Hello all and welcome to my story! A few quick notes: I have taken a few liberties with some character ages, and will likely take a few liberties with the plot. This will mostly follow the TV show, though a few book elements will be added, and the ending/some plot points will probably be very different. All chapters will be around 2000-2500 words. I hope you enjoy! Also, please note that I tend to go back and edit my chapters – no major plot points will be changed, but I do fix grammar and small details!


Lady Alia Bracken sat quietly in her tent as a maid gently brushed through her golden hair. She wasn't a maid from Stone Hedge – she was a borrowed maid named Neina who had the tan skin and dark hair of Dorne – a nice enough girl, but hardly in the confidence of the lady. Most of Stone Hedge had died or fled when Gregor Clegane and his men came through. Alia refused to call him Ser Gregor, at least in her own mind, for his cruelty towards her people had shown him to be no true knight. He had burned the fields, from the castle to the Red Fork, and killed her father, Lord Jonos Bracken, in a horrific manner. He had destroyed everything she had ever once held dear, all in a few moments. Her mother had long been dead, for which Alia was thankful, as she would not have wanted her to witness the brutal nature of her father's demise. Alia was not sure if her older sister, Bess, was dead or if she had managed to escape, but she had not seen her since being imprisoned, and she was not given much information from the soldiers. As far as she knew, she was the last Bracken alive.

It had been a relief when Gregor Clegane had gone on to Harrenhal, though she was left in the care of some Lannister soldiers, unsure of what to do with her, until Lord Tywin Lannister had come marching through with his army. Alia never thought she'd be so grateful to see Lord Tywin, but she had begun to feel uneasy with the looks some that the Lannister soldiers had given her. Deep, searching, lustful looks of men who had been gone too long from their wives or lovers. As a girl of eight and ten, she was not naïve to what men wanted. She ought to have been married by now, but her lord father had been denying many a suitor for her and her sister in the past years. He thought they both deserved marriages into one of the Great houses, though Alia suspected her sister would have been married off within the year as she was nearly twenty.

Lord Tywin, though unkind and harsh, had made sure Alia was treated with respect and comfort as they left Stone Hedge and marched up to the Trident to await Robb Stark's army. She was placed in a tent near his own, so that he might keep an eye on her, and he had given her a horse to ride. Lord Tywin's army had destroyed the Stark army, but it had been a ruse, much to Alia's delight. Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, was now held by the Stark army, which had split in two to distract Lord Tywin. The young wolf king had proven to be clever, more so than Tywin had suspected. Alia had been confined to her tent with guards during the battle and the two days since, only gaining knowledge from the voices she could hear outside her tent. It had been maddening. She yearned for the open air. She yearned for Stone Hedge.

"Lady Alia, Lord Tywin has requested your presence." One of the guards poked his head in through the entrance, clearing his throat. He was a young soldier – his ruffled brown hair and green eyes showing a face no more than twenty – and had been kind to Alia. She nodded at him so he knew she had understood, before turning to Neina who was still brushing out her hair.

"Please get me one of my nicer dresses, perhaps the red one." Neina fluttered around the tent, fetching the dress and helping Alia into it. The dress was made of a silky material, cut to show her figure to its best, but with a modest neckline so as not to appear too scandalous. It would not do to dress impurely walking through a camp full of soldiers, though she did think the men ought to just learn how to keep their hands to themselves. Alia hoped that the red would appease Lord Tywin – perhaps he would understand that she did not intend to put up a fight. There was no time to make her hair elaborate, so Neina added two braids on either side and pinned them back, leaving the rest of her hair loose. She stepped outside to meet the young guard, who escorted her to Lord Tywin's tent. As it was only a few paces away from her own tent, the escort seemed foolish, but still, propriety was important, even during war. There were many voices coming from the inside, which stopped suddenly as the guard announced Alia's arrival.

She entered and was surprised to see many of the Lannister generals surrounding the table. Lord Tywin Lannister sat at the center, an untouched glass of wine in front of him. His brother, Lord Kevan, sat across from him, and the dwarf, Lord Tyrion Lannister, sat at the edge of the table. His cup of wine, unlike his father's, was nearly empty.

"Get out, all of you." Tywin gestured with his hands, his voice clearly agitated, and most of the table hurried out of the room, nodding to Alia respectfully. Her heart stopped at the thought of being alone with Tywin Lannister.

"Not you." He growled as Tyrion stood to leave, and she felt momentarily relieved. Tyrion looked confused and slightly fearful, but he sat back down near his father, his hands reaching for the wine pitcher. It was then that Alia noticed the man behind Tyrion. He stood nearly in the shadows, but his eyes carefully darted between the two lords. He had dark hair and dark scruff on his face, looking a bit unkempt, but his eyes were light blue and striking. There was a certain mischief in his face, but there was also a hardness, something that spoke of pain. Alia was surprised to find him handsome, as his rugged looks created a dangerous air about him. He wasn't wearing Lannister armor; he was dressed in a leather breastplate with a grey tunic and tan breeches. A sword was attached to his hip, but she swore she could see a dagger just peeking out from his back as well. She wondered who he was – he didn't seem to be a Lannister soldier, so perhaps he was one of Lord Tywin's bannermen. He caught Alia studying him, and her face flushed as he smirked whilst looking over her slowly. She glanced away, her eyes looking around the room, though she could still feel his eyes on her.

"Lady Alia." She faced Lord Tywin as he called to her, bowing her head slightly. Tywin was still an imposing figure despite his age and he moved with the strength and grace of a man twenty years younger. Dressed handsomely in Lannister red and gold, he looked every bit like the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin looked her over once, his eyes cold and calculating, before turning to Tyrion.

"In addition to serving in my stead as Hand, you will escort Lady Alia to King's Landing." Tywin turned back to Alia, and she tried not to let the shock show on her face as he spoke to her.

"Lady Alia, you will go to King's Landing and remain in court. A suitable husband will be found for you with the help of Lord Tyrion, and if you and your lord husband swear fealty to King Joffrey, Stone Hedge will be returned to you. If you refuse these terms…" He didn't have to spell it out, as to refuse would be death. She clasped her hands together and hoped the men couldn't see them trembling.

"My lord, I thank you for your mercy and your support in making me a suitable match. I do so pledge my loyalty to the true and rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, King Joffrey." She replied, hoping that her voice sounded sincere and unwavering, hoping that she had spoken the correct words. Tywin stared at her for a moment. She couldn't tell if he was unimpressed or simply bored.

"Good. You shall leave with Lord Tyrion and his party on the morrow." With that, she was dismissed back to her tent. Neina hovered around Alia when she returned, unpinning her hair and helping her dress for bed.

"Neina, please pack up my things. I don't want to keep Lord Tyrion waiting in the morning." Alia told the maid, who bowed before hustling about the room. She focused on the sounds of the Neina's footsteps, trying not to think about what was to come in the morning.


The horse the lion lord had lent Bronn for the journey to King's Landing was a fine beast, a steel grey warhorse, and surprisingly well-mannered for a stallion. He stood still as Bronn fixed a few more bags onto his saddle, muttering about the excess of supplies they were taking for the journey. Mainly it was wine for the imp. The little lord was scurrying around, trying to get the hill tribes in line before they began their journey.

"Shagga, please remember that where we are going, you can't just kill without reason." His exasperated voice carried through the crowd. Bronn snorted, tightening the saddle on his horse and patting his grey neck. He knew Tyrion was fighting a losing battle, and was thankful only a few of the hill tribesmen were joining them on the road. He didn't want to have to dirty his dagger with their blood. The sound of women's voices, a rare sound for a camp, made him turn around.

Gods, he had seen many beautiful women in his five and thirty years – some noble, some common, some whores – but never any as beautiful as Alia. Lady Alia, as she should have been properly called, but he had never thought much of being polite. It didn't surprise Bronn that the lion lord had kept her hidden away; half the camp probably wanted to fuck her. He knew he did. Just last night, he was imagining all the things he would do to her, were he so fortunate.

She had two maids with her, but Bronn barely spared them a glance, instead choosing to study the girl. Her long, golden hair waved down her back and against her pretty face. He noted the soft blue dress she had on, which emphasized her lithe frame and matched her lovely eyes. Bronn could just see the tops of her breasts, small but round. He wondered what it would be like to touch her, though he knew a noble girl like that would not debase herself with a sellsword like him, especially one so much older. Still, he would take pleasure in looking at her and imagining, perhaps teasing her to enjoy her reactions.

Alia studied the party that was to head to King's Landing, eyeing the fierce-looking hill tribes, Lord Tyrion, and the man who seemed to be Lord Tyrion's shadow. For once, she was less afraid of a Lannister than anyone else nearby. Tyrion stopped in front of her, a gentle smile appearing on his face. She did not find him monstrous, as so many proclaimed him to be. Yes, he was a dwarf, but he had a kind face and shrewd eyes.

"Lady Alia, I apologize that we do not have a wheelhouse for you to travel in. The journey is long, about a week, but we will stop at inns along the way when we can." She smiled softly at him.

"It is no trouble my lord, I quite enjoy riding. I thank you for escorting me to the capital." Alia was presented with a plain bay mare; she wished she could have her fiery red stallion back, as it reminded her of her family's sigil, but the horse had been taken by Gregor Clegane to Harrenhal. Still, she stroked the mare's face, thankful to be leaving, but also wishing she had something other than her dresses to wear. Her legs would be sore before long. Suddenly, Tyrion's shadow man was behind her, startling her with his presence.

"I'll help you get up, m'lady." He proclaimed, moving to the side to assist her in getting on her horse. She noticed that he didn't ask if she needed help and assumed she would allow him to aid her. Alia felt nervous as he place his hands on her waist – she had not been in the presence of many men, certainly not men she found attractive. Her stomach felt as though it had dropped to her knees, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling.

Bronn tried not to let his hands linger for too long as he helped her climb into the saddle. He'd walked over to her without thinking, just moving on sheer intuition, which was the same way he went through most of his life. It had led him to follow the imp, and he hoped that would soon pay off. Her face was slightly flushed as his hands left her waist, and Bronn grinned to himself, wondering if the redness on her cheeks was from the exertion of getting on the horse or from something else.

"Thank you, Ser…?" Her voice drifted down to him as she straightened her dress and gathered the reins. He gazed up at her, though he was tall enough to still come up to her waist, and admired her curves from his new view. He was flattered that she thought him to be a knight. Once she knew what he really was, he doubted she would come near him again.

"Not a Ser or a lord, m'lady, just Bronn if it's the same to you." Alia nodded, thinking that his courtesies seemed a bit forced, as if he wasn't used to speaking to noble women. His voice was rough and accented, but she found something about it appealing. Not that it mattered – she would likely be married off to a lord or knight, of which he claimed to be neither.

"Thank you, Bronn." She clarified, glancing down at him once more before urging her bay mare forward. Bronn watched her go as several dirty thoughts crossed through his mind and a deep ache filled his groin.

"Seven hells." He muttered, wondering why he found this woman so enchanting. At least it would be an interesting journey.

Thank you for reading, and please review, I love reading them!