Hi there! I decided to give this story a go a lot sooner than I initially expected, but as always, readers give me the most inspiration, and to be honest, I was desperate for some sort of feedback! You may have read my other GOT story, To love and to fight. If you didn't, please, check it out, it would mean a lot to me.
I am a big thrones fan, and I have had this story in my head for a long time, and after reading the first two books, it has only grown stronger.
I suppose I will wait for feedback before updating again, but this time, I am a few chapters in, so it mostly depends on the other stories I'm writing, and you, but you know, no pressure ;)
English isn't my first language, and I am sorry for any mistakes I make, and there will probably be quite a few of them. If something bothers you immensely, feel free to tell, so that I can fix it up in the following chapters!
I will not write a summary, since I think it's all pretty clear in this, first chapter, but if there's something missing, again, feel free to tell, and I'll explain it all. Read, favorite, follow, and please, review, it would mean a lot to me.
As always, the most important thing to mention: I own nothing related to the Game of Thrones. It all belongs to the brilliant and evil mastermind that is George R. R. Martin, and those evil geniuses that are David and Dan! I only own the OC character(s, as there might be more to come, we will see where it goes) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story! Ana.
Totally and completely inspired by the song Running up that hill from Placebo.
There is something exceptionally beautiful about the raging sea. There it is, standing there, for centuries, not moving, not going anywhere. Stationed in one place until it dries out. Yet, it still has a temper. Boy, does it have a temper.
I grew up by the sea. I love the sea. Never am I calmer than when I am looking at it. Or even more, when I am actually in it.
When I was a child, I loved stories. I would demand from everyone to tell me stories, everyone from my father to fishermen I just met at the docks. My favorites were always the ones with sea creatures. Mermaids were always my favorite. Even now, when I'm not supposed to be a dreamer or a believer, I still like to think that somewhere, out there, someone is leading a life I wish I was leading. Anywhere is better than where I am now.
It's not the place I have a problem with. I grew up here, this is my home. I will never have a problem with being in this place. It's the time I have a problem with. We're all living in a time of war. We are all at war, and I never would have imagined that it will get to that.
Even more, I never would have imagined that I would choose a side. And yet, here I am.
My father is a strict, yet caring man. At least towards me and in his own, strange way. My mother, on the other hand… I love her, I truly do. But I do not like her. I am not close to her, I never was. She and I never saw eye to eye, especially when it came to my little sister. I love her simply because she is family.
I favor my father in more ways than one. People call me serious, mature, proud and smart, and those are all qualities I had taken from him. When it comes to physical appearance, I could say that I am an even mixture of both my father and my mother. I am a Baratheon; I look like one, I act like one and I am proud to be one.
I had taken a side in this war long before it had started; it was a given. I will stand by my father, no matter what. It didn't take me long to realize that that is not just because he is my father. With all that has happened, if I were a common girl, with no association to him whatsoever, I would still see him as the King.
As much as I respect and admire him, I do not follow him blindly. He calls me a calm rebel. When I do not agree with him, I speak my mind, but I do not complain if he doesn't listen to me. He is his own man, with a mind of his own, and he already has too many people telling him what he should say and do.
The Red Woman comes to mind.
I do not trust her, or her religion. The only reason I am still here where I am now is because I firmly believe that she does not have a power over my father as much as she thinks she does. Even more so, she does not have power over me. She is fascinating and mesmerizing, I'll give her that; but that is where her power ends. She might think she has power over my father and she might even be right. But one day, hopefully not soon, my father's time will come, and he will pass. All he ever earned, all he had fought for, all he inherited, everything, will be mine.
As his eldest daughter, as his eldest child, all eyes will be on me. Yet that is not the only reason I pray that that day does not come soon.
Truth be told, I would be lost. Hell, I'll probably be lost. As someone who looks up to him and respects him, I don't know what I will do when the time comes. Sailors need stars; it is only natural that they use them to ease navigation. We are all sailors, and we all have our stars. We do not always admit it, but we do. My father is my star. Once he burns out… well, it will be a very dark night.
I was still standing by the window; cold had started to affect me now. I've always had a thick skin, and even if I wasn't entirely comfortable, I was never the one to complain. Something as trivial as cold I mostly ignore entirely. This time, however, the cold was more persistent than I was, and I grabbed a cloak to cover myself. As soon as I did, I returned to my usual post, staring at the sea once more.
I wonder if it will ever calm down. Not the sea. Sea has a temper, but when it is calm, it is almost magical. What I do not know is whether or not Westeros will ever be at peace.
On the other hand, was it ever?
There was always something. Targaryens, Baratheons, Lannisters, there was always more than enough of drama. Usurpers, kidnapers, liars and lovers. And now we have four Kings. If one of them makes it out of it alive, we should rejoice, whichever one it is.
Joffrey, a Lannister bastart. Robb Stark, a grieving son with a powerful army. Renly, my uncle, has no claim, yet, he has an army. And my father, an honorable and strict man, with no love from the people.
He never wanted any friends, and ever since I was old enough to realize what a mistake that was, I kept trying to convince him to change his ways. It matters not whether he enjoys it. Renly did the exact opposite, and look at him now; he has an army. Last we heard of, it's twice as bigger than ours.
A King needs to be loved, but more than that, he needs to be capable. I, for one, think that the capability is more important than charm. Charm can be easily gained, as well as lost, and capability shouldn't be something you learn as you go.
Of course, my opinion has little to do with the rest of the realm. And whether I care to admit it or not, I am biased.
Joffrey and Robb Stark are irrelevant to me at this point. Father will not march on King's Landing in these next few days, so Joffrey and his delightful mother are not an immediate threat. The true Lannister mastermind, the one that holds all of the strings is too busy taking care of the North, which has rebelled as loud as never before.
Renly, my uncle, was the closest threat. And the one that bothered me the most.
Renly and I grew up together. There is no more than six years between the two of us. We were raised at Storm's End and King's Landing, up until the siege of Dragonstone. Then, our ways have parted for a little while. Once we were reunited, we did not part again until Renly got our family's seat in Storm's End. It was supposed to be my father's, but Robert, my other uncle, had a plan of his own.
That is when Renly and I stopped being close.
For years, we were like brother and sister. We were close, we were friends, we played together and we tested my father's patience with wicked grins on our faces. I followed him blindly. Then, when he was just seventeen, things have changed, and I was only slightly aware of it.
By the end, I did not see him at all. Last time I laid eyes on him, Eddard Stark still had a head on his shoulders, Jon Arryn was the Hand of the King, and Robert was the damned King.
It goes without saying that Renly was always my favorite uncle; even now, when he is officially an enemy.
Father loved him, and I doubt he felt anything more than respect and childish admirations for Robert. He and Jon Arryn were the ones who kept Robert's kingdom intact. Robert did not win it himself, and he did not keep it himself. I know all of these stories by heart. As proud as he is, father still has his moments of self-doubt, and he tends to remember the times when he was nothing more than a little brother, whose idol was unreachable. That boy grew up to be a man whose idol had betrayed him, robbed him of his rights, even of his reputation.
I never loved Robert, and the reasons are simple. When I was a child, he frightened me, and when I got older, he repulsed me.
Father did not grieve when he died, and neither did I. Robert Baratheon showed exactly what kind of king he was when a boar skewered him because he was too drunk to notice it until it was late. The mighty have fallen, that was for certain.
By nightfall, all seven hells have broken loose. Whether we liked it or not, Joffrey was the heir, and we had to accept it. That was until we found out that Joffrey is not only not a true heir, but not even a Baratheon.
Now, when I look back, it makes sense, but I never would have imagined that he was born of incest, right under my uncle's nose, without him questioning it. And as the rest of his children are Lannister bastards, it is my father's right to sit on the Iron Throne. That is when the true problems begun.
Now, we are here. Waiting, preparing, hoping. As always, we were hoping for the best and we are prepared for the worst.
For the first time in my entire existence, father and I are not agreeing.
He is well aware of the fact that we lack in strength; we do not have a big fleet, and we do not have enough men. Even with all of the sellswords he managed to pay off, we are not strong enough. That is why I believe that it would be best to side with someone.
He does not want to join forces with Renly, and I cannot say that I blame him. He proclaimed himself King, and by doing so, he spat in his brother's face, and in our family heritage. I might still love him and he might be my favorite uncle, but what he did is not right. That leaves us with the Starks.
Robb Stark is avenging his father and trying to rescue his sisters, who are, as far as we know, still in King's Landing, held hostage by the Queen. While their march was nothing more than an attempt to rescue Eddard Stark, it ended up being something quite different. North has declared itself an independent kingdom, with the House of Stark and by that, Robb Stark as their leader, their King.
I do not know war as well as my father does, but I do believe that neither he nor Robb Stark could ever win this without joining forces. Unlike us, Robb Stark does have more options. He has Renly.
I was suggesting, asking, even begging my father to approach the man, to join forces with him and defeat the Lannisters. But he saw him as a thief who would take away a big part of the Kingdom.
I cannot imagine how many times I have told him that it's better to have half of a Kingdom than no Kingdom at all, but he does not listen. With his stubbornness and that awful woman whispering in his ear, it's no wonder we do not see eye to eye.
I will not give up hope, not until I hear that the Stark's and both their bannermen and the bannermen of the House of Tully have joined forces with Renly. Perhaps, if I am persistant as he can be, father might see that I have a proper view on this situation.
As I looked outside, I could see movement on the beach; men were preparing for the ritual that the Red Woman will hold tonight. I will be attending only because of my father. She can burn the statues and curse the Gods, but I know what I believe and where my loyalties lie.
The comet was still burning bright red in the sky. I do not know much about comets, even less about ancient superstitions, but I did not need that knowledge to know that this comet I am looking at is a bad sign, a bad prediction. The color of it was more than enough; it is red, frightening blood red.
Death is a part of life, and it will catch us sooner or later. It's what you do before death comes. That is what counts. I plan on doing as much as I can. Support those I believe in, fight for what I want and protect what is already mine. And when I die, I will welcome death with open arms. I had my chance.
…
I was supposed to be preparing for the main festivities. I chose not to, deliberately. Tonight is the same night as any. Whatever my father does, I will be the same in the morning; therefore, I have no reason to celebrate.
I did bother showing up. Reluctantly, but I am at least going. I met with Father on the beach; I took his right side while Mother took the left.
The Red Woman was speaking. I have to admit, she is more terrifying in the fire light. She was yelling to Lord of the Light, cursing the seven Gods I still believe in. If what I do could be called believing.
I grew up with it. However, I was never a morally challenged and deeply spiritual person. But the Gods were there and I acknowledged them. In my mind, that was a better solution than joining Malisandre's spiritual cult. Few shared my opinion; even fewer those who are close to Father. Mother was bought by her from the start. Maester Cressen was speaking but my father decided not to hear. Davos, on the other hand, might not agree with the views of this new religion, but he would never defy my Father. Whatever Stannis Baratheon says, Davos Seaworth will do.
I cannot say if it is friendship or admiration. It certainly goes both ways, but in my opinion, Davos is still very much underappreciated. Out of all of my Father's men, I could only guarantee that Davos would never betray him. Quite appropriately, I would put my hand in fire.
The Seven were burning and people were chanting. A charging figure caught my eye, far away on the other side of one of the burning statues. It was Maester Cressen. He was late, but I am surprised he showed up at all. This is against his faith, and Melisandre has done nothing but mock him since she first showed up.
But it wasn't Maester Cressen that kept my attention away from the main event. It was Matthos.
A long time ago, when I was nothing more than a little girl, I have met Matthos Seaworth. I grew up next to him; we grew up together. Davos was no longer a smuggler, but a knight, and that made his son appropriate company for me, the little lady.
Oh, I was no lady. I was one of the boys. Of course, with my strict father, there was no chance of me not following the appropriate manners and courtesy, though I must admit, that never troubled me. I followed the rules, smiled and nodded and used the appropriate fork, but once I was free, I was free.
And Matthos was my partner in crime. My best friend as I was growing up. Of course, as it often does, my heart played tricks on me. Matthos left, Matthos returned, and we were no longer children, but almost grown adults. I cannot say if it was love, but I was never closer to it.
Yet, I did not follow through. Neither did Matthos. I am certain that my affections are returned; I was sure of it when Davos gave me a friendly warning and reminded that Matthos is probably not the best match for me. That gave it all away. Not only was I not the only one that felt something, but I was not the only one who did not forget of our customs and duties.
Matthos and I never stood a chance. We left it at that, remaining friends and nothing more, keeping our mouths shut and ignoring our hearts. It did not leave me, at least not yet, and that is exactly why he kept my attention now.
He was chanting after her, mesmerized, never allowing his eyes to move away from her. He was sold, bought, whatever it was. She has him in her long claws, just like she has my father. My father I understand. He needs hope, and she provides it, for the time being. But Matthos? Matthos is a young man, with his ideals unharmed and an open mind. While that provides an excuse for him, his curiosity leading him into this eastern religion, it still escapes me how did it come to this. He was always logical; with him it was always black or white. Out of the two of us, I was the one who wanted to, and often did see the color grey.
Now, the tables have turned. Oh, how they turned.
I am the one who is firmly holding onto my common sense, and he is gone. I can see it in his eyes. We do not need to make eye contact at all; that is what gives it away. Him not looking away from her for one second was proof enough.
I do not know how I will repair this damage, especially not while she is still her. But I will be damned if that Red Devil of a woman is what cost us a Kingdom and a family.
How I will do it, I do not know. I only have my resolve, and I can prey to the Gods that that will be enough. The problem is, which god do I pray to now?
As my father pulled out a flaming sword out of one of the statues, I knew it was almost too late already. Everyone kneeled. The last ones standing were him and Melisandre, as well as Davos, Maester Cressen, and myself.
Davos looked troubled, but he did kneel. And I knew I have to do it to.
Not looking away from Maester Cressen, I kneeled. He met my eyes, and he could understand what I was saying. He barely managed to get down, but he did kneel. Everyone else got up and started leaving the beach. Only Davos, Maester and I remained.
"This woman will lead him into a war he cannot win. Not without allies." Maester Cressen told us.
"Maester Cressen, we know that. But he does not listen." I said.
"Stannis is our King." Davos said. Ever so loyal, Davos Seaworth."We follow where he leads. Even if we don't like the path." He said. I couldn't have said better myself.
"He is surrounded by fools and fanatics. If you tell him the truth… he trusts you." Maester said, and I was not certain whether he was talking to Davos, myself, or to the both of us.
"What is the truth?" Davos asked. Now, that is quite a question.
I cannot say that I blame my father for buying into the story Melisandre sold him. He is weak, and he does not want to ask for help. He doesn't want to make peace and he doesn't want to be left with half a Kingdom. I understand those reasons, but unlike him, I see possible benefits.
I have decided to keep convincing him to join forces with someone, possibly the Starks, and I will keep on doing that. He will either break, or he won't, but my duties will be fulfilled.