DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original ASOIAF characters. They belong to GRRM. I do own the OCs, however.
Five 100-word drabbles centered on Shiera Seastar and Brynden Bloodraven's relationship.
Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.
Enjoy!
P.S. This fic has already appeared on the Valyrian Forged subcommunity of Westeros Sorting LJ community. Yep, sereq ieh dashret is me.
"Who is that?" she asked her aunt. She slapped her pointing hand. "Do not point, Shiera. And do not stare. - she said primly - Just ignore that freak." Shiera acquiesced mechanically, but couldn't tear her eyes off him. A tall gangly youth of maybe twelve, he was not beautiful as his two half-brothers and his skin and hair were very white, almost unreal, so that his birthmark stood out even more, but she was fascinated nonetheless.
Shiera ignored her aunt's warning, skipping towards him, and she was pierced by a red stare, so intense that the world seemed to stop.
"Why does it have to be you?" she asked.
Brynden donned his crimson halfhelm and mounted his steed.
"I am his brother, Shiera. It is my duty." he replied.
"I do not want you to die..." she whispered.
"I won't, I promise. I will be back for you after we win." he said, smiling. His eyes sparkled as he patted his weirdwood bow.
Shiera did nor reply, but yanked him down towards her and kissed him. The Raven's Teeth hooted and cheered for their commander.
A slight blush appeared on his cheeks.
"I love you." he said and was gone.
Blood was still seeping from the bandages covering his right eye. His face was drawn with pain and his only remaining eye was red-rimmed.
He looked young and frail and exhausted, but he was still alive. Shiera felt so relieved that her legs trembled and she wanted to cry with joy.
She sat on the bed next to him and let him lay his head on her lap, caressing his hair. His arms sneaked around her waist and held her fiercely, as if he wanted to make sure that she was real.
Bloodraven the Kinslayer fell asleep with a lullaby.
He had asked her out again and she had refused again, as usual.
His sadness pained her, but she would not relent.
Shiera loved him with all her heart, but she would never marry him. She feared that she would be completely in his thrall if she became only his, not by his fault, but because she needed him that much. Every other man that she took to her bed was just a safety blanket to distance herself from him, to make him wait and yearn just as she did. Sometimes, however, she whished she was not so bloody stubborn.
Despite the rumours about the negromantic practices she was supposed to employ to keep herself young and beautiful, she felt ugly and used, wrinkles on her face, her skin losing tone, her breasts sagging. She didn't have it so bad as some, but she was growing old, it was undeniable. The striplings she bedded lately kept on flattering her but they didn't see her for real, just the idealized image of the seductress they had of her. Only when Brynden looked at her as if she was his every dream, his every need, his every desire she felt beautiful again.
