A/N: Hey everybody. Hope your weekend is going well with all that's going on.
About the issues with the revelation from the last chapter: yes, Jon will emulate his father and Aegon the Conqueror by taking a second bride alongside Daenerys. Yes, it will be obvious who that lucky lady is rather soon. No, it won't be underdeveloped or appear out of nowhere. I intend to make it work and purge all the season 8 bullshit out of the characters so that they are more natural. Fandom wars don't interest me so no character will be bashed beyond their base personality showing itself. I'm gonna take all characters into some interesting avenues, so I'm asking y'all to have an open mind.
I don't intend to disappoint anyone reading. Be they Jonerys fans or otherwise.
Enjoy and please comment :D
Chapter 30: Expectancy
"Well. Seems like you have the stomach malady, my Lady."
Cersei rolled her eyes. "Oh? I had no idea," she huffed sarcastically.
Her insults were lost on Maester Gladyn - the stooped ancient figure's mind close to senility. Doddering around the spacious workroom, his unchanging loyalty to House Lannister ensured that Tywin wouldn't get rid of him even when Gladyn was past his prime. "Ah, here we go. A salt tonic that will ease the tempest in your belly." He handed a vial to her, snorting back a mouthful of phlegm. "Take this now, and once before every meal."
Cersei was simply too fatigued to lash out. "Thank you, maester," she finally murmured. Pushing herself off the chair. "I shall leave you to your work."
Walking through the airy courtyards and hallways of the great keep of Casterly Rock - nestled high up and carved into the massive mountain of stone overlooking Lannisport harbor - Cerei barely noticed the beautiful views of the sparkling ocean or the interior gardens. Each step she took through the courtyard felt like she was swimming in syrup. It had taken all of her strength to emerge from bed that morning… all Cersei chalked it up to missing Ned. How he held her, kissed her, deliciously thrusting inside her…
Gods, I miss him. Why must this happen to me?!
The sound of swords clashing was enough to roust her mind from its torpor. Apparently five men were assaulting one, but unlike Arthur Dayne's supreme skill Ser Gregor Clegane simply beat aside any foe with his massive bulk. Any man that ran at the mad dog was sent to the ground in one swing of his sword or his fist.
Shuddering at the thought of her father's personal butcher, Cersei turned a corner only to nearly run into someone. Unlike before when this happened - the first time she met her Ned, ironically enough - the visage before her made her flinch. "Lady Cersei," belted Sandor Clegane, his yellow teeth baring into a grin as he found his quarry. "Lord Tywin wants you in his solar."
Trying to ignore the man's half-scarred face - checkered and leathery skin quite disgusting to the eyes - Cersei scowled. "And what does my father wish from me, dog?"
If Sandor was irritated by the common taunt, he didn't show it. He must've heard worse in his day. "Does it look like the Lord of Casterly Rock shares his mind with me?' he deadpanned.
"Ugh, fine." Sandor, like his brother, was a sworn sword to her father. If he was sent to escort Cersei, Tywin was the one behind it. "I'll lead the way."
"Go ahead, my Lady." Before Cersei could brush past him, Sandor's eyes narrowed dangerously. There was Gregor, glaring daggers at Sandor. Their loathing of each other still burning as hotly as the forge that Gregor had shoved Sandor's face into when they were boys. Everyone in Casterly Rock knew that story. I hate Sandor, but… Cersei wouldn't wish that fate on anybody. "Come on." She tugged on his arm, urging him to let it go. "I'm not waiting all day, hound." Sending one last glare at his brother, Sandor complied.
It grew audible even at the beginning of the long corridor. A rage-fueled roar that shook the very stone that Casterly Rock was carved out of. "What in Seven Hells is happening?" Cersei muttered as she approached the door to her father's solar.
"I believe Lord Tywin is yellin' at some poor, dumb cunt," Sandor said flatly, face expressionless when Cersei glared at him.
Cersei could finally make out the specific voices. "Stop being a godsdamned fucking idiot for once in your cursed life!"
"Just because I don't have a stick up my ass about my 'legacy' doesn't mean my life is cursed, brother!" Uncle Gerion…
She could picture her father fuming, struggling not to strangle his youngest brother. "By the Seven… if I hadn't promised mother on her deathbed that I wouldn't kill you, I'd kill you."
Gerion scoffed. "Please, you'd actually shit gold before you spilled the family's blood."
"I'm not letting you become another Tommen II. Disappeared into the ruins of Old Valyria never to be seen again." Cersei's eyes widened. Was her uncle going to Valyria? He will be killed.
"You always looked out for us Ty, and Kev, Tyg, and I have repaid you in full. I'm sick of being always the least of my siblings! I want to do something to prove that I'm as much of a lion as you all are!"
"You can't be a lion if you're fucking dead!"
"Please brothers." Her uncle Kevan. "Let's calm ourselves…"
"Oh for fuck's sake." Unable to stand this, Sandor pushed Cersei aside and knocked on the door. "My Lord, your daughter is here as requested."
Scowling, Tywin took a seat. Taking a sip of chilled wine to calm his system. "Good, Sandor. Take watch outside and see no one disturbs us."
Sandor nodded, complying as soon as Cersei entered. The scene before her was anticlimactic, but it was clear that there had been an argument. Her father was stoic but flushed, gentle uncle Kevan subdued, while uncle Tygett whispering something to an equally flushed Gerion. "Father," she curtseyed. "Uncles."
"Welcome daughter," Tywin said, though his tone was all but welcome. "Have a seat."
Face blank as she was taught, inside Cersei was shaking. The last time something like this happened, it was to inform her that Aerys had denied her betrothal to Rhaegar. "You summoned me?"
He nodded. "As you know, the proper duty of a Lord's son is to marry and make heirs."
"Then you've been an abject failure in teaching your sons, Ty," Gerion quipped, scowling even as Tygett hit him on the shoulder.
"Nevertheless," Tywin continued. "The duty of a daughter is to produce alliances for the benefit of her house." Cersei's fingers gripped the intricately carved wood of the chair arm. "Your grandfather was a fool in how he handled your aunt's betrothal, and perhaps I miscalculated with you and Rhaegar. Therefore, I have given this some thought and settled on a proper match for your hand."
Cersei's heart was beating out of her chest. There was a faint glimmer of hope that Ned… "Who?"
Tywin leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. "We are surrounded on all sides, so an alliance with a Lord Paramount would be quite favorable. While I considered either Lord Jon or Ser Elbert Arryn of the Vale, my primary choice for your hand is Lord Robert Baratheon."
It was as if a knife had been plunged into her chest. Rumors of Robert's whoring were the talk of King's Landing, and after what her beloved told her about the Lord of Storm's End… In the cold hard truth of being betrothed, Cersei realized she couldn't find herself in any way content with anyone but Ned.
A tiny smirk found its way to Tywin's lips. Something to pawn off the Arryns, plus Gerion marrying the younger Tully brat… Aerys, you aren't going to get away with this. He loved it when he outsmarted his enemies. "Tygett and your Aunt Genna will accompany you to Storm's End…"
"No."
Tywin blinked. "What did you say?"
There was no doubt what was going to happen, but Cersei would not let herself be sold to a would be rapist without every chance to marry Ned. "No, I will not go."
"You do realize I am not asking, correct?" A vein bulged in Tywin's skull.
"I'm sure she's just nervous, brother," Kevan stammered. "Genna can…"
Turning to face Kevan, Cersei's green eyes were as firm as her father's. "I am not nervous, uncle. I will not marry Robert Baratheon."
Three pairs of eyes widened, while one narrowed. "You will if I order you to," Tywin seethed. "And I am."
"What's gotten into you, Cersei?" Tygett stammered.
Breathing deeply, Cersei's only hope was to appeal to her father's strategic mind. "I simply do not think that Robert is a wise choice."
While Tywin nearly rose in anger, Gerion was the first to answer. "And why do you think that, niece?"
Thank you, uncle. "Robert is hated by Princess Lyanna. Forming an alliance with him would only antagonize the Targaryens further."
"And who would you suggest for an alliance?"
Cersei gulped, murmuring a silent prayer. "House Stark."
"Brandon Stark is already betrothed to Catelyn Tully," Tygett scoffed. "Unless you wish to marry Lord Rickard?"
"No, Lord Eddard, his second son." Just a tiny bit of joy filled her voice - one Tywin picked up on. "He is close with Princess Lyanna and friends with Prince Rhaegar, and I believe he'll end up Hand of the King someday."
Nodding his head slightly, suddenly Tywin slammed his fist on the desk. "Enough!" He rose, green eyes dark with anger. "You will do as I say!"
Cersei rose as well, trembling but not backing down. "I will not!"
It happened in a flash. One moment Tywin was blindsided by the deliberate disobeyal, the next Cersei was sprawled on the ground - chair knocked over and a stinging pain on her cheek. Tywin standing over her. "How dare you talk back to me!" She tried to sit up when her father grabbed her by her hair. Cersei screeched in pain. "You will marry Robert Baratheon!"
"I'd rather die!" Tywin slugged her across the face. From the pain and the frantic movements, Cersei vomited, doubling over as the Lord of Casterly Rock kicked her in the back. "Father…"
"Don't you father me, you little slut!" He kicked her again, rage clouding his vision and none of his brothers willing to brave his wrath. The wrath that destroyed the Reynes and Tarbecks. "First you fuck your own brother! Having his baby and disgracing my house, but you will not fucking bring what I've done to ruin!"
"Do what… you want…" Cersei gasped, coughing. "But I will never marry that fucking oaf."
Ready to hit her again, Tywin stopped. Too angry to even consider it. "You'll marry him if I have to strap you down and force you at swordpoint!" Spitting on the pathetic sight before him, he stormed out. Followed quickly by Kevan and Tygett.
Curled into a ball, Cersei sobbed quietly. Body aching and heart broken in two - all hope quashed from her. She barely noticed her remaining uncle hug her. "Sandor," Gerion called for the sworn sword. "It's alright, sweetling. You'll be alright."
"No," Cersei choked out. "Nothing'll be alright again."
Arms wrapped around Dacey's chest, Arthur brought their lips together as his northern lover rode him like a stallion. "Mmmmhhmm!" She whimpered, clenching around his cock. "Make me cum, Arthur." His hips rocked, skin slapping together. Dacey's lips quivered, eyes shut tight. "Oh gods, like that!"
Cunt like a vice trying to force him out, Arthur thrust harder. "So tight." Tongue flicking on her nipples, just the mere gesture caused her to squeal. Quickly, Arthur pulled back, staring into her eyes.
"Just be gentle… don't stop." And stop he didn't, making the she-bear growl above him. Frantically bucking her hips on his cock. Screaming as her climax shattered her completely… his not long after.
Arthur let out a grunt as Dacey collapsed atop him, bodies flush against each other. "Gods. Are you sure you weren't trained in Dorne?"
Nuzzling the Sword of the Morning's neck, Dacey chuckled. I suppose I was trained by Dorne. "No. You're just a lucky lucky man to have a northerner in your bed." At her last word she yawned, eyes fluttering shut. "Gods, I'm so tired this morning."
"I suppose what we just did doesn't help matters," Arthur quipped. She shimmied off him, wincing when her breasts slid on his bare chest. They had been lovers for long enough - each other's only lover - for Arthur to memorize most details about Dacey. "Are you alright, my lady?"
She nodded sleepily. "Aye…" Dacey was sluggish. "It's… fine, Ser Arthur."
Sighing, Arthur nodded. Swinging out of bed to don his tunic, trousers, and armor. "As you wish, my Lady." One last look at her beautiful face framed by raven hair, kissed by the last tendrils of moonlight, brought him joy that would brighten his duties.
Whistling, Arthur walked into the Dragonstone great hall. Finding his brothers-in-arms, he was relieved at seeing a small roll, an apple, hard cheese, and a tankard of milk waiting for him. "Saves me a journey to the kitchens," he quipped, knife already smearing the cheese onto the roll. Arthur looked up at his brothers. "What?"
Gerold and Oswell looked at him as if he sprouted three heads, while Barristan wore a hint of a grin. Arthur was never this happy in the mornings - at least until this moon. Today was the most obvious though. "Um… Arthur." Gerold suddenly smirked. "Enjoyed your night?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I do believe you have no authority to ask."
"Come now, you can't hold us out like that, Arthur." Oswell smacked him on the back. "Tell me. Are the northern beauties as wild in coupling as they are generally?"
Barristan kicked Oswell under the table before Arthur could. "Lady Dacey is a highborn and you'll show her respect." It was jovial, but with a hidden steel that forced Oswell to comply. "Sorry about them, Arthur. They're just jealous that they left their mistresses in the capitol." Kingsguards were supposed to be celebate. As was the norm, most didn't bother… Barristan was one that did.
Shrugging, Arthur reached out to pat Oswell's shoulder. "Tis alright. Just don't disrespect Dacey. She means a lot to me."
"Gods, you've fallen for this woman." Gerold looked at him with… respect? "Dare I say love?"
"My vows preclude love," Arthur responded automatically.
"You've always been a stickler," Oswell interjected. "But your vows were broken the moment you slept with her. Dare I say that it means something for you?"
Opening his mouth to respond with the same answer, Arthur found them dying on his tongue. What did he truly wish for with Dacey? "Well." Barristan folded his arms. "I'd like to know this as well, Arthur."
"I…" He'd been so consumed with the physical aspect of his affair with the beautiful Mormont maiden, it was only just know that he realized that Dacey had wormed her way into his heart as well. Intelligent, caring, dutiful, and one impressive fighter… fighting Ironborn and wildlings had given her a fierce combat skill. They had sparred some, and she lasted quite a long time before he disarmed her. The perfect lady for any knight. "I… I guess I've never thought that far ahead between us."
It was an interesting sight - Arthur Dayne fazed by something… or someone. "Don't you think that she may have?" asked Barristan. "If she wished to seduce a kingsguard, then she's either a risk-taker or a woman in love… and I don't think she is the former."
Love. Arthur blinked. Could it be love?
Could I even love? He bit into a chunk of the roll, hoping Rhaegar or Lyanna would be up to a spar - clear his head.
"We's hit by dis madman!"
"You little thief! I should slice your hand off!"
"Tooch my 'ife and I'll cave in yer head!"
Ned slammed his fist on the high table. "SILENCE! SILENCE YOU CUNTS!" The squabbling smallfolk and men-at-arms ceasing their inane yells for once. Both supplicants bowed their heads in submission. "That's better."
He found Lady Catelyn's eyes closed, mouth pursed together. Not used to how the northerners hold court. In the Vale, Lord Arryn made sure using his guards to process an orderly court. Andal customs different from that of the First Men, quite a change for the pious Tully.
In all fairness to her, this was a vital headache for the residing Stark of Winterfell. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. While Catelyn wasn't yet a Stark, she would take part in this under Ned's supervision building a proper rapport with the smallfolk that she had failed at upon first impression. Though she spoke little and left most of it to Ned, she was doing rather well so far. "Now, tell me what the issue before me is."
The merchant stepped forward. "My Lord, these common scum." He pointed to a young Wintertown couple. "They sniffed my pies and refused to pay."
"It was only a sniff, mi'lord," said the woman, possessing a simple, earthy beauty.
"How can I sell my pies to the castle if they are tainted by their filthy noses?"
The husband took offense. "You 'ittle prick…!"
"Calm down." Ned turned to the laborer. "That coinpurse, hold it up." Blinking, the man took the little sack from his belt. "Jingle it a bit." The man complied. "There, your sniffed pies are paid for with the sound of coin. This matter is concluded." Boisterous laughter rang out while the merchant's face reddened to that of a ripe beet. But he didn't leave. "Didn't I say this was concluded?"
"You did, my Lord, my Lady. But I have another complaint to level. Against your Household Guard right there!" The merchant pointed at two guards.
Ned sighed deeply. "Dirk. Torrhen. What happened?"
The merchant was still pissed. "They got into a fight and busted up my tavern. Broke three chairs and a table before I heaved them out."
When their Lord's eyes fell on them, Torrhen shrugged. "We got drunk and had a disagreement mi'Lord."
"An explanation but not an excuse. You'll cut the wood to build him new furniture. Matter closed…"
Before he could finish, Catelyn stood up. "Consumed by drink? Tavern brawls?" She looked disgusted. "I expect better from Knights of the Realm."
Both men blinked, shocked. Knighthood and the Faith of the Seven had no place in the North. "Mi'Lady, we're not…"
"Unacceptable! Every member of the Household Guard is to adhere to the code of chivalry. I have seen enough disgraceful behavior."
Hearing murmurs from the onlookers, Ned tried to cut in. "Catelyn, perhaps…"
But she didn't care. "I am placing you in the cells for one week to think about your unchivalrous conduct. Take them away." With the Tully guards already complying with their lady's orders, there was nothing that Ned could do… except watch the glares of the crowds as Catelyn's adherence to southern norms only served to further divide the populace against her.
Bran can't come back soon enough...
"Lord Stark."
Court dismissed only moments before, Ned continued walking several paces before he realized that he was being called on. "Oh." He turned, finding a young warrior coiffed hair and a close-cropped beard approaching him. "Forgive me, I'm honestly not used to my father or brother's title," Ned grinned, taking the man's outstretched hand. "What do you need…"
The man smiled. "Jorah. Jorah Mormont."
Finally noticing the bear sigil emblazoned on his leathers. "Ah, Lord Mormont. I'm glad to meet your acquaintance."
Jorah shook his head. "No, the honor is mine to meet the warrior that vanquished the Sword of the Morning."
Ned snorted. "Arthur Dayne is very much alive - it was a mere sparring session." Yet, he couldn't help but enjoy the praise. "Is your father with you?"
"Sadly no. I would have joined my sister in King's Landing but I was stuck at Castle Black… my father is a stickler for the 'Northern duty.' One day he'll take the black, I suppose." Older brother to Dacey, the young bear was a veteran of Ironborn and wildling raids. That and his loyalty made him prime recruitment for the conspirators. "Howland Reed said you wished to speak?"
"Let's talk in my father's solar. Mine until my brother arrives."
"Ah, staying with Lord Stark in the capitol? My congratulations on such an illustrious honor for House Stark, even if Lady Lyanna will have to share the title of Queen."
"Dragons answer to neither gods nor men, and Rhaegar is the perfect man for my sister. They love each other." Ned smiled wistfully just as they reached his solar. Entering, he was not surprised to find Howland waiting for him… Ned was surprised to see who had joined him. "Lord Bolton."
Roose Bolton's narrow eyes and deathly calm exterior hid someone that still flayed men in secret - a man from the house of natural rivals to House Stark. "Lord Eddard. It seems that you have been doing quite well for yourself. Shame the future Lady is causing such grumbles."
There was no good answer to that, so Ned didn't bother. "What do you want, Lord Bolton? I am quite busy."
While the man only smiled, Howland cleared his throat. "He knows, Ned." He winced as the second son's eyes widened. "Don't ask me how."
Resisting the urge to grab his knife - both dishonorable and would cause a certain revolt - Ned reasoned that had Bolton sought to do anything someone would have died by now. "Speak, Lord Bolton. I presume you do have something to say?'
"You presume correctly." Smile still foreboding, he continued. "I have no interest in betraying anyone, and wish to pledge House Bolton to your quest."
"What quest?" Jorah asked in confusion, but was ignored.
Ned's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"Given what I found of His Grace, I very much doubt he'd be very forgiving of any Northerner if relations with House Stark… had a falling out. I would be in jeopardy, as would the trade agreements I forged with the merchants of the Free Cities."
"Excuse me, but what in seven hells is going on?" Jorah's behavior would have been comical if the subject wasn't so serious.
Sighing once more, Ned pinched the bridge of his nose. "It starts with an attempt by the King to take the life of my sister…"
"Did you see how uncouth these supposed Highborns are?" While many of Catelyn's retinue were struggling to adapt to the North, Septa Mordane was having the worst of it. "Lord Umber left a trail of chicken legs behind him and Lord Cerwyn gave you lustful stares."
"They aren't all uncouth. My goodbrother has honor, and Lord Bolton was rather noble is spite of the reputation his house."
"Well…" The Septa huffed. "While I can't speak for Lord Bolton, Lord Stark was fostered by Lord Arryn. The rest… it's no wonder that the Princess Lyanna and Lady Dacey are the way they are. Even the Dornish have some courtly manners."
Catelyn winced. "Do not speak ill of my goodsister - she is as venerated as the Maiden within these walls." As the Septa quieted down, the future Lady of Winterfell was thankful the hallways were deserted. "Now," she said at finding her chambers. "I'll see you before dinner for the evening prayers."
"Good." Mordane curtseyed. "Till later, my Lady."
Door closing, Catelyn sighed deeply as she fell back against it. Allowing her facade to crumble. Walking through the room, she prayed to the Mother that Brandon would arrive soon - give her an ally among the Northmen. Calm her discomfort with his pleasing touch…
Not wishing to feel her smallclothes dampen with a longing arousal, she took a seat at her desk. Deciding to write the only other person that could truly comfort her at this low point in her life.
My dearest brother Petyr,
I pray to each of the Seven that Edmure, Lysa, and yourself are well in the comfort of our home.
I cannot begin to explain the North to you, nor how I fondly wish I was in Riverrun. These people are awful. Uncouth, uncultured barbarians one step above wildlings. Ned and perhaps Lords Bolton and Mormont and the only ones that I can tolerate. My fondest wish is that Brandon arrives soon, and that his noble bearing helps me bring culture to this frozen wasteland.
There is no Sept here, so I am reduced to my rites in my own chambers. When I am the Lady of this castle with children of my own, they shall be raised as proper Lords and Ladies that would be welcome at our home.
Please write soon, and I hope that you could visit Winterfell sometime in the future. I could use the presence of a true friend.
Cat.
Smile stretching from ear to ear, Lyanna watched as the adorable violet-eyed babe crawled shakily to her. "Come here, Egg," she reached out her arms. "Come to muna."
Prince Aegon looked up with an open mouth at his birth mother. Elia nodded, smile just as wide. "It's fine, little dragon. Go on."
Without further hesitation, Egg crawled all the way to Lyanna. Giggling as he was scooped up in his muna's arms. "I'm so proud of you!" She hugged Aegon close to her. "I can't believe I missed his first crawl."
"It was amazing," Elia beamed. Ending up wrapping her arms around Lyanna as well. "You'll still have his other moments. Perhaps his first steps, or words?"
"Or our new children." Pressing a kiss to the crown of Aegon's head, Lyanna imagined a child growing within her. Raised by all three of them as it was supposed to be with the conquerors.
Closing her eyes, parsing her sister-wife's words, Elia repeated what had been said over and over again in her head. Lyanna loves Egg and Rhae. She'd never usurp them. It hurt her heart that these thoughts even came in her head, so she just hugged the two of them closer. Enjoying her baby's silent murmurs and the piney scent of Lyanna's hair. Unable to resist splaying her hands on her sister-wife's slender back…
Suddenly, Lyanna stood, face green. "Shit…" Scrambling to the window, she voided her stomach of all its contents. Groaning as tears came to her eyes, weakly pounding her fist upon the ledge in frustration. "Motherfucker!"
Luckily, Elia's hold kept Aegon secure. "Language, Lyanna. Not in front of my… our son." She caught herself.
Lyanna wasn't in the proper frame to pick on the faux pax. "Sorry, Elia… seven hells, this is the second time today!" Pulling back, she winced as Elia set Egg back in his crib. "My stomach has been a blowing blizzard for days, then this morning I couldn't break my fast without erupting." Her mouth tasted disgusting. "Gods… why me?"
"Stomach sickness?" Elia inquired, brow risen. "Could be something noxious you've eaten, or a nasty vapor." Or could be… "Do you wish to see Maester Marwyn?"
Sighing, Lyanna nodded. "I think I should." While Maester Luwin had been kind and sweet, she normally hated visiting them and enduring all the pokes and prods and disgusting brews. But the irritation in her abdomen was just getting to her. "Yes, let's go."
After kissing Aegon's sleeping cheek one last time, Lyanna walked slowly down the corridors towards the Maester's quarters. Elia's arm around her waist, helping her along. Her stomach continued to churn, but the touch of her sister-wife was calming. Almost as good as Rhaegar's touch. "Thank you," she said warmly.
Elia smiled softly. "No need to thank me, sister."
Blushing slightly, Lyanna leaned in a bit more to Elia. Enjoying it. Mind drifting to what Targaryens did with their sisters…
Speaking of Targaryens… "Muna! Muna!" Black curls bouncing, the bundle of giggles and joy slammed into the both of them. Cradling her cat in her arms. "I miss you. Pwease play with me and Bawlerion!"
Normally both women would adore playing with their little dragon princess, but Rhaenys' exuberance was threatening to restart Lyanna's stomach sickness all over again. "Oh, sweetling, we'd love to, but…"
"Oh, your Graces." Trotting up, Barristan bowed shallowly. "Forgive me, but the sweet child is a tough one to keep attention on."
Just like Oberyn. Elia couldn't count how many times he'd escape his maids buck naked and running around. Not that he's changed much since then. Seeing Lyanna fighting another void, Elia ruffled her daughter's hair. "We'd love to, but muna isn't up to it."
The two violet eyes stared, glistening in absolute cuteness. "But Ser Bawistan bowing…" She lightly stroked the cat's fur, Balerion purring.
Shrugging, the Knight chuckled. "I don't want to risk hurting her. She plays rough." That did sound like Rhaenys…
"But I thought aunt Dacey and aunt Ellaria were playing with you?" That was their duty for the day, care for the Princess.
"They in aunt Dacey's chambers. Aunt Dacey gween… like muna." She pointed at Lyanna's green gills.
Both Princesses looked worried at each other. "Barristan, please take her…"
"No, I stay with muna!" she shrieked.
"Very well, but keep her behind us." If there was some kind of vapor going around… first Lyanna and now Dacey…
As Rhaenys had told them, both royals found Dacey quiet and looking completely haggard. Eyes sunken slightly, but also filled with unshed tears. Her own stomach sickness forgotten, Lyanna went to her friend. "What happened?"
Dacey sniffled, head hung down. "I woke up too tired to get out of bed, and I lost my stomach when I finally did…"
From where she was sitting, rubbing her back, Ellaria interjected. "What my friend is saying is that she's fallen ill because she's with child."
"Ellaria!" Dacey hissed, eyes blazing. The Princesses were stunned, Rhaenys confused in her childlike innocence, and Barristan looking like he wished to be anywhere else - he knew exactly who the father was. "I told you to keep it to yourself!"
"Well you know I don't do well with oaths," she replied, standing firm. "Besides, they deserve to know. What? Think you can hide this from them till the future Sword of the Morning pops his head out of your womb and shouts 'Where's my fucking blade?'"
"Ellaria!" This time it came from three throats.
Recovering from the shock, Elia looked at the northerner. "How long did you know?"
She closes her eyes. "Just today, when I went to the Maester. I'm a moonturn along. My moon blood was supposed to come last week, but I figured it was nothing…" She buries her face in her hands, sobbing lightly.
Lyanna hugged her. "Is it… Arthur's." Barristan winced behind them.
Saved nodded. "Gods… how do I tell him? We never thought…"
"That's what happens when you don't drink moontea," Ellaria blurted out, only to get a glare from Lyanna. "What?"
Ignoring her, Dacey continued to cry. "His vows… a bastard… what if he doesn't want a child… what if he rejects me?" The thought was killing her. "I think I love him…"
"He'll be shocked, my Lady," Barristan stated. "But he'll not reject the child, I promise." That seemed to calm Dacey down enough for Lyanna to comfort her.
But Elia's mind was whirring, "Lya, when was your last moonblood?"
"Three… three weeks before the wedding. It was the first time Aerys…" Wait, had dealing with her goodfather made her forget…? "What does that have to do with anything?"
Glancing at Ellaria, her Lady in Waiting knew what to do. Darting forward, she grabbed Lyanna's breasts. "Hey!" She pushed away not before Ellaria gave a painful squeeze.
"Mother Rhoyne, I admire his Grace's taste," she quipped. "Aye, Elia. They feel swollen."
While Dacey was wide-eyed in understanding, Lyanna just glared. "Yes, because you squeezed it."
"No, sister." Elia sat next to Lyanna. "I had my suspicions, but I'm sure now." A smile spread across her face. "You're with child. Our husband's child."
Gasping, Lyanna looked around the chambers. Finding faces filled with joy for her - even Dacey put aside her problems to hug her this time. "Congratulations, your Grace." Barristan beamed.
"But I… early… just married…" Holding her abdomen, another gasp tumbled out. There was something there - be it instinct or magic… Lyanna felt a life growing there. A dragonwolf… mine and Rhaegar's.
"Yay, muna!" Rhaenys was hugging her instantly. "I wanna brudder. Pwease, pwease a brudder. Pwetty pwease!"
Jon… Jon or Visenya. You'll be here in eight moons. Looking from Rhaenys to Ellaria to Dacey to Barristan and finally to Elia, just as it sunk in a brilliant smile formed. Lost in tears of joy. My babe.
A/N: So many pregnancies! :D
Cersei's not gonna give in so easy. She is in love and isn't gonna let her father marry her to that oaf without a fight.
Arthur and Dacey really went from zero to ninety didn't they?
So Ned has Howland, Jorah, and Roose Bolton on his war council. One of those doesn't fit with the others.
Dragonwolf's a comin!
Next chapter, Cersei really pisses off her father and Melisandre has a vision.
