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damn-stark · 1 year

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Chapter 13 The court of women

Chapter 13 of Sandstorm

A/N- It keeps getting better!

Warning- Violence, blood, swearing, talks of death, fluff, and there’s changes that depart from the show!

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“My son was stolen from me, my first born boy. He was sweet, good, and he was taken from me,” you swallow back the thick clump of emotions that had begun to cling on your throat. “I know there are fathers, mothers especially here who understand such pain. It’s a pain unlike any other, one you can never recover from. It’s why I ask you now, mothers, sisters, aunts, fight with me. Join my armies, rise alongside the men. Protect your children, your nephews and nieces, your cousins, siblings. Don’t hide under the shadows any longer.”

Whispering against your speech begins to fill the room, men mostly seem to be the ones with something against it.

You albeit knew this would happen, people aren’t as open minded as they are in Dorne. Sansa told you this would happen, it’s why you sat here with no plan to back away, you were only going to push forward with new ideals to progress this old world further.

“From now it will be law that any woman who wishes to be a knight, a soldier, can do so without protest from their husband or father,” you continue, causing the row to get louder. “From now it will be law that disregarding gender, the first born will inherit lands, families homes, castles, and titles like the first born male does. Of course this will apply for the new generation, I don’t wish to start wars between families who have already settled.”

You glance at Sansa to share with her a quick passing look, and she manages to shoot you a faint supporting smirk.

“You really expect me to put a sword in my daughter's hands and send her off to battle with all those men?” A lord interjects as he stands up to be seen and heard by everyone. Some agree, but some don’t say anything. “They are the ones who bring new life to this world, they…support homes, and are the warmth men return to after war.”

You remain nonchalant and shrug. “Aye,” it slips from your mouth after getting accustomed to the word thanks to Jon. “They are, but need I remind you it also takes men to create life. You all still go to war and risk your lives. They support homes, keep the children fed and your clothes clean, but no one will obligate them. They will have a choice. All women.”

“What does a woman know about ruling a land?” Another man cuts in, making Sansa, Arya, your sisters, and you scoff.

“So what?” You quip with a bit of annoyance now. “Are you saying that Lady Sansa, and I know nothing? I can give you a long list of women rulers that were far greater than any man. I can give you a list of women who have taken over the kingdoms of their husbands. They will learn, as boys do.”

“No,” another person disagrees. “I cannot agree to these….” He pauses and looks at you and then at your sisters, letting you know at that moment what he’s referring to. Of course he’s being racist.

“If it does not please you, my lord,” Jon cuts in this time in your defense. “You may leave. No one will stop you, you can join Daenerys after you get past the dragons past these gates. There is no argument to be had lords, it’s not up to debate, the law is made by your Queen,” he says in a louder and more firm voice. “It is time we move on from some old ways. I will do the same, if a daughter is born to me first she will be heir to her mothers throne. My own sister will rule Winterfell and all the north once we take the throne, Ser Brienne is Lord Commander of the Queensguard. If your ego is so fragile then perhaps you can find luck with the other Queen, or try and be independent. Let's see how that goes.”

You raise your chin with pride and shoot the men a pointed glare.

“Moving on then,” you continue and flick your wrist down on the armrest. “Soon we will be conducting an attack against Queen Daenerys to retrieve Tyrion Lannister, in an attempt to gain The Westerlands as an ally. I need women volunteers willing to fight.” You look around at the women around the hall. “The fight won’t be a long one, it’s just our first strike to start this war, the attack will be an ambush, a ruse to say. I and the King will watch from the skies and swoop to burn the remaining army that will be outside the gates attempting to help. Any volunteers?”

“If I may?” A lady pitches as she stands up. “Why should we risk our lives for someone part of Daenerys court? Is Ser Jaime not enough?”

You sigh, and Sansa steps in this time. “Possibly, but our cause will be stronger if both Lannister men are at our side, besides you won’t risk your lives to save him. We have a plan for that, you will risk your lives for your Queen, for yourselves so the injustice done to Prince Rhaenar won’t be repeated. So our home won’t burn to the ground the same way Daenerys burnt Kings Landing.”

You lower your gaze and fist one hand to fiddle with your rings.

“I will volunteer,” a women in the back interrupts and stands up to be seen.

“I will as well,” another stands up, and twenty more women follow after that, making you straighten up and smile faintly.

“Good,” you say. “You all can go with Ser Striker, here,” you point to the tall, lean and broad shouldered Dornish warrior at the end of the stairs. “He and Ser Jaime will overlook training.”

Now with the Lords who pledged their allegiance to you, and this new law shared, this meeting comes to end, letting you slouch and exhale deeply. Albeit as the crowd filters away, Jon is taken away too to help others.

“My Queen,” Ser Brienne interjects and walks around the throne to face you. “I have chosen some candidates to join the Queen's Guard. I just need your approval.”

“Oh,” you mutter and offer her a thankful smile. “Alright. Let’s go now then.” You attempt to push yourself off the chair, but Sansa grabs your arm and helps you up.

You roll your eyes since the action is small, but feel grateful regardless. Even as she holds onto you as you walk out the training yard with Ser Brienne.

“I swear you got bigger overnight,” Sansa mentions and looks at you with a happy smile.

You sigh and rub your belly. “Aye, I think I did. My dresses aren’t fitting anymore. It’s not time yet but it feels as if I’m going to burst,” you giggle softly and meet her gaze with a smile.

Sansa hums softly and then uses her other hand to feel your swollen belly. “Does it feel different than before.”

You look ahead and nod. “Yes, completely. Now my urge to use the lavatory is more often. And there is a constant dull pain on my ribs this time since there’s one little babe who is constantly kicking.”

Sansa’s grin widens at the mention. “That one will be a fighter then?”

You can’t help but mirror her gesture and nod. “That’s what Jon says. He’ll grow gray hairs for sure.”

Sansa laughs softly. “It’s lucky he’s quite patient then.”

You nod, letting her continue.

“I don’t know if I have said this before, but I am glad Jon met you. It seems that ever since I have seen him with you there’s this spark that wasn’t there before.”

You blink in disbelief and meet her pale blue eyes.

“He smiles a lot at you, and is never far from you.”

You scoff softly and can’t help the heat that begins to burn your face as you grow flustered.

“And I have never seen him so excited as he is now waiting for those baby’s to be born.”

“I’m lucky I met him too,” you mutter softly. “He,” you sigh. “He’s very kind. Gentle, loyal and passionate.”

Sansa giggles. “Is he?”

You nod. “He is, of course he’s mostly so in private. I never thought that I’d actually be fortunate enough to have someone like him, you know? I was told that I was going to be matched with someone, at first it was my uncle, Viserys, Daenerys brother, then it was your brother Robb Stark.”

“Really?” Sansa cuts in with disbelief.

You nod. “Yes, but of course before the proposal could be shared it was heard he was married.”

Sansa smirks. “That’s something I would’ve liked to see.”

“But,” you continue to add. “Marrying out of love is something I never knew I would get, now that I have it I’m thankful.”

Sansa hums softly before she grabs onto you tighter. “I’m glad the gods put you in our lives. I’m glad you got what you wanted. You deserve it.”

“You,” you press her now and meet her gaze. “Will you give love a shot now? And I don’t mean marry someone because it’s what’s best for someone else, but for love.”

Sansa looks ahead and swallows thickly. “I,” she sighs. “Don’t know. Perhaps maybe in a couple years. Then again my duty should come first.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You’ve done that already; Respected your duty and married someone you didn't like, now it's time for you to control your own destiny. You deserve to be loved, and love someone unconditionally.”

Sansa blinks repeatedly as she lets out a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Well,” you add excitedly. “If you are willing, I know some people. I have a cousin from my mothers side, he’s brothers with the new prince of Dorne. He’s tall, kind, and devoted. He likes poems, and he is a skilled fighter.” You grin, and see Sansa hide her smile.

“Take your time though,” you assure her and just smirk deeper. “And you, Ser Brienne,” you pull her into the conversation and peer back. “Have you and Ser Jaime deepened your relationship?”

The knight looks at Sansa in disbelief as to how you knew, before exhaling and shaking her head as she meets your curious gaze. “No, not since he left. But even if he didn’t I am now a sworn knight to the QueensGuard, I’m forbidden.”

You snicker. “Forbidden from marriage and bearing children, yes, but not forbidden from having fun. You can still divulge in your own pleasures, men do it all the time even after they’ve had the same titles you do. Just make sure to make it to your watch and be attentive when it’s your turn. That’s all.”

“I don’t think I will,” she says. “It’s just not me.”

You hum and respect her decision. “All right, I respect it, but just know that if you want to drink until you pass out or lay with men, you may. I trust you to know your limit. That’s all.” You offer her a kind smile before you look ahead and watch guards open the doors to the training yard.

There are many people scattered about the yard all occupied on their own thing, there a group of women gathered around Podrick Payne, Ser Brienne’s squire. When they all see you walking down the steps they all turn and stop what they’re doing to bow and curtsy.

It’s still a strange concept to see, all these people now so attentive towards you. It’s not unfamiliar, you’ve been apart of royal life because of your uncles, but it’s strange now because it’s directed at you.

“It’s okay,” you address the crowd. “Back to you were.”

Those scattered around focus back on their own thing, letting you come to a stop regardless to let Ser Brienne walk ahead towards the group of women and Podrick.

“My Queen,” Ser Brienne interjects and shoots the women and Podrick a passing look that makes them line up in a straight line. “These are the candidates. Here,” she points to a young looking, but rather short, and muscularly toned woman with dark brown skin and black hair that almost matched the night sky. “Lana, she was picked from the Dornish forces, she’s not as tall as the others, but she’s quick on her feet, harsh with her strikes, and skilled with many weapons.”

You hum and study her toned body before landing on her black eyes that looked as if she was piercing into your soul. She looks intimidating, making for a perfect demeanor for a Queensguard.

“Good,” you comment. “The next?”

Ser Brienne nods and walks past Lana to point at the next woman, she’s average height, leaner, but she still has toned muscles.

“This is Marielizabeth, she’s one of the freefolk that remained here. She’s vicious, and strong. She’s mostly skilled with an axe, but still very skilled with other weapons. Impressively so.”

You hum and notice scars all over her arms; stories you always liked to think. So she’s quite experienced, and not afraid to get hurt, which is good.

“This is May,” ser Brienne points to a tall woman you recognize from the Dornish armies; she’s not the same height as Ser Brienne, but she’s close. Her shoulders are broad, and her biceps are big, she’s built like an ox. She’s very impressive.

“She was one of my first picks, she’s commander of one of the Dornish armies. That speaks for itself,” Ser Brienne adds, making you hum in comprehension. “This is her twin sister, Rayne,” Ser Brienne continues to point at the woman next to May. She wasn’t as muscular as her sister, but you can tell she’s just as fierce. “She’s skilled with a great many weapons. Reserved, but fierce. Next, is Alys Snow, she prefers long rage attacks, but she is also good at hand to hand combat.”

Alys has very strong northern features, dark eyes, dark hair, tall, pale, and dark long hair, albeit her hair does have a white streak that goes with the paler patches on her arms and over her left eye.

“And lastly,” Ser Brienne finishes and stops by Podrick. “The man I vouch for, Podrick Payne. He has trained under me for years now. He’s grown skilled, he’s loyal and will never let you down.”

You lift your chin and narrow your gaze whilst you let go of Sansa to slowly approach all the candidates. “I’m impressed Ser Brienne, by all the candidates, there are somethings I want to ask all of you though,” you draw in a deep breath and look down the row of people. You then exhale at the same time a mighty roar breaks in the sky, like a clap of thunder, sudden and booming. All their eyes snap to the sky above you to look for the dragon that they hear, but Eraxis is quiet and surprises them by descending down from behind them.

They only know of her presence when her large feet hit the roofs, and her head is already lowering in the courtyard.

“Are you scared?” You ask the lined up candidates whilst you slowly stride around them to reach Eraxis’s side. “Are you willing to give your lives for me, are you willing to give your hearts, and spill your blood?”

All eyes leave the dragon at your side and try to focus on you even as Eraxis begins to snarl. “Yes,” they all answer simultaneously.

“Good,” you assure them as you nod. “Now,” you say and reach over to caress Eraxis' side. “I will give you a choice, all of you. You can leave,” you say honestly and drift your gaze to them. “You may follow Daenerys if it suits your beliefs, if you see her as the true Queen. You may leave anytime you want in fact, just know if you turn your cloaks and betray me there won’t be a corner in this world where you can hide from me and Eraxis.”

The mighty white she-dragon snarls louder, flashing her sharp and large black teeth.

“We will give our lives for you, Queen,” May says and steps forward to get on one knee. The others do the same thing right after, letting her add on. “From this day until the rest of our days. Our lives and weapons are yours.”

You exhale deeply and drop your scowl to offer them a soft nod. “Good,” you comment. “Very good. Get up Knights of the Queensguard.”

Eraxis pulls her head back and grows quiet, letting you lean your head against her. “I hope,” you add. “You get accustomed to Eraxis quickly, we’re quite attached, and if the gods are generous then there will be more dragons when my children bond with their dragons.” You sigh and face them. “And now you may get fitted for armor, and white cloaks, thank you.” You turn and hurry to Eraxis' neck.

“I don’t think you should ride her,” Sansa suggests.

You flick your wrist down and brush her off. “It’s alright. I flew when I was about eight months with child with Rhaenar. Besides, Eraxis takes good care of me. I won’t fly far.”

Before Sansa can argue further, or before Jon could come and stop you, you climb on Eraxis and let her take you to the skies.

——

*LATER*

How could life turn out this way? How did you get here? So far North, so far from any grain of sand, from the beautiful glimmering sea, far from the sun? Far from home?

For so long you always longed for more, you never fit at Sunspear, there was always a part of you missing. When you met Jon it seems that the gap was filled, but now? Now with Rhaenar gone, you wish you had relished that time, your family, Sunspear, those summer nights with your sisters that are now gone. You truly belonged there and you longed for more, now there’s no place you’d rather go back in time to then those times. You’d take Jon and you’d have all you ever wanted.

You exhale deeply and open your eyes to welcome the sight of the starry sky, you reach one hand out for the shining moon in the night sky as if that was the thing needed to turn back time.

A tear escapes past your eye and brings warmth to your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to go back home, Eraxis?” You ask your dragon.

Alas she doesn’t answer and just keeps sleeping. You drop your hand back to your chest, and just as you do there descending from the stars is a dragon that looks almost black at night, but his scales gleam green thanks to the moonlight's hues; Rhaegal and Jon.

You stay where you are and watch Rhaegal land not far from you. The sound of his feet hitting the snow covered ground causes Eraxis to wake up and lift her head whilst she curls up further to hide you. Albeit when she notices it’s just Jon she eases.

His footsteps soon begin to crunch closer to you, but you continue to stay where you are and watch the stars painted in the sky.

“Aye, love,” you hear him say as he gets closer. “You had me worried. You’re not frozen there are you?”

A smile cracks on your face, and you quietly assure his worry. “No.”

He stops by you, but you can’t see because your eyes are on the sky.

“I waited for you at home, but when you didn’t come we came to you.” He continues to add. “You…have Ser Brienne worried. I think she almost climbed on Rhaegal to come search for you.”

You let out a deep sigh and answer his questions. “I just….needed to get away from it all, you know? I…I’m not used to being Queen yet.”

Jon sighs and he takes a few cautious steps forward to now be beside you, and then leans his face over so you can see him, and so he can make sure you’re actually okay.

“No one’s ready,” he says. “But we don’t run away.”

You blink slowly and finally meet his brown eyes and sit up. “Life was easier when I was just a lost princess. I…never imagined life would bring me here. I never imagined I’d be in this position.”

Jon slowly begins to take a seat beside you and lifts his gaze to the sky. “And life was easier for me when I was just a bastard outcasted in my own home….I never imagined I’d be here either.” His voice begins to soften. “When I was dying that night my brothers betrayed me, I came to terms with my death. I had to…” he pauses and lowers his gaze to the snow below you both. “But here I am, for some reason I’m still alive. Maybe it was to find you,” he admits and lifts his gaze to meet yours. “To finally understand what I want.”

You scoff softly, but can’t help your bashful smile. He proceeds to grab your hand and cups it, providing warmth to your flesh. “What do you want?” You ask softly.

Jon shoots you a soft smile and shares. “I never imagined having a family, I never gave it too much thought. I was a bastard. Here unfortunately they aren’t so welcoming to bastards like in Dorne. My place was at the Night's Watch, but after I got a second chance, when I met you I knew at that moment I wanted to be with you. I wanted a family. Now that the dead are gone I want peace, I want to see our children grow, that’s all I want.”

You draw in a deep breath and drop your gaze. “We’ve,” you breathe out. “Strayed from what we wanted haven't we? Maybe we should have stayed here in this cave.” You mention and glance at the waterfall that was in the distance, the same one you came to when Jon first rode Rhaegal.

Jon swallows thickly and nods. “We should have.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?” You blurt and keep your gaze averted. “Naming myself Queen and declaring war? I know we can’t go back anymore, but was it a mistake?” You blink and look up to meet his gaze and wait for his response.

Jon takes a moment before he answers. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t. Besides, there's no turning back now. There’s only ahead, we fight for us, for them, for our children.”

You hold his gaze for a minute before you nod in agreement. “You’re right.” You sigh and then rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Can you stay here with me for a while longer? I don’t want to go back yet.”

Jon wraps his arm around your neck to begin caressing the back of your neck. “Of course.”

You smile softly with content and snuggle yourself closer to him. You let some silence pass before you break it with a happier topic. “Rhaenyra and Robb, does that work for you? Just Robb, Robert is a bit too inappropriate considering he’s the man that killed…you know who.”

Jon scoffs and you feel him shrug. “I truly don’t know, I’m stuck. Perhaps, Aemon? Aegon?”

You pull your head back and look at him with a questioning and judgmental look. “Aegon? Really? Aegon, the what? The tenth? No,” you shake your head. “Not Aegon. And I mean that very offensively to you, Aegon.”

Jon chuckles. “Yes, I agree, Aegon is overused. I’ll ask my sisters what they prefer.” Jon’s smirk then widens. “Sansa has shown me what she made the baby's. They're matching outfits.”

You grin. “Really? That’s cute. I can’t wait. But you’ve got to be careful, she might take your children away.” You giggle. “And raise them herself.”

Jon snickers. “Might save us the headache. They’re twins after all.”

You nod. “Very true.”

Jon’s gaze lingers on you, his smile softens and a breath catches in his throat, making your face burn hotter and your smile turn timid once again.

“I want to show you something,” he break his short silence. “It will require us to go on dragonback though.”

You squint your gaze and retort. “As long as you’re not tricking me and taking me back home then alright.”

Jon scoffs and shakes his head. “No. Not home. We’re going to the wall.”

Your curiosity grows, but you let him help you up to your feet, and then let him walk you to Eraxis side so you can climb up to your saddle. But just as you lift one foot, there in the distance approaching the waterfall you catch sight of a White Stag.

It’s white fur glistens against the moonlight's touch, its large antlers curve to the shining stars, and it’s dark eyes…they find you.

It can’t be true though, can it?

It’s a figment of your imagination….

“Jon?” You whisper and put your foot back on the ground.

“What?” He queries and looks at you.

You point at the white hart ahead, causing him to follow what you point to. When he sees it his breath catches in his throat, and you feel his body stiffen under your touch.

“You’re seeing it?” You ask.

Jon swallows thickly and nods. “Aye, I am,” he agrees, letting you know that you aren’t going crazy.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse and take a step towards it.

The white stag departs from the waterfall and slowly begins to walk towards you, alerting Rhaegal of its presence and causing the dragon to also approach.

Albeit, Jon catches his attempts and stops him. “Rhaegal, no. That’s not food.”

You pull the corner of your lips to a soft smile, and stop just as you reach Eraxis back legs so as to not startle the white stag as it comes to a stop as well.

“What do you think it’s doing all the way out here?”

“Probably just looking for food, or wandered too far,” Jon responds.

You hum in agreement and let your eyes linger on the mythical creature for a moment longer before you touch Eraxis and turn away. “Let’s go,” you tell Jon and your dragon. “Let’s leave it be.”

Jon offers his hand, and even if you really don’t need it, you take it anyway and let him help you up to the saddle. Once you’re mounted he goes to Rhaegal to climb, when he’s on top, the dragons then take flight and you don’t take long to be a part of the night sky.

Feeling the breeze on your skin refreshes your being. You wish it could blow away all the sorrow, but the wind brings no such solution, just a short relief and joy.

Once Jon and you arrive at a part of the ice wall that still stands, your curiosity only heightens since you see nothing unusual.

“What is it?” You ask him as you meet halfway between your dragons.

Jon interlaces his hand with yours and responds. “Just wait. Look ahead though.”

You squint softly before hesitantly following orders and looking at the dark horizon ahead. You wait there and let him embrace you to keep you warm since being so high up is colder.

You wait, but not so long after, just as you were going to ask why you were here, you catch it, the sun breaking over the horizon. You see its sun rays hitting the icy wall and making it shine. The bright but soft hues are mesmerizing and breathtaking. All you can do is smile.

“I’m sure you’ve missed the sun, I apologize you can't see much here,” Jon breaks the silence. “I hope this helps.”

You nod softly and break your eyes away from the rising sun to meet his blazing brown eyes already focused on you. “It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

Jon nods. “It is.” He coos and then cups your cheeks to pull you in for a sweet kiss, there in front of the blazing sunrise.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Y/N, my love. While we were out at sea. We were ambushed, they hit our ship with a cannon before they attacked…we tried, we fought hard, but there were losses due to a fire…Rhaenar didn’t make it...”

This is for you Rhaenar. This is all for you.

You exhale deeply and press your hands on your face and drag them down to smear blood down your face. A sign of your devotion, your anger and revenge. A frightening sight as well for the enemies.

When you look up at the mirror the sight of the scarlet blood on your face even catches your own breath out of surprise, but that quickly washes away as your anger rises and replaces your disbelief. You then raise your chin and drag out a deep breath before turning and walking out of the room.

And the moment you walk past the door, two of your Queensguard knights follow behind you in their shiny silver armor that’s not as bulky as the men’s are; it lets them move better and swifter. They drag their white cloak that contrasts against your red one beautifully. More and more of them join you as you walk outside to head to your dragon and ride towards Kings Landing to commence your first attack while Jaime, Arya and your sister Sarella snuck Tyrion out.

Once you make it outside, past the gates Jon and Ser Brienne join your side and stop as you do as you see all the women that had volunteered to be a part of the diversion. It catches you by surprise, but also pride and joy that so many chose to risk their lives.

Yet just as you were going to thank them, a woman with long black hair, an aquiline nose, and tan skin places her right hand over her heart and goes down on one knee and bows her head. Some others see her do it so they mirror her actions, leaving you stunned and happy since you know what it means.

“What’s happening?” Jon asks in confusion.

Elia steps forward and you see her grin before answering. “It’s a sign of respect in some parts of Dorne. It’s only ever used for prayer, or for when you talk to your ancestors like say our Princess Nymeria. They’re showing y/n the outermost respect.”

You smile and catch that your own guards, the ones from Dorne also mirrored the actions of the women ahead, slowly causing everyone else to fall on their knee and put their fist over their heart. So you then put your own fist over your heart and bow your head.

“I swear,” you interject loudly. “I will do my best to bring every single one of you back.” You sigh with content, and then turn to face Jon as they rise. “Don’t you dare leave me alone in this world.”

Jon doesn’t question what you have on your face and cups your cheek. “I’ll try my best:”

You hold his gaze and chuckle softly before you let him pull you in for a quick but deep kiss. When he pulls back he then presses a kiss on your forehead as one last goodbye before you’re off, because regardless if you’re flying side by side, even if you were going to stay together the entire time when you’re at battle, it’s still war and either of you can still vanish. It’s why goodbyes are hard and so meaningful each time.

If it were up to him you’d be riding on the same dragon, especially the moment you arrive at the gates of Kings Landing, but you wouldn't let that happen, you’re too blood hungry, and require for this first attack to be a spectacle.

“What do you see?” Jon asks as Eraxis and Rhaegal begin to hover in the sky above the grounds of the gate. You pull out the extra telescope you always carried…out of instinct because of Rhaenar, and throw it at Jon as you look down through yours.

“The women are approaching the gates,” you share.

There was not an army of them but there were a few. And you can’t hear them all from so high, but you know what they’re saying, “mercy,” “we seek refuge from the mad queen that is forcing us to fight”. They all look homely too, exhausted to make all the unsullied believe their cry for help.

And just as you assumed they do, they take the fucking bait!

“Thank the gods,” you sigh with relief and glance over at Jon to share a relieved smile.

“I hope Arya is doing well,” Jon worries.

You look back at the women, seeing that the unsullied are bringing backup to try and help.

“I'm positive she is,” you assure him. “She’s truly impressive. I never hear her approaching when we’re home, she’s always lurking too. Besides, she was the one that got revenge for your brother and his wife, right?”

“Aye, she did,” he agrees.

“The story of how she did it is impressive and badass,” you continue. “She said she was going to uh, use other faces this time too, so perhaps, the person you should be worried about is us. Let’s hope Daenerys doesn’t come out.”

Jon stays quiet for a moment as you keep watching below.

“I don’t see Drogon anywhere,” Jon points out. “So either that’s a good or bad thing. We’ll have to wait and see.”

You hum in agreement and lean more forward to get a better view as you finally spot a glimpse of Ser Brienne, and the other girls under their cloaks as they finally begin to walk through the crowd of women to reach the leading Unsullied soldier, and begin the attack.

“It’s about to start,” you let Jon know with excitement.

And from one moment to the next, as you watch Ser Brienne pretend to be helpless she then swings her arm out of her cloak and slashes the soldiers throats, causing the twins, May and Rayne, to swiftly twirl around and switch sides to then stab more unsullied. Lana uses her speed to knock a man half her size off his feet and then rams her sword through this face, whilst Alys throws her whip around one soldier and pulls him to her blade, and lastly MariElizabeth stabs her dagger through one guards eye and then grabs him to turn him and throw him through Ser Brienne's sword.

The other women drop their helpless act and strike as well before any unsullied soldiers can strike, managing to take down half of the small army that had gone out to help.

And now before any lives can be lost on your side, Jon and you share a quick smug passing glance before you nudge your dragons. They then flap their wings, and then shoot down towards the ground with quick speed.

You may not be able to actually join the battle with your own spear in hand, but this? Feeling this rush pump through your veins and striking your heart does make up for it.

Alas, just before either Rhaegal or Eraxis can hit the ground they swoop up and rain fire over the remaining army that was unfortunate enough to be outside of the gates. Just as both dragons meet in the middle, they turn to their sides to pass each other, and then swing around your army to land in the empty space behind them.

The moment your feet hit the ground, the women all line up and let the Knights of your Queens guard stride pass to reach you, and surround Jon and you.

“Any casualties?” You ask Ser Brienne as she falls beside you.

The knight shakes her head. “None, your Grace. Just them.”

You smirk smugly and look at small flames raising out of the ash covered ground.

“There’s a few wounded,” Ser Brienne continues to add. “That’s it, nothing severe. They did good.”

You nod. “As did you. All of you,” you compliment the rest of your Queensguard. “Have Ser Podrick and my sister Elia lead the women out to get looked at before we meet up with Ser Jaime and the girls.”

Without saying anything Ser Brienne looks back to speechlessly tell Ser Marielizabeth to lead the women to those you named, whilst you stride towards the gates to wait.

Luckily you don’t long because then out comes Lord—no sorry, the King Consort, Gendry Baratheon on horseback, by his side is someone else, a tall man with brown hair, a rugged look, and wearing brown leather armor. He’s new, you haven’t seen him before, so he must be the one and only Daario Naharis, Daenerys' ex lover.

“King Gendry,” you're the one to break the silence. “Suits you. I would curtsy, but I don’t show respect for traitors.”

Gendry shakes his head and then glances at Jon beside you. “It doesn’t need to come to this. We can stop this now, just bend the knee to the Queen and all will be forgiven,” he says.

You share an unbothered look with Jon before you look around first before looking at the man again. “Where is Daenerys?”

The other man, Daario Nahris steps forward and answers. “She’s gone. She went to some place called Dorne. You know of it?”

You immediately pretend to act shocked and hurt by his insinuations so it could seem that you didn’t already have a plan.

“Daario Nahris,” you name and tilt your head. “The Queen's lover. It’s nice to finally meet you, she’s spoken a lot about you.” You smirk and drift your gaze to Gendry, catching him go stiff.

“No,” Daario clears his throat. “Just a faithful commander and follower.”

You hum and nod. “Well anyway,“ you sigh deeply. “Can you give Daenerys a message for me?” You raise your chin and continue. “If she wants me dead tell her to come face me alone, no dragons, no army, just us in hand to hand combat.” You scoff softly knowing she would lose in a second. “The winner becomes Queen. If not, well, I’m looking forward to facing her in battle.” You turn to end the conversation, but you remember one thing.

“Ah,” you share and turn around on your heels. “A congratulations is in order, I’d say becoming a father is much more complicated than leading.” You look between both men not knowing who could be the father of Daenerys child that Bran said she’s having after you did your spell.

“Regardless,” you continue. “A baby is such a miracle, especially after being told you’re barren. Give her my sincere congratulations.” You feign a smile and glance at Gendry and Daario one more time before focusing on Daario alone. “So I hope that Daenerys took company to Dorne, she’ll come to find it a futile trip. She may burn our homes, but she’ll never find them until they attack first.” You exhale and shoot them a small smirk before turning again and heading back to Eraxis, missing the confusion in Jon’s look after you shared the news about Daenerys pregnancy.

How would you know he asked himself.

He doesn’t ask you at that moment though, he stays quiet and climbs on Rheagal to then meet up with Arya, Sarella, and Ser Jaime.

It takes a few minutes for them to meet up with you at the crossroads, but when they eventually come all three come back alive and unscathed, and a man sits behind Ser Jaime.

“Arya,” Jon greets with relief and walks over to her horse to check for any wounds. “You’ve made it are you hurt?”

Arya looks down at Jon and shakes her head. “No. Thanks to the disguises we went in without getting spotted.”

“Albeit,” Sarella interjects. “He wasn’t at the dungeons, so we took a detour.”

You hum and try and examine her as best as you can. “Are you okay, Sarella?”

Said girl nods. “Of course. You might want to check Lord Tyrion’s pants, he basically shat himself when he saw us take the face masks off.” She snickers and side eyes the man behind Ser Jaime.

You follow her line of gaze and see him there, dirty, and with his facial hair a bit longer.

“It’s not true,” Tyrion rebuttals. “Just surprised, that's all.”

“Are you alright, Ser Jaime?” You continue to ask and focus on the one handed knight.

The man nods. “Yes, I’m still taken back by the fact that I had to wear someone else’s face, besides that, yes I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Tyrion then clears his throat and interjects. “I should thank you…Queen Y/N, and…King Jon, my brother says it’s thanks to your mercy that I was rescued.”

You nod stiffly. “Yes, but I’ll be honest, you're a political gain. If we didn’t need you you’d still be there.”

The man nods. “I assumed so. But just so you know I am not of high value to the Westerlands, I'm a dwarf who killed his own father.”

You scoff. “Yes I understand, but some of these Lords rather have you as their lord than follow me or Daenerys, so they’d say anything to reject me, I’m taking precautions. Isn’t that what a good ruler does?” You ask.

Tyrion sighs. “I suppose yes.”

You hum softly and then look around you. “Let’s pack up and get going before we find trouble. There’s no casualties, I want to keep it that way.”

“I swear I’ve had this very same dream once,” Tyrion mutters as he notices all the women in armor.

——

*LATER*

“Anything from the Velaryon’s?” You ask as you tilt your head and watch the small orange dragon fly about outside the window.

“The Lord Montery’s Velaryon says he will remain faithful to House Baratheon,” Sansa shares whilst she slowly approaches you. “Those taking over for the little Lord are scared. We can’t blame them.”

You sigh and nod softly. “I know. What about the man that calls himself Lord of the Waters, Aurane Waters?” You continue to ask for the bastard of Driftmark since he’s an experienced pirate with enough ships to possibly fight Daenerys.

“He says that if there’s no Queen then there’s no deal,” Sansa shares and stops by your side to watch Helios.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Isn’t a dragon egg enough? He has Tagaryen ancestors from years of our family alliance and intertwined lineage. There’s a chance a dragon may hatch and bond to him, small but it’s there.”

“You’d think,” Sansa agrees. “But sometimes the desire for too much power is the downfall.”

You lift your head and meet her gaze to nod with a small smile. Silence then follows for a moment when you focus back on the orange dragon, but she then grows curious and interjects.

“What happens to him now?” Sansa refers to Helios. “Does he stay?”

You let out a deep breath and shake your head. “No. He’ll leave soon. He’ll wander the world alone and riderless now. Grow and just fly.” You drop your gaze to hide your watery gaze.

Sansa notices nevertheless and reaches for your hand to hold it in hers. You don’t look up at her, but you acknowledge her attempts at comfort and give her hand a gentle squeeze.

You remain that way for a few minutes until a knock raps on the door.

“Come in,” you speak out loud.

The door opens, making you peer back and catch Jon walking in. He looks the same as usual, brooding and handsome.

“Sansa is it okay if I talk to y/n…alone?” He breaks his silence as he stops past the door.

Sansa let’s go of your hand and nods before turning to you and bowing her head before walking out and leaving Jon and you alone.

“What is it?” You ask Jon and break away from your spot to approach him with a small smile. “Are you okay?” You ask and press your hands gently on his chest.

Jon meets your gaze for a second before he drops his head and sighs deeply whilst a frown forms on his lips, cluing you that this wasn’t a pleasant visit.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Jon more seriously now.

“How did you know about Daenerys?” He asks without hesitation.

You blink in surprise and scoff softly. “Bran,” you tell him the partial truth, since Bran did confirm that Daenerys did get pregnant after her wedding, after your spell.

Jon meets your gaze regardless of your answer as if he could read your mind, and presses. “Is that all? Why didn’t you share the news then?”

You shrug. “I just thought it would be surprising if I announced it when I told them too. Why does it matter?” You turn around and begin to walk back to the balcony.

Jon follows slowly and retorts. “Why does it matter? Because we’re supposed to be doing all this together. You’re supposed to share stuff with me y/n.”

You sigh and turn to face him and press on the matter carelessly. “I’m sorry I just didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

Jon holds your gaze for a second before you look away and try and turn back to continue towards Helios still flying outside your window.

“I like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying,” he adds, making you hold your breath. “Please tell me I’m wrong about this matter. Tell me you’re not hiding anything about this y/n.”

You slowly breathe out as you approach the window, and argue back. “Does it matter if I am or aren't?”

Footsteps approach before he interjects. “It does. We are man and wife, you’re…you’re my best friend. Don’t you trust me?”

You let out a deep sigh and nod softly. “I do, but…” you pause and grip onto the windows railing.

“Tell me,” he insists.

“There’s just somethings you wouldn't understand,” you share and turn slowly to face him. “Things from my culture that you don’t understand.”

Jon blinks in slight disbelief before he sighs and counters. “What things?” He asks. “Help me understand then. We’re partners, help me understand because if it’s about Rhaenar than I do understand, I know you’re pain.”

You scoff and slowly shake your head. “But you don’t,” You counter. “You don’t understand my pain, my grief. He wasn’t your son, he was mine, and…everyday that passes without him I break a little inside. You—you will hopefully never feel such pain with our children, I don’t want you to. So you don’t understand Jon. You wouldn't understand why I did what I did.”

Jon holds your gaze for a moment, letting you see the wave of emotions that pass in his gaze; disbelief, hurt and confusion. “Then help me, tell me.” He insists

You hesitate for a moment, you just hold his gaze as you debate between telling him or not. But he wants to know so you do. “She was barren,” you begin to explain and stay where you are. “I did a spell that made her fertile again. Not so long after she got married Bran told me about her expecting a babe of her own. That’s all I did.”

Jon’s gaze widens and he finally closes the gap between the two of you before retorting. “Magic? You used magic?”

“It’s a war Jon—” you cut him off. “It’s a war. And it didn’t harm anyone, it was just one spell. So please don’t judge me. Magic is a part of my culture as a Valyrian. My ancestors did it, I did it before, I did it now with Daenerys, but that’s all.”

Jon parts his lips and scoffs with disbelief before he shakes his head and turns around to gather his thoughts. You stay put and watch him before you add one more thing. “A son for a son, that’s all I want. She…she needs to feel my pain, she—”

“You can’t let your anger cloud your judgment, y/n,” Jon cuts you off and turns around abruptly to face you, causing your breath to catch at the sound of his words since those words are something you’ve heard before…from your uncle Doran.

He’s gone now too. He along with everyone else.

He said those words to you before he died.

“You’ll just become one of them,” Jon adds. “You want to fight against that. You can’t become what you fear. I will support you, but not if you keep secrets, not if you kill innocent lives.”

Tears begin to fill your eyes, and your legs begin to weaken before you fall to your knees and drop your head to cry quietly.

Jon sighs and falls on his own knees to grab your cheeks and lift your face. “I,” he says. “I know our cultures are different. I can try and understand all that…magic stuff, but not if it involves sacrificing innocent lives. If Daenerys has her babe, you can’t harm it. You’ll get no relief from it, only more pain. Take her throne, get rid of her armies, but not her child. You’re better than that, I know it.”

Tears fall from your eyes, and you can’t help but drop your head as guilt begins to slam into you. “I did it,” you cry. “I did do it…but they were dying already…I just…I'm sorry. I just miss him.” You begin to sob and push his hands away out of your own shame. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t judge me…please…I need you.”

Jon watches you for a second as he process your words before wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for an embrace. “My love,” he whispers. “I’m here. Always. I love you. Just promise me it’s the last time. Just promise me you won’t harm her child when it comes.”

You hold onto him and nod stiffly. “I promise,” you whisper but don’t mean it.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarsslut @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

Hey there!

I understand your requests are closed at the moment; that being said, I really enjoy your writing and would like to throw something out to you when you are at a point where you're taking requests again.

I would love to ask about reader losing her virginity to Jason. I love the idea of something similar to the Arya and Gendry situation, where Arya proceeds to ask him how many women he's slept with, just to make sure his experience is fulfilling to her for her first time.

If you don't feel comfortable with this please don't worry yourself. This was just an idea that I wanted to toss out there.

Thank you!

This is okay as a prompt, don't worry! Sorry it took me a while to get to it because it really is good.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, slight insecurity, gentle sex to rough sex, praise, clit stimulation, gentle dom!Jason Todd

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: I hope this was worth the wait!

"My body count?" Jason paused in the middle of lubing up his cock. "Depends on which one you mean. I'll tell you right now that one is higher then the other. And there's no overlap don't worry, I'm not a psycho." He wasn't a psycho anymore is what he meant to say. Well, only sometimes, when he wanted to scare his enemies.

Maybe you shouldn't have asked, maybe it was rude to him, maybe it was none of your business because you were already naked and ready to give him your virginity but you asked anyway, "The sexual one, Jason. I'm asking because, it's my first time ever doing it and... I want it to be good. Not that I don't think you're not! I want it to be good for us both and I want you to enjoy it and I hate comparing myself to the women you've already slept with but-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you don't have to explain. I'm not ashamed of my body count, neither of them. I was just curious cause no one ever asked me about it before. Not while I was about to fuck." Jason leaned down and pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips, his big, rough hand cupping your jaw and cheek, "I don't exactly keep track but counting the one-night stands, over 50. I was in a real bad place once as you know, sex was a good way to numb the pain."

That might be the only part of his past that he's truly ashamed off. He shouldn't be, but he was.

"Was it all... good experiences for you." You searched absentmindedly for his other hand and after locating it on the edge of the mattress you intertwined your fingers with his, reassuring him that he didn't have to share if he didn't want to.

"I guess? Some are more fuzzy then others, but yeah, I had fun with them, from what I heard after, they did too. Not to brag about my skill or anything but my cock is the subject of many women's dreams." He said, bragging a whole lot. "I know it's been the subject of yours."

"Mhm. And I'm ready to have my dream come true." You took his hand and pressed his fingers against your clit. Jason wasted no time rubbing, smirking as he felt your hips jerking up into his hand.

You whined when he moved his hand away but it was only for a second, the second it took him to press the tip of his cock against your entrance and push it in. His thumb was back on your clit, rubbing it in quicker strokes then before, "I think you're ready for me, sweetcheeks." To prove that you were you pushed him in deeper by using your legs, your heels digging against his tailbone, "Wow, okay, don't be impatient, you've already got me where you want me."

"Not yet." You whined, cunt tightening around his cock, trying to prompt him to thrust already, "Please Jason, I want all of it."

"I know, you have it, you have me." He kissed you, tasting the sweet drinks you had before, deepening the kiss, swallowing your groan, your breath hitching when he pushed past your hymen and sheathed his cock in your pussy. "You okay? Does it hurt a lot?" His eyes searched yours, worry seeping from him, the hand on your shaking hip rubbing up and down.

You bit your lip and gave him a curt nod. "It hurt for a second, but I think I'm okay. I've experienced worse."

"I know but that doesn't mean I want you to hurt." Jason put your words to the test with a slow and shallow thrust, barely pulling out at all. Your pussy clenched at the intrusion, at the dragging of his length along your sensitive walls, "You're doing so good, your pussy feels amazing, tight, wet, mine." He moved backwards again, and back in, dragging out every thrust.

When your body got used to the extra fullness inside you the pain began to fade, replaced by pleasure and anticipation of his next thrust. You met him half-way. Jason smiled down at you, his fingers starting to move on your clit once more.

Each thrust carried more speed, more force, more raw need until it was a symphony of moans, squelching sounds and sweaty skin against skin. Your heart raced as you tried to get closer to him, clawing at his shoulders, leaving deep red marks on them, "Baby... want more? Want it harder?" You moaned out a yes, you kept moaning it until his cock couldn't go any deeper, "It's so tight! You gonna come for me baby? Gonna give me your first orgasm now that you're no longer a virgin?"

"Jason, can we... together?" You didn't want to do it alone, you wanted to share this with him as much as possible. "I'm on birth control, so I don't you finishing inside."

"Thought of everything haven't you?" He preferred it this way, getting to experience this alongside you, hitting your inner walls with warm waves of cum as his body and yours locked up, hips flush together, his muscles bulging. "Holy fucking hell." Jason pressed his lips against yours, not ready to pull out, not ready to leave the warmth that your cunt provided. "It feels nice to have you like this."

"Part of your body count?" You teased, knowing that wasn't what he meant.

"This close. It might sound weird but being with you, it always felt like home." Who knew that Jason Todd got so sappy after sex. You, you knew now. "I love you, babe. I don't think I'll be upping this particular body count any more." There's always the other one to think about.

"I hope not." Hopefully you're the last name he'll ever add to that list, and he the first and last on yours.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #titans x reader #titans #titans smut #dc #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x reader #dc smut #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #red hood smut

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rise-my-angel · 10 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

4 - Standing Behind a Betrayal

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

Length: 13.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Robert needs to know too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Robert, my sweet-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He named you protector of the realm.”

“He did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stannis is your older brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just this once.

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

What was that answer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if we lose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a new King now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he stands alone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Varys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then that makes the heir-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He won’t bend, you know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | part 11.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: it’s game of thrones…

Pairing: gendry x reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The hall began to clear out. There was nothing left to discuss— Daeny would rule six kingdoms in Westeros and her lands in Essos, the North was yours. While you wanted to catch up with the Starks, there was one more issue more pressing. Those left in the room all saw a woman that didn’t match the stories they heard or the girl they actually knew. You were unrecognizable yet familiar.

Tyrion and Jaime let your words sink in— the Lannisters did this to you. You were a soft girl when they had met you years ago in Winterfell. You wanted to live your life, no interest in the crown and ruling because you thought being alive was more important than your birthright.

A sweet girl who put family and duty first. A girl who just wanted to stay in Winterfell and be a Snow with the hopes of becoming a Stark. And when you got that hope, it was killed. Stabbed to death at their family’s hands and this is what you had become. Still soft but the hardened edges were there for all to see. The hardened edges that made you accept your real name and announce to the world that you were a Targaryen and you wouldn’t let them break you again.

Daenerys saw her brothers, both Viserys and Rhaegar. You had the bite of Viserys. The conviction of someone who believed themselves destined for great. She saw the same squared off shoulders and head held high. The way your eyes looked down on everyone, even those taller than you. Eyes that dared someone to try and deny you your place. The same confidence that had him declare himself as The Last Dragon. But where his confidence bordered on arrogance, yours bordered on poise.

That must have been Rhaegar. She had only heard stories of her brother but from what she heard you also seemed to embody. The eyes of Viserys that dared anyone to say you weren’t a ruler were the same eyes of Rhaegar that hypnotized people into declaring you one. Your head held high also tilted to the side, letting people know you wanted to listen to them. Like Rhaegar, you were loved. Your power was that you held others’ love. The North had thought you dead and the moment you appeared they remembered how much you cared for them and they cared for you.

Bran, more Three-Eyed Raven than Brandon Stark, smiled at the new woman in front of him. The princess promised, come back to them. A million scenarios, a thousand times trying to rewrite time, hundreds of years gone by. He had seen it all. Seen the chance that you died. Not physically but in your soul. Targaryens were magic, like the Three-Eyed Raven. There was always a part of you he could never quite pin down and when Robb Stark died there was a chance you died with him. Rhaegar’s death poked a hole in your soul. Ned’s death made the pinprick hole spider and crack. When you thought Bran and Rickon were dead, before Rickon truly did die, parts of your porcelain soul began to fall off. The moment Catelyn and Ned Stark decided to dye your hair and protect you as their bastard was the moment the Starks held your heart in their hands. They covered the fire warming your heart in snow.

And as you got older, they entrusted Robb Stark as the future Lord of Winterfell to keep your heart warm. He did too well a job. Not just wrapping it in the furs of his cloak but holding it so close as if it was his own heart. And when his heart stopped at the Twins, there was a good chance yours could have as well. But you put yourself back together. From afar, Bran watched you restart fires to become Azor Ahair.

Grey Worm, Missandei, the Dothraki, Jorah Mormont, and Varys wouldn’t voice what they saw when they looked at you. Because to voice it would be to indirectly pick a side. They saw you a leader. The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Your eyes were as deep as the Wall was tall, holding magic and knowledge and horror they could not imagine. The price of being a just queen was steep and you paid it. Paid it to try and save all of them.

Tormund, Theon, Sam, and Brienne would gladly voice your praise if the others weren’t so tense. No obligation, they were fine picking a side. Because the ruler in front of them was obvious as the side they believed in. The one who addressed everyone the same, no one less than or greater than another. Welcomed the Free Folk without even a question, made a knight out of a lady without hesitation.

Arya and Sansa believed you to be the same. Their elder sister. But you were also different. So many times to be someone else and you never took it. Snow, Targaryen, Stark. They were all just names to you. What mattered was that you were a child of Winterfell. Always taking care of them and comforting them. Someone could dare say you didn’t deserve to be Queen in the North and the two women would cut them down. Because you were one of the most deserving.

Every step of your life you sacrificed for Winterfell. Every time you thought you found happiness, it had to be given away for the sake of others. Even now— you were their queen because Robb was dead. Even if he was alive, you would still be their queen because you were the only one to block Daenerys from ever taking the North. Your very existence, bringing up, marriage, and child made you the protector of Winterfell. With Grey Wind at your command, they saw (Y/N) Targaryen Stark. Stark. The most important part because you were always one of them.

To Gendry, you were breaking. He wondered how many times the people in the room had truly seen you relaxed and with your guard down. He suspected, truly, only Jon. Because for the longest you two had the bond of bastards and stuck together. He suspected everyone else that had seen it was dead. Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Rickon. You were guarded. Even with those close, you had to be guarded because for the longest you had secrets to keep. Your smile wasn’t completely carefree— he had seen what a carefree one looked like. He had seen it when you admired his bull helmet in the smithy.

He saw it every time you visited under the guise of needing more arrowheads despite the fact a servant could get it for you. One day he withheld the arrowheads from you until you confessed you came down because you enjoyed talking to him. The way, when it was just the two of you in the smithy, you told him your biggest secret. When you were cornered by Jaime Lannister— another man who at one point did have the trust of seeing your guard down— you had run straight to the smithy after.

You told him because you trusted him like you trusted Jon. It was the bond of bastards. Gendry Waters would never tell your secret because if Gendry Waters said anything about (Y/N) Snow, he would be speaking as Gendry Baratheon. As a Baratheon, he was at the same danger of being killed by Lannisters that you faced as a Targaryen. A sigh had left your mouth and a weight lifted off of your shoulders when you told him. He promised to protect it, with a kiss on your hand. A secret he promised to protect was one you just shared with the entire world. And instead of a weight being lifted off, Gendry saw it crushing you.

You would never be the girl who snuck out to see the blacksmith ever again. The carefree smile would forever be replaced with the measured smile of a ruler. Perhaps behind closed doors, your son would see it. Maybe even Jon— bastards forever stuck together. Gendry wanted to make sure you had someone else you could let see it too. Maybe he could remind you of what it was like to just be the girl in billowy dresses that looked out of place in a blacksmith’s shop.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Everyone moved to stand up, Grey Wind as well, but you shook your head. With hesitation and confusion, they slowly sat down. They assumed with the way you spoke that you wanted to discuss battle or something else that you felt the hall was too large and impersonal for.

“Eddard, go with everyone else. Okay, darling? I think Sansa and Arya would love to show you all around Winterfell.”

They realized your gaze never left Jon the entire time you made the request. Eddard nodded and stood up, going back to Sansa. Jon stood up as well and started to walk into another room. You took the wolf pin off of your dress and slammed it on the table. Out of respect, the others started to leave the hall to avoid listening in on you and Jon’s conversation. Grey Wind was the only one who stayed as he guarded the door you had walked through.

“I just need to know. Who are you? To me, who do you consider yourself to be?” you asked.

Jon crossed the small threshold between the two of you and enveloped you in a hug. He patted your head before returning to the bone-crushing embrace.

“If I say who I am, it threatens her.”

“It threatens me, not her. And I don’t care, I’d never feel threatened by you.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “There are two realms now. You are Queen in the North, she is Queen of the Six Kingdoms. My birthright says I inherit the second realm. I threaten her and make us open for attack. The alliance becomes shallower than it already is.”

“Then make your intentions known. You’ve never wanted to be a king.”

“Did you ever want to be queen? And not Lady of Winterfell, you wanted to love Robb. Did you ever want to rule?”

You stayed silent because he was right. Being a ruler was never a consideration you had until after Ned’s death. Even then, it became a byproduct because Robb was going to be king. Becoming queen on your own was never in your vocabulary before. And yet, here you were.

There was nothing saying Jon wouldn’t have been thrusted into the same role if he came forward. Jon searched your eyes that weren’t focused on him and started to frown. Where others couldn’t see, he could reach the bottom of the cliffsides. He could see exactly what you were thinking and feeling. Jon cupped your face in both hands to stop you from looking anywhere but at him.

“I am your brother. Not Ned Stark’s son, not bonded by being a bastard. I am your younger brother, Aegon Targaryen. Outside private walls I must be Jon Snow. To you and Eddard, I can be Aegon— for everyone else, they don’t get to see it.”

“Aegon… it doesn’t even sound right in my mouth,” you said with a sad chuckle. Jon laughed too.

“(Y/N), I am your family. Whether Ned or Rhaegar, we have always shared a father and been outsiders. All I wanted was family, true family… I have a sister, a nephew. I will always be on your side and the entire Seven Kingdoms can burn if I must do it to keep you safe. A name I was given at birth could bring you death. For that, it is not a name I want.”

“You are always d…”

Your eyes rolled white. Of course Jon had seen warging before and had seen magic Bran did but this was different. It always looked so passive but your look read of horror. Whatever you were seeing showed on your face. He held onto you, unsure of what to do when your eyes suddenly returned.

“The rest of our family must know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Arya, Sansa. No one else but we owe it to them. We are all Starks.”

Jon nodded, knowing you saw something that made you want him to speak. If it was just Sansa and Arya, he could do it. Daenerys couldn’t consider it a betrayal because they were his family— his cousins. And he intended to go back to Jon Snow. Nothing was betrayal, it was simply duty.

“Jon?” you asked hesitantly.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m still unsure of my magic, especially of things from right after Robb died. Anything before I left for Valyria really. Sometimes not all of it comes true, sometimes it’s a warning and if you can avoid it then you are safe… I see my brother in front of me, but I saw him die as well.”

Jon gave a sad smile before it broke into one of real happiness as he recalled something. “I broke my promise to you. You said when I left for the wall that you would kill me yourself if I died, I’m sorry to say but the Night’s Watch beat you to it.”

You hit him in the chest and he laughed. Eventually, you did as well. You two exited the room with laughter and as you walked through the courtyard of Winterfell, everyone could tell something was shared between you guys. It was something that hadn’t been seen in a while, the last time they could remember would be when you and Jon were fifteen. The two bastards of Winterfell that walked around like they owned the place and were laughing about something no one else would ever get to know— of course, it was realized months later when it was finally discovered that you and him took the blame for Robb and Arya placing sheep’s dung in people’s mattresses.

You smiled at faces you hadn’t seen in years and at new ones. Some gave you passive looks but others like Tormund had accepted you right away. You were aware of the eyes of Tyrion and Varys who you were sure what they were assessing you for. Eddard had gone off with his aunts and the way they saw Robb in him, you were sure your sisters wouldn’t hand your son back until evening. The smile on your face grew larger when you saw Brienne and disappeared when you realized Jaime was by her side. They stopped in front of you and Jon.

“Ser Brienne, it is lovely to see you again.”

“Your Grace.” She smiled. “I am not actually a knight yet, I will probably never be knighted.”

“I don’t believe that. When the dead are defeated, you will be knighted without another day going by.”

She nodded in thanks and you let your eyes wander over to Jaime. He watched your eyes gloss over his face, his hand, the sword that was formed from Ned’s sword. Jaime looked over you as well. He could only see the damage he had done. When your eyes finally met his, he felt a shame wash over him that he hadn’t felt in a while.

“You never told anyone my secret, Ser Jaime. For that I could thank you.”

He swallowed as he thought back to the dungeons of King’s Landing. When he had you pinned to the dragon skull. Looking at you that day, Jaime had decided he could get along with you. Get along enough that he could agree to Tywin and Robert’s insistence on marrying you.

“But then you let your father’s men try to kill me and for that I want to slit your throat.”

“We were at war.”

“We were guests in someone’s home. You let your father behave in a way no one does even in war and they attempted to slaughter our house. Killed most of our men, murdered my husband, and tried to kill me and my unborn baby. Why? And it couldn’t be because of just war.”

Even Jaime knew that actually was wrong to do what they had done. He couldn’t retort, or try to defend himself just so he wouldn’t be the old selfish Jaime. He looked around— Jon and Brienne slightly uncomfortable at witnessing the interaction.

“Your Grace—”

“I didn’t know you considered me your queen. I’m surprised Cersei doesn’t think it u—”

“Your Grace, will you walk with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You pursed your lips before letting them relax and moved away from your brother. Jaime, knowing it was tense, did not try to grab your arm or any of the sorts. He stayed side by side in line with you, but nothing more. It felt strange to see your Winterfell in the midst of preparing for battle. As you and Jaime walked the place was familiar but not at the same time. Empty spaces now filled with supplies. Jaime cleared his throat and spoke.

“I know what you think of me. I know I have lost the little trust you ever had in me but I did not agree with or know about my father’s plan at The Twins.”

“And yet I don’t believe you.”

“Your Grace, understand me. Try to understand me, please. Does that sound like a thing I would do?”

“I’m not sure, Kingslayer.”

Jaime didn’t care anymore about how you would feel about it. He grabbed your hand and forced you to look at him.

“I am a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything I did when it came to my life was for the realm. The only selfish thing I did in my life was laying with my sister because I could. Your grandfather died because he killed Ned Stark’s father and brother and wanted to kill everyone else. I let everyone call me names because I knew it was for the good of everyone else.”

“Ser Jaime…”

“But I remember the dungeon and asking you to never call me that name again. Because I couldn’t have my wife view me as a monster. I was ready to marry you and retire to Casterly Rock to help keep peace between houses and preserve the realm.

“I left with Brienne to try and give you Arya and Sansa and ask for an alliance with your King in the North. I am a knight and stood by honor, no matter what you think of me. What happened at House Frey was appalling and it will never make up for it but you must understand I am sorry.”

You couldn’t say anything.

“And now I am here to fight for the living because again it has always been about the realm. And when you defeat them, it won’t be done.”

“It will be.”

“No. You and your aunt will march on King’s Landing and take it from Cersei and I know you will win. I know that she will destroy the realm and you need to step fully into your birthright.”

“I’ve promised—”

“I don’t frankly give a damn what you promised because what I say is true. Daenerys will be bad for the realm, Cersei is bad, Robert was bad and so was Aerys. Rhaegar had a chance and now his daughter does. I failed in protecting the realm through alliances and marrying you. But I am still a knight, allow me to revive the realm and be in your Queensguard.”

“I’m sorry?”

You looked in shock as he bent the knee. Those around— including Tyrion, Danerys, Jon, Brienne, and Varys— looked in shock as well. Jaime glanced up at you. He was the same man from the dungeons. The one who kept your secret when he had nothing to gain from it, had more to gain by telling Robert the truth.

It made you wonder, did he plan on telling everyone when you two were married? When they couldn’t touch you because he was your husband? Because then the alliance would be stronger. The Lannisters, Targaryens, Baratheons, and Starks would all be connected through marriage. It would be harder to tear the realm apart when you tear apart family.

“You are still a Kingslayer,” you started.

Jaime hung his head, thinking nothing would work. You extended a hand and, with surprise, he took it to stand up.

“But when the king is a tyrant, that is a title to wear with honor. Because the only way you can bring justice to a king is through death so you did what had to be done. I can respect that.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Do you really want to be my Queensguard? It means staying here, in the cold.”

“I would like to be a knight again.”

“Alright, but Brienne is head.”

He nodded with a small smile. You looked around for Eddard, not seeing him or the other Starks. Dismissing Jaime, you continued to explore Winterfell’s preparations. The dead would be there soon. The cold suddenly became hot and you knew that you were near the blacksmith stations. The sounds of metal and glass clinking and clanking was also an indicator. Your feet continued to walk even without you consciously telling them where to go.

“Hi.”

The man looked up from his work with a snap of his head. Gendry gave you a half smile.

“You making the rounds? Seeing everyone you missed?”

You nodded. The silence was awkward. On your end, not Gendry. He kept working and waited patiently for you to speak while you were learning that, just like Eddard, you had to readjust to being in the company of people. Gendry let his eyes wander from his work back to your face. You stood straighter than he had ever seen— he was waiting, wondering when you would finally speak. Instead, you looked at the weapons plans on his table. You pointed to one of the designs on top.

“Is this for Arya?”

So this is how you would start talking— Gendry could work with that. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“She went to Braavos, became no one. No one in Westeros has a weapon like this or would think to use one. I know my younger sister.”

Gendry nodded in understanding. He watched you continue to thumb at the pages, eyes focusing on nothing and tongue occasionally darting out to wet dry lips. Everything became more interesting but him. Gendry pointed to your head.

“I like the crown.”

“Thank you, it’s from Valyria… How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Your Grace.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“It’s your title.”

“It’s a wall…”

Gendry watched the facade slip for a moment. He could see the reason you came over. Not just to check up on everyone you had missed. You would have moved on to find Theon or your sisters by now if that was the case. He took a chance and grabbed your hand.

“I missed you,” he cut you off. “When I had to leave for the Night’s Watch. I missed you coming to the blacksmith every other night. Talking to you. Unless you do not feel the same. If you don’t miss me we can forget this ever happened, Your Grace.”

“Didn’t I just say I don’t like you saying that,” you said, your tone joking.

“Would you like it better if I called you beloved? Do you remember when I used to call you that, when we dreamed of running away.”

The corners of your mouth dropped. “He used to call me that… this isn’t fair to you, I don’t know why I stopped by.”

You walked away. Gendry quickly rounded the table that separated you. He watched your head turn this way and that to try and stop tears from falling without wiping them away. Ever the ruler, you couldn’t let them see you cry.

He finally reached you as you reentered the castle. Jon’s dire wolf, Ghost, walked by with Sam but the corridor was empty aside from that. As if he could sense the tension, Sam quickly made himself scarce. Gendry reached for your hand and you stopped— you stopped and let him back you up against the wall.

“It is taking everything in me not to kiss you.”

“Please d…”

“I haven’t seen you in a few years but I don’t feel any different.” He gently stroked your cheek.

“I wanted to leave with you, spend my old life with someone I cared about. Then there was a chance to be with Robb and I took it because I thought everything was being taken from me that I deserved it. And then he was taken from me too. Robb is dead and I can’t seem to move on enough. It isn’t fair to ask you to try and go back to our time in King’s Landing. Not when I already have a child, when I can’t give you me entirely. Do you care that Eddard exists?”

“What? No.”

“Do you care that Eddard, Robb’s child, would be ahead in birthright and heir to Winterfell before yours would?”

“None of that matters.”

“The North will need for nothing between the alliance with my aunt and my travels to Old Valyria. Eddard is a true Stark and Targaryen, a legitimate claim for them. He is of both bloods so the Southern Realm couldn’t try to force the North to join them when I am gone. He might even join the Kingdoms and that doesn’t bother you?”

“You are being defensive. Talk to me as if you aren’t Queen in the North. Just tell me, what do you want? You, not the Queen.”

“Gendry…”

“Forget the entire Seven Kingdoms.”

“Gendry. Do you know how much loneliness eats at you? I’ve been alone before, in King’s Landing especially. But it was never lonely, those are two different things. I’m not alone anymore but you are a Baratheon and that would make me such… to protect the North, I must stay a Stark forever. It’s a name I’ve married into— and now it is lonely.”

“Then make me a Warden of the North. My father, in all my life, never made me a Baratheon. Queen Daenerys only did so to stop me ever considering usurping her. In your kingdom, you haven’t even legitimized a single person. I can be a Warden of the North, mark myself a Stark and never look back.”

You laughed a short huff of disbelief.

“You are suggesting taking my husband’s last name. Effectively, my last name? No man would ever agree to shed their own for their wife. You think you are okay with it now until they can’t remember you were ever a Baratheon.”

“You know, it’s actually I who wouldn’t be fair to you,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“In Daenerys’ kingdom, I am Lord Baratheon and I would tie you to the Six Kingdoms. The North wouldn’t be independent. Here, in your kingdom, I’m a bastard and can give you nothing— no lands, not much money. What I am is a man with no name and no banners. As Queen in the North to have your heart and nothing to give back is the real crime. That is why I wouldn’t be fair to you, not the other way around, Your Grace.”

“I thought I—”

“I will call you by your formal title, Your Grace, because that is what has to be done to keep a wall between us. You want to rationalize everything to try and convince me not to love you for your kingdom. To start, a wall around your heart and mine are needed.”

Gendry took off your crown and placed it in your hands. All you did was sigh as you stared at it and yet he could hear the weariness in your voice. He began to undo the braids that kept your hair in it’s half-up half-down style.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Shh…” His fingers worked quickly.

“I demand,” you started and Gendry had a small smile at the shakiness in your voice. “you not to call me Your Grace again.”

“You demand?”

“Yes, as your queen.”

Gendry smirked. “My queen?”

You let him continue what he was doing until all your hair was down. Gendry brought some of the white hair forward.

“There.”

“There what?”

“Now you aren’t my queen. You aren’t the Queen in the North, not a queen at all. Now you are (Y/N) Targaryen Stark. Your crown is off, your hair is down and you have no subjects to rule. I’m not looking at a queen but at a woman and I want to know what she wants.”

“To be selfish. To have the bastard in my kingdom who has given me his heart, even if there is nothing for the kingdom to gain from it. Gendry…” you whispered as he got closer.

He was already on you before he moved, now his body was flush up yours. Gendry pressed his forehead to yours and you two just stood there for a moment. His fingers traced down the front of your dress, noting the fastening clasps went down the entire garment. You sucked in a breath and he watched your eyes close under his touch. His left hand moved to rest on the small of your back. His other undid a single clasp. Your eyes opened when Gendry stopped, flitting down to where his hand disappeared in the small break of fabric. His fingers lightly touched you once and your hips bucked slightly.

“Please let me be selfish.”

His lips barely brushed against yours and then crashed onto them all at once. Your hand still holding the crown wrapped around the back of his neck while the free hand grabbed at his robes. Gendry pushed you more into him— the hand in your dress began moving. Your breaths came out shallow and Gendry stopped kissing you for a moment to just watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. Broken words came out between moans before he swallowed them with his own mouth— enjoying the softness of your lips.

“Your Grace—”

You and Gendry pulled apart quickly. Jon and his Night’s Watch friends— Ed, Sam, and Tormund— had their jaws dropped in mild shock. You turned around, in embarrassment, to close the open clasp on your dress. Your hand darted up to put your crown back on as you tried to forget what they had all just seen you less than decent. The crown was the best you could do, your braids were already taken down.

“Your Grace,” Ed said. “They’ve started planning for battle in the council room, we were sent to get you.”

“Right, of course. Where’s Eddard?”

“With my wife, Gilly, and son,” Sam answered.

You responded with a nod. You looked at Gendry out of the corner of your eye and started to walk off. The rest of the men followed you. Jon cleared his throat and you looked at him. His head turned back before facing the front again and a smirk appeared on his face.

“The blacksmith?”

You pushed him and that just made him and the others laugh more.

(Part 12)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #gendry x reader

113 notes · View notes

ladywinterwitch · 2 years

Text

Game Of Thrones (headcanon) - How you met

Game of thrones male characters x female reader

INCLUDES: Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Oberyn Martell.

Okay, my first GOT work! Yay! This is mainly a headcanon post about how you met these specific men of Westeros that kinda turned into very small one shots (maybe prompts for more idk?). Anyways, enjoy and let me know your thoughts if you feel like it, I'd very much appreciate it!

*PS: All of the prospectives will be from women as it's what I'm comfortable writing, as well as the men chosen, which are just the ones that I feel comfortable writing for. For example, you'll NEVER see me writing for characters like Joffrey or Ramsay. Might add Gendry Waters and Theon Grayjoy in the future but I don't promise anything.

Warnings: Language, use of the word whore, mentions and implications of sex, probably mentions of violence, nothing explicit though.

*y/h stands for your house.

Link to my main masterlist

ROBB STARK

You are the middle daughter of a small lord from the very south of the Riverlands, almost across the Westerlands 'territory, Lannister territory. His mother knew your family well, since they were sworn to his father lord Hoster Tully. The first time you saw each other, you couldn't have possibly remembered it, since you both were just newborns. It was just after the end of Robert's rebellion, when Robb's grandfather organized a feast to bid farewell to his daughter who would've left Riverrun for the North to join her new husband, lord Eddard. Your lady mother had given birth just a couple of weeks after lady Catelyn did, and when they met that day, blessings were exchanged but no one would've thought that you'd ever meet again. The reason that brought you to Winterfell was as simple as the lady of Winterfell needing new handmaids. Catelyn had specifically requested for her maids to come from the Riverlands, both as a sign of appreciation towards her native land, as well as possibilities for the young ladies to make connections with some of the great houses of the North.

So that's how it happened, on one of the coldest days you could have there up in Winterfell, snow falling delicately on the grounds and walls of the great castle. You being accostumed to a not extremely hot, but warm enough and quite humid weather, were definetly suffering from the freezing air of the North, so needless to say that the sight of the castle gates were an enormous relief. You and another four girls, all older than you of more or less years, dismounted from your horses with the help of the soldiers from the Riverlands that accompanied you on your jurney. Lord Blackwood, head of house Blackwood, was chosen by lord Hoster Tully as your official chaperon, therefore that's he who made the introductions to the Stark family.

"My lord, my lady." he nodded his head respectfully with a pleasing smile, face and nose bright pink for the cold, "It is a joy to bring you regards from your father, my lady."

The lady smiled politely and glanced quickly at her husband, the slightest humor in her words. "My lord, I am also very pleased to see you after all these years, and I'm sure you'll have much to recount me," she looked over at the shivering girls just a few steps behind him. "But perhaps you'll like to warm up first."

That being said, the four of you, lord Blackwood and the other ten soldiers who came with you were escorted in the great hall, finally away from the snow and instantly welcomed by a nice warmth. You sighed of relief lightly, still keeping your composure. Especially since as soon as you stepped into the room you were met with multiple pairs of eyes scrutinizing you. These eyes belonged to some people of the castle, as well as minor lords and ladies, and finally, to the Stark heirs themselves. From the oldest to the youngest they were lined up at the very top of the great hall, soon joined by their parents who stood next to them as they carefully observed how they behaved with the new guests.

"Lord Blackwood,my ladies, I introduce to you my sons and daughters. But I'll leave the pleasure to welcome you officially to Winterfell to my eldest son and heir. C'mon son." Lord Eddard spoke with warmth as he hinted at his son to step on with his arm. The tallest of the kids, as well as the oldest, walked in front of them, and nodded in acknowledgment to each, asking for their names. Except lord Tytos Blackwood, of course. Each of the girls curstied, introducing themselves. Then came you.

"Lady y/n of house y/h, my lord." you looked up as you stood straight and immediately met the young man's blue eyes. He looked back at you with a polite smile, and nodded sligthtly.

"Welcome to Winterfell lady y/n." he said, and just before walking back next to his parents, his lopsided smile turned into a very small smirk, and as he leaned his head just barely towards you, he goes "Don't worry, you'll get warmed up fast in here." Your mouth gaped imperceptibly as you blushed. He shut his own mouth to hide the smile and moved his gaze to his parents. You missed the curious look his mother gave him.

JON SNOW

The first time you met Jon Snow was in a small tavern, just a few hours of ride away south of the Wall. Benjen Stark, Tyrion Lannister as well as a few other men that were headed to the Wall, had encountered such bad and freezing weather that they had to take shelter, at least for that night. Let alone the wild animals wandering in the night. The Wall is actually in need of these men, Benjen thought. Also, for how much he did dislike the Lannister lord that had joined them from the King's visit in Winterfell, he still had to remember that he was a nobleman. If he had to be honest, he had endured the trip way better than he expected him to. Deep down he also wanted to give a little of a break to his bastard nephew, Jon Snow. He might not be a legitimate son of his brtother's, but at the end of the day he still lived more like a noble than a commoner. Jon was secretly glad of it, too.

A couple of men from the tavern came out to help them to secure the horses into the stable, and then lead them inside the tavern, which was definetly...warm. If it was because of the fireplace, or the drunk men making noise, Jon wasn't sure. Either way he didn't care, he just looked forward to sleeping on a bed for a night. His uncle already arranged the payment for four rooms; one for the criminal scum which were four men, one for the Lannister and his two guards, another one for two brothers of the night's watch, and the last one for himself and Jon. He reckoned that half of them would just spend the night drinking anyways.

Jon huffed and stroked his hands together in the attempt to warm up faster while he eyed an empty table at the end of the tavern. He walked there, in between drunk men and just enough women on their laps that didn't try to hide what their purpose was, and sat down on the wooden chair. He rested his eyes for a few minutes, just trying to cancel out the noise and enjoy the close by fireplace.

"My lord, can I bring you some ale?" a female voice, which in comparison to the rough and vulgar men that he traveled with for the past weeks sounded like a miracle, interrupted his alone moment, forcing him to open his eyes suddenly. And that's when he saw you. He was speechlees for a moment, taken aback by how pretty you were: your modest and not cleanest clothes surprisingly complimented your figure, your cheeks flushed with the heath of the ambient, hair messily wrapped at the back of your head to allow you to work better. He wasn't used to new faces in Winterfell, and especially not female ones.

Many soldiers, farmers, commoners and lords showed up just enough to do their business with the castle lord and lady and just left. And well, after that rough trip with criminals and ugly men, just seeing a woman, and such a pretty one at that, was just a sight to behold.

You raised an eyebrow, tightening slightly the grip on your wooden tray, suddenly nervous. Being the daughter of the tavern's owner and a commoner, you had to learn the hard way to not trust men sometimes. Therefore his silence made you nervous, even though you wouldn't have missed the chance to smack him with your tray if he became inappropriate. Most of the men in there were regulars, and learned to just enjoy their whores without bothering you, which ironically made them sort of your personal bodyguards.

"My lord..?" you tried again, and this time he cleared his throat and nodded, not saying anything. You narrowed your eyes slightly, understanding that this was just a young awkward man and not a creepy one, hopefully. Before you turned to go fetch the ale, he said something, almost too softly to be heard amid the noise.

"I'm not a lord." you stopped in your tracks, turned you head to him and smirked in amusement, "You still want that ale though don't you?" he raised both his eyebrows in surprise at your attitude and smiled.

"I- I, uh, yes. Thank you my lady." he stuttered. This time you chuckled, "I'm no lady either." he smiled in embarassment and just responded "Right." You walked away and he would've beat himself up for being such a boy if he wasn't too distracted to watch you walk away from him.

"Oof, you sure you want to miss out on that for the rest of your life, bastard?" he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard someone speaking to him. Or better, that he was caught. He looked to the side and saw Tyrion Lannister with a smug face, struggling just a bit to sit in the chair next to him.

OBERYN MARTELL

Yours and Oberyn's first meeting was everything except special. You were just another lady of a minor house from the Reach, following your higher born lady as she and her lord husband came to Dorne for affairs. What was different though, is that you weren't as young as the usual and definetly not as innocent or modest. He obviously wasn't there when the official welcome to Dorne was made, his brother lord Doran was. He was too busy sleeping late after yet another wild night with whores and exceptional wine. You did catch his eyes on the same evening dinner though. Your dornish dress just a bit too low on your chest, and your attitude just a bit too charming in comparison to other ladies. You weren't seated at the main table like he was, but you were close enough for him to know that you must've had some sort of importance.

Your table was actually the same one as his well known mistress, Ellaria Sand. A real scandal for a prince of Dorne to be associated so bluntly with a bastard mistress, let alone having bastard daughters together. But he just didn't care. And certainly he wasn't gonna start caring about other people's opinions that same night. His gaze wasn't supposed to be on you, but on Ellaria. And yet he got distracted, and quite taken by you. Everything about the way you carried yourself intrigued him, mostly because he wasn't used to seeing that kind of behaviour from someone who wasn't dornish. It's like you fit right in. Maybe you were from the south, he thought.

While lost in thought, he didn't move his eyes from you, and after a while, you did notice. Without a trace of nervousness or embarassment, you looked back at him. A small lopsided smile playing on your lips, head just slightly tilted to the side. Oberyn, pleasently surprised, mirrored your smirk and raised his cup just enough for you to notice. You nodded back in acknowledgement and then moved your attention. The prince did the same after a few seconds, not noticing the unhappy glance that his mistress gave him, clearly seeing that his attention got caught somewhere else. She wasn't usually jealous. She didn't have reason to be. Oberyn might've well fucked half of the men and women of Dorne, but they were all mostly one time things, or whores. Never another lord or lady. She trusted the affection that he had for her, but she didn't trust his cock driven mind as much unfortunately.

After the first courses were served, people started to dance and get out of their seats to converse. Oberyn decided that he needed to know more about this lady, so he stood up, but was soon stopped by his brother gripping his sleeve.

"Where are you going?" he murmured, looking up from his wheelchair. The dornish prince scoffed, freeing himself. "Where I usually go. To have fun." with that he walked away from the table, and nonchalantly joined the dance with a random lady, giving her a quick charming smile. He was focused on scanning the room to find another lady, though. He danced for a few minutes, and finally he saw you. You were standing near an older man who was speaking to you, clearly looking at your bosom and not your face. But you didn't seem to care, nor listen. Oberyn smiled to himself and swiftly exited the dances, confidently making his way to you. Posture straight, arms behind his back, relaxed.

"My prince." the old man interrupted himself to awkwardly bow to him. Oberyn raised a hand, dismissing him. "No need. I'd like to have a word with this lady." he said calmly, not taking his eyes away from yours. The man nodded silently, annoyed at the interruption and walked away.

"Prince Oberyn." you finally spoke. As he imagined, your voice dripped with confidence and femininity. He took your hand to his lips, not actually touching them.

"Enchanted. Lady..?" you smiled politely, answering with your name. "Which house are you from, lady y/n?" you shook your head.

"A small house from the Reach who isn't worth mentioning, trust me. I have more value as my lady's handmaid and friend than anything." you responded, without actually any sentiment except maybe some irony. The man nodded, looking you up and down.

"So you're not married I assume." and it was in fact a statement more than a question, but you decided to answer regardless. "You would be correct my lord. And to be honest I do not have any wish to take husband. Unless forced to, of course." your glimpse of a smirk was just pure irony.

"Why would a minor house lady not want a husband to secure her a good life?" he retorted, genuinely intrigued.

"My lord, life is so short. And I am a third daughter of five, of which the first is a man. I do not have notable connections, dowery, nor the wish to have a wealthier life than I already have. I'd rather enjoy the freedom that my position allowes me." the prince was satisfied with her words and definetly shared her mindset, even though he was actually a far more important person than she was socially speaking. But that's what you said right? You wanted to have fun. So he decided to offer you just that.

JAIME LANNISTER

Meeting you actually changed Jaime's life, for the better. You didn't meet on any event, or special occasion, it just happened. He was bored, hot and would've rathered to do anything at all except what he was supposed to do. Which was his round of guarding in the garden of the Red Keep on a boring humid and terribly hot day. His heavy armour was not helping, nor his long hair for that matter. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Same lords meeting in the same corners to either conspire or make deals, usually to pay some debts. Same noble women sitting on the patio, drinking fresh lemonade and gossipping. Same servants walking around, and so on. Everything terribly dull and ordinary.

At that specific point in his life, Jaime Lannister didn't think he could get more bored. Even fucking Cersei was becoming a little old at that point. Not to mention, her being always so bitter and complaining about her husband didn't please the kingslayer either.

At one point, as he turned a corner of the garden, he saw a lonely young woman, definetly highborn, he could tell by her fine dress. You were looking around, holding the back of your hand to your forehead in an attempt to soothe yourself from the heath, it seemed. You actually looked quite lost, out of place. Jaime, not having anything better to do, approached you.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" you turned quickly, a bit startled, but tried to play it off.

"Yes, quite, ser. I am not used to this type of heat I'm afraid." you smiled sweetly, squinting your eyes slightly, bothered by the strong light. Jaime smiled softly, feeling a bit sorry. You seemed way too sweet, he felt bad being his rude self for once. So he decided to make conversation, who knows, maybe he could have a little fun.

"I can see that. Are you not from here, lady..?"

"Y/n. Of house Y/h. I am from the Vale, ser." he shook his head slightly. He offered his arm to her. You looked at him uncertainly.

"Please, my lady. I would hate to see you melt in this horrible sun." you chuckled, a little embarssed but amused, and placed your arm under his bulky one. You started to walk back towards the Red Keep.

"I am afraid that I do not know your house, my lady. Is your family connected to court?" he asked politely. Your faced darkened, just slightly, but Jaime noticed. He didn't speak.

"No, ser. Not exactly. You see, mine is a small house. I am here as...a guest. Of lord Belmore." you didn't look at him as you spoke. He did know house Belmore, but he couldn't imagine of why they would have business in King's Landing, and honestly he didn't care. He was more curious as to why you seemed to speak of it like it brought you grief. He didn't think before speaking and blurted out a "Guest?"

You shifted uncomfortably next to him, licking your lips nervously. "Yes." At that point Jaime put two and two together and wanted to slap himself for being so unlikely naive for his standards. If she wasn't a highborn of a major house, nor she was lord Belmore's wife, but just a guest, what she truly meant was mistress. Whether she was happy about it, he wasn't that sure. Silence fell between them for a while.

"Thank you, for helping me. I was in fact lost, but didn't bother to admit it." she smiled timidly for a moment. Jaime smiled also, looking down, trying to stop himself from teasing her by saying 'You didn't have to admit anything' because she was just so transparent, and just settled with "Anytime, my lady."

After that, the silence fell again but this time it was actually peaceful. The kingslayer furtively glanced at the woman next to him, taking in her details. The blush on her cheeks, the slightly curled baby hair at the sides of her face from the humidity, the delicate layer of sweat on her neck, the way the corset underneath her dress pushed up her bosom, her relaxed lips. She's actually beautiful, he thought, and undestood why a man would choose someone like her to bring to the royal court.

When they reached the entrance of the castle, he delicately separated from her, and bowed his head in curtesy. "Do you need further help, my lady?" you shook your head with a sweet smile.

"No, you're too kind. You've been of great help. Thank you, ser?" his face fell for a split second, almost as if he'd forgot who he was for a second, and didn't really mind it.

"Jaime Lannister, at your service." your eyes widened but you quickly got a hold on yourself, bowing slightly to him. "Ser Jaime, I'm mortified." he frowned.

"Why would you be mortified my lady?" you stuttered a bit, "W-well, you're the brother of the queen, and I wasted your time with mere stupidity on my part. I apologize." he was so confused as to why you seemed so nervous and genuinely sorry. He took your hand and brought it to his lips for a second, making you look up.

"I am a King's guard. My job is to help. Whatever the problem is, my lady. You actually gave me a bit of distraction in this boring day, truly, do not apologize to me." he reassured you, his eyebrows in a comforting frown. That made you feel better, and decided that it was enough embarassment for one day, so you curtsied again and started to walk away.

"I hope to see you soon, lady y/n." you froze for a second at his words, and then kept on walking away.

TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion managed to sneak out from some highborn lord's wedding in King's Landing to treat himself to a good lay. He actually got Bronn to go with him, since you could never be safe enough around his sister. Not even in brothels an hour away from the Keep. It was a recent one he found, not too busy, quite hidden. He could tell he wasn't the only lord to go there, as well as not the only one who wanted some privacy. And best thing, the owner was a woman. Sure, he was smart enough to see behind her facade of fake politeness, but he knew that with his money she would've kept her mouth shut if asked.

That night Tyrion was just exhausted. His hundredth argument with his father put him in a bad mood, and all he wanted was to get drunk and maybe some attention. He gave Bronn some money, enough for both of them, because there was no way that that man would've just sat as a guard dog in a brothel. "One at a time, you bastard." he remarked, making the mercenary snort a laugh.

He got into one of the nice rooms, and took off his cape, boots, and vest, leaving him in just his shirt and breeches. He poured himself some wine as he watched outside the small window. The air in King's Landing was often suffocating by day, but the warm breeze of the night was rather enjoyable. He turned his head slightly, but not all the way, at the sound of the door closing in the room. "Good evening dear, how are you-" he turned and trailed off as he noticed that the girl standing near the door wasn't the usual one that was sent to him.

"My lord." she said, not moving an inch. Tyrion looked at her: she was beautiful. Young, but not too young. But something about her exuded sadness. She looked tired. Tyrion got instantly turned off, more in a 'It's one of those miserable nights for everyone' type of thing than a 'Shit, I don't wan't to fuck a sad girl' one. He sighed to himself and walked to sit on the bed, comfortable with his cup of wine. He waved his hand as to invite her next to him. You reluctantly walked towards the bed like an execution, and started to undo your corset's laces.

Tyrion rolled his eyes and stopped you "I meant sit, not undress. You clearly aren't in the mood anyway, so might as well have a chat." you frowned, dropping your arms to your sides.

"You won't pay me to talk." Tyrion shrugged, pursing his lips, just a little tipsy. "I mean, I already paid, so there's that. Now, sit."

You slipped back on your robe, wrapping it tightly around your bust, covering the half exposed breasts, and sat on the opposite side of the bed, still not comfortable. The Lannister narrowed his gaze, observing you.

"You're not a whore." it was more of a statement than a question. "Not by choice." you murmured, correcting him. He chewed the inside of his cheek, in silence. Then he moved, planning on getting his refill of wine, but his sudden movement made you flinch. He stopped for a second, "I am just getting up to get some more wine." he explained. You side glanced him but didn't respond, just slightly relaxed, and he took that as a sign to resume his actions. This time, when he was standing, he didn't go back to the bed, instead leaning against the wall, just next to the window.

"Whatever happened, I'm sorry." his tone was genuine. He just left it at that, he didn't imply nor necessarily asked for more information. Your lips quivered for a split second, then taking a deep breath.

"My lord what can I do for you?" you said, sadness and tiredness in your voice. Tyrion decided to dodge the question by simply doing what he does best, which is talking.

"You know, I've got a pretty shitty day too. If that makes you feel better." he smirked, taking a sip of his wine. You didn't respond, but neither told him to shut up so he took it as a good sign.

"I mean, look at me. I'm a dwarf. A a noble one at that. Pretty sure that if I wasn't I wouldn't be alive right now, which is definetly something that my father would love. Probably gets off it, that sick bastard." your mouth was agape, shocked both by his own self deprecating demeanor as well as the harsh words towards the man that's supposed to be his father. Tyrion looked at you and laughed.

"Oh c'mon, don't look at me like that. With that sad face that you have and the job that you do, I'm sure that you've had your fair share of men to call bastard too, am I wrong?" your face softened and the smallest smirk lingered on your lips.

"Ah, see? I'm right. I'm often right, actually." he glanced at the door and then back at you. "My personal guard, another cunt by the way, should be done in about an hour, I reckon. He's working with some of your..colleagues." he raised his eyebrows ironically.

"I'm sorry." you said, surprisingly with some sincerity. Tyrion shook his head, sighed, and clicked his tongue. "Nah. It's not like I don't come to brothels multiple times a week. My cock probably needed a break anyway. I can't fuck my way out of everything, unfortunately." his bluntness made you burst out laughing. You recomposed yourself pretty quickly, still being weary of getting too comfortable. You thought for a minute, and then just got up, slipping right out of your robe.

"You know what, funny lord? Fuck it. We both need it anyway." Tyrion huffed out a faint laugh and started to take off his shirt.

This is is for this post!

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minsyal · 1 year

Text

The Great Stone Knight, Pt. IX

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Warnings will remain vague and be for the work as a whole as opposed to each part individually: violence, death, assault, my shitty characterizations, explicit language, sexual content (will be noted), and having too good of a time reading this.

Masterlist

“How did you end up with the Hound?” The boy you had come to know as Gendry asked. He had been stuck at Arya’s side since you first met, though he was more open to the notion of the Brotherhood. You had on occasion overheard him telling Arya that he wished to join them, much to her dismay.

It had been only a single day since you last saw Sandor, and about the same amount of time since you had been outside. Beric had informed you that he intended on selling you to your father as his reward would be far greater than the Lannisters, but only after taking the road north west toward Riverrun where they would ransom Arya to her family.

“He helped me escape King's Landing.” You replied as Arya tightened her jaw and shook her head trying to dismiss the words that spilled from your lip. “He was my shield while I was captive in the Red Keep.”

“Do you love him?” Arya blurted out with a full mouth, the warmed bread in her hand was squishing beneath the force of her fingers that dug into its sides. “He’s a killer. I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.”

“Arya.” Gendry scolded, swatting in the air in front of her chest as if to blow away her attitude.

“What?” The contents of her mouth were on full display as her jaw fell slack. “He is.”

You sighed, not due to irritation. “I liked him.” The pop of your shoulders relaxed your tensed muscles as you craned your head from side to side. “Arya, I knew your sister.”

“Doubt it.” She was quick to deny your claim.

Her battle with you was rather one-sided. While she wanted to remain vehemently against every stance you took. she did find that you weren’t as insufferable as she initially judged. The minute she had seen you at Sandor’s side, and especially when she saw the way you tended to him, she decided that you were just as evil as he. She made a vow to herself that anything that you said was false and quelling your attempts to talk to her were the best option.

“No,” you disagreed, “I did know her. I was friends with her back in King’s Landing. She made me promise that I’d marry your brother, Robb.”

“Marry Robb?” The ridicule in her hiss was palpable. “He wouldn’t like you. You’re not his type.” Gendry shook his head, attempting to brush her words off with the gusty sigh that pushed past his lips.

The small canteen the Brotherhood had afforded you sloshed with water. It was full of dirt and sand that dragged down your throat in an unappealing and harsh manner each time you swallowed. From what you could tell, the Brotherhood lived fairly savagely. They were men of the shadows, consistently avoiding capture as part of their vow to protect the Riverlands. At the very least, they knew how to keep clean. Each man, while wearing stolen or old gear, kept some form of cleanliness whether it be in their teeth or nail beds. But it seemed that no man properly cared for every part of their body.

“I suppose that’s a good thing, then.” You swirled the water around, hoping to get the grit to settle to the bottom. “I don’t wish to marry.”

“But you were promised to the Mountain.” She retorted. “He talked about you when we were at Harrenhal.” Her frame was surprisingly haunting in the way she carried herself. The intimidation tactic was different, more imposing even with the lack of a proper weapon or height. Approaching you, she kept her brown eyes trained on your face, unblinking and distressing. “He talked about all the things he was going to do to you and he left no detail out.” Gendry tried to stamp out the fire she was starting with her words, but she paid him no mind. “He said he was going to bring an army into this world with you, and then once you’d given him that, he was going to kill you.” She ground her teeth. “He’d pop your head under his hands after he took your eyes out.” Arya was a well of knowledge. You couldn’t blame her for clearly not having a filter, but hearing Gregor’s plans for you weren’t any less chilling even with you miles away.

“Arya.” The boy grabbed at her sleeve and tugged her backward. Your shoulders slumped at her revelation. “Stop.”

“What? I’m just telling her the truth. Better to know how you’re going to die before it happens.”

She stomped off, wandering elsewhere in the Brotherhood’s caverns.

“She’ll come around.”

~~~*~~~

“You’ll regret that.” You watched as the woman in red disappeared through the lush greenery of the forest, riding away with a gaggle of men and Gendry in tow. Beric stood at your side, tall and towering above but not as tall as Sandor. “The girl has lost her father and now her sister. He was her family.”

“We do what must be done.” Beric turned his focus from their retreating figures toward you, the laser of his gaze burnt into your cheek. “We serve the Lord of Light, and the Lord of Light needs him.”

“So, if the Lord of Light needed one of you? Would you fall on your swords?”

Arya sauntered off, away from the group. Thoros moved to keep an eye on her along with a few others leaving you and Beric at each other’s sides. “Conceivably.” His hand landed on your shoulder, applying a firm grip as he shook you slightly. “She will move on.”

“She won’t.” You replied, finally losing all sight of the cart. “She will never forgive you.”

“Forgiving and forgetting are different things.”

“Same way you’ll forget us once you’re on a ship home.” The sound of crunching leaves and rustling branches announced Thoros’s entrance. He wore his usual bemused smile, lips pulled together tightly.

As Thoros moved to place his hand on your other shoulder, you shrugged both of them away and stepped out of the line the three of you had created. “How do you know that my father will give you anything? Did your silly god tell you that too?”

“We have to trust in one’s ambitions.” Beric noted, eyes trained on you as you swiveled your body to face their fronts. “Any father would be pleased to have the safe return of his child.”

“That’s a lot of faith in a man who is currently a year’s travel away.”

“I’m lucky that I am a man of faith, then.”

~~~*~~~

“Arya?”

The young girl was disturbed. Her sadness was blocked out by the hatred that blazed behind the irises of her gaze. Arya had screamed and slew threats to Beric, pushed at Thoros as he tried to calm her, and landed a kick to the groin to another man of the Brotherhood. She was on a rampage and nobody but herself could put an end to it. She sat with her knees to her chest, head buried beneath her arms. Tribulation wept from her distanced eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Her head jerked upward, hair flying in front of her face. “Do you think I’m alright?”

“No.” Hesitantly, you lowered yourself to her side. She tensed at the motion, retracting herself much like you did the day prior when Beric had done something similar. “I think you’re upset.”

She scoffed at the conclusion you drew, acting as though you were the dumbest person ever to have even needed to point it out. It was amazing how incredibly guarded she was for her age. It was apparent she had been through hell and back in the time she had been traveling from King’s Landing.

“Gendry seemed like a nice boy.” You hummed. Extending your hand, you offered her a piece of dried jerky given to you by one of the men. The salt from the meat flaked off onto your fingers, coating them in a chalky consistency.

She stared at the meat for a moment. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Being nice.” She cringed. “Noble ladies are only nice when they want something.”

Her dark outlook on the world eclipsed the brightness you wanted to bring her.

“Aren’t you a noble lady?” The narrowing of your gaze was playful and light.

She quickly retorted, “I’m not being nice, am I?”

“Do you have anything I could want?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps I’m just here to keep you company…Do you like stories? Sansa loved hearing my tales. I’m quite the story teller.” Your jaunt was made to enliven her spirits, but was shot down by the arrows she let fly.

“You’re going to tell me anyway.”

“You seem to already know me quite well.” Behind you, your arms outstretched to rest on the cooling dirt. Forearms supported the weight of your body as you extended your legs out in front of you. “In Antonia, we tell the story of the Great Stone Knight.”

“Is this a love story?” Having heard enough love stories to last her a lifetime, she was at her wits end when it came to the fictional tales. It was all Sansa wanted to discuss with her, and everything she never wanted.

“Of course not.” You responded, relaxing more until your head was against the ground. Arya was amused by the way you carelessly laid on the ground, pleased that you weren’t bothered by the dirt that covered your clothing. “The Great Stone Knight was the most valiant of the knights. Brave and gallant, they served our royals for years, though not as a guardsman. The knight was born into nobility, but they never wanted it. Their house was in the wintery mountain tops of the vast range that extends around our capital. She was our first female knight.”

“She?” Arya had eased the stiffening ends of her fingertips, loosening her posture as she decided the story was worth listening to.

“Yes, she. The Stone Knight wasn’t a fair beauty, she hated all your traditionally feminine virtues. Her father had named her younger brother the heir of their household instead of her. Which she did not argue. She didn’t want to deal with all the dull droll of running a town.” You thrumed your fingers against the thick leather of your overshirt, given to you by the men who had extras. “So, she left. She ventured south to our capital and stood before the king, swearing fealty as she requested a knighthood. The king laughed in her face and demanded she leave his presence. He wanted her as a kitchen maid. Angered and appalled at his behavior, she swore that one day she would cast this king down from his holiness. She would show him what she could do.”

“How old was she?” Arya had reclined at your side now. Her arm brushed against yours as she got closer so as to not miss a word of your tale.

“She was six and ten when this happened, but she had been training with a sword since she was ten.” With a deep sigh, you continued. “Anyway, she was mad and rightfully so. He hadn’t even let her show him her abilities. He and his council mocked her and told her to return home. Outside the city gates she plotted. At every tourney we had, she would show up in a suit of armor of silver and black. She won every time, defeating even the best of the best. At the victor's ceremony, she would never take her helm from her head… I believe that is where she got her name. Stone Knight. She never talked at these tourneys, and the color of her gear resembled that of a stone wall.”

“Why wouldn’t she show them who she was?” She was growing frustrated with the story. “Wouldn’t winning show the king she was worthy?”

“She always felt it wasn’t worth it. She had won a tourney, but the victor's ceremony was afterward. If she had taken her helm from her head then, they would claim her to be a false knight. So she continued on. She lived in the city in the poorest district. She would spend her evenings training the young boys and girls alike, happy to teach anyone who wanted to learn.” You opened your eyes, focusing on the fading blue sky as the sun began its descent. “When the Battle of Valverme happened, it is said that monstrous creatures flooded the country. The king led his armada east to quell the danger, but even he was no match for the beasts that invaded. He regrouped and formed a new army. This one was larger and greater than the one before. Once again, he lost. As he gathered a third army, the Great Stone Knight showed up. She walked, fully armored, past their camps and straight for the darkness that lurked in Valverme. The king warned the knight, insisting that they wait. It was too dangerous! Surely the knight would perish as so many others had.”

“What were the beasts?”

“Well.” You racked your mind, bringing up any tales of fabled creatures you had heard of when you were a child. “Some were human-like, but blood thirsty and cannibals. Their hair was so grown that it grew into the skin of their arms and legs. Some were like bears with five sets of sharpened teeth. There were birds as big as,” you pointed at a tree that soared into the sky, “that tree with claws that acted like cages. They could spit an acid that melted flesh. Nonetheless, they were horrible disgusting monsters. I would be afraid of them, but the knight was not. She entered the cloud of darkness, strolling fearlessly into the face of danger. In her hand, she wielded a sword that entered as a color of silver. Suddenly, the curtain of darkness cracked. Large lines extended from end to end as her battle cry echoed throughout Antonia. It shattered like glass, the dark, and crumbled to the ground. When the debris and smoke cleared, there she stood. Her helm had broken in two, but her sword suddenly glowed in a white magnificence.”

“They all knew she was a woman then.”

“Aye, they did. The king was at a loss for words. He looked like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth. Words could not come to him. She smiled at him and he recognized her as the girl who swore fealty and knelt before him years before. For the first time, the king knelt to someone else. He immediately offered to knight her, but she didn’t want it anymore. She had proven her point.”

“But you said she was the first woman knight.”

“Oh.” You smiled. “She was. He knighted her anyway and offered her anything she could ever want as repayment.”

“What did she ask for?”

“Freedom. She asked for a stocked ship and a crew. The next day, she set off to travel the world and rid it of darkness. Some say she still sails the seas of Antonia, protecting the waters and training anyone who wants to learn. She never returned home, but I think that home isn’t where we were born, but rather where we make it.”

The Brotherhood continued on their forward march in their efforts to keep the riverlands Lannister free. Their travels toward Riverrun were being planned and the men paid no mind to the brooding Arya who sequestered herself at the edge of the group, sitting at your side. She was still mad. She had told you how they sold Hot Pie off, and now Gendry. At least she would be sold to her family, but the more she thought about it, it did bother her that your fate would likely lie on the same page as Gendry’s.

“You said you knew Sansa.” Arya broke the silence between you as the sounds of men speaking were muffled with your own voices. “Prove it to me.”

It was dark out now, the light worshipers had engulfed themselves in fire as each man held a torch of their own. The heat was almost unbearable, but none of them seemed to notice. “She loves to play games and hear stories.” You recounted one she particularly liked having to do with the ships that sailed in the harbor. “She’s quite tall, taller than I am at least… She told me a lot about you. You’re good with a bow, you had a direwolf named Nymeria, hers was Lady, and you had dancing lessons every morning while in Kings Landing. Though, I don’t take you for the dancer.”

“I was water dancing.” She perked up at the mention of the activity, her proclivity for distancing herself subsided as she recalled happier times. “It’s sword-fighting. My teacher was the best swordsman to ever live.” The apples of her cheeks rounded in the flickering of firelight as a smile pulled at her lips.

“What was his name?”

“Syrio Forel. My father arranged the lessons… they’re both dead now. Killed by Meryn Trant and Illyn Payne.”

“Meryn Trant killed a friend of mine as well.” You hesitantly reached out to place your hand over hers, giving her enough time to react. “I’m sorry they’re gone… You know, my father would never let me train. He said training was for boys.” Swatting your hand dismissively into the air, trying to push away the sadness that loomed overhead. You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. “Would you show me how to water dance sometime?”

Lighting up, she nodded and picked up a stick from the ground. “I can show you now.” She found another and handed it to you. A hand was pressed stiffly against her lower back as she readied the other arm with the stick. “Hold it like this.”

You followed, much to her amusement as you held it in a way she disapproved of. The first genuine smile you had seen from her was radiant, glowing brightly in the darkness of the night. “No.” She dropped her arms and grabbed your hand, opening your palm. “Like this.”

She readied herself again and nodded. The stick swung across your front, blocked by your own as she made to attack from another angle. It hit your leg, stinging as it whipped against your skin. “You’re not very good at this.”

“It’s my first try! Maybe you’re just not the best teacher.”

A small laugh escaped her lips as she held her stick back up but instead of another round, she was interrupted by Thoros who had riled up the men. “Come on, Lannister men were spotted south of here.”

“Lannister? You said I was to be sent home.” She threw her arms down and dropped the stick.

He tilted his head. “Plan’s change.”

“What about Riverrun? It’s not south, it’s west of here.”

Berric joined the party, added his two cents as Arya began to fume. “It will still be west of here two days from now.”

“You swore.”

“To take you home, and I will. But we need to do this first.”

“You said you would send me to my father.” You argued, joining her at her side discarding the stick.

“We have to seize each opportunity we have. Unfortunately, this is just how the world is.”

“How the world is?” Arya’s voice raised as her hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. “You’ll send her to her death! They’ll kill her!”

“I swear to you-”

“I don’t care what you swear because you’re a liar. You lied to Gendry, you lied to me, and you lied to (Y/n). You’ll lie to anyone. I hope the Lannisters kill you all.”

“One day you’ll understand, but now-”

In a flash, Arya grabbed your hand and pulled you away from their camp. Her grip was deathly and she refused to let go as your touch was the only thing telling her that you still followed behind. The ground was uneven, and in many places you had to plant your foot firmly into mud to keep your balance. Vines and weeds hung from the trees, acting as arms that continually thrashed you backward in their efforts to slow your pace. The Brotherhood marched behind, calling out continually and loudly as their torches gave away their positions.

Water trickled from the stream that moved iridescently from a spring that bubbled from the ground below. She tugged you into the water, soaking your boots through and your pants to your knees. Arya’s huffed and gasped for air as she desperately ran, dragging you in tow. Pulling you down to crouch behind a tree, she peered around its trunk and caught her breath. “You’ve got to run faster.” She scolded in a whisper before bolting again, this time avoiding the muddy ground in favor of hopping across the hardened roots of a cluster of trees.

It was only when you made it to a small clearing did she finally decide that you had lost the Brotherhood. Her chest heaved as her shoulders moved up and down, her hand covered her mouth in an attempt to keep her huffing quiet.

The moonlight eerily crept through the vines that tangled within the tree branches, casting twisted shadows upon the forest floor. A light fog had rolled in hanging just above eye level, obscuring your distance vision. Arya’s eyes were wide and wild. Her pupils had dilated, the brown almost entirely turned to black.

“Over there!” A man’s voice hollered as the burning torches came back into view.

She gathered your arms in hers once more, powering furiously as she wove her way through the trees. You dodged each branch, holding tightly to her hand so as to not lose her in the foliage. The yelling could be heard behind you still, though it was muddled in the static of the night. Rustling in front of you stilled her in her tracks. The tree branches moved unnaturally as a darkened figure approached from the darkness.

“No!” Arya yelled, turning to run backward, only to slam flat into your chest. You retained your grip on her hand, holding it tightly against her struggles as she tried to pry her fingers from yours. “Come on, we can’t go with him!” She slapped at your stomach with her freed limb, refusing to look at Sandor as he came fully into the clearing. “We can go to Winterfell! You can marry Robb!”

“Arya!” You reared her forward into you, wrapping your other arm around her shoulders as you forced her to look you in the eye. “He is our safest bet right now. They’re coming for us. We must move.”

She pressed her lips together and looked behind you. Still, though, she continued to fight. Dismissing her fit, Sandor approached fully and slipped his hands under her shoulders. Her hand fell from yours as she redirected her fight, kicking her legs and tearing her fingers at his forearms. “Kick all you want, wolf girl. Won’t do you no good.”

He turned, still carrying her, and nodded his head for you to follow. “Best get moving. Beric won’t stop looking til’ he finds you both.”

An hour of walking put some space between yourselves and the Brotherhood. With Stranger secured to a tree and Arya calmed from her initial upset, you were finally granted a moment of rest. Laying on his back, fully dressed in his armor still, Sandor kicked his leg over the other. Arya rested a few feet away, curled into a ball with her knees tucked up to her chin.

“You left me.” You picked at the dirt that had maneuvered its way beneath your nails with the edge of a knife that Sandor had kept in his saddlebag.

“Had to.” He said without opening his eyes. “Could have stayed at the inn. Would have found you there.”

Dirt smeared against the leg of your pants as you wiped the tip of the knife off. “You told me they were going to kill you. How could you have found me if you died?”

“Didn’t die though.” A breathy titter passed though his lips. “Big fucker, hard to kill. Told you that once. I came back, didn’t I?”

“You did.” You chided. “Why?”

“Not theirs to sell.” He said resolutely, as if it were something so clearly painted in the sky.

“Of course.” He could taste the bitterness of your tone the second the words scoffed past your lips. The knife was dropped at your side as you reclined onto your back at his side. “You almost had me thinking you cared.”

Though dissuaded at the idea of traveling with the Hound, her sworn enemy as far as she was concerned, she was subdued when she considered that you would be traveling with them. Sandor had taken a place on the ground, walking with Stranger’s closest rein in his hand, steering the steed. Arya was sitting atop the horse in front of you, uncomfortable but happier than if it were Sandor behind her. It was the better part of a morning now that you had been back with Sandor, and only a few days that you had been separated. She was quiet as you rode, unsure of what to say as she no longer felt at odds with you.

“You said you liked him.” She looked to Sandor who kept his focus straightforward. “Then are you together?”

Arya shifted to throw her legs over one side of Stranger, using your outstretched arm as a backrest to keep her from falling backward. She looked, and acted, nothing like her elder sister. Sansa was so proud of her refined grace and womanly attributes. Arya was crass and blunt. Her features were strong, her face framed by short-cut dark brown hair. She was smaller in height and stature, but had broader shoulders and a well built frame.

“No. We aren’t.”

“But you like him.” Arya insisted, enjoying the way she got beneath your skin. “He doesn’t like you, though. Does he? Why do you stay with him then?

“Where else am I to go?”

“Home, maybe.” She swiveled around again and looked outward. In the distance was a vista view of a branching river. Its white water rushed quickly, bringing with it a healthy breeze of refreshing crisp air. “Where are you taking me? Is that the Blackwater?”

“The Blackwater?” He scoffed. “Where do you think I’m taking you?”

“Back to King’s Landing to Joffrey and the queen.”

“Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the queen. That’s the Red Fork. I’m taking you to the Twins.”

“But why?”

“Because your mother and brother will be there and they’ll pay me for you.”

“Why would they be at the Twins?”

“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countryside is yapping about it. Your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. So quit trying to bash my skull in and we might just make it there in time for the wedding.”

Writer's Note: It's gonna ramp up from here. Sorry to the vegetarians/ vegans because we're about to get into the MEAT of the writing in the next few parts ✌🏼

Tag List (HMU if you want to be tagged):

@madameasbjorn @yaskna @xakilicious @waifu4lifeu @peaked-in-third-grade @underatreedrinkingtea @bra1nr0t-for-lasquadra@dreamgirljere @fortunatelyfadingkingdom @bennysimps @supervalcsi@darylssluttt @grcnseer @strawberryoverkill

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #sandor clegane imagines

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damn-stark · 1 year

Text

Chapter 14 Ice & fire

Chapter 14 of Sandstorm

A/N- Stop this my favorite chapter, and the next one will be so good and full of fluff too.

Warning- Violence, blood, swearing, talks of death, fluff!, talks of birth, long chapter, and there’s changes that depart from the show!

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS LATER*

Hints of smoke filter the room as the candles are brought to life, basking the room and the altar with its yellow dancing hue.

It’s hard, but you manage to get on your knees on the pillow and slowly look up at the portrait of Rhaenar. “Hello my boy,” you whisper as if he were here. “Sorry I didn't come last night, I,” you scoff softly. “Couldn’t stay awake,” you laugh softly and drop your gaze as you clasp your hands together. “I’ve come to update you, all the forests at Storm's End are finally burnt, no tree means no ships. This morning the soldiers managed to completely cut off all food from coming in and out of Storm's End as well. Let’s see how King Gendry handles this problem.”

You sigh deeply and look up at his portrait; the only way you can see his face ever again. “Thanks to the Riverlands alliance and the Reach we’ve managed to reach King’s Landing borders, we have them surrounded. It’s been a short war, but well she hardly has any allies here…she’s just stubborn….” you trail off and groan as a a dull but irritating pain radiates throughout your lower back. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m in good hands here with Jon…I’m grateful he’s with me. He doesn’t leave my side now that the babies are due any week. He…” you swallow thickly and smile softly. “He’s kept my anger in check. Oh! And Helios left now, last night, he’s on his own now. Hopefully, I’ll see him again.”

Your smile then falters and tears fill your eyes, but you hold them back and instead offer him a happy smile. “That’s all for tonight, I’ll return tomorrow. I love you.” You linger in front of the altar for a moment longer before you try and push yourself up. However, the huge belly you now have forbids you proving Jon right; you do need him by your side all the time now.

“Ser Podrick,” you call out to the Knight standing outside the door. “May you come help me up? I believe Jon is right.” You look back and expect the door to open right away, but there’s no sound of metal armor brushing against each other, there’s no hurried footsteps as the kind knight tries to hurry to do as commanded, there’s silence.

“Ser Podrick?” You call out again. You wait, but nothing. “Okay,” you breathe out and now drop your head to try and get up yourself.

It’s a struggle, definitely, but you start to move up to your feet. The door then creaks open and you scoff breathlessly. “I’ve done it, Ser Podrick, no need to help now.” You smirk proudly and peer back, and that’s when you notice that the man hidden under a cloak is not Ser Podrick, or anyone you know; and you know that because you’ve made sure to take in all the faces of the soldiers that fight for you, everyone that lives in this castle and or is temporarily staying. This man is a stranger.

You try to reach for your concealed blade, but the man snatches your wrist and shakes his head. “No,” he says in an accent you’ve only heard across the sea and…with the Unsullied. She sent him.

You try to fight back and use your knee to hit him, but you can’t move your leg that far at the moment, so you instead stumble back and hit the altar. You try to reach for a candle, but then another man barges in and he quickly makes sure to cover your mouth and nose with a cloth that makes you lightheaded for a second, before darkness follows as you fall unconscious.

——

*JON*

The view of the stuffed wolves shifts as it tilts to the side. “Damn,” he hisses under his breath and reaches over to sit it up again and tilt it again so it can stay seated like the other one on the other cradle.

Just now a small package had arrived from Old Town, Sam had sent presents for the unborn twins; two black stuffed wolves. And Jon wanted to surprise you, but there was one defiant stuffed wolf that wouldn't stay up.

“Fuck it,” he gives up and leaves the one wolf on its side. He however does stay in front of the cradles and watches them even if they lay empty for now. A knock albeit then raps on the door, interrupting his quiet moment.

“Come in,” he addresses the visitor.

The door opens and footsteps walk in past the door, he turns and sees Ser Brienne, and the other six Queensguard Knights and Ser Jaime outside the door with worried expressions that make him falter.

“Your Grace,” Ser Brienne interjects and averts her gaze. “It’s the Queen…”

His eyes widen and a smile begins to tug on his lips as he thinks that you went into labor.

“….she’s gone,” Ser Brienne finishes, causing Jon’s smile to fall and panic and disbelief to paint over his face—“she was taken. Ser Podrick was put down by some kind of sleeping effect. I’m sorry, I will go on horseback and try to follow the trail of the abductors.”

Jon drops his eyes and stumbles back. “How…how could you let this happen?” He spats. “Why wasn’t there more than one guard with her?!”

“She went to the altar within the castle grounds, we never thought they’d take her from here. I’m sorry.”

Jon exhales and turns around as he shakes his head before he knocks the pitcher of water and cups off the table out of anger for them, your Queensguard, and himself for not disobeying you and staying by your side.

“We think that the abductors were probably undercover, or hiding and preying on the Queen from the shadows.”

Jon scoffs and then abruptly picks up his sword to storm out of the room. “Ser Brienne, you and two others of the Queensgaurd hurry and try to catch up to the abductors trail, two of you can stay with me,” he immediately commands. “Ser Rayne, have the castle locked down, no one leaves or comes in. Wake up the members of the small council have them convene at the hall, rally up the soldiers to get ready to march out.”

“One more thing,” Ser May adds. “There were two soldiers; an Unsullied and what we assume to be one of the Second Sons soldiers caught trying to escape the castle.”

Jon’s eyes snap to the woman knight and the corner of his lips curl. “Where?” He asks.

“We tied them up outside in the courtyard. Your sister, Lady Arya, is watching them.”

Jon nods and quickens his footsteps to head out to the courtyard first.

“If I may,” Ser Jaime cuts in and hurries up to catch up to Jon’s side. “I would like to accompany Ser Brienne and the Queensguard. I owe the Queen my life, let me help.”

Jon looks at Ser Jaime and then glances at his golden hand. The Knight notices and counters.

“I’m not whole, but again, I owe her my life. And…I made her and her father a promise. I might’ve failed before, but I won’t now. I’ll find her, protect her and your children.”

Jon’s hesitant, he only wanted the best after you, but if he wants to go then he can’t stop him. “Fine,” Jon says. “Go.”

Jaime offers Jon a nod before he and the others depart and hurry off to do as said. Once Jon makes it outside, Tyrion joins his side. “If I may—”

“You cannot,” Jon cuts him off. “For all I know you were the one that let in those people that took Y/N. Actually I should have you arrested. Ser Lana, take him to the cells, I’ll think of what will happen after I’ve brought back my wife.”

The Knight right away grabs Tyrion and pins his arms back, but he still manages to cut in with more words that begin to irritate Jon. “It’s smart to lock me up. I don’t have anything to do with it and only just found out as I saw your sister torturing the soldiers, but you won’t get an answer from the unsullied. Nothing will make him talk.”

Jon stops and turns on his heels to talk back. “I don’t need him to talk.” Jon clenches his jaw and gives him his back to continue towards the courtyard.

When he gets there he sees the two men tied back to back, both of them are bleeding but only one of them looks affected by the torture afflicted.

“Have either of them spoke?” Jon asks Arya.

Arya stands up straight and shakes her head. “No. Not yet, but they will.”

Jon shoots a glare at the unsullied. “Only one will,” he deadpans before he snatches the collar of the Unsullied’s chest armor and begins to drag him out towards the gate. “Bring the other one,” he commands Arya.

And without question or hesitation his sister obeys and trusts his actions, letting him feel thankful for that at this very moment.

“<You’ll die screaming in flames,> the Unsullied spats in Valyrian probably thinking that neither Jon or Arya can understand, but thanks to you he was learning and understood every word.

It’s why Jon stops in his tracks and drags the Unsullied around to be able to face him as he counters back venomously. “<After you.> He rolls his eyes ahead and continues to drag the man out, the gates open without him needing to say anything, and there in the darkness that blanketed the hill ahead lands a green beast. Due to the cloudy night he’s not seen, but his thunderous footsteps are heard before his blazing bronze eyes appear ahead, they begin to narrow as he begins to growl.

Jon walks towards Rheagal and leaves the Unsullied soldier there on the ground, before he steps back and clasps his hands in front of him. And without hesitation, remorse or a moment to ask questions, Jon says those menacing words. “<Dracarys>”

Rhaegal breathes out fire over the soldier, swallowing him in flames within seconds. The intense heat hits Jon, but he doesn’t move, he stands in front of the flames and watches the soldier begin to squirm, clench his jaw but eventually scream out when he couldn’t handle the flames eating at his flesh and bones. Jon watches the flesh melt off his bones before nothing is left but black burnt bones.

When all that moves is the flames Jon slowly turns around and faces the other soldier with a burning glower on his face. Rhaegal approaches Jon to be beside him, and growls at the soldier without needing to say anything. And this one soldier, unlike the other one, is visibly shaking, sweat beads roll off his face, and a foul smell begins to come off him as he just keeps his eyes on the dragon beside Jon.

“Please,” the soldier begs under Aryas grip. “Please. Mercy.”

Jon stomps towards the soldier and assures him in an angry filled tone. “My dragon won’t eat you, but only if you tell me where they took my wife.”

The soldier swallows thickly and slowly slides his eyes to Jon. He hesitates for a moment but his fear takes control and he can’t help but betray the Queen he was meant to be fighting for. “Harrenhal, Queen Daenerys asked to bring her to Harrenhal. That’s all I know, I swear, please…mercy. I’ll fight for you.”

Jon lets out a deep breath and without needing to say anything Arya pulls out her dagger and slices the man’s throat, killing him instantly. “Let Rhaegal eat him,” Jon grumbles before he sets towards the great hall.

When he’s inside all the members are already there, most of them are not as collected as usual because of how late it is, but they’re there and all go quiet as Jon strides in with his jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed. Arya follows behind with her chin raised high, and they notice you’re not leading the way or behind them, providing even more confusion.

“I know the hour is late, my lords and ladies,” Jon addresses everyone when he’s on the platform facing them. “But a dire situation arose, the Queen, my wife,” he sighs and clenches his fists. “Was abducted.”

Murmurs spread around the room and Sansa gets up from her chair, losing her smile as she thought you were having the babies.

“Queen Daenerys sent some of her men undercover to take her when she was visiting her son's altar,” Jon shares with them. “No one was killed during the act, and the Queensguard did manage to find two who had fallen behind. I killed them already after I got information from one of them. They’re taking her to Harrenhal. ”

“How did they sneak in and not get detected?” Sarella demands to know. “Why did her guards not stop them? That’s why they’re there!”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, “but they couldn’t, or at least that’s to my understanding, Ser Brienne said Ser Podrick was put to sleep that’s how they took her.”

“Where is Ser Brienne?” Elia asks. “And that dwarf? It was probably him, he was probably her spy, that's why they got in without getting noticed.”

The others quietly agree, and Sansa can’t defend him now because she might be right.

“Ser Brienne, and Ser Jaime and three others from the Queensguard went after the abductors. Lord Tyrion was placed under custody by me just now,” Jon shares. “He’ll remain there until after I return with Queen Y/N, after that we will decide what to do. As to how they got in?” He pauses and shakes his head. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I will get her back. Daenerys seems to be getting desperate, she knows she can’t hold Kings Landing without allies, winter is cruel and she can’t feed the people she wants to protect. She’s losing but doesn’t want to fail, it’s probably why she took the Queen, she probably wants us to surrender for her return, and if…y/n gives birth then she’ll use the children as leverage as well. But I won’t give up,” Jon adds and exhales deeply.

“I won’t lose y/ns fight, nor will I lose her, I will bring her back home and we’ll take that throne. Daenerys wants this war to come to an end, so we’ll give her what she wants.” Jon spats menacingly.

“Arya,” he names and the girl straightens up. “Sarella,” he adds, causing her to lift her chin. “Ser Davos, Lord Royce, you will lead the attack on the ground. They may have the numbers, but they’re on our lands, we know our lands, Daenerys doesn’t, we have the advantage. I will ride on Rhaegal and fight Daenerys and Drogon, keep her away from the armies while Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime and the Queensguard find y/n,” he continues, “we will find y/n and bring an end to this war.”

“What about me?” Elia interjects and jumps to her feet. “What will I do? It’s my cousin that they took, my sister, I can help.”

Jon’s gaze drifts to the girl, he knows she’s good on horseback, probably better than he is, but no matter how skilled she is he can’t bring himself to risk her life….and well Sansa does need people here to help her in case Daenerys wants to attack while the armies are marching elsewhere.

“Stay here,” Jon shares with the girl, already noticing her disbelief and annoyance. “Help Sansa keep the castle safe. That’s your job.”

Elia parts her mouth to argue back but Sarella pulls her back and whispers something to her, bringing silence and no other objections.

“Bran, if you can…see where Eraxis is, we might need her in battle,” Jon adds as he steps down the steps. “As for everyone else, fight, win, and don’t die, your Queen depends on it. Now let’s bring Queen Y/N back.”

——

*LATER. YOU*

The sound of booming thunder startles you awake. Is it storming outside?

You slowly sit up, and immediately that daze that took you captive and made you believe you were home disappears as you notice the small stone room you’re in.

That’s right…you were taken by Unsullied, by Daenerys.

Where did they bring you?

The room smells humid, thanks to the light provided by the single dancing flame eating away at the torch, you notice moss growing between the creaks of the wall. There’s only one window, but it’s far too high for you to see through. There’s one tiny bed, and a vase of water on the wooden nightstand, nothing else resides in this room besides that.

What’s her plan with you?

“Hey,” you call out and slide off the bed to stride towards the door. “Hey.”

There’s no answer.

“Hey!” You yell out louder and begin banging at the door. “Where am I? Where’s Daenerys! Tell her to come and stop being a fucking coward!” You pound both fists on the door, but receive no answer, so you turn and glance at the window; it’s far too small for you to escape out of with the belly, even if you didn’t have it, it would still be far too small. But it can give you insight about where you are.

Yet…there’s nothing for you to use to climb on and see through it, damn it!

You turn back around and begin to pound on the door again. “Tell me why I'm here! Bring her!”

Nothing again. You don’t have weapons to use. Damn. So there’s nothing left to go but keep hitting your hand against the door to annoy them and hopefully get an answer. Several minutes pass before finally through the sound of heavy rain multiple footsteps begin to approach the door. You back up expecting them to open the door, but instead the panel from the door's small window opens, and Daenerys' face appears.

“You should be resting,” she says, that’s the first thing she tells you after what she did—“it’s not safe for the babies—”

“You should let me out,” you cut her spitefully. “Or come in here. Let's see how good it goes for you.”

Daenerys scoffs. “I’m no fool, I know that the moment I walk in there you’ll try and kill me, as you know I have someone I have to protect now too.”

You clench your jaw and glare at her.

“You won’t be hurt,” she adds. “But you won’t be let out either.”

“Jon will come,” you sneer. “He’ll get me out.”

A sly smirk tugs on her face before she retorts. “I’m counting on it, but you can save him from the fate that he'll meet today. Bend the knee, you’ll be pardoned and get to live your life with your children wherever you want. Don’t, and lose him and all those that come after you.”

You swallow thickly and rather than seeming upset, defeated and give into submission, you lean forward and hold her gaze with a burning glare; even if inside your heart was beginning to tear at the thought of losing the one person that mattered to you now, the only person keeping you together, Jon.

“Kill him,” you snarl. “And I will kill you after I carve out that damn baby out of your stomach.”

Daenerys blinks in disbelief.

“Ask me,” you retort with a mischievous smirk even if you begin to feel a sharp cramp on your lower stomach. “Ask me how it is that you were able to get pregnant.”

Daenerys stiffens and her jaw clenches. She doesn’t reply so you continue.

“It was me. I was the one that reversed that witches spell. You should be on your knees thanking me you fucking bitch. Now, ask me why I did it.” You snicker.

Daenerys lifts her chin and looks at you with a gaze full of tears. She backs away and the panel then closes, blocking out the view of her tear covered eyes.

So she has you here as a trap to lure Jon and everyone else here? She wants to kill Jon now too?

No…not him. Anyone but him. If he dies…what else is there? What—

Again there’s a sharp cramp on your lower stomach and back. This was a lot more painful, it rattles your entire being.

The babies?

You twist around and look around panicked, no ounce of anger lingering behind, no hate for Daenerys, nothing but worry. Thunder claps in the sky, causing your shoulders to jump and more pain to attack your body.

But you’re here, stuck in a cell without Jon, they can’t come yet. Not yet. You’re all alone here, without even your dragon to keep you company. They can’t come yet—

More pain hits you and this time water pours out of you and runs down your legs and hits the stone floor. “No,” you murmur with tears in your eyes. “No. Not yet, please.”

Yet you have no word on the matter, they’re coming fast.

You try to lay on the bed, but the pain becomes insufferable, it makes you restless and doesn’t let you keep quiet anymore, you begin to grunt, groan and cry out as the first baby begins to come out fast. It’s not like before either; and maybe it’s due to the fact that you had your sisters, midwives and maesters with you, but this time the pain of labor is worse.

So much so that without you knowing Eraxis even feels the suffering you’re under, unbeknownst to you Jon had come across her on his way to you and he heard Eraxis cry erupt in the sky. He however doesn’t know why she screeches, he thinks it’s because she knows you’re missing. She might miss you, that’s what he thinks.

But no, you were under withering pain, covered in sweat and squatting on the ground.

“Come on!” You bellow out and then cry. “Get out!”

Thunder keeps erupting in the skies, sometimes it drowns out your cries, but sometimes it seems you’re louder.

A few minutes, or hours later who knows, just as Thunder roars in the sky, out slides the first baby after your last push.

“Oh,” you gasp softly and shakily lift the baby up in your arms, noticing that the first one out is Rhaenyra. She’s so tiny, so red and beautiful.

Rhaenar was the same when he came out….

However, he cried right away, Rhaenyra doesn’t. She stays quiet and you can’t help but grow concerned.

“Rhaenyra,” you whimper.

And as if understanding her name at that second she then breaks out crying, she begins to squirm in your hands, and squints her swollen eyes.

“Hi,” you muse and press your forehead against hers very gently. “Hi my love. Hi Rhaenyra, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.” You smile, but it’s only for a second because more pain then overwhelms you as the other baby follows to come out.

You try to be quiet so as to not startle Rhaenyra, but you can’t keep quiet, you cry out as you push. You place Rhaenyra down on the skirt of your dress and claw your nails on the floor as you keep pushing.

Thankfully the second baby comes out faster, and this one uses his new fresh pair lungs to cry out the moment they’re out.

“It’s okay,” you whisper and lift up the second baby, noticing that it’s a boy. The second one is a beautiful baby boy. “Hello my sweetling.” You cry out happily as you pull him towards you to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Hello my love.”

You then proceed to put him down next to his sister, and rapidly yank off your necklace to wrap the chain around the umbilical cords to cut them off. Once that’s done you pull the thin blanket off the bed to wrap them up and keep them warm, before you pick up the both of them and cradle them in your arms with a wobbly grin, and tears streaming down your cheeks. “I know, I know, your father isn’t here, but you’ll meet him soon, he’s going to be so happy. He’s so excited to meet the both of you.” You smile and watch them both calm down as they hear you talking to them. “Does it sound scary outside? Yeah that’s thunder, but it’s okay, you know my uncle Oberyn, your uncle, said that being born during a storm is a sign of good luck, a good omen, you my babies will have a good and exciting life.” You grin and watch the baby boy watch you with eyes as dark as Jon are. “But as for now it’ll go away.”

You then reach for the boy's hand, and he doesn't fail to wrap his little hand around your finger. “I’m sorry,” you direct at him. “I’m sorry you don’t have a name yet, your father…hasn’t decided. He’s too nervous about it.” You laugh softly. “You look like him,” you whisper. “Same dark eyes, same dark hair.”

The afterbirth comes out but you pay no mind to it, you’re too busy admiring the babies. “You, my lovely girl, have his eyes too, they’re so beautiful and dark.” Her hair albeit wasn’t the same color as Jon’s and her twin brothers, she doesn’t have a lot yet, but from what you can see, you can tell her hairs are silver-white just like yours, and your fathers.

She has Jon’s eyes though, they both do. Thank the gods they do. It’s like having him with you.

“There’s so many people happy to meet you.” You continue talking to them, unable to help your smile as they both watch you as if they’re hanging on to every word you’re saying.

“When we get home you’ll also meet your cradle mates, the dragon eggs your big brother Rhaenar picked out for you.” You let out a shaky breath as tears threaten to come out, but you hold them in. “You’ll meet Eraxis and Rhaegal too. You’ll fly soon as well, I promise.” You muster a smile and can’t help but caress their little cheeks.

They keep watching you, they bore their deep and dark eyes in you, and they’re all you can watch too. That is until the door opens and Greyworm walks in with a stoic face.

“Get out,” you grumble.

He however ignores you and approaches you. He crouches down and takes them, he takes the babies from your arms.

“No,” you sneer and try and push yourself up. “No! Give them back to me!”

The babies notice the stranger holding them, they don’t feel your warmth anymore and cry out. And that only makes you panic more, and triggers an adrenaline rush that lets you stand on your feet.

“Give me back my babies!” You bellow out as Greyworm only gets further away. “Greyworm!” You reach out for him, but the door then slams shut behind him and your babies. All you’re left to do is once again pound on the door and cry out, but this time with more desperation, this time with fuming anger, and thick tears.

You hit and hit the door over and over again until your hands are bloody and bruised. Eventually though the adrenaline runs its course and exhaustion overruns your body, leaving you stranded against the door and battling sleep.

The thunder had seemed to stop too, which is good, the twins are probably scared. Without the thunder however the cell was quiet, and it’s dangerous because it tempts you to sleep.

But you can’t fall asleep, you need to stay awake and keep trying to get that door open. You need to rescue your babies, they need you….

But this exhaustion is like a weight, it keeps pressing and pressing down. It dulls your senses, making your vision blur as your eyelids begin to droop, your hearing begins to tune out, causing you to ignore the rattling that shook the fragile castle and the hundreds of footsteps outside of the castle that sounded like more thunder. Your mind begins to go quiet as well as it dangles between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Grunting and groaning, metal clashing against each other begins to sound outside the door, but it seems distant so you ignore it and can’t help but rest your eyes.

Just for a second…

Alas, only a few minutes before the door gets pushed open, hitting your back and causing you to snap your eyes open.

The door gets pushed again, so you quickly drag yourself to the side and have no choice but to wait for the visitor that slowly creeps inside.

There’s no kind of weapon around you, so you hide in the corner of the cell and hold your breath so as to not be heard. A foot steps inside first before the door gets pushed open more, you then turn your head away and clench your jaw.

Yet just as the person peeks their head inside you quickly recognize the head of dirty blond hair. “Ser Jaime?” You breathe out, causing his head to snap to the side where you sit.

He gasps as his eyes widen with shock at the sight of your withered body.

“Your Grace,” he mutters before he rushes inside. And as he does come to you, you notice blood dripping down his leg.

“You’re bleeding,” you point out and stay pressed against the wall.

He shakes his head and crouches down, letting you see him twist his face as pain strikes from his leg. “Don’t worry about me, let’s get you up and out of here. You need to see a maester.”

You let him help you up but shake your head. “No…no, the baby’s,” you whisper and grab his arms to meet his gaze with tears clouding your eyes. “Greyworm took them.”

Jaime shakes his head again. “You’re in no condition to chase after anyone, let Jon do it, or Ser Brienne.”

“Jon?” You question. “Where is he?”

“Don’t you hear it?” He says and glances back. “He’s fighting the Queen to get you back.”

You shake your head. “She’ll kill him, she wanted to drag him out—”

“Don’t worry,” he cuts you off. “He’s not alone, he’s brought a whole army with him. I’ve never seen someone determined to get someone back...I envy it.”

The corner of your lips pull to a small smile at the thought of Jon coming after you, at the thought of him fighting for you, but the longer you stay here, the longer you’re apart from them.

“Then he can fight Daenerys,” you retort and pull away from him. “I’ll go after Greyworm and rescue my children. You shouldn’t doubt my determination, Ser Jaime.” You scoff as you begin to walk out of the room, feeling the exhaustion get pushed back as determination and fury replaces it for now.

“You are very stubborn,” Jaime throws out at you as he walks out after you.

However, before you can make it far you stop as you see the bloody bodies of Unsullied soldiers laid on the ground. You don’t feel bad, you’re just impressed that a man with one hand did all this.

“I’m impressed,” you tell the man and bend down to pick up a spear off the ground. “You did well.”

Jaime scoffs. “Not well enough…” he trails off and you glance at his bleeding leg.

“Let me have a—”

“No,” he cuts you off again. “Later. Right now tell me where we’re going. Do you know where Greyworm is taking your kids?”

You drop your gaze and search the ground as you think. “I,” you mutter and blink repeatedly.

Luckily you don’t linger too much in thought because it hits you quickly—There was a battle here now, Daenerys was here to lure you and Jon out so you can bend the knee. If you refused then her plan was taking the babies and forcing you to your knees. So they won’t be here, not so close…

“Kings Landing,” you throw out. “We may have them surrounded, but they can still go in and out, that’s where he’s going.”

Jaime doesn’t question you and nods, letting you add one more thing before you leave. “Thank you, ser Jaime. I owe you my life.”

Jaime shakes his head. “No you don’t. Now come on, my horse isn’t far from here.” He proceeds to grab your arm and begins to lead you out of the castle, and the closer you get outside the more you hear the sound of battle cries, shouts of pain, and clashing metal.

Yet the noise doesn’t compare to what plays in the sky. When you get out of the cover of the ruined castle, there up above rages a beautiful battle between dragons. Their fires light the sky like if thunder and lightning played within the clouds, as if the sun was out hiding within the thick stormy and smoke clouds. It was captivating.

“Here,” Ser Jaime snaps you from your stupor and pulls you to a brown horse. “Can you ride?”

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes.” Your body fucking hurts, but fuck it.

Ser Jaime helps you mount the horse before he struggles to get on his. Eventually when you make it out on the dirt road, the sound of the battle on the ground grows quieter the further you get, but the sound of the dragons fighting does grow quieter, it doesn’t fade in the distance, their screeches and roars are still heard clearly miles away.

You look up and you can still see them battling, and you also catch someone else beside Rhaegal and Drogon in the sky. You hadn’t heard her at first, it didn’t seem like she was with them either when you first got out of the castle, but you see her now hidden between the clouds. And then she isn’t there.

The fire Drogon blasted out extinguishes, hiding the view of your white scaled dragon. It makes you slow down your horse to watch what comes next as your fascination grows.

However the darkness lingers, letting you not see a thing. You can only hear the sound of Eraxis screech before seconds later it seems that Rheagal blasts out fire next, letting you see Eraxis jaw clamped on Drogon’s neck, and her claws digging in his wing, causing them both to begin twirling down to the ground.

It was awestrucking, but…why was Eraxis there and not searching for you? It’s not like she would pay much mind to the battle without you there to tell her. There was also this anger within her, it was strange and new, it was almost like she was possessed.

Was she perhaps mad that you were gone?

Yeah…maybe that’s it.

Nevertheless, you nudge the horse to pick up its speed once again, letting you catch up to Ser Jaime before there’s a loud thud that shakes the ground.

“What was that?” Jaime asks.

You peer back and smirk softly. “The dragons.”

——

*A FEW MOMENTS LATER*

“Rhaenyra…and undecided. Jon hasn’t chosen a name.”

“Rhaenyra.” He nods softly. “It's a good name for a Queen.”

You smile faintly. “Yes, it is.”

“We’ll save your kids. If that’s the last thing I do,” he assures you, making you pull your gaze away from the dirt road below the green hill you wait on.

“Thank you,” is all you can say again.

Ever since he gave you his word he’s nothing but loyal. It’s more than what you deserve.

“There,” Jaime breaks the short silence and points. You follow his finger and catch a single carriage approaching rapidly. Since it’s dark you don’t see the rider right away, you have to nudge the horse to take a step forward, that’s when you gasp as you catch Greyworm at the front, leading the horse.

“All right, I’ll block him off at the front and you sneak behind him when we begin to fight,” Jaime explains. “As soon as you get those babies, you run out of here and meet Ser Brienne, she’ll be at the south side of the castle. Don’t linger behind, just take them. Understand?”

And leave him to die? He’s not the warrior he once was, it will be like easy practice to Greyworm. Jaime will die.

“I can’t leave you to die!” You snap out with concern.

Jaime meets your gaze and shakes his head. “I’ve told you already, I owe you, don’t worry about me.”

You draw in a deep breath, and just as you’re going to argue, he nudges his horse to run down the hill as Greyworm gets closer. You wait a little longer and just watch Jaime get further down the green hill until he eventually runs out onto the road and blocks the carriage's way, causing Greyworm to come to an immediate halt.

They share a few words from what you can tell, but you’re too far to hear. They actually take a while talking, it begins to make you desperate to reach your babies, but you have to wait until the weapons are drawn.

They better be in there though.

You draw out a deep breath and clench your jaw as you watch them through the darkness the stormy clouds cast. It’s not until a few minutes later that finally Ser Jaime draws out his long Valyrian steel sword that you finally can run down.

The sound of his weapon clashing against Greyworms makes you want to help, but you force yourself to just stop behind the carriage. You don’t look at the battle going on ahead, you try and block out the sound and quickly slide off your horse, causing more pain on your lower body. You then proceed to run to the back of the carriage and throw the doors open, but gasp in surprise as you see two Unsullied soldiers sitting there at both sides of a wooden cradle.

“<Princess,>” one of them says.

You meet his black eyes and counter. “<It's Queen now. Let me take them and I’ll spare your lives.>”

The one on the right laughs and then shakes his head. “<We can’t kill you, but you won’t get these babies if you don’t bend the knee to the true Queen.>”

You reach back for your spear and get ready to talk back, but suddenly one Unsullied soldier jumps out of his seat and throws himself on you, making you fall back on the dirt ground harshly.

You let out a groan, but have no time to dwindle in your new pain because he then presses the stick part of his spear against your throat, cutting off your air circulation, and dulling your other senses.

You try to press back, but he’s stronger right now, he’s angry too, adding to his strength. It seems like he's going to best you, but you manage to slip your hand off his spear and instead throw your hand up and stab your fingers in his eye.

The Unsullied soldier doesn't make any noise, but he throws his head back and stays on top of you, adding more weight on your body as he sits down to grab at his wounded eye.

The other Unsullied peeks his head out and notices his injured companion and throws out a curse before he reaches back for his spear. Fuck.

He can’t join this damn fight or you’ll never win. Fuck. Okay.

You look at your side to search for your weapon, but find it too far out of reach. The weapon of the man you just fought is at your feet and he’s sitting on your legs, so you can’t get it. Fuck!

Okay….

Out of desperation to reach your newborn children, you pump yourself with as much fury and adrenaline as you can muster and throw your upper body up to sink your teeth on the soldier's throat. The soldier stiffens, and just as he tries to claw at you, you pull back and yank off a part of his throat with your teeth, causing the other soldier to suddenly stiffen in surprise.

You use that though and push the now dead man off your body to swipe his spear off the floor. You then quickly hurl it at the second soldier’s chest still on the carriage.

Now that they’re both dealt with you push yourself off the ground and stumble towards the carriage. You still hear Greyworm and Jaime fighting ahead, which is impressive that the one handed soldier is holding out so long, but you can’t stop, he told you not to, so you keep ignoring it and climb onto the back that now holds the wooden cradle.

“Rhaenyra. My love,” you mutter out and don’t care about your appearance, or that you’re hurt, you reach them and look in, seeing both of them there, sleeping peacefully as if nothing is happening around them. “I’m here,” you assure them even if they’re sleeping. “I’m here,” you smile. You reach down to pick them up, but just as you do you catch a glimpse of the fight happening ahead, and see Greyworm stab his spear through Jaime’s stomach with a violent blow that knocks the one handed knight right off his feet.

You’re told not to, you’re supposed to just take the twins and leave, but he’s sacrificed so much, he’s been kind and loyal, he’s been a friend surprisingly enough, you can’t help your heart from sinking and your feet from taking you to him bleeding out on the ground.

“Ser Jaime,” you whisper and cradle his face to turn it towards you. “I can still help you. Just…don’t take the blade off.”

The man swallows thickly and shakes his head. “No,” he grunts. “No...Princess,” he mutters. “My time here is done. I…tried to keep my promise now. Just go.”

Tears wells your eyes and you regardlessly press on his wound to stop the blood from trickling down. “No…you have to see your brother. He’ll be waiting. You have to live and…and still watch over me. That’s an order.”

He scoffs and then coughs out blood. “Tell my brother…” he trails off and continues to cough out more blood, darker this time. “Tell him that I love him…that no matter what I will always look out for him.”

You nod even if you don’t want to accept his death.

“And you…” he continues and cups your hand with his gloved one. “It was an honor serving you…Queen. Your mother would be proud…of the women you are…don’t let her down okay? I’m sorry…I couldn’t protect her, or you. I’m sorry.”

You whimper and shake your head. “I forgive you. It’s thanks to you that I found my children. You did good…it was an honor having you as my protector.”

The corner of his lips tug up slightly, causing blood to begin trickling out from the corner of his mouth. His breaths begin to go ragged, and his hand falls off your hand and lands on his sword's handle. He then drifts his eyes to it and then points his eyes behind you.

You’re confused at first, but you blink and peer back, understanding now that he’s pointing at Greyworm. He’s telling you to kill him.

Greyworm was kind to Rhaenar without question, he was kind to you. But he ripped your newborn babies out of your arms and took them, he’s not on your side anymore, he’s just another enemy. A causality, and Daenerys only friend now. It’s a message to her from you.

That makes killing him much easier.

Albeit, just as you’re going to reach over for the sword, Greyworm comes over and pulls his spear out of Jaime’s stomach, causing blood to pour out of the wound and only pushing Jaime closer to death. And fueling your anger.

So just as Greyworm is walking back to the carriage you reach over for Ser Jaime’s Valyrian steel sword and clutch it in your hands.

Now usually you prefer spears, they’re lighter, easier to use, but your spear is too far away and well, this blade is better than Greyworm’s spear. It’s actually a lot lighter than you expected Valyrian steel to be too.

“Why do you mourn for a man who stabbed your grandfather in the back, and chose his own reputation over being loyal to you?” Greyworm spats out.

You exhale through your nose and slowly push up the sword from the ground. “That man was no grandfather of mine,” you counter spitefully. “I’m glad that he got stabbed in the back, he deserved far worse. But perhaps I’ll save that for Daenerys.” You snicker.

Greyworm spins around and growls out of anger, only making you smirk as you meet his gaze with a taunting glare.

“I won’t fight you,” Greyworm quickly tells you without letting his anger get the best of him. “It won’t be a fair fight, and the Queen wants you alive.”

You lose your taunting look, and slowly begin to scowl at the man as you remain on your knees with the swords tip nailed against the ground, and the handle in your hand. The blood that was drying on your lips and chin only made your look more intimidating, but he still doesn’t flinch.

“Then you’re a coward,” you spat back. “It’s fine, it'll make this fight easier.” You breathe out and slowly begin to use the sword's weight to push yourself up to your feet.

Greyworm remains collected and actually throws his spear at your feet. You glance at it and sigh deeply in annoyance before you meet his gaze and kick the spear at him. You then raise your chin and point at him as you shift your feet to get in a battle ready stance.

Before he can once again turn you down you charge at him and swing the sword. Greyworm quickly blocks your attack with his blade and then manages to push you back. He then doesn’t falter or turn away, he swings at your stomach, but you slide back. He then counters with another swing, but you throw your head back and avoid the blade.

You proceed to swing at his legs, but he shuffles back and thrashes his arm to the side, letting you quickly throw your arms up and clash the blade against his. You proceed to meet his gaze and shoot him a smirk before you lift your leg and shove him back. You don’t lose your momentum and use all your strength to swing the blade across his chest.

Greyworm however catches your attempts and tries to block them, but in doing so he fails to clash the blade against yours, causing the Valyrian steel sword to cut his wooden spear in half and the tip to cut his cheek.

You’re shocked by your actions, but can’t help but smirk proudly. Whilst Greyworm touches his cut and looks at the coat of blood that stains his fingers, he then blinks and knits his eyebrows together as he looks up at you in surprise.

“<Lucky you,” you throw at him in high Valyrian as you begin to walk back. “You’ll meet your gods today.>” Once you reach the spot where you had fought the other soldiers, you pick up your spear and throw at his feet. “<Lets end this.>” You sneer and twist your blade around your hand.

A faint smirk appears on Greyworms lips before he picks up the spear and lunges forward and swings down. You quickly jump back to avoid being hit, and then counterattack. Greyworm albeit blocks your action and pushes you back.

“<Your ancestor should be proud,” Greyworm throws out in Valyrian as he spins the spear in his hand. “You’ve learned well. You make a mighty warrior.>

You huff out, and then charge at him. Just as you get close you jump off your feet and throw the sword down. Greyworm nevertheless avoids the blade and quickly counters by lunging the spear at your side.

Luckily you twist your body and miss being hit, and before he can pull back you turn your hand around and capture his handle.

Greyworm’s eyes snap at you in surprise, you shoot him a smirk and try to stab him, but he’s stronger than you now so he manages to yank the spear out of your hold.

And just as he steps back suddenly his body jerks up, and he lets out a groan. You falter and watch him in confusion, however you then see the cause of this sudden halt when you notice Ser Jaime on his knees behind Greyworm, and with Greyworm’s own broken spear stabbed through his own back.

How did Jaime muster the strength to get up?

Who knows, but you’re thankful.

So before Greyworm can react, you use both hands to hold the sword and charge at him. You lift the sword in your hand as you approach him, and the moment you get close enough you open your mouth to let out a mighty battle cry as you swing the sword across Greyworm’s neck. And since the blade is sharp and made out of the toughest steel, the blade cuts clean across, cutting his head right off his shoulders. Ending this battle, and causing Jaime to fall back.

You first make sure no one is approaching before you run to Jaime and cup his cheek. “Thank you, Ser Jaime,” you mumble. “You did well.”

Jaime’s eyes begin to flutter close, and his breath begins to slow down. He musters enough strength to grab your hand and add one more thing. “Thank you...” he trails off and his eyes close, his chest rises once more as he takes his final breath, and then it sinks for the last time.

——

*LATER*

The air wasn’t filled with battle cries anymore, there’s no cries of pain, or metal slinging. There’s no fire brightening up the sky red, there’s no dragons flying either. It’s not quiet or calm, but it seems that the battle had come to an end. Actually the castle people say is cursed doesn’t stand as tall as it once did moments ago, there are towers that are missing, walls are gone and turned to rubble and debris.

Where once stood a haunted mighty castle now remains crushed walls, and smoke.

It’s sort of fascinating, in a weird and creepy way.

“Halt right there!”

You rip your eyes away from the ruined castle and see Ser Brienne, Ser May and Ser Marizelizabeth come out of hiding from behind rubble to point their weapons at you.

“It’s okay—”

“My Queen,” Ser Brienne cuts you off right away and doesn’t hesitate to drop on her knee.

“Queen,” The others mutter and mirror their commander's action.

You bring the carriage to halt and offer them a nod. “At ease.”

However, neither of them rise.

“Forgive me your Grace,” Ser Brienne shares with her eyes on the ground. “I failed to keep you safe, they took you because of my incompetence. I understand if you want to remove me from my rank.”

You slide off the carriage and approach Ser Brienne. “It was not your fault. It was no one’s fault,” you assure her and touch her shoulder. “No one could have known. So please don’t blame yourselves, that’s an order.”

The three of them look at you, and Ser Brienne hesitates, but it was an order so she listens and doesn’t press on the matter, instead she and the others stand up and examine you.

“Ser May,” Ser Brienne orders over her shoulder after she caught the blood on your face and on your gown. “Fetch the maester.”

“Wait,” you call out before she can run off. “While you do fetch Jon too. I have something I need to show him.” You smile, but it falters. “He is fine right?”

Brienne nods. “Worried,” she assures you. “That’s all.”

You let out a relieved sigh and nod with a happy grin painted on your face. “Good. Go then.”

Ser May runs off to go as she’s told, letting you now address the problems. “Catch me up,” you direct at the pair of knights as you turn to head to the back of the carriage.

“King Jon,” Ser Brienne doesn’t falter. “He came with an army of men when he heard of your disappearance. While Arya, Sarella, Ser Davos and Lord Royce led the battle on the ground, Jon fought Daenerys in the sky.”

You hum and stop as you reach the doors.

“The battle didn’t last long,” she continues. “We lost some warriors, but they lost more.”

“Good,” you comment.

“It seems Daenerys was injured in battle after her dragon fell from the sky. That’s when the battle on the ground ended because her men retreated. Albeit not before Drogon lay waste on the castle.”

She was injured?

You swallow thickly and find yourself lost between feeling guilt and pride.

“Her dragon was hurt too, badly may I add,” Brienne adds, but you knew that, you saw that as you were chasing after Greyworm—“when they were retreating, King Jon, and your dragon….burned probably a third of her army.”

You blink in surprise and look over at her to share your disbelief. You don’t say anything, you’re just shocked he’d do something like that, especially that Eraxis would dare do something like that without your command.

“Is that all?” You probe and grab the door handles.

Ser Brienne nods, letting you sigh and look at the doors with a faint smile. “Ser Marielizabeth, if you may. May you please ride to the gates of Kings landing and…” you trail off to open the doors and pick up the sack that held Greyworm’s head. “Leave this at the gates for Daenerys,” you continue. “Make sure she gets it and then ride back to Sunspear.”

“Sunspear?” She queries.

You meet her gaze and nod. “Aye. A third of her army is gone, her Master of War is dead, she and her dragon are injured, we can’t return to Winterfell now that we have the advantage. We have to remain close to attack soon and end this war.” You grab the sack and give it to your knight. “Take care, alright?”

She nods and turns away to go get ready, letting you face Ser Brienne with a frown as you see her studying the body covered with a tarp.

“Ser Brienne,” you mutter and grab her hand. “I'm sorry. Ser Jaime….he…He’s passed.”

The tall woman knight drops her head and blinks repeatedly as you know grief and disbelief strikes her heart. She keeps her hand in your grasp and just swallows thickly before meeting your gaze with red eyes as she fought the need to cry.

“It would please me if you took his body and sword to his brother, you can grieve him as you please, and then go to Sunspear with the Hand.”

Brienne shakes her head. “No,” she argues. “I need to stay by your side, protect you. I can’t go, I’ll have someone else go. I can grieve him alone. By your side.”

You draw in a deep breath and hold her gaze for a second as you debate arguing with her. But it is her choice so you sigh and nod. “As you please. Have three Knights of the Queens guard take the body and sword so they can return with Lady Sansa.”

“Y/N?!” Your name is called out as you finish giving Ser Brienne an order, and when you snap your eyes past her body you spot Jon; his face is caked in blood, and his hair is down, he looks exhausted, but he’s a relief to see, he’s the very sun missing from the sky today.

“Jon,” you call out and break away from your spot to run to him.

Said man instantly meets you halfway without a fault and captures you an embrace. “Oh my love,” he whispers. “I was so worried,” he whispers as he holds the back of your head and hugs you tighter.

You laugh softly out of exciment, and pull back to kiss him over the dry blood. He deepens the kiss, and you linger in his taste for a moment before you pull back and grab his chin to study his face for any injuries.

“It’s not my blood,” he assures you and grabs your chin too as he sees the dry blood stained over your lips and chin.

“Not mine,” you mirror.

“Good,” he says and reaches for your belly that hasn’t gone down, but you grab his hand and grin at him. “Come with me. I need to introduce you to a pair of twins.”

Jon’s face quickly twists in confusion, but before he can ask, you pull him to the back of the carriage, and then inside where the cradle is. He’s hesitant to approach, he still looks puzzled, so you beam brighter and reach down to pick them up.

“Jon,” you whisper since Rhaenyra remains asleep, “meet Rhaenyra and your son.” You turn around to show them off, noticing that his eyes are locked on Rhaenyra fast asleep and the boy watching you. He looks surprised, but that slowly falls as the boy begins to complain and squirm.

Jon then approaches you and pulls the sheet down to see their faces.

“They’re okay,” you assure him. “Healthy. They’ve just lived an adventure now. Isn’t that right?” You ask the baby boy. “But you’re here now. With your mother and father.” You peek over at Jon and see that he carries a soft smile that matches his softened eyes that are welled with tears.

“May I hold them?” He asks and meets your gaze.

You giggle and nod. “Of course, my love. Here,” you whisper and carefully hand the twins to him.

Just as you’re going to pull your arms away, Jon stops you. “Wait, I don’t want to drop ‘em. Just—”

“Jon,” you cut him off softly. “It’s okay. You won’t. You won’t.” You very slowly pull your hands away, but keep them close for a second to let him know that he was okay. That they won’t just fall from his hands. “See. It’s okay.”

Jon scoffs, and then looks down at the twins with a lovestruck gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and your mother when you were born. I’m sorry. I’m here now though, I’m never letting you leave my sight.” He laughs softly and meets your gaze with tears rolling down his cheeks. “They’re so beautiful. Rhaenrya, she has your hair.”

You nod and then rest your chin on his shoulder as you watch him with awe. “They both have your eyes. They’re beautiful.”

Jon nods and then presses a kiss on your forehead. “You did good, my brave girl. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, I’m sorry you had to do it alone. Forgive me.”

You shake your head, “there’s nothing to forgive, it’s not your fault. They’re here now, alive and healthy, that's all that matters.”

Jon licks his lips to get ready to argue, but then his name and yours is called out. “Jon? Y/N?!”

It’s Arya. Her footsteps race around the carriage, but once she reaches the back and sees Jon holding two bundles she stiffens and gasps.

Jon and you share a happy look before he motions her to come in. She hesitates but then jumps in and meets her niece and nephew.

“Look at them,” she whispers with awe as she reaches her finger for the boy's hand. “Hi. I’m Arya, your—” she cuts herself off and gasps as the baby boy holds her finger. “I’m your aunt,” she continues with a beaming smile. “Your best aunt.”

Jon laughs softly, and then shares a passing look with you before he looks at the twins and parts his lips to whisper. “Arya, meet Rhaenyra and Robb.” He smiles softly.

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