Wolves Aflame Chapter 2d: children without mothers, a game of thrones fanfic

HERE COMES PART 4 OF CHAPTER 2!

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters, plots, and settings are property of GRRM. I, unfortunately for my crescive student load debts, make no profit off of this. All I get in return is sleep deprivation and anxiety over whether readers will like it enough to review/hate it enough to flame ;)

Timeline

275 AC: Cersei hears Maggy's prophecy (in which there is no valonqar)

279 AC (Year -2): Rhaenys Targaryen is born. Elia takes a long time to recover from delivering Rhaenys.

281 AC (Year 0): Elia pregnant with Aegon. Maester Pycelle tells Rhaegar that if this second child doesn't die during labour and/or kill his wife, the next one will. Harrenhal tourney (and thus the QOLAB passover) is thus even more shocking because it happens when Elia Martell is pregnant. Aegon Targaryen is born. Lyanna 'abducted', Brandon Stark and Rickard Stark die per canon, Robert's Rebellion starts, including Ned's marriage to Cat. Willas Tyrell is 2 years old, Loras Tyrell is 1 year old, Renly Baratheon is 4 years old.

282 AC (Year 1): Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell born. Viserys and a pregnant Rhaelle sent to Dragonstone for protection, but when Baratheons seize it, they run away via ship. Stannis chases them, but due to a storm, cannot find them. They are considered lost at sea and dead.

283 AC (Year 2): Jon Targaryen born and Robert's Rebellion ends. Lyanna Stark crowned the "Second Queen". End of war reparations (infamously known as 'Rhaegar's Reparations') announced. This includes the beheadings of Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and Balon Greyjoy; Stannis and Renly getting traitor brands on their arm and hand, respectively; Lannisters paying reparations to the crown; and Tyrells being denied the betrothal of Margaery to Aegon at the time (though Rhaegar tells the Tyrells she is still one of the females to be considered in the future). Ned returns to the North sans fake-bastard. Gendry Waters born.

284 AC (Year 3): Stannis marries Cersei Lannister. Elia dies leaving behind three-year-old Aegon and five-year-old Rhaenys. Rickon Targaryen conceived. Sansa Stark born to Catelyn Stark. After stint in Maidenvault to ensure she wasn't pregnant with an Aryrn heir, Lysa betrothed to Jaime Lannister.

285 AC (Year 4): Shireen Baratheon (born to Cersei Baratheon). Rickon Targaryen born (Lyanna dies while giving birth to him). Shireen branded on her cheek. Arya and Bran – twins – born to Catelyn. Gendry's mother killed.

292 AC (Year 11): Aegon shoots an arrow into Rickon's back. Rhae arranges for Rickon to get lessons with Sam (instead of with Aegon and Jon), and for Arthur Dayne to teach him.

294 AC (Year 12): Rhaenys poisoned. Rhaegar agrees to betroth Rhaenys to Robb, but refuses to let Rickon ward there. They try to run away, but are stopped by the Kingsguard. Rhaegar propositions Rhaenys in front of Darry, she declines. She is sent to Dorne.

295 AC (Year 13): Rickon and Sam save a boy by the dock, gaining support of the Brotherhood. Rickon starts his clinic. Wren witnesses Jon and Aegon brand Rickon with a 'bastard's brand' on his leg.

298 AC (Year 16): Shireen and Rickon (age 12) befriend each other during Jon's nameday tourney.

298 AC (Year 16): Shireen and Rickon (12) befriend each other during Jon's nameday tourney.

STORY SO FAR

(I know I take too long to update, I'm sorry, but here's something to reacquaint everyone with the story's plot so far!)

Chapter 1: Rhaegar Targaryen loses in his one-on-one against Robert at the Battle of the Trident, but Lewyn kills Robert by stabbing him in the back. Rhaegar has his knights bring Lyanna and their newly born son (Jon) to King's Landing, where he crowns Lyanna as the Second Queen and starts dealing out "Rhaegar's reparations" (essentially punishing families who didn't support him as well as he feels they could have, or those families who supported the rebels). Lyanna becomes the second queen. Elia dies shortly after the rebellion ends. Lyanna dies giving birth to Rickon. We learn that there are some people who believe that Robert should have been King (calling him Robert the Wronged instead of Robert the Rebeller), and that there are already whispers of sedition being seeded around the Kingdom.

Chapter 2 Part 1: We saw why Rhaegar was so brutal with his reparations (punishments for the rebel supporters), as well as how Cersei and Stannis came to care for each other (with some hints as to what Maggy's new prophecy to Cersei was throughout the chapter; of not, there is no Valonqar). Renly, who is traumatized from the branding by Rhaegar, vows to protect Cersei's child. Cersei fears she will die in childbirth. This spurs her epiphany re: Tyrion not being to blame for her mother's death. She invites Tyrion to Storm's End.

Chapter 2 Part 2: We see how Rhae becomes close to Lyanna. Lyanna makes Rhae promise to look after Rickon, fearing that Rhaegar won't because Rhaegar wanted a daughter (for the prophecy, though Rhaenys isn't made aware of exactly why he wants another daughter at that time). Lyanna's POV explains why she ran, and she writes letters to her brothers (sent to Winterfell). She also writers letters to the children (given to Rhaegar). From Lewyn's POV we see his struggle with his vows, as well as Jaime's. We see that Rickon and Rhae are super close, and that Rickon thinks of her as his sister/best friend/mother. From Rickon's POV, Aegon hates him and Jon always sides with Aegon. Arrow incident happens (Aegon hits Rickon's arm with an arrow). Rhaegar is a jackass about it. Rhaenys finds out about the arrow incident and gets Sam (Maester in training) to be put in charge of Rickon's tutelage while ordering Ser Arthur Dayne to train him in swordplay. From Sam's POV we learn the Citadel is an independent city state

[I am well aware that in cannon, the Citadel is NOT a city state and NOT between the Reach and the Riverlands. However, for the purpose of this story, the Citadel is like the Vatican (an independent city state) – I am warping characters, history, and geography in this fic to suit my plot needs because ffn LOL. The significant of this will make sense later.]

Rhaenys gets sick, Rickon tells her Aegon tried to poison her. Rhae tries to get herself betrothed to Robb Stark and Rickon made a ward of the North so that they can escape King's Landing, but Rhaegar is again, a jackass. Rhae and Rickon try to run, but the Kingsguard stop them and then Rhaegar accuses them of plotting to usurp crown from Aegon. Rhaegar 'punishes' them by sending Rhae to Dorne the next morning (to stay there until she is sent to the North to wed Robb), and he bans Rhaenys and Rickon from writing to each other. Rhae says something that mirrors Elia in chapter 1, Rhaegar gets drunk and essentially offers to wed her to make her Queen. Rhae says no, and gets an unfortunate dose of betrayal when Ser Darry doesn't step in to help her against Rhaegar's advances. Rhae repeats the knight vows, making Ser Darry question them. That evening, she visits Sam, the members of the Kingsguard (though you won't know what for until later!), and then finally Rickon (to whom she gives Balerion as a "loan"). Rhaenys leaves for Dorne the next morning, worried for Rickon's safety, as well as fearing what Jon & Aegon are capable of doing to him once she is no longer there.

Chapter 2 Part 3: Rhaenys arrives in Dorne, a plot already brewing in her head as she endears herself to the Martells. Ser Arthur Dayne's POV shows pride over Rickon's skills, explains why the smallfolk love Rickon, and expresses concerns regarding how Rhaegar treats Rickon, and a (correct) suspicion that Rhaenys has plans involving Rickon to overthrow the crown. We meet Rickon's friends (including Gendry, Lommy, Hot Pie, [W]Easel, and Griff). Rickon and Sam save the life of a dock worker, and Sam unintentionally blows Rickon's cover, leading to more smallfolk loving him. Moreover, his heroics catch the attention and unintentionally makes allies out of the leaders of the Brotherhood without Banners. After Rickon realizes the dire straits of the smallfolk, he makes a vow to himself to improve Flea Bottom, starting with a clinic he funds to service the poor. Sam and Maester Tarot are the main volunteers. Next we see a POV from Wren, one of Varys's little birds, who sees Rickon face his brothers in combat. She sees Rickon initially try to decline Aegon's challenge, only being spurred into it when Aegon insults Rickon's mother (who Aegon means to be Lyanna, but Rickon interprets as an insult to Rhaenys, as well as a reminder that Aegon tried to kill her). Wren sees Jon trick Rickon into showing him the tunnels, where Aegon awaits. Then Wren overhears as the older Princes brand Rickon's leg with a "bastard's brand". Next we see the full Tansy (Peach owner) POV, which introduces Jon's nameday celebrations and the smallfolk's opinions on each of the royals. Then we get a flashback to the past with Gendry's mother's POV, who tries to escape King's Landing with Gendry only to be killed and for Gendry to be dropped off at Mott's courtesy of Lord Varys. Back to the present, we FINALLY meet Shireen from Renly's POV. They have come to Jon's nameday tourney in KL with Ser Bronn and Ser Farring and a whole load of others from the Lannister and Baratheon retinue. It's hinted at that for some reason, Stannis and Tywin wanted Shireen in King's Landing for the tourney. We learn that Renly begrudgingly spent some time squiring in the Reach, and cares for Loras though it is something that causes him great inner conflict. Shireen and Rickon meet in the library, and they're tots adorbs and cutely awkward together. They secretly spend time together in the tunnels under the Red Keep, nearly every day during the tourney (while Shireen's guards think she is reading in the library, and stand guard outside it). Balerion adores Shireen, because who doesn't? Shireen reveals a desire to read 'The Testimony of Mushroom'. The duo get along swimmingly, until Rickon brings up her mother. Shireen ends up dragging him into the tunnels, because she feels she owes him the story of what happened to her brother. Shireen warns Rickon that he will hate her once he knows what she did to her brother.

A/N: As always, responses to reviewers and preview of upcoming chapters at the bottom. If you catch any mistakes, please make note of them and let me know if a review/PM!

.x-X-x.|*|.x-X-x.

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach. He may never get the chance again."

~Renly Baratheon, A Clash of Kings, Chapter Catelyn III

"Promise me, Ned... Promise me."

~Lyanna, A Game of Thrones, Chapter Ned I

"The best part of him died with her."

~Gerion, A Storm of Swords, Chapter Tyrion V

"It should have been you."

~ Catelyn [to Jon], A Game of Thrones, 1x01

"An open heart is what you'll get in Flea Bottom if you're not careful, my dear."

~ Cersei Lannister, A Game of Thrones, 3x01

"So I prayed to the gods 'Take him away, make him die'. He got the pox and I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived. A murderer. I'd condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother, a woman he didn't even know! So I prayed to all Seven Gods 'Let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him...' And he lived. And I couldn't keep my promise. And everything that's happened since then, all this horror that's come to my family...

It's all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

~ Catelyn Stark, Game of Thrones, 3x02

.x-X-x.|*|.x-X-x.

.x.

Wolves Aflame

Chapter 2: children without mothers

(Peaches & Promises & Penance)

Part 4

.x.

If I truly saved her, why would she be crying?

292 AC

Rickon is seven when Rhaenys gifts him the handkerchief.

He frowns at the offering, seeing it as nothing more than an inconvenient delay in their tree-climbing plans. "And what do I do with such a weak and flimsy thing?" he opines, petulantly stretching the delicate-looking stitching. Despite his manipulations, the clothe holds firm, surprising Rickon by its stubborn strength.

His sister gives him a familiar, half-hearted whack across the back of his head. At his disbelieving grunt she raises an unimpressed brow. "Weak?" She questions warningly.

Rickon feels his cheeks puff up. "Well, it sure looked like it!" He defends, still at the age where he is never wrong. He rubs the back of his head, frowning. "Well?" He urges.

Rhae makes to poke his forehead, and Rickon squeals while side-stepping her outstretched hand and foreboding finger. "I know I've taught you better manners," she gently chastises.

Rickon sighs, then pastes on a smile (the exact way she taught him to), and politely asks that she address his earlier query.

Rhae hums in consideration. "You wish to be a knight like Ser Arthur, do you not?" At his confused nod, she continues. "This is something knights do. They carry around a clean handkerchief, ready to give it to some poor crying damsel, or princess, or maiden that they save." She smiles teasingly. "One day you might rescue a lady, and how else will you prove yourself to be a gallant knight without having one of these ready to wipe her tears?"

"If I truly saved her, why would she be crying?" Rickon looks bewildered at her explanation. "And I'd like to think she'd be too thankful for my services to care much for if I had a silly cloth." He punctuates the last sentence with a twirl of the squared fabric. Rhae lets out something close to a snort (at least, as close to a snort that someone as graceful as Rhae will ever let escape) before she once more bypasses his defences to quickly poke his cheek.

Rickon scoffs as he exasperatedly bats away her hand. "Besides," he mumbles quietly, and perhaps a little belligerently, while looking at his boots. "The only lady I'd ever care to save is you."

She smiles tenderly, then bends her knees slightly to match his height, as she takes the cloth from his hands and neatly folds it. She latches on to his earlier arguments. "Sometimes it is the small, silly things that people care for most. In fact, sometimes it is the small things that they remember most of all." She places the folded fabric back into his palms. The embroidered "R" stands out brightly.

R for Rickon.

R for Rhaenys.

(Only, it'll mean something different to them in the future: restraint, remembrance, revenge… Rebellion.)

Finally conceding, Rickon huffs. "I'll keep it because you made it. I suppose that's all the reason I'll ever need."

Rhae pinches his cheeks and he huffily batts away her hand once more. "Oi! Stop it, won't you! I'm not a babe!" He whines.

Rhae laughs lightly, a tinkling sound. "No, of course not."

Patience gone, Rickon rocks on the heels of his feet. "So can we climb the peach trees now? Please?"

She seems to laugh to herself at the timing of his question, which baffles Rickon. Then she offers him a conspiring wink, ruffling his brown curls. "Of course, litle brother. I'll always be here to climb with you. We just have to make sure no one sees, lest we get ourselves into trouble again."

Trouble is a tame word for the seditious plan they whisper three years later, on the night before she is exiled from the Red Keep by the King.

294 AC

"Please don't leave me, Rhae. Please, please don't leave me. I'm scared. I don't want to stay here without you. I can't. Please. Please don't leave me here all alone."

"It'll be okay. I'll make it okay. But you have to listen to me very carefully. You have to do everything I say. Do you understand, Rickon?"

"Nothing will be okay with you gone. We'll never be safe."

"We can be. I have a plan. It's a dangerous thing though… This stays secret between us, Rickon. You cannot ever tell a soul, do you understand me?"

"I promise. I'll do whatever you need me to."

…

"We will need allies, Rickon."

"But how will you convince them? They are Aegon's family as much as they are yours."

"I'll think of something. It's a long journey from here to Sunspear, and longer still until I am sold to the North."

…

"One day, Rickon. We'll be safe. They'll never be able to hurt either of us again, I promise."

Kill him and give me my mother back

For Shireen, her beautiful mother is a collection of fragmented memories.

It is a collection she fervently clings to, keeps safe and secure in a delicate drawer bulwarked within her heart. She revisits the revered drawer often, maintains the memories so they remain fresh and clean, and refuses to let the drawer collect dust. She fears that once the dust starts to settle, the memories will become murky and smeared. She fears letting them fall unkempt will lead them to fade and disintegrate, leaving her with nothing but a whispered name and a hollow space where her mother used to be.

{Shireen's earliest memory of her mother is long golden strands flying against the backdrop of a roaring sea}

When Shireen is five years old, she loves her mother's stories more than anything in the world. And the best time in the whole day is when her mother and her walk side-by-side along the expansive meandering shores of Shipwrecker Bay, her mother spinning stories between the crashing of the waves. During these 'water walks', her mother tells her grand tales about lions and stags ruling kingdoms, proud and strong beasts that defeat every enemy. In between stories, Shireen collects the loveliest shells to gift her mother, who always accepts them with a warm smile that makes her mom radiate the way Shireen believes fabled queens once did.

"I wish I was pretty, pretty like you." Shireen mumbles on one of the water walks, her collected shells dropping to the ground so she can cover her marred cheek with her small hands. Her mother kneels before her quickly, uncaring of the sand staining her lovely yellow and gold gown. The older woman brings a larger hand gently over both of Shireen's, and pulls them both away from her burned skin.

"Oh sweetling, you're the most beautiful thing in this world. You're a lion and a stag, that makes you better than any other girl you will ever meet." And then she says lower, as if sharing a secret. "And one day, I'm going to put a crown on your head; it's your destiny. You'll become the most beautiful and the most powerful woman in this entire country. It's fate for gold to rim your brow."

Shireen embraces her mother tightly. She nods, not quite understanding the bit about the crown and destiny, but too busy indulging in the safety of her mother's arms to question the confusing words. Instead she looks out to the familiar grumbling expanse of dark blue, hears the drums of the crashing waves against the rocky shores, and uses the scene to imagine a diverse world of magic. One with sea queens with scales for tails, asrais and naiads, and all manner of mythical water beings that would not even blink at the ugly burns scorched onto her cheek. Her mother doesn't much like talking about creatures other than stags and lions, but Shireen finds that sometimes her own voiced fantastical stories about the world within the waves can win another coveted smile from her mother.

The next day, the Baratheons entertain a visiting Stormlord and his family. Expectedly, the lord's pretty daughter lets out a not-so-subtle rude comment (much to the Lord's chagrin), making fun of Shireen's face. Also expectedly, Shireen's mother turns towards the visiting little girl with a sharp smile, and rather efficiently makes fun of the girl's nose, ears, and speech. Her mother's pointed comments cause Renly to snort his drink onto his plate in amusement, stray drops of spittle landing on the back of the mortified girl's hands, and Shireen decides her mother to be the most amazing person in the entirety of the Realm. (Renly's pretty great too; she knows he aimed his wayward spit intentionally.)

{Shireen's most confusing memory of her mother is the days and nights the woman spent sobbing in her chambers}

Shireen's mother was happy.

Mostly.

There were two times when she wasn't, that Shireen can remember. Both incidences began with whispered talks and hints of Shireen getting new siblings. Her mother grew round with child twice, and both times Shireen remembers feeling the strong kick of her future siblings (a Myrcella or Joffrey, she was told) only to never actually meet them.

Instead of a baby's wails, she remembers the Bells of the Storm Sept ringing the way they rang for the dead. She also remembers her mother locking herself in her chambers, screaming violently at any who dared enter. Well, any who weren't Shireen or Shireen's father. In fact, Shireen vividly remembers walking in on her parents both kneeling on the floor of their room, and seeing her father clutching her mother with his steady grip, burying his face into her tangled blonde waves, as she grieved loudly and messily into his arms. ("I'm sorry, I'm sorry." / "It is not your fault. Trust me, please." / "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.")

Shireen remembers thinking at the time that it was rather remarkable that her mother remained beautiful even when she wept. And young Shireen didn't fully understand the concept of stillborn at the time. So she didn't grieve like her parents did. Instead she brooded; a lonely little girl promised a companion who never came.

Except… when he did.

{Shireen's most painful memory of her mother is the time the promised companion breathed}

Lady Cersei Baratheon gave birth to Tommen Baratheon, heir of Storm's End, when Shireen was seven years old.

And yet, though the much-anticipated baby boy survived the labour and delivery unlike his two predecessors, he was sickly. He was a feeble thing that left her mother unconscious, and bleeding so much that Maester Jurne approached the present Baratheons and sole Lannister in drenched garb, and advised them all to say their farewells. He told them with a sad face and red hands, that Shireen was hours from becoming motherless.

Shireen remembers entering messy chambers smelling pungently of iron. Shireen remembers fearfully walking towards her beautiful mother, hand in hand with her father. She remembers her father's face shattering when they saw her mother lying still, pale as a ghost, and breathing so slightly she might as well not be breathing at all. Shireen remembers holding a cooling hand and whispering a shaky goodbye, doubting that what was left of her mother could hear her.

Shireen left the room before her father. She paused for just a moment, back pressed against the closed door and looking pleadingly to both Uncle Renly and Uncle Tyrion, who waited in the halls. They could do something, couldn't they? Something to save her mother? Uncle Tyrion was the smartest person she had ever met, and Uncle Renly was the most determined. They would think of something, surely.

She remembers the way that even her uncles' strong faces crumbled, when they heard the faint sounds of her father's sobs echo from the chamber.

.x.

292 AC

'You killed my mother.' Shireen seethes with burning hate in her eyes when she scowls upon the frail beast shuddering in the crib lined in black and yellow. 'Every breath you take, you steal from her.' Shireen laments the watchful handmaiden present at the crib's side, furious that the witness means she cannot reach into the wooden bed and toss her mother's murderer into the sea, to become food for the asrais and naiads to devour. For a moment she is lost in the brutal imagery in her head, and when she returns, a dark idea spurs and grows.

Sacrifice.

She can appease the Seven with a life, just not the life they plan to take. A whimper of sorts comes from the feeble monster in the crib - from hunger, most likely. But Shireen doesn't care. All she hears is the broken sobs of her father, the silence of her uncles, the beautifully strong voice of her mother that they will never hear again ('sweetling, I'll love you forever. I will always be here for you'), and the new voice hissing savagely in the back of her head:

'Kill the monster, so that mother may live.'

.x.

298 AC

Sometimes the edges of those fragmented memories of her mother are sharp, painful to the touch. But Shireen continues her dedicated maintenance. She knows the pain of remembering will pale to the pain of forgetting. So she tells the tales to herself, again and again. In a way, Cersei Baratheon becomes a story, and sometimes Shireen remembers chapters where she played a role in the myth of her mother. Shireen has never spoken the tale that lives so close to her heart so freely, and now she is an open book before this boy who is the only friend she has ever had. A friend she will lose by the last page of this narrative. When Rickon learns what she did to her own brother… when he learns her true capacity for cruelty... there is no world in which he will stay with her.

"First I prayed at our Sept." Shireen whispers into his shoulder, indulging in what she knows will be the last of his presence in her life. "I prayed to the gods 'Take him away. Make him die. Kill him and give me my mother back.' He was already so ill, and small, barely two weeks of age. His every breath rattled. My mother was at death's door, foot already stepping in. So I prayed those foul prayers in our Sept every spare moment I had… until Uncle Tyrion found me. He overheard what I was praying for, and… Oh, Rickon, we fought so horribly. I… I think he hated me, at least for a moment. After his disproval and reprimand, I couldn't dare force myself to face the Sept again… so I started praying for my brother's death in my mother's room instead."

Rickon's face is mostly shadowed, only his proximity lets her see the narrowing of his eyes. His hands clench into the fabric of her forearms, as they hang listlessly on either side of her. He nods his head, and she continues. Her head remains on his shoulder, but she turns to face it away from him, ashamed.

"My mother woke, for only an hour. Perhaps she heard my vile mutterings, I had said half those prayers aloud by her bedside anytime the servants left the room, after all. When she woke up, she was just lucid enough to speak to me. She told me clearly, 'You must love him, and protect him. You are good, you are perhaps the only good thing I have ever done. You must look after your father, your uncles. But most of all, love and protect your brother.' She told me she loved me, and then her eyes closed. And I screamed for the Maester, screamed so loudly; but the moment he entered and heard my explanation he told me some awful spiel of how grief could trick our eyes. But I didn't care that he thought it was a hallucination, I knew what really happened. So I prayed even more than before, but this time, begging the gods to spare both my mother and my brother."

Shireen's voice cracks, and she feels Rickon's hands reposition so that they intertwine with hers. Her eyes burn, and her face burrows deeper into the fabric of his doublet.

"B-But by then his illness had soured, and I knew I was the worst person who ever lived. A murderer. A kinslayer. I'd condemned a poor, innocent child – my own baby brother - to a horrible death all because I was grieving for my mother, a woman he would not even get to know! So I prayed to all Seven Gods every minute of every day, until my knees were raw, 'let my brother live. Let my brother live and I'll love him. I'll be a sister to him. A true sister.'" Shireen trembles. "He died not even three days later. So yes, Rickon, I am cursed in more ways than one. A kinslayer, a slight to the gods with my very breath. The only reason I have not saved the world from my treacherous existence is because I promised my mother I would look out for our family."

Her story ends, and his hands leave hers.

And even though it was the expected outcome, the loss of him hurts just the same. And by the gods, the loss of him hurts so brutally. She lifts her face from his tense shoulder, starts to step away from him with her gaze trained on the ground. "I understand," her voice breaks, "t-that you never want to see me again. I'm worse than even your brothers."

'I succeeded where they had failed. Do you hate me, Rickon? No doubt you must.' Shireen hopes he will offer the mercy of at least showing her the way back out of the tunnels. Even if she remembered the way, she can't make out anything past the tears obscuring her vision.

Her whole body jolts when his hands, surprisingly, return to her. One hand wipes the tears messily running down her cheek while attempting to raise her gaze from the floor, and the other is offering her…

Her eyes squint. Is that... a handkerchief?

"For the lady," he intones deeply, semi-mockingly in an admirable attempt at much-needed (if ostensibly misplaced and slightly awkward) levity, before he continues softly. "And for my friend."

'Friend.'

Shireen's smile is wobbly as she plays along, "I-I thank you for your infallible gallantry, my brave knight." Her trembling fingers take the handkerchief from his proffered hand, and she lets out a wet giggle when he bows exaggeratedly.

"Always for you, my lady." He smiles crookedly, and Shireen feels her breath stutter.

'Friend.'

"Thank you for listening. For not leaving." She says it quietly, though she means it wholeheartedly, and against her will her eyes mist further. Perhaps she might sleep just a bit better now, knowing that at least one person in the world forgives her for her atrocious actions.

Rickon pulls her into a tight hug. It's awkward, but so utterly necessary to keep Shireen standing. She hadn't even realized she was shaking so terribly until he steadied her.

"I'll never leave you."

He says it like a vow into the dark strands lining top of her head, and Shireen believes him. Their shared smile is a small flicker of a connection - of an understanding earned through reliving, and surviving, their most poignant memories together. They're not yet thirteen, known each other for just a sennight, and their family names hate each other bitterly. Yet, it's so easy to trust him: her first friend, the first to forgive her greatest sin, the first boy who starts to win pieces of her heart.

{An increasingly trite tale; another Baratheon cursed to follow a Stark to their grave}

Her final afternoon comes too quickly.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." She tells him, unnecessarily, as they slowly stroll along the now familiar long isles lining the Keep's library.

His grip on her hand tightens. "But, I didn't even get to show you the Lattice, or the docks, or introduce you to my friends. You didn't even get to meet Sam!" It is an unfortunate truth. Despite desiring to share with her the other important parts of his life; they had been unable to craft a long enough timeframe in order to leave the Keep and return, before her guards checked in on her. Truthfully, he could have (and should have) brought Sam down to the library. But, Rickon belatedly realizes that he had been too possessive of his time with Shireen, which was so limited already, to risk diluting it with someone else.

Shireen just nods in response, her throat tight as she keeps her gaze on the titles etched onto the spines they pass. "I really was looking forward to meeting Hot Cake."

Rickon barks out a laugh. He knows she misspoke intentionally, and he appreciates her all the more for it. It hits him then, not for the first time, that losing her is not an option. He tugs on her hand, stopping their pace and turning her gently to face him. "You still can," he begins lightly, almost jokingly. But not entirely so. Rickon has spent more than one night sifting through his crazy thoughts; weaving up different means and methods and plots to keep her with him. "In fact, there are so many rooms in the Keep, so many more than the ones I showed you in the tunnels," he continues teasingly as he lightly pulls on a stray strand of her soft hair. "I could hide you in any one of those rooms. I'd bring you food and water," and any and every thing you ever desired, if only you stayed with me.

By the end of his sentence, his voice loses its initial mirth; he doubts he is truly teasing anymore. He knows it is foolish to hope for her to stay, and suspects that her family would sooner see her dead than allow her to remain in the Keep and stay friends with him.

She gives a soft giggle at his words; the gentle sound slams harshly into his chest. Once more, the inevitability of her departure sends his heart spasming.

'You made me feel safe in a castle that has terrified me for years. I didn't have to pretend or wear a mask with you. Stay with me. Please. Everybody leaves me. I can't lose you too.

Forcing himself to be brave, he seizes the break in conversation to introduce his actual plan.

"My hand is not very good, is what Sam says. He says my writing is only just readable, so it wouldn't be easy for you, but if it's okay, I mean, if you want, I could, well we could... send letters? To each other, I mean." He hedges and stumbles over his request, uncertain of whether she will want to keep his acquaintance once she is back with her family.

She answers immediately with delighted eyes. "Of course! That's a splendid idea!"

His heart beams, until it stops with her addendum. "But..."

Her pause is prolonged as she seems to mull over something in her head. Rickon's grip on her hand tightens, fearful that she will rescind her agreement, and that she will be forced to leave him just like Rhae was.

'Everyone leaves.'

{Perhaps you're just not worth staying for?}

"...But, you must sign off as a serving girl." Shireen nods to herself, her joy pulling Rickon from his dark space.

"What?!" Rickon reels a little, baffled, yet his hand remains clamped onto hers. "Why do I need to sign off as a girl?"

Shireen rolls her pretty blue eyes, in an indulgently exasperated manner that he is now familiar with. "Well, my father would not allow me to engage in private correspondence with a boy I am not betrothed to," she pauses again, and continues on a bit quieter. "Let alone... a Targaryen."

(She forgets his family name often, he knows. It is probably easy for her to do so when he looks so little like his so-called House.)

Rickon raises a brow, eager to bring her thoughts away from the potential political ramifications of their acquaintance. "And your 'proper' lord father would rather you write to a serving girl?"

Shireen's unscarred cheek reddens brightly, the other cheek flushes only in the unblemished, smooth parts. "I haven't many…" ('any,' he hears) "friends, really. I think my father would just be pleased for me to have someone to write too. I can say you do it to improve your hand. Perhaps I can make it so your mother is a lady's maiden to one of the lesser houses in the Crownlands, and is trying to teach you, if he truly asks for details." Shireen seems to buzz with excitement at this new game between them. Balerion casually brushes by her ankles, slyly announcing his presence, and her smile sharpens into a playful smirk. "We can name you Keli. It means Cat in High Valyrian!"

Rickon's eyes widen, now convinced she will never cease to amaze him. "You speak High Valyrian, too?"

Shireen blushes harder, mumbling. "I've been teaching myself." ('I have the time to teach myself; it's lonely back home,' is what he hears.)

Rickon snorts, once more tugging at a stray strand of her hair (he likes that she doesn't flinch when he does it anymore). "Sam would love you, he's been trying to get me to learn High Valyrian forever." Then he contemplates her words. "If you're intent on naming me, I would much rather be a name that means something powerful. Maybe like a wolf, or winter, or even storm."

Shireen brings a curved finger to her chin in consideration. "How very Stark of you. Well, perzys means frozen. So you could be Percy?"

Rickon snickers. "That's an odd sounding name."

Shireen huffs, arms akimbo. "Well can you think of anything better, then?"

Rickon nods, responding easily. "Yes, Rickon!"

Shireen deadpans. "Rickon is not a girl's name."

Rickon shrugs. "It could be."

"Please use another," Shireen beseeches. "There is only one Rickon from King's Landing that any will suspect if they find our letters. Maester Cressen would—"

"That's it!" Rickon grins. "Sam can be our middle man. You can address your letters to him. You're so smart, it would make sense that you would want to correspond with a Maester's apprentice for more knowledge. And he's a major lord's son too, so of appropriate station to be writing to you if anyone finds the letters."

Shireen's eyes brighten hopefully with his every word. "Oh, that's brilliant! Since he is also training to be a maester, and they cannot wed, my father and grandfather cannot deny me by claiming it as a threat to my future bethrothals!"

Rickon gut tightens abruptly at the thought of Shireen being betrothed to someone. He roughly shoves aside the ugly, twisted feeling for now, forcing his smile to remain steady. He tilts his head, "you'll write the first letter then, after convincing your father."

Shireen nods eagerly.

"Good. Then—"

A knock on the library door interrupts him.

Rickon's heartbeat races.

{She's leaving now. Will you let her?}

He hears her call out to Ser Bronn and Ser Farring that she will be with them shortly. He once more reaches for her, only this time both his hands grip her wrists, tighter than intended. She turns her gaze back to him, and he hesitates.

{Will you let another be her first?}

His resolve bolstered, he quickly lays an awkward kiss to her scarred cheek. It's a rushed thing, and his nose hits her cheek before his lips do. His own cheeks flare at his forwardness, and he immediately pulls her closer by her wrists, crashing her into his chest so he can hide his flushed face by hugging her. He'll really miss being able to hold her. Before Shireen, he hadn't had a hug since Rhae left.

"I'm really glad you came." Does she hear the way his voice breaks?

"I-I am t-too." She stutters and his nerves grow even further, sharpening with each breath and clawing up his chest to hook into his throat. Did the kiss scare her away from him?

"You'll write." He orders more than asks. Then he tries to make amends for his abruptness as he buries his face in her dark locks. "Promise me you'll write to me."

"I will, I swear."

A stronger knock bangs on the door, and Ser Bronn's grating voice and a routine (not-funny, in Rickon's opinion) barb encourages Shireen to loosen her arms around Rickon. Sensing his unyielding grip, she pushes against his chest gently. Rickon lets go of her slowly and begrudgingly. "We'll see each other again." He says the words to her sternly, half knowing he says it to convince himself of the fact.

She smiles warmly. "We will, one day. I promise."

He burns the memory of her smile into his heart. He doesn't know how she has become so important to him so quickly, but he knows she is, and is certan she will never stop being important to him. He is convinced of this even as he watches from the Eastern Towers the next morning, as the Baratheon-Lannister platoon leaves the gates of the Red Keep. Neither of the older Princes or the King come down to see her gold and black retinue off, and he is happy for it. He doesn't know what he'd do if the other Princes or the King ever came near her. It'd probably involve the sharp end of his sword meeting the soft flesh of their necks, and a disappointed Rhae shaking her head and berating him for giving away their hand prematurely.

("One day, Rickon.")

He spends the next week grieving much the way he did when Rhae left, running through the tunnels with Balerion. Only this time, he hears the echo of Shireen's easy laughter and sometimes imagines the shadows he chases are the girl with the long dark hair and brilliant blue eyes and kind words and pensive thoughts and protective rebuttals and perfect soul.

Eventually he starts his usual routine again, but in the back of his head he starts to hear her promise too, in addition to Rhae's.

("One day. I promise.")

He eagerly awaits her first letter.

Two weeks go by without it, and the memory of her starts to hurt.

.x.

{Shireen's most recent memory of her mother is a bedridden ghost, hair limp and skin sickly pale}

If it weren't for Uncle Jaime, Shireen suspects she'd forget the emerald green of her mother's eyes and the straw-spun gold of her mother's hair. After Tommen's death, her mother's health improved somewhat. She wasn't at death's door, but neither was she any closer to the world of the living. She just… slept.

With some exceptions.

After the time she prayed for her brother's death at age seven, Shireen's waif of a mother had a few more episodes of lucidity in front of Shireen. The second episode happened only a year after her first. This time, it had been both Shireen and a handmaiden in the room. Her mother opened her eyes, and Shireen felt so hopeful for a moment, until her mother asked for Tommen.

"Bring me your brother. My son, my son. The heir. Father needs an heir to kill all the dragons that hurt you. Fire. The frog promised. Maggy. Crown. Cage."

Lucid is a generous term.

Her mother passes out once more before Shireen can say that she is her father's only heir, and before the handmaiden had returned from grabbing Maester Cressen.

Fever speech, is what the Maester and handmaidens continue to call her mother's words, despite her cool forehead.

The third time her mother awakens, Shireen is alone. She never tells anyone what she heard.

"No crown. Don't ever wear a crown. Say no to the crown, do you understand, sweetling? He'll burn you alive."

{Silly girl, didn't you know the famous words? Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin}

All the world's a stage

Tyrion thinks the gods are truly cruel in their entertainment. What a callous jape: to give him his sister only to take her away.

285 AC

Tyrion and Cersei had a long-standing contentious history for as long as he could remember. Whether it be scorned glances or sharp jeers or foul names, Cersei only ever showed her malice towards him. So when he is summoned to his father's chamber some months after being told that Cersei was pregnant with her first child, Tyion doesn't quite believe what the new drivel his father espouses.

"Cersei asked for my presence at Storm's End?"

"Are you adding deafness to your growing list of shortcomings? Yes. That is what I said. Pack your things. You leave on the morrow."

And despite Tyrion's anger at the way his sister treated him in the past, he found himself much in the same place with her as he was with his father; dealing with the ever persistent desire to mean something to either of them. So as much as he considers himself confused by his summons to Storm's End, he is also traitorously hopeful despite his self-recriminations. But when he arrives, and Cersei actually welcomes him with a smile, Tyrion is absolutely dumbfounded. Then he is suspicious. What trick is she playing this time?

Then she shoves an eight-year-old Renly Baratheon at him, and he wonders if perhaps that was her intent? To have him distract the younger Baratheon so she could spin some game with her husband? Tyrion decides that if that is her end goal, he doesn't much mind his role. The Baratheon boy is only six or so years his junior. A bit dour in all honesty, but right chipper in comparison to Tyrion's brother in law. Even though Renly seems more the type for tourneys than libraries, they get on well enough, and overtime become friends.

But then Tyrion becomes more confused. Because if that was his only role, then why does Cersei demand his presence during times without Renly?

.x.

"I am to spend my morning in the library." She says directly towards him during his first breakfast in Storm's End. Stannis had already left the table and requested Renly's presence by his side.

"Okay," says Tyrion, unsure of how to respond. He chews a little bit faster on his morning mutton, nervous about being in her presence, wary that her disposition will sour to normal now that there are no witnesses.

"Well?" She raises a finely shaped brow. "You're coming, aren't you? I seem to remember you living in the library at the Rock."

Tyrion is too shocked to refuse.

.x.

He continues to think on her softening disposition, and begins to suspect it must be her pending motherhood. He recalls reading books saying that a woman's mood is greatly swayed by the growing babe inside of her, and finally attributes her newfound non-malicious disposition towards him on his growing niece or nephew. It is a hesitant, cautious thing, but he finds himself growing more attached to her with each day that passes that she is not cruel to him.

.x.

"Is there a reason you're fidgeting so much?" Cersei challenges, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

She had demanded that he accompany her during her afternoon walk of the shores. Tyrion doesn't quite know how she noticed his nervousness, when she has spent most of the time during this walk with her eyes on the waves.

"I-" Tyrion stumbles, then figures he might as well hear the truth of it, if what he fears is truly to come to pass. "Renly told me Stannis received a letter from father. Will… will you be sending me back?"

Cersei doesn't let her eyes off the horizon. "He still treats you the same?"

Tyrion nods, doubting she sees him.

She huffs. "You stay with me until I say otherwise. I'm the Lady of Storm's End; I'll not be bullied into sending you back."

.x.

She doesn't apologize directly in words for the way she used to treat him, but in actions. Like when she somehow convinces their father to let Tyrion stay longer with her in Storm's End, and when she lets him be the fourth person to hold his niece.

Shireen Baratheon is a cute little bundle; brilliant and bright and perfect. Tyrion tells this verbatim to a very pleased Cersei, who lies on her bed as she and her husband watch their respective younger brothers hold their new niece for the first time. "Of course she is," Cersei says tiredly, but happily. "She's ours."

Renly seems to be the only person who hovers over Shireen even more than her parents, but Tyrion understands when Renly tells him the story of his discussion with Cersei in the library.

.x.

"I'm her protector." Renly says, eying his burned hand with a cold stare. "I'm never going to let anyone hurt her." The 'like they hurt me,' goes unsaid, but is easily heard.

"Well," tuts Tyrion. "Then I best be one too, lest you steal my title as her favourite uncle."

Renly smirks. "Don't be silly, Tyrion. You can give her as many fairy tale books as you wish, but I'm going to gain her favor forever when I win a tourney and put a crown of flowers on her head."

.x.

Renly and Tyrion spend exactly too much time cooing over their chubby-cheeked niece together, taking turns promising her the world. It is one such time, as they speak in high pitched voices and mimic animal sounds, playing a game out of who can elicit the most smiles from her, that Stannis and Cersei walk in on the trio. Stannis merely raises an unimpressed brow, while Cersei doesn't even try to contain her snort of amusement at the boys' flaring cheeks.

'It's a strange thing,' Tyrion thinks, 'to see a man in love with Cersei.' For of that there is no question, Stannis loves Tyrion's sister fiercely. The older Baratheon is a taciturn man, but that just makes it easier to see the genuine care he has for his wife, to see how his hard looks and harsh tones soften and smooth the moment she enters the room. Tyrion begins to suspect quite early on that Cersei's change is in part due to her husband, who respects her mind more than their father (and even Jaime) ever did. He sees that easily, when he sees how no major decisions are made by Stannis and his bannermen without Cersei in the room to share her input. In fact, the Stormland nobles seem genuinely taken with her, moreso than those of the Westerlands ever were; even Ser Davos compliments her easily.

.x.

"Sharp as a sword, that lady sister of yours." Davos laughs, regaling Tyrion with an instance where Cersei deftly put an overreaching Stormlord in his place.

Tyrion nods proudly. "I like to think she gets at least some of her wit from practicing with me."

Davos laughs again, before telling Tyrion how Stannis had backed his wife's decision. "It's a heart-warming sight, though, isn't it? To see how much Lord Stannis and Lady Baratheon trust and care for each other."

.x.

Tyrion agrees with Davos's sentiment easily. Although Cersei will sometimes playfully badger her husband to get a rise from him (notably, these are the few times Tyrion has ever seen the stern man crack something close to a smile); Tyrion has never even heard the Lord and Lady of Storm's End genuinely fight.

Well, that is, until the day a letter bearing King Rhaegar's seal demands the presence of Stannis and Shireen at court. Tyrion is quickly making his way through the halls (on his way to check in on Shireen before searching out Renly, who was no doubt in the process of doing something recklessly stupid in response to the royal summons), when Tyrion overhears Cersei screaming at Stannis.

It is a hauntingly familiar sort of screeching, the kind she used to ply on him when he tried to befriend her as a child. The ugly reminder of their prior relationship makes Tyrion freeze in his gait. The screaming persists for a few more moments, but then, to his unfettered shock, he hears her beg. It makes Tyrion uncomfortable, he has never heard his sister sound so vulnerable.

"Please, please my love. Don't go. Don't take her there."

"We have no choice."

"We do! What can they do to us? Bring their armies? Let them. My father will bring his. It will be the Westerlands and The Stormlands and all the sellsword armies we can hire—"

"Cersei."

Tyrion hears multiple thumps, suspects it is his sister striking her husband, again and again. Then he hears her sobbing.

"You'll come back?"

"I'll try."

"Don't even hint at such... such nonsense! You will come back. I'll not be a widow, you'll not leave me. You wouldn't dare." He next words are so quiet, Tyrion only barely manages to hear them. "Promise me."

"I'll not make a promise to you that I cannot keep."

"Coward," she hisses, with such vitriol that Tyrion shivers. "You're a coward!"

Tyrion respects the fact that Stannis remains cool despite his sister's physical and verbal assault. He knows Westerland lords who have struck their wives for far less. (Tyrion doesn't notice the way his own fists form, how his back tenses; he doesn't realize the way he readies himself to intervene should his sister's husband try to harm her.)

"I can promise you this. Our daughter will return. Even if it costs me my life, she will return to you. I swear it."

.x.

There is no fanfare as the somber Baratheon party leaves the gates of Storm's End towards the King's Road.

As they ride off, Tyrion feels the trembling presence of his sister beside him. His other side is barren; Renly had been confined to his room, after the stupidly reckless boy had been caught trying to take Shireen and leave the castle in the middle of the night.

(From what Tyrion recalls, Cersei hadn't seem too bothered by Renly's actions. It had been Stannis who had sternly reprimanded the younger boy and sentenced him to his room, only to have Renly scream violently that Stannis was abandoning them; that the King would finish the job the moment his brother stepped into the throne room, and they'd all be lucky if they were even sent back his ashes.)

Cersei doesn't move for a long time, and Tyrion keeps his space beside her, even when his legs begin to ache.

"They're going to kill him, aren't they?" she says dully.

Tyrion frowns. "No, they can't. He's a lord paramount, they'd have no grounds. No reason."

Cersei scoffs bitterly. "Kings don't need reasons. Or have all those history books taught you nothing?"

Tyrion stiffens. She's right, of course she is, but he doesn't want to break her heart further by telling her so. Instead, he does what he does best and tries to think of a solution. He hates his mind when he figures one out.

"Perhaps you could go to father?" He hedges. "Convince him to send some Lannister support to King's Landing. If King Rhaegar is reminded that Stannis has the full support of our House, it might just be enough to make sure he doesn't," kill Stannis and take Shireen hostage, "do anything foolish."

Later, Tyrion is beyond glad of his timely suggestion. When he gets the letter from Stannis describing the brutal branding of sweet Shireen… he knows he does not want to be the recipient of Cersei's reaction, and is relieved that she is learning of her daughter's fate far from him. Of course, that relief is a grain of sand compared to the fury mounting in his veins. His eyes burn as he thinks of sweet, innocent baby Shireen, not even a year old, being held down by Kingsguard as they pressed a burning blade to her soft skin, as she cried out in pain.

'They hurt her. They hurt her. They hurt her. How dare they lay a hand on-'

When Cersei returns to Storm's End, reaching her home before her husband and wounded daughter, Tyrion holds her as she cries. He hears her fierce whispers of revenge, and doesn't know what to make of the vicious vows weaved between her tears.

"Father promised… a son… need a son… he'll make them pay for hurting her."

.x.

292 AC

The gods are cruel, he thinks, to have his sister warm towards him only to rip her away.

Tyrion knows something is wrong by the way the servants leave and enter the birthing room with hurried whispers and bloodied hands.

'She'll be fine,' he tells himself, as he hears the cries of a babe. 'Cersei is strong.' She survived two stillborns, she will survive this.

And yet the servants still leave and enter with even faster steps, and he hears the Maester ordering "more towels!" too often. 'What are they using them for?' He thinks inanely. Because, of course, he knows the answer. But the thought of his sister bleeding to death on the other side of the wooden door is an ugly and unforgivable one. So he ignores his logic and focuses on little Shireen, who is only seven and has either hand clasped between her uncles', as Stannis stands unmoved at the spot closest to the closed door, his blue eyes hard and unyielding.

Maester Jurne comes out, and Tyrion's head is racing, but he thinks the Maester says some nonsense about saying goodbye.

Wait, goodbye?

'Oh.'

Stannis's stone face remains intact as he extricates his daughter from Tyrion and Renly, as the man turns and enters the birthing chamber.

Beside him, Renly starts to shake.

"Not now." Tyrion orders sternly, fists tight and back straight, standing taller than he ever did. "They need us."

A few minutes later, little Shireen stumbles out of the room. Her eyes and nose are dripping, her eyes are webbed red, and her back seeks support by pressing into the door as it shuts. Tyrion tries to stay strong, he does. He is just about to approach his trembling niece, when the grave silence is interrupted by the quiet sobs of Stannis Baratheon.

.x.

"She wishes to say goodbye to you as well."

Tyrion nods, pointedly ignoring the swollen eyes of the lord paramount.

"Where is Renly?"

Tyrion swallows the lump in his throat twice before trusting his voice to respond to Stannis. "He took Shireen to her rooms."

The older man just nods wearily. "I'll retrieve him. Cersei wishes to say… goodbye to him as well. And Shireen, too. She was... her eyes were closed when Shireen was in the room."

Tyrion wants to say that the servants can easily retrieve Renly, but then remembers that Stannis is, and always will be, a soldier. He is the type who needs orders, needs things to do, as a way to handle his grief.

Ser Davos seems to think the same, as he offers to accompany his Lord to the little lady's rooms.

Tyrion waits until the duo turn the corner before he approaches the room. When he finally steps through the entryway, the first thing he sees is the servants in the background trying to clean the bloody cloths away. And perhaps the visual is supposed to be improving, but the stench of death still persists. His eyes stay on the background as he approaches his sister. When his eyes finally turn towards her; paler then she's ever been, eyes glazed in sickness and fever, body limp under the sweat-drenched sheets, he tries his best not to cry.

"Do not let him become father," she says quietly, weakly. He suspects he only hears because his height places him so close to her head as she lays ailing on the bed.

"I won't." Tyrion swears. Because he understands. This child has killed her, the way Tyrion once killed their mother, and she fears her loss will poison Stannis; that her husband will grow to hate their son the way that Tywin Lannister hates Tyrion.

"Protect my children. Protect Tommen. Protect Shireen. Protect her." She orders. Her eyes dull even further, but she seems to fight it.

'You are so stubborn, even at death's door,' Tyrion thinks fondly, with no little degree of admiration at her strength.

"Promise me, Tyrion."

"I promise."

She had been his tormenter for most of his life, but in that moment she was, above all, his sister.

"I'm sorry." It takes a moment for him to register her words. And isn't it just ironic? She finally says the words he has always secretly wanted to hear from her, but they bring him no sense of satisfaction. All he feels is a bitter sense of sadness. "Sorry for how I treated you. You're good. Much better than I ever was. Teach them to be strong, like you were."

.x.

Given the sickly state of her mother and new brother, Tyrion is unsurprised to come across little Shireen in the Sept.

What surprises him is finding her at the stone feet of the Stranger.

(Sweet and precocious Shireen, 'the Heart of Storm's End', who gleefully requests stories of sea queens and naiads, who chases him down in he library to show him her letters, who calls him smart with admiration in her warm smile, who cried whenever he had to make trips back to the Rock, and who beamed whenever he returned.)

"A rare deity to prey to," Tyrion says slowly, suspicion whirling in his gut. "What are you asking for, Shireen?"

"I'm telling him to take my brother and give me my mother back."

Shireen doesn't even hesitate when she answers, her voice harsher than the Lannister ever thought the sweet girl capable of. 'You truly are your mother's daughter,' Tyrion thinks sadly. Because for all his niece's inherent sweetness, there is a vengefulness to her that is entirely Cersei Lannister.

Tyrion sighs, hoping to step in and save his nephew from the toxic relationship he had with Cersei before she wed Stannis. "He is your brother—"

Shireen scowls, standing quickly. Her scarred cheek ripples as she yells. "He is a beast! A murderer! Every breath he takes he steals from my mother!"

Tyrion isn't proud of the fight that ensues, but at least he thinks he got her to understand. After all, in the coming days, he doesn't see her at the Sept before the Stranger anymore. And when Tommen Baratheon dies, Shireen weeps.

.x.

It is a quiet evening two weeks after Tommen dies. It is also only a week after Jaime leaves Storm's End (and Tyrion refused to, because 'Promise me' keeps him up at night). It is on this evening that Tyrion again accidentally overhears a conversation.

He had been about to open the door to Cersei's room, ready to once more regale her sleeping form (sleeping form, because what else does he call the unconscious almost-corpse of his sister?) about the day's events (Shireen's so smart, Cersei. She has all the houses and banners and words of five kingdoms memorized). Instead, his hand stops on the wood, when he hears the croaking of Maester Jurne.

"My Lord, Lady Cersei will not return. She stays as she is only because we massage pureed food and water own her throat. My Lord, a mercy kill is our best option now."

Tyrion's gut wrenches. He stops breathing. He is just about to barge into the room, screaming that the only person to be killed is the vile Maester, when he hears Stannis's quiet - but firm - response.

"See her breathing, Maester Jurne?"

"Aye, my Lord, but—"

"As long as she continues to fight for her life, so shall we." Stannis's voice hardens. "Do not suggest otherwise again."

The Maester sighs. "My lord, I know you cared for her. And she was truly a competent lady, despite my initial doubts. But she failed to give the House an heir. My lord, even if she survives this, her womb is destroyed. She will not be able to bear you sons. She serves no more purpose. I speak with only the best interest of House Baratheon; it would be more prudent to consider taking another wife."

Maester Jurne is sent packing to the Citadel that very evening, and Storm's End greets Maester Cressen when he arrives a sennight later.

Tyrion is quite happy with the new Maester, considers Cressen an upgrade, actually.

(He realizes then, that he can be quite vengeful too. For all his father's mutterings, Tyrion is a Lannister after all).

.x.

Tyrion is wholly uncertain of how to react when, about three weeks after Prince Jon's birthday Tourney ends, he sees a letter addressed to him, sealed by red wax in the shape of a three-headed dragon.

And like Tyrion proves himself a Lannister,

Rickon proves himself a Targaryen.

That is to say,

in the worst of ways.

298 AC

It was Easel who complained about the shit on the streets of Flea Bottom. Rickon isn't sure at all how to tackle that issue initially, until a week or so after Shireen's departure, when he recalls an offhand comment made by her.

("… he put my uncle in charge of all of the drains and cisterns at Casterly Rock … He did such a good job, that even my father hired him to fix the sewers at Storm's End!")

Shireen.

His chest aches and his fists clench at the thought of her.

'Why hasn't she written me yet?'

He dodges the cold grip of that worry by focusing on bettering Flea Bottom for his friends. Only, not really, because as much as recruiting Tyrion Lannister is to help clean the sewers lining the streets, it has a more self-serving purpose as well.

("That's how smart he is. He's smart enough to turn anything around.")

Unlike the clinic, which Rickon supported with his own funds, hiring Tyrion Lannister to revamp the drainage system of Flea Bottom needs to be approved by the Small Council. And so, Rickon prepares a proposal and attends a Small Council meeting, intent to convince the King's hand of his plan. Rickon is thankful that the King is once again shirking duty to be off drivelling about prophecies with Maester Tarot. In fact, it's been so long since he has seen the King, Rickon has begun to forget his face. 'Now, if only I could forget his voice.'

("I chose your mother, and yet you breathe…")

The members of the council seated around the oblong table are each piqued by his proposal and admittedly thorough plan.

Lord Commander Hightower, who Rickon has often practiced with in the training yards, smiles encouragingly at Rickon's proposal. Rickon quite likes the man, Rhae did too.

Next to the Lord Commander, fellow Reachman Lord Garlan Tyrell smiles as well. But his green eyes seem too cunning. They appear to be inspecting Rickon for his secondary goal, and Rickon thanks Rhae once more for training his mask to endure the considering stare of the Master of Ships. Rickon uses the trick she taught him, and keeps himself unbothered by reciting houses and allegiances and relevance. 'Lord Garlan Tyrell. Second son of Mace Tyrell, married to Desmera Redwyne, only daughter of Paxter Redwyne, who owns the largest naval fleet in Westeros.'

Grand Maester Pycelle just wheezes some nonsense, and it takes a great deal of self-control for Rickon not to role his eyes. What a snivelling sycophant. Why Rhae pretended to tolerate him, Rickon can't even begin to fathom.

The Master of Coin, Lord Kevin Lannister, nods along easily and his back straightens in pride when Rickon proposes Tyrion as the best candidate for leading the project, as the man did such a fine job in the Westerlands and Stormlands.

The infamous Lord Varys eyes Rickon with a strange gleam to his small eyes. 'The Spider,' Rickon thinks, with no small hint of malice. After all, Rickon knows exactly who whispered to the Kingsguard that he and Rhaenys were trying to escape in the night, all those years ago. 'Before she was exiled, before she was ripped away from me.' However, the rotund man is the first to vocalize support for the proposal, so Rickon decides to temporarily ignore their past and the hidden meaning behind the robed man's contemplative stare.

Lord Alliser Thorne – the Master of Laws, who always seems more interested in training recruits than discussing politics – deems the entire time spent discussing Rickon's proposal a waste. He urges the Hand to let the matter to be voted on quickly, so that they can return to discussing more important matters. Namely, the training of the City Watch recruits.

Speaking of the Hand, Rickon is unfortunately well familiar with Jon Connington. Their relationship has been one riddled with distaste covered in niceties. How could Rickon not hate him? Here stands one of the only fools in the entire Realm who disliked Rhae.

("He disliked my mother," Rhae says quietly. "So when she passed, I inherited his ire."

"But why?" Four year old Rickon asks, bewildered. "How could anyone dislike you? You're amazing. Or even your mother, when the stories say she was wonderful."

Rhae smiles sadly. "Jealousy can easily make a monster from a good man."

Rickon frowns. "He dislikes you for your mother, but then why does he dislike me? Did he dislike the Second Queen too?"

His sister frowns at his address of his birthmother, but she has long since stopped trying to encourage Rickon to call Lyanna mother. One could only beat a dead horse for so long, after all. "I suppose he disliked Lyanna as well," she concedes.)

Rhae hadn't elaborated at the time, but now that Rickon is older, he understands well enough. The King hates him, and Jon Connington will never go against the King's will. So, he knows that Connington doesn't like him, but he also knows that the veteran is considered fair and amenable to sound reasoning. And, making use of his sister's lessons, Rickon is certain to propose his plan in a manner than ensures a certain… implication.

"Of course, I ran the idea by some of the smallfolk, and even some nobles, to get their input. They all readily agreed that it was an important priority to them."

'Deny me, and you deny them. If I leave here unsatisfied, they'll know who refused them, and they'll let the others know too.'

.x.

Tyrion Lannister finally arrives at the capital a few days after his summons, and about a moon's turn after Prince Jon's nameday tourney. To the Lannister's utmost surprise, his summoner greats him in person at the port.

Tyrion smirks to cover his nerves, as he leaves the ship and approaches the young royal. "I hear you've got shitty streets, Your Grace."

The lion's words are a bit of a test. Prince Rickon doesn't seem flustered or insulted. Rather, the tall boy (is he really only three and ten?) smirks back. "I hear you have incomparable experience in dealing with shit, My Lord."

Tyrion suspects he will grow to like the young prince, despite his family name.

Rickon nods his head towards the direction of Flea Bottom. "Well, if you're not too tired from your journey, let's walk through the streets. You'll soon become familiar with them, I'm sure. We can grab some food as I introduce you to some of the men you'll be working with."

Tyrion raises a brow, prompting further explanation.

Rickon's cheeks flush as he elaborates. "Well, there are many men down there capable of labouring and in need for work. I figured we might as well hire them?"

Tyrion nods approvingly. "Well thought out, Your Grace."

Rickon shrugs. "Please feel free to call me Rickon."

"Well, alright. But, you can only call me Tyrion once you buy me a drink."

Rickon laughs. "We'll be meeting up with Gendry and Old Man Osim first. Gendry's a bit of a grump, and Old Man Osim's more than a bit of a grump. But you'll never find a better smith than Master Mott, and Gendry's his apprentice, a great smith, and an even better friend. A right pessimist at times, but pretty fluffy underneath all the scowling. Old Man Osim on the other hand, well, he's a right scheming bastard at times. But you kind of have to be to work on the street of lumber. They'll get you oriented with the crew we recruited, over a pint at the Lattice, if Easel's in a good enough mood to actually let us in, that is."

'Dammit,' bemoans Tyrion. 'I like him already.'

.x.

Rickon's smile is strained. "Tyrion, you've written up the final plans in less than a week. I'm not sure if that is a testament to your genius, or a testament to my poor hospitality. Are you that eager to leave King's Landing?"

Tyrion pats the lad's arm to dispel some of the tension. "Don't worry Rickon... your city's whores are much too high caliber for me to make haste with my departure."

Rickon's shoulders unwind at his jesting, and his curly topped-head shakes in amused disbelief. "Oh, good. So you'll stay until its completion?"

Tyrion nods. "Of course, I always intended to see the final product. And who knows, we might encounter issues that need solving. And Seven knows that prickly old bastard Osim won't be a lick of help solving problems."

.x.

"I've heard you like reading books."

Tyrion nods, taking another generous swig of his ale. "Yes, and I've heard you like swinging swords."

Rickon huffs out a laugh. "Well tell me then, what are the tomes that are worth my time, and which are the ones that aren't worth the parchment?"

Tyrion gets through a whole list of them, before they are interrupted by Gendry. The muscly lad approaches their table, asking for Rickon to come to the shop.

"Just a few questions regarding that side project you commissioned a few weeks ago," When Gendry sees Tyrion, he swiftly tags on a "Your Grace," much to Rickon's apparent exasperation.

Rickon grins, eyes teasing as he stands from the table and tosses a few coins beside his empty plate. "Oh, well. Look at that. Tyrion, I guess you'll just have to check in with Osim's team by yourself this afternoon."

"Oh, joyous day." Tyrion deadpans, before finishing his tankard and hailing over Easel for another.

.x.

Tyrion doesn't much like to judge people by their birth. But he was raised under the brutal regime of Tywin Lannister. As a consequence, Tyrion is vigilant, prone to paranoia, and plainly speaking, not stupid. Something is… strange about Rickon Targaryen. Despite the fact that Tyrion has been offered chambers in the Red Keep, the youngest Lannister isn't dim enough to go anywhere near the King or other princes, including for meals. After all, Tyrion is brother-in-law to the Baratheons, and so hopes to avoid branding-happy Rhaegar and his poison-eyed heir for the entirety of his stay.

In truth, Tyrion had been planning on avoiding all Targaryens. The plan was foiled quite unexpectedly when he docked on the shores of the Crownlands to find an amiable Rickon. Initially, when the youngest dragon accompanies Tyrion to the local taverns and the Keep's kitchens for meals, the Lannister assumes it is the boy trying to be a proper host. And then he offhandedly mentions the boys' seemingly odd behaviour to one of the Keep's kitchen wenches. She looks at him oddly. "Oh, well, Prince Rickon always eats in the kitchens when he's in the Keep, m'Lord."

The comment incurs Tyrion's interest. Why wouldn't a prince take his meals in the dining hall with his family?

At the brothels, he asks and learns more.

"I hear the King and the other princes hate him. Shame, too. I think he be the best of that lot. Well, other than the late Queen Elia, bless her soul. But I hear even the Queen's daughter favoured the Good Prince before she was sent away." The whore says, while lounging placidly on the bed.

"She went to visit her family, I thought?" Tyrion plays incorrect intentionally. In truth, he heard the nobles at the Keep whispering of how Rhaenys had been betrothed to Robb Stark, heir to the North. And so, Tyrion assumed Princess Rhaenys being shipped to Dorne was a way to soothe the southern kingdom after selling Elia Martell's beloved only daughter to Lyanna Stark's nephew.

The whore smirks knowingly instead of responding, and Tyrion sighs before grabbing some more coin from his pants. She grabs then shakes the small pouch eagerly, smiling at its weight. Then she lowers her voice further. "A Keep guard told me the pretty girl wore an ugly bruise that covered half her face. He said that when she left the courtyard, the King didn't come to see her off. Little Prince didn't either, but he also wasn't seen outside the castle for weeks after. Poor thing was probably grieving her. The Sweet Princess all but raised him, after all." The whore's eyes narrow. "It wasn't no visit, no matter how much you nobles try to honey the words. The girl did something to piss off the King, and he punished her for it by exiling her. No one knows what she did though. Just that it must have been properly bad if he was willing to send her damaged to the Viper." She shivers, and Tyrion understands. Oberyn Martell is hardly famous for his forgiveness.

After the Keep servants, nobles, and city whores, Tyrion waltzes through the streets and learns even more.

"The Blessed Prince, he feeds the orphans, y'know? Brings 'em bags of bread and even fruits to the orphanage when he visits."

"He's the Sword of Morning's apprentice, didn't you know? I wan'na be a knight skilled just like Prince Rickon when I'm grown."

"The Good Prince, he started the clinic. Did you know, I heard he even uses his own money, since the greedy shits on the council didn't give him none. He even had his own personal Maester be the first to work there, until the Citadel started sending some of their trainees. My youngest daughter had a foul sickness last year, and she lives because of that clinic, because of Prince Rickon."

Tyrion even visits the hobble shops along the docks, and talks to an especially enamoured red-haired boy who gladly extols the virtues of the youngest prince, continuing to do so even as Tyrion tries to walk away. "He's a hero. He saved my Pa's life. Everybody loves him."

.x.

"I think we should build a stage."

Tyrion does a double take at the Prince's random suggestion, ignoring his mead and mutton. "Excuse me?"

"We've some extra lumber, do we not?" Rickon says, shrugging from his seat across from Tyrion. "It would be nice. For the smallfolk to have a stage to host their plays and their fools, their music and their dances; or even just to serve as a fancy and overly large stool for announcements."

Tyrion hums, taps his bowl of Lattice Lentils with his wooden spoon. The idea has merit.

Rickon smirks. "We'll name it after you, if that'll bolster the offer. Perhaps Lion's Scaffold… or Tyrion's Dais..." Rickon smirks before continuing, eyes gleaming in mischief. "Or maybe even the Demon's stool?"

"Now, now, let's not be imprecise. Demon Monkey's Stool, now that rings a little more familiar, a fair deal more memorable too."

It's quiet for a breath, before both of them descend into easy laughter. When it peters out, Rickon gives him a supportive look. "They know you now, Tyrion. They've seen your efforts because you've walked these streets and worked alongside them. I've made no secret of your leadership in this project. When they talk of you know, it'll be in thanks. These people, they remember those who help them. And they return that care and respect in kind."

.x.

And then there is Samwell Tarly, who wobbles as he quickly approaches Tyrion with a trunk load of books.

"For Lady Shireen Barahteon, My Lord." He huffs out. "She requested them."

The boy is bumbling and harmless, but a boy nonetheless. Tyrion's smile is a sharp thing. "I wasn't aware you were acquainted with my niece."

The Tarly boy blushes and stutters, racing through his explanation. "We m-met during Prince Jon's nameday tourney. She has a great mind. Truly. She asked after these books at the time. And I heard you mean to stop by Storm's End on your way to Casterly Rock, so I hoped you would be amenable to delivering them to her, My Lord."

Tyrion looks at the small but heavy trunk and raises a suspicious brow. "Are these from the Red Keep's Library? I do believe there's a royal warrant needed to excuse these from their proper place."

"It's been taken care of, My Lord." The largely girthed boy opens the trunk, showing the ostensibly innocuous contents to Tyrion. "Did you want me to lock it, My Lord, or keep it open for you to peruse during your trip?" Tyrion skims the titles, not seeing anything he hasn't read before, and honestly seeing nothing worth reading again. He really will need to have a strongly worded discussion with Shireen when he returns. Clearly his absence has dulled her appreciation for good literature. He nods dismissively, letting Tarly lock the trunk.

Randyll Tarly's son doesn't leave, and Tyrion lets out an aggrieved and impatient sigh. "Is there some other matter?"

Almost regretfully, Sam hands Tyrion a letter. Open, of course. Tyrion skims the short message quickly.

"To the Lady Shireen Baratheon,

As promised.

Sincerely,

Lord Samwell Tarly,

Maester in Training."

"Lad, some advice. Work on your script. I've seen stable boys with neater print than yours."

Samwell nods nervously, and Tyrion just sighs before pocketing the parchment and shooing the almost-Maester away. Tyrion is scheduled to depart within an hour, so doesn't have the time to investigate this inconveniently timed incident further.

(Too bad. If he did, he might have realized that every book in that trunk matched the titles he told Rickon Targaryen to be wasted ink, and he would have learned that every book was currently signed out under the Prince's name. If he did, he'd ponder over the harsh edges to the Tarly boy's script. It's an oversight he will recognize many years later, too late for it to matter.)

.x.

As Tyrion leaves King's Landing, he looks onto the shrinking form of the Red Keep and he reflects. Despite his sleuthing efforts, Rickon Targaryen is still a conundrum. The youngest royal seemed too eager to endear himself to Tyrion, but Tyrion can't put his finger on why.

Of course, years later, he will have his answer. And it will be loudly punctuated by Renly Baratheon storming into Casterly Rock, slamming doors and frothing at the mouth, hissing about a Targaryen Prince ruining their niece.

And later still, Tyrion will remember his inadvertent contributions, when he hears of a Targaryen Prince using the very stage he built to set his beloved niece ablaze in the streets.

Do you understand, sweetling?

He'll burn you alive.

End of Chapter 2

"And everything that's happened… all this horror that's come... it's all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

If you're enjoying this fic and want to see more chapters, PLEASE REVIEW and let me know! What did you like, what did you hat, what do you want to see? Below are is the PREVIEW for the next chapter, followed by QUESTIONS FOR READERS and RESPONSES TO REVIEWERS!

QUESTIONS for the peanut gallery:

QUESTION ONE: Who you guys rather have a Bran POV or a Robb POV? Also, a Ned POV or a Cat POV?

QUESTION TWO: Does anyone know who is the female actress playing Marlene in this youtube video is? /watch?v=HQ0xqYHG-X0

QUESTION THREE: Oh my dear goodness, but WHO IS THIS ACTOR?! I love him as future Rickon, and have mentally casted him as such (Just with the Stark look)

66 [period] media [period] tumblr [period] com /ea19861879c3fd27ae5fcd2c36e8e937/ tumblr_ovczgmUIEe1vuxqn3o1_500 [period] gif

QUESTION FOUR: How do you think Catelyn should receive Rhaenys, a princess so politically the strongest match for her son, but still the daughter of the man who beheaded her father?

QUESTION FIVE: Let's be real. Tywin is hardly okay with the Reparations. What do YOU guys suspect he's plotting? ;)

Responses to Reviewers

Felon GT - Hopefully this answered your question about Cersei! I was intentionally vague in the last chapter. She isn't dead in the literal sense, but Shireen has essentially been motherless since Cersei's been mostly unconscious since delivering Tommen. How did you like Shireen's POV on her?

pokemonrot377 & Guest - No, Rhaegar did not actually rape Rhaenys, but he essentially threatened to from her POV. You'll see his POV regarding 'making Rhaenys his Queen' in one of the upcoming chapters ;)

EvilBananaPOP & carlys. love- thank you so much for your kind words! Arya and Jon and Gendry are coming up soon, hopefully! How do you think Arya and Gendry will end up meeting in this story? I'll give you a hint – somehow, they still end up on the run ;) You'll hopefully be seeing some of Gendrya in the next chapter!

Guest - Oh I am SO SO SO glad you brought up Baelish. His fate is coming up! What do YOU think happened? ;) And we'll be seeing some of Jaime and Tywin soon! Hopefully in the next chapter if I can fit them in!

Guest - I'm so happy you liked the bit with Cersei's realization! I've always thought that a sane Cersei and Tyrion would be a formidable team. How did you like Tyrion's POV? also Darry's POV is coming, but probably not until two chapters from now!

green - Thank you! Unfortunately, I can't give away all my answers. But hopefully you got some of them with this chapter! What are some of the questions you have?

kurotenshi-08 - thanks! I tried to give you some more CerseixStannis and Rickon and Rhaenys, what do you think? :)

Mari Wollsch - Thank you! What part did you like the best?

Lightningscar - thanks for your opinion re: their ages and capitalizations. I've tried to insert them more in the dialogue, and I'm shoving the timeline to the beginning of the chapters. Hopefully you enjoyed the callbacks to FleaBottom :) Good point regarding fighting prowess. I don't typically write fight scenes, but I can definitely see how I should have considered that earlier! I'll definitely try to be more explicit about that in upcoming chatpers! And don't worry, we're not done with Arthur and Lewyn yet ;) Hopefully you enjoyed Rickon and Shireen! To be honest, I really enjoyed Rickeen fics where Renly was a true uncle to Shireen, and I figured Tyrion would treat her much the same way he treated Myrcella and Tommen in cannon. Did you like Renly and Tyrion's friendly little one-uping? I wanted to explore their dyanmic more as 'the younger brothers' but I figured this chapter was already late enough LOL. I know Jon seems like such a shirt, but his POV is coming and the way he treats Rickon WILL be explained. I'm trying not to make his motives too obvious because that'll ruin the fun. But I put a hint in one of his previous interactions with Rickon ;) Thank you for such a thorough and helpful review. I love reading reviews with so much feedback, it really helps me grow as a writer and it's such a heartwarming thing to know someone cares enough to spend the time writing such a detailed review!

JohnL117 - Thank you! The Vale has their own plot in the works, don't worry ;) Much like the Martells in cannon, they've got plans. They just weren't in a position of power at the time of Jon's execution to act on them at the time (i.e. they had just lost the war, and needed time to regroup and let their enemy forget about them as a threat). What do you think the Vale's plotting? ;) I promise, Jon's upcoming POV will answer questions! I'm just trying to figure out where to slot it in!

Preview

(flashes of upcoming chapters)

As a misplaced aside: Chapters 2 a,b,c, and d were initially planned out as one chapter. Can you believe it? Like I literally have no self-control when it comes to managing my writing.

…

So when Jon Connington approaches Rhaegar, claiming that Ned Stark has agreed to take on Rickon as a ward in the North, and drones on about how it would ease Rhaenys's transition, soothe northern tensions that still rang high, etcetera, all Rhaegar hears is that Rickon will finally be gone.

So he agrees without hesitation.

If he paid more attention to his Hand's concern instead of his prophecies and his ghosts, perhaps the King would have registered the part where Jon suspected that Rickon was becoming more beloved than Aegon even amongst the nobles.

…

Jaime wonders if his foolish wife realizes she whispers another man's name in her sleep.

…

There was something about her interaction with Rickon that had humanized this fabled girl. Had allowed Robb to see a tender, vulnerable part of her. And had spurred a longing to have her warm affection directed towards himself. And, by the Old Gods and New, she was the most beautiful woman Robb had ever seen.

…

"Lord Sam and I taught you your histories well, Rickon. Surely you remember Orys and Argella?

Rickon freezes. "This is different, Rhae." He whispers. "Shireen is…..

….I know a part of you already belongs to her. But remember her loyalties, Rickon." Remember yours.

…

~ If Lord Tywin was searching for an excuse to be rid of you, you've surely served him that.

~ Jaime adores Shireen, because she is the last piece of Cersei he has left…It is why he keeps her secret.

~ Robb recoils. "I'd never hurt you." / Rhaenys smiles bitterly. "I wonder if the King made pretty promises like yours to my mother when they were betrothed too."

~ First, Rhaeny learns how to weaponize Elia face. Second, Rhaenys learns how to weaponize Rhaella's body… "Are you drunk?" / "Not so much that I don't know what I want."/ "And what is it that you want, my Lord?" She eyes him warily. "A kiss. Just one. From the beautiful girl who'll be mine forever."

~His face is shocked, in disbelief and betrayal, even anger. Rhaenys feels her heart race viciously as she understands the repercussions of her stupidity. He is all she has to protect herself and her brother from the current King, and she has just jeopardized it all… Her gut twists… fearing what he will demand as payment for his protection…

… Don't be naive... Do you think Princess's are spared from their husband's anger?

~Bran appears hesitant to broach his topic… "Lady Shireen is already at the Reach…. she would be an appropriate bride to consider." … If this is truly something you want Bran, then I will write to Stannis.

...

Ser Brynden scowls. "This could end in war, Bran!"

"It was always going to come to war, uncle. I just put our families on the right side of it."

Brynden sighs deeply, and for once the lines on his face appear deep, and the fabled Blackfish looks his age. "There is no such thing as the right side of war, Brandon."

Bran pauses before responding. "There is a side that bleeds less. And this time, it will be ours."

...

~ Catelyn sighs wearily. "And here I never thought I'd be grateful for Arya's willful nature." The Lady of Winterfell lets out a tired, almost derisive laugh. "But here I stand corrected, thanking the Gods for it…

~ Tell me, does it give you some sort of sick thrill to warm the bed of the family responsible for destroying yours?

~ I know a threat when I see one, Lord Varys. What it is that you want…

~ "Is lying so easy for you now, sweet niece?"

~ "Lady Baratheon, where is your crown?" A sinister voice drawls from behind her. Shireen's blood chills.

~ "The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that." ~ Jeor Mormont

Review, pretty please :-)

(It'll encourage me to post faster and makes me smile :D )