date, there was no use in completely forgetting what happened in the chamber. “While we are waiting, Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?”

“The last time you went to fetch me wine, Lady Tully, you nearly died. I would have you close for now.”

The quill in her hand nearly snapped at that, even if delivered in Cersei’s usual droll. An admission of somewhat reluctant care for her well-being had not been what she had hoped to earn when she woke this morn, but it was definitely a welcome surprise, even if it did make her all the more suspicious of the Lannisters’ intentions. All she said in response was, “Yes, Your Grace.”

And Cersei seemed fine with that.

Other men filtered in, casting questioning looks in Y/N’s direction but never voiced them as they looked at Cersei at her side.

Well, except for Grand Maester Pycelle. “Are you lost, Lady Tully? This is no place for a lady!”

“I requested her presence.” Everyone scrambled to their feet as Tywin entered the chamber. “She is to see how a functioning government is kept.” Tywin looked at her as he took his seat and she quickly glanced down at her empty bits of parchment.

Pycelle muttered something else under his breath but took his seat and cast a side-eyed glance at Y/N one more time before the meeting actually started.

Soon, the parchment was filled with notes and she was scrambling to tidy them as the meeting was adjourned. To his credit, it seemed like Tywin was the only one who knew how to have a functioning council but it was still a mess. But perhaps he intended it to be like that—so he could be the smartest man in the room.

“My lord,” she started as the others had started to leave. “I noticed there are more seats than people. Will there be more lords on the council after the wedding?”

Tywin looked at the empty chairs and then back at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Everything is a piece to played, my lady. You’ll see.”

He escorted her back to her rooms and left her with another kiss to her hand and a promise to invite her back to the Small Council “soon.” And she was happy to be alone again. Daisy had been excused after helping her dress and ready for the day, leaving her by herself.

It had been almost two weeks since she’d received her last letter from Dorne. It was probably for the best; it wasn’t as if she had any family left to write to her so it would be suspicious if she had received a letter from the Riverlands now. She hoped Sansa and Oberyn were well. Safe. Happy. All of it. If she couldn’t have it, she hoped someone else could. When she was feeling particularly melancholy, she would pull the rose she’d received from the mysterious and beautiful Ellaria from its hiding spot under her carefully, gently folded chemises and press it under her nose. The scent was faint now, but it still brought a smile to her face. (She had never actually found the earrings she was searching for that day.) After the meeting, she had stayed to the quiet of her rooms instead of the godswood. The chattering from the guests arriving for the wedding in the gardens had bled into that small haven and forced her retreat if she wanted to save her sanity. She was reading a book on the War of the Ninepenny Kings when there was a knock at her door. She grumbled and placed her book down before walking to the door and hauling it open, prepared to see some Lannister or Tyrell handmaiden requesting her presence somewhere—but instead, she saw a handsome young man with black hair pulled into a small bun on the back of his head. His robes were tan with golden thread with a burnt orange undershirt left open. “Lady Tully,” he said, a soft accent touching her ears. “I have a delivery for you. From Dorne.” His smile was small, but knowing. “Prince Oberyn send his regards, my lady.” Before she could even thank him, he disappeared and left an ornate chest just on the inside of her chamber door. The chest was of a reddish wood, inlaid with golden suns and thick, bold metal strappings. It smelled faintly of citrus and was slick with a fine varnish.

Before she could even open the chest, Daisy had scurried into her rooms, cheeks flush with worry. “The Queen is on her way, my lady.”

And she was right, Cersei arrived soon with a thinly veiled look of curiosity in her green eyes as she looked at the chest. “A gift from Dorne?”

Y/N and Daisy quickly curtseyed as Y/N easily thought of a lie. “Not quite, Your Grace. I wanted to have the finest gown for His Grace’s wedding to Lady Margaery, behind yours of course. And my dresses are much more suited for the climate of the Riverlands. The seamstresses in the capital were all far too busy for my liking and I wanted to be sure that I would not embarrass myself with a poorly-hewn frock.”

“My seamstress could have found room for you.”

She pressed a look of shock to her face. “Your Grace is far too charitable. I have taken enough of your time and resources when my family has caused the Crown such irksome troubles.”

Cersei looked pleased with her answer, nose held a little higher in the air. “You are a credit to your bloodline, Y/N. But do ask for her when the next opportunity arises. I would not have you dressed like a Dornish tart.”

Anger rolled her stomach but she smiled as if she had been complimented. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will.”

Cersei excused herself and Daisy finally lifted her head from its tuck to her chest and she softly shut the door, rolling her eyes the entire time.

“Help me to unseal this.”

Daisy quickly did as she was told and they attempted to pry it open but were unsuccessful until Y/N gave in and pulled a knife from under her featherbed and cut the seal.

“Oh…my lady. That is a mighty fine dress.”

And it was. Nestled in the chest was a soft, sunshine yellow samite dress of a Dornish style. It would show off an ample amount of cleavage with a near-scandalous neckline but did preserve most of her modesty with long bell sleeves made of matching Myrish lace. Small, golden suns were stitched throughout along with silver stars and moons, and she knew a train of modest length would follow her even with her heeled shoes. It seemed her lie had been prophetic.

Daisy bent and pulled something else from the chest: a neatly folded bit of parchment.

Y/N carefully set her dress on her bed before taking the letter. She unfolded it and laughed even as more heat took to her cheeks.

So that I may know you on sight.

The familiar viper was pressed to the corner in red ink.

The date of the wedding had arrived and she grew more nervous with each passing moment, even as Daisy attempted to make her laugh as she helped her into her dress and uncomfortable heeled boots.

“You are not the bride, my lady. Cease your shaking.” Daisy grasped at one of her hands and squeezed. “And if the whispers I hear are true, your Prince had been in the capital for a few days now.”

“You are not helping, Daisy. Why would that information give me comfort?”

The girl laughed and finished lacing the black closure of the dress with a flourish. “You are finished. Lady Margaery has asked for you in the Maidenvault. You must hurry.”

She squeezed Daisy’s hands in thanks and told her to help herself to the wine and relax in her chambers for the rest of the day before leaving and quickly making her way to the Maidenvault. It was awash with Tyrell green and gold and nearly vibrating with energy as women went this way and that, preparing for the ceremony.

“You’ve made it!” Margaery exclaimed, seeing her through the crowd.

She quickly made her way to the side of the soon-to-be-queen and curtseyed. “How may I help you-”

“You look quite beautiful. Dornish, is it not?” Margaery reached out and trailed a finger across one of the suns just above her breast. If she felt her poor heart leap, Margaery blessedly didn’t mention it.

“It is.”

“Nearly scandalous,” Margaery said with a wink.

And Y/N nearly snorted at that—Margaery’s dresses were, largely, much more bold.

“But don’t change. It will be nice to see some color beside red and gold on my wedding day.” Maegaery squeezed her hands and then scowled as a handmaiden shoved a pin into her hair.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Y/N said, noticing how Margaery preened with the title, “I was told you asked me here for a reason.”

Margaery smiled again. “Yes, I wanted to personally ask you to save a dance for my brother, Ser Loras. He has been asking to make your acquaintance for some time now.” The twinkle in her eye did little to settle the knots in Y/N’s stomach. Almost everyone in the entire room, and there were quite a few, had taken a look at her then, at the mention of Loras’ name.

“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Margaery suddenly pulled her into a hug, ignoring the squawk her handmaiden let out as she had just about placed another pin, and held her tight. “You’ve made me very happy, Little Fish.”

“I am glad to hear it. It is your wedding day, after all,” Y/N said as she pulled back. “Now, you must excuse me.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, still smiling. “I shall see you in a moment.”

Y/N quickly exited, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving on her way out form the Tyrell retinue, and made her way toward the Great Sept of Baelor, filling in with the crowds and finding her place. It was more toward the front of the crowd than she had anticipated and her thoughts once again turned to how the Lannisters were planning something. At least with the Tyrells, she knew whom she could expect. Lords and Ladies from the Westerlands were at her back and was soon greeted by Ser Kevan Lannister and his wife, Lady Dorna Swyft in her row. They greeted her warmly, mentioning how both Cersei and Tywin mentioned her and she did her best to act pleased.

A flash of gold caught her eye a few rows ahead and she turned to see a golden headdress, rows of golden chain looped together, placed over a head of shiny, inky black hair. It was preposterous to believe it could be Ellaria, she knew. But, oh, she hoped. The man next to the woman with the golden headdress was handsome, from what she could see of his face. A strong nose and pouty lips that smiled as he looked at his companion and he was draped in a soft tan fabric that shimmered only slightly when the sunlight hit it just so. Perhaps it was Oberyn. Again, a fanciful thought. But his letter and the dress had made his intention clear that he would be at the wedding and there, of course, had been the usual whispers that Prince Oberyn had travelled in Prince Doran’s stead to represent Dorne during the festivities. He could and should be here.

“It is a marvelous moment, no?” Kevan asked, whispering in her ear. “The dawn of a new era.”

“Indeed,” Y/N said as the soft music started, signaling the arrival of the bride. “It is.”

It was a pleasant surprise to see she was to be seated beside Tyrion and Tommen at the festivities following the ceremony. While still Lannisters, they were decidedly the best of the brood. Tyrion made her laugh and Tommen was kind.

“Have you tried the boar, my prince? It is quite good.”

Tommen speared some of the meat from her plate with a playful smile as Tyrion softly, fondly chided him. “It is good, my lady.” The young prince quickly stole another bite.

“My lady,” Tyrion started as he stood from his chair, “would you be so kind as to join me for the next dance?” He held out a hand toward her with a small smile.

She did not want to. Not because of his stature but because of his family and how it echoed in her mind that the Lannisters were set on marrying her off. He was kind, it was true, but that did not make this easier. “Of course, Lord Tyrion.” She stood and grasped his hand, letting him lead her away from the large red and gold tent and into the fray of couples arranging themselves in two lines as the musicians readied for the next song.

The music started and she quickly tried to remember the steps that this dance required. A few steps forward toward her partner then a turn to the side to grasp a hand, turn once, twice, then step back and the partner on the left would step to the side and the dance would begin again with a new partner, again and again, until the entire line had been turned and the original partners were reunited again. For what it was worth, Y/N had to admit that Tyrion chose a smart dance to share with her—they hardly touched or spent any time looking at each other. Almost as if he knew her discomfort.

He bowed to her and she to him and they began the dance. He was mindful not to step on her gown as they circled each other and he gave her another fond smile before they switched partners. There was an older Lord from the Stormlands, followed by a knight from the Westerlands and then a familiar green and gold brocade gathered her attention as she stepped in front of her next partner.

Ser Loras looked relieved as he recognized her. “Lady Tully.”

“Ser Loras.” He was undoubtedly handsome, with his soft blonde curls and dancing, blue eyes and Y/N could let herself pretend, for a moment that she could be happy being married off to someone like him— strictly aesthetically, anyway. “I have been told to save you a dance by our new queen.”

He laughed as he grasped her hand and they turned. “Would you?”

“Yes, Ser Loras. I’d be happy to.”

He smiled again and they finished their turn before the next partner came. The dance eventually finished and Tyrion took her hand again and led her back to their table. Tommen now had a heaping pile of the boar on his plate and was devouring it. She stole a bite from his plate and he laughed. His laughter, however, drew the eye of Cersei and Tywin Lannister.

They both looked at her at the far table and she pretended not to notice as she laughed with Tommen and let Tyrion fill her chalice with more wine. It would be better if they didn’t think she was putting on a show.

Another set of musicians stepped up in front of Joffrey and Margaery and played another round of ‘The Rains of Castamere.’ It had been the fifth one already and it was hardly an hour into the festivities. Joffrey lobbed a handful of coin at them and sent them on their way.

Another song for the dancing couples went by, and another followed. The wine was making her head swim the smallest bit as she spotted Loras making his way toward her. Olenna was at his side, required to make the introduction for niceties sake and then they were off.

The musicians called out the dance and Y/N had to arch an eyebrow at Loras. This one would keep her close, almost intimate, but still playful enough that it wouldn’t be imprudent for mixed company. He shrugged and held her hands in his, easily guiding her through the steps. “Surely you know what they’re planning,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh yes. We could make quite a match.” She twirled under his arm, following the steps, and let herself be caught in his arms, her back to his chest as the dance continued. “But why would you agree to such a thing, Loras?” Her voice was low. “King Renly…” Words had to be chosen carefully. “You loved him. I’ve heard tales about it. Why would you tether yourself to someone you could never love?”

The knight’s grip tightened just a fraction. “When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

And her heart broke with the pain in his voice. Thankfully, the dance needed her to turn and face him, placing her hands over one of his shoulders as she kicked, letting her dress flutter and glisten in the sunlight. “We can be friends, can we not? To find some happiness in this arrangement?”

He smiled then and almost laughed as she nearly missed a step. “I would like that, very much.”

They finished the dance, her heart a little lighter than it had been and he gently took her hand and started to lead her toward her table before she noticed him blushing. Y/N tried to find where he was looking and found Ellaria hand-feeding berries to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. It was a wonderful surprise to realize the woman she had been ogling during the ceremony had been Ellaria. But who was the man? Seeing him in the sunlight, completely, was beautiful. Just as beautiful as Ellaria. No wonder they seemed so besotted with each other.

“That is Prince Oberyn,” Loras whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Why lie? Anyone with eyes could see how he was meant to be painted, immortalized for everyone to revere.

“Shall I introduce you? I made his acquaintance earlier today.” There was a slight shyness to Loras’ tone that made her smile. He was like a little boy with an infatuation.

And she would finally meet him. But would their easy companionship filter over from their letters? Nerves had twisted her stomach when she thought of Oberyn not deeming her worthy of his beautiful word any longer. “I would be grateful.”

Loras led her through the crowd and Ellaria spotted them first. A happy smile touched her lips and she whispered something in Oberyn’s ear. He let his gaze slowly slide over to them, almost disinterested but she could see the playful glint in his eyes. And his own smile widened when he looked at her. Ellaria slid off his lap and walked over to them, dragging Y/N from Loras’ side.

“Finally. Someone worth speaking to.” She pressed a kiss to both of Y/N’s quickly warming cheeks and tugged her toward the table. “Come, Ser Loras. You can join us.”

Loras awkwardly sat across from Oberyn as Ellaria planted Y/N between herself and Oberyn, a hand already fond of tracing the suns stitched into her dress. “I was unaware you knew Lady Tully.”

“We met in the market. She has yet to meet my prince.”

“Yes, well, Prince Oberyn, I present-”

“Lady Tully. Yes.” He grasped one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to kiss the tips of her fingers, somehow making a shiver shoot down her spine as he never broke eye contract. “I have heard of you. And that is a fine dress. Dornish, isn’t it?” He smiled at the last question.

“It is—I’ve never had such a beautiful dress. I’m very fortunate. And, of course, it is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Oberyn. I hope your travels to the capital were pleasant.” Y/N was proud of herself for keeping her voice so steady despite his piercing stare. Perhaps it was the hidden joke, the secret in their verbal volley who made her a little more at ease. None of her nerves had been proven correct just yet. And she hoped they never would.

“The Capital is never pleasant, and the journey was tedious. But the company, it seems, to have finally evolved into something enjoyable.” He then smirked at Loras and pulled a berry from the bowl in front of him and tossed it into his mouth.

Loras’ pretty cheeks filled with pink and he averted his eyes and the cogs in Y/N’s mind quickly started to turn. “Ellaria, I have heard there is quite a display of Lysene contortionists somewhere around here. Shall we let the men talk?”

Ellaria laughed and let a finger trail across Y/N’s cheek. “I know exactly where these contortionists are. I will show you.” She stood and Y/N followed and they linked arms as they set off away from the dancing couples and the food tables. Ellaria’s hand covered hers as it rested on her arm. “That was very kind of you, my lady. To let Oberyn have his fun with that pretty knight.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N chanced a glance over her shoulder to see that Loras had switched to the other side of the table and Oberyn was whispering something in his ear, “it seemed Loras had been a bit smitten and who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“You do not mind that he likes both? My Oberyn?” The question was asked quietly, Ellaria’s lips close to her ear.

“I like both. It is comforting to know there is another like me.” And it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest to finally say it aloud. Of course, the Tullys knew of it, but they had very little patience to understand it so she had been forced to only live it in shadowed corners. And when she had moved to King’s Landing, it wasn’t an option for her to explore. There was an easy air about Ellaria, open and honest. That is perhaps why Y/N had felt so nonplussed to reveal her own secret.

“More than just Oberyn,” Ellaria said, her grip tightening just a fraction.

And Y/N’s heart leapt and bounced. “Truly?” The word was almost strangled from her throat as they neared the area of the fire-breathers and contortionists and jugglers, slipping through a display of the gifts the Brat King had received from his guests.

“You are not alone,” Ellaria whispered with a teasing smile. But then another question had Ellaria’s brow arching. “And what of your thoughts of loving more than one?”

“More than one person at a time? I have not loved one person. I would not know how to love two.” She frowned as she thought of it. There was love for her family, and a companionable affection for people like Daisy. But love? Real, romantic love? It had always been a distant daydream. Stolen kisses in shadows from pretty ladies and the occasional second son of a lord was as close as she had ever come to it.

“There is love in your heart, I know it. Can feel it. Passion waiting to be unleashed.” They turned a corner and a burst of fire greeted them. They had found their destination. The fire-breather danced away, leaving the scent of smoke and ash behind. “In Dorne, we embrace our passion. Lords and ladies have their paramours and lovers and take what they want.” She let her fingers trail down to take Y/N’s hand and raised it to her lips and kissed the pads of her fingers, just as Oberyn had done a moment ago.

Y/N swallowed the hard lump in her throat as Ellaria’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers. “Dorne sounds like a paradise.”

“It can be. If one has the right soul for it.” The older woman stood straight and continued to lead her toward the tables filled with contortionists.

“Do I?” Y/N asked. Could she be happy in a place like Dorne, unfettered by the social constructs she’d been born into?

Ellaria looked at her and smiled, wolfish and hungry. She said nothing and pulled her along to see the men and women twist and turn in almost unnatural ways and would murmur the position names in her ear like an illicit secret.

All of it was bubbling into something strange under Y/N’s skin, making her warm with each passing syllable and each new position they encountered only coiled something tighter until they were all a blur in her mind and all she could hear was Ellaria’s melodic hum in her ear and smell her perfume. Y/N was not so innocent to not understand that she was roused and yearning for some indelicate headiness, but she had never before been so close to achieving it. Only her own fingers had given her reprieve in the past but now Ellaria was staring at her like a tiger faced with a meal and she couldn’t wait to be devoured.

“Come. Surely there is a quiet place for you to catch your breath.” Ellaria had not let go of her hand yet and it seemed unlikely she would do so now as they walked through the masses, slipping out of the festival grounds and into the gardens. It was decidedly quieter but the music from the bards and musicians and the laughter of the crowds still filtered through the greenery, now muted and soft. The pair walked for a moment before finding a corner with a stone wall in the shadows, a reprieve from the heat of the sun.

And, as Y/N went to thank her companion for the respite, Ellaria pushed her against a wall and pressed her mouth to hers and stole her breath. Coaxing her mouth was easy and Ellaria almost laughed as Y/N whined against her lips. The quiet desperation that she had felt was now bursting forth as Ellaria easily coaxed her lips apart and delved her tongue into her mouth.

“Responsive, that’s good,” Ellaria hummed as he broke for a moment. Her hands slid from the other woman’s shoulders down her sides to grab handfuls of the yellow fabric at her hips and dragged her waist closer and wedging a thigh between hers. A choked breath pushed through Y/N’s lips at the delicious pressure against her core. “You taste so sweet.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N gasped, not knowing what she was begging for. To stop. To never stop. “Please.”

Ellaria suddenly grabbed at the back of Y/N’s neck to pull her head closer, angling her abruptly so she could kiss her thoroughly, devour her with spit-slicked lips and smiling teeth and dominating every sense she had despite Y/N’s some-what apparent lack of experience. And Y/N could have sworn she’d never felt such ecstasy in a touch like this—until Ellaria trailed her fingers against Y/N’s heaving chest, feeling the warmth she exuded and how soft her skin was before dipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N’s breast and this time she did laugh as Y/N gasped again. She kneaded her and felt Y/N’s heart hammering and racing as she continued to draw whines and whimpers from her pretty little mouth. Deft fingers found her pebbled nipple and circled and tugged again and again before once again starting her slow torture of simply massaging the tortured flesh.

Y/N’s hands tried to find purchase in anything, the cold stone behind her, the fabric of Ellaria’s dress, but finally grabbed at Ellaria’s neck so she could thread her fingers into the hair at the back of her head, barely mindful of the golden chains in her locks, and hold her close—she needed her closer.

“You sing so prettily for me,” Ellaria said as her nose trailed against Y/N’s cheek, her other hand still anchored around her neck. “I’ve barely touched you.” A final squeeze to her chest and then her fingers retreated…only to start to trail down toward her skirts. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Y/N blindly answered. “Touch me.”

“Oh.”

Y/N instantly stiffened at being caught, her own hands pulling away from the other woman.

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid,” came a voice just over Ellaria’s shoulder.

Ellaria’s lovely touch withdrew and she carefully pulled Y/N’s dress back to cover her chest with a wink before she turned, almost leisurely, to see who had stumbled upon them.

Loras was blushing a pretty shade of red and looking steadfastly up into the clouds while Oberyn simply smirked at the pair of women. The sight was a welcome one—surely these two could keep a secret.

“You’ve nearly made a mess of our young Lady Tully, my love,” Oberyn said as he stepped forward to grasp at Ellaria’s hand and he tugged her close to press a slow kiss against her lips. “And does she taste as pretty as she looks?”

“She does,” Ellaria agreed as she looked back at Y/N who was still pressed against the garden wall. “A taste from the source would be much sweeter.” The innuendo was not lost on anyone present.

“I’m sure it would.” Oberyn’s hand curled around Ellaria’s hip and he drew her closer. “But that will have to wait. Her absence has been noted by too many.”

Y/N sagged with the news. It had to have been the Lannisters. No one else would mind if she disappeared with a fellow guest for a few moments at a celebration such as this. “Thank you for finding us first, my prince.” She brushed her hands against her skirts to help them lay flat and straightened her shoulders before pressing the back of her hand to her cheeks to help them cool before starting to walk toward the banquet again. Only to be stopped by a roughened hand on her arm. Oberyn’s grip was not hard, she knew she could wriggle out of it without any effort.

“Your appearance will not keep a secret in that state, my lady.” Then, without much fanfare or warning, he started to gently right her mussed clothes and straightened the filigreed back across the top of her head to once again give her the air of a civilized lady.

His touch was always gentle, taking care to never pull or tug too harshly, and Y/N felt her heart trying to escape her chest for the second time that day and leap into the hands of a Dornishman. She tried to focus on the golden chain around his neck instead of staring at his face but then all she managed to do was appreciate his defined chest and how he smelled like ripe berries and sandalwood with a touch of spice she could not place. His full lips were parted and nearly pursed as he worked, making them ever more tempting and she felt foolish to even let such a thought cross her mind when she hardly knew him.

But, she hardly knew Ellaria who had her panting like a whore only moments earlier. He was every bit as entrancing as Ellaria, she was rue to admit. His gentle touch only exacerbated how flustered she felt. The pair was dangerous.

“Shall I pass inspection, my prince?” She asked, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking as he finished.

“Tell them you’ve been enjoying the less polite entertainment if they ask where you’ve gone, my lady.” It was said with a smirk and his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, making her shiver again.

“Thank you for the guidance.” She bid them adieu and squeezed Loras’ arm as she walked away and rejoined the festivities.

A/N: All right...so, that’s part one. I’ve tried to draw on a few plot lines from the books that didn’t make it into the television series, but if you have any questions, please just ask. I welcome feedback. The next chapter will (hopefully) be shorter and out soon. Cross your fingers.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn x ellaria #game of thrones #asoiaf

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fromtheboundlesssea · 3 years

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The Pack Survives Chapter 13

Lysa II

The next day there was a festival with stalls and games for the younger children who had come with their families and for some of the smallfolk that surrounded the keep.

Lysa relished in this time that she could spend with her siblings.

Catelyn was soon to be married and Celia would leave them once the tourney was over to serve the queen. Edmure’s lessons would become more consuming in his time. And Lysa would probably become engaged soon enough and married off to the highest figurative bidder.

Lysa knew her father was determined to make as many connections as he possibly could. They were the youngest of the noble houses in comparison to the Starks, the Baratheons, the Arryns and so forth. They had been bannermen, they had never been kings and had sided with Aegon the Conqueror when he took the Riverlands. They had been rewarded for such loyalty and, even though they had no memories of ruling as the other paramount houses did, they had risen to become their equals.

Her father wanted for them to reach a more equal footing. Now, one of his daughters was to become the Lady of Winterfell, bearing children with the blood of kings in their veins. Celia was to serve the queen and it was quite possible that she would be given a husband of high standing. Princess Elia’s eldest brother was married with a child already, but she had another brother who would be equally as powerful in terms of politics.

Lysa would be bound to a man soon. An heir to a great house, perhaps. Or a second son—perhaps Stannis Baratheon.

She wasn’t sure.

All Lysa knew was that she would cherish the moments she had left with her siblings, before they went their separate ways.

Continue on Ao3

#ned stark #ned stark x oc #celia tully #brandon stark x catelyn stark #brandon stark x catelyn tully #brandon stark #catelyn tully #catelyn stark #lysa tully #lysa arryn #lyanna stark #benjen stark #edmure tully #the pack survives #my writing #celiaverse

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j-morgan-fly · 4 years

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Shaena Targaryen!lives/Ned Stark

The visual in a companion to my rare pair story, inspired by Wallofprompts short wips of the above paring from their “Another Chance to Win The Fight Universe” and also inspired by the “Celiaverse” works of Fromtheboundlesssea.

Please enjoy this glimpse into the first chapter, soon to be posted to my AO3.

Shaena Targaryen was the third child and only daughter of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella’s four living children. She was a genial, practical and well humored young woman that was charm at court and a lovely vision to whom the admirers of her house found great joy to look upon. Her greatest amusement at court was to help her mother arrange happy marriages. She was also her mothers dearest companion and joy. She lived a rich, comfortable life but that was not to say there were not darkness to be found, bruises to have been had and hard lessons learned.

As the only daughter of the royal family, Princess Shaena had been given the expectation by her own father that she would one day marry her elder brother, Rhaegar, or her younger brother, Daeron. They were Targaryen’s after all and the King believed in the importance of certain Targaryen traditions and ideals.

It was mildly surprising then when at nine years old Shaena was in attendance as it was announced at the tourney celebrating the birth of her youngest brother Viserys, that Rhaegar would be betrothed to the host of the tourneys daughter, Cersei Lannister. The little lioness was only a year older than Shaena, so it was not a matter of impatience to make a match for Rhaegar else her father would have waited until the Shaena was of age to marry Rhaegar. This was a matter of nescesity and something Shaena would believe later was under great influence by the small council. The marriage would be a good way to bridge the poor relationship between the king and his hand and also continue to guarantee direct deposits of Lannister gold into the Crowns coffers after the wedding as well.

After the announcement, Shaena was absolutely certain she would be marrying her younger brother. Daeron was only two years younger than her and they always got along well. But marrying him, well, it was not exactly a thought that sparked joy or excitement in her. It was more of a fact she was simply resigned to. Like her mother, Shaena was mindful of her duty, and her duty was to produce pure Targaryen children according to her father. So when she was sat down at fifteen by both her mother and father told she was to be wed to Eddard Stark it was the greatest shock in her young life, or so she thought until she learned the reason for the betrothal.

Rhaegar had gotten Lyanna Stark with child. Shaena had heard the same rumors about Rhaegar and Lyanna. How her brother had abducted the lady after the Tourney at Harrenhall. Shaena had not been present, helping running the castle and assisting in the preparations for her brothers wedding to Cersei Lannister.

After the Tourney the Starks were meant to travel to Riverrun for Brandon Starks wedding to Catelyn Tully. Brandon and his father had rode ahead, Lyanna would follow at a slower pace in a litter. Ten leagues from Harrenhall she was abducted reportedly by Rhaegar and six confidants of his. Lord Rickard and his son departed the Riverlands, postponing the young lords wedding, with the goal of retrieving the stolen girl from the crown prince. The father and son split ways, one coming to Kings Landing and the other going to Dragonstone to try and widen the search quicker and depand the return of their kin.

Shaena remembered the fury of the day the elder Stark arrived, the sounds of yelling, the commotion of it all. Lord Stark was ushered into a private chamber rather than stand before court when Lord Varys, the master of whispers, advised the king why the man had come. Shaena had not been privy to the conversations inside the chambers as her father did not let her take part in the small council meetings. Only her brothers. Some time later Brandon Stark came to the capital as well after finding Dragonstone not to be hiding Lyanna and Rhaegar.

She very little crossed paths with the Starks during their stay. Her mother wanted her to help with the care of her little brothers and focus on her lessons, making sure she had little free time to snoop on what was happening.

When she did run into them their words were cold and curt, still courteous but bordering on rude as if she was also to blame for what Rhaegar had done. She tried to not take it personal and reminded herself that Northerners were more brusqe in their manners.

Brandon Stark was a handsome man and she thought Catelyn Stark lucky as any young girl might, if he did not glare at her so fiercely all the time when ever their eyes met. The poor young woman must have been very upset to have her wedding postponed. She and her groom were not strangers at all, and had been meeting over the years since the bethrothel was made when Lady Catelyn was a girl of twelve. Her brother and his fanciful ways was disturbing so many peoples lives. She wished she could only understand him better. Rhaegar was always an enigma to her. He was always a sensible young man so this hadn’t made sense. Had he simply gone mad? She would learn the answer that year.

The Starks spent weeks in Kings Landing working with her father and his council on trying to discover the truth and locate the missing man and girl, sending Varys little birds into flight all over the Kingdoms to try and get word on their location. Her father sent parties to all of Rhaegars known favorite places. Summerhall, Oldtown, villages he frequented but they remained to be found.

They tried to keep things quiet but eventually the news was leaked out. Robert Baratheon was barely being contained at the Vale from coming down and raining hell and fury on them with a rebellion that would no doubt rise once he was able to leave. Already Roberts brother Stannis was picking up arms to come to his brothers aide.

Her father wanted the young mans head, the Starks could be reasoned with it was the Baratheon boy that would be the real issue. If he was dead then they might be able to prevent a war. His younger brother Stanniss was a sensible, strict fellow, he would make a much better Lord of Storms End and would not be so quick to go to war with the crown. He would understand that Rhaegar was a young man and his own older brother had already a number of bastards. Rhaegar was a prince, he could have any woman he desired if he so wished. A highborn losing her maidenhead before a marriage was a scandal, not a crime.

Of course King Aerys didn’t see things like other men. He thought his family, like many before him, above the law. Dragons did not answer to gods or men.

During the earlier meetings the North had threatened breaking from the Seven Kingdoms again in response to this scandal if not adequately compensated for the insult and possible crimes being committed against Lyanna, completely blaming Rhaeger and accusing him of kidnapping the girl.

Tywin Lannister was eerily quiet during all of this. After all Rhaegar had insulted him and his daughter Cersei to whom her brother was betrothed to by running off with another woman when the wedding was so close.

Shaena tried to comfort her good-sister to be, but the girl was prickly and haughty. She hid her hurt feelings behind snappish retorts and faux confidence that she would be queen, that this meant nothing and Rhaegar would have his fun and return to wed her as promised. Shaena had tried to be understanding and patient, be a good sister. She had the practice but Cersei made things purposefully difficult rather than just accepting her companionship and comfort.

Others might have just assumed she was putting on a brave face for herself and others, but Shaena knew this was just pure arrogance. Cersei was called the light of the West, songs were sung that she was the most beautiful woman in Westeros and the richest with her houses wealth behind her.

If Cersei was more personable, more kindly, perhaps Shaena would feel worse for her. But the girl was a viper and not worth more time than was expected spent with.

Shaena had been walking with her brothers around the keep, heading to the gardens when she heard her father loudly threatening to burn Rickard and Brandon in the middle of court for their treasonous words. He might have if they hadn’t received a lead that same day, word from a scout near Dorne.

Rhaegar had taken Lyanna past the Dornish Marches. Just beyond Summerhall to a small place called the Tower of Joy past Nightsong.

Lord Rickard and Bradon wasted not a minute and departed the capital without the kings consent. They rode like the wind to Dorne. When they arrived they learned something even more shocking. Apparently it was no kidnapping her mother explained to her. Rhaegar and Lyanna fell in love at Harrenhall. Lyanna went willingly with Rhaegar and the two have been carrying out a premarital affair despite their individual betrothals to others. Rickard and Brandon arrived in time to stop the couple from marrying, there was even a Septon there. Bran Stark had challenged Rhaegar to a duel for dishonoring his sister. Rhaegar won. Brandon Stark was dead.

Her mother explained that Lady Lyanna, only fourteen, was with child and she would give birth quietly in a remote location per the Starks wishes.

There would be no union between Rhaegar and Lyanna, that Aerys was clear on that. He would not throw away the chance that Tywin would still keep the engagement between his daughter and Rhaegar.

Lyanna’s child once born would then be given over to Rhaegar, to acknowledged as his bastard since Lyanna had been a maid prior. Where the bastard would go after had yet to be decided.

There was still much at stake and something else had to be done to help keep what little peace was to be found. Acting fast it was her mothers idea to offer Shaena’s hand to the middle son, Ned Stark, as restitution for what Rhaegar had done to Lyanna. She did so immediately before it was suggested that Ned be wed to Catleyn Tully now that Brandon Stark was dead and she was without a betrothed anymore. They had to strike to seal an alliance with the Starks against he Baratheon’s.

It was uncertain if Robert would still have Lady Lyanna after this. Shaena could have been offered to Lord Baratheon to replace his betrothed Lyanna as Princess Rhaelle had once been offered to Orys Baratheon when Duncan married Jenny of Oldstones. The consequences of that love nearly destroyed the kingdoms, and now this may prove to have just as horrendous of consequences. No doubt the fields would run red with blood, a rebellion was expected, war. For house Targaryen it was a choice between fighting the North and the Stormland’s or making peace with one to lessen their enemies. It was decided they stood a better chance with making peace with the North and keeping them out of battles. Robert and Ned Stark were friends, but Rickard Stark still lived and had no other attachments and commitments to House Baratheon other than the relationship his son had with the young Lord of Storms End.

The Targaryen’s had never had a close relationship with the North and this marriage would rectify that as well take away an ally from the Baratheon’s. It was a keen opportunity that should not be passed up. Shaena understood the sense behind it.

“And Rhaegar?” Shaena found her voice to ask, though there was a tremble to it she was embarrassed to admit. Her throat had gone dry as she listened to her parents.

Her mother noticed and motioned for a servant to bring her some water. Shaena smiled gratefully at her.

“Your fool brother has been escorted to Dragonstone where he will remain under heavy guard until I say so.” her father sneered, practically spitting Rhaegar’s name as if it was curse in his mouth.

“If we are lucky, Lord Tywin, will overlook this as a young man sowing his wild oats before marriage and not break the betrothal to his daughter.” her mother sighed, watching as her daughter tosses a lemon slice into her goblet of water, her hands shaking.”No need for him to know Rhaegar had planned to marry the girl. That is just between us, do you understand, Shaena?”

Shaena nodded and noticed how her mother was wringing her hands. They were so ashen and dry. Shaena reached out, putting her own hand over them to comfort and support her. She could not imagine the disappointment and stress this was putting her through.

“Gods have mercy on us, we will be ruined if the marriage does not play out. We will need the Lannisters to crush Robert Baratheon in the rising rebellion,” King Aerys stood from his chair, robes billowing.

The back of his long hair looked tangled. Ever since Duskendale he let no man or woman give him a sheer. He was terrified of the blades. Her father could barely sit his own throne, always nervous of being nicked by the still sharp tipped blades it was forged from.

“We should never have went to that Tourney,” Aerys was speaking of the Tourney at Harrenhall, where Rhaegar had crowned Lyanna Stark as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

They hadn’t thought much of it when it happened. Lady Cersei was not in attendance for the Tourney, busy with wedding plans. Besides, many a man had crowned pretty girls and nothing came of it. They had thought this would be no different. They could never have imagined that Rhaegar would do something like this. He barely knew the girl. To their knowledge this was the first time the two had ever met, and they had not even spoken to each other. Now they were in love? It was odd but her brother always had been a somber romantic. Perhaps he really did fall in love at first sight. But still he should know to have restraint and that nothing could come from his affections, recuperated or not. He had duties, responsibilities, a commitment to anther to uphold.

“I understand, your grace, mother,” she swallowed, a strange pit sitting heavy in her stomach at the thought fo the cold north of the glares her soon to be husbands father and brother had once given her. She would not be well received in the North she suspected.

“I wish we had more time but because of the sensitive nature of our situation it is in everyone interest you leave as soon as possible.” her mother than explained that she would be leaving on the morrow for Winterfell and the servants were packing her things as they spoke.

#Shaena Targaryen x Ned Stark #Shaena Targaryen lives #Shaena Targaryen #asoiaf fanfiction #a game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #rare pair #got fanfic #ned stark #got au #asoiaf au

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lady-griffin · 5 years

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Jenny’s Song

Let’s talk about the history of Jenny, the symbolic importance of her character and the actual song itself and what it could mean.

Who is Jenny of Oldstones exactly?

Jenny of Oldstones, by Rae Lavergne

Jenny was the wife of Prince Duncan Targaryen, the first born son of King Aegon V (also known as Egg) and heir to the Iron Throne.

Duncan Targaryen, by Karla Ortiz

Duncan was originally betrothed to an unknown Baratheon daughter, but while in the Riverlands he fell in love with a “strange, lovely and mysterious” woman, aka Jenny of Oldstones.

Despite already being engaged and the fact that there was a severe class difference and protest from his family, the small council and others, the two nonetheless got married. Or I guess more accurately stayed married.

King Aegon V tried to break up the marriage, but to no avail. Duncan, in the end, was given a choice -- be the heir to the throne or stay married to Jenny of Oldstones. He chose the latter and became known as the Prince of Dragonflies.

Now this story is important for several reasons.

For one thing, the choice these two made impacted the existence of current characters and their own family lines. So, let’s get into the literal and historical implications of Jenny and her Prince of Dragonflies.

The Effect on the Present

Jaehaerys II was named heir and later became king, when Duncan abdicated the throne. He is the founder of the specific line that is Daenerys’ immediate family, him and his sister-wife Shaera were the parents of Aerys and Rhaella, who are Daenerys parents and Jon’s grandparents, on his father’s side.

You may think those two pairs of siblings may have ended up together anyway, without Duncan and Jenny, since they are Targaryen siblings and all that, but not so much.

Jaehaerys and Shaera were betrothed to Celia Tully and Luthor Tyrell respectively, but were in-love with one another. Despite their parents marrying for love, they were forbidden to do the same, mostly because they were siblings and Aegon and his wife Betha Blackwood wanted to end that tradition.

But because Duncan married for love, Jaehaerys and Shaera followed suit and it goes further than that.

Jenny brought the Woods Witch to court and she proclaimed that the Prince Who Was Promised would be born of the line of Aerys II (Mad King) and Rhaella. Hearing that, Jaehaerys arranged the marriage between his own son and daughter, who had three children Rhaegar, Viserys and Daenerys.

Because of Duncan and Jenny, Daenerys and Jon (and their right to the throne) exists even at all.

And there is more.

Baratheon Family

Because Duncan snubbed the Baratheon girl, the Stormlands rebelled against the Crown and lost.

Aegon sent his youngest daughter Rhaelle to be betrothed to Ormund Baratheon, which created the current or most recent Baratheon Family - Robert, Stannis and Renly’s grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen.

In the books, not so much the show, Robert and others even kind of use this as a “justification” for him having the throne, which is basically bullshit. He took it and that’s that.

Tyrell Family

And while this might not be the case in the show, Luthor Tyrell was betrothed to Shaera Targaryen and because she married her brother, he instead married Olenna Redwyne, which created the current (now gone in show) Tyrell family.

And while not directly related to Duncan Targaryen, Ser Duncan the Tall the namesake of this Targaryen Prince is an ancestor of Brienne of Tarth.

So, a lot of the families currently in the show exist because Duncan married Jenny and chose her over the throne.There was a ripple affect with Duncan’s choice that we can still see.

Symbolic Implications

There are a lot of couples we’ve been shown that are a reflection of this couple, but nonetheless fall short of the actual couple.

They main factor being that Duncan abdicated his throne for Jenny, he chose love over power and his duty. And many couples fall short on that idea.

Sidenote: To be clear, whether or not choosing love is a good thing or not in this world is highly debatable. But going with the moral of how Duncan and Jenny are told, love is the positive thing. But the flaws are pointed out to us.

Daenerys and Jon

First off, they have the same first letters. Daenerys and Duncan// Jon and Jenny, so that’s an interesting parallel for the two couples.

In the show, Podrick’s singing ends just as Daenerys and Jon’s scene in the crypt begins. The Florence + The Machine Lyric Video ends on Jon and Daenerys’ crypt scene, with the line “the ones who loved her the most.”

This seems to be strongly indicating to us, the audience, that we should see a connection between these two couples (if you know the backstory.) But I would argue, the overall surface of Jon and Dany is a closer match than the actual relationship itself.

To be fair though, Jon did give up his throne to Daenerys and Daenerys herself stated that she was in the North, because she loves Jon. Her being in the North is presented as her giving up her desire for the throne for Jon.

So both are meant to be a Duncan-figure to the others’ Jenny.

And yet, it’s still not the same.

Jon didn’t give up his throne for Daenerys. He’s gave it to her. It’s not the same kind of choice, in my opinion (and depending if you believe in Pol!Jon, he’s not giving it up for love).

But, let’s count it for now, because do we think he’s going to do the same thing, again. What would be the point of bringing up Jon’s claim to the throne and then just have him give it up to Daenerys, a repeat from last season.

I don’t think Jon is going to be giving up his claim to Daenerys or for her, anytime soon. Mostly becauseof Daenerys and her own relationship to the throne.

Daenerys is also framed as a Duncan like figure, but is she? Daenerys might talk about her love for Jon and even believe that she is willing to give up her throne for him, but again is she willing to do it?

Sam brings that question right up to the surface, for both Jon and the audience. So the answer isn’t a straightforward yes, if it was the show wouldn’t be bringing our attention to it.

Daenerys’ primary focus when Jon was telling her the truth, was that he now had a higher claim to the Iron Throne than her own. That scene alone, I think disqualifies her as a Jenny figure and goes against her, as a Duncan figure as well.

And even her leaving her campaign for the Iron Throne is temporary, in the sense that she herself seems to see this as a slight change to her path, but not changing the overall course. Once the dead are gone, she was always planning on getting that throne and 7K. The Sansa and Daenerys scene confirms that.

Jon and Daenerys are no Duncan and Jenny, at least not in their relationship together.

There are two other couples who seem to fit the mold of Duncan and Jenny, more so.

Rhaegar and Lyanna

Rhaegar annuls his marriage to Ellia Martell (in the show) to marry Lyanna. And like his ancestor breaks another Baratheon betrothal. And the Lyric Video certainly does imply a Duncan and Jenny filter to Rhaegar and Lyanna.

And again, Rhaegar exists (like his sister and son) because of Jenny and Duncan getting married and Rhaegar was born during the Tragedy of Summehall…which we’ll note a bit later on.

Robb and Talisa/Jeyne

Robb and Talisa/Jeyne are more similar, in my opinion, to the story of Duncan and Jenny, particularly Robb and Talisa. Robb meets this strange and mysterious woman in the Riverlands (Talisa), while she is of noble birth in Essos, she is not of any noble birth within Westeros.

They get marry in secret and Robb breaks the arranged marriage that his mother arranged (like Duncan) that was meant to be advantageous to him and his family. And he refuses to give his “Jenny” up, despite the persistence of his own “Small Council.”

Furthermore, in the books, Catelyn herself hopes that Robb’s song in the end will be a happy one. That despite the current difficulties and struggles, it will all work out for the best.

However, neither Rhaegar nor Robb are Duncan. As both chose to keep their “Jenny” and their Throne. They didn’t make a choice and they both paid dearly and nearly brought the end to their houses.

You can’t have both your Jenny and your throne. You either choose her or the throne. And I would argue choosing the throne, is better than not choosing at all.

Daenerys and Daario.

This connection isn’t really all that applicable in all honestly, but I thought it deserved mentioning.

Daenerys gave up Daario for her pursuit of the throne. While Daenerys said she didn’t love him or wasn’t in-love with him, so it was an easier choice for her overall. It still was a choice.

She chose power and what she assumed might be a future duty for her as Queen. I would say her making the choice, puts her in a better spot than either Rhaegar or Robb.

Now there is another pairing to consider.

Jon and Sansa

Jon and Duncan do have some similarities (which also apply to him and Daenerys, if he is the Duncan in that dynamic)

They are both dark-haired Targaryens and their fathers were Targaryen men, while their mothers were not of the Targaryen line.

Duncan’s mother was Betha Blackwood, Blackwoods are a noble family in the Riverlands who still worship the Old Gods. Jon’s mother is Lyanna Stark, while not from the Riverlands, the Starks as we all know worship the Old Gods.

And while this is more of connection between Aegon V, Duncan’s father rather than Duncan himself, Jon too can be seen an unlikely ruler.

Aegon V was also known as “Aegon the Unlikely” due to the fact that he was the fourth son of the fourth son. No one ever expected him to become king, because he was one of the spares not the heir.

Jon is also viewed as the fourth son of Ned Stark. While Bran and Rickon are younger than Jon, the fact they are trueborn bump them up, making Jon the fourth son.

And because Ned Stark had five trueborn children, Jon was never to going to inherit Winterfell in any normal circumstance. And no one knows, or didn’t know until now, that he was actually Rhaegar’s child, so again, he’s a dark horse in the race to the Iron Throne, at least for the other characters.

And finally, Duncan was known as “Duncan the Small” because his namesake was “Ser Duncan the Tall”. And Jon’s height has been brought up quite a lot, even in this most recent episode, specifically in the scene of Sansa and Daenerys.

Sansa and Jenny, also have some interesting parallels and connections.

The prominent one, being that Jenny of Oldstones was one of Catelyn’s favorite stories and Catelyn is from the Riverlands, like Jenny.

While some fans are currently speculating that Jenny was a red-head, to my knowledge there is no actual evidence of that at all. But we don’t actually know, so maybe?

There is another connection to Sansa, it is a stretch, but I see a connection.

Jenny has a very fae-like quality to her and her story in general. Her story and I think (for me at least) the association with Dragonflies bring to mind fairies and how they appeared in Medieval Stories, particularly those involving knights. Now Westeros doesn’t have fae/fairies, but…

Jenny, apparently, claimed to be descendent of the Old Kings/First Men and also the Children of the Forest. She is described as being “strange, lovely and mysterious” and so maybe she was a “fae” of some kind or a descendent of the Children of the Forest.

Fans have speculated that her claims have some truth to them. But I’m not entirely convinced if Jenny herself was magical.

Similar to Sansa.

Sansa is currently the only Stark who doesn’t have magic in her storyline, but despite that, in the mythos of Westeros she is the one who people are starting to associate with magic. There are rumors, that Sansa magically killed Joffrey and escaped by turning into a wolf with wings.

Obviously, that’s not true.

But it’s still interesting that the non-magical Stark sibling is the one who is already being turned into a magical-tale for the people of Westeros. And that mythos might build overtime, especially as Sansa reunites with her siblings who do have prominent magical abilities.

And won’t that just confirm in people’s minds that Sansa is magical. And then later in the years, won’t future maesters be able to deny the existence of magic of the Three-Eyed Raven and such, because they know that historically King Joffrey was killed by the Tyrell family.

Similar to how the Maesters of Oldtown dismissed Jenny of Oldstones in season 7, while they were also dismissing the Three-Eyed Raven and the White Walkers (2 very real things)

Basically, and we’ll see if this turns out to be true in the end, I think both Jenny of Oldstones and Sansa Stark and the stories they became/will become is part of the blurred line between the real magic that exists and the fake, story-magic that is part of the smallfolk tall tales.

I’ve said this before, but I’m so interested in what the story of Sansa and her siblings will be in Westeros years later, because I’m betting there will be more than a few inaccuracies.

Sansa’s Wardrobe

The show, has made a very interesting connection between Sansa and Jenny and her Prince of Dragonflies, all the way back in the beginning.

In seasons 1-3, Sansa wore dragonfly, moth, and butterfly imagery.

Now the Dragonflies/Moths/Butterflies might have only been used because they represent delicacy and femininity, but also the ability to adapt, change, and evolve. They are metamorphosis and so is Sansa Stark. And that might be it, nothing more.

But the inclusion of the acorn collar for Arya, really does make me think the dragonflies to some extent, links Sansa to Jenny of Oldstones and her Dragonfly Prince. At least, in my opinion.

What acorn collar?

In season 1, Arya wore an acorn embroideredcollar to the Hand’s Tourney. While Sansa was already wearing dragonflies before this scene, it’s an interesting connection.

Not only is Sansa wearing her Dragonfly necklace and Moth ring as well in this scene, but this is where Sansa (and Arya) first meet Littlefinger. In the books, it is mentioned how he and Catelyn would play Duncan and Jenny when they were kids.

Now the acorn collar is a clear reference to the acorn dress Arya wore in the books when she was at Acorn Hall with the Brother-Hood of Banners. And during her time with the Brotherhood, Arya also met the Ghost of High Heart who is the Woods Witch (or believed to be), the same one from Jenny’s story.

She demands a song, known as Jenny’s song (the one we hear in the show). Now Arya notes that the song sounds familiar, but she doesn’t actually know it, however she knows Sansa would’ve known it.

In addition, some of the Ghost of High Heart prophetic dreams relate to Sansa. Joffrey being poisoned at his wedding and Sansa being the one carrying the poison, for instance.

Now in the show, Arya never meets the Ghost of High Heart and a lot of the culture and mythos of the world itself isn’t part of the show.

But still, that link between Sansa and Jenny of Oldstones exists, with Sansa’s dragonfly accessories and Arya’s acorn collar.

Confirming that Michelle Clapton is pulling, some of her costume details from the books and it’s interesting she chose dragonflies and not Jonquil flowers, which I would argue are more closely associated with book Sansa.

So are Jon and Sansa, a reflection of Duncan and jenny?

Well it depends. I think Jon could definitely give up his claim to the throne and abdicate it to someone else, depending on the circumstances.

In order to protect Sansa? A definite possibility.

Shoving the marriage proposal (idea) to Daenerys out the door, now that he knows he’s a Targaryen and Sansa’s cousin. Maybe?

We’ll have to see, though, I don’t think will get that in any real or clear-cut way.

But, is that the same as Duncan and Jenny?

Well not really, but I would say it’s pretty darn close.

I would argue whether or not the throne exists in the end, Jon wholeheartedly and genuinely choosing to give it up in some way for Sansa, would be the important thing. Not to Sansa, but for her.

And again, if Rhaegar and Lyanna and Robb and Talisa can be reflections of Duncan and Jenny, despite those two men never making a choice, than Jon making a choice would be closer match.

But we’ll have to see.

Jenny’s Song

The actual song, despite all of the above, is not about Duncan and Jenny. Or least not entirely. The song is about The Tragedy of Summerhall.

Basically, Aegon V was trying to bring back dragons into the world and his failure led to a fire that killed him, Duncan Targaryen and Ser Duncan the Tall and likely others.

Sidenote: Rhaegar believed, for a time, he was The Prince That Was Promised due to the events of Summerhall, him being born amidst smoke and salt and all that. Later, he started to believe it was his son Aegon Targaryen (not the Jon Snow son, the one with Ellia). So again that prince that was promised and Jenny of Oldstones connection, comes up again.

It’s unknown if Jenny actually died at Summerhall or if she chose to stay there until the day she died, dancing with the ghosts of those she’s known and loved. Now all alone in the world. I’m incline to believe the latter, but it’s vey possible she died as well and the smallfolk would claim to see her ghost.

We don’t know.

What we do know, is that Winterfell is basically being marked to be a place of similar tragedy.

Soon the characters who survive are going to be surrounded by the ghosts of Winterfell. And the song overplays some of the main cast and groupings/pairings.

The Hearth Gang – Podrick, Tyrion, Jaime, Davos, Brienne and Tormund

Gilly, Sam and Baby Sam

Sansa and Theon

Arya and Gendry

Messandei and Greyworm

Jorah

While we could go into the specific lyrics, overplaying the shots, I don’t know how important that actually is (maybe I’m wrong).

It seems clear to me though, that the people shown are going to lose the others who were also shown. Soon, some of the pairings will no longer be pairings. And the living will have their own ghosts haunting them, ghosts they’ll never want to leave.

Basically the song, as of right now (perhaps future episodes will change this) is not about Duncan and Jenny falling and love and being together. It’s about losing your loved ones and being left alone in this world.

Death is coming.

And very soon, some of these characters will have the burden of remembering those who have fallen and keeping them alive in their memory.

#Game of Thrones #GOT #Jenny of Oldstones #Jonsa #Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #Duncan Targaryen #Jenny's Song #Arya Stark #JOnsa Meta #Got Meta #Got Analysis

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asoiafdrabbles · 4 years

Text

II.46

With his firstborn child staring up at him with eyes it shouldn't have, Jon Baratheon's entire world falls apart.

Margaery/Jon (Nearly Everyone Survives the Rebellion AU)

Jon stared at the babe, feeling sick.

"Your great-grandmother," Margaery rushed to say, gripping their son desperately, "she was a Targaryen. That could--"

He laughed, and the sound was broken, fragile. Madness, he thought, hysteria building, there's madness in my blood.

"It's not that and you know it's not. That--our enemy was right."

For almost all his life the deposed King-Across-the-Sea, the Targaryen that had abducted his mother, had claimed Jon was his son. Nothing his mother said or did, none of his father's assurances, had stopped the lizard's insistence.

And he'd been right the whole time.

"I'm not a Baratheon. He's," Jon looked at their son, tears coming to his eyes, "he's not. By the gods, Marge, when father--when the King finds out--"

They were at Highgarden, the only boon in this situation. Margaery had asked to give birth in the comfort of her childhood home and his father had given them leave, though reluctantly. The midwife, the maester, all of the servants around them were the Tyrell's. They would put the blood of their liege before Robert Baratheons, especially as many still held some loyalty to the Targaryens--one of the reasons Jon had married the sole daughter of the Lord of the Reach to begin with.

His father--his supposed father--would not be running through the halls ready to murder the dragonspawn in their midst here.

"I will call for my family," Margaery said, finally, her voice the silk-wrapped steel he had grown to love. "Grandmother and Willas will be able to help us in this. If only it was the hair...we could have dyed the hair...."

But of course, when the rest of the Tyrells arrived, after Margaery cleaned up and the wetnurse fed their son, things got even worse for Jon. They wanted his son on the throne, their blood on the throne, and knew that King Robert would never allow it.

Rhaegar, though, could be persuaded. His eldest son was still his heir, but had only two daughters. The general mirth in the room made Jon feel sick.

Had his mother lied? he wondered as he blocked out his good-family's plotting. Had she known all along or simply hoped he was Robert's?

His parents had never gotten along well, but they had worked on it. Robert slept around, but was careful of bastards. Lyanna had hobbies that were frowned upon in a highborn woman, but with the king's full consent. They both loved Jon and mourned the fact she couldn't have anymore children.

Robert had no trueborn children. Only two bastards, as far as Jon knew. Stannis had a daughter. Renly had no children, would never have any children.

The Tyrells were right, this could be the end of Robert's reign.

Jon's stomach lurched and he stood, leaving the room without bothering with excuses. When Rhaegar found out...he could only imagine how much gloating there would be.

From the first moment they'd met, Rhaegar had treated him as though he were a rebellious child. Sometimes perhaps even a fool.

In the brief battles, when none of the Targaryen loyalists would lay a finger on Jon except...except his brother, he supposed, now, feeling sicker still. His older brother, who enjoyed knocking him around but never seriously injuring him. Who would sometimes go so far as to lecture Jon on his footwork or grip right there in the battlefield. Who had always believed their father about Jon's identity.

In the attempts at negotiation, Rhaegar would insist Jon be acknowledged as a Targaryen and given to his 'rightul' family. It would never happen, no negotiator Robert sent, and certainly not Jon Arryn when he attended, would ever agree to such nonsense. Jon was Robert's heir, his only son, and even if he'd had a dozen more Robert would never make such a concession to Rhaegar.

There were books in Essos that called Jon "Aemon Targaryen" and listed him as Rhaegar's youngest son, legitimized by the rightful king, and called Robert his step-father. He'd seen some of them in his travels, full of morbid curiosity that Uncle Stannis or Uncle Benjen could not dissuade him from. The maesters would be so upset that those were the correct ones.

"Jon?"

He turned, realizing he'd made it to a garden and halfway through its small maze without even noticing. And there was Uncle Renly, looking at him in concern.

"Did something happen? Is the babe...?"

Jon stared. He had no idea what the Tyrells had decided on, if they were going to pretend his son had not lived in order to hide him. And Renly...what side would he fall on? He resented both his brothers and had always been good to Jon, and was so close to Loras, but family, blood, would surely come first.

"I...it's...I don't know," he finally decided on. "They're seeing to him now."

Watching Renly's face crumple at the thought his child could be dying, Jon desperately wished he could trust him. Maybe he'd find out soon. Maybe he'd find out he hadn't lost everyone.

"Can I...can I ask you a question?"

Renly put on one of his calm masks, the sort he war at court, and nodded, motioning Jon to come closer. "Of course you can."

He licked his lips, sitting down on the bench beside Renly and cataloging, despite himself, all the differences between them. If he'd looked just a bit less like his mother no one would have ever believed he was Robert's, surely, he was nothing like Renly and the brothers were so alike.

"Have you...heard anything new about the Targaryens?"

At that, Renly's eyes narrowed. "If you're worried that they might try something, if you have an heir--"

"I, yes, and...other things. I just wanted to know. After the last time I went to Essos, father hasn't told me anything."

The last time, a routine trip to speak with the Iron Bank, and a not-so-routine kidnapping attempt. He'd been ready for something, but not for the Sword of the Morning to try to make off with him. Robert had been spitting mad when he'd returned home and told him.

Margaery had just found out she was pregnant and had made him promise to stay put until the baby came, playing the part of dutiful wife.

Renly frowned, thinking. He was on the Small Council, but he rarely bothered attending. Most of what he knew came from going on hunts with the King or gossiping with courtiers.

"Just the usual. They're still slowly conquering Essos from their so-called Valyria and claiming Westeros as theirs. Stannis is worried they'll be making an attempt on the Stepstones soon and we all know Dorne would welcome them with open arms if they did."

Jon nodded. Valyria...the city they'd founded. Restored. If he had to run with his son, if the Tyrells couldn't protect him...he'd go to Dorne and then from there onward to Valyria.

He hated knowing how smug Rhaegar would look when Jon showed up with a purple-eyed babe of his own.

"Thank you, uncle. I should...go check again."

"I'll go with you, Jon."

Renly's arm around his shoulder gave Jon strength, it was all he could do not to fold into his hold, but he managed to pull away. "No, thank you. I...Margaery doesn't like to be seen when she's not at her best."

The appeal to vanity was enough to convince Renly and Jon was stalking back in the direction he came, heart hammering in his chest.

Margaery was still meeting with her family, but their son had been placed in their rooms. He was a tiny thing, with a few strands of dark hair and those horrible eyes.

"What should we call you?" he muttered to the boy, who could only stare up towards him.

They'd been planning on Steffon for a boy, but Jon could hardly do that, now. Rickard, perhaps, would not be a claim to a family he did not have, but...but if the boy were to be a Targaryen king....

He could be like Jon, he supposed, with a name from both sides of the family. But even now that he knew it wasn't a mad lie, he still didn't like that idea for himself, let alone his son. He did not want another child to feel like he was feeling now, so torn over...everything.

"Rickard for now," he muttered, finally. "Or perhaps it should be Torrhen?"

Margaery's mirthless laugh let him know she had entered.

"We're to pretend like he's sickly, that no one can see him."

"It will give us an excuse not to return when we normally would have," Jon agreed, shoulders slumping at the thought of the Red Keep, of home.

"...Willas has a way to send word to King Rhaegar."

"You're always so careful not to call him 'King' at court. Was that just for show?"

"Jon. Have I ever done anything to make you think I'm disloyal to you?"

He looked up, eyes narrowing, searching her words for the Tyrell doublespeak she was so good at. "Have you suspected all along? That you were marrying a dragon, not a stag?"

She hesitated just long enough for him to have his answer, and she knew it. "You wouldn't believe me if I had told you. And what would you have done, if it were some other woman who gave birth to a Targaryen babe? If it was someone like Sansa or Myrcella?"

That, he knew, could have been a disaster.

"Was this just your grandmother's plan or was it Rhaegar's?"

Again, she hesitated, and he felt sick. As crown prince, he was used to people trying to use him, to manipulate him, but he had never suspected it would go this far.

"You are the mother of my child," he said, finally, "but do not think I will forgive you for this."

There were tears in her eyes to match the tears in his, but he could not care. His entire life had been a lie and it seemed like almost everyone around him had known.

Notes: I imagine this as Rhaegar surviving the Trident but it still being a brutal defeat for the Targs. He returns to the Red Keep and just basically ignores his father and takes the rest of his family to Dragonstone. Then after King's Landing falls they go on to Essos. Since he's an adult and a proven leader/warrior, and has like half of Westeros wanting him back as king, he gets much easier support than Viserys and Daenerys did.

Kinda like with the Blackfyre Rebellions there's wars and battles on and off throughout the kingdoms, but Robert doesn't have a firm enough hold to punish the loyalists the way he'd like. Meanwhile part of gaining enough power and leverage to take back his throne is Rhaegar re-founding Valyria and conquering parts of Essos from it, recreating the freehold, basically.

For the Baratheon stuff: the timeline was different, like when and in what order, and Jon wasn't conceived until maybe a month before Robert came to "free" Lyanna. So she basically had 'celebratory sex' with him in order to make sure if she had conceived with Rhaegar that no one could know and...it worked. Jon was "premature," but it was a really hard pregnancy on Lyanna and she almost dies, so no one really thinks anything of it. Jon has dark hair, so he's not as obviously not-Baratheon as Cersei's kids and also Robert tried to cut back on bastards (I imagine he mostly sleeps with professionals) for Lyanna's sake.

#character: jon snow #character: margaery tyrell #ship: margaery/jon #verse: survived the rebellion #character: renly baratheon #verse: jon baratheon #theme: parentage reveal #genre: angst #ship: renly & jon

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hatsoff-forgandalf · 4 years

Text

A Hero’s Journey to the Block

Eddard Stark and the Hero’s Journey

Eddard Stark’s travels south and experiences in Kings Landing take him through the hero’s journey but lead to a darker end. Eddard (Ned) began our story as the Warden of the North, living in his ancestral home, Winterfell, with his wife, Catelyn, their five legitimate children, and Jon Snow, the boy Ned says is his bastard son. His life is happy but he is still haunted by his past losses. Everything changes when Ned receives word that Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, has died. Both Ned and the King, Robert Baratheon, spent their formative years being fostered by Jon Arryn. Ned and Robert grew to be close friends during this time and regarded each other as brothers. Both Ned and Jon Arryn had helped Robert overthrow the previous King, Aerys Targaryen, who killed Ned’s father, brother, and many others, and kill Prince Rheagar Targaryen. Soon after he received the news of Jon Arryn’s death Ned learned that Robert, who he had not seen for nine long years, and his whole royal entourage were taking the long journey from the capital, King’s Landing, north, to Winterfell. This timing was not a coincidence and signals the beginning of Ned’s journey in A Game of Thrones.

Ned remembers Robert as being “muscled like a maiden’s fantasy”(A Game of Thrones, Eddard I 0:1:24-27), with thick dark hair, heroic, and perhaps a bit too fond of women. The King who arrived at Winterfell was not the same, Robert had changed. He had gained 8 stone, a beard, and a vicious case of alcoholism. His fondness for many women never left him, even after his marriage to golden-haired Cersei Lannister and the birth of their three children. The whole royal family arrived with Robert, Queen Cersei, her twin brother Jaime, her younger brother Tyrion, and the three children, Joffrey Myrcella and Tommen, that all resembled their mother, beautiful and blonde. Immediately after arriving, Robert asks Ned to be his new Hand, to travel south where nearly all of Ned’s family died, to leave behind his wife, and leave Winterfell, his home and his people. But Robert is King, Ned cannot immediately refuse, he really cannot refuse at all, so while Ned does say yes, he still tries to think of a way to escape this. This is Ned’s attempt to deny the call to adventure, in his mind, he’s already had one journey he doesn’t need another.

When Ned tells his wife, Catelyn, of Robert’s offer she is completely in favor of him becoming the Hand and bringing their two daughters, Sansa and Arya so that they can learn how to be proper ladies and so Sansa can marry Prince Joffrey. Ned remains unconvinced until Catelyn receives a letter from her sister Lysa, the wife of Jon Arryn. Lysa tells Catelyn that Jon did not die of natural causes like everyone assumed and was actually poisoned by the Queen’s family, the Lannisters. Upon learning this Ned decides he has to learn the truth of this and protect Robert by accepting the position as Hand of the King and traveling south with his two daughters. He planned to take his young son Bran with him as well, but when Bran fell from an abandoned tower he had been climbing and became comatose, Ned had to leave him in Winterfell. Ned accepted the call.

During the long journey south, Ned faced some ordeals. He tried to convince Robert not to send assassins after the last two Targaryens, a twenty-two-year-old boy and his fourteen-year-old sister, who were in hiding far away. When Arya and Joffrey got into a fight and Arya’s pet wolf bit Joffrey, Arya made her wolf run away by throwing rocks at it, so Robert commanded Ned to execute Sansa’s pet wolf in place of Arya’s, at Queen Cersei’s insistence, despite the poor beast not having been guilty of anything. This alienated Sansa from him. Then when Ned arrived in King’s Landing he met the man who was to be one of the greatest challenges in his life, Petyr Baelish. Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish grew up with Catelyn and Lysa. He was deeply in love with Catelyn, and he once fought a duel for her hand, which he promptly lost. Baelish climbed the social ladder of the Seven Kingdoms, rising from his position as a minor lord to become the Master of Coin and a member of King Robert’s council. When Ned met all of the members of the council, Petyr made sure to subtly let Ned know that he was out of his depth and emphasize the fact that he, Petyr, is the person who knows the true way of things in King’s Landing. Petyr also constantly mentions Catelyn, in a very sly and almost sleazy manner. He tells Ned that distrusting him was the wisest move he has made. Petyr Baelish sets himself up to be Ned’s mentor while in King’s Landing, but he does not have Ned’s best interests at heart.

Ned must balance ruling the 7 kingdoms for Robert, his investigation of Jon Arryn’s death, and the mounting evidence that he and his daughters are not safe in the south. Petyr Baelish told Ned there is someone he must see and led him on a long complicated journey to a brothel when they arrive Petyr told Ned that Catelyn is inside. Ned, believing this to be an insult to him and his wife, nearly kills Petyr but stopped when a member of the Winterfell guard stepped out of the brothel confirming the truth of Petyr’s statements. Inside the brothel, Petyr tells Ned this is a safe location to meet because this brothel is owned by Petyr himself. Then Ned saw Catelyn who delivered more news against the Lannisters. An assassin had come, one night, to kill Bran while he was still lying comatose in his bed. Catelyn herself managed to fend off the man by holding the blade of his dagger until Bran’s pet wolf arrived and killed the assassin. Catelyn shows Ned the knife and they both agree it was too expensive for a simple assassin when Petyr slithered his way into the conversation saying that this used to be his knife, but he lost it in a bet with Tyrion Lannister, Queen Cersei’s youngest brother. Ned and Catelyn realized that Bran must have seen something the Lannisters did not want him to see and so they tried to silence him. Catelyn then left King’s landing to go and see her sister Lysa. In his investigations about Jon Arryn Ned learns that leading up to his death Jon started acting strangely. He visited a specific brothel, which was nothing like Jon, and a blacksmith’s shop, he was apparently making strange inquiries around town and had taken an old large tome, that was a history of the houses of Westeros, from the Library. Robert and Ned again discussed the last Targaryens, or rather Targaryen, the young man had just died, but the girl was pregnant, and fearing her child’s claim to his throne, Robert ordered her assassinated and Ned resigned in protest. Ned then visited the brothel to find a poor young blonde girl Robert had gotten pregnant and her infant black-haired daughter. He visited the blacksmith and saw a boy, the spitting image of Robert working in the forge. He then read the book of the history and learned that every child born of Baratheon/Lannister marriages was black of hair. Ned realized the horrible truth, The children of Cersei Lannister are not Robert’s but are in fact bastards born of incest between her and her twin brother Jaime. All of this came to a head when Jaime Lannister and his men attacked Ned and his men in the streets of King’s Landing in retribution for actions Catelyn took on her journey to see Lysa, killing many and injuring Ned’s leg badly. When Ned awoke in his bed days later, Robert forced him to take back his position by threatening to make Jaime Lannister the Hand if Ned refused him or gave up the position again. Then while bedridden Ned witnessed an argument between Robert and Cersei in which Robert hit her. Ned thought, not for the first time, that Robert truly was not the same man he once was. Robert then said that he was leaving for a hunting trip for a few days, and brought his young squire Lancel Lannister. Ned knew this was the time to do what was right. he confronted Cersei Lannister, he told her that he knew of her relationship with her brother, that he knew her childrens’ true parentage, and that he knew Jon Arryn had been killed to cover up the truth. Cersei did not deny it. She attempted to seduce Ned to keep him quiet, but he was unmoved. Ned told her to take the children and flee before Robert returned. Ned told her, and he knew, that Robert would not hesitate to have them killed once the truth came to light. Cersei refused, telling Ned that she would either win the throne or die, there was no third option. What Ned did not realize was that this action had just sealed the fate of his friend Robert.

Robert had been gored by a boar on his hunt because he got horribly drunk off the wine given to him by his squire Lancel Lannister, on Cersei’s orders no doubt, and was lying on his deathbed. He asked Ned to write his will and named Ned Lord Protector of the realm until Prince Joffrey could take the throne, but when he wrote it Ned wrote until his rightful heir could take the throne. Ned then wrote a letter to Robert’s younger brother Stannis, telling him that he was the rightful king as Robert’s true heir. He asked Petyr Baelish to get the guards on Ned’s side and Petyr agreed. Ned then told his daughters they had to leave King’s Landing almost immediately but He did not tell them why, both girls were upset, but Sansa was much more upset. Not knowing it would be disastrous Sansa went to Cersei and told her about Ned’s plans to make them leave and break off Sansa’s engagement to Joffrey, and she begged Cersei not to let either of those happen. The next day when Ned arrived in court Cersei sat upon the throne with her son Joffrey and told Ned that Robert’s will meant nothing, when Ned said Stannis was the true King Joffrey ordered Ned to be thrown in the dungeon and Ned felt the cold press of a blade against his neck as Petyr said That he warned Ned not to trust him.

And so Ned enters his ordeal, the time he spent in the dungeons broke him, he could not tell day from night he was plagued by horrible dreams from his past, and guilt over all he left undone. After several days Ned had a visitor, a member of Joffrey’s council, Varys. Varys told Ned that if he falsely confessed to lying and treason Joffrey would let him live in exile. Ned refused, but then Varys reminded him that Sansa and Arya were prisoners of the crown he agreed. Ned confessed on the steps of the church of Baelor, and just as Cersei said to exile him, Joffrey commanded Ned be executed.

Eddard Stark of Winterfell believed in honor and loyalty, his path from Robert calling him to adventure to the trials and challenges he faced in King’s Landing to his transformation enacted by Joffrey follows the path of the hero perfectly, but his journey ends before he can return.

#ned stark #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf essay #eddard stark #clarinda writes stuff #this essay was written for people who have never read asoiaf or watched got which is why I left out all of the Lyanna issues #so enjoy #the hero's journey

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lucy-pepperwood · 4 years

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Got Au

ASOIAF Au

Lorra Stark

The eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn

Born 282 almost 10 months after her brother Robb

( Name is pulled off of stark family tree: https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/House_Stark)

Lorra Stark is the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and His Wife Catlyn she is one of eight children

Robb

Lorra (Au character)

Hoster † ( Au character )

Sansa

Arya

Brandon

Rickon

Minisa ( Not born until the tail end of season one in this Au)

Lorra is born ten months after her elder brother Robb, and shortly after her birth, her mother gives birth to another son. Hoster Stark does not live a week before he passes on.

Lorra is a northern girl who has southern talents. So she rides horses and practices archery and has a fondness for falconry. Still, she also is a fine seamstress, and she can recite epic poetry. She has a pleasant singing voice and can even have a minor talent for the harp.

Lorra still is a northern girl at heart. Preferring simpler designs and manners. Much to her mother's horror, Lorra's favorite design to make is bone lace or pillow lace. Intensely popular in the North but looked down upon in the south, for it is made from a standard fabric.

Lorra's favorite thing to do is create new gowns and designs. She loves learning different sowing techniques and different styling types. She has a closet full of dresses she could not wear in the northern realm. She loves using her little siblings as mannequins. ( They do so grudgingly because Lorra pays them in sweets.)

Lorra is a shining example for her younger sisters to follow. Both Sansa and Arya developing more common personality traits rather than being so radically different.

Sansa embraces her northern culture earlier, she gets into the history of her home country. She appreciates the beauty that can not be found anywhere else on the map. Sansa turns into quite an artist with her steady hand she makes many a beautiful painting.

Arya, on the other hand, does not rebel quite so hard. She first learns to braid by her sister's hand; at first, it's her hair, but then the lessons turn to archery and how to properly string a bow. Arya learns to stitch, and she has a practiced hand, but she's forever dragging her sisters about to go riding or hunting. Arya has quite the selection of hawks, each wears a braided band around it claw, its color denotes its name.

Lorra and her brothers all have a good relationship, but she is not as close to them as she is her sisters. Since she is the eldest girl, she often helps her mother take care of her younger brothers. When she has time, that is.

At 14 years old; Her mother has started giving her more and more responsibility, its training, for when she has a keep of her own to room. At 14, she's in charge of the kitchen. She oversees the creation of the menu, the stocking of provisions, and what happens to the leftovers. Her mother still double checks her work, but Catelyn even lets Lorra handle most of those duties now.

Lorra has a dire wolf as well as her father, uncle, and siblings

( Names are Subject to change)

Robb = Gray-wind

Lorra= Patience

Hoster = None ( there is a dire wolf pup, but Eddard takes him.)

Sansa= Winter -rose

Arya=Nymeria

Brandon= Duncan ( After Ser Duncan the Tall)

Rickon = Shaggy-dog

Minisa= ( This pup is sent back with Benjen to the wall )

Jon= Ghost

Eddard= Valor

Benjen= Lya

As the eldest daughter, Lorra is the one betrothed to crown prince Joffery.

In this story, however, none of the girls are enamored with Kings Landing; when their father tells them its time to leave, they all follow his orders. However, things do not go as planned. They are all forced to flee.

Arya flees with her dancing master to Bravos.

Sansa manages to escape with Vaymon and Jeyne Poole as well as four stark guardsmen. ( They travel to Riverrun and are the first to reach safety)

Lorra, however, is waylaid by red clocks and is kept in the red keep. She takes on much of Sansa's storyline. However, she leaves with Tyrion and flees with him during the events of the purple wedding.

Once in Essos, she Tyrion and Varys make their way to Daenerys Targaryen. Who is ruling Meeren and has her young son Reago with her. After much deliberation, they are expected in. Lorra first becomes her designer and later one of her handmaidens.

( Daenerys dissolves the marriage of Tryion and Lorra )

Lorra proves to be very knowledgeable and is indispensable when it comes to information about the North. When she is finally safe, she lets her brother know and keeps in regular contact.

Knowing that none of his sisters are in the Capital, Robb withdraws from the war and holds his line at the Riverland border.

With his mother, sister, and newest sister Minisa to protect, Robb takes a much more conservative approach. He sends his mother and youngest sister back to Winterfell with 1/2 of the army and orders to start rebuilding the moat as fast as possible.

The way the story changes in major points

Theon is sent back with Catelyn, Sansa, and Minisa instead of going to the Iron Islands. He and Robb have high trust in each other, and Robb asks him to guard his family.

With no one to rescue in Kingslanding, Robb does not advance past River Lands.

Robb is aware of Daenerys and her Dragons.

Finding Arya becomes a significant plot point.

Robb does not die.

Robb Stark marries Roslin Frey before crossing the bridge, she is sent to Winterfell with his mother and sisters.

Stannis wages war on the south much longer than in Canon

Stannis has three children

Shireen

Edmund

Luthor

Of Robert Baratheon 20 children three live

Edric Storm

Mya Stone

Gendry Waters

Stannis wins over the lords of storms end instead of them siding with Renly

Daenerys kills Stannis

In the end, Lorra marries Edric Storm-Baratheon and becomes the lady of Storms End. ( She and Tyrion still have a good relationship, this creates centuries of good relations between the west and the Stormsland

Lorra becomes a legendary seamstress, she turns the Stormlands into one of the t production capital of the globe.

Lorra and Edric have 7 children.

Sansa marries ( ?) and becomes the lady of Moat Caitlin renamed Winters Gate, and she and her husband take on the new name of Whitetower

Arya marries into the Manderley's; she is based in a port city. She often travels back in forth between Westeros and Essos.

Minisa ends up being courted by Prince Reago. She becomes his first wife.

Reago takes two wives, both for love. He feels he must repopulate the Targaeyn line because of how few are left.

After the events of the long night, bran travels to the citadel to become a master. He becomes a grandmaster in his time. He never marries.

Rickon Stark leads the invasion of the Iron Islands with Theon Grayjoy after the rebel again. Queen Daenerys has them show no mercy, and Theon is raised as the new lord; he must promise to integrate the islands into being productive. ( They become one of the largest producers of food. And by the food, I mean fish. )

Rickon is granted an island for himself and pledges loyalty to house Grayjoy.

He and his wife take the last name of Northson and Rename the island Wolves Mouth.

The North, while having good relations with the entire realm, goes back to its isolated tendencies.

Robb has to focus on integrating and or moving wildlings and dealing with the now-ended nights watch. As well as an expanded kingdom.

Jon ends of being made lord of Hardhome once it is rebuilt, and Hardhome becomes the lord seats of the Winterland. He never marries but does end up having three children who bare the last name of Frostfeind.

The North ends up being the supplier of freshwater and metals. Generating quite a bit of wealth for all of the houses.

Ned to Catelyn

" We named Robb for Robert, and that is well and good, but I want a northern name for her."

" For your sister?"

"nay" "Do not misunderstand your thought brings me great comfort, but nay, it is still too soon."

" Not Lyanna then, but there are still many L names from the stark bloodline; Lysara or Lynara?"

" It is still to close."

" What about Lorra?"

"Lorra"

"Aye, that is a good name."

" Then she shall be Lorra Stark, firstborn daughter of Winterfell."

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leonctte · 5 years

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♔ → westeros presents LEONETTE FOSSOWAY, the LADY of TYRELL. a raven sent word that she bears the resemblance to NATALIE DORMER. the THIRTY-TWO year old FEMALE was EBULLIENT & CONSCIENTIOUS before the dawn of war, but have now become FANCIFUL & PASSIVE. when songs are sung, their verses speak of A SHINING LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL, DISTANT LAUGHTER IN A FIELD OF WILDFLOWERS & SATIN SKIRTS BLOWING ON AN OCEAN BREEZE. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE LANNISTER, but fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

hey demons, its me, ya boi with no self control. this is leonette, my sweet lil babe. think soft jane bennet tbh?? her full biography can be found on her blog if you wanna check it out but come at me for plots! more about her below.

- THE BASICS.

FULL NAME: leonette fossoway AGE: thirty-two TITLE: lady leonette SEAT: cider hall formerly, now highgarden. LOYALTY: house tyrell, house fossoway, house lannister, the reach, the crownlands. LANGUAGES SPOKEN: the common tongue ( fluent ), high valyrian ( fluent ). ALIGNMENT: lawful good MBTI: esfj HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff MOTHER’S NAME: florence fossoway nee. serry FATHER’S NAME: steffon fossoway SIBLINGS, IF ANY: an older brother and sister, one younger sister. ( wc’s ) CHILDREN: gareth, eight. alysanne, three. HEIGHT: 5’6” HAIR COLOUR: golden blonde EYE COLOUR: clear blue PINTEREST BOARD: here !!

- THE HEADCANONS.

HEADCANON #1: if there were a poster child for the perfect southron lady, leonette would be one of the best bets. she was raised with the belief that a lady’s courtesies were her armour, choosing to embrace her softness and allow others to choose her path for her. as well as perfect manners, leonette is well versed in other ladylike pursuits. her voice is crystal clear when singing a pretty hymn, fingers fly naturally across the high harp and her septa commended her on her detailed embroideries as a girl. she believes it is these skills that afforded her the life she has now, married to ser garlan the gallant, of the noble house tyrell.

HEADCANON #2: a devout follower of the seven, leonette attends mass once a week and finds solace in her religion. she believes the gods are merciful, but just, and lives her life as cleanly and as charitably as possible. leonette does what she can for the less fortunate, and truly feels warmth in her heart for those she helps. though she fears her tendency to rely on pretty things and indulges may be a sin against her.

HEADCANON #3: leonette is a mother twice over now, and has one young son and daughter. she is a doting mother, and her life now very much revolves around her children’s safety and contentment. however she indulges them completely, despite warnings from family that she ought to be sterner with them. her children are not with her at dragonstone as she didn’t believe the summit was a place for young children and wanted to keep them as far from harm as possible. her mother-in-law is currently watching over her grandchildren at highgarden and after the news brought by the lord commander she is glad of it.

HEADCANON #4: during the battle of the blackwater, the fossoway family sided with stannis baratheon and so by marriage she now faced her family as enemies of the crown. she begged her husband not to harm any of her kin on the battlefield if he could help it, as her brother and cousins were all there as well as her father. siding against her family has been very hard on her, but she doesn’t feel she has much of a choice otherwise and so it is a burden she must bear.

HEADCANON #5: though she had been content at highgarden, loyalty had called her to kings landing with her dear sister-in-law, margaery. though garlan had travelled with them, there is no doubt that leonette would have gone either way for she feels very protective of the youngest tyrell. though she isn’t the most insightful, or politically minded, she would do anything for her to ensure that she is happy and safe. the tyrell’s are now her family and she is here at dragonstone to represent them more than anything else. she is unsure how she feels about her loyalty to the lannisters, they frighten her more than anything and fear is enough to keep her at their side for now.

- THE PLOT POINTS.

PLOT POINT #1: her marriage to garlan ( wc ), to her, is just how she always imagined it would be. as beautiful and romantic as all the songs promised. she is entirely devoted to him, never had there been a more attentive wife. there isn’t much she wouldn’t do for her husband, and she feels very fortunate to have him in her life and to treat her so kindly. they really are a couple who would walk through fires for the other, a true match made in heaven. you hardly ever see one without the other.

PLOT POINT #2: it would be interesting to have someone who pushes leonette out of her comfort zone. she is very much someone who has found her rut in life and is content to live in it for good, never searching for more beyond the life she already has. she doesn’t question much of what she’s told and so it would be good for her to have a somewhat antagonistic force that makes her grow as a person and find her own voice. she’s a people pleaser, but this is war and so it’s time she learn to assert herself a little.

PLOT POINT #3: i would like to see her interact with someone who’s a memento for the old life she can never return to. as her family is now an enemy to the crown, leonette has had to cut off all ties with them. however now they are all at dragonstone, i’d like to see her reunite with maybe a family member or someone she was close to before they sided with stannis.

- THE PERSONALITY.

ALLOCENTRIC

COMPASSIONATE

EBULLIENT

CONCILIATORY

VIRTUOUS

CONSCIENTIOUS

ARDENT

COURTEOUS

DEBONAIR

GENTLE

CAPTIVATING

METICULOUS

FINICKY

AIRY

SOFT HEADED

DECADENT

FANCIFUL

LOQUACIOUS

FRIVOLOUS

PASSIVE

#rev.intros #* HEADCANON / a brutally soft woman.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 6 years

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Robb Stark x Fem!Lannister Reader

The first time they met,it was love at first sight. He favoured his Tully side,with gorgeous icy-blue eyes and shiny auburn hair,charming every lady in the North with a simple smile and wink. The same could be said about her as well,Princess Y/N Lannister,whose hair gleamed like gold in the sun,and her deep green eyes would remind you of the thick forests the heroes from old Nan's stories would roam. The day Jon Arryn died was the same King Robert decided to choose a new Hand,and who better to choose than the most honorable man in all Westeros,Eddard Stark,Lord of Winterfell,Warden of the North? The young girl,three and ten of age,was a more unique gem than most would imagine,glancing at her innocent visage,and never imagining the kinds of mischief she would cause around King's Landing,more or less with the help of her uncle Tyrion.

A new adventure was to start,and she was the first to get ready for the trip to the North,enthusiastic beyond belief for a change of scenery. Upon their meeting,she was the first of the Lion children to proceed with her courtesies and greeting the Starks,and after her father's conversation with Lord Ned,he ushered the little golden cubs to play with the wolf pups. Like any young heir would,he knelt in front of the Princess,kissed her hand,and smiled at her,like one of those Knights in shining armor from the babe lullabies.

Robb Stark,the young Stark heir,the boy with coppery Tully hair,like a heartfelt Autumn aesthetic,and stormy grey eyes that would intimidate anyone who'd dare look into them,was gazing at the golden maiden,Y/N Lannister,the eldest of the children,who was looking at him with her emerald eyes,like a forest in Spring after a rainy day,and a sparkly white smile that would dazzle anyone looking at her. It took only one look to ignite the spark between the two,that sooner than later would transform into an outright imminent forest fire that would make them question their loyalties more than ever before.

The wolf boy knew he had to somehow show off to the girl,to prove he's worthy of her attention,and along with Theon Greyjoy,Jon Snow and Bran Stark,challenged Joffrey and Tommen Baratheon to a fair match of sparring,age-accordingly. Joffrey accepted the challenge,as the Lion Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne,but was easily defeated by Robb,much to his sister's glee. Common knowledge stated that the elder Baratheon boy was never one to lose,so instead of passing the sword to his younger brother,for the next fight,as Robb did,he tried attacking the boy,but his attempted was easily stopped by his sister,who took him by the scruff of his robes and scowled at him.

Y/N:Very honorable,Prince Charming.Is this how you try to impress Sansa?By cheating like a vermin?How disgraceful.Well,not that it came as a surprise,really. Joffrey:Shut your mouth,sister,or you are next! Y/N:Oh,is that so?Then what's stopping you?Clearly not honour,to be precise.

Pushing him forward,she gripped the vial necklace,looking at him threateningly,as he turned around to glare at her,then lunged forward with the dull sparring blade. The girl only smirked at his poor attempt at scaring her,blocked the blow with her left hand,then strode forward with a metal object glinting at his throat-a recently sharpened dagger,that she hid in her dress sleeve.

Y/N:Is this going to calm you down,kid? Joffrey:How dare you mock your King?! Y/N:King?Please,you are a frail princeling at best,don't bother me with your meaningless threats. Joffrey:Just you wait,sister dear,I will become King and the first thing I do is have your head on a spike! Y/N:*winks*That is,if you can do it before that poison kick in~. Robert:What is going on here? Ned:Robb,what happened? Y/N:*grins*There is nothing to be concerned about,father.I and Joffrey were just playing around,as usual,nothing harmful. Robert:*laughs*Is that so?Look,Ned,my dear Y/N is beating Joffrey just like Lyanna used to pulverize you at every sparring! Ned:*sighs*I'd rather not be reminded. Y/N:Great memories should be cherished,Lord Ned!They are the best things we have. Robert:Look at her,she makes me so proud.Spoken like a true Baratheon! Y/N:*clears throat*On another note,Robb here promised to show me around,so I shall be on my way.

As she did a mock-courtesy,she hurried to the young wolf swiftly,hooked her arm to his,and subtly dragged him away from the commotion,much to his amusement.

Y/N:Would it matter at all if I were to apologise for his behaviour?He's always been this petty,believe it or not.Not even our Lady Mother can stop him from being...an obsolete brat. Robb:*chuckles*Worry not,my Princess,there is no need for apologise.More so,I had quite a good laugh seeing you defeat him so easily. Y/N:Oh,that was nothing He's all talk and no bite,lunging blindly and so on.You could defeat him with your eyes closed,I am sure. Robb:My lady thinks very highly of me,I must say,I am flattered. Y/N:After all the showing off you pulled,am I supposed to say anything else? Robb:I daresay you did not enjoy it? Y/N:Seven Hells,no,on the contrary.It was much more entertaining than whatever tourneys we have every so often in King's Landing.It's always the same dull show,always the same victor,and so on. Robb:Many things differ here,up in the North.I believe it is safe to assume this journey came to be a rather welcomed change of pace? Y/N:You have NO idea.I feel like I can finally breathe,after all these years. Robb:Whatever could you mean by that? Y/N:You mean here came no word of the Glorious Stench that is embedded in the city?Starting from the great Flea's Bottom,literally everything and everyone stinks of...well...*shrugs* I'm sure you ca guess. Robb:*laughs*I was not aware my lady has such a great sense of humour.Nevertheless,if I could be so bold to say,such a sweet,flowery scent like yours has never gotten around this far North. Y/N:Oh,you like it?*grins*I've been told the perfume and oils have been made from the most mesmerising and famous flowers from the Tyrell Gardens,in Highgarden,down South.Needless to say,I am rather pleased with the quality as well.Then again,even such a lovely flower would wilt if it were to stay even for a moment in King's Landing...*chuckles*for obvious reasons. Robb:Truth is,my lady,if I were not used to drinking ale,I'd have gotten drunk in your sweet scent~.

At that comment,she only laughed merrily and shook her head,ruffling his mess of hair. Instead of properly showing her the buildings,he took her to Godswood,where he started telling her stories of the forest,the old Gods and of his ancestry,which greatly intrigued the young girl,who in turn told him of all the ridiculous songs the bards would sing,and how dull everything seemed to be in the South. The journey proved to be rather lovely for her,as she spent most of the time being courted by the young Stark child,who may or may not have enjoyed her company more than he would have hoped,and so,he earned a sweet,chaste kiss from her,just before her leaving back to her colourless home. The deal with the Starks has been struck,and now Ned Stark is the new Hand if the King,replacing the deceased Jon Arryn,and he's on his way to his post along with his daughters and their wolves. Unfortunately,Joffrey proved to be an outright jerk,and caused so much trouble,that his mother ordered for the wolves to be decapitated,to which Y/N protested vehemently,taking Arya's side.

Thankfully,Robert has always preferred his young girl,and let her take the decision,to which she nodded,glaring at her brother full of hatred,then summon Ned and his youngest girl,along with the two direwolves. Her plan was to pretend the animals have been killed,but instead,they would be chased away,that being their only means of survival in the harsh lion cage,but it must remain a secret,especially from naïve Sansa or the cruel Cersei. However,this only brought misfortune on the Starks,since after the King died,Joffrey was crowned,which lead to the decapitation of the most honorable and noble person alive,Arya ran away from the kingdom,Sansa was to marry Tyrion,and Joffrey was to marry Margaery Tyrell,who came with the whole family,after "saving" us from the "Blackwater Battle",caused by Stannis.

Clearly,in the meantime,Robb,the Young Wolf and now claimed King in the North was also fighting back,which could only mean trouble,and a confusion in the allegiance of the young Lioness,who was getting more and more disgusted with her family's lack of morals. It took a long time,but she convinced Tywin to become an "ambassador" between the Lannisters ans their allies,in order to defeat the Army of the North,especially after having heard of the Frey's and Bolton's betrayal of their cause. Much to her sorrow,Robb has married Jeyne Westerling,a Lannister lackey and pawn in the bigger scheme,which went against his promise to Lord Walder Frey. Instead,Lady Catelyn's brother,Edmure,was to wed a Frey girl,and the wedding would take place at the Twins...where a massacre would replace the joy of the feast.

The Lannister girl slipped a vial of strong poison in the hands of the Queen of Thorns and left in the middle of the night with a forged scroll that states a change of plans for the Young Wolf. She galloped faster than ever before,and after days,she arrived in front of the closed door of the Twins,when she jumped off the horse,got the guards to open the doors,and ran inside,getting easily horrorstruck at the gruesome sight in front of her. "CEASE THIS MADNESS!" she yelled,as she,too,got shot by two arrows,one in the shoulder,and the other in the shin.in all that commotion. Walder Frey raised his arm to stop the shooting,recognising the young girl.

Frey:What is it,Lady Lannister?With what purpose do we have the honour of seeing your Grace? Y/N:Lord Frey,it seems I have arrived here just in time.I came here with new of a change in the grand plans of my Lord Grandfather.This scroll in my hand states that he wants to take Robb and Catelyn Stark as war hostages,first and foremost,rather than have them killed in a bloody,meaningless carnage.I have been sent here to take them back,though,it seems to me like that will be an easy task,having the boy shot in the back as well.My reinforcements are at the end of the forest,awaiting our arrival in haste. Frey:That is a rather radical change in Lord Lannister's plans,however if he dared send his own granddaughter for this feat,then what else am I to do? Y/N:Robb Stark,the terms of you coming out alive of this room,along with your Lady Mother,is for you to bend the knee in front of me and acknowledge your defeat.The rest is to come as judgement in front of the King.

He looked confused as his former paramour,until he realised the truth behind the slithery lies,and complied to her every word,and following her,was allowed to take a horse for him and his mother,and his freed direwolf trailing behind them. At the end of the forest,she took a change of route,stirring in the opposite direction- To the North.

Y/N:I am rather pleased to see you remember our secret sign. Robb:Hard to miss. Y/N:I hear you are a married man now.How does that life style suit you? Robb:Rather than this pointless small talk,why don't you tell the truth? Y/N:What,how I saved your life?Simple.I've forsaken mine own. Cat:What does this mean? Y/N:You do not realise,do you?You really think Tywin Lannister would stop the massacre he planned so well?No chance. Cat:Then how did you do it? Y/N:I'm a great liar,of course.I made a deal with Olenna Tyrell to have Joffrey killed,convinced my grandfather that I have potential and no use for him in a larger,marriage plan,and here I am,an ambassador,risking my head to save you. Robb:Why would you do that?You are our enemy.We killed your kin. Y/N:Tsk.Spare me,Robb Stark.You have never been MY enemy.On the contrary,might I say.Regardless,we arrived to your camp,it seems,and this calls for a huge meeting,I dare say. Robb: First,we must get healed.Join me to my tent.

The two got to his personal tent,and go attended to by the healers,after he told the head of each house there will be an important meeting so they could plan future strategies. The girl said nothing to the man she just saved,and simply ignored him as she was being treated by some healer girl called Talisa. Not much time passed,when Robb put on his warm clothes and motioned to the Lannister girl to follow him to the meeting,along with his mother and the rest of the important North men,to discuss the future of the War.It was no surprise that the girl was almost assaulted by the chiefs,being seen as a threat,and not knowing the truth being the Wedding.

Robb:Captains,listen very clearly,for I will not repeat myself,and any other attack against Lady Y/N will be seen as treason.The Wedding was ploy created by Walder Frey and Roose Bolton along with Tywin Lannister since the very beginning,and the outcome would have meant the end of us,if it were not for her shrewd plan that mean going against her own House and family.From now on,she will be under my protection,is that clear?

It took a few inaudible chattering around the tent until they finally reached a mutual agreement.

Robb:Very well then. Y/N:If you do not mind,I want to know the reason of this war.Was it only because of Lord Eddard's death?If so,I have to confirm that the Lannister and the whole Small Council had nothing to do with it.It was solely Joffrey's spur of the moment decision and he could not be stopped...However,he is very dead now. Cat:What about my little daughters,Sansa and Arya? Y/N:*confused*Excuse me? Cat:Sansa and Arya,my girls,are they safe? Y/N:I think there has been a well used misunderstanding here.Arya fled the castle the day of Ned's decapitation.Nobody has seen her ever since.If you take my word for it,rumour has it she was taken by Yoren,who was told by her father to take her to the Wall,where she could be safe.I know naught of anything further on her account. Robb:You mean to say the Lannisters lied once again about having two hostages? Y/N:Could it be more obvious than that?My own mother manipulated Sansa for a long time and made her believe she was under her wing,until that dreadful day happened.Not anymore,since after the day of the Blackwater Battle,she too fled the castle. Cat:*sobs*My two girls are all alone in this world?They could be dead by now-... Y/N:I believe they would be doing far better out there,than surrounded by enemies.I do not know of Arya's whereabouts,and nothing was heard even by Varys,but I know Sansa is very safe,guarded by Sandor Clegane,and on their way to the Eyrie,to her Tully Aunt. Cat:You let her go with that beast of a man?That...that monster?! Y/N:He is not what he seems to be and I trust Sandor Clegane with my life.He is strong and loyal to me,he would never hurt Sansa. Robb:Mother,calm down,it is all for the best.We have nothing to be concerned about anymore. Y/N:I am not sure if you would be interested in this,but I have news of the Dragon Queen.My own uncle Tyrion was sent to the Slaver Cities to aid her the best he can and bring her back to Westeros as soon as possible.If she does,we could easily join our forces with hers and make sure she takes the Iron Throne. Robb:How do you know all this? Y/N:I am a Lannister,of course.Underestimate me not,Robb,for I have ears everywhere,much like our dearest eunuch,Varys. Robb:Then all we have to do is hold the North until she decides to reclaim her birth right,correct? Y/N:*sighs*Hopefully,sooner,rather than later.With grandfather dead,everything in King's Landing is an outright mess. Robb:Tywin Lannister is dead?! Y/N:*nods*I see word has not reached you yet.The day I left,Joffrey died,my Lord Grandfather accused my uncle of this,and Oberyn Martell chose to be his champion.However,his ego got the best of him and he lost against the Mountain,which got Tyrion to be put back in prison,awaiting death.Many thanks to my father,Jaime, and Varys for helping him escape,hence his new task. Robb:*ruffles his hair*Affairs in the South are much more complicated than I imagined. Y/N:Best not to bother with insignificant problems.What is in the South should remain there.The way I see it,we should return to protect the North as best as we can,and make sure there will be no Bolton or any other attack.I am not sure young Bran or Rickon could keep it all by themselves. Karstark:My King,how do you know this one is not telling falsehoods? Robb:I trust Y/N with my life.If anyone has something to say to or about her,first tell that to me.I admit,marrying Jeyne Westerling has been a mistake and I take full respon- Y/N:Hold up- Robb:Sorry? Y/N:Just so everyone would know about the Westerlings,that House threw their banners away to gain our favour.Jeyne was used by her mother to make sure this whole plan could happen.She made sure her daughter would bare your child so you would not leave her.I only heard you got wed,but not with whom. Robb:My honour has once again blinded my vision.I beg everyone's pardon and may you continue giving me good-willed advice,for the North's glory! All his bannermen got to their feet and started yelling "King in the North!" loudly,making him grin victoriously.

After the meeting was over,Robb welcomed the golden haired girl to his tent,where she would sleep until they arrived back to Winterfell.There,she stayed on a chair,picking up the nearest book,trying to take her mind away from all the problems and schemes flooding her brain so much that she did not realise the Wolf King took it from her hands. Robb:You seem troubled,my love.Is something the matter? Y/N:I am...I do not know.I just wish your father did not accept that position.Maybe all this...mess would not have happened. Robb:*sighs*That is true,yet time cannot go back,so we do what we have to do. Y/N:Nothing makes sense and it never did.We never played the Game of Thrones,but the ones who do are Varys and Littlefinger,using the stronger Houses as their pawns.Littlefinger...that son of a whore,I wish to burn him alive. Robb:I will allow you that,first occasion should occur.Until then,why do you not try to relax.You are safe here,I guarantee. Y/N:Safe...For how long?I am still shaken by the Red Wedding incident.I never thought... Robb:It is over,my lady.It is over,and you are the reason both I and my lady mother are alive.I owe you my life. Y/N:No,you do not.All you owe me is to promise you will live. Robb:*chuckles*That would be easy to do. Y/N:*smirks*Definitely.Marry again,and I will not save you. Robb:What if the person I decide to marry,this time,seriously,is you? Y/N:You must jest,Robb,and I do not like this one.It is a ridiculous proposition. Robb:Why would you think I am japing,my sweet lady?Courting you was not a clear way to express my affections for you? Y/N:*smirks*Tell that to your bannermen,My King.Lord Stark,marrying a treacherous Lannister!What are we going to do with him?He is just going to get himself killed again,and us along with him!Why not just side with the Crown,it would be the same thing! Robb:*chuckles*Do not be ridiculous,nothing of the sort would happen. Y/N:Why not just wait until everything calms down?Wait for the Targaryen girl to take over the show and just lay low for a while?Let her do all the scheming,for a change. Robb:Brilliant idea,my love,and with that,we could finally have a happy ending. Y/N:Do you think anyone could have a happy ending in this bloody mess of a game? Robb:If we strive for it,I see do not see why not. With a small smile,he caressed her face gently,stormy eyes looking into her own forest ones,and leaned in,kissing her for the second time,this time with more love and passion than the first time around.She happily obliged,returning the kiss with just as much fire,playing with her hands in his hair slowly,until they let go,catching their breathe. Much to his confusion,the girl started laughing,leaning back on the chair and covering her face.With a stutter caused by laughter,she managed to say the cause of her amusement was his messy,rebel hair,sticking out in all directions,to which he could only chuckle too.

That night,they stayed in bed,under the warm furs,embracing one another and telling each other funny stories,just like during the good old days,when they were still young and naive. That night,they were not King and Lady,or Stark and Lannister,instead,they were just Robb and Y/N,two young,beautiful teenagers in warm,innocent heat of love.

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