#robert baratheon fanfic

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

The Most Impossible Battle

Pairing: Young Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: soft dubcon, NSFW, gradual consent, rough sex

Words: 3020

Summary: Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

By the Gods Robert, have mercy on the girl.” Ned pleaded but was immediately shut up by Robert’s roaring voice.

“Mercy?! MERCY?! Did that Targaryen whore’s brother show your sister mercy when he raped her?!! The Targaryen don’t deserve mercy Ned!” Young and callous, Robert Baratheon’s beautiful blue eyes were now tainted with his fury and anger. He stood a few inches higher above the his Stark brother. Even with that fact, Ned refused to stand down on the matter.

With a stone face, he goes on “Her brother is to blame. She has done nothing wrong.”

That made Robert scoff. “Except let the others escape. She’s fully aware of her family’s guilt. Have you so quickly forgotten what her father had done to your brother and father? The whole family is taint and should be eradicated.”

Yes, young (y/n) Targaryen had made sure her younger siblings were well out of harms way. At the moment she had been captured she had sent her younger brother Viserys and newborn sister Daenerys away on a cargo ship. To where, she refused to say. Brave, Ned admired that much about the girl. In that moment he was reminded so much of Lyanna. Brave, beautiful and stubborn.

Ned couldn’t let Robert execute her. He didn’t want anymore blood shed thanks to this stupid war.

He gives Jon Arryn a sideways glance, asking for his help. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, purses his lips together for a moment. “Think rationally Robert.” The older man did always have a way in reining him in. Both men viewed him as a surrogate father and in that aspect resonated a great deal of respect. “Even though there were a great deal of people who hated Aerys, there an even greater many who loved Rhaegar and (y/n). Those supporters are already upset at the death of Rhaegar, as deserving as it was. But (y/n)? She’s but a sweet maid who has done nothing. Those families might do something hasty if you were to execute her.”

“Then I’ll kill them. I’m king now and if a see someone that isn’t obedient I can surely have them executed. The whole lot of those Targaryen loving scum.” Spitting he stomps over to a large window to look over his new dominion of King’s Landing. Hands splayed on the windowsill he glares out over the city.

“Be reasonable Robert.” Jon tries again. “That will just earn you more resentment from the people you now govern. Otherwise you’d be just like Aerys.”

That made Robert’s broad shoulders go rigid. The last thing he wanted was to be compared to the Targaryen king. No, he didn’t want to be anything like Aerys. “Then what do you suggest I do with the girl?”

The room was quiet for a moment, as if Jon was afraid to even say the solution. One encouraging look from Ned gave him the strength he needed. “Marry her.”

Ned gaped at the Arryn lord, he hadn’t been expecting that as a solution.

Robert spun on his heel, dark mane of hair flying as he did so. “Marry her? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Not as much as you have.” Jon speaks truthfully, staring down the young man who used to be his ward. “Think about it Robert. If you marry her, then those who still support the Targaryens will have no choice but to support you. She’s well loved among the people. That would give you good reception, having her as your bride.”

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrow. “No. Never. I will never marry her. It would be a disgrace upon the memory of Lyanna. Lyanna was who I was supposed to marry. And now because of that Targaryen bastard, she’s dead.”

“What’s done is done Robert. You cannot turn back time. But you can attempt to move on.” He tries to sound a little sympathetic. Robert had been deeply in love with Lyanna, but even Jon Arryn knew that his love only ran so deep. It hadn’t stopped Robert from sleeping with dozens of other women.

Sighing, Ned places a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “He’s right. You’re king now. You must do things that you don’t necessarily want to do. Keeping the peace by marrying her… It needs to be done Robert. There is still unrest all throughout Westeros. Her father and brother may have been bastards, but she was beloved by all the realms. It would do you good.”

“Damn you Ned. Damn you and your sensible words.”

*

Were they okay? You hoped Viserys didn’t lose his temper with the newborn Daenerys.

Your fingers made circles in the dirt that you called your bed.

They should be safely out in the open water. People would have a hard time finding that ship.

Fear and worry and the echo of Viserys pleading with you to go with them. But there wasn’t any time. Not for you at least. You had to delay Robert’s soldiers. That was the only way that the ship would be able to leave the port in time. Daenerys’ shrill cries still haunted you as you stared at the walls of your cell. You never thought in a million years that you would wind up there, in the dungeons of your ancestors.

You didn’t know what would be worse, you rotting away in the dungeon or Robert Baratheon having you executed. You understood why all this had happened, you weren’t that much of a naive girl. True you had been sheltered most of your life, you knew how the world worked. Your brother had been a fool. It was his fault for stealing the Stark girl although you didn’t believe one bit that he had raped her. That was not in Rhaegar’s nature. Neither was war. Now you were paying for the price of it. You knew that if the soldiers had caught Viserys he would have been as good as dead. He posed a threat to the usurper as now being the next in line for the Iron Throne. The last male heir of Aerys. What would your fate be?

You hadn’t anticipated marriage being an option.

Guards had dragged you out of your cell, filthy and stumbling as your eyes tried to adjust to the bright light that suddenly blinded you. You were lead to the reception hall that was once filled with the skulls of your family’s dragons. There in the back, commanding authority was the Iron Throne. On it now sat an imposing Robert Baratheon. It was an odd sight for you, seeing a man that wasn’t your insane father on the throne. One that lacked the Targaryen violet eyes and snow white hair. Robert’s thick hair clashed against your own; violently dark opposed to your gentle silver tresses. He looked every part of king, much more than your father did. During the last few years, Aerys’ body had begun to deteriorate greatly as his body thinned and became frail. Not Robert. His body was taught with muscle, ready to strike. His thick beard betrayed his young age, making him look so much more older than you knew he was. The new King of Westeros.

You had thought you were there to hear your death sentence. What came out of the stag king’s mouth nearly made you lose balance.

“I will take you as my queen. You have no say in the matter and will act accordingly unless you want to meet the same fate as your brother and father.” Stating with no compassion in his heart, rich blue eyes glare at you. “It seems fitting since he took my bride away.”

Opening your mouth you realize you didn’t know what to say. Surely you could oppose but what would that do to help you? From his voice it was clear that the last thing he wanted to do was marry you. The feeling was very much mutual. Even though your brother had been an idiot and had been in the wrong, you still hated Robert for killing him. You realized you might want death rather than this. To have to bed the man that killed Rhaegar… It made you sick. Rhaegar was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Dozens of memories resurfaced that nearly had you weeping.

“I… I am to be your bride?” The words were laced with venom. “A usurper’s queen?”

If he hadn’t been perched on the throne you knew he would’ve slapped you. Instead you noticed the subtle whitening of his knuckles as he gripped at the throne. “Watch your tongue, whore. You should be grateful that I don’t crush your skull in with my hammer.”

Dragon fire flushed your face. “I would rather you do that than subject me than your disease ridden cock.”

There was a collective gasp in the hall. A beloved princess you were, but that didn’t mean you let people step over you. You were blood of the dragon after all.

“Your grace,” broke in a voice next to you. A solemn looking man took to your side. The sigil of a direwolf displayed proudly on his vest. “Please, I know this must be difficult for you but it is the best course of action for you to take. You’ll still have your life and your people.”

“And what of my respect? My dignity? I lose all that to the Baratheon usurper.”

In a more hushed tone, the young Stark lord bends a bit to whisper in your ear. “I promise to you, if you go through with this I’ll make sure your siblings remain safe. To the old Gods and the new, I swear that they won’t be harmed.”

You soften. The Starks kept good to their word, everyone knew that. How could you say no when it ensured the safety of your siblings?

“Okay… Okay.”

*

By the Gods she was beautiful. Disgustingly beautiful with her Targaryen traits. Robert hated it. Hated her and her entire family. But he couldn’t deny her beauty. Especially when she stood there in front of him, her Targaryen cloak around her shoulders about to be replaced by the Baratheon yellow and black. She looked every bit a queen should. Full pouting lips, dark eyelashes that kissed at her cheeks when she fluttered her eyelids. The trail of her neck that led down to a prominent collar bone (probably from having been denied food for days).

It should have been Lyanna there in her place. Jon Arryn was right in one thing though, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t dream of mending the past. Nothing would bring Lyanna back to him. Robert would take Rhaegar’s sister as retribution; watch the fallen prince turn in his grave as he married her.

Robert couldn’t deny his immense attraction to her though. More so now that she stood in front of them in their wedding chambers. The Bedding Ceremony was about to commence. Violet eyes hold onto blue as she stands her ground.

“Turn around.” He growls out. “I don’t want to look at your face.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” She hisses back and turns around. Her silver hair had been done so meticulously in luscious braids and curls that even Robert couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hair. Catching himself, he gives it a good yank making her suck in breath at the pain. His other hand goes to the laces on the back of her dress, easily ripping them to reveal her flawless, bare, back. Such beautiful skin. Robert’s fingers glide along her back before tearing off the rest of her dress so that it pooled around her feet. (y/n) continues to stand tall with her back straight. Grabbing the back of her neck, Robert bends her over the bed so that her face was pressed into the mattress; her small hands curled tightly into the silken bedsheets. Preparing for whatever Robert had planned for her. Surely she must know what he would do. Treat her as harshly as Rhaegar must have treated Lyanna. His thick thigh pushes her legs apart and Robert nearly sighs at the sight. The sight of her exposed and bent over was enough for him to salivate over. What a beautiful cunt she had. Possibly the most beautiful he had seen. He wanted to run his tongue along her slit and taste her.

(y/n) struggled slightly to move her face into a better position for her to breathe. As she did so she unconsciously wiggled her ass, an ass that begged for a smack.

That’s just what he did. Reeling his hand back and smacking her ass. “Stay still.” A vivid red handprint starts to bloom on her rear. His large hand grabs her pussy and with his fingers spreads her lower lips apart in preparation for his cock. He was a little bit too excited to fuck her. He shouldn’t have felt the thrill of it rush through him. In the end he was just as weak as any other man. As much as he wanted to be rough, he also wanted to enjoy it. Ever so slowly he pushes his cock inside of her inch by inch. Each slow movement of him entering her made (y/n) tremble and dare he say, even moan a little bit. Finally he was completely sheathed inside of her. Robert let his head roll back, eyes closing at the sublime feeling of her wonderful cunt. It was unlike anything else he had felt before. And he had fucked many maidens. Many virgins as well. None had felt quite so good though. His pace was slow at first, enjoying each contraction her cunt made as he slid his cock in and out. Using his hands, he tilted her hips up even more and hitting the right place, (y/n) lets out a shaky moan. It made him pick up the pace and pound into her. The sound of his pelvis smacking against her ass as he went balls deep into her was maddening.

“Fuck.” His deep voice groans out. He wanted to see her face. Wanted to see her tits as he fucked her senselessly. With such ease he flips her onto her back. (y/n)’s face was incredibly red now that she faced him. She was trying to glare at him but once Robert slid back into her, her eyes rolled back into her head. Crying out as he rammed into her over and over again, so much so that it made her tits bounce. Robert wraps his fingers around her slender neck putting the slightest pressure; tightening his grip little by little.

*

Fuck

Fuck

FUCK

It was becoming hard to breathe but that was the least of your worries. The sight of Robert, his barrel chest and taught abs fucking you was too much to bear. Hard lines of his muscles twitching as he tightened his fingers around your neck.

Why did it feel so good? He was basically fucking you like a whore. You were a pureblood Targaryen and deserved better. But you found yourself enjoying his harsh treatment. You wanted him to get rougher. You wanted him to pound harder into you so that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Head becoming light and warm, something else was happening. You felt a tightening below. The more he fucked you, the tighter the coil seemed to get until…

No. You didn’t want to be the first one to come undone. You didn’t want him to know that you were actually enjoying it. At the rate he was going though it was only a matter of time.

To take back control you launched yourself at him, catching him by surprise and his hand releasing from your neck. With your surprise attack you wrestle him so that he was now the one under you on the bed. His cheeks are red, eyes hard as he regards you with question. His about to protest until you sit yourself down on his cock. Protest devolving into a groan he lets his head fall onto the mattress as you roll your hips. You place your hands on his hard chest. Bobbing up and down his cock you try to ignore your cunt begging for release. Curling your fingers, you dig your nails into his chest and drag them harshly down. His face scrunches up, baring his teeth and hissing. Hands reaching around you to grab at your ass, he pulls you quickly up and down. You wouldn’t allow him to be in control for too long though. Again you dig your nails and drag them. Robert releases your ass and glares up at you. Beautiful blue eyes. Your own little hands reach to his thick neck and tighten like claws of a hawk. Using that as support you lift yourself off of his engorged member and start to tease the head of his cock. Slowly, torturously slow, you barely sit down enough for the head to be sheathed before coming back up. Your husband growls impatiently, wanting you to go back to riding his cock. You’re just buying yourself more time and shortening his. That’s when you sit all the way down on his cock. His mouth gapes open as you ride him. His breathing become hard, his hips desperately thrusting to match you.

You feel his body lock up underneath you as he lets out a loud groan.

The two of you were frozen in that position, trying to regain your breath. You had won. At least this battle. A bit unsteadily you lift yourself off of him; something warm and wet dribbling out. Smuggly you lay down beside him and stare at the ceiling, the space between your legs upset with you that you denied yourself your own orgasm.

“Well fuck.” Robert pants. Lazily he turns his head. “You didn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t dare grant you that satisfaction.” You roll away from him and onto your side.

Determined to prove you wrong, Robert’s hand lands on your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. “Fuck that noise. I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’ll see stars.”

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[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones x reader #games of thrones fanfiction #rorymccann #sandor clegane smut #sandor the hound clegane #prince joffrey #robert baratheon #reader baratheon

[arcaneniffler]

The feminine urge to write a women-centric canon compliant fanfic about Robert Baratheon’s rebellion showcasing how men will use anything as an excuse to start a war and then blaming women for it.

#if i have more free time i might actually do this #i have to do lots of reserach tho #women deserve better #asoiaf #robert baratheon’s rebellion #elia martell #lyanna stark #game of thrones #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf fanfic

[ayowotsdis]

Some more memes from my asoiaf fanfic which I have no inspiration to write

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #asoif/got #asioaf #asoiaf fanfic #ned stark #jaime lannister #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #stannis baratheon #elia martell #ashara dayne #lyanna stark #asoiaf meme

[xxpeppermintxx109]

the dance of dragons | robert’s rebellion

#thedanceofdragonswip #xxpeppermintx109 #roberts rebellion #the dance of dragons #rhaenyra ii targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #jaime lannister #lyanna stark #robert baratheon #fanfic #ao3 #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #fanfic edit #oc #a song of ice and fire #fanfiction

[blumenflowergelb]

Even after death our paths cross

Jaime Lannister x male!reader

• They spent the last day together drinking and talking. The cold never truly left, the sight of the sun was only in their dreams. The endless cold has been going on for weeks, the numbers and hopess of those who made it dwindled. The walk from Winterfell until the Gods Eye was hard and deadly. Most died, the children first than the women and lastly the men. The weak didn’t come, they were left behind in Winterfell with the last soldiers of the North so they could be burned upon death.

• Three days ago a scout reporter the wights coming down the neck, Moat Cailin has fallen and the survivors were caught up by the wights and the White Walkers. Yn could barely think about what happened to Winterfell and their occupants, the men and women and his nephew, Jon. Arya and Sansa came with Yn but left for the south, Bran and Rickon were behind the Wall and Yn was in the middle of the Gods Eye with the weirwoods and Jaime Lannister’s company. Their were some soldiers but most have left already to the South. The men and women who have stayed were either dying or could fight and decided to stay as the last defence. Because they were the last defence. If they failed Westeros, even the Free Cities could end.

• First the night came. It was always dark but dark like before nightfall and not this dark. They couldn’t even see Harrenhal, only the darkness. Then the cold came, the kind of cold which leaves you tired and you don’t even notice that you have fallen into an endless sleep. With the cold came the wind, and with it came the White Walkers and their servants. First they could hear feets walking on ice and the sounds of bones scrounging against each other. Than they saw the first wight and everything went downhill. The alcohol they consumed almost disappeared entirely and the last warmth fleed their bodies.

• The night was long and the hard. More died than they killed, some fled, but they hold out. The Children helped them with the Green Men on their sides, even Daenerys and Jon showed up. With them came hope again and they felt that maybe they would win. The slaughter was bloody and brutal, too much has been lost but when the King was killed the night lifted. The wights dropped dead and the remains of the White Walkers scattered around.

• Yn felt so weak, without Jaime and his family. He was sure that Jon went against a snow bear but not long after that Yn lost him and never seen him again. Jaime was dead, pulled apart by some dead crows, which made Yn hearth heavy as lead. He truly loved the man. Not the man he was before Lady Stonehearth but the man he became. Their love was a secret, a secret that Yn could never tell anybody.While Jaime has gotten his redemption it didn’t erase what he had done over the years. But Yn still loved him and felt like he could cry but he had no energy for tears. He went in and out of his dreams, sitting against a weirwood tree, and opened his eyes for the last time to see the new sun coming up.

• Then he opened his eyes again to see his old room in Winterfell. For a second he didn’t dare to move or even just exhale to loudly, he tried to listen to the soft voices around him. Feet scattering, the sound of swords, children laughing, a few wolves howling and somebody shouting ‚Uncle‘ at the top of his lungs. Then his door opened with a loud swish and Yn snapped out of his daydreaming. Rickon, baby Rickon with his small hands and feets and chubby face, run inside with Catelyn behind him shouting. Yn barely had any time to sit up, for Rickon jumped on him still shouting his name. Yn kissed his little face and looked up to the red faced Catelyn. She tried to apologize but Yn just shook his head and stood up with Rickon in his hands. After promising Catelyn that he will look after Rickon, Yn played with him while trying to get a hold of his situation. He was sure that he had died. The last years were definitely real, he couldn’t have dreamed about something like this. Besides he never took anything but alcohol to himself. Still the whole thing was unexplainable. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Rickons and his session was interrupted by a knock from Sansa. It was time for lunch so they went down and when Yn stepped in the room he couldn’t help but almost kneel over. Seeing his whole family well and alive was his biggest wish, a wish which got fulfilled. But it didn’t help his emotions. He wished to cry one second and laugh in the next.

• Yn tried to control himself and sat down. He barely ate, he got a side eye from Ned, and tried to talk as less as he could. Just listening made him happy and melancholic, his wish was fulfilled but he too has lost something along the way. After they were done and everybody went to their way, Ned has kindly left Yn alone, Yn wasn’t enterly sure what to do so he went to the library. He was reading about Daeron the First when he truly realised what had happened. The revelation left him shocked, his breath was labored and he felt cold and hot waves crashing through his body. He missed Jaime, he missed everything but at the same time not. He felt lonely because their was no other person who saw and lived through the wars and the coldness. This feeling left him breathless, the panic tightening his chest. His long forgotten , or just hidden?, memories resurfaced, from the day he left Storms End with an angered Young Griff to the past when he was playing with his brothers and sister in the deep cold snow, until red, blue and black spots begann to appear before his eyes. He felt somebody touching him and shaking him but it was his body that felt it, not him. And then he passed out.

• By the time he awoke it was dark. He was in his room and maester Luwin was busying around with Ned at his side. After they saw him wake they almost jumped to him and Luwin begann asking questions. Yn answered them but Luwin expressed his worry to Ned, talking as if Yn wasn’t here. They decided that Yn had to rest in bed for a fortnight and that he was to be daily examined by the maester. Luwin left, and Ned sat down. Neither of them talked for a long time until Ned said that he thought the worst. Yn was found in the library by Arya who has called for help the moment she saw her uncle looking like he was actively dying. When Ned asked Yn what had happened he couldn’t answer him. Yn only told him that he shouldn’t worry since he was too young to die. Ned shook his head and left the room.

• As he was alone Yn had time to process what was going on. He was found by Arya, the small little girl must have been affraid thought Yn, and later brought to his room. Maester Luwin suspected that he had wronged his hearth since his breath was erratic and his nose bleeded too much. He didn’t die but he was ordered on bedrest. But still this didn’t explain why he was here. Yn was sure that he died, seeing the First light of Dawn but than he woke up at Winterfell in his younger body. Yn tried to think about the how but the only sound idea he had were the Old Gods. He died by a weirwood on the Gods Eye so they must have seen him fit to travel back in time. Yn hoped that he wasn’t alone. Seeing his lost or dead family was a dream come true but that didn’t change the fact that he has lost people too. The people he had known and even lived with in the future didn’t even know him. Jaime didn’t know him. This relevation brought a bitter taste in Yn mouth. He didn’t wish to think about the man so he rolled to his side and tried closing his eyes. But dreams didn’t come. The whole fiasko bothered him and while turning around trying to sleep he accidentally hit his soulmark.

• He had his soulmark since birth, a rare thing since most people didn’t even have one, especially not since birth. He remembered his parents worrying about the age of his soulmate, affraid that his mate was old. Yn‘s father wished for Yn to marry a good southern noble woman with wide hips, but ironically his mate wasn’t a woman. Still his other wishes were fulfilled, maybe without the wide hips part. The fact was that as a child Yn always know that he would not marry a woman. He never said that to anybody too affraid of what could have happened but after Roberts Rebellion there was no need for it. His family was dead only Ned and Benjen survived. Of course there was Catelyn and the children but Yn always imagined his future with Brandon and Lyanna. After Ned came home and Benjen left, Yn decided that it was time for him to search for his mate. Thinking back this was more of an excuse to leave his life behind, but Yn was happy with his decision. He saw the side of the world which has been rarely seen by anybody. He experienced different people and their lifes, their foods and their different views. There is where Yn first realised why he never wanted women. He never found his soulmate but he found harmony. After a few years of sailing around he came back to Winterfell, happy to see Ned and his ever expanding family. He went on adventures but never as long as before, he always found his way back to Winterfell.

• When the War of Five Kings broke out he was on the way to Asshai and didn’t realise that his family has died only leaving Jon at the Nights Watch and Sansa at the clutched of the Lannisters. By the time he came back Sansa has already disappeared so Yn went on an adventure with Brienne of Tarth and her squire, who was not hers but Tyrion’s, and later on with Jaime too. They realised that they were soulmates by accident. Their were lingering touches but Yn thought that Jaime only wanted closure. He wasn’t right and when Jaime kissed him Yn‘s world changed. His soulmark burned and the love he felt for Jaime took his breath away. He wished and only wished to be by Jaimies side. They spent the nights together, always close but never truly touching. Yn tought that he had found his long awaited love but of course live wasn’t that nice. After the confrontation with Lady Stonehearth Yn left both Jaime and Brienne. He couldn’t find it in himself to see Jaime again. He still loved him, fierce as ever, but what he has done to his family was inexcusable. He couldn’t forgive him.

• They didn’t see each other until the Long Night has fallen. The people of the north left as quickly as possible only the fighter of the noble houses stayed. Some from the south came to help, including Jaime. The day before they left Winterfell they talked. It was hearth wrenching but needed. After discussing what had to be discussed they spent the night together. It wasn’t planed, Yn wholeheartedly thought that he and Jaime were not meant to be regardless their soulmark but Yn couldn’t bring himself to not do it. It was sweet and loving, a feeling which Jaime never associated with sex. They learned it together and enjoyed each other.

• But now Yn was alone without his soulmate. It was very bitter, the only thing Yn was happy about was that he at least know who his mate was. But just thinking about the way Ned or even Tywin Lannister would react to Jaime and Yn made him shiver. He couldn’t bare to think about Cersei, to affraid of a slighted narcissistic woman.

• The days have came and went until it was time for the Royal Familie‘s arrival. When Yn heard that they were coming, albeit a little late since their was a rumored accident on the way, he realised how stupid he was. He had the chance to save his family. He planed what he could do and started with Sansa and Jon. Yn know that Jon wanted to join the Nights Watch and he tried to talk him out of it at first but Jon didn’t take it well. Yn understood him, but he still tried to positively influence him. Sansa wasn’t an entire succes either since she lived for her stories. The only good thing he has done was mending Sansa‘s and Arya‘s relationship. Yn told them stories he had learned on his voyage about lovers and betrayal, trying to influence Sansa about critical thinking, and Arya has found this stories so intriguing that she listened to them too. The girls bonded through the stories and, while not entirely, they had a good relationship.

• The royal family came the same way they did the last time. They were a lot of them, the King was still fat, Joffrey still looked like a bitch but Jaime wasn’t the same. He looked the same at first glance but perhaps because Yn knew him like no other he noticed the difference instantly. Jaime was a little pale, his eyes weren’t that arrogant and he stood away from Cersei. The second he rode inside Winterfell their eyes locked and Jaime only looked away when he had to get off the horse. Seeing that Jaime clearly stayed away from Cersei left Yn feeling pleasant. Usually he wasn’t a jealous person but the bond the twins had shared, very disgusting in Yn opinion, made jealousy course through him. Both of them played with death throughout the years, and they even had children together. Yn couldn’t deny that Jaime did love Cersei even if it was a misplaced love.

• The King greeted the Starks the same as last time and went down to the crypts with Ned. Everybody dispersed after that, however Jaime didn’t go with Cersei. To escape the servants and their judgement, Yn signaled to Jaime and they went to the godswood. Yn was sure that nobody was there and he was right. It was silent, even the birds chirping wasn’t as loud. Yn sat down at the little creek and waited until Jaime came. Jaime stepped closer and after looking around he sat down. They didn’t talk for a few seconds but than Yn begann asking about their adventures in a subtle way. After Jaime answered every single question right, Yn kissed him. It was supposed to be an innocent kiss but Jaime deepened it and they only separated because of the lack of air. It was perfect. Yn felt his mark burn with satisfaction and love. Looking at Jaime he felt it too and Yn never has wished more to be just alone with Jaime. After dying and living in his past life with nobody at his side, Jaime felt like water on a hot sunny day. Yn needed him now more than ever before. They sat there for more time just holding each others hand until Jaime had to go to see the King. They separated with the promise of spending the night together.

• After a very interesting welcome feast for the royal family, in which Yn could experience how much Robert loved women and how much Cersei hated this love, Yn sneaked back in his room. He bathed while listening to the castle slowly settling. The sounds of the feast died out and only the occasional howls of the wolfs could be heard. Until Jaime knocked on the door and nothing mattered for Yn anymore. Jaime stepped in the room, smiling at Yn. They exchanged a few flirty remarks, Jaime sounded like usual, but then the two settled down to discuss what had happened. Yn got to know that yes Jaime did indeed got ripped apart by wights and that he came back weeks before Yn did. He had fallen ill shortly after that and Pycelle, Jaime hated him, had almost given up on him. Even Lord Tywin came to the capital after hearing his son, and heir, supposedly sickness. Jaime got better and than the date to leave for Winterfell has arrived. Jon still died, he couldn’t stop the Tully bitch Jaime said, so the journey for Neds hand has arrived. When Yn asked Jaime about Cersei he had only replied with bitterness. What Yn could puzzle together was that Cersei noticed Jaime‘s coldness and arrived at the conclusion that her handmaids have seduced him. The women were expelled but Jaime didn’t return to her so Cersei made up more stupid theories. After a while Cersei must have noticed that Jaime hasn’t changed so she became more aggressive and cold to Jaime. But he didn’t care and Cersei stayed as the spurned lover.

• After a while of talking they became silent. It was a lot to progress so they decided to continue tomorrow. But before they went to sleep Jaime shyly asked Yn if he would want to marry him. Yn just laughed and after remarking that Jaime was silly he said yes. The confirmation made Jaime‘s face light up with joy and they kissed. It almost progressed to something more but after hearing a door being closed to loudly they just went to sleep, affraid of anybody catching them.

• Yn woke up and said a very personal goodbye to Jaime, then went to play with Rickon and Bran. He felt a slight suspicion after seeing how bright Jaime‘s face was but quickly forgot it after seeing his family. Looking back he should have at least asked Jaime if he was alright but by the time they met it was already too late.

• Unknowingly to Yn, Jaime didn’t just go to the King to oversee his duties. After confirming that the King has drank and fucked last night until the morning he felt that it was the perfect time to do what he had to do. He knocked on the door and received no answer so he went inside and woke the King and his yesterdays choice up. The girl quickly ran out and the King awoke with a great rumble. Robert shouted profanities at Jaime but he just simply smiled back at him and said: „ I am retiring. Your grace.“

• Silence followed the statement. Robert stared at Jaime for a second and laid back on his bed muttering that he was still asleep. Jaime simply replied with a no and the King sprung up and begann shouting so loud that Barristan Selmy barged in the room. Seeing that the King was standing naked in the room while shouting at Jaime, he turned to the man in question and paled at seeing Jaime smile at him. The smile was strange to him, Selmy never saw him smile with so much joy. He tried to clear the situation up but did not succeed. Some servants stood behind the open door, glancing at them some even giggled. This ongoing problem wasn’t solved until Ned stepped in. He looked around the room silently, but judgingly. Seeing Ned Robert tried to hold his anger in but his red face was a tell tale sign of his feelings. Jaime and Selmy were standing silently before the King, although Barristan was before Jaime. Before Ned could ask what had happened the King huffed and looked for his breeches. He tried to kick everybody but Ned out but Jaime went up to Ned and asked for his brothers hand in marriage. Only a gasp was heard from outside before Ned jumped on Jaime.

• Yn was playing something, he still didn’t understand what the game was, with the boys when they were interrupted by an erratic Sansa. She asked Yn to go to Ned‘s solar, so he went. When he stepped inside the solar he was greeted with a furious Ned, an even angrier Robert, a stone face Barristan Selmy and a cheeky Jaime with a red mark on his face. Yn was surprised to see the hand mark on Jaime‘s face, sure that it was not there the last time they saw each other. Regardless the hit Jaime seemed pretty happy. Well he was the only one in the room who had a high spirit, Yn couldn’t decide who was the angriest. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Ned went to him and asked him if it was true. Seeing Yn confused face Ser Selmy explained what had happened in the last hour, from Jaime wanting to retire to Ned and Jaime fighting. By the end of the story everybody was looking at him, but Yn only sent a deathly stare at Jaime. When Ned asked again he nodded and told him that Jaime and he were soulmates. Ned paled, the King paled, even Baristan looked strange. Only Jaime looked like a child who got those rare candies from the Summer Isles. Jaime quickly stood up and went to the door, not before saying that he will discuss the wedding details with Lady Catelyn. At his words Yn felt his knees get weak but he ran after Jaime who almost disappeared in the corridor.

• They were gettin married. While the law and the Seven didn’t permit men marrying each other, the law of soulmates did allow soulmates of any kind to share a bed and life. Usually same sex soulmates were seen as unnatural and were recorded in history as best of best friends who were very very close but as friends and not as spouses. Only society saw same sex marriage as an issue, and there was rarely anybody of high society who went against these unsaid laws. But Jaime and Yn. They got married under the hearthtree of Winterfell, where hundreds of Starks have married before, with the happy Stark family on Yn side and the happy Tyrion on Jaime‘s. Cersei didn’t bother showing up and wouldn’t have allowed her children, but Robert wanted their attendances. The sudden wedding, and of the same sex, meant that only house Baratheon and Lannister attended from the south and some lords of the North. Yn was sure that Jaime only wanted to be quick about the wedding so that his father couldn’t say anything, since the ravens they sent out were still definitely on their way to the South.

• The ceremony itself was small but beautiful. The lords who attended behaved and were happy to eat and drink, the Royal Family itself wasn’t that happy. Robert was angry and bitter about Jaime leaving the Kings Guard but since the law of soulmates was even above the King he couldn’t do anything. Tyrion was happy but clearly confused what his brother was doing by a northerner side and Cersei was fuming. Yn often jokes that he will be poisoned but maybe there were some truths. The children of Cersei didn’t understand what was going on but the two youngest seemed content. Joffrey only attended because of Robert but whenever he looked up from his food his eyes were full of venom. Jaime and Yn enjoyed the wedding and were happy to spend their life together, they could forget about the future for one night.

• After a week the court has decided to venture back to Kings Landing, this time with Bran, Jon and Yn on their side. Jaime‘s plan has worked and he had caught Bran from falling down the Tower, and Bran has sworn to never ever go alone climbing after seeing his mother cry her hearth out. Yn wasn’t sure how long his promise would last but Jaime has taken him as an unofficial squire, alongside Jon who was very happy to bask in Jaime‘s presence. They were working with Jaime from morning till nightfall, never having free time although neither complained. Yn spent his time with the girls. Their bond got better but not perfect so Yn tried to mend it. Both Yn and Jaime felt ready for their future in Kings Landing, happy that they would be together through the hardships, like facing the whole court with all their lords. But they still had a lot to plan!

#game of thrones #asoiaf #soulmates #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #robert baratheon #ned stark #stark reader #male reader #x male reader #fanfic #got #time travel #alternative timeline

[aegon6targaryen]

AO3 - Of Kings and Bastards - 2

And here, the next images are coming right away. This time, it's going to be "real" characters. Haha. Jon Snow:

As you can see, it's sometimes not easy for Midjourney not to reference the actors having played the character in Game of Thrones, Kit Harrington in this case, but I still think he looks amazing. :-)

Arya Stark:

And here we have Midjourney's known six-finger-problem. Still, I think she looks gorgeous, doesn't she?

Lyanna Baratheon/Stark:

Robert Baratheon:

Again, the fingers aren't quite right on his right hand, but... well, I don't really care in this case. Also, I told Midjourney to have him hold a cup of wine instead of... what is that even? A book? Not really Robert-Baratheon-like to read books. Haha. So MJ got that wrong, but I just love the rest. :-)

#a song of ice and fire #midjourney #ao3 #fantasy #game of thrones #fanfic #lyanna stark #arya stark #jon snow #robert baratheon #ai art #archive of our own

[sunsetstarrogue]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter Three

Other Chapters - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18)

Characters - Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Rhaegar) x Robert Baratheon (political)

Summary - Rhaegar's life is spared by the valiant intervention of Arthur Dayne, moments before Robert deals the fatal blow. With their lives preserved, Rhaegar and the remaining Targaryens seek refuge on Dragonstone, eventually making their escape to Essos. Regrettably, Rhaegar is forced to leave his eldest daughter behind.

Left in the midst of her adversaries, Rhaenys grows up surrounded by those who view her as an enemy. As time passes, she becomes entangled in the treacherous game of thrones, particularly in the aftermath of Cersei and Jaime Lannister's public execution for their incestuous relationship.

Caught in a web of schemes and deceit, Rhaenys finds herself compelled to employ similar tactics in order to ensure her own survival.

Word Count - 8.1k

With two moons passing since Robert Baratheon claimed her maidenhood, Rhaenys found herself on the precipice of a destined marriage to the very man who had taken her virtue. The way events had unfolded filled her with a surprising contentment. In the aftermath of that fateful night, she had braced herself for the king's rejection, or worse, a swift exile to Winterfell. However, the tapestry of fate had been woven with a different thread. Rather than casting her aside, Robert sought her company, seeking her out in a manner that both perplexed and intrigued her.

To her astonishment, the king extended his favor even beyond the confines of his chambers. He granted her permission to accompany him on a hunting expedition, disregarding the fact that her name day had long since passed. It was an unexpected gesture, an invitation into his world of masculine pursuits. In an act of peculiar intimacy, he took it upon himself to teach her the art of the crossbow, despite her lack of interest in such weaponry. The lessons became a strange dance of their connection, a delicate balance of power and submission.

For Rhaenys, the woodland escapades were a tumultuous experience. The harsh reality of the outdoors clashed with her refined sensibilities. The earth beneath her feet transformed into a treacherous labyrinth, where each step threatened to ensnare her in the clutches of sticky mud. As they ventured deeper into the wilderness, a chorus of crows perched on gnarled branches seemed to fixate their gaze solely on her, their dark eyes penetrating her very soul. It was as if the forest itself conspired to unsettle her, to test her resilience.

Yet, despite her disdain for the rustic surroundings, Rhaenys understood the significance of these endeavors. She grasped the necessity of preserving Robert's interest, of nurturing the fragile connection they shared. These outings into the wild became her offering, a display of loyalty and devotion. She would endure the discomfort and the watchful audience, for she knew that denying the king's desires would only lead to her own undoing.

Little did she know that her compliance held greater implications. The risk of bearing Robert's child before marriage loomed over her like a shadow, filling her with both trepidation and a fierce determination. The expectations that weighed upon her fragile shoulders threatened to shatter her resolve. Yet, a profound understanding took root within her. She recognized that this daring gamble held the power to unravel the carefully crafted plans her uncle and Jon Arryn had woven, plans that entangled her fate with that of Robb Stark, the heir of Winterfell.

And so, she ventured forth, driven by a mix of calculated strategy and the yearning for a future not dictated by the whims of others. The tumultuous path she embarked upon was rife with uncertainty, but in the depths of her being, Rhaenys felt a glimmer of hope.

In the end Rhaenys' audacious gamble bore fruit, forever altering the course of her destiny. The revelation that the very king who harbored a deep-seated enmity towards her late father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had chosen her as his bride sent shockwaves rippling through the realm. The memory of the disapproving gaze Jon Arryn cast upon his foster son and the subtle twitch of Ser Barristan Selmy's hand upon hearing the dark-haired king's proclamation is etched vividly in Rhaenys' mind.

The news of the impending union between the Targaryen princess and the mighty Baratheon ruler spread like wildfire, carrying whispers and gasps from the taverns of King's Landing to the far reaches of the kingdom. The ravens traversed the skies, swiftly relaying tidings across the narrow sea, where even Essos trembled in awe of the monumental alliance taking shape. Amidst the flurry of gossip and speculation, a letter arrived, bearing the seal of House Martell, from Rhaenys' uncle, Prince Doran. It was a missive of congratulations, a tribute to her impending marriage to the king. However, her emotions conflicted and her heart heavy with unspoken truths, Rhaenys wanted nothing more than to toss the letter to the flames, its words devoured by the flickering tongues of fire.

Though her desires urged her to remain silent, Rhaenys understood that the weight of her new role as queen of the Seven Kingdoms demanded a different response. Obligated to act in accordance with her newfound station, she composed a letter, its tone meticulously crafted, extending gratitude to her uncle for his well-wishes. The inked words flowed like a river, concealing the underlying turmoil that surged within her. The truth of her emotions remained locked away, concealed beneath the facade of duty and obligation, as she traversed the treacherous path set before her.

Contrary to Rhaenys' apprehensions, the repercussions of the royal announcement proved to be less tumultuous than she had envisioned. Although a flicker of outrage coursed through the corridors of power, predominantly from the ladies of the court who had harbored ambitions of seducing the king and ascending to the throne themselves, the response was surprisingly subdued.

The silence that enveloped her previous betrothed and his kin was deafening, leaving Rhaenys to ponder the mysteries of their restrained reaction.

In her mind, she had braced herself for an onslaught of fury and indignation from the North. She had envisioned a horde of irate men from the cold lands descending upon King's Landing, their voices raised in righteous anger, invoking oaths and honor as battle cries. Yet, to her astonishment, the anticipated storm never materialized. The gates of the capital remained devoid of the thunderous clamor of northern warriors.

Instead, there was but a solitary letter that found its way into Rhaenys' hands, a letter bearing the distinctive mark of House Stark. Its contents remained a mystery, yet its mere existence spoke volumes. It stood as a testament to the restrained dignity of the North, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that coursed through Rhaenys' veins. She held the parchment delicately, her fingers tracing the sigil of the direwolf, while her heart fluttered with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

The delicate parchment, adorned with the regal emblem of House Stark, seemed to shimmer in Rhaenys's hands as she gingerly unfolded the missive. Her eyes traced the elegantly penned words, each stroke of ink seemingly etching itself into her memory.

"Princess Rhaenys,

I extend my sincerest congratulations to you and his Grace on your betrothal. It is with a heavy heart that I acknowledge the end of our intended union. I had held visions of you becoming my cherished daughter, a beacon of grace and strength within the walls of Winterfell. Alas, destiny has woven a different path for you. Nonetheless, I have no doubt that the king, in all his prowess, shall prove to be a worthy husband, while you, my princess, shall undoubtedly shine as a paragon of queenship.

Know this, dear Rhaenys, that Winterfell shall forever hold a place for you within its hallowed halls. As long as I draw breath, your presence shall be welcomed and cherished.

Yours faithfully,

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell"

Her expectations of the letters' contents were swiftly dismantled, replaced instead by an unexpected sense of solace. The words written by the Warden of the North brought forth an unusual comfort, assuaging the lingering doubts that had plagued her troubled mind.

She had braced herself for the sting of resentment, for a torrent of scornful words that would punctuate the rupture of their intended union. Yet, the absence of hatred within Lord Stark's letter was like a balm for her weary soul. In a realm consumed by politicking and shifting loyalties, the knowledge that she was not held in contempt by the mighty Lord of Winterfell breathed a glimmer of peace into her troubled thoughts.

Ever since Robert's proclamation of their betrothal, worry had etched deep furrows upon Rhaenys' brow. Her mind was consumed by an array of concerns, each one gnawing at her peace of mind. Chief among them was the life within her, the growing seed of Robert's lineage that took root in her womb. Her prayers, whispered fervently on that fateful night when she first shared a bed with the king, had seemingly been answered. Yet, with each passing day, the fear of her pregnancy becoming apparent before she and Robert were wed cast a shadow over her.

The weight of societal judgment loomed large in her thoughts. She knew all too well the consequences of being deemed with child before the sanctity of marriage graced their union. The whispered accusations of whorehood, already slung carelessly by the spiteful tongues of the courtly ladies, threatened to intensify. But Rhaenys vowed not to suffer their cruel words silently. Once she ascended the throne, her power as queen would be wielded with a vengeance. No man or woman would dare defile her name with the poison of that accursed word. The weight of her future crown bolstered her resolve, fueling a fire within her that would not be extinguished.

In the confines of their intimate conversations, Rhaenys had bared her deepest worries to Robert, laying bare the burden that weighed upon her heart. And true to his word, the king had orchestrated the hastening of their impending nuptials, a testament to his understanding and devotion. As the tidings of their advanced wedding date rippled through the gilded corridors of the capital, they carried with them not only the announcement but also a swirling tempest of rumors.

Whispers snaked their way through the court, weaving intricate tales of the princess and the king, each laden with cruelty and curiosity. Amongst the Tyrell girls, Rhaenys had learned, these murmurs had found fertile ground. The conversations they shared over delicate cups of tea had transformed into a dissection of her situation. Such knowledge, conveyed by her trusted maid Taliya, ignited an inferno of fury within Rhaenys' heart. It was an indignation born from the realization that her private affairs had become a subject of public consumption.

The very notion that the courtiers, with their insatiable appetite for gossip, had taken to discussing her so openly caused her blood to boil. While she understood the allure of their curiosity, she could not condone the brazen disregard for her privacy. Yet, Rhaenys found herself drawn to confront these Tyrell girls, to pierce through their facades and gauge the depths of their audacity. Surely, they would not dare to voice their suspicions in her presence, but perhaps they would, propelled by the foolhardy innocence that often accompanied the sheltered existence of young girls.

Lady Olenna Tyrell, the formidable Lady of Thrones, was said to be in the company of these girls on occasion. Known for her unabashed frankness, she became a focal point in Rhaenys' plan. If she were to quiet the relentless rumors that swirled around her betrothal, Rhaenys knew she must either persuade or, at the very least, temper the old rose's sharp tongue. The task ahead was daunting, fraught with the complexities of politics and personal pride. Yet, she understood the necessity of taming this particular storm, for the preservation of her reputation and the stability of her future reign depended on it.

As the sands of time trickled away, marking the dwindling moments before her marriage to the throne, Rhaenys found herself caught in a web of anticipation and uncertainty. Each passing day brought her closer to the grand procession down the hallowed aisle of the Sept of Baelor, a day she yearned for with both eagerness and trepidation. It was the day she would cast aside the weight of the dragon cloak that had shrouded her shoulders for far too long.

Contemplation clouded her mind, casting a veil of indecision over the path she should tread. The question of whether to don the very cloak that Rhaegar had lovingly wrapped around her mother after their union gnawed at her soul. It was the same cloak that her grandfather, a Targaryen king, had draped upon his sister-wife. In its delicate folds, she sensed the echoes of protection and sanctuary, the promise of House Targaryen to safeguard their own. Yet, she could not escape the bitter truth that lay entwined within the fabric.

The cloak, meticulously crafted by unfamiliar hands, seemed to harbor a malevolence, a haunting reminder of broken vows and shattered trust. Rhaenys had witnessed firsthand the anguish her grandmother endured, the horrors inflicted by a husband who betrayed the sanctity of their union. In the face of such cruelty, the cloak became an embodiment of illusion—a mere facade of a harmonious and secure marriage. It whispered tales of happiness, yet delivered only misery and misfortune.

With a heavy heart, Rhaenys weighed her options, her mind veering towards the decision that shunned the symbolic burden. To wear the cloak would be to embrace a legacy tainted by deception, an omen of a fate she was determined to forge anew. In the depths of her being, she understood that the path to her own happiness lay in relinquishing the trappings of the past, in choosing a destiny unburdened by the illusory promises of a garment steeped in bitter history.

The cloak would remain a relic of the past, a reminder of the pain endured by those who came before her. Rhaenys would cast it aside, stepping into her future unburdened, forging her own legacy, and defying the expectations that threatened to ensnare her. In the depths of her soul, she found solace in this choice, knowing that the path she treaded would be her own, free from the shadows of the past and resplendent with the light of her own desires.

In the wake of her decision, Rhaenys realized the weight of the task that lay before her—the creation of her own bridal cloak. Traditionally, it would have been the responsibility of the bride's family to undertake the intricate embroidery, but in the sprawling halls of King's Landing, she found herself devoid of kin. The absence of her family in the capital left her stranded, without the customary support to fashion her garment of significance.

Turning her gaze inward, she pondered the delicate matter, her thoughts weaving through an array of possibilities. It would be peculiar, even inappropriate, to enlist the aid of her maids in such a task, blurring the lines between their roles and her own. However, a glimmer of hope flickered in her mind as she considered an alternative solution—an unexpected ally in the form of Rhea Florent.

Rhea, a distant cousin to the Lady of Dragonstone, had arrived in the capital several years prior. Her presence was initially prompted by the macabre spectacle of the lion twins' executions, witnessed by her cousin Selyse Florent and Stannis Baratheon. Yet, unlike her kin, Rhea had chosen to extend her stay in King's Landing. Amidst the opulent gatherings, she stood apart—a gentle soul with an inherent shyness that set her adrift amongst the other ladies from the Reach. This outsider status had drawn Rhaenys to the young Florent, her own desperate yearning for companionship finding solace in Rhea's company. Though their connection remained more acquaintanceship than true friendship, it mattered little to Rhaenys, for she simply sought solace in the presence of another during the darkest days when her pain and heartbreak threatened to consume her.

Lost in contemplation, she began to envision the design she desired for her cloak, each thread and motif carrying a semblance of her own identity and hopes for the future. But just as her thoughts danced amidst the tapestry of possibilities, a knock echoed through the door of her chambers, pulling her back to the present. Weary of hosting anyone within the confines of her personal sanctuary, Rhaenys let out a resigned sigh, before summoning Talya, her trusted attendant, to grant entry to the unexpected guest who sought her presence.

Talya, the girl who stood faithfully by Rhaenys's side, possessed a delicate and diminutive frame. Despite being only a year younger than her mistress, she seemed to be perpetually dwarfed by her surroundings. Soft, cascading strands of blonde hair framed her face, and her eyes shimmered with the warm hue of chestnuts. Talya's beauty mirrored her kind heart—a rare combination that endeared her to Rhaenys. Among the sea of faces that populated the court, Talya stood as the sole individual who had earned the title of friend, a true confidante. Rhaenys had bared her soul to Talya, recounting the tender and tumultuous moments shared with the king on that fateful night. And in the depths of her sorrow, she had sought solace in the comforting embrace of her dear friend, shedding tears that seemed to never stop.

It was amidst this intimate backdrop that Talya's voice broke the silence, bearing news of a visitor who sought an audience with the princess. "Lady Olenna Tyrell wishes to speak with you, My Princess." The announcement jolted Rhaenys from her thoughts, catching her off guard. Though she had intended to visit the Tyrell matriarch and the hoard of ladies in her palm, she had not anticipated that Lady Olenna would take the initiative to seek her out instead. Concern gnawed at her, leaving her to wonder what motives might lie behind the unexpected summons.

Amidst her thoughts, Talya's gentle voice pierced the air, offering a suggestion to send Lady Olenna away under the guise of illness. However, Rhaenys dismissed the notion, her determination to face the impending encounter unyielding. "No, Talya, that won't be necessary. Allow her entry, and kindly inform the kitchen to swiftly prepare cakes and tea to be brought to my chambers. I shan't tolerate any tales of the old crone criticizing my hospitality," Rhaenys instructed, her tone laced with a mixture of authority and concern.

As Talya hurried away to execute her instructions, Rhaenys rose from her wooden chair, a flicker of amusement dancing across her features as she observed her friend's hastened departure. Talya's hurried steps betrayed a hint of clumsiness, an irony that amused Rhaenys given her role as a handmaiden. A smile tugged at the corners of Rhaenys' lips as she silently wished for Talya's carefulness, lest she stumble and find herself sprawled upon the floor. Despite the slight amusement, Rhaenys held a deep fondness for her dear friend, appreciating the unwavering support and companionship Talya had offered her during the darkest of times.

As Lady Olenna entered the chamber, a glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes, mistaking Rhaenys's smile as a genuine display of pleasure. "I must say, I did not expect My Lady to be quite so happy to see me," she remarked, a sly undertone coloring her words. Rhaenys responded with a laughter that failed to reach the depths of her eyes. She was well aware of the crone's intentions, understanding that Lady Olenna sought to provoke her, yet she refused to be ruffled by such tactics.

"Why, Lady Olenna, I am most delighted to see you," Rhaenys replied, her tone tinged with practiced diplomacy. Slowly, she circled around the round table, purposefully making her way towards the formidable woman. She extended her arms, enveloping Lady Olenna in an embrace, feeling the stiffening of the old lady's frame. Pressing her lips gently against the creased skin of the matriarch's cheek, Rhaenys witnessed a fleeting moment of anger flicker in the depths of Lady Olenna's eyes. Satisfied with the reaction, Rhaenys allowed a self-satisfied smile to grace her face.

"Please, do join me, My Lady," Rhaenys gestured towards the round table, where the anticipation of cakes and tea filled the air. "I have summoned the kitchen to bring forth our refreshments, and they should be arriving shortly. Take a seat, if you please,"

"Very well, then," the old lady said, making her way towards the round table and firmly settling herself upon one of the wooden chairs. Rhaenys positioned herself in the chair closest to Lady Olenna, observing with delight as a faint pucker of annoyance marred the elder woman's lips. Ah, let the old crone stew in her agitation, for it would only serve to facilitate Rhaenys' endeavor to unravel her motives and discern her vulnerabilities.

Rhaenys regarded Lady Olenna with a quizzical expression. "Is there a reason why you sought me out, My Lady?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected visit.

"It has come to my attention that you and I have never had tea together. I wished to change that, especially now that you are to be queen," the Lady of Thrones responded, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

Perplexed, Rhaenys probed further, "I fail to comprehend. What does my impending role as queen have to do with sharing a cup of tea?"

Lady Olenna's eyes twinkled with wisdom as she explained, "Well, once you ascend to the throne, your days will be filled with endless responsibilities and duties. There will be little time for leisurely pursuits, such as having tea with an old lady like myself,"

The weight of Lady Olenna's words settled upon Rhaenys, her realization dawning that her future as queen would indeed be consumed by countless obligations. While she harbored no desire to share tea with the elder woman even in the present, she couldn't deny the logic behind Lady Olenna's observation. However, Rhaenys chose not to voice her true feelings.

A sheepish smile tugged at Rhaenys' lips. "I must confess that I haven't given much thought to how busy I will be once I assume the role of queen."

Lady Olenna nodded knowingly. "It is understandable, given that your engagement to the King seemingly appeared out of thin air,”

Rhaenys sighed softly. "I admit, the news of my betrothal to His Grace came as quite a shock to me," she confessed.

"Did it truly come as a shock to you?" Lady Olenna inquired, her voice laced with a knowing undertone. Her leathery hands reached across the table, settling upon Rhaenys' intertwined fingers, their weathered touch contrasting against the young princess's delicate skin.

"I am not sure what you mean, My Lady," Rhaenys replied, her voice poised and composed, masking her true thoughts. She was acutely aware of the underlying question that lingered in the air. Lady Olenna desired to unravel the enigma behind the swiftness of her engagement to Robert, and Rhaenys yearned to hear the Tyrell matriarch voice her suspicions aloud. If accusations were to be made, let them be spoken openly. Rhaenys had no patience for veiled games; she was determined not to allow Lady Olenna to triumph over her.

"It's only that... surely you must take notice of how rapidly your wedding is approaching. Just a moon ago, you were betrothed to the Stark boy, and now, in a mere two moons' time, you will assume the role of Queen consort. It is quite... unusual," Lady Olenna remarked, her words pregnant with implications.

Unusual it may be, Rhaenys thought, her eyes narrowing subtly. Of course, the circumstances surrounding her betrothal were far from ordinary. She had maneuvered swiftly to capture Robert's attention, relying on the fickle whims of fate to align in her favor. Time was of the essence, and she had seized the opportunity with cunning precision. If she had hesitated, the Baratheon lord would have swiftly turned his gaze elsewhere, drawn to other temptations and distractions. The realm's perception of their hastily arranged union mattered little in the face of her impending triumph. In just two moons' time, Rhaenys would marry Robert, and her son would be destined to inherit the realm as his birthright.

"I cannot claim to understand the King's and his Hand's motives in arranging my marriage to his Grace on such short notice. As a mere woman, I do not possess the ability to discern the inner workings of men's minds," Rhaenys responded with a touch of resignation in her voice. She acknowledged the mysterious circumstances surrounding her union with Robert, yet remained poised, refusing to succumb to the taunting tone of Lady Olenna's words.

Lady Olenna's words drip with sarcasm, her tone laced with mockery. "Ah, yes. The mysterious ways of men and their impeccable delicacy in orchestrating your union with Lord Robert. I am certain you were kept blissfully unaware of the whole affair," she retorts, a sly smile playing on her lips. Rhaenys feels the surge of anger within her, struggling to suppress the urge to snarl at the audacious lady. How dare she enter my chambers and mock me in this manner? It appears I have underestimated the audacity of the Tyrells.

Before Rhaenys could retort, Talya gracefully entered the room, accompanied by the other maids who promptly arranged the table with tea and cakes. With a tender touch, Talya placed Rhaenys' favorite lemon cake before her, a silent offering of solace amidst the tension in the room.

Lemon cakes had always held a special place in Rhaenys' heart. They were a delicacy made from the lemons her uncle had specially sent for her. As her eyes lingered on the treat, a tempting urge to devour it immediately tugged at her restraint. However, she resisted, mindful of the scrutiny that Lady Tyrell's sharp eyes would surely cast upon her. An intriguing thought then struck her— did Olenna Tyrell possess knowledge of the life growing within her womb ? Rhaenys doubted it. Even if the shrewd lady had suspicions about her and Robert's secret rendezvous, she could not possibly be aware of the child growing inside her. Only Robert and Talya shared that intimate knowledge. Nonetheless, Rhaenys knew that in due time, her pregnancy would become undeniable, securing her position at court. The rumors of premarital intimacy would fade into insignificance, overshadowed by the birth of a Baratheon heir. No rumors of pre marital coupling will touch her, it wouldn't matter at that point at least.

With tentative resolve, the Dornish girl delicately withdraws her hands from the vice-like grip of the woman seated beside her. "I must admit, My Lady, you possess an abundance of knowledge when it comes to understanding the ways of men. After all, your years of experience with husbands, sons, and even grandsons must have granted you invaluable insight. If only I could acquire half the wisdom you possess," Rhaenys says, her tone light but laced with a hint of irony.

A gasp escaped her lips as the woman seized her hand once more, yanking her forward with force. The sharpness of Lady Olenna's nails pierces Rhaenys' delicate skin, prompting a soft moan of pain.

"Listen closely, girl. Do not mistake me for a fool. I may not comprehend the intricacies of how you captivated the King's attention, but hear this," the widow leans closer, fixing a piercing gaze upon her. "Do not, even for a fleeting moment, believe that the King's choice to marry you signifies love. Men like him do not confine themselves to a single bed. How foolish you are to cling to such hope, thinking that love can be found within the cursed walls of this capital,"

A surge of fury ignites within Rhaenys, prompting her to wrench her hand from its captor's grasp and rise from her seat. "You have gravely mistaken me, My Lady. I am far from being a naive and foolish girl, regardless of how much you may desire it. It is rather amusing that you assume I would seek love from the King. I am well aware that love alone cannot hold a man's loyalty. Why should I squander my affection on such a man? Let me remind you, Lady Olenna, I am not easily deceived," Rhaenys retorts with conviction, her voice steady and unwavering.

A charged silence envelops the chamber as both women lock eyes, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. The air crackles with tension, each refusing to back down. The room becomes a battlefield of unspoken words and simmering defiance.

Exhaustion washes over Rhaenys, her spirits dampened by the encounter with the crone. Weary and drained, she realizes she lacks the energy to continue engaging with Lady Olenna. With a firm tone, she asserts her desire for the Queen of Thrones to depart.

"We have barely scratched the surface of our conversation. It would be wrong to leave it unfinished," the old lady remarks, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Rhaenys can feel her patience wearing thin, contemplating forcibly escorting the elderly woman out of her chambers if she utters another word.

"Excuse me, but I am feeling quite faint" Rhaenys interrupts before the widow can speak again, swiftly calling out to Talya for assistance.

"Talya, please inform Lady Olenna's guard that she wishes to return to her quarters," she requests, her maid promptly departing to relay the message to the guards.

"Well, it appears our afternoon together has reached its conclusion. I shall look forward to our future encounters, My Lady," Rhaenys declares to the Thorn Queen, her tone masking her true feelings. Without further delay, she retreats into her bedchambers, shutting the door behind her. As the door closes, she hears the scraping of Lady Tyrell's chair on the floor, followed by the shutting of her own quarters.

Emerging from her bedchambers, Rhaenys rejoins the common area, where Talya awaits. Sensing her mistress's somber mood, the handmaiden endeavors to uplift her spirits, determined to bring a smile back to Rhaenys' face.

"Would you like me to pour you some tea? It will go well with your lemon cake." Talya's soothing voice pierces through the fog of Rhaenys' thoughts, offering a glimmer of clarity. Determined not to let the encounter with the old crone ruin her mood, she decides to allow her fair-haired friend to brighten her spirits instead of dwelling on her frustrations.

"Yes, please pour some tea for yourself as well," Rhaenys replies, her gaze fixed on Talya's graceful movements. She observes as the tea cascades into the delicate cup, its porcelain surface adorned with intricate blue dyes, depicting a crown of painted flowers. With practiced hands, Talya places the cup in front of Rhaenys' previously occupied seat, enticing her to reclaim her place. The indigo-eyed girl settles back into her seat, her eyes never leaving Talya's graceful presence.

Moments later, Talya presents the plate bearing Rhaenys' beloved lemon cake. "Here, indulge in your cake while your tea is still warm," her devoted maid suggests.

As Rhaenys takes her first sip of the hot tea, a searing sensation tingles on her tongue, causing her to involuntarily curse. Talya's melodic laughter bubbles forth, finding amusement in her princess's minor mishap. Before long, Rhaenys joins in, her laughter echoing in harmony with her dear friend's joyous sound. In the presence of Talya, she finds solace and a profound sense of mirth that she seldom encounters elsewhere. She contemplates if anyone else could bring her the same unadulterated happiness, but the doubts loom large in her mind.

"Must you find such amusement in my pain, dear Talya? It hardly befits your ladylike demeanor. Have I not taught you better?" Rhaenys playfully chides her younger companion. Talya feigns offense, her expression mirroring mock indignation as she swiftly retorts, "I, unladylike? I dare say, I have never heard anything more slanderous!" Their laughter intertwines once more, filling the room as they surrender to a comfortable silence that envelops the princess's chambers.

Sitting within the sanctuary of her chambers, Rhaenys savors the tranquility that envelops her, accompanied only by her dear friend and a plate of delicious cake. Oh, how she longs to bask in this simple pleasure for the remainder of her days. Yet, deep within her heart, she knows that such an idyllic existence can never be. Behind the doors of her sanctuary, they may be equals, friends sharing laughter and secrets, but beyond those confines, their roles as princess and servant dictate their interactions. This realization weighs heavily upon her, a pang of melancholy nestled within her soul.

Talya, her first true friend, is a treasure she holds close, but the knowledge that their closeness must remain hidden from the world is a bitter reality she must accept. It tugs at Rhaenys' heart, knowing that she can never openly express the depth of their bond to others. The limitations imposed by their respective positions dampen the joy they find in each other's company, casting a shadow of disappointment upon their otherwise cherished connection.

Occasionally, Rhaenys allows her thoughts to wander into realms of what-ifs. What if she had been raised as the true Targaryen princess she was? Would she have been bound by the Valyrian customs, compelled to marry her own brother, Aegon? Or would the path have led her to a union with her uncle, Viserys? Perhaps, she ponders, there could have been a glimmer of affection between them. Viserys had been her sole companion during their formative years. But such musings serve only to stir futile longings for a life forever out of reach.

Interrupting her thoughts, Talya's voice breaks through the veil of dreams. "What did Lady Tyrell want with you?" she inquires.

Rhaenys takes a moment to compose herself, her gaze shifting from the remnants of the cake to meet Talya's eyes. "Nothing of importance, my dear friend," she replies, a touch of defiance in her voice. "With any luck, I managed to scare her off today. The old crone should worry about her own grandchildren,”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Talya's eyes as she leans closer. "I heard from one of the ladies in the kitchen that Lady Margaery and her cousins were off stealing kisses from some of the stable boys. It seems Lord Mace has little control over his spirited daughter," she confides, a hint of scandal lingering in her words.

Rhaenys leans back, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes as she begins to share her thoughts with Talya. "Oh, everyone knows that it's Lady Olenna who truly wields the power over Highgarden, her oaf of a son does not hold enough power to dictate the life of his own daughter," she muses, her voice laced with amusement. "As for the girl, well, let her have her little kisses. After all, she's destined to marry Renly Baratheon. It's only a matter of time before her husband seeks his own pleasures with her own brother. If I were in Margaery's shoes, I daresay I would have indulged in far more than just a simple kiss,"

Talya's laughter dances through the air, filling the room with a joyous melody. She nods in agreement, her eyes shining with mirth. These conversations, filled with whispered gossip and shared secrets, transport Rhaenys back to the days of her youth. In those bygone times, when the formidable presence of the Lannister queen still haunted the halls of the Red Keep, laughter was swiftly silenced in Rhaenys' chambers. The queen did not like laughter coming out of her room. But now, with the golden-haired lioness no longer reigning over King's Landing, Rhaenys relishes every moment of laughter shared with Talya.

As the echoes of their laughter fade, Rhaenys can't help but wonder. Is this what it feels like to have a sister? In Talya's unwavering companionship, she finds solace and a bond that transcends the confines of their respective stations. Though not bound by blood, their connection runs deeper than many blood relations she has known. And in that realization, a sense of belonging and contentment settles upon her heart.

She often found it all too easy to forget that she had sisters. Three of them, to be precise, although they were merely half-sisters. The news of their birth had reached her when she was a tender five-year-old girl. Lyanna Stark, her father's second wife, had given birth to twin girls named Visenya and Viserra. It was on that fateful day that the seeds of bitterness took root within Rhaenys' heart.

As she grew older, Rhaenys slowly unraveled the reasons behind her deep-seated resentment towards her sisters. The birth of the twins had marked the turning point, the catalyst that sparked the corruption of her once pure heart. She could still vividly recall that sorrowful night when Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers, had shared the news with her. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the cloth doll her father had lovingly crafted for her even before her birth.

In a fit of anguish, Rhaenys had cast the cherished doll into the fiery depths of her bedchamber's hearth. The flames hungrily devoured the cloth, reducing it to mere ashes within moments. All that remained were two tiny sapphires, once the doll's eyes, now gleaming amid the remnants of the inferno. Those glimmering gems served as a constant reminder of the fractured bond she shared with her sisters, forever etched into her memory.

The birth of Visenya and Viserra only served to solidify the consuming thoughts that had plagued Rhaenys ever since Rhaegar had forsaken her. With the arrival of Aemon, she had clung to the desperate belief that her father's actions were nothing more than a grievous error, a mistake he deeply regretted. Even after her mother's untimely demise, she had chosen to hold onto the flickering hope that her father still carried remorse for abandoning them.

In a cruel twist of her imagination, she had woven a narrative where her father despised the child borne by the Stark girl. She daydreamed that, despite leaving her behind, he still harbored a love for her that surpassed any affection he could ever have for the bastard boy. Yet, the knowledge of Visenya and Viserra shattered these fragile illusions.

It became painfully evident that her father did not consider Aemon a mistake. The mere existence of another child conceived within Lady Lyanna's womb, while his eldest daughter withered away in a desolate castle, was a deliberate act that bore no resemblance to a mere error in judgment. It was a deliberate choice, a conscious decision that pierced Rhaenys's heart with a cruel and unforgiving truth.

Her father had moved on, had other daughters to call his own. Her father's moving on had left a bitter taste in Rhaenys' mouth, a harsh reminder that she was no longer the sole bearer of his paternal love. Once, she had taken solace in the belief that even with Aegon and Aemon, she remained his cherished daughter, his only daughter. Yet, that comforting notion shattered like fragile glass on the day Visenya and Viserra were born. Her father had other daughters of his own now, and soon after, a third daughter followed suit—Rhaenyra, a name that grated against her own.

The similarity in their names only added salt to her wounds, a mocking echo of the bond she once shared exclusively with her father. And to make matters worse, rumors whispered that her aunt Daenerys had become more like a daughter to Rhaegar than a mere sister. It was a twisted irony that even her own aunt had managed to snatch her father's attention away from her.

As the eldest child, Rhaenys had assumed she would share her parents' affections with her younger siblings. But now, she had to come to terms with the reality of sharing Rhaegar with half-siblings she had never met before. Not only did she have to share her father, but she also had to share her mother, not with Aegon, but with the Stranger—the looming specter of death that had stolen her mother away from her.

Talya's voice, gentle and concerned, pierced through the haze of Rhaenys' thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, a constant companion in these recent days. The unborn babe within her womb seemed to sap her energy, yet despite the weariness that plagued her, Rhaenys found solace in the knowledge that this exhaustion was a small price to pay for the joy of cradling her precious child in her arms. The love that swelled within her heart overshadowed any weariness that threatened to consume her.

"Yes," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "I have grown quite tired. It is best that I rest now,"

Concern etched across Talya's features as she offered her support. She stepped forward, ready to lend a helping hand to the weary princess.

The two women entered the serene sanctuary of Rhaenys' bedchambers, the air heavy with a sense of tranquility. Talya swiftly set about arranging the pillows and sheets with practiced ease, ensuring that every aspect of the sleeping arrangements was just right for the weary princess. Each pillow was plumped, every crease in the sheets smoothed out, offering a haven of comfort for Rhaenys to sink into. The room exuded a sense of warmth and familiarity, a sanctuary from the outside world.

With a graceful gesture, Talya beckoned Rhaenys to climb onto the bed, her movements gentle and reassuring. Rhaenys followed her lead, her weariness urging her to seek solace in the embrace of the soft bedding. Meanwhile, Talya gracefully glided toward the window, her delicate fingers reaching for the blood-red curtain that billowed gently in the evening breeze. As she pulled it closed, the dying rays of the sunset were muted, casting the room in a soothing twilight glow.

With the room now enveloped in a hushed ambiance, Talya turned her attention back to Rhaenys, her gaze filled with genuine concern. "There, that should do it," she murmured softly. "Is there anything else you need, Princess?"

Rhaenys' fatigue was momentarily lifted as she gazed at Talya, her dear friend and confidante. A gentle smile graced her lips, an expression of gratitude for the unwavering support she had received. "No, this is perfect. Thank you, Talya," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

Talya's eyes sparkled with warmth and sincerity. "Call for me if you need anything, Rhaenys," she offered, her voice filled with a genuine desire to assist.

Rhaenys' smile widened, conveying a sense of trust and assurance. "Of course," she replied, her voice filled with confidence in her faithful friend.

Sleep descended upon the weary Targaryen princess like a gentle mist, settling her mind and soothing her restless spirit. This time, as her eyelids grew heavy and she surrendered to the realm of dreams, the chaotic visions of battle and strife were replaced by a more tender and enchanting sight.

In the realm of slumber, a radiant girl emerged, her beauty rivaling the brilliance of the sun dancing upon the crest of the waves. Every delicate feature, every curve of her form, exuded a captivating allure that seemed to capture Rhaenys' heart in a breathtaking spell. It was as if this ethereal maiden held the essence of the sea and the sun within her very being, casting a luminous glow that illuminated the depths of Rhaenys' soul.

With a single glance, the girl wove an enchantment upon Rhaenys' heart, igniting a joy and euphoria that surpassed any previous experience. Even the profound bond she shared with Talya paled in comparison to the overwhelming bliss that now flooded her being. In the realm of dreams, Rhaenys found solace in this mesmerizing vision, as her heart soared to new heights, entwined with the ethereal girl who had captured her dreamscape.

In the enchanting meadow, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the girl stood as a living embodiment of ethereal beauty. Leaves, like delicate tokens of nature's embrace, found their place within the silver cascade of her hair, shimmering with an otherworldly radiance akin to moonlight's gentle caress. She was adorned in a resplendent white dress, a vision of purity against the dark backdrop of nature's canvas. As if a reflection of her mother's elegance, her hair cascaded in soft curls, intertwining with the pristine fabric of her gown.

Rhaenys' gaze lingered on the girl's exquisite features, finding solace in the familiarity that tugged at her heart. Soft curls, reminiscent of her mother's own locks, cascaded down in loose tendrils, delicately framing her porcelain face. Yet, as her eyes traced the intricate details, Rhaenys' attention was drawn to a subtle revelation—a pair of small braids, artfully intertwined within the silver strands, accentuated by the contrasting darkness of coal-colored hair. It was a delicate fusion of her own Valyrian heritage and the lineage of another, intertwining in a mesmerizing display.

The girl's flawless complexion resonated with Rhaenys. Every contour of her face exuded an air of familiarity, akin to a reflection in a mirror. However, it was when Rhaenys locked eyes with her, that her heart fluttered with recognition. Within those captivating orbs, reminiscent of Robert's mischievous charm, lay a symphony of emotions—mirth, joy, and an undeniable spark of life. Like sapphires reflecting the vast expanse of the sky, her eyes shimmered with a brilliance that mirrored the blue heavens.

My daughter, my child. Rhaenys knew that the young girl who stood before her was the same one she was carrying in her womb now.

As Rhaenys yearned to draw closer to the mysterious silver-haired girl, a peculiar sensation gripped her body, rendering her immobile, just as she had experienced in her previous dream where the enigmatic boy had appeared. It ignited a spark of curiosity within her, weaving threads of connection between these apparitions and her own existence. Could that boy, who had valiantly fought her father in her dream, truly be her son as well? The thought lingered, a tantalizing possibility that begged for further exploration.

Meanwhile, the silver-haired girl, a vision of grace, gracefully rose from the meadow, her delicate form bathed in an otherworldly luminescence. With measured steps, she began to traverse the ethereal expanse, drawing nearer to Rhaenys. A surge of excitement surged through Rhaenys' veins—this girl, this ghostly embodiment, possessed an awareness, an acknowledgement of her presence. The girl's movement seemed ethereal, as if she were untethered from the constraints of the physical realm.

With bated breath and a mixture of anticipation and longing, Rhaenys witnessed as the girl stepped closer, gradually closing the distance between them. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, as if the universe itself held its breath, captivated by the impending reunion of mother and daughter.

The girl's eyes, like radiant orbs of celestial light, surpassed the brilliance of her brother's and father's gaze. Their deep, iridescent hues shimmered with an indescribable depth, evoking an ethereal enchantment that stirred Rhaenys' soul. Her heart surged with an overwhelming desire to envelop her daughter in an embrace, to hold her close and never let go. Yet, an invisible barrier thwarted her every attempt, as if the very fabric of their connection had been severed by an unseen force.

As tears streamed down Rhaenys' cheeks, a profound anguish and grief engulfed her being. The pain, more piercing than any she had ever experienced, pierced her heart like a thousand arrows. It surpassed the sorrow she had known when her own mother had departed from this world, resonating with an intensity that threatened to consume her entirely. The weight of her despair became an unbearable burden, causing her knees to tremble and buckle beneath the crushing weight of her emotions. And as her body yielded to the overwhelming weight of her grief, she sank to the ground, her strength ebbing away.

On bended knees, Rhaenys remained in a posture of surrender before daughter. The weight of her sorrow pressed heavily upon her, causing her gaze to remain cast downward, unable to meet the gaze of the silver-haired girl standing before her.

But then, gentle hands, as tender as a summer's breeze, tenderly cupped Rhaenys' anguished face, coaxing her to lift her eyes. With an unwavering determination, the silver-haired girl mirrored her mother's position, gracefully descending to her own knees. One hand, which had once cradled Rhaenys' tear-stained cheek, now drifted to rest above her own heart, as if beckoning her mother to hear the echoes of a shared bond.

Rhaenys fixed her gaze upon her daughter, her eyes filled with a mix of longing, sorrow, and a glimmer of hope. The girl's lips curved into a bittersweet smile, betraying the weight of her own experiences. As if carried by a gentle breeze, the daughter's voice finally reached Rhaenys' ears, a tender melody that resonated with an underlying wisdom.

The words were softly spoken but carried a profound truth. They pierced through Rhaenys' heart, each syllable etching itself upon her very being. The daughter's voice held a maturity that belied her age, offering a solace that seemed to emanate from the depths of her soul.

"In my suffering, you played no part," the daughter's voice whispered, its ethereal quality encapsulating a profound understanding. "You cannot mend what has been broken... Release yourself from the grip of pain, for it will only devour you."

The words hung in the air, weaving a fragile tapestry of compassion and acceptance, urging Rhaenys to confront her own demons and embrace the healing journey that awaited her.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #rhaenys daughter of rhaegar #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys daughter of elia #rhaenys targaryen fanfiction #rhaenys targaryen fic #house martell #house targaryen #robert baratheon fic #robert baratheon #robert x rhaenys

[j-morgan-fly]

Sketch of Lysa and Robert from my fic Snowbound Dragon on AO3.

I’m going to do a series of the rare couples from the story.

#lysa tully #robert baratheon #asoiaf au #Robert x Lysa #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanart #my art

[dearchralis]

The dress is inspired by the portrait of Isabella of Portugal, empress consort of Charles V

(With the background)

#digital drawing #got #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #my ocs #house baratheon #robert baratheon #house lannister #cercei lannister #myrcella baratheon #shireen baratheon #princessbaratheon #fanfic #my art #-

[bluemargotrobbie]

ARRODÍLLATE ANTE TU REY|FANFIC EDIT| JAMÁS ⚔️☠️🐺

El rey Joffrey Baratheon queria que su hermana y traidora, kaerah Stark se arrodillé ante él y le jure lealtades.....

Pero Kaerah Stark, se dijo a sí misma que jamás lo haría ...

#game of thrones #kaerah baratheon #joffrey baratheon #cersei lannister #robert baratheon #tywin lannister #jaime lannister #robb stark #sansa stark #jon snow #red wedding #hungry wolf #love #war #fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #wattpad

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Belladonna

Pairing: Young!Robert Baratheon x Reader

Warnings: none really

Words: 3475

Summary: With the death of his father, Robert Baratheon found himself the young lord of Storm's End. A new lordship requires a wife.

He was to wed. That’s what the Lord of the Eyrie had told Robert Baratheon one fine day. Like any other day, practicing his skills with a blade with Ned and without a care in the world until the wise lord had stepped in and taken Robert by the shoulder. With his father dead, Robert was the new lord of Storm’s End. The weight of such a title did little to scare Robert, it was the prospect that he was to find himself a lady to wed. Too soon he was being bombarded with all these new responsibilities and now he had to find a wife as well. Never one to be overwhelmed, he handled everything in stride. It helped that he had the wise Jon Arryn and calculating Ned Stark by his side to help him in his time of need. While Robert took control of Storm’s End and the stormlands, the other two went about collecting prospective brides for him. He trusted in their judgement. While the idea of getting married didn’t interest Robert one bit at least he liked the idea that the most eligible ladies in Westeros would be brought before him. Ned’s choice was his own sister, Lyanna. It would prove wise to have an even stronger bond with the North and the Stormlands. And why not the sister of his best friend? A nice idea, although Robert did wonder how the personality of Lyanna compared to that of her stoic faced brother. He didn’t want to marry a female Ned, as much as he loved him. From the Reach came Jon Arryn’s choice. (y/n) Florent. Those prideful Florents that loved to boast of old kings blood in their veins. And this young woman was the very pride of the Reach. Many knew of her name and even though Gardener Kings no longer ruled, she acted like a queen. The Reach did have more appeal to Winterfell.

That is who he would visit and woo first.

Before leaving, a raven from the Vale had arrived in Storm’s End. The letter from Jon made the big Baratheon lord laugh loudly. Supposedly, Jon cautioned Robert about (y/n), warning her that she had a hot temper and to tread lightly around her when in her presence for she was known as the Vixen for a reason. Behind closed doors it was known that there was another name for the young lady. One that did little flattery to her reputation. Belladonna. Such a lovely name that covered up the poisonous plant that it truly was.

This did little to scare Robert. Women were simple creatures in their desires. Once he spoke to (y/n) he knew that she wouldn’t be as terrifying as Jon had made her out to be. The journey there was an enjoyable one for Robert as he had heard of the beauty that the Reach possessed. Endless fields of green, bursting with fruit as birds and bees alike flocked to them. He had never experienced such fine weather or hunting for the ands were also rich with wildlife. Beastly boars and noble stag alike took nourishment from the abundant land.

A breath of fresh air made Robert feel so relaxed.That was until thundering hooves beating against the earth alert him and his entourage of someone charging toward them.

Tightening his grip on the leather reins, Robert readies himself for a fight. The sight of a large destrier told him that there would be a fight ahead had it not been for the young maiden on top. Behind her were a couple of other bannermen, holding up the cloth banner that had the Florent fox upon it’s threads. Robert relaxes and motions his men to move forward. Compared to the destrier, Robert’s own horse looks like a pony. The lady on top seemed like but a speck atop of the black beast that was meant to be on a battlefield. Not carrying around a woman so nonchalantly.

Sidling up to the maid, she smiles at him. “Lord Baratheon?” Her (e/c) eyes were smart and playful, easily handling the large beast beneath her. Part of her (h/c) hair was pulled back, exposing the signature prominent Florent ears that somehow suited her so well. Normally it would have been off putting to Robert but it added to the girl’s charm.

He grins. “Yes, and who am I in the presence of?”

“I think you know by now.” (y/n) flips her hair over her shoulder revealing the length of her lovely neck. “Come along Lord Baratheon. You and your company must be weary from your travels.”

“It’s quite uncommon for a lady of your pedigree to come out all this way just to greet her guests.” He comments as he falls into place beside her.

She commanded such authority that (y/n) didn’t even need to say anything to the knights following behind her to let them know that they were retreating. “I wanted to see first the man I might be marrying.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“That has yet to be determined.” She doesn’t look at him as they rode back, merely making polite conversation. “If you’re concerned looks wise though, I will admit that it’s a nice surprise. I was expecting someone older and fatter.”

Even that little bit delighted Robert. The way she held herself with complete pride entranced him. Her purposeful coyness and smart mouth was like a game to him that he was all too ready to play, knowing that he would come out victorious.

Not long into the ride did they finally arrive to Brightwater Keep. Robert could still hear the close by singing that came from the Honeywine River. He couldn’t believe that someone had been graced to live in such a heavenly place.

(y/n) was happy to bring them into the gates, showing off her home. “Welcome, gentlemen, to Brightwater Keep. I expected all of you to act according to your titles and not cause trouble for my people.” She was able to easily leap off of her giant horse, wiping off any dirt from her trousers.

Robert had always thought women looked best in dresses, or naked completely, but (y/n) changed that thought. Wearing trousers made her rear appear more shapely and full, something Robert couldn’t tear his attention from.

Stewards and maids awaited them, helping Robert’s men with their luggage and taking them to where they would be sleeping.

“Wash up and rest for a bit before supper.” (y/n) smiles gently at them.

She turns to leave but Robert hastily follows after her. “I would like to greet your lord father. Thank him for hosting my men and I.”

For the first time since meeting her, Robert sees her face fall. “Did Lord Arryn not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Pursing her lips, (y/n) takes Robert by the arm and leads him inside of the castle. “My father is dying. Most days he’s incapacitated in bed. He’s grown too tired to carry on any conversations. He’s saving his energy for tonight’s dinner.”

Why hadn’t Jon told him?

She smiles at his expression. “Don’t worry about not knowing. Hardly anyone does. He doesn’t want people treating him any differently. If you insist though, I’m sure my father won’t mind too badly.”

"No, I don’t want to disturb his rest. He will be in attendance for dinner. I shall speak with him then.”

Her smile returns. “Very well then. Lord Baratheon, your rooms will be up the staircase if you want my maid Marni to show you to them.”

“Where will you be?”

Smile growing, she puts her hands on her hips. “Sparring practice.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Sparring? With a sword?”

“That’s the best way.”

Never had he witnessed a woman fighting with a weapon besides from their tongues. The idea of it was comical. “Well I just have to see this.”

“If you insist.” (y/n) grins and show him to the open courtyard where Florent knights were already practicing.

Completely at ease among the men, (y/n) heads over to the weapons rack. Swords of all types hung from the wooden racks as she pursued her options.

“The Vixen has finally made her appearance.” One of the men points out and jogs toward her. “My lady, which have you chosen for today?” Not until he was close to her did he notice Robert standing off to the side.

At his silence, (y/n) informs him “You best better behave today Errol. There is a lord in our audience today.”

The young man known as Errol straightens himself up. “My lord.”

“At ease. I’m just here to watch this lovely lady fight like a man.”

That seemed to offend him as he sneered. “She fights better than any man. Keep the tone of disrespect out of your mouth, my lord.”

“Errol, hush. Lord Baratheon meant no disrespect.” (y/n) picks up a sword by its handle. “This one shall do. If you ladies are done squawking, the show is about to begin.”

Robert still couldn’t believe that this was happening. A woman was about to fight with a sword against a full grown man. A man that surely had spent his entire life perfecting his skill with a blade. How could this young lady dream of defeating a man twice her size.

Still he gathered with the others and waited with anticipation, (y/n) walking out into the training yard with another young man. Robert grew anxious watching the two as they walked around one another. She wasn’t seriously going to go through with this. . . was she?

“Don’t look so frightened.” Errol scoffed. “She knows what she’s doing. If you are to be her future husband you will have to accept this part of her life.”

The boy’s voice told Robert leagues of how Errol truly felt about his Lady (y/n).

“It just doesn’t seem likely that she could possibly defeat him.” Robert murmured. He inwardly flinched when the large man lunged to attack (y/n).

Fast as lightning, (y/n) easily dodged his lunge; preparing for him to recoil and strike again. Devious and quick like a fox; Robert understood why she was called a vixen. She made that man look like an utter fool, especially when she finally decided to move to offensive attacks. Errol was right, (y/n) fought better than any man. It took Robert’s breath away as he watched with wide eyes, completely entranced as she kept her own against this seasoned knight.

By the time it was all done, Robert’s cheeks were flushed; eyes trained on a sweaty (y/n). Victorious, she stabs the blade of her sword into the ground as the other knights and boys in training cheered for her. Their Vixen. Their Belladonna.

Robert was hooked, more than he had been with any woman. “By the gods. . .”

“If you are to choose her as your bride you better treat her right.” Errol warns him. “If not you’ll be answering to her fury.”

There was no doubt in Errol’s words, Robert knew that well. Jon Arryn’s own voice echoed back in his head. Despite it all, Robert was certain that he wanted to marry (y/n).

(y/n) saunters over to the two men, wiping down her face on a cloth rag. “Did you like the show Lord Baratheon?”

“It was outstanding.” Robert admitted earnestly that it brought a blush to (y/n)’s already red face.

Shyly, she brushes away a strand of (h/c) hair out of her face. “You flatter me.” Her eyes refuse to look upon Robert as she smiles to herself.

The old Lord of Brightwater Keep graced everyone with his presence that night as guest and hostess sat down to feast upon the numerous delicacies that were presented before them. Indeed he looked sick, face pale and skin hanging off of him like an oversized coat. He still held himself with strength and pride; not wanting to let on how sick he truly was. Right away it was evident that the old lord dotted on his daughter, bragging how she was better than any son he could have ever had. Other men at the table agreed making (y/n) sit a little taller in her seat. All the while Robert kept thinking to himself how she would make a great Lady of Storm’s End. His men would adore her as much as those in the Reach. Envisioning the strong children that they would have together made him more certain that she was the one.

Winterfell called to him though; he still needed to meet Lyanna Stark before making a proper decision. After three days spent with (y/n) Florent, Robert had to force himself to depart for the North. (y/n) tried to act uncaring, but Robert could tell that it bothered her to know that he was leaving to meet with another potential bride. He owed it to Ned though to at least meet Lyanna before voicing his decision.

“Do what you must.” She shrugged, putting her sword back into its sheath after sharpening it. Eyes were distant as she finally glances up at him, her fingers go to playfully tug at his thick black beard. “Remember to keep warm. The north is cruel with its cold. Not quite like us here.” (y/n)’s fingers lingered in the thick curls as she reluctantly pulls back her hand.

(y/n) didn’t show it, but she was hurt. In truth she had grown fond of Robert. He was handsome, strong, and funny; (y/n) had soon learned in the past couple of days spent with him.

If (y/n) had been any other woman, Robert would have made quick work in taking her maidenhead. He hadn’t even kissed her yet. For once he wanted to wait. Wanted to savor the pursuit and make it sweet for the bedding.

With a heavy chest, Robert and his men left for the north.

It was an arduous journey that caused Robert’s ass to get sore and he was prone to moodiness the entire way there. Like (y/n) had told him, the weather did nothing to mend his mood. Plenty of thanks went to his beard for that was what truly kept him warm. Each stop made was drearier than the last, the entire time Robert just wished he was back in the sunny fields of the Reach with (y/n).

The sight of Winterfell’s large stone fortress was enough to make Robert cry in relief. Even though Ned wouldn’t be there he was still overjoyed at the prospect of his long journey was over. Now he could rest and enjoy the warmth the Starks had to offer.

Turned out Ned really did take after his father in terms of solemn face and business-like personality. Many others in Winterfell seemed to follow that as well. Sallow faces everywhere, it was a complete change from Brightwater Keep.

All the members of House Stark had come out to welcome him.

Rickard Stark, patriarch and Warden of the North, mustered up a grim sort of smile. “Lord Baratheon, welcome to the north. We were sorry to hear about your father’s death.”

“My brother says that you are to take Lyanna as a bride.” Brandon sizes up the young lord, gray eyes unforgiving.

“If we agree with each other.” Robert offers with a smile, attempting to thaw their icy hearts. It did little to bring warmth to their faces.

What were they doing together?

Brandon glances at who Robert could only guess was Lyanna. His dark blue eyes travel to her. Large, gray eyes meet his gaze head on. Long lashes flutter as she too examines this man who might be her husband. She was a beauty, that was fact, but Robert suddenly found it hard to be attracted to her. All he could think about was (y/n)’s warm smile and cocky attitude. Soon enough he realized that his heart had chosen long ago. As lovely as Lyanna was, Robert’s heart begged him to return to his Florent lady.

*

Ever since Robert had left you had been agitated and unable to relax. Nothing seemed to give you comfort. All you could think about was Robert falling in love with Lyanna Stark. What would you do if he ended up choosing the northern girl? Surely you would feel slighted, embarrassed even. You knew though you would feel pain above all things. He had spent such a small amount of time with you yet you couldn’t deny the feelings that had sprung up.

He hadn’t even so much as held your hand let alone kiss you. According to what Errol and the other knights knew, Robert Baratheon was an infamous womanizer; possibly already having given numerous women his bastard. Were you not attractive enough to him? Perhaps your attitude turned him off.

“Good riddance to him then.” Errol told you. “Just forget about him.”

Easier said than done. You wished you could just forget the memorable days spent with him. The peaceful evenings the two of you spent in the meadow as you weaved small flowers into his beard, laughing at him and dubbing him the Lord of Flowers. How Robert would teasingly whistle at you when you were sparring.

The training ground didn’t have it’s usual flare as you lean against one of the wooden posts. Your vigor to fight was dim. It’s like when Robert left he took your fight with him. Not wanting to even admit it to yourself, you shoved down that feeling with resentment.

Pausing, Errol licks his lips. “You know, if you’re so eager to marry someone I can talk to your father. . .”

As close as you were to him, you had never felt any romantic inclinations towards Errol. “That’s very sweet of you, but that’s not necessary. I’m sure my father is already making up a list of more eligible lords for me to take as a husband.” Fingers fiddling with the pommel of your sword, you stare at the ground. True what you said, you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about never being married off. Your father would find you someone, just not Robert.

“Pick up your sword Errol. Lets dance.”

A little frightened at your tone of voice, Errol never the less draws his sword. “Ready when you are, my Lady Vixen.”

“Belladonna rolls off the tongue more, don’t you think?”

Robert.

Not quite believing it, your sword hand slackens. Eyes wide you could only stare at him in disbelief.

He grins, eyes sparkling. “It would be a great honor if I fought against you in a spar, Belladonna.”

Beside you, you noticed Errol bristle. All you could do was return Lord Baratheon’s grin. “Of course. You would be doing me the honor. I hear you’re an excellent fighter.”

Robert leapt into the ring, shouldering Errol out of the way. You already knew that Robert preferred to fight with a warhammer. This would be the first time you would fight against such a formidable weapon. Excited, you lift your sword back up and prepared for your dance.

When weapon clashed against weapon, you felt your blood sing in your veins; heart pounding frantically with excitement. Every nerve in your body was exploding each measured step you took. Arm and blade becoming one with each block, cheeks ablaze as you drew closer to Robert. This was the most sensation you had ever felt while fighting. This was the kind of fight you had always wanted. Only Robert could have ever offered you such an outstanding battle.

By the end of it, both of you were heavily sweating and panting; neither of you having won. Instead you called it a draw.

“You are an amazing woman.”

You laugh. “Don’t you forget it.”

Mesmerized, Robert drops his hammer and gets to one knee. “Marry me (y/n).”

Laughter was stuck in your throat. “Ha. . . was it that horrible in the north?”

“Yes. I just kept thinking about you the entire time.” You tried to find any hint that his words were lies, but there was none. Naked honesty and adoration shined in those deep pools of blue.

“Y. . . You didn’t kiss me. At all. And here I thought you were this infamous lady’s man.”

His response came so easily.”I wanted to wait to savor you, for you are a delicacy that should be enjoyed with time and not eaten so hastily.” Robert’s hand gingerly holds onto your’s. Your hand seemingly disappeared in his large paw. “I’m a man who doesn’t like to repeat my words, but I’ll gladly do it for you. Marry me, (y/n) Florent. Belladonna of the Reach and Lady Vixen of Brightwater Keep.”

Lips turning up in a grin, you accept his proposal.

#robert baratheon x reader #robert baratheon fanfic #robert baratheon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #reader insert #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction

[countrymusiclover]

3 - The Feast pt 1

Part 4

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

Chezney and I followed Robb's heel's quickly through the winter castle. All our belongings were being brought in by some of their guards and the rooms being prepared by the maids. But none of that matters to me. The ends of my dress had begun being covered in thick mud. "So where are we going now, Robb?"

He glanced over his shoulder causing his curls to bounce as he walked ahead of us. "It's just a little further, my ladies. Don't you worry I won't keep you out long to catch frostbite."

"It's colder than I anticipated it to be, Haelesa." Chezney shivered under her one layer winter fur causing me to pause in my step and drape mine over her shoulders to which she protested. "You'll catch a cold for sure."

Shaking my head I kept walking forward. For most of the remaining trip I didn't notice the cold too bad until we stopped moving and ended up underneath a large red tree in the middle of a winter garden area. "She's right, Lady Haelesa. I would never hear the end of it if you froze to death on my watch." Robb came over sliding his light colored fur cloak off his shoulders.

"Robb, that's not necessary. You'll surely freeze too." I attempted to turn down his offer.

But the Stark boy was raised to be honorable and kind by his parents. He placed the cloak over my shoulders and it almost fell off since it was bigger on me than him. He moved his hands down, tying the laces so it stayed on. "I was born in the North, remember. I'll last longer without a cloak than you and your friend would have."

"Well thank you. So what is this place?" I lifted my head up slightly eyeing the tall red tree in front of the three of us.

He lifted his blue eyes upwards the tree. "This is the Godswoods of Winterfell. My parents were married underneath this tree and someday I shall be too. I thought I should show you since they probably don't have one like it in the south."

"I must say I've seen more of the North than the place I shall call home for the rest of my life." I sadly admit to him.

He apologized. "I'm sorry."

"Not you're doing. It is the fault of my new golden husband." Shrugging my shoulders.

He made a face at me. "You're the girl from the foreign fish house by Dragonstone. My father mentioned it once but I didn't think I would be meeting you during the king's ride here."

"Yes well, my father had legitimate son's. The one he has is only concerned with bedding girls instead of helping the family name. So it all hangs on my head." I explained to him.

Robb eyed me silently for a moment. He wasn't sure what had come over him but he knew he couldn't keep it to himself. "You don't want the marriage to the Kingslayer do you?"

"I told her he might be nice once she gets to know him." Chezney remains the hopeful one.

Turning my head slightly back and forth the wind managed to catch some of the baby hairs that couldn't fit into my braid. "I've heard some good and some bad. Rarely any good ones come from an arranged marriage in this life."

"My mother claims that hers ended well. Five Stark children and an honorable husband." He pointed it out to me.

Nodding my head I kept on. "Indeed it appears so. I dream of the day but it is not my only dream in life."

"An arranged marriage is not my dream either.  But I was raised to be lord of Winterfell. I must do the duty of my house." He declared dropping his brown gaze onto me. "What is your dream, Haelesa?"

Throwing my arms away from my sides I raised them in the air feeling a rush of excitement at somebody finally asking me after all these years. "What I want is to see the world. I've lived my whole life in a castle surrounded by water. After the Targaryen reign ended my house fell into the shadows. I assumed I would die in that castle until my father declared I was to wed Jaime Lannister."

"But we are seeing the world, D." Chezney attempted to say.

Sending her a glare I wasn't finished. "Until we're shipped off to Casterly Rock surrounded by the ocean once more. Forgive me, Robb but what I want is something I shall never have."

"I understand, my lady." He replied softly. "You want love and adventure. Same as I."

I chuckled lightly at the eldest Stark boy. "Aren't we a pair."

Chezney turned her attention away from our conversation hearing the galloping of hooves coming our direction. Robb and I soon noticed it and turned our heads over our shoulders seeing a Stark knight. "My lord, my ladies. Lady Stark sent me to retrieve you for the feast tonight."

"Thank you, ser. We were just on our way back." Robb nodded at one of his father's men.

Chezney and I watched the knight remain there where she spoke up. "Was there something else, ser?"

"Ser Jaime wishes to see his betrothed before the feast tonight. I was informed to escort you to him." The knight said.

Tugging the cloak closer around me I huffed following Robb back on foot. Chezney was behind us and the knight followed from behind even though I didn't feel afraid in these woods. "And so it begins." Getting back to the castle I didn't bother with changing out of my muddy clothes if he wished to see me it would be like this. The Stark knight led me through some hallways until we reached the chambers we had been given by Lord Eddard for our time being here.

The Stark knight held open the door and I shooed him away where he shut the door before my betrothed ever uttered a word. "I was wondering if you were ever coming back or had you and your lady in waiting scampered off to the woods with that boy."

"The boy's name is Robb. Now what is it you wished to see me for?" I questioned him.

Jaime smirked, taking a step towards me. "Ah already on a first name basis are you. Tell me are you more intrigued by such danger of getting caught. Because I can gladly help you with your desire before the wedding in a few weeks."

"Hah. I have no desire to share your bed." I scoffed.

He shook his head. "But you'll have to at some point."

"Not by my choice." I sniped, closing Robb's cloak tightly around me. "If you called me here just to make flirty remarks I must be ready for the feast."

"I have something for you actually. If you're interested." Spinning on my heels I headed towards the door until he spoke up. He went over to a crate drawing out something long wrapped in a cloth sheet. He unwrapped it revealing a shiny new blade.

Tilting my head to the side I slowly moved away from the door admiring the newly forage sword that he had placed on the edge of the bed. "Did you have it made for me?"

"I did my best to get the balance right. If it's too heavy I can have the blacksmith change it." He said back to me.

Slowly wrapping my fingers around the handle I took a hold of it with both hands. Swinging it lightly around I could feel much better balance than the one I held at Kings Landing. "This is much better but I don't understand. Why do this for me?"

"It's very unlikely we will fall in love with this arrangement. So I thought I'd do something to make you happy. I saw that we are both in our true element when we were sword fighting. It's yours, Haelesa." Jaime explained resting his right hand on his hip.

Laying the sword down on the bed I sent him a tiny smile. "Thank you, Jaime."

"You're welcome. Now you best get ready for tonight. We can practice before we leave here in a few days." He says while I put the sword back in its holder and headed for the door.

Opening the door I halted in my tracks seeing his sister standing there where I quickly gave her my best curtsy. "Your grace."

"Little Velaryon." She greets me with a stern look walking past me and into her brother's chambers. Once the door was shut behind the young Velaryon Cersei changed her entire demeanor towards her brother. "What exactly do you hope to gain with her?"

Jaime sat down on the bed confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I am talking about. I have spies everywhere in the city. They told me about you sword fighting with her and her lady in waiting. Now you present her with her own sword. Father won't be happy with that."

He rolled his eyes. "Father has rarely ever been happy with anything we've done in our lives."

"Probably because you and our monster of a brother never did what he wanted. Like jumping off the side of the Rock when we were children." She grumbled to him.

Jaime rolled his eyes. "There was nothing wrong with what I did until you told him about it. Now is there something you want to tell me or did you just come to snoop on me?"

"I came to warn you of her. She won't love you. She's a child and she will never have what we have." Cersei stepped closer to him, throwing her bright red dress around as she went.

Jaime dropped his hands in his lap. "Don't tell me you're jealous of the Velaryon girl. She doesn't want this marriage. The only thing I can do is make it look like this can work between us. If I make it clear that I am with you both our heads will be on spikes."

"You let me worry about my drunk husband. And remember that father doesn't care if you make her slightly happy or not." The queen of the seven kingdoms eyed her brother.

He got to his feet snagging her wrist and bringing her to his embrace. "Lannisters don't act like fools. It's the family name that lives on. Nothing else matters."

"So give her a child and then be done with her. That's the plan." She nodded to him in agreement sepering from him and leaving him to prepare for the feast herself.

I wasn't familiar with the rules of many feasts where the royal family was present. Thankfully I wasn't the one hosting such an event. I simply had to represent my house to the best of my ability. Chezney and I made our way down the cold stone stairs that led into the large dining hall. "I can't believe we're here together, Hael."

The feast

"It's not that exciting." I told her where she huffed and I knew I needed to change my attitude about this. "I'm sorry, Chez. This just doesn't feel like me. All the formalities, gowns and accessories. I don't care for it all."

She squeezed my arm that was looped through hers. "Yeah. I suppose you'd rather be running through the woods like a wilding."

"I wouldn't say that - oh I'm sorry." I accidentally bumped into a young girl with dark brown hair and a messy dress. Tilting my head to the side I recognize her as the youngest Stark daughter. "You're Arya aren't you?"

She spun around on her feet. "You're the Velaryon girl. Come sit with me." She takes hold of my hand and drags me to her seat with Chezney trailing behind us and pulling up a chair for herself.

"So how boring are these things normally?" Chezney asked the young girl.

Arya sticks her tongue out. "Extremely. I don't like them. But I can't stand that either. I'm Arya, what's your name?"

"I'm Haelesa and this is Chezney." Following her gaze I saw that her older sister Sansa was gossiping with her friends. She kept aweing the blonde haired prince who was looking in her direction. I couldn't blame her for not liking it. Yes he was cute and had the title of Prince but that wasn't important if he was a brute. "I see that. I never had any sisters to relate to."

"She was stuck with me. I think I do a rather good job." Chezney throws an arm over my shoulder.

Arya smiled, grabbing her fork and getting some cake on the end of it. "Watch this, it'll be funny."

"Arya!" Sansa gasped shapely when the cake from the fork smashed on her cheek. Some of it fell and got on her dress which caused laughter to fill the hall. Covering my mouth with my hands I couldn't contain the laughter that fell from my lips. Chezney nearly fell backwards off her chair.

At that time Lady Stark sent her eldest son a look sending him over to the three of us. Robb began coming in our direction where I warned the girl. "Run Arya."

"Come on. Get some more." Chezney attempted to help her get some more cake on her fork to do it a second time.

Scrambling to my feet I moved around in the blue dress I wore hoping to block him from his sister. "Haelesa, what are you doing?" He chuckled moving but I got in front of him at every step.

"Keeping you from her, what does it look like?" I teased him with a grin.

Robb made a move but I jumped in front of him yet again. He kept his hands at a distance where if he had he could easily beat me here. He was much faster and stronger after all. "My mother wants me to put her to bed before she embarrasses us more tonight."

"Sorry Robb. But it's three against one." I chuckled seeing his eyes shift from me to my best friend and his sister then back to me. "What's the problem, Stark. Afraid to fight a girl?"

He answered my question. "I was raised not too."

"It's all in good fun." I responded.

Chezney nudged Arya who bent her spoon back and launched cake in his face. He ran toward her and he almost grabbed her until I jumped on his back and we went tumbling to the cold floor. "Haelesa!" He called out my name in a fit of laughter.

"Ha we beat you." Chezney teased him with Arya proudly at her side.

Robb rubbed the back of his head while I brushed the dirt off my dress. "Yes you did. Now off to bed you." He forced himself to his feet pushing his sister towards the hallway.

"At least you're not a sore loser, Stark." My best friend sticks her tongue out.

I pushed myself up to stand on my own feet not bothering with fixing my messy hair. I felt my chest rising up and down knowing I was enjoying myself at this moment. "Uh, I need some air." I told the pair sensing that someone was watching me. I was right to assume so because Jaime was leaning up against the wall watching the whole moment between us. I didn't feel comfortable being myself with him watching me.

"I'll come with you." Robb offered me his arm since I wasn't familiar with the grounds and it was nightfall now so it was easy for me to get lost.

Chezney waved bye to us. "See you later." She saw Robb and I walk away from the feast yet she wasn't the only one watching in the room.

Unknown to the young pair King Robert and his friend Lord Eddard were the ones watching them. "Ned, there's something we should talk about."

"Of course." He agreed to his friend leaving the feast.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#the last velaryon #robb stark smut #robb stark fanfic #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark fic #robb stark x oc #robb stark x reader #robb stark fluff #richard madden #sansa stark #arya stark #winterfell #eddard stark #robert baratheon #got fandom #got fic #got fanfiction #got x reader #got x oc #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones masterlist #game of thrones x oc #game of thrones x reader #ask box is open for feedback #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated #original character #tyrion lannister #jaime lannister

[all-about-that-rec]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV), House of the Dragon (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Jamie Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen Characters: Lyanna Stark, Ned Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen, Robert Baratheon, Jamie Lannister, Elia Martell, Aerys II Targaryen, Rhaella Targaryen (Wife of Aerys II), Brandon Stark, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, Catelyn Tully Stark, Arthur Dayne, Original Female Character(s), Ashara Dayne, Varys (A Song of Ice and Fire) Additional Tags: Robert's Rebellion, Tourney at Harrenhal, Aerys Targaryen is his own Warning, Not For Rhaegar Fans, Robert's Rebellion Goes Differently, Kingsguard | Queensguard (A Song of Ice and Fire), Slow Burn, Small Council Meetings, Jaime Lannister Leaves the Kingsguard | Queensguard Summary:

Alarra Stark, eldest daughter of Lyarra and Rickard Stark, is accepting a fate that has been waiting for her since she had the misfortune of being born a women in the Seven Kingdoms.

 ....However, the fate she gets seems to be far from expectations.

#original character #house stark #ned stark #lyanna stark #elia martell #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #jaime lannister #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #got #game of thrones #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic rec #fic rec #ao3

[icefrye19]

Chapter Seven: Night Watcher

   

     Winterfell 298 ( Lyarra is 15, Jon and Robb are 16, Sansa is 14, Arya is 11, Bran is 10, Sharma 22  and Rickon is 7 ( changing his age a bit)

Years have passed on and the Ice Dragon had blossom into a beautiful young woman, more whispers would spread across the North of her beauty, her kindness and her angelic voice.

During that time, Lyarra has gotten close with Samara the two had became best friends with one another always be there for one another when they needed to.

Arya and Jon had welcomed them into their family right away, Robb didn't trust Samara and thought her to be an evil spirit or something.

An incident where Samara was teaching Lyarra about her magic more  , Robb and Theon were walking by and was curious at it , Theon began to pick at the Sourceess claiming she would teach Lyarra to be a monster like herself Samara got upset at Theon words and nearly burned his arm off.

Theon arms was covered in scars for that year although Samara healed him afterwards, Robb wasn’t forgiven on the manner.

In truth, her mother didn't want her to learn any new magic she once again wanted her focusing on her ladies lessons and to try to find a husband.

Her father thankfully didn't give into mother's words and allow Samara to stay here on one condition that she helped in with chores and helped Lyarra control her magic better.

Samara had agreed to the terms, since then she had became like another sister to her and Arya.

Bran and Rickon loved Samara and would often play with her much to her mother's protests.

During the years, her mother and her had constantly got into argument after argument sometimes about Jon, other times about finding a husband and most of the times about Samara.

Her mother didn't like her spending time with the Sourceess but of course the young ice dragon rebelled against her mother and didn't listen same as the young she-wolf.

Her mother had felt lost for the first time in years and left them alone to do what they wish to but it wouldn't last for long.

Now, as Lyarra was standing next to Samara watching Bran from below trying to shoot an arrow with the help of Jon and Robb next to them sat Rickon who looked on in amusement.

Across from them her mother and father watched as well with smiles on their faces.

Bran was not the best marksman yet ; one after another arrow seemed to miss their target, to his disappointment and Rickon's amusement.

"Relax your bow arm." said Robb.

"Don't think too much Bran, father 's watching... And your mother too." added Jon.

Bran looked ready to fire his arrow, but another had landed dead center before he could release his own. Looking to his right, he found a smiling Arya, weapon in hand and quite proud of herself.

Bested by his sister, he resorted to chasing the she-wolf across the yard, to Robb and Jon's joy.

"Faster Bran!" encouraged the latter.

The moment would have lasted longer, if not for the voice of Master Luwin.

"Lord Stark, a letter from Castle Black."

The patriarch of the family turned to the older man, and read the message.

"What is it?" asked Catelyn.

"A desserter from the Night's Watch." Ned answered.

The former Tully raised a brow; she was well aware of how her dearest husband would take his sons to see the execution.

"Ready the horses; and tell Bran that he's coming." ordered Ned.

"Ten is too young to see such things." Catelyn responded.

"The law is the law, Your Grace." Maester Luwin pointed out. This rendered the Trout's protests void.

"And winter is coming." Ned continued.

" Winter is already here father " Lyarra spoke up turning to look at her father.

Both parents looked to her direction, surprised.

"Did that monster fill your head with thoughts, young lady?" Catelyn inquired.

"Samara's no monster! You just—"

"Enough, both of you! Lyarra, you're coming to see the execution as well" Ned exclaimed tired of the bickering between the two of them.

" I rather be in my chambers " Lyarra grumbled.

" Being inside all the time isn't good for you Lya you know that you can't hide from the world " Samara points out.

"No, you must come." insisted her father. He knew how much the relationship between his wife and niece had worsened over the years. He wanted Lyarra to be far away from Catelyn for once.

"May the Old Gods help me." he mumbled as he left for the stables.

" Can Samara coming with us " Lyarra calling after her father.

"No, she may not. She has other uses." Catelyn quipped. The sorceress raised a brow, thinking to herself.

"I can help Arya with her sewing." she spoke up.

" What why can't she come besides Arya hates sewing " Lyarra said.

"The both of you have gone too wild, especially you, Lyarra. You're supposed to set an example for your sisters, and you're clearly failing Arya."Catelyn scolded.

"You're in the North, Mother. Trouts without hard scales cannot survive here, and your precious Sansa is too tame, we are wolves mother we're supposed to be wild " Lyarra snorted.

" You and Arya are ladies you must act properly and it's about time for you and Samara to separate from each other " Catelyn said.

This angered Lyarra to no end. Arguing with her mother had made her want to remove her gloves, but a shriek from the sewing room stopped her. Samara smirked as she saw Sansa running from three crows.

What in the world was that " Catelyn exclaimed before walking away to check it out.

" Don't let her get to you Lya, I know you and your mother don't get along but try to at least she's your mother at the end of the day and she's only doing what she thinks is best for you she loves you " Samara said.

She still couldn't contain her smile as Catelyn tried to help her daughter.

"You're a massive hypocrite. What did you do?" remarked Lyarra.

"Let's just say Fuyutsuki is behind it." Samara smirked.

" Don't let my mother learn of the truth " Lyarra chuckled.

  

         

          

                      Later On

Riding through the moors of the North, Lyarra couldn't help but appreciate the surroundings. Samara would have come with them, but she had to attend to Arya's sewing.

The older Stark lady had scoffed at that idea, but her mother had given her an ultimatum; let her friend come and not allow her back into the castle, or Samara help Arya but Lyarra goes to see the execution. The lady had refused to argue; she was tired of doing so.

Samara had not liked the arrangement. Instead, she helped the younger she-wolf with her sewing for a few moments and snuck out as a bird to catch up with Lyarra's party.

She had come just in time to find Will the Desserter on the chopping block, uttering something about white walkers.

As Lyarra was standing next to Robb and Jon she stood behind Bran putting her hands on his shoulders for support.

As Bran was about to look away, " Don't look away father will know if you do " Jon says behind them.

One of the guards, brought the desster forwarded in front of Ned the man kneel and looked down onto towards the ground.

"White walkers, White walker... I saw them, I swear!" muttered Will. Lyarra looked up, seeing a lone bird across the sky. Worried, she listened as her father stated his annoyingly many titles.

"... Hereby, sentence you to death."

"My Lord ,please wait! May I speak to your eldest daughter?" Will requested.

"No one believes the word of a criminal." added Theon.

"Shut up, Theon." Robb scolded him.

"Go on." Ned responded.

Lyarra stepped forward, careful of her surroundings. She was quite apprehensive about the request, but something told her that she needed to listen.

"The Night King spoke before he killed my men. He told me he was looking for girl named Lyarra Stark,  he wants you to be his queen."

Lyarra was speechless.  She was not expecting to hear that 'proposal', let alone one from a creature long thought to be gone. Her eyes started to turn white, scaring everyone.

"M'lady?"

"Silence!" Ned hissed. Will complied, confused.

"I've been waiting for you, Lady Stark. Blood of snow and ashes, born of rebellious and chaos. Come to me, and be my queen. " spoke a soft, deep voice.

"Who are you?" Lyarra inquired.

"You don't have to know my name. Be my queen, or you suffer." replied the voice.

The last thing Lyarra saw were a pair of glowing, blue eyes before her vision came to an end.

" You saw him didn't you "  Will asked looking at the young Stark girl curiously.

" I don't know what I saw " Lyarra mumbled.

" Lya, are you alright " Jon asked laying a hand on her shoulder.

" What happened " Robb questioned looking at his sister weridly knowing she another one of her visions.

" What did you see Lya " Bran asked.

" I don't know I'm not sure " Lyarra shook her head.

He tapped his daughter on the shoulder, signifying that the talk must end.

"A madman sees what he sees."

He unsheathed his greatsword, Ice and chopped the desserter 'a head clean.

Lyarra signed and walked away from the dead desster body before making her way back to her horse and riding off knowing she had to get out of here now.

   

                      Later That Day

Lyarra was in her chambers sitting on her bed her harp on her lap, she began to strum the strings trying to decide what song she should sing

The young ice dragon soon hears a knock on the door, Lyarra signed and set her harp down and opened her door revaleing Jon who stood there with two direwolves in his arms.

" Jon, where did you get these beautiful pups from " Lyarra asked letting him inside.

" Well, after you left we came across them their mother was killed by a mountain lion the pups survived there are 7 of them , father had allowed us to keep them one for each of us " Jon said.

" This one is yours " Jon said handing her the white fur icy blue eyed direwolf which she hastily accepted.

" She's so beautiful " Lyarra flushed looking down at the pup smiling.

" How do you know it's a she " Jon questioned.

" I have a feeling " Lyarra hummed.

" Have you thought of a name for this little one " Jon asked.

" Yes, Crystal " Lyarra smiled.

" What about yours " Lyarra questioned looking at the white red eyed pup in her brother's arms in fascination the pup eyes were red which was strange but mysterious at the same time.

" Ghost " Jon answered.

" And what does my mother have to say about this " Lyarra snorted knowing her mother wouldn't be happy about inviting wild animals into her home.

" Lady Catelyn says we are allowed to keep it but when the royal family gets here we must keep them in the kneels and we must take care of themselves " Jon replied.

" Royal family " Lyarra eyes widen at that.

" The King and Queen are on their way here along with their children, Jon Arryn has passed away and The King is looking for a new hand " Jon explained.

" Ugh, no seriously we are to have company " Lyarra signed in annoyance she hated when anyone visit her home she would have to act like the proper lady she wasn't.

Her mother would be more harder on her when they had guests she expected her to be proper at all times and Samara would be force to work in the kitchen as a kitchen maid her mother didn't want anyone to know of the Sourceess presence in their home.

" It's will only be for a few weeks and then afterward The King will leave " Jon reassured her.

But what the gray wolf didn't know that everything would change for their family when the king would visit for the lions were coming to Winterfell and the ice dragon would be wedded to the golden lion.

#game of thrones #original character #robb stark #freyallan #got #asoif oc #asoif/got #asoif fanfic #ned stark #catelyn tully #sansa stark #arya stark #robert baratheon #fafiction #got fanfiction #bran stark #rickon stark

[crazysleepydreams]

REUNION

Hey Ppl! I know that this chapter took some time, but I was done with a lot of love and many talks insued with my beta about it so I'll give you guys a info dump about this chapter. Thanking both @albinokittens300 and elliecat78 my Beta.

AGES:

Arya, Bran and Sansa - 13 y.o. Tyrion - almost 18 Jamie - 29 almost 30 Cercei - 28 Tommen - 4 Myrcella - 3 Robb - 19 (so, Robb is about one year older than Tyrion) Jon - 20

SOULMARKS:

If the soulmark is on the dominant hand its a romantic mark. If the soulmark is on the non-dominant hand its a platonic mark. And the marks present, as in that's def a soulmark, are always romantic.

As for the shapes and colors:  in my mind, soulmarks are connected to each other. So colors representing what the soulmates felt for each other, the colors on your skin represent your soulmates feelings for you or even their qualities.  The form of the mark represents: qualities of the mates and even identifications that either they ID with or the other Ids them with. But the soulmarks also reflect what the other half felt: So there comes the play of ash colored mark, if you were the rejected one our soul got to bear that scar and even if it can show the mark you will never see the colors of what your soulmate felt for you, a defence mechanism maybe? And so if you where the one rejecting your other half the outer part of the mark and colors won't fade into ur skin, but it would become smokey and ash colored: representing the severed bond.

REUNION PT3: GROWING UP STARKS.

Catelyn and Ned looked at their growing twins in silence while the worry ate them alive. The twins had grown closer after that dreadful night five years ago: they had grown closer due to their shared guilt and soulmate. They both wore wristbands, the world thought that Sansa wore one because she had realized how intimate her mark truly was and how dangerous it could be if nefarious people knew what her mark was and that Bran simply had one to commiserate, but while it was somehow truthful it was also wrong. Sansa was ashamed of the actions of her past self and couldn’t look at her mark without feeling bad and Brandon was very protective and to some point possessive of their soulmate.

All in all they were growing up well, healthy and happy. Their parents could only be proud of their children - since the incident they had grown closer and could often be found talking to each other about things none, but they understood and about their soulmate: their crowned lion they called him. Sansa was more considerate of others and their differences while Bran had calmed a lot and had grown wiser than his years, both were sure they would find their lion and fix the mess their past selves made… But as parents Ned and Catelyn couldn’t help but fear what the two would do if their lion wasn’t as forgiving as they remembered: it was after all another lifetime and in this one his mark must have told him daily that he wasn’t worthy. How could they help their children with something like that? And could they really hate or blame their soulmate if he rejected them this time? What would they all do if he only forgave one of them? 

Some days they just wished that their children had never been born with a soulmark and others they prayed to the gods that may listen for them to never find their soulmate. They knew that their wishes were unkind, both for the twins and their as yet unknown soulmate.

Most of the time it was easy to forget that they even had a mark and they liked to pretend that the twins were simply like all other people, but it wasn’t always the case.

It was a nice Spring evening when Lord Robert Baratheon, Neds best friend from middle school all the way up to college, was visiting Winterfell with his young wife Lady Cersei Baratheon nee Lannister, age twenty-eight, their children Tommen and Myrcella, four and three respectively, who were born only ten months apart so in the North they would have been known as Skaggosi twins. All the Starks were there to welcome Roberth, even Lyanna (who had a history with the flirty man) with Aegon and Benjen with his wife Asha and Arya were there for a visit during the long vacation before another school year started. 

This year Robb, by then nineteen years old, would start his first year at Kings Landings University making his parents proud. He would be Aegon’s flatmate. Aegon, at twenty, who also attended KLU, was in his second year of his Sociology mayor and getting started in his Arts minor, lived in a flat in one of the better places of the city and as his last flatmate had graduated, had been about to hunt for a new flatmate when Robb texted him all about how he got accepted into KLU for his Bachelor degree in engineering. So the time they would spend together at Winterfell they would put to good use to see exactly how compatible they were in living together. Sansa, Bran and Arya, all at age of thirteen, couldn’t wait for their last year in middle school to start and make that big jump toward high school.

The evening was progressing rather well: the families started to get to know each other and shared a nice ambience until just after dinner when Cersei noticed the wristbands on the twins.

“Is it me or do the two of you have soulmarks?” asked Cersei in a bitter tone, raising an eyebrow, causing the twins to lose confidence in themselves and making them lower their marked arms. “You know, I have a younger cousin that has one: I hate him. So full of himself, he believes himself to be so very clever and all my family just adores him. I believe he is just a freak of nature… he is so abnormal! My aunt and uncle are probably the only ones in this world who have seen his mark; they covered it immediately! And the way his eyes gleam… he isn’t natural, but the two of you seem pretty normal to me.”

“Cersei, dear, you know better than most that it is bad manners to inquire about soulmarks so openly. And I really don’t know what you have against the kid, Rider has never acted the way you describe him to and even our kids adore him!” scolded Robert, feeling embarrassed by her. He felt thankful when Robb went out of his way to save him even if he knew that the young man only did so for his siblings. 

“While you are right, Uncle Robert, we are all family here,” at this Robb took a moment to smile benevolently at Cersei. “Aunt Cersei, as one your cousins has a mark, you must be aware just how special the soulmarks are to those who have one, so when Sansa decided that she wanted to cover hers, Bran, being a good twin brother, decided that he would use a wristband himself as a show of support and all of us have worn one at one time or another,” Said Robb, looking at the blond with cold eyes before he returned to normal. 

“Do they have their marks on different sides then?” Asked Cersei and no one really wanted to go into details on that. The family had decided that they would keep the special circumstances of the twins to themselves: a shared soulmate was almost unheard of, even if Bran’s mark indicated a platonic connection. Marks for the same soulmate happened, but they were much more rare than even the platonic soulmarks and the twins didn’t need the world looking into their lives. 

“My sister has a romantic soulmate, while I have a platonic one, if you must know,” Answered Bran with some hostility. He didn’t know why, but he was starting to feel hatred towards the woman and his instincts basically screamed at him to hide, to get away. And he knew from the look in her eyes that Sansa felt the same, his mark burned up for a moment not painfully or anything it just made him feel warm and safe before it returned to its normal state: it was simply there a weight that grounded him.

“Hey, buddy, do you want us to find some things for you to play with?” Asked Aegon, who was sitting next to Tommen. He wanted to diminish this potential disaster and was happy when the young boy nodded happily. “Bran, Sansa, do you think you two can help me look for something he can play with: like those oversized baby-proof Legos?” He asked the twins as he stood up, giving them an excuse to leave the room.

“You mean Duplo, Jon?” Teased Bran as he and Sansa stood up.

“I remember where we put them in the attic, but I’ll need you guys to do some lifting.” Said Sansa with a smile to the boys, happy to be able to leave the room under a reasonable pretense. The way that woman Cersei talked about her, going by uncle Robert's use of the word kid, younger cousin left her uncomfortable… It seemed like she was a hateful and jealous woman.

Later that night Aegon and Robb had excused themselves from the company to play video games and Arya had happily followed her older cousins. Tommen had been put to bed hours ago after he had played some with the duplo Aegon brought back with him, Myrcella had been put to bed before dinner and the twins had disappeared after going to the attic. Lyanna, Asha and Catelyn were doing their best to include Cersei in their conversation, leaving Benjen, Ned and Robert in Ned's study to have some drinks.

“I’m really sorry for that, Ned, I had no idea Cersei would react that way! Hell, I thought that she would know the right etiquette around marked people or at the very least know which things not to ask!” Exclaimed Robert agitated.

“I’m not blaming you. Rest assured, Robert, many people who should know better always ask questions or make comments. That is nothing new, what is new is that a person who admits to having such a close relation to a marked person to say something like that.” replied Ned looking at his drink. He wanted his friend's visit to be over. He started to dislike Robert’s new wife - when he met her at the wedding she didn’t seem so petty.

“What did ya call the cousin, Rider? What kind of name is that? And is he really that strange? She made it out like he was some kind of twisted guy,” Said Benjen.

“Rider is the nickname I gave the kid: he seems happy with it,” Shrugged Robert before continuing. “And yeah I’ll admit that the kid is strange. He is absolutely obsessed with dragons and Old Valyria; hell, he can even read and speak High Valyrian. Not Braavosi or some similar language, but, honest to god, High Valyrian like those scholars that spend their lives dedicated to the study of the Empire. But I suppose that as a marked soul one might expect him to have his things, but Tion is a great kid: not sure what Cersei has against the boy.”

“So he is basically a normal kid with a soulmark that loves dragons and the history of Valyria a bit too much, is what you are saying?” Asked Ned. He was dying to ask his best friend for more information about the boy and his soulmark but would refrain from doing so.

“As normal as he’ll get I’d say.” Responded Robert before finishing his drink.

“What does his mark look like?” Asked Benjen, not having any reservations, even though this type of personal question was frowned upon. “And what is his take on having a soulmark?” This caused both Ned and Robert to almost choke on their drink.

“Benjen!” Roared Ned.

“I’ve no clue what his mark looks like. As much as the kid might like me, he wouldn’t share something so private with the husband of his cousin! He ain’t like those kids that publish their mark online in hopes to find their soulmate or something, he reminds me more of Aegon,  Lyanna’s kid, if you want a personality comparison. And as for his take on soulmarks, I’ve got no freaking clue: the kid has enough issues with his memories-dreams, I take, seeing as he goes to therapy for it.”

“Therapy? Ain’t that a bit extreme?” Asked Ned who knew that the soulmark dreams could be difficult, but he never expected anyone needing therapy for that. Why didn’t the boy speak with his parents about them?

“Normally I’d agree with you on it, Ned, but you haven’t met the kid... I dunno what he went through in his last life, but the gods can be cruel. The kid does suffer from PTSD, so I’d say the therapy has more to do with that than with the soulmark. When we stayed with them last month he had a full blown episode: it was heartbreaking, his mother was able to get him through it, but he didn’t know where he was after he woke from a nap…”

At this the tree men stayed in silence all contemplating different things. Robert was reliving how the gentle, happy smiling kid that took his kids as uncle, went to nap and a haggard soul woke up screaming something unintelligible. Eddard was thanking the gods that neither of his kids suffered from memories intense enough to put them in therapy and Benjen was wondering how a simple reunion could end on such a tone...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Brandon and Sansa were happy to leave the adults and stay in their shared living room talking together before they did some of the homework their teachers had given them for the break to distract themselves from the events that had transpired that evening. 

"So you wanna talk about it?" Asked Bran looking at his sister with concern.

"About Uncle Robert's wife bashing her cousin for no other reason than him having a soulmark and her being petty? No, I'd rather forget," was Sansa's dignified answer. Bran knew that something was troubling her, but decided to let it be as she would come to him when she felt like talking about it. 

While his sister started to get her table ready for the homework, he was more than happy to take his wristband off and trace his soulmark for a while. Bran loved the peace tracing it brought him: it was as if in those moments it was just him and the mark, in those moments he felt as if he were in the presence of Tyrion's shadow or one of his hugs and all the comfort that that brought him. He didn't know how much time had passed; as he was tracing the crown on the head of the lion - a mocking reminder to him that he and Sansa had only been crowned because of his abdication, somewhere far away in the Westerlands a dark strawberry blond haired young man in his late teens fell asleep while reading a book about philosophy on a couch as a feeling of peace fell over him: causing his mother to grab a blanket and put the book on a coffee table.

"Why do you always do that?" asked his sister, with curiosity coloring her voice.

"Do what?" Bran asked absentmindedly.

"Trace your soulmark? You do it when you are feeling edgy or frustrated or in any way overstimulated really, but you also do it just so, for no apparent reason," clarified Sansa. At this Bran tilted his head.

"I trace it because it brings me peace of mind, if I trace it long enough I can almost feel as if Tyrion stood right next to me," explained Bran, causing Sansa to frown. "Don't you ever trace it until you relax? Until it's just you and the soulmark?" Now it was Bran who became curious.

"Well, I do trace it from time to time, but mostly I do so when I feel guilty, and then it burns and for a moment I feel kind of like  back as I did when we were married, safe and protected as if no one could harm me… not even I and my worries just disappear, just without all the resentment. There are also days when it just burns suddenly and fills me with a crippling guilt, anxiety, resignation or simply makes me feel lost; but most of the time the mark simply is and feels like a weight reminding me that it's there: as if it doesn't expect anything." After she said this, Sansa's eyes opened wide. "OMG you're right! The mark is almost a shadow of Tyrion: always there without expecting anything, which is comforting and also disturbing."

After this, the silence returned to the room and Bran’s mind went into overdrive. He started looking at his homework, but in truth he was just staring at the pages frankly, not really seeing them. 

"Why do you think the mark just starts burning suddenly? Does yours do it too?" asked Sansa.

"Aye, some days it does… but most of the time it is to answer or to balance my own feelings." said Bran with a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe when we are distressed and our marks burn out of nowhere with peaceful feelings, it isn't really out of nowhere, maybe it's Tyrion who sends those feelings." Theorized Bran.

"And when my mark starts burning with those nasty feelings? Does yours ever do it, too?" asked Sansa, fearing her brother had come to the same conclusion as her.

"Aye, mine does so sometimes as well… It leaves me trying to find my footing again from all the intensity, even if it does happen seldom. The last time it happened was last month: I felt all those feelings you mentioned and then I felt the need to sleep a whole week. Maybe those are Tyrion's feelings?" asked Bran with a grimace. "Have you ever thought of sending positive feelings in those moments or thinking of good things?" asked Bran guiltily; Sansa just shook her head. "Me neither…."

"We aren't sure that Tyrion sends those peaceful feelings our way in a conscious way… so there is no way of knowing if what we do or don't in those moments does or doesn't affect him, but we can promise to do better next time." Said Sansa looking her twin in the eye who nodded with resolve in his eyes. "Let's do our homework…."

"Let's, but I gotta say that the mark burning before flooding us with foreigh feelings sucks as a warning system…" Concluded Bran.

About an hour after the conversation they were finishing their homework, filled with a burning desire to start their research anew and find Tyrion, when someone knocked on their door.

“Come in.” called Bran after getting a nod from Sansa, while he began to arrange his books and his sister started pulling up their corkboard along with their research.

“Hey, guys, may I come in for a few?” asked their cousin Arya. The twins looked confused, but nodded.

“Sure, come in and grab yourself a beanbag." said Sansa while Bran went to grab their beanbags.

Arya smiled at the twins gratefully before doing so and sitting down with them, Bran opened a mini fridge and offered both Sansa and Arya a soda, both accepted. They sat in silence for a while each doing their own thing until Arya broke it.

“Do you guys know what the fuck that was? I mean, I gotta admit that I disliked you, Sansa, when we were kids: you being the perfect picture of a lady and having a twin and a soulmark and bragging about it! It didn’t help that you never wanted to play the same games I wanted to play, but the bitching that woman did was on a whole new level! What could her cousin have done to make her so hateful towards him?” Exclaimed Arya out of the blue, not taking the silence any longer, causing Bran to drop the ball he had been playing with and making the twins look at her.

“I just want you to know: both of you, that I don’t think you guys are freaks of nature or abnormal or something like that… maybe you guys are a little strange, but who isn’t! Plus, what is normal when there are people walking around having soulmarks! People who can connect so deeply with an animal that they can possess it! When there are still reports of dragon sightings in Essos close to the Valyrian sea?” Bran and Sansa looked at each other and did that stupid twin thing they usually did before Bran spoke up.

“We never believed you thought we were freaks: well, bigger freaks than we are I mean." said Bran with a smile causing Arya to scowl at him and Sansa hit him on his shoulder before taking over the talking.

“Thank you, Arya, for your support, but what do you say: haters shall be haters? I think that applies well in this case. I don’t believe that her cousin did anything for her to really hate him, but it seems to me that Cersei is a shallow, jealous and petty woman who hasn’t outgrown her resentment for not having a soulmark while her cousin has one. We know you never thought us abnormal and I know that our enmity during our childhood is partly my fault. I was pretty full of myself wasn’t I?” Asked Sansa with a smile; Arya returned the smile and relaxed.

“So what are you, double trouble, up to? Have you guys already found any clues about your soulmate? And I promised myself I’d never ask, but how do you guys feel about that?” Asked Arya.

“We are making progress in our research, well, at least partially we have read all historical indications about all three of us, but we might need to open up another line of thinking as our research is hitting a wall at this moment,” answered Bran. “As for us having the same soulmate, I believe we might differ on our feelings, but seeing as our soul bonds are essentially different I have no problems with it: I love him and Sansa does love him too, we just love him differently: only one of us would snog him and that one isn’t me.” This caused Arya to laugh as Sansa turned redder than a tomato. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to do almost anything else with him...”Finished explaining Bran in his almost detached way.

“I agree with Bran, even if I’d have used other words,” Said Sansa.

“So why are you getting nowhere with your research?” Asked Arya.

“We might need to broaden our search to some new things we hadn’t thought about yet: wanna help us?” Asked Bran.

“Sure. What do you guys need me to do?” Asked Arya, opening a laptop that belonged to one of the twins.

“Search for anyone named Tyrion and look for anything that might come close to scandal-worthy behavior,” Answered Sansa with an impish smile.

“For real?” Asked the shocked girl.

“Yes from what we remember, and we asuming that personality wise he hasn’t changed much, he used to get into some crazy stuff… boardline suicidal stuff.” Explained Sansa with a grimace.

“Please don’t ask, just do,” Saiid Bran, not really feeling like getting into a long winded explanation while he continued their previous line of search. The possibility of both him and Sansa staying Starks, keeping their first names and having the same father, in name and titles at least, while their soulmate wasn’t even a Lannister didn’t add up to him, the chances of that happening were close to none! So he wasn’t giving up yet.

“So, Sansa, have you given Ashton’s proposition a thought?” asked Bran while he was busy trying to distract the three of them.

“Bran, we are thirteen, I have a soulmate and if I ever date before finding him it won’t be with Ashton Stone, nor will it be at this age!” Exclaimed Sansa, throwing a ball at her brother who just gave a cheeky smile while their cousin laughed.

So I'm not sure how many chapters this story will get: I don't think it will get more than 10 tbh... I hope u enjoyed it!

#sanrion #sanrion fanfic #sanrion promp list #tyrion x sansa #sansa stark #tyrion lannister #thuesday pomp #original fiction #aegon stark #jon snow #arya stark #robb stark #ned stark #catelyn stark #benjen stark #lyanna stark #cersei lannister #robert baratheon #tommen baratheon #myrcella baratheon #the whole stark family #or pack