Hello there guys. Wowza. 50 followers and only 4 chapters. I didn't keep a track of it, but this has to be a record of mine or something.
Thank you for giving this a try. I will try to update as soon as I can.
A lot of you have been pushing me (and I mean it, pushing :D ) to make this an Aegon/OC story. I am reading A feast for crows as of now, and if there's an Aegon before that, I did not see him. Yeah, I know very well who he is and I've seen the whole Griff thing, I did my research, but I've never read about the character. Basically, I know nothing. However, I do want to explore this and I am not saying "NO" to it just yet. I want to see where this will go to.
By the end of this chapter, we will have one contender of the table for good. However, even if there is a clear favorite, that does not mean that will be end game. I am still exploring it and I am yet to pick for her :D You will see a good sentence by Olenna in this chapter and I think you'll know what I mean. It's all child's play. She is not Margery, to have men running and stumbling before her feet.
I am yet to make a choice(man, it's like I'M the one that's getting married, not my OC), but as I said, one contender is of the table by the end of this chapter and I do hope you do not hate me for it. He will be a big part, for sure. Just not as a hubby.
Anyways, if you read this, thank you for your attention *bows*. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! :)
Last night, I did not sleep well. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, thinking of too many things at once.
To make it all worse, I was thinking about men.
As someone who always held her head proud, saying that I am not interested in marriage or flirting with the possibilities, that was a hit for me. The fact that I was not thinking about one particular man only made it worse. My mind was torn, some names and faces appearing with more clarity than the others.
In all that mess, between all those men, one stood out and at least I had an explanation for it. Had it not been for that moment on my balcony, when mine and Jon's eyes met, I would not have been thinking of him as much as I did.
Out of all the possible matches, he is the worst possible choice. In fact, he is not possibility at all.
I do not know who my family will hand me over to, but I do know who they will not hand me over to. A bastard son of a Lord could never be a possibility, let alone the strongest contender. Fully aware that that will never happen, no matter how much I might want it to, I could not keep Jon out of my mind. It was that look. He did not look away. When I saw him earlier, whenever I would sneak a look at him, he was not looking at me. And if, by chance, our eyes would meet, he would look away instantly. Last night, he did not do that. He stood in place and looked directly at me.
Whatever I used to think of myself before had now fallen into water. It would appear that I am easily impressed; all it takes is a long look in my direction.
This issue will be dealt with in my mind. Unfortunately, knowing that Jon would never be a possibility does not remove him out of my head. I can only hope that some of the other men that occupied it could make an impression, and soon; the sooner, the better.
As irony would have it, Jon is one of the first faces I saw today. I made a foolish decision of taking a walk close to the training pit, which would of course be occupied, given that the tournament is right around the corner. Jon was in the pit, along with Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy. Of course he was.
I almost ran away, from them and from it, before I remembered that even if I had proven myself to be weaker than I thought before, I am not a coward. I'll be damned if I let three boys scare me away on my own territory. Especially since they did not even look my way.
My moment of weakness was only that; a moment. With a smile on my face, I make my way down to the pits. I do not venture into the actual pits; my dress is long and it does not go well with mud. I take my place in the same place I will be when the actual tournament starts; the highest platform, where I will be seated with the remainder of my family. I lean on the edge of the balcony and I watch them.
Jon Snow was standing by the side, waiting for his turn, I imagine, as Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy were currently battling one another, using dull swords and shields. As I watch the two of them, I realize that Robb was obviously a better fighter. Theon was far from a bad fighter, at least to my inexperienced eyes, but Robb had the upper hand. I imagine he also had more training.
As I watch, Robb manages to knock Theon's sword out of his hand and smiles, proud of himself.
I start clapping my hands, causing all three of them to look up in surprise. Once again, they prove my suspicions. Jon is the one that looks away, Robb is the one with a kind smile and Theon is the one with a smirk. I, for one, did not know where to look.
"Lady Clara," Robb gives me a nod of his head. "What brings you here?"
"I was bored," I shrug. "When I heard a swordfight, I thought I might enjoy one."
"I am afraid we might disappoint you." Robb tells me.
"Speak for yourself," Theon speaks up. "I know what I am doing." He smirks my way before picking up his sword from the ground and attacking his friend. Robb was ready and he defended himself from Theon; a smile did not leave his face. Unlike him, Theon actually seemed to put in some effort. Once again, I see that he knows what he is doing with a sword, but Robb is simply better. It was not an even fight, not from where I am standing. In a matter of moments, Robb has knocked Theon's sword out of his hand yet again; not only did he knock the sword, but he also made Theon stumble, nearly falling. He managed to stay on his feet, but he did not look pleased.
"You must forgive him, Lady Clara," Robb smiles at me. "He tends to lose his footing when there is a pretty woman around." He tells me. It does not escape my notice that Theon glared at him.
"Huh," I sigh, nodding my head. "And what about you, Lord Robb? Am I not pretty enough to make you lose your footing?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him. He was not expecting that.
"No," Robb shakes his head, speaking fast. "No, no, Lady Clara. That is not what I was implying…" he starts. I smile at his confusion, and I hear a laugh, coming from Theon, without a doubt.
"I am only jesting you, Lord Robb," I smile, watching as he breaths out a sigh of relief. "That remark was too good for me to simply ignore it," I add. Theon was laughing at Robb. I remember what Willas told me the night before; there is a difference between being cocky and being confident. Theon was cocky and to make matters worse, he was cocky without anything to fall back on. "I would not laugh if I were you. At least Lord Robb doesn't lose his footing as soon as a skirt passes by."
Not only does Robb laugh, but so does Jon. I smile proudly as Theon's eyes narrow at me.
As intriguing as he might have been, I have a suspicion that I will no longer be directing glances his way.
"I bid you goodbye, my Lords," I nod, smiling before I turned to walk away. I stop at the last step that leads out of the pit. "Theon, do keep an eye for the rubble. It can be dangerous."
I smile proudly as I walk away, listening to Jon and Robb laughing.
Us women are a strange thing, drawn by the strangest of behaviors. There is no doubt in my mind that I am not the only one who found Theon attractive, even with that smirk of his.
Luckily for me, I had my big brother to warn me in time. Not to mention that a Greyjoy would not be something my Grandmother would be satisfied with.
If I am to play this game as it should be played, I should stop wasting my time on men that are not ready to play the game with me. Oberyn made the game and he was already playing it, even if I highly doubt that he would seriously consider the prospect of a marriage between the two of us. Tyrion and Jaime… I doubt it. My family would not be happy to see me by Tyrion's side and I doubt Jaime likes me well enough to even consider giving up the Kingsguard for me. The only other possible players are Robb Stark and perhaps Edmure Tully, and neither one of them showed a particular interest for playing.
How ironic is it? All this talk about a marriage, all of this, crowding my mind, and no one actually wants to marry me? This is as pathetic as it is confusing.
No wonder Jon Snow caught my eye. He is the only one that expressed any kind of interest in me, even if it was no more than one long, strange look.
I admire my Grandmother. I also find her very amusing. I beam with pride when someone tells me I remind them of the young Olenna Tyrell, if only for my tongue. Out of all the possible female role models I could grow up with, I grew up with the best one.
But the Queen of Thorns was not always nice. When she wanted something, she knew how to get it and better yet, she knew exactly what to say or do, to make someone else get it for her. She would barely even lift a finger. While I admired here and loved her dearly, there was a part of her that I was genuinely afraid of. She had a look she would give to someone that has crossed her, and that was about to fall victim to one of her thorns. She had that look now, as she was watching me.
When she invited me to dine with her, I suspected nothing. When I arrived and realized that I am the only one of my siblings that she invited, I realized that I might just be in over my head. Now, her eyes are narrow as she watches me in suspicion and I just know I managed to do something wrong.
"Will you tell me what wrong I did or will you just keep strangling me with your eyes?" I ask when her look becomes unbearable. The only way you can save yourself if you are up against Olenna Tyrell is if you show your teeth before she finishes you. If you do that, you may just survive.
"Out of all the possible men you could spend time with, you chose the Red Viper, The Kingslayer, The Imp and the Northerners," she says and I could hear judgment in every single word that came out of her mouth. "Have I taught you nothing?" she asks me.
I should have seen this coming. It was absolutely predictable. Of course she would know, of course she would interfere and of course she would remind me that everything I have and everything I know is because she gave me and she taught me. Once again, I can only be amazed at my own stupidity. Especially because I thought I was doing nothing wrong. I thought she would be happy, but apparently, I was doing the right thing, only with the wrong people. Wrong people in her opinion.
"You have taught me plenty," I shake my head in disagreement. "One of the things you have taught me is to always be a nice little Lady, keeping my opinions to myself. I should treat everyone with dignity and respect, and if I do feel the need to roll my eyes at someone, I should do it behind their back."
"I didn't teach you to dance with the Kingslayer."
"What was I supposed to do? Decline and swat his hand away?" I ask.
"No. Not looking like a fool in love would have been helpful."
"Grandmother, I am not in love with Jaime Lannister and I can assure you that you are the only one who thinks I might be. I simply danced and talked to him. Just because I do not despise him as the rest of the realm does, does not mean that I want him to marry me. And if that is what you think I want, I assure you, I do not." I tell her. Jaime is a beautiful man and kinder than most would imagine. At least with me, that is. But beauty and kindness are not enough. And, as Oberyn so kindly reminded me the night before, he is in the Kingsguard. It would be possible for him to leave it, become the heir to Casterly Rock and take a wife, but it would take great effort. I do not think Jaime Lannister likes me enough to do so.
"And what about you, gawking at the Stark boy and his companions earlier today?"
"How do you even know about that?" I ask in surprise.
"Darling, the sooner you realize that I know everything, the better for you," she sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. "Why them?"
If she knew everything, as she claims to do, we would have a different conversation. There are many, many things Grandmother knows nothing about, especially about her grandchildren. Provoking or challenging her could only end badly for me, so I do not do that. If she was to know there was more, she would dig until she would find the gold. After all, she already knows more than I want her to.
"For one, I was not gawking," I sigh. "I saw them training and I approached them. I am sure father, Willas, Margaery or Loras would have done the same. I simply spoke to them and left. I was not gawking and rest assured, I did not look in love."
"What you imagine you look like and what the others see can often be two very different things."
"Yes, they can. And I imagine they often are, but it was not like that today. Whatever your little foot soldiers told you, whoever you had spying on me… they are wrong. What they saw today was me being a good host. Nothing more, nothing less. I did nothing wrong." I tell her.
She stares at me for a moment. As much as I wanted to turn my head, I do not do it. If you look away from her, she will end you. If there is one thing she cannot stand, it is people without a backbone.
"You are more gullible than I thought," she shakes her head. I could hear the disappointment in her voice too. "You are doing everything wrong."
"What am I doing wrong? Enlighten me, please, because I do not understand." I snap.
"You are charming them and you are doing it well," she tells me. "You are a charming person by nature, so it does not seem as if you are trying hard to do it. You are charming them and they all like you, but none of them want to marry you. The Kingslayer wants to dance with you, but he would never marry you. The Red Viper wants to bed you, not to marry you. If you think differently, you are stupid."
"You do not know that," I shake my head. "You do not know it and neither do I."
"Yes, I know it. I know it because I know men!" she snaps at me. "He wants you in his bed, not in his life. Gods only know what the Kingslayer wants. And the rest of them might be attracted to you but they do not want to marry you and that is where you are wrong."
"Grandmother, please!" I gasp, sounding as if I exploded. "This is not a game of marriage! My life is not a game! I am not trying to trick anyone into marrying me! And even if I did, what good would that be, when you will end up choosing for me? Stop it, please. I have had enough."
"And that is what you do not understand!" She yells. She does not yell, not at me at least. Well, she did not used to. Times have changed. "We cannot give you to anyone if no one asks for your hand! They need to ask for your hand first. We cannot push you on them. Someone needs to ask first, Clara. And no one will ask if all they want to do is to bed you for one night and forget about you the morning after."
I understand that she is saying these words to help me, in her own, unique way, and not as an insult. I know that, just as I know how easy on insults she is. I know this is her, trying to make me see sense, even if it is only her sense, her point of you. Knowing all of that, it all still sounded like a mean insult.
She is telling me that I am not enough. Hearing that you are not enough? It doesn't matter how much confidence you have, how sure of yourself you are. Hearing that you are not enough is the worst thing one could hear. Especially when it comes from the mouth of a loved one.
"What do you want me to do, then?"
She will not back down. The only way I could save my own sanity is if I am the one that backs down. I will do as she says. It is easier that way. When you know you cannot win a battle, perhaps it is better if you just drop your sword to the ground, surrender and keep your life.
"Choose one," she tells me, and this time, her voice was calmer. Nice, even. She can be nice as much as she wants. I will never forget what she said before. "Choose one of them and focus on them. Not Oberyn, not the Kingslayer. Not the Imp. They will never marry you, darling. They are a waste of time and will not help you in any way. Choose one and make him fall in love with you. Only if they think they love you, they will ask for your hand. Men ask for a woman's hand, that is true. But it is the woman that makes them ask for her hand. Not with those words, oh no. We never ask. We do. We make them think that no one would be a better mother, that no one would be a better Lady, that no one would ever be a better lover. We make them think that with us, they will forget everyone else. That after one night, no woman will ever be enough, but us. That is what we do. And that is why they ask." She tells me.
Or, they want to have an alliance. Not all marriages are based on love. Not all are based on passion.
"Who do you want me to choose then?" I ask, knowing that my opinion does not matter. I would rather have Tyrion, Oberyn or Jaime over Dickon and the likes of him. I tried to say that, but she did not listen. If my choice does not matter, why does she act like it does? She can take her pick, I will play her game. I am probably going to end up with a miserable life as it is.
"I want you to choose a man that is your height," she tells me. "A man that does not have eight bastard daughters. A man that does not sleep with his sister when he thinks no one is watching."
"Grandmother!" I hiss, looking around, hoping that no one could hear us.
"Darling, we are in my own chambers."
"You are the one who told me never to be too careful, not even in my own home," I remind her. I cannot believe she just said that. There had been rumors, and with a brother who was at King's Landing often, for his own lover, we knew more than most. Loras had no proof, he saw nothing, but he had every reason to believe it was true, just as we had every reason to believe him. Be that as it may, we were always very quiet, never talking about it openly. And now Grandmother just goes and says it out loud, with the subject of our conversation being in the very same castle that we are in. "You cannot talk about such things. Rumor or not, we do not talk about it."
"Defend him all you like, darling. You know what you believe in."
"Who do you want me to choose?" I ask her again, hoping she would not go back to the former subject.
If someone had heard her talking about the Queen and her brother like that, she would have her head on a spike. I may not enjoy her company at all times, or her words, but I do not want to see her dead.
I don't care if it is the truth or not. It does not affect me in any way. And as she just pointed out, Jaime has no intention of ever marrying, certainly not me, so there is no way for it to affect me in the future. All I know and all I care for is that Jaime has always been nothing but kind. Out of the respect I have for him and his younger brother, I do not go around spreading rumors, as true as they may be. Not to mention that I would not like to have my head on a spike either.
"Someone better than that," she tells me.
"Give me a damned name." I order, as my cup was overflowing now. "Give me a name."
"Stark. Tully. And if you are mad enough, Martell."
"Did you not just poke fun at me for, gawking at the Northerners, as you said it?" I ask.
"It is one thing to make Robb Stark feel attraction towards you, and another to look like a foolish little girl in love, in front of his friends, at that." She tells me. Whoever offered her that piece of information clearly did not wait long enough to hear me teasing them, all of them. Well, Robb and Theon. I did not tease Jon. Whoever is the one working as my Grandmother's eyes and ears is not doing a good job and is giving her false material. Material she uses to embarrass me, even insult me.
"Very well," I sigh as I stand up. "If I may be excused.
"Why leave so soon?" she asks, and to her credit, she looks genuinely surprised. It amazes me how she cannot see how elegantly she has pushed me of the edge. "Where are you going?"
"Away from you."
I think this is the first time I have been openly rude to her. And she deserved it.
"If you are here to talk about what I think you want to talk about, please, avoid me," I mumble, staring at the goblet in my hand. "I have already warned you, I've had a horrible day and I have had one cup too many." I say and Oberyn chuckles as he takes a seat across the table from me. I was enjoying my night, away from the crowd on the excuse of feeling unwell. It was perfect, until he showed up.
"I am here to talk about whatever you want to talk about, my love," he tells me. "I was worried. You were not at the feast and I can assure you, your absence was not unnoticed."
"Oh, I am sure my many suitors cried tears all night."
"Why are you talking about your marriage when you do not want to talk about your marriage?" he asks me in irritation. And I understand why. I say one thing and do another. I have been doing that quite a lot lately. Knowing how annoyed I am when people around me do that, I really need to stop it. "You need to make a decision, my love. I will follow you, whichever one you choose."
"Oberyn, I know you will not marry me. Let me finish, please," I ask of him, raising my hand to stop him, as I saw that he was ready to speak up. He closes his mouth and nods. "I know that will not happen. You told me before that I am contradictory and you have been the same; one thing you say this, the other day, you say that. I can it feel it in my bones; I know that that will not happen, but I want to hear it from you. I need to hear it from you and we must close that book together, once and for all. You will either ask for my hand in marriage, or we will stop it all. I cannot play this game if I am playing on too many fronts. If you are going to marry me, let's just finish the game. If not, let me take my troops and leave for another battlefield, because I'm running low on strength." I tell him.
I was not expecting to have this conversation and I certainly did not think I would be the one who start it. He is my friend and I know I can tell him the truth. As a friend, it is not fair of him to treat me like a pray, to play with my feelings and my options, changing his mind as soon as the sun goes down and then again, when the sun rises. I deserve more than that and he as a friend should be able to provide it.
"I will not marry you." He sighs.
"I am sure Ellaria will forgive you for not bringing me back with you," I say, in the hopes of adding some joy to this conversation; it works, as he chuckles at my words. "Alright. Now I know. I know what to do."
"What do to?" he asks me in confusion.
"I need to focus on one," I explain. "And that one will not be you. So, the numbers are lower now."
"Who will you focus on then?" he asks me.
"I do not know and that is the problem." I admit. "I am literally not allowed to focus on the Lannisters, for various reasons. I absolutely refuse to focus on Dickon Tarly."
"You don't have many options then, do you, my love? The Stark boy, right?"
"And his uncle, Edmure Tully," I add. To my surprise, Oberyn laughs. "What?" I ask him.
"You do not want the Tully," he shakes his hand, sounding way too confident as I have never spoken to him about Edmure Tully. But that is Oberyn; he sounds confident about everything. "For some reason I cannot fathom, you are attracted to the Northerners, aren't you? I've seen it. I can smell it."
"Oh, you can't smell anything," I snap in annoyance, making him laugh. "I feel nothing."
"No, you do not love the boy, but you are attracted," he shakes his head. "Although I prefer the Dornish heat, I see what you see as well. He has his… qualities." He adds, causing me to raise an eyebrow at him. "I will help you."
"Help me how?" I ask him in confusion.
"I will help you seduce him." he tells me. As simple as that. He says as if he just promised to help me find a book I was looking for, or something as trival as that, and not seducing a man grown.
"Oberyn," I start, taking a deep breath to calm myself. "I was not raised in Dorne. If I was a Dornish woman, I'm sure I would be happy to learn the act of seduction from you. You people… you take passion with seriousness. You are proud of it and you love it. As you should. I am sure it is amazing, and I know that it is normal for you. But it is not normal for me. I was raised in a different way. We do not sleep with men before marriage, Oberyn. I cannot seduce someone if I am not married, and even then, the only person I am allowed to seduce is my husband. I can't just… let him bed me and hope for a marriage."
"Who said anything about bedding?" he asks me in surprise. "I said seduction, my love. Seduction and sex are two very, very different things. And your ways will come in handy." He adds, smiling.
"I cannot understand a single word of what you are saying." I admit, making him laugh yet again.
"Love, nothing can make a man's blood boil than a woman he can't have," he tells me. "If he wants you and cannot have you, and you show him that you want him as well, in the most elegant of ways, I promise you, you will have his cloak, his name and his children. If you know how to make him want you, truly want you, he will stop at nothing to have you." he tells me. I feel the hair on my arms stand up, just listening to his words. It sounded like a poem, even if he was speaking about the most animalistic parts of a human nature. But he is right. Men are simple.
"Margaery always says that there is a fine line a lady can't cross."
"Love, I've seduced more men than your sister, I can assure you," Oberyn tells me. Well, that is one way for him to prove his worth. "Let me help you. Let me teach you. The Stark boy will be eating out of your hand by the end of the tournament, and all the while, he will not even realize what you have done."
"Oberyn… that sounds very interesting and fun, if I am being honest, but I do not have that power," I shake my head. I might be nice, charming and pretty on the eyes, but I am not seductive. I am as seductive as a dead fish is. I would panic every time Oberyn would flirt with me, for the love of Gods! If anyone knows I am not seductive, it is this man, the man that claims he could teach me.
"Oh, you have it love," he shakes his head. "It is very raw and unpolished, but you have it. You know how to use it too. With a little more practice and a little more guidance, you will be unstoppable."
"You want to help me seduce a man?" I ask, still unsure if he was serious or not. He sounded and looked quite serious to me, but this is Oberyn. I can never know what he is thinking, even if he says it out loud.
"Yes. And I will help you. And we shall be successful." He promises.
"Alright then."
The Red Viper, the Prince of Dorne, the man who did not hold back at his attempts to get me into bed with him and his paramour, the men who flirted shamelessly with me has just offered me his help in seducing a man I don't even know if I like. And I accepted it.
This will either be the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
I will try to seduce Robb Stark. Even though he is not the Northerner I keep thinking of.