#jaime lannister x niece!reader

[chloe-skywalker]

Consequences - Jaime Lannister

Jaime x fem!reader (niece/daughter)

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 744

Summary: Y/n likes to learn how to defend herself, and her uncle Jaime wants to help. Bonding time with at least one of his secret children. But will it last?

Authors Note: I think Jaime was screwed over. He deserved a happy ending but they had him go back to Cersei! Thats fucked he desevered better. And he would’ve been a good father, poor guy.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

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“Now, what are you doing?” Jaime asked slightly amused at how he made the princess jump. He didn't mean to startle her, but he was curious when he saw her sneak off. So he followed his so called niece, to see what she was up to.

“Praciting.” Y/n answered her uncle not looking him in the eyes. She was ashamed, she knew she had no reason to be. But she wasn’t supposed to even be touching weapons. Her mothers orders. Y/n didn’t want to see the look of disappointment or appallment on his face that was on her mothers when she found out. “I’ll be going.”

“I didn’t say you had to leave.” Jaime spoke up confused on her actions, ready to flee as fast as possible.

Y/n turned around to face him, with a furrowed brow she asked. “Isn’t that why you followed me here?”

“No.” Jaime shook his head walking closer to her. “I just wanted to see what you were up to. I’m not telling you to stop, you were doing quite good with that sword.”

He couldn’t help but be proud of what he saw. She had no one to help or train her but she was good. He was definitely taking credit for it in his head. It’s in her blood.

“I’ve been told that if anyone found me here doing this again that I’d be punished.” Y/n grimaced remembering her mother’s exact words.

Jaime lifted her chin with his hand, making her look him in the eyes. He smiled hoping he could encourage her. “I won’t tell. Promise.”

With that Jaime decided that he was gonna help Y/n. He was going to be her teacher, he’d rather she know how to defend herself than not. It’s also an excuse for him to get to spend more time with y/n.

So from then on Jaime and Y/n would meet in the hidden quiet location they had found, and Jaime taught her how to use all kinds of weapons. Plus some hand to hand.

And it was all going well till a certain someone’s little birdies decided to tell the Queen. (Pyter Belish)

^     ^     ^ 

It was a cool day in KingsLanding, perfect for teaching Y/n some archery Jaime thought. He was on his way to her room to walk with her.

“So I was thinking today we could work on-” He stopped speaking as he shut the bedroom door behind him and didn’t see Y/n anywhere. “Y/n?”

“I don’t think it’s good for us to be doing this anymore uncle.” Y/n’s voice came out soft and Jaime swears he could hear it wobble as she spoke.

“But you love-” Jaime stopped in his tracks when he walked over to see her standing on the balcony. As she turned to look at him Jaime was floored. Looking at her face, seeing her split lip and bruised cheek, he was raging on the inside but he didn’t want to scare her so he approached her slowly. “What happened?”

Y/n could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want her uncle to see her like this, that’s why she was hiding in her room. “I was spotted training the other day. . . Mother was not happy.”

Jaime cupped one side of her face gently. “Your mother did this to you?”

Y/n gave a stiff nod, biting her lip. “I do not want you to incur any punishment like I have or worse uncle Jaime. I think it best to not do the lessons anymore.”

Jaime pulled her into him, wrapping her up into a tight hug. Trying to comfort her, and make her feel protected. “No, no you love learning how to use a sword, throw knives, hand to hand combat, and I will not let you be defenseless or have something you love taken away from you.”

Y/n pulled back to look into Jaimes eyes worried for him. “What are you gonna do?”

Jaime smiled at her concern for him, brushing one hand through her hair. “Don’t worry about that, just let me take care of it. You just focus on what you wanna learn next.”

Y/n nodded resting her head against his chest. All the while Jaime was thinking about all the things he was gonna say, ripping into his sister. How dare she touch y/n like that. Jaime was not gonna let that slide.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld @starkleila

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[facelesswoman666]

Hello everyone i have something for you guys, for my Game of Thrones fans ✨

A lion thinks with his loins, not his head!

An (Uncle) Jaime Lannister x (fem/Niece) Lannister Reader

I wanted to write this as a thank you to everyone who has supported me recently and my last post, please keep supporting.

This is 18+ as per usual, and it’s not heavy on plot but it’s not extremely light on plot, who am i kidding it’s pure smut, enjoy! xo

warning, public sexual activity

Minors DNI, otherwise enjoy.

Court became increasingly dull, and minutes refused to tick by as if a broken clock had been strung upon the throne room walls. Pale red stone walls built strong, to protect its regal inhabitants.

I found i never adopted the proper acquiescence it takes to become a lady of the court. I fiddled, to no end, so much so that my mother corrected me endlessly. Although Cersei Lannister wasn’t typically everyone’s mother, in fact being birthed into the Lannister bloodline seemed rarer these days than it had been.

“Princess, have you drifted away?” a soft, rugged voice queried to me on my balcony.

“No uncle.” My simper was delighted at the intrusion of Jaime, his hair sand blonde and shone like gold under the blaring sun. He truly was the human embodiment of a lion, brave as he was strong.

The heat of childish embarrassment creeped up my thighs. I was handed a single lantana flower, peppered with smaller clusters of petals layered upon each other. “Red and gold” he stated “to match the colours of your pretty dress my dear”

His hand lingered atop mine, it was as if letting go would be a tragedy of unforgivable nature. He stroked a thumb over my delicate skin, dared himself to kiss it, up my arms, to my décolletage.

That manor of behaviour was unbecoming of a maiden.

“You’re hand, is so soft my princess” he spoke aloud, it roused a giggle from me.

“Do you go about stroking the hands of many princesses?” i raised an eyebrow in curiosity, searching his features for an answer.

He mouthed, in exaggeration. Only You, my love.

I could not, it was forbidden to crack myself open in sexual submission for the man i had come to adore, love even. I was taught, that to lose your maidenhood before marriage was a vile and disgusting example of anti-religious misconduct on behalf of both persons.

He gazed into my eyes, those gorgeous emerald eyes, he acted as a man starved. Who was i to deny him? I was a lady, a respectable lady. His hand rested now on my waist and slipped higher and higher in the seconds that went by “Jaime” He hushed me and brought a single finger to my agape mouth.

He placed a single, sweet, stolen kiss on my desperate lips. The kisses we stole in privacy were the most precious kisses i had ever experienced. The ones i held close when i had no company. My solitude was the time when i acted on those encounters, fingers that played between my thighs.

Now, his fingers played between my thighs, above the cover of my dress. It’s thin, silken fabric easily removed, open access. A peach torn open, the juice licked from between its flesh. “shhh, my love, let us have this moment” His voice rendered as but a whisper to my ear. I could feel his low grunt against my neck, as it raised my hairs to stand upright.

His fist entwined with my hair and he tugged harshly, my neck strained to meet his eye from behind, lustful, pupils flaring in passionate flame. He gripped my pelvic bone from the front, forefinger and thumb bruised either side of me. I whimpered and he pressed stiffly into my ass, hardened at the feeling of softness and moist warmth.

He rocked me forward into the wall of the balcony, i winced at each forced impact. The pleasure arose in me from our prohibited intimacy. I wanted him to fuck me. I would beg him to take me. Ravish me, anywhere. I burned for him. And he for me. Kisses, sloppy open mouthed kisses upwards towards my jaw. His fingers splayed across my jaw, tightened around it, his grip vice like.

“You are so fucking beautiful” His palm groped the peak of my breasts, massaging my nipples in rigorous movement. The bodice of my gown prised from my torso, the most compromising of positions for a lady of my rank in nobility. Jaime’s moans became lewd, dirty in their nature, poking himself further into the back of me.

I had to turn, to look him in the face, to place my hand gently upon his unblemished cheek and ask him to stop “Jaime, my love” he interrupted my speech with a peck of his lips “Please, i beg we may continue somewhere more private?” He hands rubbing feverishly up my waist, over my breasts repeatedly. i steadied his arms and kissed him deeply, i took his hand in mine.

A look of wonder shone in his eyes as i lead him deeper into my sleeping chambers “Let us continue, unburdened by outside scrutiny”

#game of thrones smut #jaime lannister x reader #smut #got fic #game of thrones fic #fanfic #jaime lannister #got imagine

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

4 - Standing Behind a Betrayal

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

Length: 13.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Robert needs to know too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Robert, my sweet-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He named you protector of the realm.”

“He did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stannis is your older brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just this once.

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

What was that answer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if we lose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a new King now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he stands alone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Varys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then that makes the heir-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He won’t bend, you know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #robb stark #asoisf imagine

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 33

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Cersei POV

Words: 3724

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 34 Part 35

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Her glare was unrelenting and if Ser Kevan Lannister hadn’t known her since the very day she was born, perhaps he would have been unnerved by the venom in her sharp green eyes. The eyes of his older brother Tywin. That’s what Cersei’s glare reminded him of. Out of all the children that Tywin sired, Cersei was the most like him without a doubt. Her abrasive demeanor as she refused to relax in the carriage that traveled to the port of Casterly Rock that led out to the Sunset Sea. It would be the only way to travel to Dorne at the moment. The land that led to the Dornish Marches was ravaged by war; scars from the wildfire and bloodstains soaking into the ground. Towns and estates alike were arming up, afraid of what Aerys may do next now that the threat of Rhaegar had subsided momentarily.

“Who even knows if Oberyn Martell is still alive.” Cersei spat, her elegant fingers gripping at her knees as she glares at her uncle who was in charge of transporting her safely to Dorne. “He could have died in the most recent wildfire episode. There still hasn’t been a body count of those who have perished.”

Kevan sighed at his niece’s belligerent cruelty and disregard for the man she was scheduled to marry. A valid question though: was Oberyn and the others still alive? No message had been sent from Rhaegar’s army to Tywin for help. “If Lord Tywin demands that I deliver you safely to Doran Martell, then I will humbly carry out that demand.”

“You’ve always been a spineless man with no original thought. As long as I can remember you’ve been at my father’s beck and call.”

She was trying to make him angry so that his guard would slide down. He knew her tricks though and had been warned thoroughly by Tywin to not listen too much to Cersei’s jabs. It was how she best manipulated people. Family didn’t matter to her as long as she got what she wanted from them. Kevan didn’t exactly know when his niece had changed from a sweet girl, the apple of everyone’s eye, to this calculating woman that watched his every twitch.

“He is my lord liege and even though he’s your father, he’s your lord liege as well. You must obey him.”

Of course women must be obedient to men. Cersei thought bitterly to herself and pursed her painted lips. She had to think of a way to get out of this. Originally she had agreed with her father’s plan to marry Oberyn, even if he was a philandering Dornishman. Even accepted her fate as long as the darkin completed his job. There was utter silence from the darkin’s end. It had been weeks since her last correspondence to him; he should have been able to kill (y/n) and get Jaime by now for Cersei had great suspicions that Jaime was with her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Jaime disappeared the night Cersei set fire to (y/n)’s room. She knew her brother better than she knew herself. And Cersei was certain that following the days before the fire, he had fallen for (y/n). How stupid of Jaime to be attracted to his other sister. Cersei nearly laughed at the thought and the morbid irony of it. From one sister to another. His twisted affections would have lead him to saving (y/n) if he found her in danger. They never did find her body. Only the charred remains of (y/n)’s maid.

Internally Cersei scowls at the thought of the maid. Stupid girl. She could have lived if she had just walked away like Cersei told her to do. Of course she would have never really let the maid live if she had listened to Cersei and walked out of the room. There could be no witness to her sororicide.

“You think this is your victory?” The maid with short hair had bitterly smiled. “You are wrong, Cersei. You’ve always been wrong.”

She had been standing right in front of (y/n)’s bed that faced the door. For the life of Cersei she couldn’t remember her name, but in the long run it didn’t matter. Cersei had been forced to bludgeon the maid until she was a crumpled mess on the ground.

“I know the past year has been hard for you. With (y/n)’s death and Jaime vanishing-”

“I could care less about (y/n).” Her words were quick and ready on her tongue like a lashing. “Jaime might as well be dead with her.”

He couldn’t believe the remorseless words Cersei hissed out. Jaime and Cersei had been inseparable in their early years, even to the point where Cersei would pretend to be Jaime in order to do the things that he did like sword training. Kevan wanted to sum it up to trauma of all the events that had happened to her in a short amount of time. The wound of losing her mother at a young age hadn’t healed. All of her siblings were gone. She was the only child sired by Tywin Lannister left. And she was being forced to go to the desert land of Dorne.

Not looking forward to the sea voyage either, Kevan was aware that this would be a long journey for they had to travel along the coast of Westeros all the way to Sunspear. They couldn’t risk being spotted by any of Aerys’s allies for it would surely raise questions. Being with Cersei the entire time, it was by no means a vacation.

Slowly the carriage pulls to a stop and Cersei could hear the obnoxious squawks of seagulls who scavenged the harbor in search of food. A number of people were milling about, going on with their daily lives; completely ignorant of Cersei as she was helped down by another guard. All together her company amounted to five Lannister guards including her uncle. Luggage was being transported from the top of the cart to the ship waiting out on the water. Red sails billowed lazily against the breeze, every so often revealing the golden lion embroidered onto it. The smell of fish assaulted all of her senses as fishing boats docked and unloaded their day’s work.

If she ran now, maybe she could find a place to lay low until they stopped searching for her. Cersei’s mind was working fast to come up with a sure fire plot to escape.

Kevan Lannister, as if reading her mind, places a hand on her shoulder and steers her to the dock; ignoring her slightly dragging feet, trying to prolong her departure.

I’m not going to Dorne. By the might of the gods I WILL not go to Dorne. Cersei screamed to herself over and over again even as she walked down the wooden pier, her heels clicking roughly against the sea breeze warped wood.

Experimentally, Cersei glances over the dock and into the water to gauge how deep it was. She was fairly good at swimming, although her gown would cause issues and weigh her down. Her heart was pounding nauseatingly hard and she felt her stomach churning with uneasiness. If the darkin did complete his task, how would he find her?

The closer they approached the Lannister ship that Tywin had readied for her, the more anxious she grew. This couldn’t happen. They didn’t even know if Oberyn was alive! How could Tywin send her blindly without knowing her fiance's fate? Did he know something that she didn’t?

She hated it. Hated Tywin. Hated Oberyn. Hated (y/n).

Hated Jaime even. He abandoned her for (y/n).

She stops in her steps despite Kevan trying to pull her along. Digging in her heels she forces her uncle to look back at her. They were just a few inches from the plank that led up to the ship. Men were still milling around them with her chests filled with expensive clothes and part of her generous dowry that Doran had requested.

Cersei grits her teeth, eyes wild and slightly startling Kevan. “I’m not going to Dorne.”

There was little pity he felt for Cersei and her furocity. Mixed with a bit of admiration. Even now Cersei was too stubborn to admit defeat. “I’m afraid you are.”

Two Lannister guards have appeared behind Cersei so that the only way for her to escape was to jump into the water. Her weighty skirts would certainly drag her to a watery grave.

Rage and tears burned behind her eyes as she is forced up to the deck of the ship then led to her own personal room. It was small, dark, and utterly depressing with only a small porthole to look out of. It guaranteed no escape. Tywin would not risk losing his last child. Not that the room was all that terrible; there was a beautiful dark wood desk and plenty of oil lamps to light up the room. Her bed even had some of her own linens from her bed in Casterly Rock. Everything to make her cell comfortable. There was nothing that could comfort her though. It was the end of the line for her.

A lioness being backed into a cage. The panic was immediate in her when she put one step forward then another, but her face was calm. For even though panic had seized her, so did anger and with anger came the desire for retribution.

Deck hands were bumbling around above preparing to set sail to Dorne. The journey would be a long one and with the knowledge that she was not a willing occupant, Kevan made the wise choice to sequester Cersei off to her own room. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” He stood at the threshold of her door, looking into her room at a safe distance.

“Release me, that’s what I need.”

Exasperated with his niece, Kevan shook his head and closed the door. Cersei could hear the click of a lock. They were definitely taking all necessary precautions for her.

She wanted to rage, to scream and bang her fists against the door. Spill every curse that she knew. That would be unbecoming for a lady of her tier. Instead she huffed out hot air and angrily sat at her small desk. The events that led up to her capture were replaying in Cersei’s mind. Tywin’s disappointed gaze as he basically said that (y/n) was better than Cersei for marrying Rhaegar all on her own without any schemes or planning.

How did they expect her to stay peacefully in her prison when her thoughts were running wild. She had lost her own father’s favor. His slight comment on (y/n) made it clear to Cersei that his opinion on the pitiful Lannister girl had brightened considerably after her supposed death. (y/n) stole everyone from her. The moment she was conceived had been the end for Cersei and her perfect family.

Out of frustration, Cersei swiped all of the contents that had decorated her desk off onto the floor in a loud clatter. Her life shouldn’t have taken this turn. Before (y/n) had been born, Cersei’s life had been going up and up. She was the center of her mother’s attention and the pride of her father. Yet no one had asked how she felt about Joanna having another baby. When her mother gave the family the news that she was with child once more, Cersei felt the indignation of not being consulted. She knew a six year old had little say in family decisions but it was still a hard truth to swallow for young Cersei; she who thought the whole world belonged to her.

Then came that squawking creature that should have died at birth. Tywin should have never tried to revive the child and just leave her be. Everything around her rotted; Jaime had Tywin’s favoritism due to him being the heir and future lord, and (y/n) had secured Joanna’s affections. Leaving nothing for Cersei.

The darkin was supposed to change things. All those late night rendezvous with a former member of the Golden Company who still had ties to the assassins. The gold she had stolen from her father’s own coffers to get the information she desired could buy an entire town. A sinister whisper had bugged her from the night where she thought (y/n) was finally dead. That whisper taunted her that (y/n) wasn’t dead, that the girl had somehow survived.

No, Cersei had thought to herself that was impossible. (y/n) would be burned beyond recognition. There was absolutely no way that (y/n) could have survived.

Yet there was that whisper that kept her up at night. It made her anxious and doubt herself. They hadn’t found her body. No remains, not even an article of clothing while the maid’s corpse was charred and difficult to scrape off of the ground.

Cersei put her head in her hands.

The hours drummed against her skull, stretching to unbearable lengths that had Cersei knocking on her own door to be let out. A small stretch and the salty ocean air were all the entertainment that was offered to her. Her room had been slowly closing in on her and she needed out but there was no one to answer her. Perhaps her Uncle Kevan wanted her to be out of sight and out of mind. Compared to his older brother, Kevan was made of weaker material. The man even had a soft spot for her misshapen brother.

She hadn’t thought much of Tyrion, even when he disappeared from Casterly Rock. Ser Kevan had been concerned and sent a small search party to scour the surrounding areas big and small. Cersei had figured they would find his dead body fairly quickly, but much like with (y/n) nothing had been found.

It became clear after five more minutes of knocking that no one was going to answer her let alone allow her out of her cell. She would be forced to simmer in her anger which was never a good thing.

Always underestimated, no one ever expected the actual intelligence that Cersei possessed just because she was a woman. That was why she was smarter. Cersei found men easy to manipulate moreso.

Her mind had just started working when her door opened. Timidly, her uncle steps in with a tray of food. Was it already supper time?

Cersei glanced out of the dirty porthole to gauge the time of day but it was difficult with the grime that caked the glass. Ears trained on the noises behind her as Ser Kevan settled her tray down on her desk. He noticed the strewn items on the ground, some broken. “Dinner.”

“I can see that. Why didn’t anyone open the door when I knocked on it?” She snapped her face back toward him, her green eyes deadly slits.

“No one heard. Cersei, we must discuss your etiquette and behavior in Dorne. You can’t act like this when you meet Doran Martell. You will be representing not just your father, but all of Casterly Rock. His brother is risking quite a lot in this war. As is Tywin. . . There are certain expectations set for you.” Kevan stands tall trying to pass a formidable aura. “And remember that you did agree to this all.”

Partially. Tywin had told her that he had offered her hand in marriage to Oberyn Martell, he didn’t necessarily ask for her approval of the matter. All she could do was let the cards fall where they may. She was holding out hope that Oberyn did perrish in the deadly wildfire. Oberyn’s death may very well be her only way out of this mess.

Cersei was ready to utter her reply before the ship sharply leaned to the side making Ser Kevan take a tumble and nearly fall right into his niece who was trying to keep her balance. The boards that composed the ship shivered at the impact. An ear splitting banging reverberated in Cersei’s skull. Vaguely the sound of bells could be heard above. Bells and battle horns.

“Stay here!” Kevan hissed at her and rushed to the door, slamming it closed right in her face as she had tried to slip out.

What Cersei didn’t know at the time was that the cruel gods had smiled down upon her and granted her wish to never set foot in Dorne. Her answer came in the shape of pirates as they fought off the Lannister men. Smoke filled the sea and lungs of men. They had been laying in wait for the perfect prey. Patience paid off. Isn’t that what Tywin had always told Cersei?

Excitement above, Cersei stalked around her small room anxious. She couldn’t even see what was going on.

There was so much yelling and screaming she could hear; who was winning?

The scuffling of boots was growing closer to her room. Other nearby rooms were being broken into, hinges torn off or doors destroyed entirely with swords. Only a matter of time before they reached her.

Jumping away from her door as it’s kicked in violently, Cersei prepares herself for whoever it was attacking the ship.

“What treasure have we found here?” The sultry voice of a woman enters before the owner makes her appearance. Much to Cersei’s dismay, this stranger is incredibly striking with a wild mass of pitch black curls that frame a long, dark, face. In those curls were wilted flowers the hue of dried blood. They were scattered artistically in her hair. Her eyes, so rich with brown that they almost appeared a rusty red. Voluptuous body partially hidden by a captain’s coat that was three sizes too big. Thick brows scrunch together before lifting in a pleasant manner.

Men move behind her, ransacking more of the ship but leaving their apparent female captain to her own devices. A few take a peek inside of the room before she waves them off. Their gazes were not the pleasant kind which gentlemen show ladies.

Sensing her uneasiness, the captain casually brings up a chair that had been tossed onto the ground. “I didn’t think there would be any high born ladies on this ship.” Wearing tight trousers, she was able to cross her legs like a man confidently. Every so often she would look over her shoulder to see what her men were getting into before turning her attention back to Cersei. “You realize what has happened, yes?”

Grimacing, Cersei nods. “You’re a pirate. But there are hardly ever any pirates around this coast.”

The more she looked at her, the more Cersei realized how beautiful she was. Jealousy has always been a close friend of Cersei.

“Every once in a while we’ll stray to this side and see if there are any ships worth taking. So, who does this ship belong to?” She was completely unfazed by everything, from the sword slung on her hip to the blood stains that were on her blouse. There was no fear of repercussions present. “There’s no sigil on any of the flags or on the sails. But the ship itself is exquisitely built.”

“Funny, I was wondering the same thing of you. A female pirate, it’s quite rare. Who are you?” Cersei eyed the captain who chuckled and got up from her seat.

“Boy, I can tell you’re going to be fun.” She sings before standing right in front of Cersei. “But that’s not the game I play. You want to be difficult? How about I throw you to my men? They’re hungry for pleasures of the flesh. I’m sure you would make a perfect bed warmer for them.”

On cue, one of them pokes their head in. She looks over her shoulder with a grin. “I don’t like asking twice.”

This was no place to be haughty. Cersei had no choice but to reel herself in and think quickly on how she was going to survive. “Lannister. Cersei Lannister.”

Her gloved hand gently touches Cersei’s jaw. “A Lannister huh? Isn’t that the house of the man who is said to shit gold?”

“You know your house lords.” Cersei comments trying to prevent herself from recoiling from the woman’s touch. Something in her mind clicked in place. A plan. Something she had been desperately trying to conceive since she was taken from Casterly Rock. She had to choose her words carefully.

“Where is your gold then?”

Nodding her head in the direction of her dowry chest, the female pirate saunters over making sure to keep an eye on her captive. She opens it and is silent for a few moments. “Beautiful. The gamble certainly did pay off.”

“I can offer you a lot more than that.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“No, you don’t seem to understand.” Crossing her arms she points out the other pieces of luggage in her room to which the woman searches through to find more exquisite items like hand crafted gowns and more jewelry. “I can offer you something greater than anything here on this ship. I can offer you the vaults of Casterly Rock.”

That made her laugh. “Oh you must think I’m stupid.”

“I’m serious. That is if you can do a favor for me.”

She turns on Cersei, her eyes studying and calculating each move. “You’re in no position to be asking for favors little lady.”

“I can give you access to the vaults. Pillage, sack, do whatever you want to Casterly Rock. I care not of it’s fate.”

“It’s your home though.”

With such a calm, dead voice, Cersei replies “Not anymore. I would gladly watch it burn.”

Toying around with the idea, the woman fiddles with a long gold chain that had a lion pendant dangling from it. A gift from Joanna from so many years ago. Only now Cersei gazed at it with bitterness and resentment. “And what would be the favor you ask of?”

“All I ask is that you allow me service to your ship and crew. My sister is somewhere in Essos and I plan on finding her.”

“How sweet.”

“Not really. I want to kill her.”

That put a shine in her eyes. “Oh?”

“I will give you everything and anything in order to find and terminate her.”

Her smile returns. “I knew you would be fun.”

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#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fandom #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones reader insert #asoiaf reader insert #asoiaf fic #a song of ice and fire x you #a song of ice and fire

[alannybunnue]

Jaime tries his best not to cry when he founds out his Stark grand “niece” was named after his mama

AND WE ARE BACK AT ROBB X LANNISTER!READER

Of course he does

It's his mama's name on his Grand"niece", daughter of his favorite "Niece".

Why shouldn't he?

#ask #yandere concept #a song of ice and fire #yandere x reader #game of thrones #yandere imagine #house stark #robb stark #robb stark x reader #house lannister #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #lannister!reader

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Jaime II (Chapter 16)

The funeral procession departed King's Landing through the Gate of the Gods, wider and more splendid than the Lion Gate. The choice felt wrong to Jaime. His father had been a lion, that no one could deny, but even Lord Tywin never claimed to be a god.

How is Daenerys losing against Tywin? Tywin.

+.+.+

Ser Kevan snorted. "So do we all. How fares your king?" His tone made the question a reproach.

"Well enough," Jaime said defensively. "Balon Swann is with him during the mornings. A good and valiant knight."

"Once that went without saying when men spoke of those who wore the white cloak."

No man can choose his brothers, Jaime thought. Give me leave to pick my own men, and the Kingsguard will be great again. Put that baldly, though, it sounded feeble; an empty boast from a man the realm called Kingslayer. A man with shit for honor. Jaime let it go. He had not come to argue with his uncle. 

I'd love to see who he'd put on the Kingsguard. Guaranteed he'd remain as one of the seven.

Is it too much to ask for Jaime to move off of Aerys, and start reflecting on other things that make him a terrible person?

+.+.+

"Will you remain at Darry after the wedding?"

"For a while, mayhaps. Sandor Clegane is raiding along the Trident, it would seem. Your sister wants his head. It may be that he has joined Dondarrion."

Jaime had heard about Saltpans. By now half the realm had heard. The raid had been exceptionally savage. Women raped and mutilated, children butchered in their mothers' arms, half the town put to the torch. "Randyll Tarly is at Maidenpool. Let him deal with the outlaws. I would sooner have you go to Riverrun."

Notice how no one in the story is having a difficult time believing it's Sandor Clegane doing this?

Hell, I'd love to know how many readers never questioned it.

+.+.+

"Addam Marbrand could deal with these outlaws just as well as you. So could Brax, Banefort, Plumm, any of these others. But none would make a good King's Hand."

"Your sister knows my terms. They have not changed. Tell her that, the next time you are in her bedchamber."

+.+.+

He had hoped against hope that Cersei had somehow misunderstood, but plainly that was wrong. He knows about the two of us. About Tommen and Myrcella. And Cersei knows he knows. Ser Kevan was a Lannister of Casterly Rock. He could not believe that she would ever do him harm, but . . . I was wrong about Tyrion, why not about Cersei? When sons were killing fathers, what was there to stop a niece from ordering an uncle slain? An inconvenient uncle, who knows too much. 

Is Jaime going to think Cersei killed Kevan?

Is this about anyone else? I can think of plenty of uncles and aunts who would slay their nephews and/or nieces, but I'm drawing a blank going the other way.

+.+.+

"That's just the thing a bride wants on her wedding night," said Jaime. "A husband who knows how to do his duty."

A flush crept up Lancel's cheeks. "I pray for you, cousin. And for Her Grace the queen. May the Crone lead her to her wisdom and the Warrior defend her."

"Why would Cersei need the Warrior? She has me." Jaime turned his horse about, his white cloak snapping in the wind. 

Ohhh! We love to see it! Sister and brother as the Maiden and the Warrior!

I thought that I was the Warrior and Cersei was the Maid, but all the time she was the Stranger, hiding her true face from my gaze. - Jaime IV, AFFC

x

❤️ The Maiden lay athwart the Warrior, her arms widespread as if to embrace him. - Davos I, ACOK ❤️

+.+.+

The Imp was lying. Cersei would sooner have Robert's corpse between her legs than a pious fool like Lancel. Tyrion, you evil bastard, you should have lied about someone more likely.

Tee-hee.

+.+.+

Garlan the Gallant had taken half the Tyrell strength back to Highgarden, and his lady mother and grandmother had gone with him. The other half had marched south with Mace Tyrell and Mathis Rowan to invest Storm's End.

As for the Lannister host, two thousand seasoned veterans remained encamped outside the city walls, awaiting the arrival of Paxter Redwyne's fleet to carry them across Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone. 

Ignore me.

Half the Tyrell strength with Garlan at Highgarden.

Half the Tyrell strength with Mathis Rowan at Storm's End.

Two thousand Lannister men at Dragonstone with Paxter Redwyne.

Got it.

+.+.+

Then the Knight of Flowers mounted up and put the others all to shame.

Jousting was three-quarters horsemanship, Jaime had always believed. Ser Loras rode superbly, and handled a lance as if he'd been born holding one

I was trying to understand why I was reading about jousting for an entire page, until I came to this and remembered.

Knight of the Laughing Tree clues.

+.+.+

"Oh, look," purred Lady Merryweather, "your brave brother has returned, Your Grace."

"Most of him." 

lmfao. brutal.

+.+.+

The queen was in her cups, Jaime realized. Of late, Cersei always seemed to have a flagon of wine to hand, she who had once scorned Robert Baratheon for his drinking.

Perfect, a blasted Cersei talking with Lady Merryweather. That's exactly what we want.

+.+.+

Pycelle looked desperately uncomfortable. "There has been a bird," he said. "From Stokeworth. Lady Tanda sends word that her daughter Lollys has been delivered of a strong, healthy son."

"And you will never guess what they have named the little bastard, brother."

"They wanted to name him Tywin, I recall."

"Yes, but I forbade it. I told Falyse that I would not have our father's noble name bestowed upon the ill-gotten spawn of some pig boy and a feeble-witted sow."

"Lady Stokeworth insists the child's name was not her doing," Grand Maester Pycelle put in. Perspiration dotted his wrinkled forehead. "Lollys's husband made the choice, she writes. This man Bronn, he . . . it would seem that he . . ."

"Tyrion," ventured Jaime. "He named the child Tyrion."

If I wasn't aware of all the things Tyrion has said and thought about Lollys Stokeworth, I might be able to find this amusing.

By the way, Tommen is sitting right there and hearing all this feeble-witted sow talk.

+.+.+

Jaime knew the look in his sister's eyes. He had seen it before, most recently on the night of Tommen's wedding, when she burned the Tower of the Hand. The green light of the wildfire had bathed the face of the watchers, so they looked like nothing so much as rotting corpses, a pack of gleeful ghouls, but some of the corpses were prettier than others. Even in the baleful glow, Cersei had been beautiful to look upon. She'd stood with one hand on her breast, her lips parted, her green eyes shining. She is crying, Jaime had realized, but whether it was from grief or ecstasy he could not have said.

The sight had filled him with disquiet, reminding him of Aerys Targaryen and the way a burning would arouse him. 

I'm positive it's supposed to remind us of someone else.

But please, continue with these Cersei-Aerys parallels.

+.+.+

A king has no secrets from his Kingsguard. Relations between Aerys and his queen had been strained during the last years of his reign. They slept apart and did their best to avoid each other during the waking hours. But whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure. "You're hurting me," they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. "You're hurting me." In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted's screaming. "We are sworn to protect her as well," Jaime had finally been driven to say. "We are," Darry allowed, "but not from him."

Jaime had only seen Rhaella once after that, the morning of the day she left for Dragonstone. The queen had been cloaked and hooded as she climbed inside the royal wheelhouse that would take her down Aegon's High Hill to the waiting ship, but he heard her maids whispering after she was gone. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts. A crowned beast, Jaime knew.

I'M SO SLOW.

This is when Daenerys was conceived! I didn't know that!

It would be totally unfair and in poor taste to suggest any of this influenced her disposition, but I'm going to do it anyway.

BAD OMEN BABY.

+.+.+

By the end the Mad King had become so fearful that he would allow no blade in his presence, save for the swords his Kingsguard wore. 

Why, were Usurper's Knives chasing him?

+.+.+

His beard was matted and unwashed, his hair a silver-gold tangle that reached his waist, his fingernails cracked yellow claws nine inches long. Yet still the blades tormented him, the ones he could never escape, the blades of the Iron Throne. His arms and legs were always covered with scabs and half-healed cuts.

Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat, Jaime remembered, studying his sister's smile. Let him be the king of ashes. 

Tee-hee.

+.+.+

"I am growing very fond of Lady Taena. She amuses me."

"She is one of Margaery Tyrell's companions," Jaime reminded her. "She's informing on you to the little queen."

"Of course she is." Cersei went to the sideboard to fill her cup anew. "Margaery was thrilled when I asked her leave to take Taena on as my companion. You should have heard her. 'She will be a sister to you, as she's been to me. Of course you must have her! I have my cousins and my other ladies.' Our little queen does not want me to be lonely."

"If you know she is a spy, why take her on?"

"Margaery is not half so clever as she thinks. She has no notion what a sweet serpent she has in that Myrish slut. I use Taena to feed the little queen what I want her to know. Some of it is even true." Cersei's eyes were bright with mischief. "And Taena tells me everything Maid Margaery is doing."

At what point did Cersei forget all of this?

+.+.+

She knows I can do more for her than Margaery, so she makes herself useful to me. You would be surprised at all the interesting things she's told me."

"What sorts of things?"

Cersei sat beneath the window. "Did you know that the Queen of Thorns keeps a chest of coins in her wheelhouse? Old gold from before the Conquest. Should any tradesman be so unwise as to name a price in golden coins, she pays him with hands from Highgarden, each half the weight of one of our dragons. What merchant would dare complain of being cheated by Mace Tyrell's lady mother?"

That's the information she gave Cersei? Weird, that almost makes her seem like a Varys agent.

I know, I know, I'll save the tinfoil for Bran.

+.+.+

"Roose Bolton is our Warden of the North. He will deal with Stannis."

"Lord Bolton is trapped below the Neck, cut off from the north by the ironmen at Moat Cailin."

"Not for long. Bolton's bastard son will soon remove that little obstacle. Lord Bolton will have two thousand Freys to augment his own strength, under Lord Walder's sons Hosteen and Aenys. That should be more than enough to deal with Stannis and a few thousand broken men."

Ignore me.

Two thousand Frey men in the north.

A few thousand Stannis men in the north.

Got it.

+.+.+

"You still require a Hand, however. If not our uncle, who?"

His sister laughed. "Not you. Have no fear on that count. Perhaps Taena's husband. His grandfather was Hand under Aerys."

Lady Merryweather has already managed to secure one of the most powerful positions in all of Westeros for her husband. Who is playing who here?

+.+.+

"I govern the realm."

Seven save us all, you do. His sister liked to think of herself as Aegon Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. 

Tywin is ice, and Cersei is fire?

But. . . jonerys??

+.+.+

"A weak ruler needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Father. A strong ruler requires only a diligent servant to carry out his orders." She swirled her wine. "Lord Hallyne might suit. He would not be the first pyromancer to serve as the King's Hand."

Can everyone please go to the wiki, and look at the image used for Lord Hallyne? Thank you.

What's dumber, making a pyromancer your Hand or giving the job to Tyrion Lannister? Tough, right?

+.+.+

No. I killed the last one. "There is talk that you mean to make Aurane Waters the master of ships."

"Has someone been informing on me?" When he did not answer, Cersei tossed her hair back, and said, "Waters is well suited to the office. He has spent half his life on ships."

"Half his life? He cannot be more than twenty."

Sure, but consider this: he's hot.

+.+.+

"A weak ruler needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Father. A strong ruler requires only a diligent servant to carry out his orders." 

x

"Half his life? He cannot be more than twenty."

"Two-and-twenty, and what of it? Father was not even one-and-twenty when Aerys Targaryen named him Hand. 

I love when they put daddy on a pedestal.

+.+.+

"You are a child, Jaime. Redwyne is Tyrell's bannerman, and nephew to that hideous grandmother of his. I want none of Lord Tyrell's creatures on my council."

"Tommen's council, you mean."

"You know what I mean."

Too well. "I know that Aurane Waters is a bad idea, and Hallyne is a worse one. As for Qyburn . . . gods be good, Cersei, he rode with Vargo Hoat. The Citadel stripped him of his chain!"

"The grey sheep. Qyburn has made himself most useful to me. And he is loyal, which is more than I can say of mine own kin."

The crows will feast upon us all if you go on this way, sweet sister. "Cersei, listen to yourself. You are seeing dwarfs in every shadow and making foes of friends. Uncle Kevan is not your enemy. I am not your enemy."

I think it's a bit concerning Qyburn is being grouped with other bad decisions like Aurance Waters, and Hallyne.

+.+.+

"Get out, I said. I am sick of looking at that ugly stump of yours. Get out!" To speed him on his way, she heaved her wine cup at his head. She missed, but Jaime took the hint.

Evenfall found him sitting alone in the common room of White Sword Tower, with a cup of Dornish red and the White Book. 

Thrown out by Cersei, and straight to Evenfall. This is big foreshadowing in Braime Land.

Every single day I feel spoiled.

+.+.+

"I saw you in the yard today," said Jaime. "You rode well."

"Better than well, surely." Ser Loras poured himself a cup of wine, and took a seat across the half-moon table.

"A more modest man might have answered 'My lord is too kind,' or 'I had a good mount.'"

Both Cersei and Jaime having to deal with younger (less evil) versions of themselves is a riot.

+.+.+

"This one is for us. The history of every man who has ever worn a white cloak is written here."

"I have glanced at it. The shields are pretty. I prefer books with more illuminations. Lord Renly owned a few with drawings that would turn a septon blind."

PORN.

+.+.+

"Good enough. He died, but his king lived. A lot of brave men have worn the white cloak. Most have been forgotten."

"Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best."

"The best and the worst." So one of us is like to live in song. "And a few who were a bit of both. Like him."

A bit of both, eh? You're running out of time, and I see little opportunity left.

+.+.+

"The best and the worst." So one of us is like to live in song. "And a few who were a bit of both. Like him." He tapped the page he had been reading.

"Who?" Ser Loras craned his head around to see. "Ten black pellets on a scarlet field. I do not know those arms."

"They belonged to Criston Cole, who served the first Viserys and the second Aegon." Jaime closed the White Book. "They called him Kingmaker."

Does pushing a child out of a tower count as kingmaking? Heh, kingslaying and kingmaking, he did a bit of both!

Anyway, Criston Cole is the Kingsguard who was rumoured to be Rhaenyra Targaryen's lover. Let's ignore the rest of the history, and pretend it was unavailable at this point.

We first learn about Criston Cole in a chapter where Arianne Martell is being intimate with a member of the Kingsguards. Now he's being brought up again to close out a Jaime chapter, and the word 'CERSEI' follows in big, bold letters.

Based on that alone, it feels like this has less to do with kingmaking, and more to do with sexual relations between Kingsguard and would-be queens. But what the hell do I know?

Final thoughts:

The more we get into the history, the more I'm in serious trouble.

Only gifs from here on out.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #jaime ii

[fandom-puff]

Family, Duty, Honour

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Requested by: anon ‘Can you do Tyrion with his arranged marriage wife on their wedding night/first time?’

Notes: the reader in this fic is a Tully cousin. Let’s see if I can actually get to the smut without almost 1k words of worldbuilding this time! (The answer is no- do u see why it takes me so bloody long to write!)

(Part 2)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, loss of virginity, clearly not canon compliant lol

Gif creds to owner

Being summoned to Tywin Lannister’s office was never a pleasant experience. More often than not, it meant you were in serious trouble, and in Tyrion’s case, he was always in trouble; his father often referred to him as a drunken, lusty little fool. As Tyrion entered the office, he instantly did not like what he saw; his father was stood with his hands behind his back, rather than being sat behind his desk. He gestured for his son to sit, before he began speaking.

“As you know, your sister has been married to King Robert for some time, and is now pregnant with their second child. Their first, Joffrey, will be the next king of the seven kingdoms,” Tyrion nodded slowly as his father spoke at him, rather than to him. “In case that child is a girl, she must fall pregnant again to ensure there is an heir and a spare to fully consolidate the Baratheon dynasty. Your brother Jaime has sworn an oath that prohibits him from siring children,”

“Legitimate children,” Tyrion quipped, relishing in the way his father’s jaw tightened.

“Siring legitimate children. And I will not sit a bastard on Casterly Rock when I am gone. That leaves you,” Tyrion sat up a little straighter- was his father finally agreeing to acknowledge his claim now that Jaime couldn’t be lord of Casterly rock? “I have therefore arranged your marriage, and your son will inherit Casterly rock.”

Tyrion frowned. “My son? Surely it goes to me first,”

Tywin snorted. “Don’t remind me,”

Tyrion was quiet for a moment. “Who have you promised me to?”

“One of Hoster Tully’s nieces,” he said flatly. “What, disappointed? There aren’t many noble houses willing to marry off their daughters to a dwarf, even if he is a Lannister. You will marry YN Tully, splitting their ties with the North and the Vale with West. Your son will have Casterly Rock, and gods be willing, your spare will have Riverrun,”

“Hoster has other children, as well as his niece,”Tyrion reminded him.

“Yes. But Catelyn’s children will be shared about the North; Eddard Stark is unlikely to let them stray further south than the Neck. And Lysa has struggled to conceive, and her only child is sickly. If the it comes to it, one of the Stark heirs will take the Vale. Edmure Tully is a cocksure fool, and Brynden Tully has gone rogue. It’ll be easy to place your spare on that seat. But an heir for Casterly rock should be your priority,”

Tyrion sighed. “I don’t have a choice in this matter, do I?” When Tywin shook his head, he sighed. “Then I would like to meet this girl before we wed. To settle her nerves. Is she… of age?”

“She has flowered,” Tywin said sternly. “That should be enough for you,” with that he turned on his heel, leaving Tyrion to mull the concept of his wedding over. He sighed, returning to his chamber- he was in dire need of a drink.

**

As you walked up the steps to Casterly Rock your breath caught in your chest and you squeezed your uncle’s arm subconsciously as he escorted you.

As you entered the keep, Lord Tywin came around the corner, closely followed by his son. You gave a little curtsy to Tywin, before allowing Tyrion to kiss your knuckles. “My lady,” he said, his voice gentle. “I thought we might take a stroll through the garden. I’m afraid it’s not as impressive as the likes of the Reach, but it overlooks the sea,” your uncle gave a nod, allowing Tyrion to escort you on a tour of the gardens while he finalised the wedding plans with your soon to be father in law.

As you walked, Tyrion stole small glances sideways at you. It was undeniable that you were a Tully, possessive the sharp bone structure and deep red hair of your family. You knew your airs and graces, listening attentively as he told you about the history of Casterly rock. Sighing, he gestured for you to sit on an elaborately carved stone bench.

“My Lady… I know that this marriage is not… well it’s not anybody’s idea of perfection. I may be the ‘Imp’ but I promise to you I shall treat you well. I will protect you, honour you, treat you properly as my lady wife,”

You nibbled your lip nervously nodding slowly. “Thank you, Lord Tyrion,” you said softly, and he couldn’t help but stare longer than was decent into your piercing eyes.

“H-how old are you, Lady YN?” He asked gently, fearing the worst.

“My nineteenth name day will be in four moons,” you said. “Why?”

Tyrion shuffled slightly. “I only ask… these marriages usually do not take age into consideration. My father only told me you… were fertile. I feared that I would be wed to a child. And if that was the case, I would wait until you were older for the… I will still wait now, if that is your wish,” he promised, and you nodded, feeling much more at ease with the prospect of marrying the Imp.

***

The vows were said and you had been cloaked under the rich red and gold of house Lannister. Seated at the head table of the grand hall of Casterly Rock, you watched as the feast and the dancers went on. As Tyrion placed tidbits of the rich food on your plate, you were increasingly aware of the rising drunkenness in the room- over the hubbub of the feast, you could hear several bawdy jokes about the upcoming consummation of your marriage.

Tyrion noticed your growing anxiety, and placed his hand gently over yours. “Remember what I told you,” he said in a quiet voice, leaning close to your ear so that you could hear him. “If you want me to, I will wait,” you nodded at his reassurance, your shoulders relaxing slightly in your wedding gown, and you slipped your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze in thanks.

After the final course was served- small cakes decorated with and intricate motif of a lion frolicking in a river full of splashing trout in honour of the new alliance forged between the west and the riverlands- Lord Tywin and Lord Hoster rose from their table and made their way to the head table. Tywin gestured Tyrion away until you could no longer hear, though you were sure your father in law was lecturing him on his expectations for a son. Your uncle took a seat beside you, pouring you a half cup of wine.

“When your mother died,” he began. “I swore to the old gods and the new to protect you. The Lannisters are proud, and dangerous no doubt, but you are one of them now, my girl, and I’d rather you be married to the Lannisters with their power and wealth than to be treated like a whore by the Dornish or even the Baratheon… the Lannisters aren’t likely to let harm come to you, but I swear, if the imp ever hurts you, I will raise the men of the Riverlands, and I will get the Vale and the North on board as well. Even in Casterly Rock, you will be protected,”

You smiled. “Thank you, Uncle. But Lord Tyrion is a good man, kind and gentle. And even though I am a woman grown, he swore to me he would not force himself on me, nor would he betray my honour,” your uncle gave a tight smile, kissing the top of your head.

“Honour,” he said stiffly, stiffly, seeing Tywin and Tyrion returning to you. “Remember our words, My girl. Family, Duty, Honour,”

You nodded, squeezing his hand, before it was announced that it was time for the bedding. But instead of a boisterous display involving stripping both you and Tyrion out of your clothes on your way to your marriage chamber, Tyrion took your hand and led you out of the great hall alone, walking you to your new bedroom in relative silence.

As you shut the door, he looked at you, sighing quietly. “Shall we have some wine?” He said gently, gesturing to the table set out with wine and bread and fruit, in case the happy couple needed sustenance throughout the night. You gave him a small smile and nodded, letting him pull a chair out for you as you sipped on wine and nibbled on bread.

“I… expected a bedding ceremony, my Lord,” you said quietly, before quickly adding “I’m glad the traditional one didn’t happen though! My cousin, Catelyn didn’t have one, because her husband didn’t want to dishonour her,”

“Eddard Stark and I have that in common,” Tyrion said lightly. “And I told my father that I would not have his bannermen manhandle my wife to her room,”

You smiled gratefully, setting your cup down. Tyrion held up the jug, but you shook your head, not wanted to get too inebriated. You sighed softly, your fingers tracing over the embroidery on your wedding gown, and Tyrion watched as you worked over the stitched trouts- although Casterly rock glittered with jewels and gold, he had to admit that the embroidery of the riverlands and the north was superior to the rest of Westeros. “Are you nervous, My Lady?” He said gently, asking the obvious, before reminding you again of his promise.

“I am, a little,” you murmured. “But… I must do my duty and give you a son,” you looked away, taking a deep breath. “I am nervous because I’m a maid, and I am scared it will hurt, or I will not please you, or fulfil my duties to my family. But I… I trust, my Lord. I think I’ve trusted from the moment you invited me to Casterly Rock ahead of the wedding, despite that being only two weeks ago…”

Tyrion smiled gently as you rambled, taking both of your hands in his and leaning down to kiss both sets of knuckles. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll be gentle with you,” he promised. “I must ask one thing of you, YN… just call me Tyrion,”

You smiled gently, leaning down and pressing your lips gently to his. It was your first proper kiss, aside from the one under the eyes of the gods, and you were initiating it. Tyrion couldn’t help but smile against the cushion of your lips, finding your tentative gentleness endearing. He reached one hand up to curl around the back of your neck and was relieved to feel you relax as he stroked your deep red hair. He grazed his teeth against your bottom lip, before pressing them down gently, you let out a shudder and-gods- a moan.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmured.

“Please don’t,” you replied, voice breathy as you felt unfamiliar heat and… longing stirring within you. With your gentle plea replaying in his head, he slipped his hand into yours, pulling you gently towards the canopied bed.

Slowly, you undressed one another down to your smallclothes. Tyrion gulped as he looked over you, the peaks of your breasts pushing against your chemise. “Magnificent,” he murmured, and you smiled, ducking your head down to hide your bashful expression.

“What do I… what do I do?” You whispered, sitting on the bed. Tyrion smiled gently.

“We must prepare you,” he said gently. At your frown, he carried on. “If we are to continue with comfort in mind, we must ensure your body is ready to… accommodate me. This will relax you… make you… slick,” he explained and you nodded slowly, shuffling back so you could lay on the pillows. As Tyrion made to climb up onto the bed, you took a deep breath, lifting your chemise up and over your head to bear your chest and cunt to him. Tyrion suppressed a groan at the sight, urging himself to go slow. You were his lady wife, not some whore. He approached you slowly, coming up to your side and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, before trailing his lips down. You gasped as you felt his teeth scrape against your skin, before you let out a low moan as his lips wrapped around your nipple, suckling gently. He waited until your breath came in little desperate pants, your body twisting and pushing up to him before he trailed his hand down to the thatch of curls between your thighs. You gasped and tensed up, but as he began rubbing your thigh gently and you soon relaxed, allowing him to push your thighs apart.

“T-Tyrion,” you whimpered, feeling the palm of his hand cup your pussy. He was about to ask if you were okay, but your next words put his mind at ease. “Please… more…”

He gave a light chuckle. “As my lady wife commands,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lip as his finger dragged between your folds, swirling around your clit on every other stroke, until you were dripping and squirming with anticipation, grasping onto his arm, little moans tumbling from your lips. Tyrion smiled slightly, sucking his finger clean and groaning at the taste. “Are you ready for my cock, YN?” He asked, and you bit your lip.

“I-I think so?” You murmured, watching with wide eyes as he undid his underwear and shoved it down his thighs, his straining cock springing free. You bit your lip hard, and Tyrion smiled softly.

“I will be gentle with you, YN, I promise,” you gulped and nodded, reaching for him.

“Please…” you murmured. “I-I’m ready,” Tyrion gave a slight smile as he moved to line up with your entrance, slowly pushing his cock into you. You whimpered, back arching, and when he hit the barrier of your maidenhead, you hissed.

Tyrion petted your thigh gently, shushing you. “This will hurt for just a moment, I promise,” he told you, and you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as he breached your maidenhead. What was an uncomfortable stinging sensation soon dissolved into a feeling of fullness, of being stretched. It felt… good.

“M-move,” you begged, bucking your hips up despite yourself, and to your delight, Tyrion complied, groaning as he grasped your hips, his hips beginning to roll against yours, his girth caressing all of your most intimate pleasure points, watching the way your eyebrows tugged together and your mouth went slack as you let out needy gasps and moans, increasing in pitch and volume as he dragged you closer to the edge. He was close himself, his movements becoming more sloppy, his head tipping back as he groaned and grunted. “Tyrion,” you cried, back arching, and his mouth practically watered at the sign of your bouncing tits. “Tyrion I’m- I feel-”

“Let it happen,” he groaned, and when he felt your channel spasm around his length he grunted, spurting his seed into you with a shout of your name, spurred on by your cries of ecstasy.

Shaking, gasping, you whimpered as Tyrion pulled out of you, and smiled gently as you watched him pour you some wine and get you some fruit. You curled into his side, now under the covers as you sipped the more watered down wine, humming softly as Tyrion fed you plump, sweet berries. Sleepy, you settled down under the covers, resting your head on his bare chest, and as you nodded off to sleep, Tyrion swore to himself that he would put his young wife and any children you had before all else in his life.

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi

#tyrion lannister x you #tyrion x you #tyrion lannister x reader smut #tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion Lannister imagine #request #2021 #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader

[iwritetopassthetime]

of vipers and doves II (5/11)

Oberyn Martell x fem!reader 

CHAPTER FOUR: The Viperess and the Lion Cub // Previous chapter // Masterlist // Next chapter

Wordcount: 6.7K

warnings: abduction; mention of throwing up/seasickness; plenty of angst in this chapter; MAD QUEEN CERSEI is coming to town

‘Aunt! Aunt, please wake up!’ Myrcella sobbed as she held Y/N’s head in her lap, stroking her hair back with trembling hands. She was cold and the dampness inside the leaky cabin of the cutter made the temperature feel even more severe. Her uncle Jaime had given her a cloak to put around her shoulders, but she instead placed it over Y/N’s body to keep her warm.

Myrcella was afraid. Not only of the dire situation she found herself in, she was afraid for her aunt’s wellbeing. After that brute hit her, she just slumped like a sack of flour. Who knew how seriously that man injured her! And now that her head was in Myrcella’s lap, the young princess could feel the swelling bruise that had formed where the pommel of the sword came down. 

Myrcella cried harder, knowing this whole ordeal was most likely her fault. Uncle Jaime had said they snuck into Dorne to get her, but nothing was mentioned about Y/N’s abduction. So the only reason she was now unconscious, in a dingy, old royal cutter was her being in close proximity to Myrcella.

‘H-hey…’ Y/N sighed, finally coming to and having the first sound reach her ears be her dear friend and niece crying like a babe. Y/N’s eyelids were heavy so she reached out to find Myrcella’s face which made the young princess gasp and clutch at her fingers.

‘I-I’m s-so sorry! I’m so sorry!’ She yelped. Y/N could feel the dampness of her cheeks as her palm cradled the young girl’s face. She finally opened her eyes, slowly and with immense effort. ‘This is a-all my fault. They w-wouldn’t have taken you if I h-hadn’t been wi-with you!’

‘Hey now.’ Y/N pulled herself up, her head pounding. She was terribly dizzy and the rocking ground she laid on did not help her condition. ‘Come here, sweet girl.’

She sluggishly wrapped her arms around the girl’s frame, bringing her close and rubbing her back soothingly. She propped her chin on Myrcella’s head, willing the room to stop spinning so she wouldn’t feel like emptying her stomach on the wet wooden floor.

‘This is not… your fault, Myrcella.’ Y/N whispered, placing a tender peck on the crown of the young girl’s head. ‘I wouldn’t wish for you to be in this situation alone… despite me being knocked unconscious in the process.’ She pulled back, touching the side of her head where the goose egg had formed. It fucking hurt, but Y/N couldn’t show that and upset her niece even more than she already was. ‘That brute… Did he hurt you?’

‘No, uncle Jaime just kept a hand over my face to stop me from yelling for help.’

Y/N finally managed to put the room in focus. She remembered Oberyn explaining something similar during their second impromptu training session days ago: when trapped, take note of your location and of possible ways to escape. Seven hells, she didn’t have her dagger! But then again she didn’t know that Jaime Lannister and his lapdog would abduct her in the middle of the night. 

They were in a cabin. It was very small so it definitely wasn’t a large ship, either a cutter or a cog. And judging by the damp and cold, it was an old vessel that was not very well maintained. It was probably why they chose it: old boats tend to be ignored by coastal guards since they usually belong to small-town fishermen and merchants. If Y/N wasn’t in her current predicament, she might even congratulate her captors on their ingenuity. 

The waves rocked the vessel and it made Y/N’s sickness worse. Her head rocked in tandem with the boat and bile rose in her throat. She had to stay calm, for Myrcella’s sake.

‘My sweet, do we have a chamber pot or a bucket here?’

Myrcella immediately shot up, a little wobbly since she was unused to being on a ship. She looked through the cabin, finding a bucket in one of the corners. She inspected it briefly: there weren’t any holes and it didn’t smell of mould like half the scant furniture in their temporary captivity. ‘Do you need to relieve yourself? There you go.’

But once Y/N had the bucket in her grasp she heaved over it, emptying the contents of her stomach. Her throat burned with the acidity and tears welled up in her eyes. Myrcella reached out and held back her hair whilst soothing a hand down her back.

‘I apologise,’ Y/N rasped and spat into the bucket after she was all done. Her entire body felt like lead, heavy and unmoving. ‘I did not wish to alarm you, my sweet.’

‘You could never alarm me, aunt.’ Myrcella sniffled and eased Y/N’s head onto her lap once more. She made sure to push the bucket away, but still within arms reach should her aunt need it again.

‘I’ve never gotten seasick before.’ Y/N coughed, the vile taste still in her mouth, choking her. ‘It must be the strike to the head that has me so muddled.’

Myrcella scrunched up her face in anger. ‘I shall give that scoundrel a piece of my mind.’

‘Don’t do anything rash, my sweet. I need to keep you safe.’

‘You already are,’ Myrcella said, her bottom lip trembling. She burst out in tears again, hiding her face behind her palms.

Y/N lifted herself and enveloped her niece in another warm hug. They needed to stay together and help one another in this terrible moment. Who knew if their family knew where they were or if they had noticed they were gone! The sunlight that streamed through the tiny gaps in the ship’s hull suggested it was daybreak so Oberyn and Trystane should’ve noticed the two of them missing. 

Oh, Oberyn… Y/N’s heart constricted painfully in her chest at the thought of his alarm. How upset he would be and how angry he would get once he found out she was in the hands of a Lannister, most likely on her way to King’s Landing. If Dorne’s involvement was reluctant before, now they would adamantly join. Y/N knew how passionate the Dornish were and how fiercely they loved and fought for the one’s they loved. With two Martell princesses in Lannister custody there was no way they would stand by and let another tragedy like Elia’s to occur.

The mere image of what occurred to the sister-in-law she never knew made Y/N shiver. She prayed no harm befell her or most importantly, Myrcella. That girl was a gentle, sweet soul and deserved none of the cruelty of their world. But somehow the fact that she was part Lannister would mean that Cersei would never let a single hair fall out of her daughter’s head. Which left Y/N as the only one who stood in danger’s path. Oh, seven hells!

The sunlight was getting higher, probably nearing midday, when the door to the small cabin opened and Jaime Lannister walked through with his man, Bronn. Y/N glared at the second one, wishing she could just punch him, but diplomacy was needed in situations such as this.

‘Myrcella,’ Jaime smiled at his niece. He looked about ready to rush forward and embrace her.

‘Uncle,’ Myrcella replied through tight lips. She, however, did not share his sentiment.

‘Is something the matter? This is not how you would usually greet me, my dear.’ Jaime said, his voice full of concern. 

‘You abducted me!’ Myrcella cried in anger. ‘You took me against my will, away from the love of my life! And not to mention taking my aunt and having your man injure her!’

‘Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, love!’ Bronn spoke nonchalantly, thumbs tucked in his belt. ‘But she was a feisty, that one. Wouldn’t mind getting a turn if she’s bored of fucking whichever Dornish bastard she belongs to.’

Y/N’s laughter at his statement was raspy and forced. ‘You must not remember me then, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.’ She glared at him with all her might, which was significantly diminished due to hunger and dehydration and the venom in her words was losing its potency. 

‘Fuck me! You’re the Red Viper’s little wife.’ Bronn slapped his thigh as if the revelation was the funniest coincidence in the world. ‘I did not recognise you at first. You sound like a native.’

Jaime remained stoic at the exchange; he was not well acquainted with the Martell princess since the last time their paths came close to crossing was during Joffrey’s wedding and he had much bigger worries at that time to be mingling with the Dornish party. Now, watching her breathe heavily through an angry frown, he began to realise just what of a calamity her presence on that boat was. Cersei would know best what to do with her, he supposed in the end.

‘Princess, I apologise for my man’s… roughness. We had no intention of taking you, only the Princess Myrcella.’ Jaime tried to reason.

‘You man is an idiot and you’re an even bigger one, Jaime Lannister.’ Y/N snapped at him. ‘I demand that you turn this boat around and return me and my niece back to Dorne.’

Bronn huffed, ‘Since when is she your niece?’

‘Since I married Trystane,’ Myrcella bit back, angrily. ‘Princess Y/N is my aunt by marriage.’

Jaime blanched. There were a few tense seconds of dead silence with the sound of the waves crashing against the cutter’s hull as background noise. 

‘When did this happen?’

‘Weeks ago,’ Myrcella told her uncle. ‘I did not wish for anyone on that side of the family to know. Apart from Tommen, he approves.’

Y/N’s breath hitched at the mention of Tommen. She remembered the conversation from last night. Lord Varys had said that King Tommen had committed suicide after Cersei had allegedly blown up the Sept of Baelor, with Margery and countless others inside its walls. Myrcella did not know her brother was dead. How would Y/N even begin to tell her? How would the young girl take the information?

‘Tommen will be happy to see you return to your home… and to your real family.’ Jaime reasoned. ‘As for Her Highness…’ he looked at Y/N in deliberation. ‘I will let Cersei decide what to do with you.’

Y/N scoffed in annoyance. As if that would make her feel any easier. Cersei was a villainous woman, and that was from Y/N met her last. Who knew what kind of a monster was awaken in her after so much strife and the loss of two of her children. 

‘Now, Myrcella let’s move you and your… friend, to a better cabin. I’m sure you will want to rest somewhere nicer than a wet floor. Bronn—’ Jaime ordered his right-hand man to pull the women up and guide them out of the cabin, down a narrow corridor to a different door.

Jaime opened it before guiding his niece inside with a gentle hand on her shoulder which she shrugged off. She continued watching him with tearful, angry eyes. A man who had held her as a babe and was so gentle to her throughout her early years, was now like a stranger to her. A stranger who had taken her from the boy she loved.

Before Bronn could push Y/N into the room after Myrcella, she planted her heels into the ground and pulled back slightly. ‘Ser Jaime, might I take a walk with you on deck. I’ve been feeling sick since I woke up and wish to take a breath of fresh air.’

Jaime seemed reluctant, but agreed after Myrcella confirmed it. And as the custodian of a royal hostage, he was required by his honour to allow her some comfort even if her venomous tongue was as threatening as her husband’s spear. Perhaps, that’s what made their marriage work.

Bronn was excused to return to his own cabin which he gladly accepted since he did not care much about “taking no leisurely stroll like a fat little lord”. Jaime tried not to make his eye-roll to obvious at his friend’s antics. 

Once on top deck, Y/N could finally take a deep breath and feel the salt of the air as the crossed the Sea of Dorne, heading North. The squawk of seagulls was long gone so they must be pretty far along on their journey, too far from the mainland. And going even further from her beloved Dorne. Y/N walked to one side of the ship, looking far into the distance where the shores of her home would’ve been hours ago. Tears threatened to reveal just how distraught she was but she refused to show weakness in front of the older man.

She glanced up to allow the wind to dry her eyes from any wetness and caught the sight of a red cloth attached to the top of the mast. 

‘It is very foolish to be travelling under a Lannister flag in these waters,’ she commented.

Jaime looked at it, ‘We did not think of pulling it down, I suppose.’

‘You’re bad at abduction then.’

‘I truly apologise for the way you were taken.’ Jaime responded. ‘It is not in my honour to harm defenceless women. But I assure you that you will not be in danger with me, or with my sister in King’s Landing.’

Y/N sighed, ‘I wish I could believe that, Ser Jaime. But your sister has proven that she is a monstrous woman.’

‘She can be vicious, but she will do everything to protect her children.’

‘Evidently,’ Y/N sneered. ‘Tell me, were you there when she blew up the Sept or did she wait until your faithful eyes were away so she could commit such atrocity?’

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion which gave Y/N her answer. 

‘Ah… you do not know then.’

‘What do you mean “blew up the Sept”?’ He inquired hurriedly. 

‘Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor,’ Y/N began. ‘Killing Queen Margaery, her brother, father, and many others. The King committed suicide as a result.’

Jaime shook his head. ‘You’re lying.’

‘Your son is dead.’ Y/N’s voice shook as she spoke. She did not even wish to imagine what losing a child would be like, but had a pretty good understanding of being separated from them. Gods only knew how desperate she was to have Salvador and Ellarion cuddled against her bosom at this very moment. ‘Cersei’s villainy killed him. It killed my friend.’

‘It’s… It can’t be true,’ the knight shook his head violently in disbelief. ‘You cannot know. How would you know?’

‘Lord Varys.’

Jaime huffed. ‘The Spider is in Dorne, is he?’

‘Along with Daenerys Stormborn and your brother, Tyrion.’

‘Tyrion is alive?!’

‘And well. Last I saw him, he was looking forward to this morning. He wished to see Myrcella.’ Y/N looked back towards her home. ‘I am sorry that his wish would not be realised.’

With trembling hands, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. She clutched at the soft fabric covering them, the intricate embroidery sliding beneath her fingers. Oberyn’s jacket was infused with his captivating scent. It was strong and warm, and if Y/N closed her eyes she could almost imagine his own arms enveloping her, pulling her towards his solid chest. 

‘You took me away from my children, from my husband. My youngest is barely four months o-old,’ Y/N whimpered, hiding her face from the older man. ‘You’re not an honourable man, Ser Jaime. You’re cruel. Just like your sister.’

Jaime said nothing, but felt his chest ache for the young woman’s sorrow. Even though she could cut him down to size with her tongue, her words held nothing but despair now. He knew he could not offer her any comfort, she was a mother missing her children. The only real comfort for her would be to be back at their side. Jaime understood as much.

‘Let me walk you back to your cabin,’ he spoke solemnly. ‘I will get you and Myrcella some fresh water and food. But then you must rest, we have at least a week until we reach King’s Landing. 

‘Papa?’ 

Oberyn was shaken from his turbulent thoughts by Salvador’s small voice. The two were sat on the ground, on top the many pillows that made up the boys’ pen. Salvador, who had comfortably planted himself on his father’s lap, was holding the storybook that Oberyn had stopped reading from at some point due to the confusion and anxiety that plagued his mind.

Nobody would blame him, of course. He had woken up with his wife missing. Then he learnt that his niece-in-law was gone as well, making that two women of their family that had vanished into thin air in the same night. The situation wasn’t just strange, it was suspicious. And even though they had no leads, or any clues as to what had or could’ve happened to the two princesses, the word that kept circling around the Water Gardens was abduction. 

Wether it was pirates, sellswords, or someone more nefarious, they couldn’t know. It was shocking that two senior members of House Martell would be taken without alerting any of the guards that patrolled the Gardens. And not to mention the group of Unsullied that joined on these patrols to ensure their Queen’s safety. It was simply astounding. 

‘I apologise, little one.’ Oberyn rubbed a hand over his face. ‘What is it?’

‘Where is Mama?’ The little boy asked. 

Oberyn sighed. Could he lie to his son? Is a lie better than the hard truth that he simply did not know where his mother was? He couldn’t be sure when Y/N would be returned to them so to tell his son that she was coming back soon would pose more problems in the long run. 

‘She, uh… She is away for a little while,’ Oberyn matriculated slowly as if he was trying to convince himself as well. ‘But she will be back to us. I promise you.’

Salvador snuggled into his father’s chest, his small fists clutching at his jacket. Oberyn wrapped his arms around his son, keeping him as close as humanly possible.

‘Is this— Is this why another lady feeds ‘Rio? Because Mama can’t feed him?’

‘Yes, my snakelet.’ Oberyn used the monicker that Y/N had come up for their children, after all they were “a little viper family” as she joked numerous times. Oberyn’s daughters were the Sand snakes, Salvador and Ellarion were the little snakes. Snakelets. ‘Ellarion needs to drink milk so he can grow like you. But because Mama is not here, we had to ask this nice lady to come and help us,’ he explained. ‘We must accept aid when we most need it. Understand?’

‘Yeah,’ Salvador sniffed, burying his face in his father’s chest as tears welled up in his dark little eyes. ‘I miss Mama.’

‘I know, Salva. I miss her too.’

Oberyn did his best to comfort his son, lulling him from side to side until the boy’s breath’s evened out and his body slumped. Father and son remained unmoving as the nursery was filled with Salvador’s light snores. When he was sure that the boy was deep enough in sleep, Oberyn carefully lifted him up and placed him down on the pillows, close to his already sleeping baby brother. He then grabbed the edge of their blanket and tucked them in, ensuring that they wouldn’t be cold through the night. 

The sun was starting to drop bellow the horizon and the sky was painted in all shades of red and yellow. The gardens outside the bedroom windows were quiet, apart from the occasional chirp of a bird that flew near the balcony. 

Oberyn silently made his way out of the room, but chanced a look at his sleeping boys before extinguishing the candle by the door and exiting the nursery. The muted thud of the door behind him echoed in the empty hallway. Oberyn sighed deeply, his head resuming its echo of a thousand bustling thoughts and giving him no quarter.

He only wished he knew where Y/N had gone to. If he had that knowledge then he could focus his mind on a single goal: getting her back. Home. To him and their children. But the lack of any clues left him powerless to act which in turn made him furious. Gods help whatever idiot had dared take away his love from him, because they would pay dearly for it. 

‘Prince Oberyn!’ Jenne rushed from one end of the corridor to meet him.

‘Jenne, what is it?’

‘Your brother requests your presence in his study,’ she panted. ‘He has news.’

Jenne didn’t need to specify, because Oberyn was picking up his step in the direction where she came from. ‘Jenne, stay with the boys. I will call for two guards to stay outside the room at all times.’

‘Yes, my prince.’

Doran was standing by the balcony window, holding himself up with a crutch. His eyes were trained to the horizon, as if trying to find through an eagle’s gaze what he was looking for. He only turned his head when Areo announced his brother’s arrival. 

‘What’s happened? Have they found her?’ Oberyn’s litany of questions was halted by Doran raising his arm. ‘Doran, I don’t have the patience, tell me what you know!’

‘Help me into my chair first,’ Doran asked him, his voice dull. Oberyn grabbed his arm and slowly walked him over to the wheelchair. The older brother eased himself onto the cushioned seat with a sigh, prompting Oberyn to take a sea in front of him on a short stool. 

‘A fisherman arrived a few minutes ago, escorted by the guardsmen we sent to the nearby fishing villages.’ Doran’s face was stoic, brows knitted together which accentuated the deep crease between them. ‘Him and his men had to change fishing locations because of Daenerys’s dragon so they moved to another bay. Two days ago a cutter was spotted leaving a fishing dock a mile away from here, in the early hours of the morning. They assumed nothing of it since it appeared like a trading ship… But were concerned when they heard about... the disappearance.’ Doran paused. ‘It sailed under a red flag.’

Oberyn sat back, his breath freezing in his chest. He went to speak, but Doran interrupted him.

‘That’s not all… two of our soldiers were discovered on the dunes. One had died of his wounds, but the other survived. He said… they were attacked by two foreigners.’ He looked at his brother. ‘One of whom was Jaime Lannister.’

The air went stale as if the wind itself was shocked at the revelation. Oberyn’s breathing went erratic as several emotions shot through his mind. Relief came first at knowing where Y/N and Myrcella were. His thoughts were finally focused. Confusion as to what would prompt Jaime fucking Lannister to abduct his wife. And then intense, hot-red, seething fury. Whatever the cause, the Lannisters had taken two members of his family, they had openly attacked his House. They were going to pay.

‘I cannot forgive myself for my words to Y/N the other night,’ Doran muttered, a shadow coming over his face at the sorrow he felt. ‘They were untrue, but spoken in anger... Brother, I know you blame me for Elia. For what… that family did to her and for me not doing anything to prevent it. I should’ve— I could’ve done more for her and her children.’ Doran’s eyes returned to the skyline outside his window. ‘But I will not allow another member of our family to suffer like she did.’

Oberyn stared at his older brother in disbelief at his confession. He had never seen him so honest and open, so ready to admit his fault. Doran had always been stoic and secretive, that’s why him and Elia did not have that strong of a bond with him. But tonight, in that very moment, Oberyn felt closer to his brother’s world than he ever had been before.

‘I have already spoken with Daenerys Targaryen and her advisors. They will send word to their allies on Dragonstone, asking them to join us in Sunspear.’ Doran nodded his head slowly, the acceptance in his eyes a sobering sight. ‘House Martell will join them in this fight.’

It was early morning on the tenth day since they were taken from Dorne. Nine nights that Y/N spent barely sleeping, her heart aching for home, for Oberyn and her children. The intense stress caused the milk in her breasts to dry-out which was met with bittersweet relief since she couldn’t suckle Ellarion because he was miles away from her and heartbreak at the realisation that she was separated from her child. They would have to get a wetnurse which Y/N detested; another woman would experience the serenity at holding her son to her breast. But the alternative was to let Ellarion starve the mere image of which had the mother in her recoil in horror.

The mornings of her voyage would be spent hunched over, emptying the little contents of her stomach into a bucket. Ser Jaime had not considered an extra passenger and the food meant for Myrcella had to be divided in two. Y/N’s nurturing nature would not allow the younger girl to go wanting so she strategically split their meals uneven so Myrcella would get the larger portion. Gods bless her, she assumed that whenever Y/N was hacking up practically nothing was because the food was subpar, or because of seasickness.

Y/N knew it wasn’t that; she had sailed plenty of times and had never gotten that violently sick on a ship. She pegged it to the stress of the situation and being separated from her infant. And missing Oberyn, her beloved Oberyn. What must be going through his head? He wouldn’t know where she was or that she was even abducted! Y/N prayed to the Gods her husband would be alright, she prayed the kept him safe because once he found out exactly who had her, there would be no stopping him. 

The idea itself scared her; not because she was scared of Oberyn’s anger, she was scared that despite Daenerys’s assurance that she would keep him away from direct fighting, Oberyn would fight tooth and nail to get his wife back. And the Lannister that she was being shipped off to was an unpredictable, diabolical woman who was an even scarier adversary… 

Gods help them all!

As the cutter neared the city, it was very obvious that there was something missing in the King’s Landing skyline. The building that would match the grandeur of the notorious Red Keep was the Sept of Baelor. Y/N recalled the sheer magnitude and roughness of its appearance; it was made to strike fear of the gods into the hearts of high-borns and peasants alike. But looking at the place it used to be, she saw nothing. A big emptiness that left the castle as the only giant in the city. 

Jaime stared at the same thing, in disbelief. His eyes searched for the Sept, but ended up with nothing. He hoped Lady Martell’s words would be a lie, a fabricated story by a rattled woman in a moment of weakness. But she was saying the truth. The Sept of Baelor was gone.

‘Do you still think she is a good person?’ Y/N asked weakly. She glanced at Jaime, waiting for anything from him. A defence of Cersei perhaps? She knew the rumours, she knew he’d defend his lover, no matter how depraved she believed it to be.

Jaime Lannister finally dared to tear his eyes away from the shocking sight and give the younger woman a hard look. ‘Listen to me. I say this with the best intentions possible: watch you mouth around Cersei,’ he warned, his voice dark and foreboding. ‘You cannot act the viperess in front of her.’

‘I will not allow her to use me as she does with people,’ Y/N bit back. ‘As she’s done with you, Ser.’

‘Gods!’ Jaime groaned in exasperation. ‘If you know what’s good for you, if you want to ever see your children again, you will do as I say.’ Y/N wanted to smack him for his comment. ‘Don’t make stupid mistakes. Play the game to her rules and stay alive.’

‘Why? So she can have another plaything as she did with poor Sansa?’

‘No, I simply do not wish to be at the receiving end of your husband’s spear if you end up dead.’

Y/N felt a smirk pull at one corner of her mouth. She shouldn’t have let the image of that satisfy her so much, but she was angry and exhausted. She had every right to picture Oberyn, her Red Viper skewering Jaime Lannister on his spear as if he was a bit of pork.

The Red Keep was much as Y/N remembered it, but somehow darker. Many unhappy days had befell the sordid city of King’s Landing, but it showed best in its biggest landmark. One could hear a pin drop in the silence that seemed to permanently exist in every crevice of the ancient castle. The few servants that they encountered on their way to the throne room kept their heads down and walked briskly from one end to the other. It didn’t take much deliberation to discover that they were absolutely terrified. Y/N guessed that many had lost their families in the explosion. 

King’s Landing had become a graveyard with Cersei at its helm as the digger.

They stopped before the doors to the throne room and Jaime walked in front of the two women, sighing audibly when Myrcella refused to meet his eye. Ever since Y/N told her of what she’d learnt — Tommen’s death — she was angry at her uncle, and even angrier at her mother for allowing such thing to happen. For being the sole reason for it.

Jaime gave Y/N one final look that seemed to suggest she keep her words to herself and reminded her what dangers her tongue might get her into. He turned his back to them and had the guards, stationed at the two sides, open the door for them.

The walk across the stone floor was slow and suggesting an impending doom. Y/N imagined that was what it felt to walk towards the gallows for one’s execution. She lifted her eyes and watched the slender figure of Cersei Lannister, perched at the top of the ceremonial podium, on the Iron Throne. Her hair was cut short like a man’s and her armoured dress was black. She looked the part of an executioner. One that had just committed slaughter.

A short, spindly man in dark maester’s robes stood at her side. He leaned in and shushed something in Cersei’s ear, but her eyes were fixed on her daughter. A tense smile pulled at her thin, pale lips and she got up, walking the rest of the distance to meet the arrivals. 

She wrapped her arms around Myrcella’s body, but the girl did not reciprocate. Instead her limbs turned stiff and her face was pulled in a grimace. 

Cersei pulled back, ‘Myrcella, my darling, are you not happy to see your mother? Why won’t you embrace me?’

‘You killed Tommen,’ Myrcella whimpered, blue eyes turning bloodshot as they filled with sorrowful tears.

‘Tommen’s death was his own doing,’ Cersei bit harshly, but remembered who she was talking to and immediately softened her features to force a lying smile. ‘It’s alright, you’re safe here.’

‘Are we?’ Y/N spoke up, drawing Cersei’s attention to herself.

The dark Queen aimed her cold gaze at the younger woman, gaze fleeting between her and Jaime. ‘I don’t remember instructing you on picking up anybody else,’ she hissed. 

‘I was abducted along with your daughter, Your Grace.’ Y/N replied calmly, but her heart hammered in her chest. 

‘Do I know you?’

‘You are addressing Princess Y/N Martell of Dorne,’ Myrcella bravely spoke.

Cersei stared at Y/N for a long time before bursting in a menacing laugh, ‘My, I did not recognise you. Well, last time you looked more like a wine barrel. You’ve gone quite native, haven’t you? You even sound like those savages.’

Y/N glared back, biting her tongue and holding herself back. She regretted not having the dagger Oberyn gifted her at hand, she could stab the horrid woman for her comments about her countrymen. And for wounding her heart with her insult.

‘Do not dare speak of our people in such an insulting manner!’ Myrcella cried, Jaime grabbed her arm from behind.

‘Myrcella, calm yourself.’

‘Now, now… there will be none of that?’ Cersei placed her hands on Myrcella’s cheeks. ‘Aren’t you happy to be home.’

‘No, I wish to return to my husband,’ Myrcella replied, trying to pull her face out of her mother’s grasp.

Cersei went paler than she already was. ‘Husband?’

‘Myrcella married my nephew, Trystane. Her betrothed of several years.’

‘Yes, but they were not supposed to marry yet. Myrcella, how could you— No matter, we will handle it. You were never meant to marry into that ghastly family.’

‘But I love Trystane!’ Myrcella protested. ‘And I hate you! I hate you so much! Why did you have to take me away from him?!’

Cersei remained calm although her expression betrayed the intensity of her rage at her daughter’s words. Y/N sneaked her hand into Myrcella’s and squeezed it, hoping the girl would understand that she needed to calm. Yes, Cersei would never hurt her children, but that was before. The half-melted ruin that used to be the Sept of Baelor was the proof that this Cersei was volatile and more dangerous than ever. 

‘Jaime, take Myrcella back to her old chambers,’ Cersei ordered her brother who started walking off with his disgruntled daughter who kept fighting against his grasp, calling after Y/N in despair. Y/N herself rushed forward, but was grabbed by Bronn and kept in place. Myrcella fought until Jaime made her stay quiet. Before Y/N knew it, she was alone with Cersei Lannister, safe for Bronn, the old man who still stood by the Iron Throne and a towering knight who kept to the shadows behind the throne. 

‘If I’m not needed, can I be excused?’ Bronn spoke up in what was obviously his usual undisturbed way. He released his hold on Y/N and she wobbled in place. ‘I want me some good ale after that fucking boat ride.’

‘You are free to go.’ Cersei did not even spare him a glance. She instead focused on Y/N. ‘Let’s find you a place to stay, Lady Martell.’

Y/N quietly followed the older woman out of the throne room, but noticed that the knight who stood behind the throne, followed them at a reasonable distance. His gargantuan stature made Y/N feel like a deer trapped by a huntsman. There were few men in the Seven Kingdom’s who could boast with such a size and menace, and Y/N was afraid to even admit to herself who she suspected the knight was underneath the gilded helmet. Instead she focused on her surroundings, soaking up as much information as possible about her whereabouts. They were climbing a lot of stairs, which only meant that she was not being taken to the usual guest quarters. Of course, Y/N could not expect Cersei Lannister to afford her any comfort at all. 

They reached a single door at the very top of one of the many towers, Cersei pushed it open and violently grabbed Y/N by the arm, flinging her into the space inside. Y/N stumbled, but kept her footing, and stared at Cersei in astonishment. 

‘How dare you turn my daughter against me!’

‘I have done no such thing,’ Y/N defended herself. ‘She is a bright young woman who can make up her own mind. You should instead ask yourself why could you have done to push her away?’

Cersei’s nostrils flared in anger, but her lips pulled in a threatening smirk. ‘If I remember you had a child of your own?’

‘Two boys,’ Y/N replied with caution. She was so grateful that Salvador and Ellarion were many miles away, safe with their father. 

‘Two boys. How lucky!’ Cersei’s breathy laugh was amplifying the feeling of dread in Y/N’s belly. The older woman slowly stalked towards her, like a lion preparing to attack. ‘And the reports of Daenerys Targaryen coming to Dorne, I suppose they’re true.’ When Y/N did not reply, Cersei continued. ‘It was not a question, it’s why I sent Jaime to fetch Myrcella. You were… an unexpected bonus, but you will have your uses.’

‘I do not have any information you might find useful.’

‘You have two pretty useful hands. You will write to your husband,’ Cersei commanded. ‘You will urge him to turn the little Targaryen whore away and bend the knee to me.’

‘He will never do such a thing,’ Y/N huffed out a laughter of disbelief.

‘He will if he ever wants to see his wife again,’ Cersei threatened, her eyes moving about the room like she was giving it an appraisal. ‘It is quite funny actually… your husband’s sister was put in this room during Robert’s Rebellion. This is where she met that… tragic end of hers.’

Y/N noted the poorly vailed threat. It made her belly quiver with anger and fear. ‘Oberyn will come for me. If anything Dorne is already mustering up soldiers to come to King’s Landing with the entirety of Queen Daenerys’s army. They will put an end to your tyranny.’

Cersei smirked, ‘Oh, will they? I am betting on your husband showing up here, you little whore. Just so I could crush his forces and those of the Targaryen girl.’

‘If you don’t mind me saying, the number of your soldiers looks diminished,’ Y/N bit back. 

Smack! Cersei’s hand flew against her cheek, the slap making her head whip and injured cheek feel raw. Y/N understood she had hit a sore spot. Her hypothesis was correct: Cersei did not have enough soldiers. Even if she did before, most of them must’ve defected after she blew up a big chuck out of the city. 

‘Forgive my manners,’ Cersei gritted her teeth. She straightened her back and clasped her hands before herself. ‘You will be given parchment and ink. Food and water will be brought to you. You are a royal hostage, you will receive… some comforts if you’re obedient. A maid will be assigned to you when you’re deserving of one.’

‘And what will my obedience consist of?’

‘Writing to your husband first and foremost as I instructed. Your letter will be checked, of course. And if you follow my rules, you will not suffer greatly.’

‘Why do you want my husband to bend the knee to you? You do not care for Dorne.’

Cersei chuckled, ‘Your accent amuses me. No, no, I could not give a rat’s arse about that wasteland and its depraved people. Once your husband steps foot into this city, he will die. Your marriage will be annulled and your two boys will be made bastards.’

Y/N’s eyes widened in terror. She could take any threat on her life, but threatening her husband and children was another thing entirely. Her breathing quickened and eyes filled with angry tears. ‘You will not dare.’

‘You saw what I did to get rid of those who do not serve me. I do whatever I please,’ Cersei said. She turned on her heel to leave the room, halting at the door. ‘Oh, I will make sure Ser Gregor keeps an eye on you. He’s quite familiar with this room after all.’

Gregor Clegane let out a growling chuckle that rumbled deep in his broad chest. The hold of his hand on the pommel of his great sword tightened and the squeak of his leather gloves seemed to echo in the empty corridor.

‘Why are you doing this? What have I ever done wrong to you?’ 

Cersei turned around with nothing but burning hatred in her eyes. ‘Your family took my daughter from me. You will all pay for it dearly. Sleep well,’ she said in a low, saccharine voice and slammed the door shut, the sound of the latch on the outside being the last thing Y/N heard before she was abandoned in the sombre room.

Next chapter

A/N: Next chapter is called Winter Comes to Dorne so I will let you make your own conclusions about what that means. As always, all updates are on Sunday.

(taglist is still open)

tags: @wonderlandgabby @kaline-92 @agingerindenial @thesadvampire @gothicxbarbie @paintballkid711 @sarahjkl82-blog @tercabed @ayamenimthiriel @maharani-radha-writes @gingerbreadandpaper @talesfromtheguild @beefcakebarnes @thebatshitcrazyfangirl @eternallyvenus @mrsdaamneron @ket-nee @h1de-s0urce @panagiasikelia @frietiemeloen @luckystrikesalterego @fruit-of-my-hoechloins @bbuckysbeardd @supernaturalgirl20 @stankface @persie33 @fan-of-encouragement @cjbtw @rosewinx @amidalaraan @emofairyprincessofarkansas​ @ikinmahlen​

#of vipers and doves #iwritetopassthetime #oberyn martell x reader #Oberyn Martell #prince oberyn #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal

[megsironthrone]

New World

Based on this request:  Supernatural AU. Its actually based on season 6 episode “The French Mistake” xD Where Jaime is in love with Y/N Stark (Ned’s youngest sister) ever since he saw her the first time in winterfell years ago but he never had the courage to admit it. And when he was about to tell her he was sent into our world and he was Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and he is married to Y/N Coster-Waldau and they have two daughters together (might be in two parts idk xD)

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: This is based on the SPN episode “The French Mistake”. I use the actors’ names, but it’s not actually them! A little angst? Fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Jaime Lannister x fem!Stark reader, mentions of Tyrion

Jaime had never been a coward before. Not once in his life. But when it came to you, the man just couldn't seem to tell you exactly how he felt. You were Ned Stark's sister. He shouldn't have the feelings for you that he did. Lions and wolves did not mix well. But Jaime couldn't help it. Over the course of so many years, Jaime had fallen madly in love with you. He just. Couldn't. Tell. You!

         Whenever Jaime would open his mouth to say the words, someone would inevitably interrupt. Or you would look up at him with soft (e/c) eyes and a smile that made his knees weak. Jaime would find his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his courage gone. But now, with the world about to go to all seven hells, Jaime knew he had to say something. It was already late and you were probably asleep, so Jaime made up his mind to tell you the next morning. That would be a mistake.

         Jaime woke the next morning to someone shaking his shoulder. "Nik. Wake up!" Jaime groaned lightly as his eyes opened. "What is it, Tyrion?" The man before him scoffed lightly. "Very funny. Come on. You'll be late and your wife will start calling me."

         Jaime sat up in confusion. The man he was talking to looked like Tyrion and sounded like Tyrion, but there was something off about him. Then Jaime looked around. These were not his chambers. Before he could ask about that, another thought popped into his mind. "Wife?" Tyrion looked slightly worried for a second, which seemed out of place. Not to mention, there was no sign of the scar across his face from the Battle of the Blackwater. "Yes, your wife. How much did you have to drink last night? And why are you still in costume?" Jaime shook his head, utterly confused.

         As he was about to ask Tyrion what he meant, the door opened. "Niko-oh, hello, Peter. I see you've found my husband." Tyrion, or rather "Peter", chuckled and left. Jaime glanced over and his eyes widened. You were standing before him with your hands on your hips and a slightly expanded belly.

         "Y/N?" You rolled your eyes and repeated what Tyrion had said, "Very funny, Nikolaj. Have you been drinking?" Jaime rubbed his eyes while you took a step closer. You placed a hand on his arm, making him look at you again. "Are you alright?" Jaime pondered for a moment. He wasn't hurt or anything. Just really confused. Why was everyone calling him Nik or Nikolaj? And why were they all dressed so strangely. Were you really married to him?

         "I-I supposed. Just confused." You smiled. "You've been working far too much lately, love," you chastised playfully before placing a kiss to his forehead. Jaime closed his eyes and sighed in content. This was what he had been wanting forever. As confused as he was in that moment, you were anchoring him. You pulled back with a smirk. "I'd offer to help you out of that costume, but I'm pretty sure that's what got us into this situation," you said, gesturing to your belly, "Come on. Get changed so we can go home. The girls are excited to see you."

         "The girls?" You arched a brow before placing a hand to his forehead. "Our daughters. Are you feeling okay?" Jaime nodded and you smiled. "Good. Seriously though, get changed. You can't go walking around in your costume all day." With that, you left the small space, leaving a very confused Jaime behind. What was happening?

         Jaime changed into some strange, albeit comfortable, clothing and followed after you. You were waiting with a smile and a cup in hand. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up. I've missed being on the set with you so I thought the least I could do is bring you some coffee once in a while." You kissed his cheek. Jaime felt his face heat up. "Let's go home."

         For the rest of the day, Jaime walked around with a sense of awe and wonder. This world was so different. So new. But even the novelty of where he was couldn't shake away the pure joy when he walked into the home you supposedly shared and was greeted by three young girls wrapping their arms around him. You simply stood aside and laughed lightly. Jaime felt tears welling up in his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted a life with you; children with you. He reached over and pulled you into the little group hug and kissed your temple. If he never got back to his world, Jaime didn't think he would care. Right now, he had everything he wanted although he would have to get used to the name Nikolaj.

         At the end of the day, Jaime was a bit unsure when the two of you retired to your chambers. You climbed into bed, but Jaime hung back. Your head cocked to the side in confusion. Spending the day with you was one thing, but sleeping in the same bed was something completely different. "Nik? You coming to bed?" Jaime slowly joined you in the bed, stiffening briefly when you moved closer and rested your head on his chest.

         After a moment, he relaxed. He knew that this was how family life could have been for him back in Westeros if he had only been brave enough to tell you how he felt. He vowed that, if this dream should end, he would tell you every day how he felt. If he somehow ended up back in Westeros, he would tell you the moment he saw you that he loved you. With that in mind, he fell asleep again, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms.

         Once again, Jaime was cold when he awoke the next morning. He groaned slightly as he sat up. His eyes widened when he realized he was once more in his chambers in Winterfell. Had it all been a dream? A wish deep in his heart that felt so real in his slumber? Either way, Jaime knew what he had to do.

         Shooting out of the bed, Jaime made sure he was appropriately covered before hastily leaving the room. He made his way to your chambers. He only hoped you were still there. He had no idea what time it was. Jaime practically pounded on your door, earning a "just a moment," from the voice inside. The door opened a moment later, revealing you wearing a very confused expression.

         "Jaime?" you asked. For a moment, Jaime couldn't speak again. Then, his mind went back to what he thought was a dream. He needed to see if having that was a possibility. He needed to know. "May I come in?" Your confusion grew, but you let him in anyway. You didn't care if it caused talk. You never had.

         "What is this ab-"

         "I love you!" Jaime nearly yelled, making you jump slightly. "I-what?" you replied, flabbergasted. "I love you, Y/N. For years, I've hidden it. Fought against it even, but I can't any longer." You stared at him and didn't say anything. Jaime looked into your eyes, silently pleading with you to say something. Anything.

         "You love me?" you asked in disbelief. Jaime reached over and took one of your hands in his flesh one. "Yes. It's madness. A Lannister and a Stark is complete and utter madness, but I do. I've done…terrible things, Y/N. Things that make me unworthy of your love and affection. But you deserve all the love I can give you and more, if you wish it." You let your gaze drop to the floor and Jaime panicked as the room went silent.

         Then, a sniffle followed by another. You tightened your grip on Jaime's hand and looked up. Jaime could see the tears gathering in your eyes, but there was a smile on your face. "Oh, Jaime, I love you. I've been trying to show you for years." Jaime thought for a moment.

         Every lingering touch. Every soft smile. Every time you jumped to his defense. It was you who convinced Robb to try and trade him for your nieces instead of killing him. It was you who had convinced Jon that he would need Jaime in the war to come instead of killing or exiling him. You had always been there.

         Your free hand came up to card through the beard that now covered Jaime's jaw. "I like the beard," you said with a slight giggle. Jaime's chuckles joined yours before he brought your other hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I love you, Y/N." You stepped a little closer, peering into his green eyes. "I love you too, Jaime." Jaime let his free arm wrap around your waist and he pulled you even closer. He rested his forehead on yours and sighed in content. This wasn't the new world he'd seen in his dreams, but it was the start of a new world, a new life, for the both of you. And Jaime couldn't wait to see what it had in store.

(a/n: I really hope you like it! I had a lot of fun with this one!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

Jaime Lannister Tags: @faith-in-dean​

#game of thrones #george r.r.martin #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime x reader

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Youngest - Jaime Lannister

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Reader (Platonic)

Characters: Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon: “Could you write an imagine for being the youngest Lannister? Y/N is a girl but looks up to Jaime and wants to be a knight like him. She also loves Cersei and Tyrion. Some sibling fluff please?”

Word Count: 766

Author: Hannah

Being the youngest in your family had its merit – you tended to get away with things a lot easier than your elder siblings, and your father didn’t put as much pressure on you as he did his eldest children.

You knew that not a lot of people favoured your family, you weren’t exactly known for being kind or forgiving but you were loyal to your own.

Your eldest brother Jaime had always been your favourite and you made no attempts to hide it.

Your only sister, Cersei, whilst she seemed cold and horrid to others to you, she was like a mother.

And your other brother Tyrion, he had his moments where he was cool and sarcastic but when he was with you, he always tried his hardest to get you to smile.

By no means were you a functional and loving family but you loved each other in your own ways.

Whilst you were sat at your window seat of your chambers, enjoying the view with a book in your hand, a knock sounded from your door.

“Who is it?” you questioned without getting up.

A chuckle came before your answer. “Your brave and noble brother, my lady.”

“Tyrion?”

As your door was pushed open, your brother Jaime groaned before he stepped inside and pushed the door shut.

“Well you’re certainly not brave and noble,” you joked with a smile.

Jaime held a hand to his heart. “You wound me dear sister.”

Giggling you placed your book down and rose to stand next to your brother.

“I came to fetch you,” he stated, offering you his arm.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t aware of any gatherings.”

He simply shot you a wink before taking your hand and tucking it into his elbow. “All will be revealed soon dear sister.”

The two of you walked through the palace halls until you reached your elder sister’s chambers, as the Queen Regent she still had rather prestigious chambers.

Jaime pushed open her door and you saw your other two siblings, your nephews and niece and your father all gathered together.

For the second time that day you were confused.

“What is this?”

Your nephew Joffrey rose, with a rare smile on his face that he reserved for you and occasionally his mother.

Joffrey held up a glass of wine towards you and motioned for the rest of your family to do the same.

“As your King, my dearest Aunt, it is with great pleasure that I inform you of your accepted knighthood and a place on my guard if you so wish.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, turning to Jaime in shock.

It was no secret to your family that you had always looked up to Jaime, as well as longed to become a knight like him but it was not commonplace for a woman of your standing to be accepted into the fold.

And to be accepted onto the king’s guard, given all that you were required to sacrifice, really was a great honour.

Your father cleared his throat causing you to turn to him. “Whilst you have some training my dear, it is not sufficient and therefore your brother will be in charge of you until such time that he believes you are capable on your own.”

“Is this some sort of joke?” you questioned, still not believing what you were hearing.

Tyrion slurped his wine rather loudly as he rolled his eyes. “Now now dear sister, you are not mentally retarded nor are you incapable of physical exertion.”

Rolling your eyes, mimicking your brother, you retorted. “And we all know, dear brother, just how mentally retarded you are so it is a shame that myself, as the youngest, must make up for your short comings.”

Whilst your father grimaced at your over exaggeration of a certain word, Tyrion simply laughed as he always did with your humour and raised his glass to you.

Cersei rose from her seat and came to envelop you in an embrace.

“Take the knighthood young one,” she whispered in your ear as she squeezed you gently. “It is all you have ever wanted after all.”

Smiling at your elder sister as she took a step back from you, you bowed your head towards your nephew. “It would be my pleasure, your grace, to accept the position on your guard.”

At your words, your family broke out into applause and cheers causing you to laugh and shake your head at those around you – yes you were cold and unforgiving to others, but to each other you were valued.

#Hannah #Jaime Lannister #Jaime Lannister One Shot #Jaime Lannister Imagine #Game Of Thrones #Game Of Thrones One Shot #Game Of Thrones Imagine #GOT #GOT One Shot #GOT Imagine #Anon Request #Cersei Lannister #Tywin Lannister #Tyrion Lannister #Joffrey Baratheon #Youngest

[the-jade-cross]

The Lannister Wolf - Part 1 Introduction

HI! Sorry I'm not putting this chapter up till now but over the past week I've had a change of heart and so the story plot of the story, as well as the cover and title are different than what they originally were:) So don't freak out if the title and cover are different but I thought that these were a little more interesting and suited the story better:) I originally was going to have the story follow the storyline of the first season of Game of Thrones and then skip seasons 2-7 and jump to season 8 when I realized how utterly stupid I am, not even thinking about the time between the two seasons! In that case, I will be following the storyline a little more closely and there will be 8 parts to the story: one part for each season:) Please don't hate me but I actually haven't watched all of GOT yet!!!!!! I have only watched 1-4 completely and a few parts here and there of 5-6. I'm working on it but don't be surprised if the dialog is not like it is in the TV series:)

Another announcement: I have gone back and have added pictures to the first few chapters I have written so far. I realize that I haven't been efficient with supplying chapters with illustrations so I will try harder! Just, I'm picky about the illustrations so I want them to be perfect for the chapter so don't be surprised if some chapters have pictures but others don't!

As far as content go, I am keeping this definitely PG-13 for 99.9% of the time. There will be no cuss words because I personally do not use language and it often times offends me due to personal reasons. There will be mentions of Jaime and Cersei's incest but nothing too inappropriate. There will be a few chapters between the significant characters which I might rate M but I will let you know at the beginning of the chapter and star the chapters so you are prepared and aware:)

Last but not least, I have received some hate in my Edward Cullen fanfiction because one of the readers did not like the idea of Edward not being paired up with Bella (but it was an Edward x oc story.... naturally he wouldn't be paired up with Bella!), but anyway, do not be afraid to express your opinions for I am open for criticism. It helps me become a better, stronger writer when I know where I go wrong or what people prefer. I might however come back with an answer of either accepting the criticism or justifying it. Honestly, I know the feeling when you think a story will be great but it turns out to have some things you do not agree with. I totally get it! Not everyone's piece of cake! I put out my own thoughts on fanfiction stories too but I am also a writer so there will be times when I feel the need to defend my choices so just FYI. I don't hate comments, good or bad, kind or rude so don't think I'm trying to be mean or hate you by replying to your comments:)

CHARACTERS

POSTER

Name: Evelyn Juliana Stark

Age: 17

Hair color: Black

Fighting Hair style   ,    leisure hair style    ,        ,      fighting attire

Eye color: Amber

Family members: Robb Stark (twin brother), Ned and Catelyn Stark (parents), Sansa and Arya Stark (Sisters), Bran and Rickon Stark (Brothers), Jon Snow (half brother/cousin)

Direwolf: Zinzi - female (pronounced: Sh-ih-n-zz-ee)

Name: Jaime Lannister

Age: 35

Hair color: Blond (duh!) XD

Eye color: in the books they are green but I'm following the series so: blueXD

Family members: Cersei Lannister (twin sister), Tyrion Lannister (brother), Tywin Lannister (father), Tommen and Joffrey Baratheon (nephews/really sons), Myrcella Baratheon (niece/really daughter), Robert Baratheon (brother-in-law)

Horse: Egan, meaning "little fire" ( I was gonna leave this blank but I think Jaime needs a pet... as a stress relieverXD)

#jaime lannister #jaime lannister x oc #game of thrones #got

[myriadimagines]

Quite The Contrary

Game of Thrones One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jaime Lannister

Other Characters: Ned Stark, Arya Stark, Sansa Stark

Warnings: Mild violence

Requester: anonymous

Request: “(1/2) One-Shot: Jaime Lannister x reader, where the reader is Ned Star youngest sister, known as the Silver Wolf, she had always loved winter and coldness more than anything and is absolutely not amused when she had to go in Kings Landing with her brother and nieces, of course her behavior catch Jaime's eyes. In Kings Landing the reader manage to participate at a tournament without anyone permission and Jaime start to fall for her. (2/2) The reader isn't quite not sure if she should return his feelings, but still loved him anyway.” 

Word Count: 1,834

A/N: The amount of time I spent procrastinating this................ unbelievable. I wrote like six different sections of it not chronologically then had to create some botched transitions to patch it all together. If it was a blanket it would look like a really screwed up quilt. And yet I am still unsatisfied with the result, but then again am I ever. Anyway sorry for the weird analogy

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

King’s Landing is a repulsive cesspool of corruption and horrors that you abhor setting foot in. It represents all that is wrong with society, a city that, despite its large population, lacks warmth and familiarity, a place that you could never call home. The Red Keep towers over the city, a prominent, shadowing reminder of the wealth and power of the few that reside inside, a distinct dichotomy from places such as Flea Bottom, where the poor are forced to live in meager conditions and survive on the minimum. 

To top it all off, you despise the warm climate of King’s Landing, much preferring the familiar coolness of Winterfell, the environment you’ve grown up in and have known all your life.

As you walk your horse through the streets of King’s Landing, tightening your reins as you avoid the blatant stares of the civilians around you, you remind yourself that the only reason you agreed to come here was for Sansa and Arya. Ned had insisted you come, explaining that he needed someone to take care of the girls, as he expected to be mostly occupied with his newfound job as Hand of the King. You had reluctantly agreed to do your older brother this favor, ignoring his teasing laughter as you grumbled to him about how much he owes you for this. 

The crowds before you suddenly part, scattering to the edge of the cobblestone streets as you realize another horse is trotting towards you. Squaring your shoulders, your immediately recognize the signature Lannister armor, the gold details glimmering under the blazing sunlight before the knight’s face comes into focus.

He’s smirking at you, lips quirked upward in a mixture of amusement and fascination, and your eyes narrow as Jaime Lannister pulls his horse to a halt.

“y/n Stark.” he greets, his pompous tone almost immediately irritating you. Exaggeratedly gesturing behind him, he continues, “Welcome to King’s Landing.”

“Delighted to be here.” you deadpan, and you feel momentarily at a loss for words as you manage to make Jaime laugh. He smiles at you, flashing you a gorgeous grin that makes your breath hitch, and you press your lips together in a flat line to stop yourself from smiling back.

“If you follow me, I can show you around.” Jaime offers, extending his hand. You quickly snap out of your trance, shaking your head as you gather your reins in your hands, already steering your horse past Jaime’s. 

“I’ll find my own way.” you lean towards him, and at this, Jaime raises an eyebrow. You nudge your heels into the sides of your horse and trot off, and Jaime turns his head, his gaze following you. To turn down King’s Landing’s golden boy, to not fall victim to the infamous Jaime Lannister’s charms, is almost unheard of. 

But Jaime is never one to turn down a challenge.

—

You gaze out of your balcony, leaning against the edge as you admire the view of King’s Landing from your chambers. Despite the ugliness that hides underneath the uniformed streets and golden sunlight pouring down, you can’t deny the city’s beauty. 

“y/n!” a young voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Arya standing in your doorway. You smile at her, raising an eyebrow as Arya continues, “I want to go explore.”

You shake your head, already hearing Ned berating you for allowing Arya to run through the streets alone if you allow her too. Your travels exhausted you, and you can’t summon the energy to accompany Arya’s energetic self.

“Go play with Sansa.” you wave your hand, and Arya frowns, stubbornly folding her arms across her chest and firmly planting her feet in the ground.

“No!” Arya snaps, and you bite back an amused smile as you tilt your head towards your young niece. “Sansa’s boring — all she talks about is getting married to stupid Joffrey. I want to do something fun.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you beckon for Arya to come closer. Although you love both your nieces dearly, you always feel like you can relate to Arya more than Sansa. Checking to make sure the doorway is empty, you decide maybe you can muster up some energy, and you lean towards her as you say, “If you want to have some fun, I think I have just the thing in mind.”

—

The helmet that precariously balances on Arya’s head is comically oversized, yet it was the only thing you could find to hide her face from the crowds. You firmly grip her wriggling hand as she attempts to dart ahead of you, her excitement getting the better of her as the two of you squeeze past cheering crowds, making your way into a clearing. You can see Arya’s eyes widen, exhilarated, as she sees horses galloping towards one another, the joust full of action as the sound of thundering hooves almost overpower the rowdy yelling of the crowds. Over in the stands, you can see Ned and Sansa watching intently, and you quickly duck your head to avoid being seen by your brother. Arya jumps up and down excitedly as you smile at her, before directing her towards another clearing, where smaller tournaments of sword fighting are taking place. 

Arya manages to slip out of your grasp, running towards the makeshift barrier around the circumference of the area. You chase after her, watching just in time as one of the men knocks the other down, driving his sword into the soil as he places his foot on his opponent’s chest for good measure. The crowd around erupts into a series of cheers and jabs, and you watch as some men gleefully accept money from others, presumably from bets taken place before the tournament. Your eyes scan the arena, and you see a small stand filled with swords and armor to the side, and an idea pops into your head. You kneel before Arya, a mischievous glint in your eye as you instruct, “Promise me you’ll stay put.”

Arya’s eyebrows furrow. “Where are you going?”

You look over your shoulder at the swords, and Arya almost immediately understands. A grin lights up her face as you give her shoulder a little squeeze, and you take the helmet off her head before slipping it on. Just as the man in the arena calls out to the crowd for any challengers, you raise your hand, already putting on some armor abandoned by the weapons before you draw a sword. The man, unable to see your face, gladly accepts, beckoning you to come into the area just as Jaime strolls up, lingering in a slightly secluded corner to avoid drawing attention. The men around him start placing their bets, none of them having faith in the strange newcomer who showed up unannounced. You don’t waste much time, quickly making the first move as you swing the sword, which doesn’t quite move in the way you want it to as your opponent skips to the side. You readjust your grip, becoming accustomed to the weight of the weapon in your hand, and you swing again. Better now, you think, and your opponent stumbles backwards clumsily as he narrowly dodges your strike. 

“Go y/n!” Ayra’s shrill voice is barely heard over the crowd, but you smile under your helmet at your niece’s enthusiasm. Unbeknownst to you, you are not the only one to hear Arya’s encouragement, and Jaime’s head snaps in Arya’s direction before his eyes widen in surprise. He quickly connects the dots, watching you and your opponent skip around the arena, listening to metal clanging and low grunts as the two of you advance and retreat towards one another. Smirking to himself, Jaime folds his arms across his chest, studying your every move — it’s impressive, watching you fight. It’s not long before it’s clear you have the upper hand, ruthlessly pushing your opponent towards the edge of the arena, and your opponent can do nothing but helplessly defend himself with choppy blows with a sword that feels increasingly heavy in his tired arm. Arya lets out another loud cheer as you strike again, knocking the sword out of his hand, and you raise your leg to kick him square in the chest. The audience roars as your opponent falls, and you angle the tip of your sword under his chin. 

Jaime raises an eyebrow, feeling a smile settle onto his lips as you tilt your opponent’s head up with your sword. He has to admit, it’s rather attractive.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the intoxicating atmosphere of the crazed crowd, but against your better judgement, you pull off your helmet, revealing your smug smile as crowd erupts into chaos, and Jaime’s smile only widens.

Your opponent’s face immediately flushes, no doubt embarrassed by his defeat at the hands of a woman, yet you only find it more satisfying, more entertaining. Stepping back, you turn to the crowds, dramatically bowing as they boo at you, and you can see Arya at the front of the crowd, angrily pummeling the leg of the man beside her in an attempt to defend your honor. Laughing to yourself, you quickly jog away before the crowd can get more hostile. You are just beginning to take off your armor in a quiet corner you’ve found when you hear someone clear their throat.

“Impressive.” Jaime’s voice stops you, and you turn to see him leaning against a post, gaze flickering up and down your armored body before he steps closer. “I enjoyed watching you fight.”

“Is that so?” you attempt to maintain indifference, ignoring Jaime’s blatant gaze sweeping over you. He chuckles, taking another step towards you, and you swear he’s close enough to hear your wildly beating heart give you away. Tilting your chin up, you somehow manage to keep your voice steady as you taunt, “Scared, Lannister?”

“Of you? No, quite the contrary.” Jaime grins. “I think perhaps we could train together. I could give you a few pointers, correct your form.”

At this, Jaime’s hand finds yours, tracing a finger down your arm before he turns your hand over in his. You feel set alight at his touch, but you know better than to associate with a Lannister.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from falling off the cliffside when you’ve already descended.

“I’ll have to think about your offer.” you snatch your hand away, flashing a sickly sweet smile before taking a step back, and Jaime shakes his head at you as he knows what you’re trying to do. Your smile turns suggestive as you shrug, and you continue, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to find my niece.”

You flash him one last smile before you turn, disappearing into the crowd to find Arya as you ignore your heart bursting out of your chest. Jaime knows the game you’re trying to play, knows you’re only delaying the inevitable.

But he’s willing to play, anyway. He is oh, so willing.

tags: @chinike / @gofandomsandotherstuff / @emmacata / @pascalisthepunkest​ / @musicallisto ↳ want to be added to the tag list?

#got imagine #jaime lannister imagine #got #got one shot #jaime lannister #jaime lannister one shot #reader x jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot

[damn-stark]

The lovely truth - Podrick Payne imagine

Podrick Payne x Lannister!reader

A/N- I hope you guys liked it!! :)

Warning- fluff

—

After defeating the night king and his army of the dead it felt like luck that you were still standing alive. You felt relief at the sight of your father and uncle still breathing and by you. You had quite few friends here in winterfell and the ones you had were all alive and well. And it wasn’t by choice that people didn’t like you. They just didn’t like the last name you have; Lannister. And after people heard that you weren’t Robert Baratheons child, but that of Cersei and Jaime Lannister’s child born of incest it seems like people really didn’t like you. Even if you were Sansa’s best friend.

Nevertheless, after burying those who had died fighting the dead you all have a feast to celebrate those who lived, and the success of winning.

You go inside the hall and sit by your father Jaime and your uncle Tyrion, your mutual friend Ser Brienne and, Podrick.

Yes you called Podrick a friend but you didn’t want him to be a friend, but much more then a friend. You had met him when he was squire to your uncle Tyrion. When you had first layed eyes on his squire you thought he was cute. He was shy for the most part but after a while you got to talking more, and then you two became the closest of friends. That was until he left with Ser Brienne.

Before he had left though you knew you liked him but you didn’t know if he liked you. Everytime he walked inside the same room as you, you felt your heart skip a beat and butterflies in your stomach. He was always kind to you and never treated you rudely. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him but never got the chance to because of the events that unfolded before he left. And now when you two reunited again you never had the courage to tell him, so you remain quiet about your feelings.

It was the lingering looks at one another, or the way either Podrick or you looked at one another when you neither of you was looking that gave it away though yo everyone else who paid attention. It was the way your hands would graze one another ever so slightly, the way you two blushed when you saw eachother enter a room, or how much you two talked of one another to other people that made it obvious to anyone else how you two felt towards one another.

It hurt Tyrion so much that he couldn’t say anything about the regard. He wanted to help you two but Podrick told him not to. Then again Tyrion knew that if he went another day without saying anything he would throw himself over the tallest tower in winterfell. Especially because you all had the close to death exprience from the battle.

So with that thought out , as you sat by your uncle and in front of Podrick. As you enjoyed the night, hearing, laughing and drinking to any question asked for the game you were playing, your uncle interjects.

“Okay now your turn my loving niece.” Your uncle says as he turns his body to face you.

All eyes land on you now as you wait with a small smile for him to ask a question. He proceeds to serve you wine and fixes himself where he sits. “You like someone.”

Your smile fades and you swallow thickly at his statement.

“That’s not a questi-”

“Uh-uh my turn. You like someone in this room, sitting on this table. You have for a long time but never had the courage to say so.” He finishes saying with his eyebrows raised and your wine cup in his hand. He pushes it closer to you, causing you to snatch it. You then look at your father who sits by him with a straight face. You look over at Podrick and feel your cheeks turn hot, so as quickly as you look at him you look away and look at your wine to drink it.

“And you.” Your uncle says and turns to face Podrick.

“Tyrion I think that’s enough.” Your father says to his drunk brother. But Tyrion only raises his hand to shush him.

“You also like someone in this room and on this table. You always have but have been too shy to say anything on the matter.....The person you like is Y/N.”

Podricks cheeks turn a bright red. He makes eye contact with you and swallows thickly. He then drinks quickly and avoids your gaze. He looks at your father who watches him intently, making Podrick swallow thickly again but this time out of fear.

“Finally! I’ve said it, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer... to the lovely truth.” Your uncle says with a wide smile like that of a little child’s after getting a present. He lifts his cup of wine like if he had just made a toast and drinks it all at once.

After that you felt angry at your uncles truth he said. It was not his truth to say especially not the way he said it. You got up from the table and left in a huff. You left the hall and went outside. You would’ve felt cold after stepping out to the cold and snowy weather but you had drank wine and the cold didn’t affect you as it should have. You heard footsteps get closer and you were afraid to turn and see who it was. Mainly because you were afraid it was going to be Podrick.

“Everything alright? Saw you leave quickly and and you didn’t look good you alright?” You heard a soft voice ask. You immediatly recognized the voice belonging to Sansa.

“Yes Im alright just... getting fresh air.” You said as you turned to look at Sansa. You mustered up a small smile.

“Are you sure? You don’t look alright.” Sansa commented taking a better look at you. You make your smile bigger and nod. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re my best friend I know you’re not alright. Your face gives it away... and I might have been watching you when Tyrion was talking to you.” Sansa said as she put her hand on your shoulder. You shook your head and breathed out.

“It’s just that.. my uncle Tyrion said some truths he was not meant to say... it weren’t his truths to say I mean.” You say looking at the snow covered ground. Sansa remained quiet and then took her hand off your shoulder.

“About what?” She asked. You looked up at her and then towards the hall you had left.

“About my feelings towards Podrick.” You quietly said.

“It’s about time. It was really hard seeing you two stare at eachothers eyes and not say anything.” She said with a smile. “It’s a good thing he said it or else I know you wouldn’t have.” You took a step back and gasp like if what she had said had hurt you.

“I would have!” You told her as you giggled. She just raised and eyebrow and giggled herself.

“Go talk to him. Before I lock you two up and force you two to only talk to one another.” You nodded at her comment and were hesitant to go inside but she held your hand and pulled you inside.

When you were inside again she left your side and left you alone. You looked over at the table you had been sitting on before and saw that Tyrion was leaving and that your father and Ser brienne were gone. You took a deep breath and walked over. It’s like if you had called to Podrick because when you were close he turned his head to face you. You smiled shyly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. At the sight of him you still felt like your legs went weak and your heart beat faster. You sat by him and you saw him get nervous. You two were quiet and didn’t say anything to eachother. You drank a cup of wine and as you sat it down you looked at him.

“I’m sorry for my uncle he wasn’t supposed to say that.” You said fumbling with your words. He was quiet for a moment but he then smiled.

“I’m glad he did or else I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me to say the truth.” Podrick said. He grabbed your hand and held onto it in a comforting way. “I’m sorry I never told you but i want to say it now... I like you and want to be more then a friend. I have for a long time now but I could never say it to you.” He said and that caused you to smile wider. Your eyes got glossy at his words.

“I like you too Podrick and I’m glad I didn’t loose you during the battle or else I don’t know what I would have done if you had died without knowing the truth. I really do like you.” He smiled at your comment and cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was sweet and gentle just how you always thought it was going to be like. The kiss felt right. You felt like your heart was going to burst. When you pulled away you both had smiles on your faces.

“You’re beautiful Y/N Lannister and I’m glad your uncle said the truth.” He said making you laugh and kiss him one more time.

“To the lovely truth.”

.

.

.

.

#game of thrones #fanficiton #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #gameofthronesimagines #GOT #got imagine #podrick x reader #podrick payne #podrick x lannister!reader #podrick imagines #podrick payne imagines #tyrion lannister #jaime lannister #ser brienne #sansa stark

[lexakomtrikrusbitch-blog]

Jaime Lannister x Targaryen reader P.2

plot: after fourteen years of hiding from the people who slaughtered her family y/n Targaryen is ready to exact revenge on those people but will a certain lion break through her stone walls.

warnings: none that I can find.

a/n: in this chapter some very important characters will meet and create some very important relationships.

I do not own game of throne or these characters

Y/n grunted as her uncle brought his sword down on hers but she pushed back just as hard. The Targaryen girls hair was woven into a braid down her back, Oberyn could barely smell how fresh the dye was anymore. Y/n wore a dark brown leather tunic with sleeves down to her wrists and black training trousers, nothing that showed off how important she was. 

Her wrists were starting to cramp up after an hour with her longsword and sweat ran down her back. Y/n, Oberyn and the rest of the party including, Oberyn’s mistress and the guards had stopped just on the outskirts of kings landing. The guards were packing up camp from the night before when Oberyn had offered training between the two, by know everything had been packed up and the guards were watching the exchange between Y/n and Oberyn, making quit bets of which out of the two would win. The guards knew how strong Oberyn was, they also knew how quick Y/n was, a few of those soldiers had fought against her in training.

Just as Oberyn was about to jab at her stomach with his own longsword she intercepted and knocked his sword out of his hand and onto the dirt ground. in two more seconds y/n’s sword was at his throat ready to cut. 

“Good” Oberyn said slowly pushing the sword away with two fingers “If you can defeat the Red Viper, you can beat nearly anyone” he said with a small grin, he even catched glimpses of his men handing coins to each other here and there.

“I have you for a teacher” y/n said, grinning back. Just like what he used to do when Y/n was a child, Oberyn ruffled Y/n’s hair making her swat his hand away. “My hair already looks atrocious, don't make it look worse” she said with a huff.

The older man laughed at his niece, she always had a taste for finer things, it was the princess in her. “We should start getting to the city, they’re expecting us in a few hours, if we want to get there before they come to fetch us...” y/n let the sentence trail off.

“She is right” Ellaria said as she walked over “we need to get the message across that we don't obey them” 

Oberyn looked at the two woman in front of him and knew they were right, back in Dorne he didn't have to associate with politics, that was his brother Doran’s job but since his condition worsened Doran asked Oberyn to take his place. Now Oberyn’s in a place he hates, seeing people he hates while celebrating the wedding of a king he hates. Oberyn wanted to say no, he had no business in those things but Y/n convinced him to go and take her with him. 

“Please uncle, you know I need to go there, you should know how badly I need to be there, with those monsters” Y/n said the day she found out

“I know better than anyone, how badly you need to go” Oberyn shouted

“Then take me with you” Y/n shouted back

“I don't know if you're ready” he said softer “Y/n you have to kill these people and not get caught, if they know what you're doing they will kill you”

“it doesn't matter if I die, as long as I kill them” she said defiantly and in a split second Oberyn’s hand connected with Y/n’s cheek and sent her to the ground. Y/n laid on the ground face down for exactly four seconds while she fought to keep tears back, Oberyn had never hit her before.

“If you die, your mother died in vain, your sister died in vein, your brother died in vein” Oberyn shouted, his face going red “they gave their lives so you could live-”

Y/n snapped her head towards Oberyn at these words, getting angry “they gave nothing! Those people took they’re lives” she shouted. Y/n stood from her spot on the ground and faced her uncle head on “I will not let them die in vein because I will not die, I will kill all of them, the mountain, Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister and Cercei Lannister, even her two bastard sons” Y/n had started to shake with rage.

Oberyn looked at his niece, he could tell she wasn't lying, why would she? After looking at her face and the way her eyes started to water he concluded that she was ready, she was a smart girl, Oberyn made sure she grew up with an education, Y/n was more than ready, she was anticipating it. “Pack your things, clothes, weapons” he said and slowly reached out to put his hand on her shoulder “If you die, I will blame myself” suddenly his hand tightened “if you die, they died for nothing” that was the last thing he said before he walked towards Doran’s chambers to tell him he'd go to kings landing.

After the party arrived in Kings Landing without being greeted by a single Lannister, they started to settle in at the Red Keep, guards took up their positions and handmaidens busied themselves with unpacking. Oberyn and Ellaria where soon out of sight also, indulging themselves at the brothel down the street and soon Y/n was left alone in her chambers with a handmaiden. 

“This one Lady Martell” said the maid as she held up a flowing golden gown, loose but elegant. Y/n looked down at her dirty training clothes and nodded her head at the young girl, she looked at least 14. As the young girl started filling the bath tub to clean the dirt off her body three loud knocks sounded at the door and the handmaiden came rushing over but Y/n shooed her away. The Targaryen girl walked over to the wooden door the heels on her boots tapped  with each step. As Y/n opened the door she was confused to see only two guards but looked down to see Tyrion Lannister between the two.

“Lady Martell, it’s an honour to finally meet you” the dwarf said, bowing “I'm sorry that I wasn't there to greet you, you and your family were... no where to be seen” he said with a worried grin. Oberyn told Y/n to not be as rude towards the Lannisters, it'd be easier to kill them if they trusted her.

“Tyrion Lannister, the pleasure is all mine” Y/n said, the words felt like acid in her mouth “it seems that we did arrive earlier than you were expecting but I know you didn't come to my chambers to talk presentation”

“I’m having a bit of trouble locating your father, I think both of us know that letting him roam the streets is not a good idea, I'm surprised he even decided to take his brothers position and come here, Oberyn is not as interested in politics as some” Tyrion grimly said, you shouldn't be worried about him, Y/n thought to herself.

“I know where he is, I’ll come with you, I need to make sure he hasn't killed anybody yet” Y/n said as she closed the doors to her chambers behind her and lead the way towards the brothel down the street.

a/n: ok guys I'm planning on having Y/n and Jaime meet in the next chapter, I hope you're enjoying reading this so far, I'm having a lot of fun writing it and planning it all out.

tags: @camu-winchester

#game of thrones #got #y/n #reader #Jaime Lannister #jaime #jaime x reader #jaime lannister x reader #Jaime Lannister x y/n Targaryen #Marcella Lannister #Oberyn Martell #sand snakes #the sand snakes #game of thrones x reader #Targaryen raeder #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #Cersie Lannister #Tyrion Lannister #house targaryen #house stark #house baratheon #house sunspear #house tyrell #Sansa Stark #sansa #targaryen #stark #Baratheon #sunspear

[rreader]

could u do an imagine where the reader finds out her father is her uncle jaime?

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Daughter!ReaderFandom: GoT ; ASoIaFWarnings: lots of angst ; mentions of incest (obviously)

Summary: After Myrcella’s death, he couldn’t bury the secret that the four Baratheon children were actually his anymore. He needed to confront you, his eldest daughter, about it.

A/N: oh my god, IT’S FINALLY HERE. ANOTHER JAIME REQUEST. as always, I’m a sucker for daughter!reader, so thank you for requesting this hun! hope you like it!

                                                       *****

FirstJoffrey, now Myrcella..

Somehow,it seemed like luck didn’t favor your family.

Youstood on the battlements of the Red Keep, the wind blowing throughyour hair and drying the tears you were shedding for your sister.

Myrcellahad meant the world to you. She was your little sister, after all. The one you always tried to protect. Andwhen she went to Dorne, you knew that she would likely never return again. Butnow that it was only her lifeless body that had come back to you.. it was just.. too much.

“Whatcan I do?” a voice behind you said.

Asmall smile spread on your lips, immediately recognizing the voice.

“Nothing..I’m alright. I just.. needed some air,” you turned around to findyour uncle standing in front of you, “Are you? Alright, I mean.”

Jaime let out a long sigh and took a few steps towards you until he was standing right next to you, looking out over the ocean himself.

“No..not really.”

Yousoftly placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing once.

Youcouldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him.. holding her inhis arms while she was dying.. 

“Shewas too young to die,” he whispered, his voice filled with so muchpain.

“Shewas,” you agreed, your hand falling back to your side.

Jaime had always been close to Myrcella and you. Especially Myrcella, mostly because she was younger and you always knew how to take care of yourself.

Fora long time, neither of you said anything. Only the waves hitting thestones could be heard in the distance and an occasional sigh escaping your mouths.

Butthen, eventually, Jaime turned his head to look at you, contemplating whether ornot he should bring it up. But it had been on his mind ever since the words had left his niece’s/daughter’s mouth.

If Myrcella knew, then you knew as well, he was sure of it. You were always the clever one.. you were probably the one to tell her in the first place. 

For fuck’s sake you were hisdaughter. He didn’t have time with Myrcella, but he still had timewith you.. time to enjoy this life with you as his daughter, not his niece.

“UncleJaime?” you asked, after he’d been staring at you for a bit,“What’s wrong?”

“UncleJaime..,” he muttered and snorted, turning his head to look at thehorizon in front of him, “You know.. don’t you?”

Yourshoulders sank, releasing a breath you had been holding, then your eyes scanned the areato see if anyone else was around. Finally, you looked at him again.

“I did. Yes.”

Hetook a deep breath, relief rushing through his body.

Buteven if you knew? Would anything change? COULD anything even change?

“Whydid you never say anything?”

“Whatwas I supposed to say? What were any of us supposed to say?”

“Anyof you?” his brows drew together, “You all knew?”

“Well.. I was the first to figure it out. Then I started talking to Myrcella about it all and eventually we told Tommen. We never told Joffrey, though. We were afraid he would tell mother.”

One of his hands brushed through his hair.

Silence engulfed you once more. 

Wereyou happy that your parents were twins? No. Absolutely not. In fact,you were quite disgusted by it, especially because you were convincedthat this.. affair, was still going on. But nevertheless, the man infront of you was your father. You had thought your actual father diedall those years ago.. when you realized that it was not the case andthat you had a second chance for all of this.. you were.. happy.

“Myrcelladied before I could get a chance to spend time with her as her fatherand not her uncle,” he waited until you returned your attentionback to him, “I won’t make the same mistake with you, (Y/N). I wantto be your father. If you allow me to be.”

Youreyes started to become glossy at this point.

“Of course, I do.. but.. if someone finds out,” you reached for his hands.

“..noone is going to find out,” he wrapped his big hands around your small ones and leaned his forehead against yours, “No one.”

You really tried to keep the tears at bay. Whether it was because of the death of your sister, or the relief of knowing that you would finally be able to spend time with your real father.. that he wanted to spend time with you as his daughter..

Hedidn’t hesitate when the first tears rolled down your cheek. His left arm pulled you closer towards him, whilehis right hand cradled your head against his chest.

“I’mproud to be your father, (Y/N).”

Andthese words would have never come out of Robert Baratheon’s mouth.

“AndI’m glad to be able to call you my father,” because you truly,truly were.

He’ddo a much better job at it than Robert.

#whatshernamemaria #jaime lannister x reader #jaime x reader #jaime lannister imagine #jaime imagine #got imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #got #game of thrones #jaime lannister #jaime #reader #requests

[gamesofmuggles]

Masterlist #1

Hello, hello, here is our masterlist. Don’t worry we are still working on new stuff and finishing old ones. We will do a second masterlist with the new post, until then mischief managed.

Ship:

Ship 1: Athelstan

Ship 2 : Ivar

Ship 3 : Folki

Ship 4 : Bjorn

Ship 5 : Ubbe & Tommen 

Ship 6 : Porrun 

Ship 7 : Bjorn 

Ship 8 : Rollo   

Ship 9 : Ivar 

Ship 10 : Margaery & Ragnar

Ship 11: Jesus & Hvitserk 

Ship 12 : Oberyn & Sigurd 

Ship 13 : Gendry 

Ship 14 : Hvitserk & Abraham 

Ship 15 : Ubbe / George Weasley / Jonas

Ship 16 : Floki / Podrick

Ship 17 : Jon Snow / Chris 

Ship 18 : Bill Weasley

Ship 19 : Ron Weasley / Athelstan

Ship 20 : Jojen Reed / Ubbe / Charlie Weasley 

Ship 21 : Ivar 

Ship 22: Obi Wan / Young Ned Stark 

Ship 23 : Anakin Skywalker / Trystane Martell 

Ship 24 : Chris (Skins) / Arthur Shelby 

Ship 25 : Rollo 

Ship 26 : Theon Greyjoy / Young Sirius Black 

ShIp 27 : Robb Stark 

Ship 28 : Jonas Noah Vasquez / Tommen Baratheon 

Ship 29 : Young Ted Lupin / William Magnusson

Ship 30 : Ragnar and Rollo 

Ship 31 : Bjorn Lothbork / Magnus Fossbaken

Ship 32 : Chris Schistad / Draco Malfoy / Gendry 

Ship 33 : Newt Scamander / Sigurd / Jon snow

Ship 34 : Sam Tarly / Luke Skywalker 

Ship 35 : Barry Allen / Naomi Campbell 

Ship 36 : Richard Hardbeck / Finn Shelby 

Ship 37 : John Shelby 

Ship 38 : Floki / Alfie Solomons / Bronn 

Ship 39 : Daario / Athelstan 

Ship 40 : Neville Longbottom / Poe Dameron / JJ 

Ship 41 : Han Solo / Alo

Ship 42 : Halfdan / Young James Potter

Ship 43 : William / Ivar

Ship 44 : Freddie / Oliver Wood

Ship 45 : Stiles Stilinski / Finn Collins / Nick

Ship 46 : Khal Drogo / Thomas Shelby / Ubbe

Ship 47 : Hvitserk

Ship 48 : Michael Gray / Seamus Finnegan / Chris Miles

Ship 49 : Joffrey Baratheon / Rollo

Ship 50 : James Cook / Young Remus Lupin

Ship 51 : Cassian

Ship 52 : Young Ragnar / George Weasley

Ship 52bis (oops) : Daenerys Targaryen / Theon Greyjoy

Ship 53 : Peeta Mellark / Arthur Shelby

Ship 54 : Bronn / Ginny Weasley

Ship 55 : Young Robert Baratheon / Obiwan Kenobi

Ship 56 : Jon Snow / Torstein

Ship 57 : Regulus Black

Ship 58 : Harry Potter / Gendry Baratheon

Ship 59 : Sirius Black

Ship 60 : Michael Gray

Dating would include :

Dating the Ragnarssons 

Dating the sensates 

Dating the stark children 

Dating Jaime Lannister

Dating the bad guys of game of thrones

Dating Harry Potter girls 

Dating Halfdan or Harald 

Dating the Skam boys

Dating the Shelby siblings

Underrated appreciation post :

post #1 post #2 post #3 GOT EDITION  post #4 HP EDITION

Imagine / Headcanon :

Vikings :

Hvitserk child : part 1   part 2

Ubbe : in a relationship 

Hvitserk : in a relationship 

Sigurd in a relationship 

Ivar in a relationship 

Bjorn : the new vikings princess : PART 1 PART 2 

Harald being his wife 

Harald Finehair as a father 

Halfdan being his wife 

Ivar x Hvitser x Reader : Killing our own blood

Being Harald/Halfdan niece and dating Ivar

Game of Thrones :

Being Theon wife

Harry Potter :

James Potter : part 1, part 2

Sherlock :

Moriarty : One dance

Hunger Games:

Cato : Love you ‘till your father’s home

Sorted into :

Sorted into Got : part 1, part 2

Sorted into Vikings

Prompt:

Prompt list

Prompt 1 : Ice and Fire - Bran Stark

Prompt 2 : Not a doctor - Sherlock Holmes

Prompt 3 : I’m not interested, nerd - Jasper Jordan

Prompt 4 : Could be worse? - John Murphy

Prompt 5 : Now we're quits - Ramsey Bolton

Prompt 6 : The back door - Logan

Prompt 7 : Nobody ask you to be fearless- Robb Stark 

Prompt 8 : If not now - George Weasley

Fanfiction:

The marauders:

Chapter 1

All we need to do is to wish you a good reading! Much love

#masterlist #got masterlist #vikings masterlist #Harry potter masterlist #hp #Harry potter #vikings #got #game of thrones #imagine #ship #Headcanon #vikings ship #viking love #vikings headcanon #got ship #got imagine #vikings imagine #mortiary #Sherlock Holmes #fandom #cho chang #Ginny Weasley #Hermione Granger #ron weasley #fanfiction #prompt #dating would include #sorted into #fred weasley