Chapter One: Word of Winterfell
A/N: Hey everyone! This is the first joint story we've undertaken so hopefully you enjoy it. We only own Annabella Baratheon and Eliana Martell.
{Annabella Baratheon}
Words could be expressed in hate or with love. When the words came from her father they were usually spoken in hate. She was constantly blamed for her father's first wife's death as she came into the world. Although her father had remarried he still placed the blame on her for the fact that he had no son.
Annabella Baratheon sat in the large library in King's Landing with a book in her lap and her blues eyes staring out the window. The warm afternoon breeze made it easy for Jaime Lannister to sneak up on her.
"A raven arrived today from Lord Stannis Baratheon. It was in concern of his daughter."
"And what pray tell did my father wish to know?" Annabella asked as she watched as he sat across from her. "Or is it one of the letters demanding to know when I plan to return?"
"It was addressed to King Robert and he demanded to know why the Septa he paid good money to teach you has quit."
"I am sixteen," Annabella said. "I do not need a Septa nor do I want one. If my father keeps paying for them then that is his own foolishness."
"You certainly are the stubborn one."
"Have you met my uncles? Compared to them I am anything, but stubborn."
"Some think you are no Baratheon either."
"And what do the people of the court believe me to be? Am I Lannister?"
"You might act like a lion, but you are no Lannister."
"There is no need to tell me," Annabella said as she looked at him before her gaze went back to the window. "Court gossips are nothing more than-"
"The King's hand is ill," Jaime said interrupting her. "If you wish to visit him and his family then you might wish to do so soon."
Quickly rising to her feet, Annabella looked at Jaime in confusion. "I just saw him last week. What has happened to him?"
"Old age?" Jaime suggested.
"He was in fine health when I last saw him."
"Then I would suggest that you see to him before it is too late."
Without uttering another word, Annabella moved past Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer before leaving the library and heading to where the Hand of the King was housed.
It hadn't even been a week since Annabella had gone to see the hand of the king while he was sick and now she watched as his body was being prepared for the funeral. Her heart went out to Jon Arryn's family, but his death was a surprise. He was old, yes, but he seemed to be in great health. His wife had never said anything to her about it being otherwise. From across the way, she could see her Uncle Robert's wife with her brother. They seemed as if they were discussing something important, so she turned her head back to Jon Arryn's body.
After leaving, Annabella saw where her guards awaited her with her black stallion. Her horse was a gift from her Renly, her other uncle. Many times she often wondered if her uncles were so kind to her because her father still blamed her for her mother's death. It didn't matter that he had remarried because he still had no sons. Many times his wife had become pregnant but his sons were stillborn.
"Where to Milady?"
"Is my Uncle Renly in a small council meeting?" Annabella asked. "I do not know if there was one or not."
"No, Lady Annabella," he told her as she mounted her horse. "Unless the King has called a meeting."
"I understand," she said as she smoothed out her dress while sitting in the saddle. "I intend to find him then. I must speak with him."
Heading back to the castle with her four personal guards protecting her, Annabella could only think about seeing her uncle, even if it were for a short period of time. These days her uncle seemed to be busier and busier. It didn't take them long before they were back and she left two of her guards to hand off her horse to the stable boy who was on duty. As she headed in the direction of her uncle's room, two of her guards were side by side with her. It didn't take long for her to reach his chambers and she did not hesitate to knock on the door once she was outside of the doors. After a moment, there was a voice that called for whoever was knocking to enter.
Allowing her guards to open the doors and enter before her, she followed them inside. When she noticed that it was just her uncle, she nodded her head in a silent request that they wait outside for her.
"Annabella, my sweet sweet niece," Renly Baratheon smiled as he walked over to her and embraced her. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"Uncle, I wished to speak to you on a private matter," Annabella said as she sat in a chair. When she looked back to her uncle, he was sitting on a chest at the end of his bed. "I do not wish to marry a Lannister."
"And you never will."
"Joffrey said last night that Uncle Robert was talking with Tyrell about a marriage between me and a Lannister of Robert's choice."
"Then that should settle you just fine," Renly told her with a smile on his face. "Robert will never allow you to marry a Lannister. Just look how unhappy they make his life. Lannisters drove him to drink, whore, and father many bastard children."
"My father wrote to the King, did he not?"
"That he did," Renly said as he stood up and walked over to his niece. "He was not happy that yet another Septa has returned. How long did this one last?"
"Longer than the one before her. A fortnight."
Offering his hand to his niece, they made their way towards the balcony. The sun was falling, but there were still hours left until night would fall upon them.
"You wish for him to love you," Renly said without looking at her. "But he never shall."
"I'm a bastard in his eyes."
"You are no bastard," her uncle said. "Your parents married two years before you were conceived. Every day we do miss her, but you are a true Baratheon. Never doubt that."
"I fear every day that is keeping me from having the family I want."
"The family you want?"
"A husband and children," Annabella clarified. "I love my cousins dearly, well two out of three, but I still want to know if this is the life I shall have because my own father refuses to have me in Dragonstone."
"Do you wish to live in Dragonstone?" Renly questioned her. "It is nothing like the beauty that surrounds us here."
"We are also surrounded by lions. Stags do not trust lions."
Shaking his head, Renly couldn't help but laugh. "If anyone thought to question you, there would be no doubt about your family loyalty."
"Uncle Renly," Annabella said as she looked at him. "Do you think I'll have a family one day?"
"Your father might have left you here, but that does not mean you are alone. Robert and I have agreed when we find someone suitable for you, you shall marry him."
"Someone you both agree upon?" Annabella asked. "I could be waiting quite a while then."
"Only the best for one of our own."
Turning to her uncle, she gave him a smile before wrapping her arms around him. "I love you Uncle Renly."
"You might not when I tell you something."
"What's that?"
"Robert knows who he wants to name as the next Hand of the King."
"Already?"
"It will be a month long journey and you will be going with. The whole royal family is going to make the journey."
"Including you?" Annabella asked.
"I have not decided just yet."
"Do not make me suffer alone going to some place that I will not know anyone."
"You will have the royal family."
"Uncle Renly!"
"Pack warmly," Renly smiled at her. "We travel to Winterfell."
"He means to ask Ned Stark to be the next Hand of the King."
"He does."
Annabella knew who Eddard Stark was. With her Uncle Robert constantly singing his praises and talking about the love he bore to Eddard's sister, it would be difficult not to know who the man was or how important he was to the King. If he meant to ask Lord Stark to be his hand, that meant they would be going North. It would be a month long journey to Winterfell and then however long her uncle decided to stay for and then another month to journey back. It would be a long journey no matter how she looked at it.
{Eliana Martell}
"Go on, Eliana, ask Perros to dance!"
Arianne Martell was laughing and teasing, as always. The next in line for the Dornish throne was known for her infectious smile and flirtatious personality. She was the sun and the entire court at Sunspear craved her warmth and light. Even at her sister Eliana's sixteenth name-day celebrations, it was Arianne who attracted all of the attention. For if Arianne was the sun, what was Eliana but the moon, pale in comparison?
She shook her head and sloshed her wine in her goblet, although she did not have a taste for it. The imported wines from the Riverlands were too thick for Eliana's taste, too bitter on the tongue. Dornish wines were far nicer, but Arianne had insisted upon something different for her little sister's name-day. But of course.
"Leave her be, Arianne." Quentyn, Eliana's brother and her elder by some mere eighteen months, shook his head disapprovingly. He was the serious one, the one who had inherited their father's business-like demeanour. Out of the four Martell siblings, he was the one who disliked the celebrations, who would excuse himself early to bed.
"Come now, Quentyn." Arianne leaned across the table. "Do you deny that our sweet sister should not enjoy the festivities? They are for her, after all."
Eliana examined her sister. They had the same features, the same dark hair – although Eliana's was straight while Arianne's curled in ringlets. The same curvaceous figure, the same dark eyes and olive complexion. Yet Arianne was fuller of life. Eliana had been named for her aunt and Doran's only sister, Elia Martell, who had been married to the great Rhaegar Targaryen. They were said to share the same sharp wit, although Eliana had been born after her aunt had died, so she could not be sure.
Arianne's eyes were fixated on Perros Blackmont. He was younger than her and yet older than Quentyn, but she seemed intent on having him catch Eliana's attention. Needless to say, Eliana was aware that her older sister was no virgin – Arianne had been younger than Eliana was now when she had lost her virginity to Daemon Sand. Yet Eliana had always viewed her maidenhood as something precious and losing it to mean something special, a notion at which Arianne had always scoffed.
"Eliana!" Young Trystane weaved his way through the congregation towards his sister. He was three years Eliana's junior at thirteen years old, and the youngest of Doran Martell's children. "Father wishes to speak with you immediately."
"What?" Eliana couldn't say she wasn't surprised. Of course Doran would not attend the celebration for himself – his gout had been troubling him of late, and Eliana could not fault him for that. Yet requesting to speak with her in the middle of her sixteenth name-day celebration was something that Eliana could not see as typical Doran behaviour. "Of – of course. I'll be there right away."
Eliana pushed herself to her feet and swept from the banquet hall. As she moved down the corridor, the happy sounds of laughter and music died away, replaced by an eerie quiet she did not like. When the guards saw her, they immediately stepped aside to allow her inside her father's rooms.
Doran was sitting at his desk, and he looked up when Eliana approached. He would not admit it, but she had always been the favourite of his children. Perhaps it was because of her striking resemblance to his sister Elia, for whom she had been named. She was not as serious as Quentyn, nor as vivacious as Arianne. Perhaps it was because Eliana was a happy medium that he loved her best.
"Eliana. I'm sorry to interrupt your name-day celebrations, but I must speak with you urgently. Please, sit."
Slightly troubled, Eliana gathered her skirts and took her seat across from her father. What was so important that it couldn't even wait until the morrow? She looked down to see a letter on his desk. By its furled state, it had only arrived by raven in recent hours.
"I have here a message from his Grace, Robert Baratheon. He has written to me and inquired as to whether you will travel to King's Landing in order to become his ward, and a lady-in-waiting to his niece, Annabella Baratheon, Stannis's daughter."
"Me?" Eliana was surprised. How would she fare in the court at King's Landing? Arianne would be the social butterfly and Quentyn an excellent squire, but it was her to have been specifically requested? She was rather startled. "When would I leave? Did you agree to it, Father?"
"I did." Doran sighed heavily. It was not easy, and he didn't trust the Baratheons much more than the Lannisters, but if he agreed to let Eliana travel north to become Robert's ward, it would certainly distract from his plans for Arianne. "Eliana, you are a woman grown now, sixteen years old. You are of a marriageable age, and the time will soon come when suitors request your hand in marriage. You may even marry before your brother or sister if you travel to King's Landing."
Eliana bit her lip. She had often dreamed of marriage, but her parents' marriage had been a failure. Marrying for love seemed like a dream come true, yet Doran had done just that, and Eliana had not seen her mother in years. She was not sure that she wanted to marry if such heartbreak was the only outcome.
"When am I to leave, Father?"
"Within the week." Doran rolled the letter up and tied a red ribbon around it. "You will of course have an entourage to accompany you. Yet the King intends to travel north in order to request Eddard Stark become the new Hand after Jon Arryn's death. He would like you with them for this journey, and I believe it to be wise. You have not strayed from Dorne in your young years, and seeing Westeros is certainly a valuable opportunity."
The Red Keep loomed overhead and Eliana and her entourage entered King's Landing. She peered out through the window in her carriage, which she had been confined to for the majority of the journey. Eliana's nerves were a jumbled mess of anticipation as she realised her presence would trigger an assembly of the King's court. As the carriage drew to a halt, Eliana took a deep breath and gathered her skirts, stepping out and into an empty courtyard. A man with pepper-and-salt hair and a goatee approached her and bowed deeply.
"Lady Eliana." The man offered her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "My name is Petyr Baelish. I have been sent to escort you to the throne room to meet with the royal family."
Eliana nodded slowly, casting a glance over her shoulder. Her father had sent her to King's Landing with three ladies, a dozen servants and a dozen guards. It seemed a little excessive considering it was only her, but she was grateful for the Dornish company nonetheless. She followed Petyr through a series of winding corridors, and caught her breath when she stepped into the throne room.
It was absolutely huge, and indeed the entire royal family seemed to be waiting for her there. Eliana felt her knees turn to jelly, yet she retained her composure. Taking several careful steps forward, she examined them closely. Robert Baratheon was a large, red-faced man with a coarse beard. Cersei had aged like fine wine, but her eyes were cold as she inspected Eliana. Their children were obviously the blonde-haired boys and girl by her side – Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen. Eliana did not recognise the dark-haired girl, who appeared to be of an age with her, but surmised that she must be Annabella Baratheon.
"Eliana." Robert stepped forward with a benevolent smile. "You are very welcome here at King's Landing. I'm sure your father would have told you about the journey to Winterfell?"
"Robert, my sweet," Cersei chimed in, turning to glance at her husband. "Eliana has only just arrived here. She should rest. Surely a journey that will commence within the next few days…"
"Quiet, woman," Robert rumbled, causing his wife to lapse into a sullen silence. "You are my ward, Lady Eliana. You will serve as lady-in-waiting to my niece, Annabella."
Robert gestured towards the dark-haired girl, who Eliana examined critically. She supposed it was better than having to serve as one of Cersei's ladies. Her own grandmother had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Rhaella. Yes, she was tired from the journey to King's Landing, but she was also young and excited. She had never been to regions so far north and so cold as Winterfell, and she thought the journey would agree with her more than Cersei believed.