A/N: Hi guys! I'm married now to my beautiful wife. Even working for my idiot boss isn't dampening my mood :)
Good news, with Bet of Dragons done, my one shot done, and Targaryen Dynasty wrapping up (check them all out, I promise you'll love them), I shall be starting a new project: a modern romantic comedy (with plenty of smut) starring Jon and Daenerys :D It'll be posted on Ao3.
Be sure to check out my current stories Dragonshield and Heart of the Blessed.
Enjoy.
Chapter 84: Lady of Winterfell
"Well, welcome to your new home, sister." Seated across from her, Tyrion looked rather… cold. Burrowed into his thick wools. "Last chance to back out before we pass under the gates."
Cersei glared at him, hand on her growing stomach. "Fuck off, Tyrion."
"Language," chided Genna, eyes glaring at her niece. "You two promised you'd present a united front here. We wouldn't want the Starks to think less of us."
"Hey, if the ale is free-flowing and the brothels well-stocked then I'll kiss their cheeks." He chuckled and looked at his sister. "Not that I would be able to reach them, right Cersei?"
She couldn't help but smirk. "You know me so well, brother of mine." Another jolt in the way made her wince and rub her stomach. "Their Graces are determined to improve the infrastructure of the Kingdoms. Why not start with better roads."
"A good project to begin when Lady, dear niece," Genna said with a smile. "Rebuilding and revitalizing the keep into something great, like your father did with Casterly Rock."
"Perhaps… gods know these people need a good Lady after that… woman." She stilled herself. Cersei was determined not to badmouth Catelyn Stark in her death… at least in front of others not her blood.
I need the best impression with my stepchildren.
The wheelhouse came to a halt, immediately Ned opening the door. "My Lady," he said with a smile. Beside him was Robb, looking ever so adorable with an eager grin and in his Stark leathers.
Cersei beamed. "My Lord." She took his proffered hand and was let into the courtyard of Winterfell. It was a… an austere castle, no doubt. No frills, but beautiful in a harsh way. Cersei could take stock of it later, for there before them was the entire household welcoming their Lord back… as well as his new son and wife.
One was particularly eager. "Poppa!" Cersei watched a little girl with flowing red hair practically throw herself at Ned.
He laughed and hefted her up, twirling her around. "There's my little she-pup." He peppered the girl with kisses, making her giggle. Sansa Stark… my stepdaughter.
"Lady Sansa, keep your decorum," called out a woman in a septa's habit. She was sour and stern - Cersei disliked her already.
"Leave it," Ned commanded, kissing Sansa on the cheek. "Pup, let me introduce you to someone very dear to me." Tucked in his arm, Ned brought her to face Cersei. "Pup, this is Cersei Stark, my wife and your stepmother."
Sansa looked at her with her father's grey eyes, suddenly shy. "Hi," she squeaked.
Cersei gave her a warm smile. "Hello, dear daughter." She pinched her cheek. "You have your mother's beauty but I can see your father in you."
"I's a wolf," she said firmly.
"I's a wolf too!" Robb had appeared at his mother's side, looking up at Sansa. "I'm Robb."
Confused, Sansa looked at her father. Ned laughed. "This is your brother, pup. Say hello." He set her down, going to pick up a babe from one of the maids.
Sansa approached him cautiously. "I'm Sansa. Welcome… brudder."
"You my sister?" Robb smiled at her nod. "I always wanted a sister… momma's belly have sister but I have you now too."
While his words seemed to please Sansa, her face lit up as a little creature scampered beside Robb. "Is that lion?"
"Aye, he's Lann." Robb picked him up, cuddling the lion's fur. "He's the bestest."
"Let me hold him! Let me hold him!"
Preoccupied with her beloved son greeting his new siblings, Cersei didn't notice the person that approached her until his massive shadow was towering over her. Turning, her eyes did a double take and she stepped back. "Um… Ned?"
"Hodor!" the giant blurted, a simple smile on his face. He pointed to the wheelhouse, where the Lannister guardsmen were… a bit concerned to see him so close to their Lady. "Hodor."
Seeing her guardsmen, ladies in waiting, aunt, and Tyrion equal parts puzzled and equal parts fearful, the lioness didn't let anything but curiosity appear on her face in front of the Stark Household. "Ned, who is this?"
Looking up from where he had been tickling little Rickard's nose, Ned found the scene before him and grimaced. Oh, please don't let this be… His gaze sweeping across the household, he saw Ser Rodrik, Nan, and the other senior staff of the keep looking intently at the scene - as if they had set this up.
No, they definitely set this up. "That, my love," he said, walking to her and making sure his side touched hers. "Is Hodor."
Hodor beamed. "Hodor!"
"Does he say anything else but his name?"
"That isn't his name… but it's all he can say." Ned looked at her with a sympathetic glance. "He's… a bit feebleminded unfortunately."
Cersei regarded the giant with new eyes. "I can see that, husband."
Old Nan stepped forward. "Forgive us, my Lady, for startling you." From the glint in her eye, both Ned and Cersei knew she was not being sincere in her apology, nor were the accompanying glances from the others in Winterfell that were of the Starks alone - only Ned knew why though. "But Hodor is our largest set of muscles and I figured he would be perfect for helping haul your baggage into the keep. For the daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock, we expected you to have a significant amount."
Biting back a snort, Cersei could tell they were sizing her up. Well then, northmen, let's play. "I do have much baggage, though a lot of it is for my dear son and your heir."
Not expecting that response, Nan didn't back down. "So my decision was correct?"
"My Lady, let that beast not approach you or your household," one of her guards stated. "Feebleminded giants have horrible tempers and could strike at any moment."
Hodor was confused. "Hooo...dor?"
Tyrion chuckled. "He reminds me of our cousin, sister. The one who kept crushing all the beetles. He was rather harmless… lest you were a beetle." He laughed at his own jape. Cersei just glared at him.
"My Lady…?" The man-at-arm's hand was on his sword, watching Hodor. The others of Winterfell were watching the scene, looks already hardening. Oh no… Ned knew this to be a set up repeat of Catelyn's arrival at Winterfell, and if the Lannister men reacted the same way she had…
"Oh, put that hand away before you hurt someone." Cersei rolled her eyes. "Hodor looks like he could lift twice you can, so shut up and let him assist." She looked at the giant with a smile. "Do try and be careful with my chest of dresses. I am quite fond of them… as is Lord Stark, I might add." Casting him a smoldering look, Ned reddened and looked back down at his babe.
For his part, Hodor clapped his hands. "Hodor! Hodor!" he bowed to Cersei and made for the lead wheelhouse, lifting up a trunk without assistance.
Around the grounds, the Stark household looked at Cersei with a newfound gaze. Most wore relieved smiles, including Old Nan. Cersei herself slipped into place beside Ned, looking over her new stepson as they followed Robb and Sansa - the two siblings chatting together as if they had been twins that grew up from the cradle.
Dinner was an intimate affair, feasts postponed given the one that heralded their arrival in the North at White Harbor. Ned spent his time continuing to reconnect with his beloved daughter, Sansa oft dissolving into giggles as he tickled her. Robb seemed to compete with his father for Sansa's attention. Regaling her with stories of Casterly Rock from growing up there, the both of them feeding Lann with table scraps. The cub loved Sansa, perched beside her in the chair for much of the dinner.
She seemed the sweetest girl to Cersei, though her interaction with her were… subdued. From the glares from the Septa that was always close to Ned's daughter, Cersei understood where it likely came from. Give me an excuse… just give it to me.
"Momma?" Cersei looked up from her boar roast and potatoes to see Robb looking at her, pleading. "Sansa wants to show me the godswood. Can we go?!"
"Robb… it's past sunset," Ned stated.
"But Robb never saw a godswood with trees," Sansa said as if it were the greatest of tragedies. "Please, please, please."
Cersei answered before Ned could. "In the morning, after we break our fast. Malera and Jory can escort you." Might as well give them some more time to be together.
Robb beamed. "Thank you, momma!"
"Thank you… Lady Stark," Sansa said, less enthused. Ned gave her a sympathetic look. It would take some time for them to bond.
Soon after, Ned put Sansa to bed while Cersei handled Robb. "Are you happy, pup?" she asked her son.
"I love it here, momma," Robb said sleepily. "Can we stay forever?"
Her heart soared. "Aye, we shall. I don't plan on leaving." Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Cersei ducked out of the chamber only to have Ned sweep her in his arms. "Ned," she giggled.
"I love you so much, wife." He kissed her.
She reciprocated, then took his arm. "I love you too, now take me to my chambers." Arriving at a door, Cersei clutched Ned's arm a bit tighter and smiled serenely at him. "So is this your bedchamber?"
Ned gulped. "Umm… my Lady, this is your bedchamber."
Her face fell. "So you wish not for me to share yours?" Cersei watched as he flushed red.
"Cers… you'd want to share mine?"
"Why wouldn't I wish to share a bed with my handsome husband?" she asked as if it was stupid to even doubt it. "Women that seek their own chamber are cold fishes that know they don't hold the love of their men nor are able to please them."
He grimaced. "Catelyn only slept in my bed on our wedding night. Else we… slept in hers or apart." My point, exactly, sweet Ned. "Forgive me if I made assumptions."
She smiled and cupped his cheek. "You are too sweet for your own good. I would only request an apology if you don't lead me to our chambers right now." Cersei waved off the offending bedchamber. "Our babe can get this one."
Ned chuckled, as you wish, Lady Stark." How he said the title - low and deep - made her shudder with pleasure.
His bedchamber was as she expected, though Cersei walked through it with interest. So this is where my beloved spent his nights all those years we were apart. To her sadness, there were few personal effects. Ice was mounted on the wall beneath a Stark banner, while the head of a longhorn elk adorned the mantle of the hearth - currently roaring in an effort to beat out the chill of night. "Seems… lifeless," she remarked sadly.
"Was merely a place I slept, Cers," he replied. Aside from toeing off his boots and unlacing his tunic, Ned just stood there, hands behind his back. "Never had much joy aside when Sansa had a nightmare and had to sleep with me." He didn't realize until now just how much she had kept him going in those cold years without Cersei.
Smiling at him sympathetically, Cersei leaned up to kiss his cheek. "We'll have to change that, won't we?" Breaking from him, she went to his bed - their bed. "Hmmm, big and sturdy." She ran a hand along the large fur blanket that was draped over the down cover. "Warm and soft if not the finery I'm used to."
Ned stepped behind her, two hands on her shoulders. "I can order you finer sheets from White Harbor if you like."
But she shook her head. "I may request some more decoration for this place, and perhaps some mementos of my childhood home, but this bed stays the way it is." Cersei turned and looped her arms around Ned. "Though the furs look quite warm, I will likely have to seek out you for body heat during the long winter nights." Her brow crooked up innocently. "Or is that a problem?"
"No," he replied breathlessly. "No problem at all."
Their lips slanted together not long after that, the heady moment between the two breaking out into lustful passion. On the march from White Harbor they had been cruelly denied each other by the close quarters and Cersei's stomach maladies, but nothing was stopping them now. They were home, in their bedchamber, right next to the bed. Cersei would seek the death of anyone who would stop them now. "Husband… let us… mmmm…" The lioness purred as Ned nipped at her neck, his beard tickling the skin. "Let us break in our bed."
"Whatever my Lady commands." They resumed their kiss, Ned pushing her gently onto the soft furs and climbing atop her. Cersei looped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Digging her nails into his shoulders, desperate to feel him close. That darkened his grey eyes, filling Ned with a pure lust. "You're sin," he gasped out. "A tempress."
"Oh?" Cersei batted her eyelashes. "Am I now?"
Ned suddenly tugged at her woolen dress, exposing her breasts to his lecherous stare. "A wild lioness that I must make mine. Irresistible." Cersei had seen many men lust after her and her beauty, but Ned's gaze… his was the only one she had ever felt weakness for. The desire to submit, to lose all inhibitions and allow to claim all of her.
But even she was surprised when instead of stripping her, Ned merely hiked up her dress. "Ned… my wolf… what?"
"I can't wait, Cers," he growled, yanking down her soaked smallclothes before moving for the ties of his trousers. "I have to have you." One hand fisted his cock while the other moved to palm her breast.
Cersei let out a filthy moan. Who was she to deny him? "Yes, have me, husband." Gods, she wanted it too - desperately so. She rolled her hips, trying to wriggle down to take his cock inside her cunt. He held back, merely groping her breasts. It made her moan, but otherwise was teasing and not quenching. "No… I need you, Ned. I need your cock inside me. Claim your lioness like the hungry wolf you are."
"Fuck me," Ned growled, unable to resist her allure any longer.
At his slow push into her cunt, Cersei purred. She closed her legs around his hips and urged him deeper, breaking out into a lusty smile as he began to thrust and rock into her. Ned sucked at her neck until blazing a trail to her bouncing breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. It felt amazing, the parts of his body assaulting her in the most delicious of ways.
Feeling her climax coming quickly - he was always amazing in bed, but with her pregnancy Cersei found herself so much more desirous of her Ned. The inability to last long being a curse from the life growing inside of her. Cersei grabbed his chin, stormy grey meeting twinkling emerald. "Cum in me, husband."
Her filthy words lit a fire inside of him. "Cersei," he grunted.
"Fill my cunt with your seed. Do it, my wolf. Claim your lioness!"
Ned felt the walls around his cock tighten, drawing him to thrust harder to beat his way against the squeezing cunt of his beloved. Their mouths crashed together, tongues wrestling with one another for dominance. "Cersei!" he howled, the wolf coming out to play.
"Ned!" she gasped, the seed spilling into her cunt and triggering her own explosion.
They held each other close, bodies trembling. "So…" Ned finally managed to say. "Are you warm enough now?"
Giggling, the new Lady of Winterfell looked up at her love. "Perhaps… I think I'm not quite there yet." As he hardened again inside her, Cersei moaned, eager to begin her new life.
"Foolish girl! Get back here!"
"You don't tell me what to do!" A leg lashed out and kicked Alliser Thorne in the shin, causing the Lord of Duskendale to howl. "You're not my father!"
Alliser, lips pursed in a growl, lifted the girl by the scruff of her collar into the air. "You brat…"
"Enough, Thorne." Tywin was not in the mood for this… he'd had enough dealing with brats when his twins and Tyrion were but children. Thank the gods Robb was a sweet boy. Certainly he had Podrick as well, but that boy was even more quiet and gentle. Hopefully growing up with Kevan in the Rock alongside his and Genna's brood would raise him properly. As for the squid… "Bring her to me."
Little Asha Greyjoy was a spitfire. Unlike her brother Theon - who had departed with his daughter, goodson, and grandson for Winterfell - the girl was to be the ward of the Crown and Tywin greatly pitied the King and Queens. He barely dealt with her, and already Tywin wanted to drown her in the Trident. "One day, I'll kill you all!" she hissed at all those that served House Targaryen.
"Good show, Lady Asha," Tywin replied evenly. "Then when the dragons, who by the time you come of age will be massive monsters the size of entire keeps, torch all the Iron Islands into blackened rocks devoid of life you'll have less to show for it than when you started." That shut her up. "The King and Queen gave you more mercy than you deserved…"
"My mother didn't get mercy."
The girl was a lot more mature than Tywin figured. Pudgy and sullen, she didn't look it. Never underestimate anyone. His father had looked like the perfect knight but was instead a complete lecher and fool. "You are alive, so you better realize what you'll need to survive. Her battles are over. Yours have just begun." He waved her off. "Get her out of my sight, Thorne."
"You ered' 'em," Thorne growled. "Back to your bed." The girl shot them all one last dirty look before being carried out.
Finalizing the last set of dispatches and commands for Kevan to handle in his new overlordship over Casterly Rock in his absence, Tywin had just finished signing his name when Sandor Clegane entered. "Lord Tully says you need to speak."
Tywin narrowed his eyes. "Well he's welcome to come."
"I told him that," answered the Hound - ever sour but mostly loyal. Also not a murderous barbarian like his brother. Makes him more useful in some things, less useful in others. "There were other things said, but the gist of it was that he doesn't bow to anyone but the King in his own keep… my Lord."
Oh, so it's gonna be one of those, huh? "Damn… fine." Tywin stood, grabbing his red and gold cloak. "Let's get this over with."
To Tywin, House Tully was about as well-regarded as a rat dwelling in the dungeons. He thought little of them, most of their blood going as far back as the conquest being nothing more than favor-curryers or sniveling incompetents that lucked into power. From what he heard, all of Hoster Tully's brood were of this category, with the late Lady Catelyn being the best of the bunch. Only Brynden deserved respect, but he was a cadet branch now.
Luckily, Tywin saw him alongside his brother in the Lord's solar of Riverrun. The newly-minted Lord in the Crownlands looked bored, while Hoster was livid. Here we go. "Lord Tully."
"Lord Hand," was the reply. "Congratulations on your daughter's marriage on the grave of mine."
Tywin fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Since it's obvious you hold animosity, let us spare the formalities and have at it."
He clenched his fists. "You got what you wanted didn't you? A whole Kingdom for your bastard grandson."
"Robb Stark is the eldest child of Eddard Stark and my daughter, highborn on both sides. Don't blame me, blame the calendar."
"Oh, you cheeky little…"
The Blackfish interceded. "Brother, calm down." He cleared his throat. "What my Lord brother wishes to convey is a worry that the children of Lord Stark and my niece will be sidelined."
"I do not see how that has anything to do with me. I would insist you speak with Lord Stark… or perhaps I could arrange a meeting between you and his Grace." Let Rhaegar handle this… it would be a learning experience for him. Aerys wasn't good at it.
Hoster glared, but ultimately nodded. "Fine, I shall make my arrangements to meet his Grace."
Back in his bedchamber, Tywin toed off his boots and allowed himself to rest on the plush bed. He sighed, the stresses of the day manifesting in his thoughts. Hoster you fool. A slow smile spread on his lips, the Hand of the King chuckling rather amusingly. You don't realize that I already won, yet you still think yourself the victor?
Well, so did the Reynes and Tarbecks… and the former had been a mighty house with a powerful army. House Tully… they were nothing but jumped up opportunists that got lucky by submitting to Aegon the Conqueror first. House Blackwood and House Bracken are more powerful than they. House Mooton and House Frey more wealthy, and soon Harrenhal will be ruled by Princess Rhaenys most likely. How they thought they could force their King to heel was beyond him.
Rhaegar had won his bid for the throne and the first major challenge of his reign, but Tywin wasn't blind to the still dire situation. The King was not truly in charge, many enemies remaining. Kingdoms were divided and desperate requirements for peace left Lords in charge that hated the Crown or had an inexhaustible greed for more land and influence than Rhaegar wished to give them.
Only the plague and the dragons keep them at bay. Tywin was determined to keep it that way, as well as to slowly use the Royal family and those great houses loyal to him - House Lannister especially - to strengthen Royal authority. He smirked. Perhaps House Lannister will have Dragonriders. Robb as Lord of Winterfell, Jaime's daughter a dragon, and whatever other babes that Cersei would have with Ned Stark all changed his fortunes from but five years before.
No longer was Tywin worried that he'd need to make Gerion his heir.
A knock at the door drew his attention and he rose from the bed. Standing straight. Opening it, a young woman awaited him - one rather well-dressed in spite of her profession. Good, shows Lorch knows what he's doing for once. "Greetings, mi'Lord."
He regarded her with a scrutinizing look. "You're lowborn but speak well."
"I am the most expensive for a reason." She was pretty. Auburn hair, slim figure, and blue eyes twinkling with intelligence. Not as beautiful as my Joanna… "May I come in?"
"Of course." Tywin stepped aside and let her in. "Your name?" He didn't truly care usually, but was curious.
She was surprised he asked. "Talla Rivers, mi'Lord."
"A bastard then?"
Talla nodded. "One most would rather ignore." She didn't elaborate. But when she attempted to doff her blue dress, he stilled her. "You don't…?"
"No, not now." She raised a brow. The Lord of Casterly Rock pointed to a cyvasse board. "Can you play?"
She was surprised, but nodded. "Aye, I can play."
"Then let's. One must relax the mind before the body."
"I find most men don't have enough of the former to become tense to begin with."
"Quite true." This girl was most enjoyable. As the minutes passed, her clever mind was proving a proper foe on the game board. He was relaxing. "Do you have moon tea?"
"Always." She was rather firm.
He raised a brow. "You seem insistent?"
A sigh. "I wasn't always so guarded in my youth."
Hmmmm… "You have a child?"
"Aye, by a Lord more comely but far less intelligent than you." She grimaced. "Sick Stag."
Tywin nearly choked on the wine he was drinking. "Stag?"
"That was the sigil on his surcoat. Took me like an animal and kept calling me 'Lyanna.' That's the name of the Queen. Sick."
Oh, Tywin loved when things worked out. And the night wasn't yet over.
Turned out, her stepdaughter was right. Cersei had to admit that compared to the cave in which the Lannister weirwood tree was situated paled in comparison to the pulsing life that seemed to radiate from the godswood of Winterfell. The thick groves of trees and bushes and vines, interspersed with steaming pools bubbling up from the hot springs beneath the keep… she no longer held confusion over why Ned liked it so much here.
Was it sacreligious to imagine the two of them frolicking nude in the heated pools? Cersei didn't think so, smiling at the thought.
Dressed in his best leathers and fur cloak, Ned looked back at her. "Down, girl," he said with a smirk.
"What?" Cersei gave him an innocent glance. "I said nothing."
"I know what that smile means." He leaned into her ear and kissed it softly, making Cersei moan. "The children are present, so you must be a good lioness for me."
"I always am…" she whispered back, voice a throaty purr. "Only you know how bad of a lioness I can be." Watching him squirm a little, mouth set in a thin line as her words set him alight, Cersei grinned. Gods… this was wonderful. Better than even her dreams.
But Ned was right, the children were present. Duty came first over carnal pleasure. Long skirts - wool a thick northern style that showed her figure while keeping her warm, a mix of greys and golds showing both her marital house and birth house - brushing along the blades of grass that poked out from the snow, Cersei made her way to where Robb was standing. "Nervous, cub?"
He shook his head. "No." But it was clear that Robb was from how he trembled. "Momma, what if they hate me? I no look like a Stark." Even dressed in a miniature outfit of his father, with his wavy blonde hair and green eyes he looked like a perfect copy of his uncle Jaime. Her father had squashed the inevitable rumors that sprang up but they seethed under the surface regardless - and he wasn't in the North.
If they only knew the truth about I and Jaime. But Robb was Ned's, conceived through their love and legitimized through their marriage. Bending down, unafraid of the snow seeping through her dress, Cersei cupped his cheeks. "You are a Stark. You're your father's son and you shouldn't be afraid."
Biting his lip, Robb nodded but he was still nervous. Yet the other girl in his life wasn't. "Come Robb!" Dressed in an adorable white dress, red hair falling over her shoulders, Sansa grabbed his hand and tugged him to where their father waited by the heart tree. "Don't make old gods wait."
Giving one last look to his mother, Robb followed - his sister was as fiery as her hair. "You did this?"
"When I was wee," she replied. "But heart tree always kind. Go, brother." She kissed his cheek. Of all the residents of Winterfell, Sansa most enthusiastically accepted Robb. It was… the most wonderful of surprises.
Seeing his mother urge him forward, feeling Sansa's hands push him, Robb took a deep breath and stepped forward towards the haunting face of the heart tree. Just as his grandfather had taught him - strong and powerful, a wolf and a lion.
Watching her son, Cersei settled next to where Old Nan, Ser Rodrik, and Sansa were. In the old woman's arms was the young Rickard Stark. His red hair was beginning to curl slightly, the babe restless and squirming. "May I hold him?" she asked.
Ever since the moment with Hodor, Nan had regarded Cersei with a tenuous acceptance. But after a moment of surprise, she smiled warmly at her new Lady. "Of course."
Rickard nestling into her arms, just as Robb was all Lannister he was all Tully. That didn't make him any less Ned's, and Cersei would do her best to mother him just as she would Sansa. How could I hate anyone that came from my beloved Ned?
Her love had wrapped a hand around Robb's shoulder, guiding him to kneel before the heart tree just as he was. "Love you, pup," he murmured, kissing the crown of his son's head. Ned motioned for the boy to rest his head upon the trunk and hand on the thick root. This ritual was required for all those of House Stark and their blood, only conducted at the heart tree of Winterfell. No other would do, a fact which Ned carefully explained to Cersei when she suggested it done at Casterly Rock. He had, Lyanna and Benjen had, Sansa and Rickard had… and now, Robb would. His last journey to be a Stark under the sight of gods and men.
Looking back at Cersei, Ned gave her a brilliant smile which was returned. When explaining that her presence wasn't required as Catelyn's hadn't been for Sansa's, Cersei almost slapped him. 'Of course I'll be there, you idiot.' A kiss followed, and then… other things.
Gods, he loved her.
Drawing his sword, Ned knelt before the weirwood. "Old gods," he proclaimed, not alone and making sure all could hear him. His face was pressed into the cold Valyrian steel of the ancestral Stark blade. "I bring to you a direwolf of house Stark, born of the North with the blood of your chosen people in his veins."
Cersei, never one to be devout in anything as her father hadn't been, suddenly felt a pulse of energy. One she couldn't explain but left her shocked. The old gods? Beside her, Sansa had her eyes closed and a serene smile. She felt it too, but was sanguine about it.
Ned continued. "Robb Stark is your devoted servant, heir to my house and a northern warrior as strong and steadfast as his father and grandfather before him. Please bless him with happiness and a life worthy of his blood and nobility. On this I swear my fealty as Lord of Winterfell."
Suddenly, as it had with both Sansa and Rickard's ceremonies before, a single image formed in his mind. An older boy, tall and proud. Ice was in his hands, blonde hair streaked with grime and blood as he fought desperately in a nameless field of battle of the North. Above, a mighty dragon the color of sapphires roared, spitting dragonfire upon those that would challenge it. The golden warrior then bellowed, a direwolf emerging from the mist and following him into the fray...
As soon as the image appeared, it vanished. "Po… poppa?" Robb asked hesitantly, still trembling, but of an altogether different sort. "Is it… supposed to feel all… strange."
Still reeling from the vision, Ned nodded. "Aye. That means the old gods accepted you, my son." He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Come on, let us have a hearty supper with your mother and siblings." Ned helped Robb up, guiding him back to the twin smiles of Cersei and Sansa.
"He wasn't at supper," Cersei stated to Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin, peeking into the room. The boy was resting on the bed, back turned to the door - she couldn't tell if he was awake or not, and decided not to bother him. "Has he been like that for a while?"
"Aye," the master-at-arms stated. "Poor Squid, been either crying, moping, or tossing a ball at the wall."
"Has he eaten?"
"I've ordered food sent to him from the kitchens," Luwin remarked. "The trays are always empty."
Nodding, Cersei felt little for Theon Greyjoy. Sympathy for what Gregor Clegane did to his mother, anger at his family… but the boy was innocent of it. The future Lord of the Iron Islands - Rhaegar entrusted House Stark with raising him to break the Iron Way and that was what she would do. "He will no longer eat meals in his chambers, but make sure he's given decent but simple foods."
"Of course, my Lady."
"Ser Rodrik, you'll be in charge of his training. Make sure to eliminate any bitterness or arrogance." The knight bowed. Theon will be one of us, yet not too close so he grows arrogant. It's how her father raised Podrick Payne, though that lad's family was one Tywin was close to.
Needing to see her child before bed, Robb's chambers were empty. This momentary worry was alleviated when she heard giggles coming from Sansa's chambers. Smiling at the thought, it changed to a frown when she saw who was inside with the two Starks.
"...donning his boots, Uncle Kevan suddenly grimaced as something squelched within. He removed his feet and there were his socks all smeared in goat shi… doo doo." He may have been a naughty dwarf, but Tyrion Lannister never allowed himself to shatter the innocence of children.
Children could be innocent and right terrors at the same time.
Sansa nearly doubled over in giggles. "Was he mad?"
"Oh, supremely so. Never did find me though." He winked at the girl, which set her off again.
"N'cle Little the best at pranks!" Robb clasped his uncle's hand, which Tyrion shook firmly in their own form of greeting. "He even prank grandpoppa… no one messes with grandpoppa."
"When you pull the lion's tail, have to be ready for the teeth." He booped both wee pups' noses, making them giggle. "I'm extra little, so I have to be extra careful."
Sansa clapped her hands. "'Nother one, n'cle Little. 'Nother one!"
Striding in, Cersei had to put a stop to this abomination before it continued. "That's enough, children. It's past your bedtime."
"Hi momma!" Robb beamed.
"Hi Lady Cersei…" Sansa said, smiling but less enthused.
Something Cersei would inquire with, but first. "Tyrion, have you no shame?"
"What?" The Imp shrugged. "I'm keeping it clean, and no wine on me. I do say I'm being on my best behavior."
"And if the children put goat… doo-doo into someone's boots, what then?"
Tyrion smirked. "I should hope it's in someone who deserves it, like that Septa Mordane."
From the way Sansa's grey eyes grew alight at the suggestion, Cersei needed to end this. "No, I will not let you corrupt Sansa like you have Robb. Begone… do something useful and put Robb to bed."
Sighing, Tyrion pushed himself off Sansa's bed. "Alright, alright. Come along, nephew."
"I's coming." Robb stood and hugged Cersei. "Night momma."
"Goodnight, sweet cub." Cersei kissed his head and watched him leave before turning to Sansa. "Can I tuck you in, pup?"
Biting her lip, Sansa nodded. "Sure, Lady Cersei."
"You can call me stepmother if you wish, Sansa. I am married to your father."
"I know." The girl averted her gaze, but didn't flinch when Cersei sat next to her. "Robb say you with babe. Are you?"
A hand drifted to her belly, still reasonably flat but with a noticeable swell. "Aye, you're having a little brother or sister, Sansa." She raised an eyebrow. "Does it bother you? You seem to enjoy being with Robb."
"Just… I wanna sister." She blushed at Cersei's surprise. "I love Robb already and love babe Rickard… but I no have sister. I wanna little sister."
Chuckling, Cersei pinched Sansa's cheek. "Well, I shall do my best to make your wish come true, pup."
She smiled hesitantly before her face fell. "Don't send me south," Sansa murmured.
Cersei blinked. "Why would I do that?"
Sansa looked at her, tears welling in her eyes. "Momma was from south, and she said I go there. You from south… I like here. I no wanna go south, where wolves and dragons die."
"Listen, pup." Cersei cupped her cheek, looking into the grey eyes… same as Ned's. "Your father wants you to stay here lest you wish to go south, but only then to your Aunt Lya. Do you understand?" Sansa nodded. "I won't challenge his command nor do I want to, now come here." She hugged Sansa, giving her motherly comfort.
To her joy, Sansa accepted it.
"Shall he and I have children?"
"Seven children you shall have, all destined for greatness but the greatest not of your womb..."
Once Sansa had drifted off to sleep, all tucked in underneath the furs with her fiery hair spread out about her head like a halo, Cersei kissed her forehead and slowly snuck out of the room. Just as she closed the door, two hands gripped her waist. Yelping, her fear dimmed as it was Ned that spun her around. "Husband…"
He pressed her gently against the wall, slanting his mouth over hers. Cersei moaned and accepted the kiss - looping her arms around his neck. "I love you," he murmured against her lips.
She swore her heart gave a little catch. "I love you too…" Eventually, they pulled apart - breathless but happy. "What brought that on, my wolf?"
"When we met, everyone only spoke of your beauty but your temper. How you were the most spoilt of highborns." That made Cersei frown, but he stilled her with a finger against her lips. "I know not who you were before I laid my eyes upon your beautiful form, but ever since then you've proved those to be fools." How she settled in perfectly to Winterfell, a caring stepmother to Sansa and Rickard while slowly earning the respect of the household… gods, Ned's love for her grew by the day.
Cersei stared with a mystified look. "Since when did you become a poet?"
"Jon Arryn was always good with words. Picked it up from him," he chuckled sheepishly. Another kiss, this one gentler and sweeter. "Let's go to bed."
Her eyes darkened. "Aye, lets."
Hugging the harp to his chest, Jon beamed at his Elia. "Just like kepa's! Thank you, thank you!"
Elia kissed his cheek. "Now you can give all the maidens in the realm the gift of beautiful music as kepa does." She gave Rhaegar a smoldering look, one making no secrets that the only females he could ever sing in such a way to was her and Lya. Rhaegar only chuckled. "I love you."
"Love you too, muna." He kissed her cheek back, making Elia smile.
"Sing to me, Jon!" Dany called out, giggling. The gathered guests laughed merrily.
Prince Baelon's fourth nameday gathering was proceeding perfectly. Outside, seven days thanksgiving was decreed to mark both it and the victory over the Ironborn, and the sounds of the intense revelry could be heard. But no feast yet, that was on the morrow. Right now, only the exchanging of gifts within the family. Ben and Ash had given Jon a bearskin cloak so he could 'visit the North sooner rather than later.' Lyanna gave hers before the luncheon, a beautiful male foal of Winter and Moondancer that Jon proudly named 'Rogue' after the Rogue Prince. Aemon offered a tiny pin made of Valyrian steel. A pin with three dragon heads, to always show the world which house he belonged to. To all, Jon gave a smile and a tight embrace.
He loved his family and they him. Never once did the Crown Prince want for affection, and he was such a delight that no one felt he didn't deserve it.
The gift of a child's training longsword - styled just like Blackfyre - from the entire Kingsguard brotherhood was accepted with awe from the Prince. Just as was the gift of a second blade of the same make from his Aunt Dacey. "Considering that the Sword of the Morning shall teach him, best he have dual blades," she proclaimed.
Rolling his eyes as Dacey gave him a shit-eating grin, Arthur felt Barristan tap on his shoulder. "So, if you're clearly going to be his Grace's instructor, does that make you Dunk and he Egg?"
Arthur scowled. "Shut up."
"I suppose that makes Dacey Tanselle," Jaime snickered.
"I do make a mean puppet," replied the northern warrior, joining in. Arthur merely groaned to the amusement of his brothers and lover.
Holding his twin swords, Jon looked the picture of happiness. "Kepa." He tugged on his father's tunic.
Rhaegar watched his son. "Yes, Jon?"
He hefted the two swords… just strong enough to wield them without toppling over. "I hope I be as good as you when I older."
Ruffling the boy's hair, there was nothing more flattering and sweet than his own son thinking him on par with the god of war. Rhaegar felt his heart burst with love for Jon… hells, all his children. "You'll eclipse me, my boy." He picked Jon up and kissed his cheek. "I know it."
"Your Grace, if I may." Dressed in the reds and golds of his house, Tywin Lannister had greyed and weathered since he last wore the pin within the Red Keep, but not much else changed. Still the tall and powerful man as always, he motioned for Sandor Clegane to follow him. "I look at what happened in this keep during the war to be something that should never take place. No Crown Prince of the realm should have to worry at being undefended - even if he can defend himself."
"I defended Jon," Rhaenys said, defiant. Looking every inch a powerful Targaryen princess.
Tywin regarded her, impressed. Aye, she'll rule Harrenhal well. "You shouldn't have had to, Princess. Such is my point. Prince Baelon." Rhaegar having put him down, Jon watched Tywin, their eyes meeting. "My gift to you this nameday is a Sworn Sword, Sandor of House Clegane."
There were gasps. "Lord Tywin, is this wise?" Elia worried. "His brother."
"I'm not my fucking brother," growled the Hound… "My Queen." His vicious snarl at Elia made Rhaenys stare hatefully at him, as did Aegon and Daenerys.
"Your Grace, if I may… Sandor defended my daughter and grandson against Ironborn raiders. He is a capable warrior that will serve the Prince well." Elia was skeptical, but merely nodded. Eyes locked with Arthur, silently communicating the order to kill Sandor if he ever became a threat to Jon.
Sandor Clegane wasn't ignorant of how people stared at him. Children cried at his scars, just as adults blanched and looked away. Those with strong stomachs merely found him repulsive and threatening - and that included the Targaryen Princes and Princesses… little Daenerys especially. Sandor didn't care. He was used to it.
What he wasn't used to was how the Crown Prince stared at him. Not in disgust or to gawk, but in simple curiosity. "What?" the Hound belted out, adding a "Your Grace" at the end for good measure.
"You my new kingsguard?"
"I ain't a knight, little Prince."
"Then what are you?"
"Your Grace, he is your sworn sword," Tywin interjected, glaring at Sandor to behave. "He isn't a Kingsguard, he is yours personally to command."
"Oh…" Jon thought for a moment. "Will you teach me to fight?"
"No."
"But you my sworn sword."
"Trust me, little Prince. You can't keep up with me," he grunted.
"Says who?"
"Says me."
Jon blinked… "Well… I command you to say different," he said in his best impersonation of his father.
Sandor glanced down at him incredulously. "Well… you have spirit, kid. I'll give you that."
"I's a dragon," Jon proclaimed.
While the Hound and the Prince certainly made a sight to see, Lyanna cleared her throat to catch everyone's attention. "A little surprise for my beautiful son." She held up a package wrapped in waterproof animal hide. "Lord Stark, his uncle, managed to have his gift arrive on time aboard a Manderly trading vessel." Walking to her beloved son, she held it out for him. "From uncle Ned, with love."
"This should be good," Rhaenys grinned. Uncle Ned always sent the best gifts, ones that never ceased to make Rhaenys giggle and beam for days after receiving them… though never the direwolf she always wanted. The thought made her mope. Just a cute little direwolf. Why can't you make it happen, uncle?
Eager, Jon attacked the ties holding the animal hide cover together and quickly exposed the present. "A book!" he squealed. Like Lya, he loved books… but couldn't read yet. Aemon planned to start his lessons after his nameday and there was no doubt among them that he'd excel. "Read, muna. Read."
Smiling, Lyanna took the book… only for her to grumble something unintelligible. "What?" Elia was by her side, only to guffaw at the title. "Ned, you cheeky fellow. Didn't know you had it in ya'."
It wasn't long before Rhaegar and Benjen were cued in on the joke, laughing at Lyanna's expense. "I thought you'd be happy, Lya. It is your favorite book."
Shaking her head, Lyanna wanted to sock Ned on the nose. "It is, but he's just doing this to annoy me."
"What it about?" Jon called out. Wanting to get keyed in.
"It's about the Dance of Dragons, my son," Rhaegar informed him.
"Dragons!" He clapped his hands. "Dany, dragons!"
"Dragons! Dragons!" Dany clapped her hands as well. The two were obsessed, not that the family discouraged them.
Suppressing a chortle, Rhaegar discovered something within the book. "Um… my love, I think Ned left a note for you."
Lyanna took the note and read… Only to groan. "I hate him for this… oh no, Elia. You're not reading this…"
But Elia had already snatched it in her hand.
Lya
Now you'll know what it's like to be pestered about it for years on end.
Ned
She dissolved into laughter. "Oh, everyone is going to read this."
Letting his munas argue, Jon headed back to his pile of gifts where Dany and Artie waited for him. "Now we can spar together, Bae," Artie proclaimed. As a future contender for being the next Sword of the Morning, his father had gotten him twin blades moons ago for his own nameday. "The two of us. Run away, enemies!" The two boys banged their arms together at that.
Dany, frowning, thumped Jon's shoulder. "Owww, what's that for?"
"I wanna spar with you."
"Get a sword and you can, auntie."
Her eyes were set, determined. "I will." Her eyes shifted to Ser Jaime - if anyone would get one for him, it was her muna's man.
"Everyone, listen up!" The authoritative voice of Rhaella Targaryen broke through the various side conversations that broke out in the reception chamber. "As always, the best gift is saved for last." Her smile was wide and infectious, a draconic glint in her lavender eyes. "Come here, Prince Balon."
Jon looked up at his grandmother with innocent eyes. "Kessa, grandmother?" He learned long ago that the best way to please Rhaella Targaryen was to sprinkle Valyrian words into your conversations with her.
True as form, Rhaella's entire face brightened as she leaned down and gave Jon a kiss on the forehead. "You are the most wonderful little Prince, Baelon," she cooed, pinching his cheek. Many snickered as Jon yelped and tried to squirm away. "I think you'll find my gift the best, though they have been quite hard to top the others." Clapping her hands, she summoned two pairs of household guardsmen forward. "Careful with those. They're priceless."
Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Elia immediately recognized the chests being hefted into place in front of Jon. "Muna?" Rhaegar spoke. "Is he ready?"
"They all are," Rhaella replied. "Just that his nameday was first after when I decided it was time." Wordlessly, she opened the chests one by one. "Come on, Baelon."
Trotting forward, the Crown Prince's little eyes widened like saucers at the seven dragon eggs nestled within two chests of sand. Six from Aerys' clutch and the one rescued by Gerion Lannister from Old Valyria. Enough to provide the new generation of House Targaryen with the power of the future. "Here you are, grandson. For your nameday, you may pick one."
"Pick one?" Jon gazed at her and the eggs in awe.
"Dragons!" Dany chimed, giggling in excitement.
Rhaenys shook her head. "Lucky duck." She now couldn't wait for her own nameday to come up for such a gift.
"Aye, Baelon. One of them is yours." Rhaella motioned to the eggs. "Choose wisely, for the one you pick will be your bonded dragon for as long as you both live." A heady statement for the boy, but with the dragonblood burning hot in his veins, one he could easily make.
Biting his lip, Jon looked to his kepa, who only smiled and urged him forward. "You're ready, Baelon. Go for it."
"Maybe the lad's too scared of gettin' burnt," snorted the Hound, crossing his arms and earning hateful stares from Rhaella, the Queens, and Dany… Tywin just shook his head disapprovingly. "What?"
Taking a deep breath, Baelon felt a need to prove his worth to his new sworn sword. Walking forward, he ran his hands across the scaled surfaces of the eggs. They were all warm to the touch, something… alive within them. Emerald with purple streaks, pure gold with patches of grey, blue with gold specks, gleaming silver with blue swirls, burnt orange with red patches, radiant purple… All beautiful, but none calling to him…
'Baelon Targaryen…'
He stopped at the last one, a dark black with lines of red along the scales. Leaning over it, Jon rested both his hands atop the surface and began caressing the smooth egg. There was life, but it reacted to him. Jumping and twisting and frolicing within the stone cage. The heat was scorching, but Jon loved it. Felt… like a proper calm.
Making his decision, Jon pulled it up. "This one."
Rhaella raised her brow. "The big one?"
"Aye, the colors of our house… He be the biggest dragon since Balerion!" Jon proclaimed, hugging the egg close to him and pressing his cheek against the scales. "I love you, dragon," he murmured.
Laughing, Rhaegar hefted Jon into the air. "The Prince made his choice, and the biggest dragon it shall be!" He smacked a kiss upon Jon's cheek, everyone laughing as the poor boy blanched adorably at the contact.
A/N: Cersei's in Winterfell and Jon has his dragon egg. Ain't life grand?
Now we know where Tyrion gets it from. Def he's Tywin's son.
Next up, Cersei takes on Septa Mordane! Update in a week if I get 35 comments, and the update might come sooner if y'all check out my story Dragonshield :D
