Title: leave tomorrow, live tonight
Author: kimbo-smarties
Rating: T
Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire does not belong to me.
Genre: General, Angst, Romance
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Ship: Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers/Shiera Seastar
Summary: "You should have married me when you had the chance." He says later, when she's naked in his bed and he's honing Dark Sister, waiting for Maekar's soldiers to come for him.
Author's Note: We're told that Bloodraven was in the Black Cells in 233 AL, when Aegon V took the throne, but we don't know how or when or why he was placed there. It's always been my headcanon that Maekar imprisoned him as soon as he took the throne. Maekar and Brynden didn't like each other and they made no secrets about it. When his brother became king, Maekar was expecting to be Hand, but Aerys chose Bloodraven instead. Maekar was so enraged and slighted that he left court and King's Landing altogether, and "sulked" at Summerhall. It's hard to imagine that, when Aerys died and he became king, he would keep Brynden as his Hand. It makes sense (at least it does to me) that Maekar would be the reason Brynden ended up in the Black Cells.
So I wrote fic. From Shiera's perspective. Because she's awesome.
She stands beside him and holds his hand through the ceremony. Any other day, she'd be across the sept, winking and smiling and flirting whenever their eyes would meet. Any other day, he'd be pleasantly surprised by her nearness, the corner of his mouth hidden by his hair turned up in a contented smirk. Any other day, a romantic hope might stir in his belly, and he'd propose again as they walked out of the sept.
But there is no need for that today. Today, they both stand stone-faced with their eyes fixed forward, listening to the crowd hail the new king with a growing certainty that their time is running out.
"You should have married me when you had the chance." He says later, when she's naked in his bed and he's honing Dark Sister, waiting for Maekar's soldiers to come for him. The sounds of the feast can be heard through the open window, the drunken chorus of "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" floating along the breeze. She hopes it's not still playing when they come for him. She'd hate for her last memory of Brynden to be him being dragged away- either dead or dying or fighting- with the cries of "A bear! A bear! All black and brown and covered with hair!" slurring in the background.
"You could run." She says. We could run is what she means, and, though she doesn't say it, they both know it.
Brynden flicks his eye to her, then back to his sword. "Like our brother did? I think not."
She had expected no less, though the option needed to have been voiced all the same. "I could make up a spell. It would be such a shame for our new king to choke on his coronation cake." It's another offer she knows he'll refuse, but it makes her feel better to imagine it.
"Don't even try it." He tells her, his mouth failing to hide his amusement. He sheathes Dark Sister and rests her against the bed before climbing back in to make love to her one more time. Shiera falls asleep with her cheek pressed against his chest and her hand tangled in his pale hair.
She dreams of the days after the Redgrass Field, when Daeron could breathe again and the castle celebrated and mourned all at once. She dreams of Aegor huddled beneath a cloak on the deck of a ship crossing the narrow sea, of Daemon's tarred head on display outside the Keep. She dreams of the look in Brynden's eye- the only one left- when he sees her again, and how he'd collapsed against her when they'd gotten out of sight, exhausted with guilt and pain and relief. She'd kissed the birthmark on his cheek and prayed that he wouldn't propose.
She wakes in the morning alone in bed, and alone in his chambers. A cold fist of certainty wraps itself around her stomach, and she knows then that he's already gone.