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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐹𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛

Personalised story for @leniabranch Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lenia Branch Word Count: 2k Warnings: Things get a lil heated towards the end (sexually speaking)

You stood there shocked, well for a better word, dumbfounded.

The Hand of the King, arguably the most important man in Westeros, was down on one knee for you.

You could see the tinge of his skin; sailing did not become him. But he still looked handsome with his windswept hair and unkept beard (he had tried to make himself look as presentable as possible, but he could barely stand in front of the mirror on the rocking boat).

A crowd was already gathering, murmurs that the Hand of the King was proposing on the docks ran quickly throughout the dockyards. It wasn't until Alicent coughed that you were pulled back into reality. Tears sprung to your eyes you didn't know how they got there but you knew they came from a place of joy. Throwing yourself down at him your hands found their way to his cheeks, and you planted a firm kiss on Otto’s lips.

“You have yet to answer, Lady Lenia,” Otto murmured with a small smile.

Your answer came out in a jumbled mess of yesses.

He kissed you back with just as much fervour, pulling away from your lips for only a second to say, “I wished to propose underneath the apple tree, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” And then his lips found yours once again.

The next few days went by in a blur. You first went to your parent’s to tell them the good news. However, your father had already known as Otto asked for his permission. During the Hand’s journey, he was waiting just as anxiously as you. Your mother on the other hand, did not know, and was over the moon with joy. Though she did slap your father’s arm for not telling her.

“It was a surprise!” was his response.

Otto had never been this proud, not since the birth of his children. So, he gladly welcomed the congratulatory remarks and compliments. Although as he recounted the story, he did like to leave out the part where he was still sea-sick during the proposal.

Alicent too was happy. Not just happy for her father and future stepmother but also because the attention was no longer on her. King Viserys was more than jovial. Keeping this secret was difficult for him. Happy secrets were his downfall. He was so happy in fact, that he said, “there shall be no expense spared for this wedding,” and then the Master of Coin nearly choked on his wine.

Elrie was over the moon to be involved in another wedding. Darrick too, was ecstatic for you, the only person who was not was little Lucieth, who was sick of weddings.

And when you asked why, he blurted “because I HATE dressing up!”

Weeks had passed and the wedding plans were in full motion. Your mother was busy fussing over your dress with Sanah, who wanted to make it by hand. While your mother wanted you to wear her own wedding gown. And then you had family traditions to consider; every Branch woman wore some sort of homage to the House. May it be a leaf, a stem, a … branch, stitched in the gown, a piece of jewellery or make up. It was your choice to make.

The invitations soon went out as well.

Otto was quite particular with how he wanted them written, but you had the creative control. Both your House sigils were drawn, appearing on the corners of the parchment. A representation of your Houses bond.

Soon Branches from all over Westeros would soon be swarming the Capitol, giving a new feeling to King’s Landing. Your mother's side of the family were invited as well and although not as openly as creative as House Branch, they were well known for their musical abilities.

It had only been a month since your proposal and Sanah was becoming insufferable. In the best way. Once she heard the news, she apologised for her future actions, “I am going to be intolerable at times, but I just want this to be perfect for you.”

This was one of the most stressful times in your life, but … in such a positive way. Used to the spotlight, you didn’t mind the attention, especially the talk of the future with Otto.

“And you’ll give him even more children, hopefully more sons!” Said a lady at court, whose name you didn’t care to remember. The last part stung, and you frowned (for the first time in a month).

“Any child is a blessing,” you replied, trying to keep the bite out of your voice. “Girls have just as much to offer as boys do.”

It was a curt response, and it made you up and leave the room.

You could feel your teeth grinding and you had to remind yourself to stop. Now being the Hand’s future wife, you worried that every word you spoke could hurt his position somehow. But a topic such as this; you knew where you stood on the matter.

The castle’s hallways had become well-known to you. The smoothed edges of the stone walls, cold to the touch, with it’s sudden openings of light and sunshine. On days like this, it filtered through the open gaps, some paned, some completely open. One had to be careful with the latter, there were rumours that many had … fallen from those openings.

Resting your back against the cool of the wall, you sighed and massaged your temple. It was safe to say that in this period of your life, you felt frazzled. It didn’t help that you were on your periods and the cramps were quite terrible. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have them during your wedding. Maybe that was another question for Sanah…

Lost in thought, you didn’t register the form that had stopped to stand next to you.

“Having second thoughts?” Ormund’s deep voice made you jump, and in turn brought on a wave of embarrassment with a tinge of anger.

“Don’t sneak up on people like that! It’s … it’s rude.” You said breathlessly.

Ormund chuckled and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Well, I give my deepest apologies,” he said mockingly, bowing low. “I mustn’t upset the Hand’s wife.”

“Future, wife,” you corrected.

“Yes,” he said with faint sincerity, “future wife.”

-✶-

The interaction with Ormund left you somewhat confused, what was he trying to say? And why was there an establishment between wife and future wife? These words danced in your head until you came to your chamber doors and gleefully opened them.

Rising from the bed, Otto gave you a slight bow as you entered the room.

“Please excuse my boldness, but I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

His tone caused an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. A reddening of your cheeks as well.

“It’s, fine. I think we’re past the rules of formality.” And your mind instantly went to the nights spent with each other, naked, with body parts wrapped around one another. The thought made your blush deepen.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Otto’s tall frame seemed to tower over your own. You noted his neatly trimmed beard and brushed hair. But some part of you missed the adventure-met Otto.

He guided you over to your sitting area, hot tea waiting for you. The sun had begun to set, emitting rays of orange, pink and purple across the sky. A beautiful sight, but one that you gladly ignored. Your focus was utterly on Otto.

“I just wanted to have some time by ourselves,” he started, moving to take his hand in yours. “And to give you an opportunity to refuse the proposal.” His voice hardened at the end of the sentence, but when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was love.

“Why would I refuse?” You said aghast. “Have I shown any reason I wouldn’t want to marry?”

There was a long pause.

And questions flooded your head, swarming your stomach, making your body tingle with anxiety.

“No, you have not.”

His words gave you such relief that you let out a sigh. The breath that you had unknowingly held in was released and Otto actually saw the worries escape you.

“Then why? Why ask this?”

How could Otto explain this deep-rooted insecurity of not being enough. Being too old, too unliked, having a job that requires questionable morals. Having to lie to those he loves in favour of the King, or to keep important information from coming to light. To push for things that other people do not want nor agree with.

For Otto, it just goes deeper and deeper. More intricate that one could ever explain perfectly.

So, the only thing that he could come out with was, “I-I’m not enough. For you. You deserve better. Someone younger, at least.”

Your grip on his hand tightened, and you stared straight into his eyes, “I want to marry you Otto Hightower. I see the good, I see the bad; I see all of you. And I still want to marry you.”

The intensity in which you spoke felt foreign, as was the power that seemed to radiate from you. But in this moment it felt right. Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t as if Otto didn’t see your devotion. He did. And he admired it greatly. It’s one of the reasons why he loves you so dearly. His late wife had the same devout nature.

Any doubts he had for this marriage were based on himself; his own self-reservations. Truly, they had nothing to do with you. Not even your status, which had been brought up by the small council, didn’t make him think any less of you. He had stopped the slanderous talk immediately. Everyone knew not to talk ill of Lenia Branch in the presence of Otto Hightower. And it helped greatly that the King thought your family was brilliant. Your position at court was favoured, as were you. Your future, no matter what, was bright.

“I truly cannot explain how I feel inside. Only know this: there is nothing that can make me stop loving you.”

You seemed to move without realising it, because in an instant you were in his lap, one hand tangled in his hair and the other moving down his chest. Your lips were connected in such deep passion that you knew they would be bruised in a few hours.

Otto’s hands wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him. His mouth reciprocated the movements, biting your bottom lip, nipping at your tongue. Then he moved you, so your legs were either side of him. The position making it easier to rub your most sensitive parts against one another. Otto moaned, pushing you harder against himself, kissing down the nape of your neck and moving to your chest. He was about to unlace your bodice when a knock sounded at the door.

“J-just a moment!” You breathed out, doing your best to get off of Otto and fix yourself up. Standing there awkward for a moment, Otto motioned for you to sit down on your chair and take a sip of your now cold, tea.

“Enter,” you said after gulping. You realised Otto had brought over your favourite herbal blend.

“Oh, apologies,” said Darrick, whose eyes darted between you and Otto. You could see your brother conclude that you were alone with another man, but only having tea.

“How are you, Darrick?” Otto asked, in a completely neutral tone.

“Fine, thank you for asking,” Darrick bowed politely and then handed you a piece of rolled up parchment.

Departing quickly, you could see the tinge of red on his cheeks and you frowned. Although you realised that it wasn’t because of any indecency, but because of what he had brought you.

It was the finished wedding invitations, with your design and Otto’s words. Together in black ink with gold and silver accents made it look absolutely beautiful. You slid the paper over to Otto and he nodded his head in approval.

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑒𝑛.

Personalised story for @leniabranch Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lenia Branch Word Count: 2k Warning: Fluff, pure and insufferable fluff! Authors Note: If anyone wants a personalised story, here’s my PayPal and send me a message and we can get started!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔

Walking On Water by George Fenton

Valerie by the Midnite Quartet

“That’s not the way I heard it,” Sanah closed her mouth over the goblet and sipped. The mulled wine was sub-par, but she drank it anyway. Hells knew she needed the liquid courage. Her eyelids had been brushed with the slightest of colour, and red rouge on her high cheekbones. She looked stunning. Sanah stared out the window and sighed. The day turned spectacularly. For the harsh wind and pelting rain, had turned contentedly warm. But your younger sister barely noticed. Sanah was much too nervous. Her leg hadn’t stopped bouncing, even when you pointed it out, multiple times.

“And how exactly did you hear it?” You mused as the servant manoeuvred so she could stand behind Sanah. You too were holding a goblet of the same wine. It was a full-bodied red that had notes of black fruit and pepper spice.

You watched with flushed cheeks, as this had been your second cup and you were nearly finished, as the servant placed the pins in your sister’s hair. House Branch had many traditions, and one of them was twenty priceless pearls, each embedded onto a pin. They had been handed down to each woman, on her wedding day.

Sitting at the vanity table, Sanah’s reflection stared at you through the mirror, and she gave you a wink.

“I cannot give up my sources of information,” she said with red lips.

You playfully rolled your eyes in response.

A creak sounded from the other side of the room. The doors opened and two sets of feet were scampering towards you.

“No running!” Your mother called over her shoulder while closing the doors. You looked up and saw her in the most beautiful gown. Well, second to Sanah’s – Onatah looked radiant. Her gown swept the floor with graceful ease, and yet her face gave her true feelings away. Although nearly in her fifties, your mother looked as if she was part star. Her long brown hair had been braided over her shoulder, and the sleeves of the gown lingered just above the floor. You could see the golden thread of leaf detailing that Sanah had spent hours getting right. It was tedious, and with the wedding planning, she had been nearly intolerable.

“Sah-sah, Leni! Look!” your youngest sibling and second brother ran towards the two of you. His brown hair a curly mess, and his shirt was missing a button, the little Branch held something in his tiny hands.

“What have you got there, Lu?” Opening his hands, he showed the little creature with a proud smile.

“A mouse! He has a mouse!” Elrie started screaming. She was nearing the age of ten and had become accustomed to dramatics. Your mother sighed, lifted her skirts, and drifted over to Lucieth, who was still holding the brow mouse. Elrie, shoes on and all, had jumped on the bed, her howls never ceasing.

Sanah only laughed as she sat, so much so that she had to put her cup down. Her belly laughs made Lucieth confused, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Is only little?” he whispered, starting to pout. He had been forbidden to bring anything bigger than his hand size into the castle. Lucieth looked up at you with those big brown eyes and you melted. The youngest Branch was always finding animal friends. It was rare that his pockets were empty, or that he wasn’t being followed. On Lu’s third trip to the town markets, he befriended three stray cats and they followed him to the castle gates.

“Oh, Elrie stop it,” your mother huffed, sweat gathering at her brow. Onatah thought she was used to children, seeing as though she raised three almost perfectly good adults. But there seemed to be a rift, or jealousy from Elrie towards Lucieth, that appeared the day he was born. In the three, nearly four years, Elrie hadn’t gotten used to being a middle child. You could often find her with her arms crossed over her chest and face scrunched. Usually, because Lucieth was picked up first or tended to before she. It must be tough, you often thought.

-✶-

It had been years since the invasion of Dorne, and much had happened since then. Investigations and enquiries were made throughout King’s Landing. Many answers were found, and the most valuable of those had come to light. Grand Maester Runciter. The man who sat on King Viserys council had gotten too close with his student, Gelford Spyre. An ambitious young man who thought he could outwit the great Houses of Westeros. And he did. For three years he had been planning the infiltration of King’s Landing.

If it wasn’t for Daemon and Rhaenyra, the city would have been lost.

-✶-

In the corridor before the closed doors, you looked at your sister. The sunlight filtered through the open windows, creating slices of warmth. Sanah turned to you with her bright eyes and gave you a slight smile. You knew exactly what she was thinking. Who would have thought? You did. You knew she would be married one day, to a man who deserved her. Who would do anything for her. And you knew Ormund would.

You could hear the band take up the bridal tune, and your mother fluttered about your sister, preening and smoothing.

“Mama, please,” Sanah groaned, trying to bat away your mother’s insistent hands.

Lucieth and Elrie were standing at the front doors, their hands clasping tight to the petal basket. Neither were nervous, as they knew only family were on the other side of the door. Both Sanah and Ormund didn’t want a grand affair, even though King Viserys was adamant that he would pay for everything, and anything they desired. Ormund was the hero of King’s Landing, the one who freed both the King and the guards.

But in the fashion that was both your sister and her fiancé, they denied any glamour or attention. And yet, the Houses of Hightower and Branch filled the hall. As did King Viserys, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Alicent. Along with Aegon, who was now nearing his fourth year.

Sanah’s, and your own bouquets were the same. Flowers of peony, baby’s breath, and light pink carnations were wrapped together in a munch with silver ribbon. The same ribbon had been braided into your own hair and carefully twisted so it hung down your back.

Suddenly, Kormiel appeared with a large grin on his bearded face.

“Daughter!” He bellowed, loudly too, as he didn’t care in the slightest if the guests heard. Kormiel was a proud father. The first of his children to be married. He looked upon his third-born child with so much joy that tears brimmed his eyes. There was a change in Sanah then, and only someone as close as a sister could see it. Her back was straighter and her hands had stopped fiddling.

“Papa,” she replied, with a dimpled grin. Her blonde hair looked so golden, compared to Kormiel’s white hair. He had aged in the past years, but his personality hadn’t.

Darick stood behind his father, a carnation pinned to his jacket. He had been pulled to one knee as Lu showed him the brown mouse. No one had taken it off of the little Branch, as Sanah insisted the creature be a part of the wedding party.

“Lu!” Your mother groaned, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Elrie let out a little giggle as Darick poked her in the stomach. She had grown to adore her older brother these past years.

You laughed, unable to stop yourself. Your heart felt warm and full. This was a day you never wanted to forget, you wished you could take a part of this moment and carry it with you forever. Oh, how you loved your family, and the way your father’s shoulders bounced up and down when he laughed. How your mother shook her head with a slight smile, how Sanah gave you knowing looks, always able to read your mind. And Darick’s good heart, Elrie’s hopefulness and Lu’s love for creatures, big and small. How lucky am I, to have been born into this House, you thought. A contented smile growing on your lips.

-✶-

“Ready?”

Sanah looped her arm between both her father’s and mother’s. Your sister was a woman who broke tradition, and now she did so without hesitation. You and Darick looked at each other, he stood in front of you, holding the rings. Behind you, you could hear your parent’s soft bickering. Looking behind, you shushed them, just as the doors opened.

Like a wave, the guests stood to attention. The music sounded and the two youngest Branches took their cue. The petals littered the floor with white and cream, as the wedding party walked. The guests cooed and awed, as the children flung fistfuls of the petals into the air. They were without strategy, and got most of it on Darick, tried to step out of the firing line.

You were used to people’s eyes upon you, but it never got easier. You were glad the dress was long, as you thought your knees were shaking. But your nerves seemed to get better and then a whole lot worse, as you spotted him in the crowd. The ghost of a smile was upon his lips, as he watched you intently. Gone were the days of meek, stolen glances. Otto Hightower looked at you with an unmet need.

The guests tried to hide their shock as Sanah walked down the aisle with both her parents to give her away. Some had their thoughts written plainly on their faces; aghast. You did all you could not to roll your eyes. Both parents were important in their child’s life. Equal caregivers, so why should one do the honour of helping their child step into a new era of their life?

You took your place opposite Ormund. He was standing there with his hands behind his back and the most un-Ormund-like expression on his face. The groom wore Hightower colours, with hints of black and pale green, as were the colours of House Branch. Ormund was doing his best to stay still, you could see that. But he couldn’t see anyone but Sanah.

Ormund’s eldest brother, Hobert, stood next to Otto with pursed lips and flared nostrils. Well, you’re in it now Hobey, you thought, nearly giggling. God, that wine had gotten to you. Your attention turned to your sister as they reached the dais, where the Grand Maester stood. Neither Ormund nor your sister wanted a religious figure to wed them, as neither believed in religion. You couldn’t blame them.

No one stood next to Ormund, and soon, neither did Sanah. You kissed your sister, took her flowers, and sat beside your mother and brother.

You took in the details of the Great Hall. Viserys had paid for all the flowers, as hundreds of them had been twisted around the pillars. All windows were opened to let in the natural light, creating a warm haze. The musicians had stopped their playing as the Grand Maester began.

-✶-

The ceremony was over, and the reception was in full swing. The Branch musicians, and your mother, began a hearty tune. People got up from their seats and began to dance. Most of the dancefloor occupants were Branches, as the Hightowers hadn’t drunk enough to let loose. Ormund was swinging Sanah about, laughing without caution.

You felt someone stand next to you and you looked up. Otto stared at you with a humble grin, as he often did. Your relationship was complicated. The feelings were still there, and since delivering his grandson all those years ago, he had been upfront with how he felt.

Now it felt like a dance. A game. Cat and mouse.

“You look beautiful,” he uttered, handing you a full goblet of wine.

You took it and thanked him. You brought the cup to your lips and drank deeply. The contents not helping the growing heat at your core.

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