A/N: Hey everyone.
May each of you have a blessed Easter Sunday in this time of tumult and danger. Stay safe everyone.
Enjoy and please comment :D
Chapter 28: Acclamation
"Open the gates!"
A fine mist frothing around his mouth and nostrils, Ned Stark felt absolutely invigorated. The cold enveloped him like icy knives stabbing through even his thick fur cloak and he absolutely loved it. Gods, nothing's better than a sunny winter's day in the North!
At the massive ironwood gates of Winterfell castle swung open, Ned could think of something far better. Sure it was plain, nothing like the inspired architecture of the southern castles - but Winterfell was home. Sturdy build to keep out the wind and connected to the hot springs of the Godswood. It felt so good to be back after so many years in the Vale.
"I ought to tell yeh', I miss them southern beds," commented Rodrik Cassel to Ned's right. Current commander of the household guard now that Martyn stayed with Lord Rickard. "Them mattresses were soft as a fine lass."
Ned chuckled. "Aye, they were. Perhaps I can write to my sister to ship us some." Cassel grinned.
Preceded by a troop of cavalry carrying fluttering Stark banners, the acting Lord of Winterfell led the train of men, wagons, and wheelhouses into the courtyard of the great castle. Hooves and wheels kicking up clods of snow while the ever curious inhabitants of Wintertown watched. All eager to see their future Lady's arrival. If only Cersei could be here… Ned shook away the thought. Best not torture yourself.
Luckily, Ned didn't have to dwell on what left him brooding on the entire boat ride to White Harbor. Standing at the van of the Stark household was a familiar face. Face lean, beard stubbly… his younger brother had grown like a weed since Ned was last here. From a boy to a man… soon to be a knight of the realm. Guiding his horse into the courtyard, Ned dismounted quickly. Sword jostling from his belt as he walked over to his brother. "Benjen. You've gotten hairy," he said flatly.
Benjen answered with a frown. "Hopefully it's not as ugly as you display it."
A moment passed before Ned snorted, lips curling into a smirk… then a full belly laugh that roped in the six-and-ten Stark brother. The two of them embraced, watched with joy by the household staff. "It's been too damn long, brother."
"We were starting to think you preferred the Eyrie to Winterfell. Maybe met a pretty girl." Pulling back, Benjen clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't tell me ya' left one there?"
His comment hit close to home. No, in the Westerlands… alas, to never be mine. Benjen seemed to take his frown as just his brooding self, so he went with it. "No, you do not have to worry. I did not leave a lady love in the Vale." One hundred percent the truth.
"Well then, glad for ya' to be back where the action's at. Nan whipped up your favorite kidney pie." Just the thought of it made Ned's mouth water.
But duty called, however. Surrounding the first wheelhouse were four men wearing cloaks bearing the trout of House Tully, one having dismounted his horse and opening the door. Quickly, Ned rushed over just in time to take the hand of Lady Catelyn Tully, Brandon's betrothed and his charge. "My Lady, welcome to Winterfell."
Wrapped in an intricately styled wool coat interwoven with wavy blue lines, Catelyn's sparkling blue eyes took in her new home. "I can see, Lord Stark. Very… plain." Her voice wasn't particularly loud, though undoubtedly some of the servants heard it. "The snow is very beautiful, though."
"Thank you, Lady Tully. It does add a rather pleasing aesthetic." Not wanting to delve further, he guided the beautiful trout to where Benjen and Maester Luwin stood. "My Lady, I'd like to introduce you to Maester Luwin and my dear younger brother Benjen."
Catelyn prefuncterly greeted Luwin, but she paid special attention to Benjen. "So you're the Kingsguard my Bran talked about?" she said with interest.
"I won't be getting my cloak just yet," Benjen replied with a false modesty. Ned could tell he was inwardly jumping with excitement. At Catelyn's outstretched hand, Benjen laughed. "No need for that, we're family." He pulled her hand until she was in his arms.
"Oh…" While returning the embrace, both Ned and Luwin could see the awkwardness. A woman clearly not used to the North's more… informal ways.
As they pulled apart, Benjen noticed her teeth chattering. "Cold, goodsister?"
Whatever her failings, Catelyn was noble enough to not complain. "Perhaps a little."
A stern-faced woman in septa's gowns was not. "Shouldn't spring have come already?" she whined, causing eye rolls among the household. Benjen glanced at Ned, eyebrow raised. A septa, here? Ned could only shrug.
"Actually," Luwin chimed in. "The Citadel sent the ravens a week ago. Spring was false this time, unfortunately."
The septa was not amused. "By the Seven, another day in this icehouse…"
"Calm down, Septa Mordane, it's alright." Catelyn quieted her down, much to Ned's gratitude. "Bran told me that the castle is built on a hot springs."
Ned relaxed. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Alright, everyone is dismissed," he called out, servants and guards starting to spread out but with many still nosy.
One trotted forward ponderously - a massive man with a thick waist. "Hodor," he grunted.
Catelyn yelped, eyes wide. "What in gods' names are you?" she exclaimed, slightly frightened.
"Oh, this is Hodor," Benjen giggled. "He's harmless, right mate?"
"Hodor," the gentle giant beamed. "Ho-dor… hodor." He pointed to the wheelhouse and wagons.
"Yes, Hodor, the baggage." As he trotted off, Ned turned to the still shaken Catelyn. "He does all the heavy lifting around here."
Pursing her lips, Catelyn nodded. "Alright, but keep that, that… thing away from me."
Ned blinked. "But my Lady, Hodor is harmless…"
"I won't have an addled brute so close that he could hurt me.." At that moment, the impression of the household staff - and Benjen - was set about their future Lady. Such ignorant words about a beloved member of their community… unforgivable.
Sighing, Ned admitted defeat. "Alright, my Lady." It was good for her that she had a dozen servants from Riverrun with her. "Luwin will show you to your chambers."
"You'll be sleeping in Lord Brandon's chamber till he arrives." Catelyn's face lit up at that.
With Lady Catelyn and her retinue stomping through the half-ankle deep snow - nothing to a northerner but obviously a hardship to them - Ned felt Benjen sidle up beside him. "Well that was… awkward."
Ned snorted. "White Harbor seemed to please her enough, so some weeks should find her a proper Lady of Winterfell." Who are you kidding? She's gonna be awful. The inner voice sounded a lot like Cersei…
"She brought a fucking septa, Ned. I wouldn't count on it." The two of them began walking towards the keep. "What did Bran see in her? His letters spoke as if she was Jonquil to his Florian… the most recent Jonquil, rather." Benjen chuckled at his own jape.
There was little to gain by piling insults upon his soon to be goodsister, so Ned refused to. "Whatever her flaws, the most important thing is that she's enamored with Bran. Desperately so, only behind how Lya and the Prince see each other."
A raised brow. "Oh? I wish I could have seen that. A man actually tying down our wild sister." Now that Benjen put it that way, it did come off as both absurd and miraculous.
"You'll see it soon enough. Day after tomorrow, you ride for White Harbor."
He grinned. "Next time you'll see me, I'll be wearing white. Jealous?"
The Northerners didn't accept the Andal concept of knighthood, but Ned would be a damned liar if they all didn't grow up in the shadow of Aemon the Dragonknight or Robb Reyne. "Would you believe me if I said no?"
Benjen shook his head, always the little tag along to Lyanna. "The Quiet Wolf is gonna be the alpha here for a while. Keeping the North put together and the Lady Trout out of trouble. You up to it?"
His question killed Ned's jovial mood. Exhaling the sigh of a man with the weight of an entire realm on his back - without the touch of the woman he so loved to comfort him - Ned turned to Benjen with suddenly haggard eyes. "It's more than that, brother." The younger Stark furrowed his brows in confusion. "Come to father's solar." He wrapped an arm around Benjen's shoulder. "We have much to discuss."
Scowling, Lyanna looked directly at the castilian. "This is unacceptable. Twice Lord Guncer has delayed his tax payments and now he asks for a third?"
The man scribbled on his large ledger. "My records say he has had three delays and this is his fourth… your Grace."
"Well that's even worse!" She walked down the corridors of the great keep, Lyanna having woken early to both escort Rhaenys to the kitchens and see to the household - handling much of the administrative work that the Lordship of Dragonstone supervised. If I am to be one of Rhaegar's Queens, I must learn. "Ser Barristan, how quickly can a boat reach Sweetport Sound?"
"About eighteen hours, Princess."
Lyanna nodded. "Good, see to it that two dozen household guards are sent to Lord Sunglass' keep with haste." She turned to the castilian. "Get a raven to him, and say that he can have the coin due Dragonstone is prepared to deliver by the time the boat arrives or his heirs shall ransom him from our dungeons."
The man bowed. "At once, Princess." He darted off.
"That includes you, dear knight," Lyanna gently told Barristan.
"But your Grace, the Prince has instructed me to be by your side all hours of the day."
"I'll be fine," she laughed at Rhaegar's protectiveness. "Send the raven, Ser Barristan. Don't make me command you." Her tone was light.
He bowed, smiling himself. "At your command, Princess."
As Barristan walked off, Dacey turned to her. "You're settling well into your role, Lya."
Lyanna sighed. "Aye…" She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her head throb. "It's times like these I miss sleeping with Rhaegar beside me." The nights where she wasn't in their chambers, sleep came sparingly. I can't sleep without his warm body holding me close.
"I warned you about marrying a married Targaryen Prince," Dacey chided as they continued walking.
"No you didn't," the she-wolf shot back. "You were begging me for details of how he looked shirtless."
Dacey pursed her lips. "That doesn't sound like me." Lyanna merely rolled her eyes. Her lady in waiting decided to change the subject, ponytail bouncing up and down as she walked. "You were a bit hard on the castilian."
Grumbling left Lyanna's lips. "That fool doesn't know his ass from his elbow."
"Are the Sunglass tax monies really so important?"
"Given what we are planning, yes." Dacey merely nodding. With the efforts already at full strid, Lyanna's first request was for all taxes to be paid in full. Velaryon, Celtigar, Massey… they all paid promptly. Only Sunglass stood to bullshit them. "Many a mind can be turned once the smell of gold hits their nose."
"Very true, Lya." They turned a corner and reached the solar. Ser Arthur stood guard… and Lyanna noticed a very slight smirk cross Dacey's face. "Will you be needing anything else, your Grace?"
Lyanna's gaze flickered back to Ser Arthur, the a tiny bead of sweat falling down the cheek of the normally stoic knight. "Just see that the kitchens are ready for tomorrow. Lord Celtigar is due to arrive and we want to impress him."
Dacey read the subtext, and was dutifully impressed on how Lyanna was simply taking over. "Of course, your Grace." Curtseying, the she-bear fluidly brushed her ponytail across her shoulder. Winking at Ser Arthur before leaving.
Biting back a giggle, Lyanna approached the door. "Ser Arthur."
He bowed. "Princess." The word was a croak. You can't hide it Arthur. "His Grace and the Princess Elia are waiting for you."
"Thank you." She quirked an eyebrow. "A problem, Arthur?"
The Sword of the Morning shook his head. "No, your Grace, why?"
"No reason." Gods, can't you just give in already? "I hope you will be available for our sparring lesson after lunch." She and Rhaegar always ended up dropping everything to make love… not that Lyanna complained, but that wouldn't make her a better fighter.
Arthur nodded. "I am at your command."
Smiling, she opened the door and breezed into the solar. Eager to see her husband for the first time that day. To finally be in his arms… "My Prince…"
She found Rhaegar adjusting the buttons on his doublet while Elia smoothed out her dress, hair disheveled and face flush. "Ah, sister. You're early," she said a bit too cheerily - though genuinely happy to see her.
Lyanna only chuckled. "It's amazing how much faster the staff works if you give the lazy ones a kick in the rear." Truth be told, how randy the two of them were in recent weeks only delighted her. A truly united, happy family as the conqueror and his wives were. Embracing and kissing Elia's cheek, after a moment she raced to Rhaegar and threw a passionate kiss upon his lips.
Melting into the kiss, Rhaegar held her tightly just as she adored. "Good morning, my Queen."
Shivering all over at how he called her that, Lyanna kissed him again. "Morning, my King." Pulling back, there was a queer look in Elia's eyes… one she couldn't place. "Sister?" Elia visibly shook it off, smiling warmly and motioning for the both of them to sit. "So, what did we need to all discuss?"
"Connington sent a raven from the capitol." Rhaegar sighed deeply, returning to his brooding. He was the most affected by their plans, considering he was going against his own father. Wordlessly, Lyanna rose and snaked behind Rhaegar, massaging his tense shoulders. "Ohhhh, that feels wonderful, my wolf."
"You deserve a little comfort, my Prince," she cooed serenely, catching just a flicker of that look in Elia's eyes before it disappeared. "What did the raven say?"
Rhaegar grunted under her soft yet powerful hands. Combining with the vigorous lovemaking he had with Elia to finally ease his stress. "He worded it in unassuming language, but I got the gist. He's trying to assemble a grouping of Lords and Knights to assist in keeping order in the capitol when the… event takes place."
Elia raised an eyebrow. "Do we know who they are?"
"He says that it's best for security if we don't."
Both women eyed each other with suspicion at this. "Can we be sure to trust who he picks?"
The Prince frowned. "I don't see why not. He's my closest friend."
"We all know how he feels about you, my love," Lyanna stated, working at a particularly knotted part of muscle. "And he doesn't appreciate Elia nor I for it."
"So I'm not a lover of men as he is." It still upset Rhaegar that their friendship could be frayed by this, but Connington was not a man who would betray those he cared for. "He will be supremely loyal to me, I assure you." Neither woman was so sure, but they let it go. "Now, I think we need to formulate who would be willing to support us… ah, thank you, Lya." Kissing his head, Lyanna resumed her seat.
An hour later, they were still pouring over various names. "So Lord Celtigar at the feast?" Elia inquired.
Rhaegar nodded. "Aye, he hates my father for booting him off the small council but favors me after I took his heir Adrian as a squire."
"The Velaryons would be a worthy ally, but Lucerys is an Aerys loyalist," Lyanna proclaimed. "For the Vale… Ned told me about Lord Royce. He's honorable."
"I'll consult with Lord Jon forthwith, but it'll be his decision whether to approach." So far they gleaned most of the Seven Kingdoms. The three of them had whittled it down to Lord Blackwood, Lord Dayne, Lord Yronwood - Arthur's uncle - Lord Celtigar, Lord Whent, Jeor Mormont, and Howland. Enough to secure broad support. "Now that leaves the Westerlands."
Elia decided to broach the dragon in the room. "We need to discuss approaching Tywin."
The Prince frowned. "Out of the Question."
The Dornish Princess matched his frown. "And why ever not, my Prince?" Her voice was sweet, but bitingly so. Her inner viper was emerging more and more, and Lyanna found it… quite pleasing.
"Because I witnessed my father cut out the tongue of one of Tywin's men for a tiny jape. I can't be sure of his loyalties - the time to approach him is after the deed is done."
"Lya talked to him personally, perhaps she can shed some light on this." Both her spouses cast an eye to her, expectant.
Thinking for a moment, Lyanna looked at both. "He seemed… prying. I think he's unsure of what side to take."
"He'll potentially take a third direction, overthrow House Targaryen and install either himself or a puppet." Rhaegar's violet eyes blazed, angered at the thought. "We can't take that chance." Both women conceded he had a good point. "All that's left is the Stormlands."
"Connington only," Lyanna said immediately. "Maybe Selmy if Ser Barristan can finesse it." Of this, she was adamant. Robert may have fooled Bran and Ned into thinking he changed, but he hasn't. Lyanna wouldn't trust the Stormlands if Rhaegar had ten dragons and a million men at his back.
Boots clicking against the stone floor, Stannis Baratheon brushed away the water from his dark brown hair. He should have seen the damned rainstorm coming, but like a moron he accepted the lout Meryn Trant's challenge to a spar. And of course Trant had to insist on fighting dirty, forcing Stannis to teach him a lesson…
Of course the keep built by Durran Godsgrief would end up getting pelted by the damn rain. Luckily he managed to dart out before more than his hair became waterlogged - Trant wasn't so lucky, Stannis leaving him groaning on the ground. It was funny to the entire crowd, and Stannis would have smirked if he ever smirked. And all he could think about now was the letter delivered to him.
The letter that would need him to search out both his brothers.
Arriving at the Lord's chambers, he brusquely knocked on it. "Robert." Nothing. "Robert, I know you're in there. You sleep till apex anyways." At the slight giggling of a female followed by a male chuckle, Stannis groaned and pushed open the door anyways.
As he figured, there was Robert's bare ass, bobbing up and down while thrusting into the cunt of a moaning young woman… at least Stannis figured she was young based on her slim legs wrapped around his brother's torso. Gods… is this the third woman he's bedded? Wincing when Robert grunted his release, Stannis missed his parents' honor not for the first time. "Robert!"
The woman screamed at the interruption, while Robert snarled. Scrambling off to glare at his brother. "What is it, Stannis? Did ya' come 'ere to finally learn how to please a woman?"
Unfortunately for the eight and ten second son, the pretty young maiden had covered herself in the sheet while he could see all of Robert's cock. "Is that Delena Florent?"
Robert grinned. "You could have her now, though she's got a warm cunt. It'll melt yer cock of ice." That greatly amused the Lord of Storm's End, laughing uproariously.
Stannis sighed. "We received a letter from Casterly Rock." That shut him up. "Please put on some clothes while I wait outside."
Longer than he would have liked - and with more noise inside than he would have felt comfortable with - Stannis was greeted by Robert as he let a tunic slip over his bare torso. "Gods, brother, you have no sense of humor."
"I'll have a sense of humor when you have propriety." The two of them began walking to the solar. "I'll give you the maids and smallfolk girls, but a Lady of a noble house?"
"Oh please, you're about to marry that uptight bitch cousin of hers." Stannis said nothing. "Oh, you said no? Looks like I won't be seeing Delena for a while." He roared with laughter. "Buck up, ice cunt." Robert slapped him on the back. "You worry too fucking much."
Two household guards parted to let them in the solar, revealing a thin, finely-dressed boy rifling through Stannis' desk. "Renly!" Stannis barked. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Immaculate to the point of effeminacy, anyone who bothered to know about Renly Baratheon knew why… Robert shouted it constantly to anyone who'd hear. "I heard we received a letter from Casterly Rock. Wanted to see what it was about… so I could help advise our Lord brother, of course."
It wasn't the first time Stannis caught Renly snooping. The boy had taken their parents' death hard - they all took it hard, Robert's whoring intensifying and whatever warmth in Stannis dying out, but Renly's change was the most glaring - and he had grown both bitterness and a low cunning as a result. "I have it here." Stannis pulled it out of his breast pocket, Renly glowering while Robert laughed. "Mind if I read?"
"Go ahead." Robert plopped in a plush chair, resting his feet on an expensive footstool. "Will probably be boring as fuck anyway."
Lord Baratheon,
I am heartened to hear that the Stormlands have seen their Lord Paramount return permanently for the first time since your father departed from the earth. A lack of leadership is never advisable.
"That shit," Renly hissed, interrupting his brother. "Insults both Robert and our mother and father in the same line…"
"Shut it!" Robert bellowed, cutting off Renly. "I'm trying to listen, so pipe down before I make you the girl you want to be!"
Clearing his throat, Stannis continued. Not wishing to stoke his bitter brother's ire.
Whispers have come to me in regards to a bitterness that has developed between yourself and several influential individuals in high positions within the small council. As one that has suffered the same, I can relate and propose a solution, namely the forging of a bond between our two Kingdoms.
I would be eager to hear your response.
Tywin Lannister
Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West
Setting the leaf of parchment down on the desk, Stannis met the blue eyes of both his brothers. "So… there's that."
Robert blinked, peering at Stannis with confusion. "Well, what the fuck does he want?"
The middle of the remaining Baratheons fought the urge to roll his eyes. He can't possibly be that dense. Probably too much wine. "I think he's proposing a potential alliance by marriage."
That took a moment to digest. "Oh… Ooooh." His eyes widened. "What, to the bitch lioness… I think I'd rather fuck a warm melon."
"I think you actually did that once," Renly grinned, only to find Robert's fist slamming into his shoulder. "Fuck…"
"Oh stop with that ya' fuckin' pansy. Take your pain like a man, meanin' not up the ass."
"Look," Stannis interjected, dour voice perfect to mellow Robert out. "This is a very serious request by him."
Insults notwithstanding, Renly refused to be counted out. "What is there to worry about? With Jaime Lannister having take the white and the Imp being a debased monster, Robert's spare heirs would have Casterly Rock to inherit. Imagine, all that gold controlled by our nephew." He licked his lips, imagining the things he could do with that. Finally paying the wretched Targs back.
It was up to Stannis to bring them both down to earth.
"I don't want to marry that fucking cunt," Robert shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. "Damn it, I want my fucking bride back from that dragonspawn rapist!" Stannis sighed - it wasn't the first time that he mentioned that. Guards better get ready, cause he's gonna burn out his rage on the sparring grounds.
Renly shrugged. "Why bother with one or the other? Sire an heir for the old lion on Cersei, then fight to get your wolf back after. Lots of things can happen to a woman after childbirth." the youth was lazy and narrowly ambitious, but no one could say he couldn't devise rather ruthless plots. Ones that made Stannis' skin crawl.
But Robert only laughed. "Finally, something out of your mind other than mincing crap! That's probably what I should do." He turned to Stannis. "Write the bastard back. Tell him I'm interested." Grabbing the flagon of wine from the dresser, he walked off - beginning to swig it.
Stannis glared at his little brother. "You're playing with fire, Renly."
The four and ten adolescent chuckled. "Grandmother was a Targaryen, brother," it disgusted him, but neither Maeker nor Aegon had sent their father or mother to their deaths. "Fire is our element." One bitter drunk and one whelp eager to show up the world… gods have mercy.
"I can't do this, Ellaria."
The Dornishwoman huffed, practically shoving Dacey down the hall. "Gods, and they say we are stubborn creatures."
Stubborn… Dacey wouldn't say she was that. Apprehensive, seven hells yes… She could take on Ironborn toe to toe but couldn't approach the man she fancied. Get a damn grip, Dacey! But it was Arthur Dayne they were talking about... "What if this doesn't work?"
"I speak from experience, no man has ever resisted this if done right." Cloistered maidens, happily married husbands, and even a dour Septa or two had all thought themselves incorruptible in Ellaria's life. Oh, were they wrong.
Dacey swallowed. "It… just seems too sudden for it to succeed. Ser Arthur has barely spoken a word to me in weeks. He's been avoiding me, I'm positive of that."
Pushing her through the dark corridors, Ellaria laughed. "That's a good thing. He's trying to avoid the temptation that you've given him. Now for the final push."
"But what if he's just keeping an irritation away?"
"If you are the right match for Arthur, and by Mother Rhoyne you are, then he'll be unable to resist you."
"I…"
Groaning, Ellaria grabbed Dacey's shoulders. "By the Seven, I had the best lover of my life leave for parts unknown!" It wasn't a lie - after all the men and women she had bedded, Oberyn shockingly made her feel things she never had before. But now he was gone. At her urging. Gods, that may have been a mistake… "If I can't be in bed with a mighty highborn warrior inside me, then you fucking will if I have anything to say about it!" Ellaria watched as Dacey's eyes glassed over. Likely imagining Arthur inside her. That's the spirit. "Ready?"
Dacey nodded after a moment. "Aye, I'm ready."
"You're lucky tonight, Dayne," Oswell Whent shot at his whitecloak brother, smacking a mailed hand on his shoulderplate. "Got to enjoy the day riding with the Prince and Princess, while I have the night shift."
"Speak for yourself," Arthur replied. "Have you seen Princess Lyanna riding? She turns every trot into a tourney race. I don't know how the damn Reach or Westerlands knights do it in this armored monstrosity, let alone the horse."
Oswell rolled his eyes. "Complaints, complaints. Not the best look, Arthur." That earned him a punch to the arm, laughing as he rubbed it. "Gods, it feels good for this place not to be such a crypt all the time."
"I figure you aren't speaking of the color?" Before, only the bubbly Princess Rhaenys could bring joy, with Rhaegar so brooding and Elia so quiet. Now, their Prince was smiling most of the day, both Princesses showered him with affection and he them, and the children were brighter than ever. "Who's chambers are you standing guard outside?"
"Luckily the Lady's chambers," Oswell replied with relief. "Gerold has the unenviable duty of taking position at the Lord's."
Arthur chuckled at that. "Her rides on Winter make Princess Lyanna quite frisky, don't they?" Then again, neither woman needed an excuse to attack their husband once alone. It was the first moons of Lyanna's marriage to Rhaegar… Thinking about it, this is likely the long-delayed first moons of Elia's marriage to Rhaegar as well. Arthur could only pray for his childhood friend and his Prince to continue with such passion and love. "Alright, brother. I'll see you on the morrow."
Unlike at the Red Keep - where all of them slept in a communal dormitory - on Dragonstone they all had their own tiny chamber. Arthur appreciated the modicum of comfort. Lonely, but mine. He had long resigned himself to adopting the chivalrous life.
Groaning at the aches and pains in his muscles and joints, Arthur removes his gauntlets and cloak. Hearing them clink as they dropped to the table he used for the purpose. Ah, much better…
"Greetings, Ser Arthur…"
Whirling around on his heels, what Arthur found took his breath away. "Lady Dacey?"
The she-bear was on his bed, illuminated by pale candlelight. Her athletic curves and trim figure of her glorious body covered only by a silk gown. Hair again adorned in a ponytail. "Who else would it be?" Her heart was beating out of her skin, but seeing his face heartened her. Arthur does desire me…
How did he not see her there? Gods, I've seen her every time the last few weeks. The Mormont girl's radiant smile, the way her muscles flexed as she trained as well as any male knight, her dresses smug against her supple breasts... all of it tormented him. Testing his vows. "Lady Dacey... what are you doing here?" Arthur had to look away, but found himself unable to.
His hesitancy lit a fire inside Dacey. "Stop playing the fool Ser Arthur," the she-bear declared, slowly rising from the bed. "You know why I'm here." She bit her lip, walking to him with a provocative sway of her hips.
"I… I think you should go back to your chambers." He was used to how Andal maidens innocently charmed their prospective husbands. While the sultry Dornish seductresses were adept in luring unsuspecting men to their beds, Arthur had grown up among them and was therefore immune. Ellaria and her gossamer gowns and lusty eyes did nothing to him… but Dacey Mormont in the same… "I could escort you if you like…"
Chuckling, even Dacey was shocked at how throaty and alluring her laugh was. "I don't think so." Face to face with the handsome Sword of the Morning - barely a quarter of a head shorter - she reached up and slowly eased his breastplate off. Not breaking the stare of her forest green eyes. "I want you, Ser Arthur." Her forceful words were belied with a gentle touch on his muscled chest, sweet and affectionate.
Gods… he could see her milky skin underneath the see-through gown. Wild northern beauty on full display doing for him that any southern or Dornish maiden wouldn't even begin. "You... flatter me my lady… but my vows..." Arthur was close to the breaking point and he knew it.
Bold, impatient and arousal demanding everything of her, Dacey silences whatever he wanted to say in a kiss. Forceful and passionate, warmth spreading through her as the dream of the last few moons finally came true.
Whatever protest Arthur might have had went out the window. The want for this goddess of the north just overcame his reservations, mind spinning as if drunk. Rhaegar had no chance against Princess Lyanna. Even the man derided as 'Ser Stuffy' by his comrades - and family - had no chance against the northern beauty. The day after may find him regretful, but at that moment Ser Arthur melted into the kiss.
It was far better than anything Dacey could have imagined. One kiss that blew away any of her past sexual experiences. Her lustful eyes kept locked with his purples while she guided his hand to the sides of her breasts - making sure he touched just where Ellaria proved made her wild. Sighing in pleasure. "You're too tightly wrapped, Ser Arthur," Dacey husked, cunt soaked. "Let me relax you."
Arthur's senses were clouded… one moment they were standing. The next found them walking to the bed, Dacey slowly stripping him of his tunic and trousers. Then he pushed her robe to the ground, leaving her so gloriously naked. Finally, they were on the mattress, him hovering above her, kissing languidly as he perched between her legs. "Are you sure, Lady Mormont?" There was no stopping this, white cloak or no. "I… I've never done this before…"
Hearing that, the boldness left. Leaving a gentle, sweet remnant. "My handsome knight," she cooed, cupping his cheek. "It's mine too, but I want it. I want you." Dacey reached down to his delicious member. Smearing it with her wetness. "I'm ready, Arthur. Please…" Without warning he bucked inside her, spurring the both of them to bliss.
From outside the door, Ellaria felt a grin curling on her lips at the mixed moans - both male and female. Oh, I am good. The pleasure houses of Lys should learn from her.
"Please… my knight…" came a desperate voice through the door. "Harder…"
Shaking her head with a giggle, Ellaria decided to give her friend some privacy. Exquisite.
"Father! Please don't…!"
Smack! A young maiden - no maiden - falling to the ground, handprint on her face. "You have no right to make requests of me, slut!" The indefatigable Tywin Lannister, calculating and quiet to the world, when he did deign to lose his temper he roared like the lion he was. "You will fucking drink it!"
Sobs tore through her willowy body, face caked in tears and snot. "No!" She moved to stand on shaky legs, trembling with fear and resolve. "I will not!"
A punch to the gut followed. Knocking the wind out of her, she collapsed again only to be kicked in the side, screaming in pain. "Do not fucking speak back to me!"
"Brother," begged her youngest uncle, the other two joining her aunt and their mates in watching… unable to truly look. "She's your daughter…"
"No, she's a worthless whore that tried to reenact the Targaryen breeding practices in this castle. I will not have it. I WILL NOT HAVE IT!" He waved to his sworn sword… a massive giant of a man with three dogs weaved on his tunic. "Hold her down."
She tried to resist, screaming, clawing, pounding her fists against the solid wall of muscle with all her might, but it proved useless. He was just too strong. "No! You will not take him away from me!" Her hands wanted to cup the slight swell of her abdomen… only the man's hand kept hers pinned above him. Other one grasping her chin.
Tywin remained unresponsive. "You, Genna. Do it."
Tears fell down her cheeks. "I won't do it, brother." Her weakling of a husband, gulping, stood strong by his wife.
"Fine! I'll do it myself!" Grabbing the small flagon containing the contraceptive brew, he kneeled, pinching her nose just as the mountain of a man kept her head still. "Relax daughter. This will soon be over." His smirk was the last thing she saw as the moon tea fell down her open throat, world exploding in a flash of light.
The flash found her in front of the Sept of Baelor. An immense crowd in front of her - in front of many. Girl bearing fire-red hair, a manicled prisoner, Kingsguards in strange armor… and one young man. Crown atop his head, but hair a golden blonde instead of the silver of a Targaryen King.
"But they have the soft hearts of women!" He proclaimed, drawing queer looks from the redheaded girl.
It was a haze, a blur by the heat of the scorching summer sun. She wanted to shed her thick winter's dress but unable to. Rooted in place while the roar of a crowd boomed around her.
"BRING ME HIS HEAD!"
Cries of mercy and pain rang out, steel gleaming as an executioner approached a condemned man. Ordered by the same golden-haired monster. "This is madness," she heard herself whispering, but no care. Only a bloodlust as the sword swung. Meeting the exposed of the man just as he looked at her… making her scream.
Ned Stark...
Shooting upright, covers flinging in every direction, Cersei Lannister could only hear the heavy breaths sucked into her lungs. The almost painful thump of her heart. Soaked with sweat, Iit was as if the rains of Castamere had drenched her. Head spinning as she made out the dark confines of her chambers in the Rock.
A dream… just a dream… One that felt as real as the half-moon outside. As real as her hands right in front of her.
The day that had been her nightmares for years. The moment Tywin Lannister made the problem of his incestuous children 'disappear.' Shoved into the dank halls of Casterly Rock never to grace the lips of any but a lion. So much did she hate her father for that. Blame him for ripping her beautiful child from her womb…
But the vicious little boy in her dreams… Cersei remembered the eyes, the same shade of green as hers. As Jaime's. The pure madness inside of them...
A hand drifted to cup her stomach - Cersei remembering when her palms had ghosted over a slight swell. Was that my child? What my child would have… She collapsed onto the bed, the images of Ned Stark's head falling from his body still ripping through her.
Feeling her stomach churn, Cersei scrambled out of bed. Grasping for the thankfully empty chamber pot. Acid stinging her throat as she puked her guts out, groaning between heaves. She'd been doing that more recently, but nowhere as violent as this.
Not that she didn't know why. Ned… Try as she did to forget, he never left her thoughts. Memories of them together haunting her every waking moment. It was futile, she'd never forget him. In the bottom of her heart, Cersei knew she had fallen in love with him as strenuously as she would deny it consciously.
Only now, the images of him bare as he gave her the greatest pleasure were replaced by his head falling to the ground, killed by the nameless face of her child while she watched. Condoning it, almost...
I'm not that monster… I'm not…
But those eyes were hers.
A/N: So Dacey finally got her man :D
Turns out that Cersei has a different backstory here. Hope y'all think it works.
Catelyn... I think that's the way a more youthful and immature Catelyn would act. Remember, she didn't go to Winterfell before until she was a wife and mother already.
Next chapter: Aerys conducts a ceremony.
