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themockingpoint · 2 years

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Sorry a day late but here is day 15

Love

Five times Sansa helped her family find love and the one time they helped her

1. Sister

“I just don’t understand!” Said Sansa as she followed Arya.

“That is a new one.” Arya said with a roll of her eyes.

“Watch it…” Sansa warned. “You and Gendry are great together.”

“We are just friends.” Arya stressed.

“Yeah, I usually am struck speechless by my friend’s bodies as well.” Sansa deadpanned, referencing her sister’s reaction at the Stark-Poole pool party.

“You… You just don’t understand.” Arya said, pathetically.

Sansa growled in frustration before looking past Arya and smiling in realization. “Ok then. My friend Alla has expressed interest. I guess you would not mind if…”

“Absolutely not!”

“But you just said…”

“Gendry is mine! Back off!” Arya snapped, before there was a ‘het-hem’ behind her. Sansa’s sister’s long face got even longer as she recognized the source of the voice.

“Toodle-loo!” Sansa said, with a cheeky wave. “I am sure you two have a lot to talk about. Gendry? Our curfew is at 10pm. Try to have her back by then!”

2. Cousin

“Hey, Sansa.” Myrcella said, holding up a bag for the pool party.

“Oh! Hey Cella!” Sansa said, ushering her in. “You are… really early.”

Myrcella grimaced and Sansa waved her down when she realized how rude she came across. “I am so sorry! I just…”

“No! It is fine!”

“Sorry! I just got off of work and going home was the opposite direction and…”

“Cella, it is fine.” Sansa said, holding her forearms.

“Phew. In that case, is there anywhere for me to change?” She asked, and Sansa pointed her in the direction of the bathroom with the broken door.

“Thanks tons!” Myrcella said, practically skipping to the bathroom.

A moment later a voice behind her said, “Hey Sans, is there anyone in the downstairs bathroom?” Sansa turned to see Jon holding swim trunks at the base of the stairs. “Ma is hogging the one upstairs.”

“No you are good.” Sansa lied. Myrcella had been half in love with her cousin since the band incident but was too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. Maybe Sansa could jumpstart it.

Jon walked over to the bathroom and opened the door without bothering to knock. Sansa got a good look into the room as Myrcella stiffened with her back to the door and her heart shaped butt on display.

Sansa stepped away so that she could not see into the bathroom to give her friend some privacy as Jon stammered out some apologies. Sansa smiled when instead of pushing Jon out of the doorway to slam the door, she grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.

“About damned time…” She said to herself.

3. Brother

Sansa rolled her eyes at her baby brother, on his first date at the movies. She was somehow the one designated to supervise their date and munched on popcorn behind him.

Shireen Baratheon was a good family friend and it surprised everyone when he asked her out. With her scars the girl did not have the easiest time growing up and was a little untrusting when she was asked out by the handsome Rickon Stark. It was only Sansa interfering that stopped Rickon from totally mucking it up. (So Sansa was biased? Sue her!)

But it seems that Sansa is going to need to hold his hand for their entire relationship! Sitting in the row behind him, she saw how his hand kept rising to put over her shoulder before lowering, changing his mind. After the seventh time this happened Sansa rolled her eyes, grabbed his elbow as it rose and pushed it upwards and over the other girl's shoulder.

Shireen stiffened and looked over surprised. Rickon for his part looked just as surprised. The girl was not exactly convinced at his earnestness yet but leaned into the cuddle anyway, making Rickon look like the rooster who found the roost.

“Loser.” Sansa thought affectionately

4. Uncle

“I do not know…” Uncle Edmure said, scratching the back of his head.

“You like her. She likes you.” Sansa stressed, annoyed.

“She is your cousin.” Edmure said, looking at Myranda across the room sitting at their table looking bored.

“Exactly! My cousin!” Sansa stressed, even though that was a stretch. Her and Myranda shared a set of Great-Great-Great-Great Grandparent. Still their families were still close.

“Sansa I don’t…”

Sansa rolled her eyes and shouted, “Myranda! He said yes!”

Edmure gave her a look of horror and Sansa gave her a cheeky grin. “I expect to be a bridesmaid at your wedding!”

5. Aunt

Sansa sat playing with her doll and Margaery cleaned up the play area. The girls did not get to spend time together as they liked so they used the time they had had to the fullest.

“Is Willas picking you up?” Sansa asked.

“Probably. Why?”

“Nothing.” Sansa said, unconvincingly. “It is just… Aunt Lyanna gets happier when is the one to pick you up.”

“Really?” Margie said, mischievously.

“Yeah. And she said…” Sansa began before blushing hard.

“Go on.”

“She said that he has an… butt for days.” She finished causing both girls to start giggling in hysterics.

“You know what this means!” Margie asked. “It means she likes Willas! Old ladies only talk about boy’s butts when they like them!”

“We could be family!” Sansa whispered. “Aunt Lyanna?”

“Yes, sweetling?”

“Do you like Willas?” Sansa asked, and Lyanna turned scarlet.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you like Willas? Margie’s brother?” Sansa said.

“Sansa…”

“You should ask him out!” Margie said, and Lyanna tilted her head. “I once heard him talk about how much he likes how you are with the horses.” Margie confirmed and if that was not a declaration of true Love Sansa did not know what was.

“I don’t know girls…” Lyanna began and Sansa piped up.

“You said that it is a woman’s world now too! And they should not hesitate to grab life by the treats.” Sansa said, reminding her aunt.

“By the what?”

“Treats!” Sansa said, beaming.

Lyanna finally realized what Sansa meant and she did not realize that she was there during that conversation with Lysa and was mortified that she was using that euphemism. But the girl was right. She should be the one to make the first move. Willas was plenty handsome and she deserved some of that man butt!

“You two are right.” Lyanna said, ruffling hair to both girl’s displeasure. “Maybe I will ask him out.”

Lyanna couldn’t help but grin as both girls jumped up and down and started dancing in successful glee.

1+ Family

Sansa looked up from her book as Uncle Edmure and Gendry walked in without a word. “Hey guys, what's oomph!” Sansa was taken off guard as the only two family members taller than her both picked her up and carried her to her room

Quicker than Sansa could think, she was deposited in her room where Myranda, Arya, Margaery, Myrcella, Shireen, and her Aunt Lyanna were waiting. “What is going on?” Sansa asked, but got no answer other than being stripped of her cropped sweatshirt, yoga pants and even bra.

The group (mostly Margaery and the Baratheon girls) quickly had her hair done up and make-up done, talking and joking with each other ignoring Sansa’s questions. Finally they were finished making her look like she was going to Prom again and Ed and Gendry picked her up and brought her to the door.

“Why do I feel like I am being sold?” Sansa asked rhetorically.

“Welllll….” Arya said, “You want to play matchmaker so badly we figured that we’d return the favor. My Friend Edric Dayne is outside.”

“What!” Sansa hissed, but before she got a response the door opened to see Ned in a sports coat and holding a Red Rose.

“Hi Ned.” She said, but the entire group behind her seemed to be intimidating him.

“Get her back at a decent hour!” Edmure said.

“But not too decent!” Myranda said with a waggle of her eyes.

“If you hurt her I will find you.” Lyanna said in a low growl.

“I- I am really looking forward to this.” Ned said, earnestly.

“Yeah, me too.” Sansa said.

“You had no idea this was happening did you?” Ned asked, completely unfooled.

“No.” She said, as he opened the passenger door to his purple truck. Between that and the rose, he was easily the most chivalrous man she had ever gone out with (not that Joffrey and Harry put up a great competition. “But that does not mean I am not excited!”

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bibiundtinaundzombies · 2 months

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au in which robert, the starks and the lannisters play monopoly instead of going hunting and pushing each other‘s kids from towers.

tyrion implements a tax system to make things more interesting and fights cersei over the cat for a solid ten minutes.

around thirty minutes into the game, catelyn realizes that she has free will and stops paying taxes.

arya and sansa haggle over new york avenue, which ends up being bought by theon. this causes the two to completely cast aside their differences, ally and subsequently start doing everything in their power to make theon‘s life hell.

theon himself is quite severely stoned the entire time throughout.

ned enters horrendous debt pretty much immediately and, after two hours of being financially sucked dry by both cersei and his tax evader of a wife, decides to just place his figurine in jail and never leave.

jon, playing the dog, controls the railroads and makes jaime, playing the ship, go completely broke within minutes. being beaten by a bastard and officially the first to lose the game makes jaime so mad he spends the rest of the evening perched on the family‘s ancestral armchair eating flaming hot cheetos and stifling sobs.

cersei is holding onto her last two dollars and her one house in atlantic avenue like a maniac and evades taxes like it‘s an olympic sport. she claims ownership of kentucky avenue on the grounds that red is her house‘s color at least twice. after three hours, she‘s consumed enough vintage red to kill a large mammal and keeps quoting the art of war. fascinatingly enough, she never goes completely broke.

robert, just as broke and drunk as his wife but not nearly as ferocious, proposes marriage for tax advantages to bran, who is in possession of the boardwalk and lets him dangle on his proposition for two rounds before accepting and feeling like a benevolent god.

sansa sees this and immediately proposes to arya, who accepts, only for them to be sued by their mother for public indecency („you‘re siblings, jesus christ!“). arya argues that this is just a game and that one could argue that robert‘s and bran‘s marital alliance is just as if not even more inappropriate, considering that bran is seven and robert thirtyseven. sansa countersues her mother for tax evasion, who promises she‘ll drop her lawsuit if her daughters let her keep hoarding perverse amounts of wealth. „love wins!“ arya says, which causes jaime, still perched on the armchair but now eating old nan‘s home made whiskey truffles, to hysterically sob. cersei stares him down.

robb, in a rare moment of almost prophetic foresight, excuses himself one hour in and goes on a very, VERY long walk with grey wind.

tyrion, whose tax system has spectacularly backfired in his face, proposes marriage to catelyn, jon and cersei in rapid succession, who all turn him down. „i wish i was the monster you think i am. i wish i had enough poison for the whole pack of you. i would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it.“ he screams before he leaves the table.

at that, joffrey, who has refused to participate and instead sits on the couch playing doom on his nintendo ds, starts hysterically laughing. tyrion turns on his heel and awards his nephew with the bitchslap of the century. this causes cersei to completely abandon the game and chase after him with a broom. catelyn makes sure that everyone is distracted by the lannister antics and then reaches across the table and bags cersei‘s money and properties.

with a heavy heart, myrcella trades arya and sansa one of her limited edition bayala schleich unicorns for park place.

at this point, the game is between the tycoons that are catelyn and jon, the bran-robert alliance, the arya-sansa-alliance, and ned, who is still in jail and watching ice hockey on his phone under the table. that is when catelyn hears rickon gagging and discovers that he, in the absence of tyrion, the self declared bank manager, has managed to eat all bank notes from the box.

rickon gets his stomach pumped, cersei and tyrion have both been arrested, theon is still stoned, arya, sansa and myrcella have wandered off to go play schleich horses, and jon remains at the table, alone, content, and quietly considering himself the winner.

#asoiaf #asoiaf au #asoiaf modern au #eddard stark #catelyn stark #ned x catelyn #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #robert baratheon #robb stark #jon snow #bran stark #arya stark #sansa stark #rickon stark #joffrey baratheon #myrcella baratheon #sorry for the tommen erasure :(

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welldonebeca · 1 year

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The King's Wives (1)

Summary: After the fall of Robert’s rebellion, Rhaegar’s surviving son would be raised in secret as a bastard for the first fourteen years of his life. Six years after finding out the truth, Sansa travels down south to join him and complete his group of seven wives - representing each Region of his Kingdom. Slowly, they become a very happy family. A.K.A.: Jon may get seven wives, but Sansa gets six sisters. Main Pairing: Jonsa Minor Pairings: Jon x Arianne Martell, Jon x Margaery Tyrell, Jon x Mya Stone, Jon x Alys Arryn (OC), Jon x Asha Greyjoy (platonic), Jon x Myrcella Baratheon (Platonic) WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Fluff. Canon divergence.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Sansa was twelve when she knew her life was going to be different from what she first expected.

Before she was born, when her father was young, he had a friend. Lord Robert.

He had warred against the crown and the mad king - the father of King Rhaegar - and lost, after the woman he loved was taken as the Prince's second wife.

Her aunt Lyanna, so young, had caused war all by herself.

It should have been seen as a story of forbidden love, but it wasn't.

Many people died, her father's friend, his mentor - Lord Jon Arryn, father of her cousin, Robert Arryn - and even her aunt Lyanna herself. Prince Vyserys and Princess Daenerys, still children - she was barely yet a toddler.

Queen Elia's children had been killed too. One of them was just a baby, a newborn boy.

All that life was lost, and father... well, father seemed like the only one who survived, him and his little bastard boy.

Of course, Sansa eventually understood why her father and Jon had come home unscratched. Why the King was so grateful to let him come home and have his family.

Jon was a token of mercy father never seemed to be grateful for.

The king had bestowed many pardons, she had learnt as she grew up. Jaime Lannister, who had killed the mad King, but had saved Queen Elia from the hands of the horrid Mountain after he killed her babes, killing the man and saving her life, was now Lord of Casterly Rock and of its lands after his father was executed for letting in the men who'd rioted the King's Landing.

Her own father, who had fought by Robert's side.

Lord Robert's brothers, his only heirs.

Throughout her childhood, the life of the King and Queen seemed just to be focused on trying to create a peaceful kingdom. To maybe restore whatever they had lost during that war.

They never had heirs again, there was never a mention of the Queen pregnant or of the King taking a second wife, like with Aunt Lyanna.

And then the Queen died.

And he never married again.

King Rhaegar stayed alone, and never even entertained everyone's questions or offers of an engagement.

What he did, though, was come North. Every year, he visited, and spend time with her parents, made sure to have at least one meal a day with the oldest children - Sansa had been there a few times, and Jeyne hadn't stopped joking that the king had come to see if she was old enough to be his queen.

King Rhaegar was beautiful, but he was just as old as her parents!

She would never marry a man so old.

But there were questions about how he would continue the Targaryen dynasty.

He didn't even seem to care, not that she could see.

And he took a liking to Jon. He spent time with him, went on hunting trips with him, and was interested in things such as his education and character.

Which was so strange, because her half-brother was no more than a bastard. Why would he care for a bastard?

And it was all written there. She just wasn't smart enough to put the pieces together.

She found out the truth when she was 12, and Jon was 14.

Bran had led her through the hidden walls of the castle, to show her something after they had said her name in a conversation, her parents and the king.

Jon wasn't her father's son, no. He was the only son of Aunt Lyanna and King Rhaegar.

"I didn't want you to be corrupted by the south," King Rhaegar spoke, looking at Jon's face. "Your mother was raised here. Her principles were much greater than anyone else I had ever met. It's why I fell in love with her."

Jon looked completely shocked, and Sansa's wasn't too different.

Her father's bastard boy, a prince.

Robb was there, right beside her mother, and Sansa couldn't quite read her expression.

Did she know that? Who else knew the truth?

"My whole life, I was raised like a bastard," Jon spoke, sounding frustrated and confused.

"Like the son of the Northern Lord," his father, his real father, corrected him. "You know the ways of the common folk more in this life than anyone in King's Landing. You know the worth of the work of your hands, and the real needs of the people who you are going to rule over."

Sansa cowled. The work of his hands? Jon wasn't exactly living like a prince, but he wasn't a man of the common folk either.

"What happens now?" Robb asked.

Her mother looked at him and then the King, and Robb glanced at his father.

"Is he..."

Father gave him a strong look, and her brother cleared his throat, turning to the king.

"Are you going to take him now, your grace?" he corrected his question. "To King's Landing.”

King Rhaegar exhaled slowly.

"I think Jon is ready," he told them. "And I want him to have time to learn how to be a prince."

Jon looked from her parents to his father, looking unsure.

"What if I say no?" he asked. "What if I don't want to go? "

"You won't," her father told him. "I know you, Jon."

"So you are going to send me South?" he asked, almost in a bratty tone. "To make me a prince I never wanted to be?!"

His father shook his head.

"You are my only heir, Jon, my only child," the King told him, softly. "My only family. I need you."

Jon's shoulders fell.

"You won't be alone," he promised. "You already have brides waiting for you to come home, to turn the right age."

Sansa frowned. Brides? What was he talking about?

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, confused.

"You'll help me reunite the seven kingdoms, son," the King smiled, encouraging. "And your wives."

The room became tense, but the King didn't seem to care.

"Wives?" Jon repeated.

"The High Septon and the Faith recently came to an agreement," he decided. "You know how Targaryen Kings before us have had multiple wives," he reminded them.

Sansa swallowed down.

"We have settled engagements for you," his father affirmed. "With one lady for each Kingdom, from each head family."

Her father stood up, looking tense, but the King didn't seem to care.

"Margaery Tyrell, Asha Greyjoy and Arianne Martell have already been chosen," he told him. "There is a girl who might be the chosen one for the Lannister's, Lady Myrcella Lannister. She is their oldest girl."

"We haven't found a girl in the Riverlands yet," he continued. "But Lord Frey is eager to offer his daughters and granddaughters. And of course, we were merciful enough to legitimise one of Lord Robert's daughters to represent the Stormlands."

Sansa's blood froze in her veins, and her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

"What about the North?" Jon asked, looking fearful.

The king looked directly at her father, unfazed, and Sansa watched her parents exchanging looks.

"We agreed on an engagement between Jon and Sansa when the king arrived," her father spoke between teeth. "But we didn't know you would have more than one wife."

"But I'm sure you would accept anyway," King Rhaegar spoke, emphatic. "After all, what greater honour there is than being the wife of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. She will be a princess! Potentially, his Queen."

Robb stood up with anger all over his face.

"Father, you can't!" he almost shouted. "Jon sees Sansa as a sister!"

Her parents looked away from Robb, and he turned to Jon.

"You can't say yes to this! Jon, you can't!"

Jon looked down.

"It's not like I have any choice," he said simply.

"You don't have any choice?" Robb shouted.

"Boys," her father tried to step between them, pushing Robb out of the way.

"Let them," the King sat down. 'It's best that they settle this now so the feelings won't linger."

Father seemed like he wanted to fight for a moment, but mother stood up, grabbing his hand.

"The King knows best," she spoke slowly, looking right in his direction.

"She is our sister!" Robb pushed Jon's shoulders.

"She is your sister!" Jon argued. "She doesn't even look at me. Your mother made sure to keep us apart the whole time, you know that."

Robb's shoulders sagged, and the adults moved slowly away, with the King guiding them along.

The moment they left, Jon walked off to take a seat, far too close to where she was hiding with Bran.

"I can't believe they lied to me this whole time," he exhaled. "My whole life!"

Robb walked to him.

"Don't sound so regretful," he rolled his eyes.

Jon shook his head.

"I'm serious!" he argued. "My whole life I've been treated like less than anyone else! Like I'm just someone to be stepped on. And then, out of nowhere, I'm a prince, and they want me to go down South with a bloody king who spent 14 years pretending I was nothing to him?! And then he comes around and says he is my father, about how much he loved my mother and how he just wanted me to be like her?!"

Robb scoffed.

"You are so dramatic," her brother spoke. "This is great! You'll be king! With seven wives! If that was me, I would think I was highly blessed by the gods."

Jon shook his head, but chuckled.

"You were literally about to punch me for being engaged to Sansa."

"Sansa is twelve," Robb affirmed. "I don't want her to get married. Ever."

Sansa pressed her lips together.

What was Robb talking about?

Never?

He couldn't want her to be stuck North forever, right? Without a husband and a family?!

"But at least, I know she will marry a good guy," he put a hand on Jon's back. "Who will treat her the way she deserves to be treated."

Jon sighed.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he sighed. "I'm not cut out to be king."

Her brother bumped his arm.

"We were raised side by side," he reminded him. "I know you are ready. I would have you be lord with me when we got older, you know? So... It's the same thing. But bigger."

Jon chuckled.

"Seven times bigger."

"With seven times the wives!" Robb added, excited.

Sansa scowled. Seven wives?

She was going to share him.

No, she didn't like that.

"Sansa is going to be my queen," he affirmed.

Robb watched him with a bit of interest and hesitancy.

"You don't know the other girls yet."

"I don't need to," he affirmed, shrugging. "Sansa will be my Queen."

Sansa swallowed down. Could he be serious?

"The king looks at me like I'm a dragon, like him," he spoke softly. "But I was raised by your family. I'm a Stark. I want to honour that."

Robb smiled, and they sat together in silence for a moment before her brother-side hugged Jon.

"You'll always be my brother," he affirmed. "Wolf or dragon."

She looked at Bran, who was watching them with big eyes, and touched his shoulder.

"Come on," Sansa whispered, "Let's leave them be."

They walked out together, and her little brother beamed when the two were back in the yard.

"Aren't you excited?" he asked. "You are going to be Queen!"

Sansa hesitated.

She was going to be Queen.

. . .

"The King's Wives" was posted on my Patreon back on June! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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#The King's Wives series #jon snow x sansa stark fanfiction #jon snow #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow smut #sansa stark #arianne martell #asha greyjoy #myrcella baratheon #mya stone #margaery tyrell #jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsa smut

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crazysleepydreams · 1 year

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REUNION

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

AGES:

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

SOULMARKS:

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

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

REUNION PT3: GROWING UP STARKS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benjen!” Roared Ned.

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

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

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

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

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

"Do what?" Bran asked absentmindedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For real?” Asked the shocked girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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west1rosi · 10 months

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Do you have any ships in mind for your muses?

not exactly. I mean sure, but i'm also a multishipper and i'm down to ship almost anything (canon x oc or canon x canon) like me and my bestie mari began writing margaer.y and jon as just a fun political thing and now i ship it to life. so it's just a question of talking but more importantly, see if chemistry works .

#⸻ . ✷ ❛ out of character ❜ 〉the dead are coming .#look we ain't picky here #i literally have a robb x myrcella verse and a jon x myrce.lla #jon x. marg #and even robb x renly this is a shipping real state #even gendr.y and sansa !

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

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Hey there just m back again with a request where it’s cerisi and roberts daughter who’s married to Robb. Can it be it’s after the red wedding she survived and she spent her time hinting those who participated in the red wedding but she gets brutally killed and somehow like whoever did it brings her corpse to Cersi and her reaction and maybe Tyrion reacting to the news too as he was quite close to her

Robb Stark*Don't Die For Me

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon!F!Reader

Word count: 3638

Warnings: the red wedding, robb dying, cat dying, reader dying, description of war/injuries, pregnancy, angst

Masterlist Here

The gown was made from thick snow-white wool, trimmed with a soft grey wolf fur with streaks of black. Stag horns were embroidered along the cuffs, yellow gold fastenings holding it together. Lannister red hearts were hand stitched by Myrcella around the hem of the dress. It was warm and thick and span out like a dancer’s dress whenever you twirled.

People gasped when they saw you enter the gods wood, arms linked with your father as you approached your husband. Robb wore simpler clothes with a heavy fur cloak over his shoulders that he would soon drape over your frame.

Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.

Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.

You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.

She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.

You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.

The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.

You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.

You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.

“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”

“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”

“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”

You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.

It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.

The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.

You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.

Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?

Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.

Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.

Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.

Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”

“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”

When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.

“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.

“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.

Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.

“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.

When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.

You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.

Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”

“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”

“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.

You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.

“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.

You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.

“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.

“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.

You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.

However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.

This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.

Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.

The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.

Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.

If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.

When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.

You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.

You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.

For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.

When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.

Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.

“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”

“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”

“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.

“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.

Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”

“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.

Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.

“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.

His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.

“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.

“Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”

“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “

“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.

“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.

“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark angst #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones angst #baratheon daughter #robert baratheron x daughter reader #got #got x reader #got imagine #got angst #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader

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hikarimiyanaga · 5 months

Text

The Queen's Bride (Part 1)

Summary :

Being a rich man's kid isn't as exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

You have no freedom.

Every choice has been made for you ever since you were born.

What you eat. What course you were going to study. What school you're going to.

Even the one you were going to marry.

So to your surprise, your father has finally chosen one thing right for you.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Look who's finally watching Game of Thrones. Surprise, surprise, I fell in love with Daenerys.

"This is bullshit!" Jon, your cousin, shouts as he paces around you.

Both of you were just given two names.

Two people you never met that you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

"Who the fuck is Ygritte and why do I have to marry her?" Jon shouts in frustration and you shrug.

"I mean, Father could've paired you with one of the Lannisters. Myrcella is an omega-"

"Shut up." Jon glares at you.

"You have to admit it. Ygritte is pretty as fuck."

"Lucky for Robb, huh? He's the heir so he could choose freely."

"She is. But- I don't know her, Y/N." Jon sighs as he sits next to you.

"Lucky asshole." You slap his arm.

"He's my big brother."

"He is. I wish I could be the heir."

"Seriously? You? Jon Stark of Winterfell Corp? Are you hearing me?"

"Shut up." The two of you look at each other then laugh. "Yours is pretty too, by the way. And a Targaryen too."

"Why them? Our mottos are literally parallels."

"Yeah. Winter is Coming."

"Fire and Blood. Like why her?" You groan at the ceiling.

"Just be glad that she's pretty. Some don't get that lucky."

"Are you talking about-" Jon nods and you sigh.

"I just wish we had freedom."

"Me too. Y/N. Me too."

You get your bag and look at the empty apartment around you.

"I need Sansa to room with me. Like gods, this place is fucking big enough for ten people at least." You mumble to yourself as you leave the apartment.

Just like everything else in your life. The apartment was provided by your Father, Ned Stark. You could count the number of times on your fingers that you've actually talked to him rather than just receive orders or scolding from him.

Your phone rings just as you get inside the Westeros University. You answer it as you see your little sister's name.

"Y/N! How are you?" You smile at Arya's voice.

"I'm good, Arry. Where are you?" How is she calling you right now?

"I'm at home. There was a lice problem at school today so we went home! Are you free??" You grin at her exciting tone.

"In two hours, I will be. Why?"

"Can we go play? Mom said she'll let me go to the mall if I'm with you!"

"Sure, can you wait there and behave?"

"Yep! See you later!"

"See you." You say softly and smile as you go to your first and last class of the day. You were so glad that you chose your own schedule. You sit down at your usual seat and hum as you take out your laptop. Looks like professor Varys is late today.

Westeros University is the biggest University in all of Westeros. It has lessons even in magic.

"Did you hear, Y/N?" You look up as Oberyn sits beside you. You were somewhat friends. He can charm anyone in a room while you can outread anyone in a room. Truth be told, even you didn't know why he talked to you.

"Hear what?"

"Not interested in rumors as usual?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Even if Varys tells us otherwise, I still don't like rumors and hearsays." Oberyn nods and grins in satisfaction.

"Which is why you make the perfect audience." You sigh. "Listen to this. Someone is doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Seeing if the dragons will choose them."

"Seriously? That thing hasn't been done in like 200 years."

"Right? But someone is brave enough to do it now. You know what it means, right?"

"Yeah. They get to sit on the Iron Throne regardless of their last name."

"And?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"And what?"

"Complete freedom!" You tilt your head at him. "No more choices by parents! No arranged marriages!"

"Damn. Sounds like a dream come true."

"For you guys. I still don't get why you guys won't love freely."

"Because last names have a value of their own. Here at Westeros at least. Oh. And Westeros Conglomerate too." Oberyn shakes his head.

"What you guys should value is talent, not blood."

"Meritocracy rather than blood right. Reasonable." Oberyn looks at you. "I don't make the choices though."

"Marry the king then."

"I'd rather die, Oberyn. I'd rather eat my own shit."

"Still hate men?"

"Only romantically." Oberyn chuckles just as Varys comes through the door.

"You're missing out on like half of the world then." You give him a smile.

"I don't think I am."

You hum as you park your car in front of the Stark Mansion. You were just getting your bag when you feel a pair of arms circle around your legs. You look down and see Arya smiling at you.

"Hey, Arya!" You scoop her up and she squeals. Arya is only 9 years younger but you love doing this to her. "Where's Ma and Father?"

"Dad is still at work! Ma is inside!" You put her down and nod.

"Come on, then. I'll tell Ma that I'll take you to the mall." Arya grins at you and she begins to tell you about her classmates and school.

"And then this one guy-"

"Y/N! You're home!" Catelyn Stark rushes over and hugs you. You hug her just as tightly.

"Hey, Ma. Arya wanted to play with me and it's been months since I've been home so I figured I should take her."

"I'm sure she understands that you're busy with university and all."

"I know, Ma! But school is out and she said she was free." Arya pouts from beside you and you smile.

"I am free, no worries." You ruffle Arya's hair and she smiles at you.

"Be sure to be back for Dinner then."

"We'll buy some before we get home. Are Robb and Father-"

"Busy." You nod in understanding then take Arya's hand.

"You ready for an afternoon with me? Your best sister?"

"YEAH! We'll destroy those high scores in the arcade!" You grin and agree.

You come home with a passed out Arya, a bag full of plushies, and a bag with food.

"You actually made her sleep? You are a godsend." You laugh at your mom and grin.

"Once you get Arya's quirks and use them against her, she can make herself run out of energy."

"Please don't tell-"

"Ma, she wants to. She can afford to learn it still."

"But her marri-"

"She's still 9, ma. She doesn't need to think about that yet."

"Right. Are you staying for dinner at least?"

"Sure. Is Sansa-" Before you finish your sentence, someone has already hugged you.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You turn around and find your other little sister, Sansa Stark.

"Well, I had to exhaust this one so." Sansa looks at Arya who was cuddling your neck still.

"Whoa. Arya never sleeps this early."

"Like I said. Exhausted. Are Brandon and Rickon here?"

"Yep! They should be getting back from Winterfell by now."

"What did they do there??"

"Father wanted to show them something. Are you staying tonight?"

"If you're willing to share your bed."

"ALWAYS!" You shush her and smile.

"I'll just be putting this one in her bed then I'll come down. Here." You give the bag full of food to Catelyn and smile. "Some of my favorites."

"I'll plate them up." You nod and begin your walk with Arya still sleeping while cuddling your neck.

"You're becoming heavier, Arya. I wonder if I should do some training just so I can carry you around."

"Y/N! You're back!" Brandon says then hugs you.

"Hey, little brother." You kiss his head and smile as he beams at you.

"SIS!" Rickon shouts then tackles you to no avail.

"Heya, baby bro." You pick him up and grin. "Did you grow??"

"I did! I'm defeating Arya soon!" You grin at him.

"Don't let her hear you!" You ruffle his hair then turn to Sansa. "Did you do your homework yet?"

"No? Will you help me later?" She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you groan at her. You admit that you're too weak to your siblings.

"Fine. But no talking about boys. I swear to God if I hear one more thing about-"

"But Ser Loras is just so dreamy." You look at her with a deadpan expression.

"Try me and I will sleep besides Arya." Sansa pouts.

"Fine. No boy talk." She grumbles. "Stingy."

"I'm gay. I'd rather marry another omega as long as she's a woman." Catelyn smiles as she sees you getting along with your siblings.

"Do not plant ideas in their head."

"Ma, Sansa is as straight as a ruler. These two don't even know what their second genders are." Catelyn rolls her eyes at you. "That reminds me, when's your test?" You look at Sansa as you place Rickon at his seat.

"This Monday! I'm so excited to confirm that I'm an Omega!"

"And if you're a beta?" You ask and Catelyn slaps your arm. "What? There's nothing wrong about being a beta! I wanted to be one before."

"You did?" Sansa asks and you nod. "Why?"

"More options." Catelyn hits your head and you laugh.

"Why? Does being an omega lessen your options?"

"Technically, I can't have another omega as my soulmate. Not that it matters."

"Oh yeah, dad said he sent you someone." You roll your eyes at that.

"He sent a file of someone. He wouldn't just let some stranger in my apartment."

"Who is it?? Can we know??" You groan at the excitement in Sansa's voice. There's nothing more that interests her than love talk.

"She's a Targaryen."

"The Dragon Family!" Rickon shouts and you ruffle his hair.

"Yup! Bran, do you know their motto?" Brandon hums as he gets some food.

"Yeah. Fire and Blood, right?"

"Yup! You all will get some ice cream. I brought some earlier." Catelyn glares at you. "What?"

"Cavities."

"I only visit once in a while, Ma. Just this once." Catelyn pinches your cheek. "Ow! Give! Give!"

"Just this once and don't ever do this again without saying anything to me."

"Yes, Ma! I got it! Ow!" Catelyn finally lets you go and you hold your cheek. You pout at her. "You didn't have to pinch that hard."

"You know how I feel about sweets." You sigh.

"I know. Sorry."

"Good thing the ice cream didn't give Rickon sugar rush."

"Yeah. It was a relief that Ma didn't pinch me."

"Those two boys really love you and adore you."

"They do." You look at Sansa and pat her hair. "I hope you become a beta, baby girl." Sansa scoffs at you.

"Wha- why!?" You smile sadly at her.

"So then you'll have more freedom." Sansa holds your hand. "Sadly. As an Omega, everything is controlled for you here in Westeros. Specially if you have a last name of a noble."

"Y/N." You squeeze her hand and grin.

"Hopefully, you and Arya get to decide your own futures. And your own partners." Sansa gets teary eyed at that. You let go of her hand then pat her hair again. "Time to get ready for bed. I'll just check on Arya for a second, okay?" Sansa nods at you and you close her door before covering your mouth with your hand.

Freedom. What a grand word. For you, it was thrown out the window when you got your test results.

Everyone says that Omegas have equal standings with Alphas. That the world is getting better.

"What a load of fucking bullshit." You mumble to yourself as you make your way to Arya's room.

You open the door and see that Arya is still fast asleep. You get to her bed and kiss her head.

"I hope you'll have more freedom than me, little one." You tuck her in and leave.

PS.

Jon is a Stark here and Catelyn knows he's Lyanna's son but no one knows who his father is. Let's just pretend for a second that he's not a Targaryen.

I actually was going to go the usual route for this aka Alpha Reader but decided against it. Omega Reader just works better for the angst inside my head.

#daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #omegaverse #omegaverse fanfic #omegaverse fic

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

Text

A Lion In the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 24)

WARNING: Blood, gore, mentions of rape

Also, cleganebowl reimagined?

—————

After spending just over a month away from the capital, Tywin and I had finally returned to Kings Landing. And, in an odd change of events, the Starks simply decided to come with us. I knew it was convenient to travel as a group, but part of me also wondered if perhaps Robb Stark was simply too hesitant to let Tywin take the sword.

In any case, they’d come with Jon Snow, Brienne of Tarth, and Sandor Cleagane. Just a few of the hundreds of mouths that Tywin seemed to lament needing to feed.

“I don’t know why your grandmother felt the need to invite so many damned people to our wedding. Most of these lords and ladies I’ve only ever heard of,” he grumbled, looking over a few sheets of parchment as I cuddled into him. We were still in bed, and yet he had already begun his task of wedding planning.

“It’s what’s expected of a wedding like ours, Tywin. And it’s not as if you don’t possess the funds,” I pointed out, letting my fingers trace along his chest. He gave a low hum, flipping through his papers with false concentration.

“We didn’t even have this many in attendance for Joffrey’s wedding, or Tommen’s for that matter,” he grumbled, setting the sheets down on his nightstand and gazing up at the top of the canopy.

“Well, we had just ended the war during Joffrey’s, and we were attempting to preserve some of the lost coin during Tommen’s,” I reasoned, kissing along his collarbone. His head leaned toward me, but he did not look at me.

“Either way, I’m going to ask her to remove at least 25% of the people on this list. It seems it has only grown in my absence,” he said, sighing and gazing out the window. The sun was growing quite high, yet Tywin had remained in bed due to my protests.

“My grandmother is taking care of food, Tywin. That’s the biggest expense that comes with guests, so I don’t see why you’re complaining,” I told him, though I already knew it was more out of his dislike for people than anything else. He didn’t desire to be a politician at his own wedding.

“Kevan is refusing to let me do the planning so far as entertainment goes. He and Genna have been planning everything together. It’s making me nervous,” Tywin revealed, to which I raised both eyebrows.

“Your sister is here?”

“Yes. I’m certain you’ll run into her at one point or another. She’s rather witty, the two of you will get along just fine,” he assured me, sitting up in bed so he could stretch his back. I sat up alongside him, massaging his shoulders to help him relax.

“I’ll be sure to ask her plenty of embarrassing questions about you, to which I hope she provides embarrassing answers,” I said, smiling when he glared at me over his shoulder. I pressed a kiss to his warm back, running my hands over his shoulder blades. I was constantly touching him, it seemed. And vice versa.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, (Y/N), if you would greet the Martells when they arrive at the end of this week. Trystane and Myrcella will be there too, of course, but it would be appropriate for you to accompany them,” Tywin requested, sighing out as I continued to massage him. I could feel the degree of his stress in every individual muscle.

“Of course I will,” I said, though I paused as if another sentence was on the verge of my tongue.

“But..?” He questioned, looking at me over his shoulder. I shook my head.

“There’s no but. I was merely going to ask if Ellaria Sand is going to be with them,” I said, laying back down and trying to calm myself down now. If Ellaria Sand was coming with them, it meant I would finally have to fulfill my side of an agreement.

“Yes, she will be. Why?”

“I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much for what I did to her daughter,” I lied, not wishing to tell Tywin of my plans. He would most certainly not allow it if he knew what I intended to do.

When I had gone to Dorne with Jaime, I had promised to send Ellaria Sand a small gift. Or, a large gift, technically. I had promised her The Mountain’s head.

At the time I’d made that promise, the mountain was already dead. Or at least, I had thought he was. Upon returning to King's Landing, I learned the bone chilling truth, which was that he had quite literally been brought back to life.

Somehow, through Qyburn’s talents, the mountain was still alive and just as strong as he had been. It had disturbed Tywin for a while, but loyalty was loyalty, and that had not changed even in his… revived state.

I, however, felt nothing but fear and disgust when I saw the Mountain, and for that reason, Tywin had assigned him to protect Cersei. Though, if I was honest, I knew that Tywin felt uncomfortable around the creature even if he was loyal.

But now, with Ellaria’s arrival, I was going to have to kill him, and it was a terrifying thought. Normally, the thought of killing excited me. But the mountain? I was terrified.

More than anything, I was nervous. How on earth does one kill something that’s already dead?

“She wouldn’t dare to do anything. She would jeopardize Dorne’s position, which is not wise when Oberyn’s nephew has married Myrcella,” Tywin said, interrupting my thoughts. He leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead before rising from our bed and pulling on his robe.

I watched him begin to dress himself for the day, but my mind was elsewhere. All I could think of was The Mountain.

Gods, I was going to have to kill The Mountain.

—————

It was late at night, and I’d told Tywin to go to sleep without me, as my grandmother had required my assistance with a certain number of things in relation to the wedding.

Though Tywin may have suspected me, he was compliant enough. And that freed me to be here, down the hall from Cersei’s chambers at an ungodly hour.

But even from where I was, I could see the Mountain standing outside her door as faithfully as ever, and I knew he could not see me from this angle.

He was mechanical, standing perfectly still at his post. Part of me wondered if he was even breathing at all.

The lights were dim in the hall, as only the constantly flickering candles were available without the regular sunlight. I was glad for it too, because it had aided my sneaking, and I had made it thus far. I was in leather armor, so as to be quicker and quieter than usual, but I still feared that the conflict might be overheard.

It was a trying task, attempting to cut off a man’s head quickly and quietly. I hoped I could draw the mountain back into the courtyard, and give myself a bit more room to get away from and dodge him.

I had my daggers, my sword, and some throwing knives, but I was still nervous. I often wished I had been trained with a spear, for perhaps I could’ve finished what Oberyn Martell started.

Either way, I had to be strategic, and I felt my best bet was to sneak up from behind, knock his helmet off, and slight his throat.

Though, the slit his throat part was wishful thinking. I truthfully didn’t think I was tall enough to reach. My best bet was to knock his helmet off and jump onto him. If I could hang on his back, then perhaps I’d be able to get his throat from there.

The dangerous thing was, it was also entirely just as likely that he would be able to knock me off, or slam me backwards into a wall.

Now that would be deadly.

Either way, it was the best option I had, and I found myself quietly inching towards the giant form, daggers in both hands.

When I was close enough to jump at him without giving him time to react, I picked up my pace and began running at him, letting out a grunt as I jumped and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He reacted quickly, struggling as I removed his helmet and reaching back for me. I evaded his hands, holding on for dear life as he tried to shake me off.

I stabbed one of my daggers straight into his neck, and he silently began to back up with extreme aggression. He was attempting what I knew he would, and still, even despite knowing that, I was unable to remove myself from him by the time I was slammed backward into the stone wall.

I gasped out as I made rough contact with it, at least removing my blade from his neck as I fell to the ground. I was struggling for air, but I needed to move.

As the Mountain drew and swung his sword at me, I jumped away just in time, eyes wide with fear as I crawled back and forced myself to stand up. There was no blood pouring from the wound I created, and I realized then that it might damn well be impossible to actually kill him.

At least in a normal sense.

He would not bleed, he would not tire. The only way he probably could be stopped was if I sincerely chopped his head off, and that was going to be quite tricky to pull off.

The only advantages I had were speed and flexibility, but even then, it didn’t matter if there was only one way for me to kill him. What I needed to do was take out his eyes, for the rest of him was covered in the finest armor, and I wouldn’t be able to hack off a leg and disable him.

Yes, I needed the eyes.

I found myself dashing for the courtyard, drawing him out into the space and swallowing. Gods, how was I going to go about this?

I reached for my throwing knives, hoping that perhaps I could miraculously take them out. It would require perfect aim, but perhaps…

I threw with as much confidence as I could muster, one blade landing in his cheek and the other landing in his eye. He pulled both out as if it was nothing, letting them drop to the floor and clank on the stone. I felt my stomach sink as they did, and I cursed out as the Mountain brought his sword down at me with extreme power.

I avoided him by a miracle, rolling away from him and drawing my own sword. My hands were shaking, and for the first time in years I was afraid of someone else in combat.

He continued to swing at me, and I blocked him each time, though his sword was so large and so heavy that I had to strain myself to keep from being crushed under my own blade.

I was unable to hold the next swing, and he slammed the handle of his blade into the side of my head, and I cried out, lifting my hand and feeling the cut on my temple.

There was no time to care though, because I was quickly back on my feet and attempting to evade him.

The Mountain was relentless in his attacks, and I could feel my arms slowly beginning to give out. I knew I needed to be confident, but I did not feel good about this fight whatsoever.

I’d been using his blind eye as an advantage, but it wasn’t helping me to any extreme degree. Again, he brought his sword down, and I couldn’t fight back anymore. My sword was knocked clean out of my hands, and I felt an odd fear run through me as I moved back.

I continued to evade his sword with my speed, daggers in my hands again, but I saw no possible way to actually kill him.

Just then, as the Mountain began to lift his sword, I saw a blade plunge through his back and come out from his chest. My eyes widened when I saw Sandor Clegane standing behind him, fury in his eyes as he wounded his brother.

He learns exactly what I had, though, which was that this creature did not bleed and feel pain as we did. In the Mountain��s distraction, I ran for my sword and throwing knives, trying to find an opportunity as the two brothers fought.

The sound of Sandor’s growls, and of their swords clanking against each other had no doubt woken a few people, and I began to grow nervous.

How was I to explain this?

I pushed that thought back, now feeling the same confidence I always did with Sandor’s help. I ran at the Mountain from behind once more, mounting his back and reaching around his head. I stabbed his other eye out, and he was sufficiently blinded.

In doing this, though, I had to sacrifice myself. The mountain let himself fall backwards, and I was being crushed under his weight. Additionally, my head had smacked against the floor, and everything around me was spinning as I gasped for air.

Sandor pulled his brother off of me, but I still felt absolutely horrible. Through my blurry vision, though, I could see that Sandor had disarmed the Mountain, and was now viciously punching him.

I also saw someone in the hall run by, and I knew our time was limited. They would most assuredly be running to find guards.

I heard a loud bang, and looked over to see the Mountain on top of Sandor, choking him. Even without eyes, he’d managed to overpower the Hound, and it seemed as though he was feeling around his face.

I’d let Oberyn die this way, I wouldn’t let it happen to anyone else.

Despite the spinning of the room and the deep pain in my head, I forced myself to sit up, clutching my sword as I caught my breath. I made my way onto my feet, steadying myself and adjusting my grip. Gods, I was in so much pain.

I kept going, though. If I couldn’t reach him in time, I would be next. I inhaled deeply and approached the two men, the Hound beginning to scream out as his brother pushed his fingers into his eyes.

It was only for a second however, as I raised my sword and cut the Mountain’s head clean off. In my trance-like state I watched it tumble to the ground, and I heard Sandor’s screams go silent. The large body collapsed, and after a moment he pushed it off of him. Blood was dripping from his eyes, and I wondered if he was going to go blind.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes, and I felt great relief as I collapsed back to the floor. The screams had most assuredly woken even more people, and I could hear the faint clanking of guards. I laid back, looking up at the stars through all my pain. I had hit my head miserably hard, and I was trying to pull myself together but I couldn’t.

Sandor crawled over to me, lifting my head into his lap and trying to get my attention.

“My lady, we have to go. We have to leave,” he said softly, trying to help me up. I could only cry out, tears beginning to stream down my face.

“I n-need his head. H-his head… I promised I’d give it to Ellaria Sand,” I whispered through my tears, needing Sandor to know.

“It’s yours, my lady. I don’t bloody care what you do with him. He’s dead, that’s all that matters. Are you alright?” He questioned, looking into my eyes with deep concern. The tears wouldn’t stop, even though the pain didn’t feel harsh enough to really warrant sobbing.

“I-I’ll be fine, go. If Cersei knows you helped she might try to blame the Starks,” I mumbled, trying to push him away. He swallowed, unable to move until the sound of armor really started to get close.

“I’ll see to you later, my lady.”

With that, I was left alone, and I continued to cry as the soldiers approached. They were Lannister men, I could tell by the way their armor clanked. A horrible panic filled me when I realized that in my current state, any one of them could easily rape me.

With that fear, I tried to crawl away from them when they approached, even if it was nonsensical. One of them bent down, trying to observe my face in the dark.

“Is that the Mountain?” I heard one of them mutter in shock. A few whispers of affirmation followed suit.

“Gods, this is Lady (Y/N) Tyrell. My lady, what’s wrong?” The man bending over me asked softly, surprised by my tears.

“M-My head,” I mumbled, sniffling. I was so confused and overwhelmed I’d stopped crawling.

“Did you do this? Did you kill the Mountain?” He questioned, looking at the detached head warily. I nodded, blubbering. I hated how pathetic I felt, but I knew the way I’d hit my head must’ve caused some sort of reaction.

“He must’ve thrown her down during the fighting. Lads, help me get her to her chambers,” he said to the other men, to which a few of them laughed.

“Oh I’d be glad to. Think she’ll remember any of this in the morning?”

I had no clue who’d said it, but it made me attempt to crawl again before a voice called out.

“All of you, get away from her.”

All of them looked up, and I turned my head, finding the last person I would’ve expected to vouch for me. Cersei stood there in her nightgown, a look of distinct anger on her face. The men who’d made the comment quickly backed away, bowing their heads upon realizing that she was watching.

“My lady, we had no idea-“

“Be quiet. You, take off your helmet. What is your name?” Cersei questioned the man, and he gave it to her. I hardly processed what was being said.

“Thank you. I’ll have your tongue for it. Now, however many of you it takes, get the Mountain’s body to Qyburn’s chambers and tell him to find me immediately. One of you go summon my father,” she commanded sharply, bringing me great surprise. It seemed even despite her great hatred for me—or at least her perceived hatred—she was not so low as to permit men’s cruelty.

She came to me then, helping me from the ground and into the hall. I found myself being laid on a sofa in her chambers, and she sat with me.

“T-Thank you,” I whispered as she wiped my tears away, putting a pillow under my head.

“There’s no blood other than your temple. Qyburn will treat you well,” she said matter of factly, wetting a cloth in a bowl and then bringing it over to wipe down my forehead.

“I-Is Tywin coming?” I asked softly, having recalled her mentioning her father. At least, I thought I did. Everything felt hazy currently.

“Yes… my father is coming.”

Just then, the door burst open, and I heard a panicked voice curse out. In an instant, Tywin himself was at my side, also in his dressing gown.

“What happened?” He asked Cersei, observing me and checking for any sign of serious injury.

“She killed the Mountain. Cut his head clean off. Though, she must’ve been hurt in the process because I woke to the sound of screams,” Cersei said, watching as Tywin sat beside me on the sofa and held my cheek. I felt safe with him beside me, and my tears were beginning to slow.

“Seven hells… how did she end up here?”

“I went outside when I heard the guards. One of them was insinuating she wouldn’t remember it if he raped her. I stepped in then and promised him I would take his tongue.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good. Did you send for Qyburn?”

“I did that too.”

Tywin gave a hum of satisfaction and began to pet my hair, looking down at me with concern. The anger would come later, I was certain.

Realizing I could hardly comprehend what was being said, they continued to talk.

“You said she murdered the Mountain?”

“Yes. Jaime mentioned she wanted to give his head to Ellaria Sand when he first saw what Qyburn had done. She promised it to her in Dorne.”

“Gods, she was asking about Ellaria Sand this morning. I should’ve known something was wrong.”

“Well, Ellaria Sand will certainly have it. There’s no use in Qyburn bringing him back if he’s blind.”

“She’s going to make a habit out of blinding her opponents, it seems.”

There was silence for a rather long interval, and then:

“She’ll be alright, father. There’s no bleeding.”

“I know, Cersei. I know.”

That was the last thing I could recall at all before going unconscious.

—————

I woke in my own bed, finding Cerella beside me. After I blinked a few times, her face lit up, and she shot from her chair.

“She’s awake, my lord.”

Tywin came inside from the balcony, relief on his face as he approached me. He reached for one of my hands, giving it a small squeeze.

“What happened?” I asked warily, not entirely remembering. Something felt off with my head, though it mostly just felt like a headache.

“You killed the Mountain, my dear. He must’ve thrown you down during the fight. Qyburn assessed that you obtained a concussion,” Tywin informed, which brought back hazy memories. I couldn’t exactly remember the night in perfect detail, but I recalled the Hound. I recalled being unable to stop crying.

And I recalled Cersei helping me into her chambers.

“Cersei helped me…” I muttered, thinking about how surprised I had been by it when it had happened.

“Yes, she did…” Tywin responded, though there was a pause in his voice, almost as if he was debating whether or not he should reveal something.

“What?” I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

“Do you remember why?”

“Why she helped me?”

Tywin gave a noise of affirmation, and I thought about it. I recalled the guards, and crawling away from them. From there to Cersei’s chambers, there was a large gap in my memory. I shook my head.

“One of the guards insinuated that he was going to take advantage of you. Cersei intervened and brought you into her chambers,” he explained, sitting beside me on the bed. I nodded, processing that information.

“How is your head, my lady?” Cerella questioned after a moment, not wanting to interrupt us.

“I feel as if I have a headache,” I replied, sitting up carefully and blinking a few times. Cerella nodded.

“A bit of a headache and memory loss are expected. Qyburn said you will be fine by the time of the wedding, it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things,” she assured me, to which I nodded.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just a bit more than a day. I’ll bring some food right now, though it’s best if you stay away from wine for a few days,” Cerella suggested, and I nodded in agreement. She left us then, and when the door closed Tywin gave me a sweet kiss.

“I should have known something was wrong when you didn’t come to bed. I suspected you were lying about needing to help your grandmother, but I didn’t expect you to do something quite so foolish,” he reprimanded after a moment, sighing out and shaking his head. The kiss had been a sign of his gratitude that I was alive, now I would get the lecture.

“His head, what happened to his head?” I asked quickly, needing to make sure my efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“Qyburn is keeping it safe for you until the Martells arrive,” Tywin said, though he was completely annoyed as he did. I would’ve felt bad, but I was fine now, wasn’t I?

“Tywin-“

“It was stupid. It was utterly and completely stupid. Time and time again you seem utterly thrilled to get yourself killed, despite telling me that you would stop. I will not stand idly by and continue to watch you conduct yourself this way, (Y/N). If I need to assign guards to you, I will,” he said, a slight tremble in his stern voice. I scoffed.

“Assign guards? Don’t be ridiculous, Tywin. I’m not eager to get myself killed anymore, but I owe Ellaria Sand that debt,” I denied his claims, shaking my head firmly. His eyes gave a slight twitch.

“It’s not ridiculous. I want to be able to go about my day knowing for a fact that you are safe. If I can’t trust you not to behave recklessly, then I’ll ensure that you aren’t able to.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop behaving like one!”

I jumped a little as he raised his voice, but even despite his anger, I could see the tears welling in his eyes. We’d had this argument one too many times, I’d feared.

“I apologize for raising my voice, but you know my feelings on this. How many times must this conversation be had before you understand that it is not just your life, (Y/N)? I lost Joanna, I cannot lose you,” he said, eyebrows furrowing with a genuine concern and sadness. I felt myself soften, especially as he raised his hands to my face.

“Tywin…”

“I need you to be more cautious, (Y/N). I know I promised you whatever you wished, but this is the one thing I cannot grant you. I refuse to watch you put your life at risk so casually, for Ellaria Sand of all people. You have talent and you have ambition, I cannot take that away, but I’m simply asking you to consider what matters more,” he whispered, looking deep into my eyes as his words sank in. I knew he was right, I always had. It was just so difficult to ignore the desire to fight, to win.

But after the tourney, I had felt that recklessness mostly dissipate. My acts against the Mountain were not a product of that ambition, as I’d been scared shitless. It was compensation for the guilt that ate at me.

The guilt that I still felt for causing Oberyn’s death.

“I’m sorry, Tywin. I’m so sorry. I just- I had to. This time I had to. I’m done now, I promise. I swear above all else that it’ll stop, this was the last time,” I whispered, looking down. Tywin was scanning my face, as if trying to discern how truthful I was being.

“I know you miss the freedom of doing whatever you please, (Y/N). I’m sorry to take it from you. But I- I love you too much…” he muttered, pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, clutching his back. I was oddly emotional, and suddenly sacrificing the impulsive behavior felt trivial. I would do anything for this man, it seemed.

“Oh Tywin…”

We stayed like that for a while, and I felt Tywin shake for a moment as he choked back tears. The only thing that ever seemed to make him cry was the thought of losing me, and I had no doubt in my mind Joanna was part of it.

Never again.

When I pulled away, he had returned to himself, and I was glad to see it. Tywin had never been fond of showing too much emotion and I knew he preferred not to.

“It wasn’t just me, you know. The Hound appeared. I would’ve died if not for him. I took the Mountain’s head, yes, but I wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t come,” I mentioned, voice quiet. It was hard to admit that I’d needed help, but it was true. I owed the Hound my life. Plus, it might’ve soothed Tywin’s nerves a bit.

“Why wasn’t he there when the guards found you?” He asked, suddenly stern. I placed my hands on his chest to calm him.

“I told him to flee. I didn’t want to implicate the Starks somehow,” I explained, watching him relax a bit under my touch.

“Well, he’ll be rewarded handsomely for it. Though, it was you who blinded the Mountain, wasn’t it?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, of course it was. You told Cersei it’s become my signature, didn’t you? I wasn’t processing much of what was said, but I thought I heard that,” I asked, attempting to recall memories from that night. Slowly, things were coming back, including Cersei promising to cut out the tongue of the man who’d wanted to rape me.

“Yes, I did. You ought to name those daggers the blinders with how many eyes they’ve removed,” he suggested, to which I laughed and nodded.

“Perhaps I will. Do you think I’ll end up in any of the history books they write for the greatest fighters in Westeros?” I wondered, looking out the window somewhat solemnly.

“You will. I’ve already discussed the subject with Jaime at length. He would knight you, if you desired.”

Tywin had said it so casually, but my mouth fell open as I processed what I had just learned.

A knight?

I tried to consider what I’d wanted, not knowing if being called Ser (Y/N) Tyrell would fit me. I’d always admired knights, but in all honesty the way I fought was not honorable nor very knightly. Would I make a good knight?

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say…” I muttered, head whirling suddenly. Tywin cupped my cheek.

“If you don’t wish to be a knight, you don’t have to be. Visenya Targaryen is famous for her skills, and she was no knight,” he reasoned, both eyebrows raised a bit.

“I didn’t even know women could be knights. I’ve never- never heard of a female knight,” I said softly, feeling Tywin take one of my hands in his and give it a gentle squeeze.

“There are no rules against it.”

I sighed, knowing it was something I would need to think about more before I gave any answer. I recalled the day Loras had been knighted, and the pride I’d felt for him. But knighthood came with so many… responsibilities. So many rules. And I had always fought for myself, for enjoyment.

Just then, Cerella came through the door with some food, and she laid the tray across my lap.

“Eat slowly, my lady. I don’t want you to eat too much and throw up.”

“I will, thank you, Cerella.”

She nodded and left again, and I found myself sitting there as Tywin spooned the soup and raised it to my lips. I smiled, raising my eyebrows with amusement and carefully sipping the liquid.

“The Frey’s arrived this morning. So did Baelish and Lysa Arryn,” he informed me. I sighed, shaking my head. Gods, did all the worst of them have to arrive at the same time?

I said nothing though, as that was a problem for another time. What I needed now was peace. Peace and rest.

The wedding was two weeks away, and every time I remembered that, the excitement hit me full force. As I looked at the man sitting beside me, all I could consider was his love. Gods, I was so lucky.

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady

@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house lannister #tywin x reader #charles dance #asoiaf #a lion in the garden #tywin imagine

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winterrose527 · 4 days

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A Moment of One's Own: Chapter 3

#joncella #Jon x Myrcella #vaguely regency

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themockingpoint · 2 years

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Good morning!! Jon x Myrcella for the shipper ask?

The Ship Thing

Who Cooks?

Jon. Myrcella was a princess and Cersei never let her learn. Jon eventually taught her though

Who does Laundry and other chores?

Indoor chores is Myrcella (dishes, laundry etc) outdoor chores (mowing and trimming the lawn etc) is Jon. He helps indoors still (especially in winter) and she gardens so really it’s even.

How many children do they have?

Three. All daughters. But their house is the cousin/friend hang out so so many kids are around day and night.

Who’s more dominant?

Neither really are. Gun to their head they would say Jon but not really

Favorite Non-Sexual activity?

Reading together. Not even reading the same thing, but just being together while reading on the couch or bed or whatever

Favorite place together?

Winterfell Godswood

Any traditions?

Just the one that happens on Jon’s birthday 😉

Their “Song”?

Ballad of Mona Lisa by Panic! At the Disco. They both liked the song and the only one in their friend group that recognized the song and started listening to it together

What do they do for each other on Holiday?

When they are not wrangling children they always drink scotch together their first night.

Where was their honeymoon?

Cersei was ridiculous and insisted they go to numerous different places in like ten days (it looks bad on her if they don’t do something extravagant,the same problem arose with the wedding itself). They were so stressed and on the move that neither enjoyed their Honeymoon.

Where did they meet?

Winterfell Godswood. Robert was visiting Ned at the same time that Lyanna was. Myrcella was ten and got lost and Jon who was fourteen escorted her out. She originally had a crush on Robb but after this she was smitten. 🥰

What do they fight over?

Ghost in their pool. He clogs up the filter with his fur and Jon is always having to clean it out. Whenever Myrcella goes out to tan or swim, she allows Ghost to swim and it infuriates Jon

Pets?

Ghost. He died between their first and second child, but their oldest daughter loved him and he her. She used to ride on his back all the time. She was heartbroken when she was gone and when she was old enough she adopted another dog and named it Spectre to honor her old friend.

Where do they go on vacation?

Just not Casterly Rock or Storm’s End

#jon snow #myrcella baratheon #jon x myrcella #ask games #aemon the direknight #lady lion #ask game

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asharaxofstarfall · 7 months

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i think that my favourite “what if” scenario has to be “what if robert had been a good and loving husband to cersei”. other than jaime not killing aerys and rhaegar x lyanna not happening, it's the event that could have changed the story the most. all of their children are trueborn and cersei's prophecy doesn't happen, jon arryn lives, ned stays in the north, stannis isn't the rightful heir, no Wot5K, the tyrells don't get anywhere near the throne unless they're betrothing willas to myrcella (cersei would never let that happen and robert in this scenario would support her), jon probably doesn't leave for the wall for another few years...... there's so much potential

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

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welldonebeca · 1 year

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The King's Wives (VIII)

WC: 2.5k words Warnings: Tension. Light angst. Hurt/Comfort. Platonic Jon x Myrcella.

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Masterlist

Sansa knew she shouldn’t be so mad at Jon, but she understood the embarrassment Myrcella must’ve felt. The other wives seemed to treat her like a little child, and Jon spoke like that to her in front of all of them?

She walked through the corridors, unsure of where she could find her, and was ready to ask one of the ladies-in-waiting walking around when she realised a man was standing before a door, looking worried.

A very short man.

“Myrcella,” he knocked on the door. “Please, open the door.”

What came after was a loud mixture of a screech and a cry that could only have come from a girl her age.

“Go away!”

Sansa squeezed her hands together. Poor girl.

“Lord Tyrion,” she called him.

He turned his head to her, nearly snapping his neck, different coloured eyes focused on her face as his hand came to massage some muscle he must have pulled.

“Lady Stark,” he spoke surprised. “I’m trying to talk to my niece. Something seems to have happened.”

She nodded at his explanation. Men weren’t very welcomed at the wives’ wing, she had come to realise. This was the first time she saw anyone who wasn’t the King or a man of the Kingsguard inside.

“Our husband is what happened” Sansa sighed. They weren’t even married yet and here she was, dealing with his problems.

Lord Tyrion’s face changed to anger and worried.

“Did he say something to her?” he asked, posture changing.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Yes and no,” she tried to explain. “It’s more about what he didn’t say.”

He frowned, thinking along.

“The King is not a… man of words,” she decided.

He sighed.

“His grace has always struggled at being affectionate with Myrcella,” he shook his head. “Which on one hand is very respectful of him. Normally, it would be a blessing, but…”

He looked at the door, sad and apprehensive.

“But she wants his affections,” he confessed. “And seeing him giving them to his other wives and not to her is something that hurts her quite a bit.”

Of course it did.

“Well, it’s quite hard when your husband has six other women to attend to,” she agreed.

Lord Tyrion watched her face.

“I guess she needs more guidance,” he pointed out. “Perhaps with a fellow wife?”

The silent request was full of the worry she would see in a father.

“She does,” she agreed.

Who would have guessed a Lannister would hold this much love and worry for a niece.

She stepped closer to the door and knocked on it with the back of her fingers.

“Myrcella, it is me,” she told her. “May I come in?”

Her request was met with silence, and she sighed but turned to Tyrion, remembering a curiosity of hers.

“How did you come to be my husband’s hand?” she asked.

Lord Tyrion smiled a little.

“He visited Casterly Rock when he was 17, and I offered him a drinking bet. We drank and spoke for seven days and seven nights, and after we spent another seven days and seven nights fighting our hangovers, he promised me the position once he became king,” he told her, amused. “King Rhaegar already had told him he intended to retire once his grace was ready to reign. And here we are today.”

Sansa closed her head, trying not to shake her head. Oh, it had to be Jon.

“He is just a fool around women,” he told her. “That’s his problem.”

She chuckled a little bit.

Before Sansa could answer, however, she heard a little sound from the door, and the door opened a little bit.

“Sansa?” Myrcella asked softly.

“Yes, dear,” she told her.

The door opened more.

“You can come inside,” she mumbled.

Sansa walked into the room and closed the door behind her, turning around to find Myrcella sitting on her bed with her eyes puffy and her nose snotty.

She still remembered a time when Arya had ripped up one of her dresses because she called her horse face, and Sansa knew this was exactly what she looked like.

“Oh, sweet girl,” she sighed, walking to her and sitting on her bed.

“He thinks I’m ugly,” Myrcella whimpered, falling onto her lap in tears. “He hates me!”

Sansa petted her hair gently.

“Now, now,” she pulled her up gently, and caressed her face. “We know this isn’t true.”

She moved her thumbs on her cheek, drying her skin, but Myrcella shook her head.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t love me,” she cried, still bawling her eyes out.

Sansa tried not to look too sorry for her.

“It’s complicated,” she reminded her. “And you two are just married, Myrcella. Love takes time.”

She shook her head, braids falling all over her face.

“I tried everything,” she sniffed. “He doesn’t talk to me, he doesn’t even look at me!”

Sansa could understand that.

Myrcella was too young, and Jon had too much respect for her.

She dried her tears again.

“Jon doesn’t want you to devote your life to him,” she told her. “You’re still so young, and you should find who you are before his wife, and he is giving you the space to do it.”

Her lower lip trembled.

“But I don’t want space,” she whined.

Sansa sighed, caressing her hair.

“I know,” she told her. “And I used to think like that too, you know?”

Myrcella looked at her face, frowning.

“Come here,” she decided. “Let’s fix your hair.”

She guided Myrcella to a chair and started to undo the braids she seemed to have to try to undo, and had become a bit of a tangle in her hair.

“When I was young, all I wanted to do was leave Winterfell and come South,” she reached for a comb, starting from the bottom of one of her curls, knowing well she had to be careful. “I wanted to see the shiny knights, the streets and be in a place that was full of people, and not snow.”

She undid the knots of her hair, trying to be delicate.

“Of course, that was before his Grace was a prince, and I was still a little girl, before I even flowered,” she added. “I didn’t know how to be on my own, to enjoy what I had.”

“And what changed that?” she asked.

Sansa sighed.

“A little after his Grace left Winterfell, my mother decided to visit her family,” she moved on to another braid. “And she took me with her. Her sister was very sick, and she died when we were there.”

“I’m sorry,” Myrcella whispered.

“Thank you,” she caressed her shoulder.

Aunt Lysa wasn’t someone Sansa knew all that well. She had lost her first husband before they could have any children, and was very fragile when it came to her health. They barely saw one another, and her didn’t feel like such a big thing.

At least for Sansa, that was.

“My mother was devastated,” she told her. “Even though they hadn’t seen one another in years. Even though their relationship was sometimes complicated.”

She set the comb down, running her fingers to see if there were any more tangles to worry about.

“That was when I realised how much I had,” she told her. “My sister and my brothers were still there with me, and I was missing out on growing up with them, and being their friend. I was missing out on having fun, and discovering my home, because I was dreaming of the future and didn’t want to enjoy the present.”

Myrcella looked over at her, and Sansa caressed her cheek.

“The future is always going to come,” she reminded her. “I was always going to marry his Grace, and move to King’s Landing.”

Her narrow shoulders dropped, and Sansa moved to slowly braid her hair, the way her mother had taught her on her long, dark red locks.

“But I had such a short time to see my little brothers learn to ride a horse,” she told her. “And find what I had in common with my little sister, or let my older brother play a hero to my childish games.”

She smiled a bit to herself. Getting friendly with Arya had taken a lot of work - they were as different as water and oil. She was more wolf than a girl at times.

“So I took that time,” she told her. “And while I waited, I bonded with them. I explored the walls, and found things I liked about home.”

She blinked the tears that threatened to fall on her cheeks. She was supposed to be the strong one here.

“And here I am, to be wed, and who knows how long it will be before I see Winterfell again,” she told her. “But I have Lady, Jeyne, Ghost, Jon and all of the Princesses to be my new home away from the North. I have you…” she squeezed her shoulder gently. “And I have myself. The things that I love to do, the new interests I’ve already acquired, and the things I can learn here…”

Myrcella sighed, eyes cast down, and Sansa reached for a pin to put her hair in place before moving to a different side.

“I understand that. I miss my mother and my father…” she sighed, and Sansa could see her body tensing. “And my uncle Jaime too.”

She made a rose with her braids, the way mother had taught her.

“I never had siblings,” she told her. “I was told I had a brother before me, but he was dead at birth.”

She took her hand to her belly, and looked scared.

“I hope my first child is a boy,” she spoke, voice filled with wonder, and a touch of fear. “I want to see him be a knight like my uncle Jaime.”

“And your father?” she asked gently.

Surely she would wish her child reminded her of her father just as well?

Myrcella breathed slowly for a moment.

“He died,” she told her. “When I was small. That’s why I grew up with uncle Jaime.”

Sansa took the braids on the side of her head, framing the rose.

“The other princesses don’t like me,” she looked at Sansa through the mirror, voice small. “They don’t like being around me, and my uncle Tyrion is the only one who talks to me aside from Rosamund.”

She sighed.

Sansa wouldn’t know if that was the truth - she had just arrived yesterday, and hadn’t seen any of their interactions - but tried to be positive.

“I don’t think they dislike you,” she told her, trying the end of her hanging braids. “I just think they don’t know how to be friendly with you.”

Myrcella shot her a glance that just told her she didn’t believe her.

“Princess Margaery, Princess Asha, and Princess Arianne only have brothers,” she reminded her. “Princess Alys is an only child, and Princess Mya was raised like an only child. They don’t know how to understand a girl younger than themselves.”

Sansa had a single younger sister, and struggled plenty understanding her. That didn’t change how she loved her.

Finally, she was done with her hair, and Myrcella turned to look at her with hopeful eyes.

“Then perhaps we should start seeing each other as the sisters we never had,” she spoke, eyes shining. “That would make us all happy.”

Sansa smiled, caressing her cheek gently.

“Exactly,” she told her. “And now that we are all together, we can bond.”

Myrcella’s shoulders fell a little.

“And the King,” she spoke softly.

“Let me tell you something,” Sansa knelt in front of her, looking up at her face. “The King is terrible with his words. He doesn’t know how to give a single compliment or how to show his affections. His Grace respects you greatly, and loves you just as much as he loves his other wives, I know that, and he was very sad when he realised his words hurt you.”

Her green eyes watched her, big with a mixture of curiosity and sadness.

“He has a lot to learn,” she told her. “Just like us.”

Myrcella nodded and then hugged her tightly, and Sansa wrapped her arms around her with the same strong squeeze.

They pulled apart, however, when a little knock on the door echoed through the room.

“My lady wife?” Jon spoke, sounding hesitant. “It is me, the King.”

They both stood and she took a step back to stand behind Myrcella as Jon stepped inside.

She watched the small princess by her side adjust her posture, and turn into a colder façade.

“Yes?” she asked, as elegant as the lady she was.

Jon stepped inside and pointed at the chair where Myrcella had been sitting on, and she slowly sat, chin up and eyes on him.

He walked to her, and suddenly knelt on one of his knees in front of her.

“I came here to apologise for my rude behaviour,” he told her. “I did not mean to insult you or embarrass you, but I did it anyway.”

Sansa saw Myrcella’s face and posture breaking completely, surprised, and he took her hands in his much bigger ones on her lap.

“You are my wife," he told her. "My vows were not false, and I intend to love you from the day of our marriage to my last day. I may stumble, but you and our children will be who I will always put first, before myself, and that includes your feelings and well-being."

Myrcella smiled, all the coldness melting away.

"I pray that you find it in your heart to forgive me," he squeezed her fingers. "And I'll do my best for the situation to never repeat itself."

She took his hands to her face and kissed his knuckles.

"There's nothing to forgive," she assured him.

Jon kissed her small hands, smiling.

Sansa couldn't help the smile that grew on her lips, feeling happy for the first time at seeing him with one of his wives, with no jealousy.

The door opened slowly, and a maid walked inside.

"Your grace," she curtsied. "Shall I bring the Princess' breakfast?"

Jon stood up, and Sansa cleared her throat.

"If I may suggest," she turned to the two. "His grace and Princess Myrcella, you could maybe have the meal together, here."

Myrcella looked at Jon with hope all over her face.

"Can we?" she asked.

"Of course," he agreed. "As long as you want to, dear wife."

"I do," she said quickly. "Please."

He nodded to the maid, and Myrcella beamed.

"I can feed you like princess Arianne," she giggled.

Jon chuckled, shaking his head.

"You women spoil me," he caressed her hand. "I have eaten enough."

Myrcella looked sad for a moment, but didn't have time for the feeling to sink in.

"How about I feed you?" he offered her.

She perked up again, and Sansa hid her own smile, and curtsied quickly.

"I'll give you two privacy," she decided, stepping to leave the room.

Before she could, however, Jon held her hand and stopped her, and pressed a longingly and sweet kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he spoke, pulling away and looking at her face.

She just smiled, and kissed his hand, walking out.

Those two had a lot of catching up to do.

. . .

"The King's Wives" was posted on my Patreon back on June! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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lovebaela · 1 year

Text

Ice & Fire ༄ Pt. 3

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Bran Stark x Targaryen oc fanfic

Chapter 3 ⋇ King’s Landing ⋇

Tsireya’s POV

Where am I? As I’m looking around, I am surrounded by fire! I look up and see…a dragon! Tsireya… it said…you must be a dragon…the dragon opens its mouth, releasing fire at me. I shut my eyes and get a sudden chill. I open them, now I’m caught up in an ice blizzard. I look up again. A humongous ice creature…it looks like an ice dragon! It’s ten times bigger than the dragon I saw earlier!

When I finally opened my eyes, everything was a blur. I hear people around me gasp.

“Oh thank the gods!”

“They’re okay!”

“I thought they were gone!”

I was finally able to focus and my vision cleared. Lord Stark places his hand on my cheek, “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay.” I look over to my left and see Bran also awake as Summer licked his face. He looked like he just woke up as well. Lady Stark began to tear up, “I’m so happy you two are okay!”

“Bran?” I call out to him.

“Tsireya, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He said.

“Bran,” Lord Stark said. “What happened?”

“I…I don’t remember,” he said. “I just remember falling but I don’t know how it happened.”

“Can you move at all?” Maester Luwin asks us.

We both move our arms and legs.

“Yeah, we can move fine.”

“Thank the gods you both aren’t injured.”

I look over at Bran again, “I caught you…I knew I wasn’t strong enough but…I couldn’t risk just watching you fall.”

“Thanks Tsireya.” Bran says grinning weakly.

“Good thing she caught you and broke your fall,” Robb told Bran.

“Yeah, who knows what would have happened,” Arya said. “And don’t get me started on the assassin that tried to kill you two-.”

“ARYA!” Everyone else screamed.

“Alright, these two need rest,” Maester Luwin said. “Let’s clear the room for a bit.”

Everyone leaves the room, it’s just me and Bran. We both look at each other.

“I’m glad you were there,” he said. “You saved me from possible death.”

“I’d never let you fall without me to catch you.” I tell him.

“Neither would I.” He said. He reached his hand out from his bed and held mine.

“I…I had a strange dream,” he said. “But it felt so real…I was falling but it felt like I was falling forever. I saw a crow and it started telling me to fly!”

I continued to listen as he explained his dream to me.

After another day of resting, we continue on with the plan of going with Lord Stark to King’s Landing. Robb, Lady Stark, and Rickon were going to stay behind. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, they always said. As I was packing, Maester Luwin knocks at my door. I let him in and I notice the treasure chest in his hand. “What is that?” I ask him. “I’m not sure, but I advise you to open it when you are completely alone.” I nod taking the chest from him. I place it in my bag and continue to finish packing.

Arya and I go to visit Jon, he plans to go become a man of the Night’s Watch. We definitely didn’t want to see him go. We give him the biggest hug and he gives us gifts. He gave Arya a slim sword and me a pretty bracelet. We then go to the rest of the Starks staying behind and say our goodbyes.

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In the middle of our journey to the King’s Landing, we set camp. Once it was morning, the King, again, requests to go on a hunt with Lord Stark. As Sansa and I were eating, the Septa explained how there were still wild aurochs around. Sansa fed her direwolf, Lady, some of her breakfast. The Septa, as usual, disapproved of it and told her it wasn’t “ladylike.”

“Where is Arya?” The Septa asked. Sansa and I both responded that we didn’t know.

The Septa told us we had to look our absolute best today. Especially because we were going to ride with Queen Cersei and Princess Myrcella in the royal wheel house. Sansa of course was already dressed her best, with her hair beautifully done and a blue dress on.

I, also extremely nervous, wanted to look my best so I was also prepared. I decided to wear a long sleeved gold dress with some hints of red on my sleeves and collar. My wavy, loose curls was brushed to look more straight and was put in a half up half down hairstyle.

“We look beautiful,” Sansa said. “Joffrey is going to love my outfit. I also hope the queen likes it. Maybe Prince Tommen will want to marry you! We will both we Princesses!”

That had me thinking, am I not a princess anymore?

“I bet Arya isn’t even ready yet,” Sansa says.

“We should go get her.”

We pardon ourselves and leave to get her. Arya was with Nymeria, her pup, still dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday and the day before. She was covered in mud making herself look worse. We tried to tell her to come get ready, but she refused saying she was going to be with Mycah, the butcher’s son. Annoyed, Sansa storms off to go back to the inn and I go to find Bran.

I wonder off and find him sitting by a tree. “Hey,” I told him. He greeted me back, “You…look nice.”

“Thanks,” I slightly blush. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was thinking about climbing the tree but then I decided not too…because of- well you know..”

“Oh…yeah.”

“But I really like climbing it’s just the thought of me falling again scares me.”

“Hmm, do you want to go by the lake? I think that’s wear Arya was going!”

“Sure!”

We follow beside the river trail for a while until we found Arya with Mycah. We decided to take our shoes off and put our feet in the water. I see a pretty, small green frog. “Look, frogs!” I said happily. I roll up my sleeves and pick them up, letting them walk all over my hand.

Bran chuckled, “You really love animals don’t you?”

“Of course!” I answered. “Such beautiful creatures..”

We look back and see the other two sparring sticks as if they were swords. I lower my hand down for the frogs to jump off but the light green one decided to stay.

“Arya? Tsireya?” We all hear a voice say. “You two aren’t supposed to be here!”

Bran and I quickly get up and put our shoes back on. “Oh no, Sansa I’m sorry I forgot!” I told her.

“Go away!” Arya yelled.

“Your sister?” The boy with Sansa asked her, it was Joffrey. Sansa looked down in embarrassment and nodded.

I carry the frog with my two hands as Bran and I walk next to Arya and Mycah.

Joffrey’s eyes meet mine and I freeze. “You…must be the “winter dragon,” He said in a mocking tone. “You should go back to whatever island you came from, you don’t belong here!” No one has ever said that to me before…I didn’t know what to say.

I think what hurt the most was that Sansa just stood there beside him, letting him talk to me that way.

“Hey!” Bran says.

“Yeah, leave her alone!” Arya joined in. “We were all having fun until you guys showed up.”

Then Joffrey turned to Mycah saying, “And you…that’s my betrothed’s sister you were fighting..”

“Stop we were just playing,” Arya explained.

“Arya, stay out of this!” Sansa said.

“Well do you think you have what it takes to be a knight?” Joffrey asked the boy, drawing his sword. “Fight me with your sword.”

“She asked me to my Lord,” he said.

“It’s just a stick!” I yelled.

“Shut it!” Joffrey commanded. He had the sword against Mycah’s cheek.

The rest of us gasp. He cuts deeper and deeper into his skin. We start to see blood. I didn’t know what to do. But I was so angry. Then suddenly the frog leaped from my hand onto Joffrey’s head.

“AHHH!” Joffrey shrieked like a girl. We gasp again in shock. Arya screams as she jumps in and hits his back with the stick. We tell Mycah to leave so he goes. The frog then leaps back to me on my shoulder. We all watch as Joffrey and Arya swing at each other, telling them to stop. Arya loses her stick and begins to dodge his strikes until she falls to the ground.

“I’LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!” Joffrey threatens her with his sword pointed at her.

Nymeria swiftly comes in, biting the arm Joffrey had his sword in. Joffrey drops to the ground screaming. We got Nymeria off of him. Arya snatched the sword from him and pointed it at him.

“Please, don’t…” Joffrey pleaded, obviously trying to look like the victim.

Arya threw the sword into the river and ran off with Nymeria as Sansa tried to help the Prince.

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We look everywhere for Arya, but we just can’t find her! Lord Stark sends out a whole search party. By night, they finally found her. Turns out the King and Queen had their men look for her and took her to their tent.

Bran, Lord Stark, and I head back to the tent.

“Why wasn’t she brought to me at once?” He asked. I never seen him so angry before. “Are you hurt?” He asked Arya.

“No…” Poor Arya was shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“That girl of yours,” the Queen said. “She attacked my son. So did the other boy with her. Those other two watched and laughed.”

“No!” The three of us said.

“He said insults to Tsireya!”

“I-It’s true they attacked me and she threw my sword in the river!” Joffrey whimpered.

“Liar!”

“S-Shut up!”

“SILENCE!” The King yelled. “Children fight, it happens.” He sighed, obviously annoyed.

Sansa gets called up by the Queen and asks her what happened.

“I don’t know…” Sansa lied. “Everything happened so fast…I didn’t see-.”

“LIAR LIAR LIAR!” Arya screams, pulling at Sansa’s hair.

The Queen stills wants revenge for her son, so she wants Nymeria dead. When looking for Arya, no one found the wolf. Summer also ran off to go hunt, something that he started doing. “They have another one,” the Queen said. We all look at Sansa. Sansa looks back at us and then to her father, “she doesn’t mean Lady does she..? No, she wouldn’t BITE anyone she’s GOOD! My good girl!” She teared up.

“Lady is innocent!” Bran said.

But we didn’t have a choice. Lord Stark volunteered to do the job. We went back to our inn, trying to calm Sansa. This was the worst day ever…

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As we expected, poor Mycah was killed. I cried as Arya and Bran held me. Why did his death affect me so much? I really don’t know him…I just feel for him, he deserved to live his life! And I can’t forget about poor Lady. We finally made it to King’s Landing and rested. The next morning, we ate breakfast. Arya started playing with her food, stabbing at it with her knife.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

“Practicing..”

For what?”

“The Prince..”

The rest of us gasped.

“ARYA!” The Septa yelled.

“My friend is dead because of her! And she didn’t stick up for Tsireya!”

I stayed quiet. I was still so upset by the whole thing. I brought the frog back with us to the inn, I think it wanted to come with me. I started to pet him with my finger at the table. “Tsireya,” the Septa said. “Having creatures on the table and petting them are not ladylike!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, picking it up and place it on my lap.

After breakfast, we all go to a tourney. I couldn’t focus on it though, no matter how much I tried. Bran and I decided to hang out more. He noticed that I looked down.

“Rytsa, skoros vestas iksis daor drēje. Gaomā sytilībagon. (Hey, what he said isn’t true. You do belong).” Bran told me as we walked through the halls of the castle. I thank Bran, giving him a hug.

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One day, as Bran and I were walking, Arya ran quickly to us.

“Guys!” She yelled. We ask her what’s going on.

“I…I heard two men talking. I don’t really know what about but I heard something about ‘savages’? Something isn’t right!”

We then find out that Lord Stark is injured! “We must leave,” he told us. “This isn’t a safe place for anyone..”

“Are you dying because of your leg?” Arya asked. He replied no. “We can’t leave! My dancing lessons-.”

“No one cares about your stupid lessons,” Sansa said. “I’m supposed to stay with the Prince! I love him, I want to be his queen and have his babies!”

“7 hells…” Arya said.

“I want babies with beautiful blonde hair!!” Sansa said.

Lord Stark’s face looked different, as if he had an idea, “all of you, pack your things. One of my men have a carriage for us.”

We all go to our rooms and pack our belongings. As much as I didn’t feel very safe, I liked the weather and climate of King’s Landing. I meet up with Bran and we look for the other girls.

“Where are they?” He asks.

“I don’t know…” I respond. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

As we are wondering the halls, Lannister soldiers spot us, “Hey, you two come with us!” They yelled.

“dakogon!”

We start running as fast as we could. We tried looking for Lord Stark, but we couldn’t find him! They must have captured everyone else! We freak out and run into a random room.

The room looked like it was for a princess. We go to the back of the room.

“What do we do?” I ask Bran.

“I don’t know…” he replied.

We tried looking for a way to escape. We pushed something that looked like a secret door. It opened!

“Whoa…”

It was a tunnel passageway!

“Emi naejot jikagon!” Bran said, taking my hand. I take a deep breath, “okay…let’s do it!” We run through the passageway to the back of the castle. It led to the outside with a lot of stairs. We run all the way down and pass through flea bottom. Luckily, the guards lost us. We see a carriage with a man who was in Stark armory. We tell him that the others were taken already and we needed to go. So we left…

We moved as fast as we could to Winterfell. Once we made it, we were greeted by Ser Rodrick, “Oh gods!” He said, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around us. “Let’s get you two inside!”

Robb, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrick, Theon, and Lady Stark surrounded us asking tons of questions. Bran and I couldn’t help but just cry. Everything happened so fast.

“We tried to find them!” Bran explained. “We really did…”

Lady Stark sent everyone else out of the room. “I know sweet heart…I believe you…”

She tried to keep a brave face on, but I could tell she was terrified.

I just hope the others are okay…

Before we knew it, she left Winterfell to investigate.

#bran stark #bran stark imagine #bran stark x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon #game of thrones x oc #game of thrones headcanons #fanfic #jon snow #robb stark #sansa stark #arya stark #daenerys targaryen #targaryen imagine

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