#got angst

Valarr stood uselessly in the hallway at first, palms pressed flat against the wood as if he could feel you through it. The sounds from within were not like battle cries, nor courtly laughter, nor the weeping of petitioners. They were something rawer. Something that tore through him in slow, merciless strips.

“Your Grace,” A maester had said gently earlier that evening, “it is common for a first birth to be long.”

Long.

Valarr had fought in tourneys, he had ridden through storms and stood in council beside kings. He had believed himself patient.

But time was a cruelty he had never known until that night.

He pushed through the door at last, his feet feeling like lead.

You lay on the great bed, sheets tangled around your thighs, dark hair plastered to your damp temples. Candlelight trembled across your skin. You had always glowed in sunlight, golden, warm, the sort of beauty that made bards forget their rhymes. Now the light flickered uncertainly, as if unsure whether to stay lit.

Your eyes found him immediately, for how could you not instantly recognize your beloved.

There it was. That small, familiar smile, the one you reserved for him alone. It was faint, but it was there.

“Valarr,” you breathed.

He crossed the room in three strides and fell to his knees at your side. His hand wrapped around yours, careful and reverent. You squeezed back with as much strength as you could muster.

“I am here,” he said, voice cracking on the final word.

He had not wept when a many of his relatives died, he had not wept when his cousin fell in the lists, but his throat burned now, thick and unsteady.

Another wave seized you. Your body bowed against it. A cry tore from you that made him flinch as if struck.

He would have traded anything in that moment. His claim, his titles, the dragon banners. He would have thrown the Iron Throne itself into the sea if it meant you would not suffer any longer.

When the pain passed, you looked at him again, dazed and breathless.

“Do you remember,” you whispered, “the orchard at Summerhall?”

The question startled him. He let out a broken laugh. “Of course I do.”

It had been the first place you had kissed him. Apples half-ripe on the trees, bees lazy in the heat. You had scolded him for climbing too high, though he had been a prince and you only the daughter of a sworn lord. You had always scolded him when he acted foolish.

He leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours.

“You told me,” he murmured, “that love was not a lot of things.”

Your lips twitched.

“Not a crown,” you breathed. “Not a kingdom.”

Another contraction seized you before you could finish. Your grip on his hand tightened painfully.

The maester’s voice rose, the midwives moved in urgently, their skirts flowing. Valarr was gently pulled aside, but he refused to leave entirely. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching as if through a pane of glass, powerless.

Hours bled together, and your screams grew hoarse. Your strength slowly fading.

At some point, the maester’s expression changed. Valarr saw it. He recognized that look, the quiet gaze of loss.

He stepped forward sharply. “What is it?”

The maester hesitated. “The babe is large, Your Grace. And the princess-”

“Say it,” Valarr demanded.

“She weakens.”

The room seemed to tilt, and not in his favour.

You were drifting now, your voice thinner, your skin pale beneath the candlelight. When Valarr returned to your side, your gaze struggled to focus before settling on him again.

“Valarr,” you whispered, barely audible.

“I am here.”

“I am not afraid.”

The words struck him harder than any sword.

“Do not speak so,” he said fiercely. “You will live. We will-”

“Listen,” you interrupted, with a surprising thread of authority. You had always possessed that. Even when you were a girl with grass stains on your hem and laughter too loud for court.

You raised your trembling hand to his face. “He will be great, he must be,” you said softly, “please Valarr, you must take care of our boy.”

He did not understand at first, how you knew it was a boy was beyond his comprehension.

You said plenty of funny things. Sometimes they made sense, others not.

He recalled a memory.

It had been a jest once, something you had said in the orchard when he promised to love you until the end of days.

Not a lot, you had teased. Just forever.

He pressed his lips to your palm, desperate.

The maester gave a quiet command. The midwives shifted you.

And then a cry.

A son.

For one suspended heartbeat, the world was nothing but that sound.

The babe was lifted, red-faced and wailing. Valarr’s eyes snapped toward him instinctively, and then back to you.

You were too still.

“Maester,” Valarr said, voice low with warning.

The cloaked man did not answer immediately, his hands were busy. Too busy.

“Maester,” Valarr repeated, louder.

There was blood, so much blood. Your blood.

Valarr had seen men disemboweled. He had seen fields painted red after skirmishes. But this, this was wrong. This was sacred and terrible all at once.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, kneeling again. “Stay.”

Your eyes fluttered open once more. They were unfocused now, blurry.

“Is he…?” you breathed.

“A son,” Valarr choked. “Strong. Loud as a dragon.”

A faint smile ghosted across your lips.

“Good,” you whispered.

Your hand twitched in his. He clutched it tighter, as if he could anchor you to the world by force.

“I love you,” he said. It came out raw, unguarded. A boy’s confession, not a prince’s declaration.

You exhaled slowly.

“Forever,” you murmured.

And then-

Nothing.

The candles burned on.

The babe cried again, indignant at the cold air.

Valarr did not move.

He remained kneeling beside you long after the maester’s hands had stilled. Long after the midwives had wrapped your body in white linen.

Someone placed the child in his arms.

He took him automatically, as one accepts a blade or a burden.

The boy was small and furious and impossibly warm.

And he looked exactly like you.

The same pattern of his hair already curling damply against his scalp. The same stubborn line of brow. Even the shape of his mouth, the hint of that familiar smile that had undone Valarr from the beginning.

Valarr let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.

“You could not even leave me without haunting me,” he whispered.

The child quieted slightly, blinking up at him with unfocused eyes. Valarr pressed his forehead to the infant’s, trembling as he did.

“Aelor, your name.” he said hoarsely. “For the strength you stole from her.”

—

He did not sleep that night.

He sat beside your still form until dawn bled pink through the windows. The babe rested against his chest, tiny fist curled in the fabric of his tunic.

When the sun rose fully, Valarr stood.

The court would need to be told, his father. The king. The realm.

But for a moment longer, he allowed himself to be only a husband.

He brushed a lock of hair from your face.

“You had said not a lot,” he whispered. “Just forever.”

He swallowed hard. “How cruel of you wife. To make me bear it alone.”

—

The Red Keep draped itself in black within the week.

Bells had tolled, septons sang, and ladies wept into their embroidered sleeves.

Valarr did not cry in public. He couldn’t.

He stood beside your bier in the Great Sept, dressed in mourning colors, son cradled in his arms. The boy had your eyes, that same clear shade that caught the light like glass.

People whispered about it.

They said it was a blessing.

Valarr thought it a cruelty. A mockery from the gods.

At night, when the court had dispersed and the corridors fell silent, he would walk the nursery alone.

Aelor slept in a cradle carved with dragons, soft blankets tucked around him. The blankets you weaved.

Sometimes he would fuss, tiny brows knitting together in a familiar way.

Valarr would lift him carefully.

“You have her mouth,” he murmured one evening, tracing the air above the child’s face. “When you are displeased.”

The baby made a small, indignant sound. Valarr’s lips curved despite himself.

“I do not know how to do this,” he admitted quietly. “She was meant to teach me.”

He would sit by the window overlooking Blackwater Bay, rocking the child gently as moonlight spilled silver across the floor.

“You must forgive me,” he whispered into the downy hair. “If I falter as a father.”

—

The boy grew, and the days blurred into months.

He smiled early, a bright, sudden thing that stole the breath from everyone and Valarr’s lungs.

The first time it happened, Valarr froze mid-step. Aelor gurgled, tiny hands reaching toward him.

And there it was. Your smile.

Not exact, but close enough to make his vision blur with tears.

Valarr laughed then, a broken, startled sound.

“You wicked thing,” he said softly. “You knew what you were doing.”

He began to speak to you in the quiet hours.

Not aloud, not where others could hear, but in his mind. In the spaces between breaths.

He would recount Aelor’s progress as if writing letters you might somehow read.

He has your stubbornness. He hates the taste of lemon cakes, though the cooks insist other children adore them.

Silly boy? He sometimes reaches for the sun as if he means to catch it. When Aelor took his first steps, it was in the courtyard garden, his palms open to the sky.

Valarr had been kneeling on the grass, arms outstretched. The boy wobbled uncertainly between nursemaids before lunging forward.

He fell into Valarr’s chest with a delighted shriek.

Valarr held him tightly, pressing his face into the child’s hair.

“You would have laughed,” he murmured. “Gods, you would have laughed.”

The court watched him carefully in those years. They expected him to remarry as a proper heir would. After all one son was not enough, they wanted him to remarry and his new wife to pop out a spare.

They whispered of alliances and heirs and the necessity of queens.

Valarr listened, he nodded where appropriate. But he could never get himself to agree.

“Your son requires siblings,” one lord pressed gently.

“He requires his father,” Valarr replied coolly.

He would not bring another woman into the chambers where you had died.

He would not risk another grave draped in white.

And selfishly, desperately, he could not bear the thought of another smile that was not yours.

—

Aelor grew tall and bright-eyed.

He loved the training yard, he loved stories of dragons, he loved the sea.

He would sit on Valarr’s lap and demand tales of you.

“What was she like?” he asked once, solemn and curious.

Valarr studied his son’s face, the echo of yours staring back at him.

“She was brave,” he said first. “Braver than any knight.”

Aelor’s eyes widened. “Did she fight?”

“In her own way,” Valarr answered softly. “She loved fiercely. That is its own battle.”

The boy considered this gravely. “Did she love me?”

The question struck deep. Valarr cupped his son’s cheek.

“She loved you before you ever drew your first breath,” he said. “She knew you before anyone else.”

Aelor seemed satisfied with that. Valarr was not.

He often wondered what you would think of him now, grey threading through his dark hair, lines stating to carve at the corners of his eyes.

Would you scold him for brooding?

Would you laugh at how hopelessly he adored your son?

On seasons, he would return to the orchard at Summerhall.

He stood beneath the same apple trees, older and heavier with grief.

“I am still here,” he would whisper to the wind. “As you asked.”

The years did not soften the loss. They only shaped it.

Forever, it turned out, was not loud.

It was quiet moments. It was watching your son tilt his head exactly as you once had. It was catching the scent of apples in late summer and feeling his chest tighten.

It was loving someone who could no longer answer.

—

On Aelor’s sixteenth nameday, Valarr presented him with a sword forged in Dragonstone steel.

The boy, no longer truly a boy, accepted it with shining eyes.

“Will you watch me train today father?” he asked eagerly.

Valarr smiled faintly. “Always.”

As Aelor crossed the yard, sunlight caught in his dark hair. For a fleeting instant, Valarr saw you there, not as you had been in that terrible bed, but as you were in the orchard. Laughing and alive.

He exhaled slowly.

Not a lot.

Just forever.

And as his son lifted the blade and stepped into the ring, Valarr felt the ache settle into something almost bearable.

You were gone. But you were still here.

In every smile.

In every stubborn argument.

In the fierce, unyielding love that refused to diminish, no matter how many years passed.

Forever, he realized, had never meant endless days side by side.

It meant this.

Carrying you forward in the only way left.

Through the son who looked just like you.

Through the love that death had not managed to silence.

Through the quiet promise whispered beneath apple trees and kept, steadfastly, until his final breath.

AKOTSK.

BAELOR TARGARYEN,

idyllic, 🔞

his dear wife, 🔞

his daughter, 💧

modern!baelor headcanons, 🔞

unfruitful, 💧💋

craving - a series. 🔞💋💧 - ongoing.

southbound - a miniseries. 🔞💋💧 - ongoing.

MAEKAR TARGARYEN,

beauty, 💋

spirited, 💋

a full bed, 💋

rememberance, 💋

eager, 🔞

alone, 💧

just the tip? 🔞

sweet release, 🔞

the art of seduction, withholding. 💋🔞 (two part series)

beauty and the beast, 💋💧

mine, 🔞

69 with maekar, 🔞

MAEKAR & BAELOR TARGARYEN,

blissful, 🔞

AERION TARGARYEN,

dragons wife, 🔞

good boy, 🔞

DAERON TARGARYEN,

a change, 💋

restless, 🔞

VALARR TARGARYEN,

coming soon...

LYONEL BARATHEON,

love and beauty, 💋

riveting, 🔞

SER DUNCAN THE TALL, coming soon...

RAYMUN FOSSOWAY,

temptation, 🔞

BRYNDEN RIVERS,

DAEMON BLACKFYRE,

Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.

Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.

You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.

She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.

You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.

The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.

You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.

You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.

“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”

“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”

“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”

You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.

It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.

The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.

You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.

Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?

Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.

Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.

Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.

Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”

“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”

When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.

“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.

“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.

Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.

“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.

When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.

You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.

Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”

“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”

“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.

You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.

“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.

You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.

“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.

“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.

You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.

However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.

This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.

Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.

The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.

Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.

If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.

When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.

You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.

You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.

For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.

When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.

Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.

“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”

“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”

“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.

“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.

Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”

“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.

Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.

“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.

His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.

“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.

“Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”

“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “

“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.

“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.

“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”

playing with yourself

legs over your shoulders

masochism

corruption kink

Flashforward to the war, there were rumors that Rhaegar was killed by Robert Baratheon. The mad king was murdered by Jaime Lannister and the army of the Lannisters sacked the city.

“My lady, we have to go now. The King is dead and there are orders to kill you and the children” your handmaiden entered your room and locked it behind her. Luckily, there was a secret corridor that led to the sea, where a boat awaited you.

“Let’s go! It’s alright, you’re gonna be safe, I promise you” you kissed Aegon and Rhaenys’ forehead.

From the secret corridor, you took the children and stopped by Rhaella’s chambers.

“Your majesty, it’s time to go. King’s Landing has fallen” you informed her.

Unfortunately, she her water broke and she was about to have a baby girl; Daenerys.

“Your majesty, listen to me! You can’t have this child yet. If you do, they are going to kill it in front of you, then they will rape you and when they’re done, they will kill you. We need to move now! Just hold on a little longer” you wrapped her arm around your neck and helped her up and out of the chambers.

Your handmaiden took Viserys, Rhaenys and Aegon ahead of you.

When you reached the boat, you helped the queen on it first and started boarding the children, when three guards appeared.

“Kiyara take the children and leave, now!” You instructed your handmaiden.

“But my Lady-“.

“Do as I say now!” You kissed your children goodbye and as the guards tried to reach them, your Valyrian steel sword blocked their attack. “NOW!” You started fighting them and prevented the guards from reaching the children.

“Just three?” You asked.

“One can take you down” one of the guards said.

“If you’re so sure of yourself, why bring three? I’m the Warrior Queen. Who are you?”.

“I will be remembered as the knight who killed a queen” he smirked.

“Presumably you do live to see another day, do you think people will think that’s honorable. Three soldiers against a pregnant queen? I don’t know what’ll be more dishonoring that or that that queen defeated you and spared your life”.

“You are in no state to win” he looked at your belly and you looked down to see. You had been wounded when you tried to defend the children, but only now did you start to feel it. You feared that your nightmare has come true and that you’re losing your baby. You were so enraged, that you attacked them without thinking, tearing them limb from limb until two of them were dead and the third wounded and begging on the ground for you to spare his life.

“I would have, but you harmed by unborn baby and now I’m gonna rip your heart out with my bare hand” you knelt next to him and took his heart out from him to see before he died.

You may have one this fight, but you’ve lost the war. You lost everything. Your children were gone. Your husband was supposedly dead, the Lannister army control the city now and you were sure that you were losing the child you carried inside of you. You were badly injured and didn’t know what to do next. You lay on the sand next to the dead guards and waited for your death. Until you heard the bells.

A feeling inside of you told you that Rhaegar is still alive and is back with a bigger army.

You took your sword and went back to the city. Tywin Lannister saw you and because he knew he was losing, he wanted Rhaegar to lose as well. He took an arrow, lit it on fire and shot you in the stomach with it. Fire was surrounding your body, but luckily for you, you were wearing war clothes made of Valyrian Steel, so they didn’t melt, exposing your naked body to the world.

You took the arrow out and started bleeding again. You wanted Tywin’s head and you eventually got it.

“H-how?” He was surprised to see that you were immune to fire.

“You don’t have the time to find out” you slit his throat and ripped his head off.

Your army was winning the war and Rhaegar was searching for you, worried that you might have died.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He shouted in the streets of King’s Landing until he saw you from behind. He knew that outfit right away.

You turned to face him, blood all over you. Some of it yours, the rest of your enemies “Rhaegar” you muttered dropping your sword and collapsing on the ground.

—-

“Where are my children?” Was the first thing you asked once you woke up.

“They’re on their way home. You need to rest” Rhaegar placed his hand on yours.

“No, no! I need to see my children”.

“Y/n, you lost a lot of blood. You need to let your wounds heal”.

“You want to talk to me about wounds? How do I let my wounded heart heal? While, I was pregnant with your child, you were fucking Lyanna Stark. Then you dared to run away with her, leaving me and your children alone. Where were you when they sacked the city? Where were you when they almost killed your family? Your mother? Your brother? Your unborn sister? Your children? Me? You were too busy fucking her that your flesh and blood didn’t matter to you”.

“Y/n, I- I’m sorry”.

“Is that all you have to say? That you’re sorry? My baby is dead, isn’t he? His blood is on your hands, but mine as well, for staying here when I knew you’ve gone with her. How foolish of me!” You sat up and tried to leave the bed, but you were too weak to do so.

“Hey, hey, listen to me! It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I truly am. I will do anything to make it right again”.

“Can you bring me back my dead son? No, I thought so. I want you to leave! When the children are back. I’m going to take them away. Away from here, away from you. Away from the danger that surrounds you”.

“Y/n, don’t do this”.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t”.

“I- I love you”.

“That’s not even a reason to begin with”.

“I’m the king now! I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you”.

“You promised me that a long time ago, but look at us. How can you not let anyone hurt me, when you’ve been doing that all along?”.

“I won’t let you leave! You can’t take away my children from me!”.

“Your children? The same ones you left to die? Now you want to be their father? If it wasn’t for me, they would’ve died and me along with them, leaving you to return to nothing”.

“You need to rest. I will place guards in front of you chambers and a handmaiden and the healer will stay with you” he informed you.

“Are the guards for my protection or to prevent me from leaving?” You asked.

“Both” he admitted.

“I hate you!”.

—-

When Aegon and Rhaenys returned, Rhaegar immediately took them to your room escorted by Kiyara.

“Oh, my babies!” You sat yourself up and they ran towards you to hug you.

You winced from the pain but didn’t let them go.

“Alright. Children! It’s time to go, let your mother rest” Rhaegar instructed.

“No, I just got them back, I won’t lose them again”.

“They are safe here! Nothing will happen to them” Rhaegar reassured you.

“Liar!”.

“My lady” Kiyara bowed and greeted you.

“Kiyara! I’m glad to see you. You’re the only one I can trust in this place” you looked at Rhaegar.

“Then, she’ll stay with the children”.

—-

Days have passed and you were still locked in your chambers. The children would visit you every day, but Rhaegar didn’t let them stay that long. Finally, you have recovered and started walking normally again. Today was the day you’ll get out. You didn’t know what was happening outside those four walls that you confided in.

“I have brought you food” Kiyara entered your chambers and greeted you.

“I’m finally leaving” you expressed.

“About that…” Kiyara seemed uncomfortable.

“What is it, Kiyara?”.

“It- it’s nothing”.

“Everyone out of my chambers!” You ordered the others to leave “you can tell me now, what is it?”.

“It’s…”.

“You’re scaring me! Did something happen to the children?”.

“No. His majesty brought someone back with him” she informed you.

“Lyanna?”.

“Not just her. Aegon-“.

“What does Aegon have to do with it?”.

“He had a child with her a- and named him Aegon. I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t be surprised when you see them”.

“That monster! He dares bring his mistress and his bastard child to my residency. My city” you were so angry at him. After all, this was a sign of disrespect.

You got dressed and went to the chambers where Rhaegar was having a meeting.

“How dare you do that to me?! What kind of honorless man are you?” You barged into the room.

“Y/n, we can talk about this later. We’re discussing important things”.

“Don’t ever speak about importance again! I’ve had enough. I am leaving you and I’m taking the children with me” you threatened and he immediately ordered the men to get out and close the door behind them.

“What has gotten into you?” He held your upper arms.

“First, I lose my child because of you. Then, I’m confined in my chambers for weeks, only to find out it’s not because of me, but so you could have more fun with her. And now, you bring her and your bastard child here. Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to deserve this?” You crumbled in front of him and he knelt next to you.

“I don’t! I love you! I didn’t tell you before because I wanted you to heal properly and I knew if I told you, you would’ve collapsed again. She’s only here because of my son. He needs his mother. Once he’s old enough, she’ll go back to Winterfell. I do not love her. It was a mistake! But I will not abandon my son, the way I did with you and my other children. Give him a chance!”.

—-

At the beginning, you hated that baby so much and couldn’t bear to look at him. Whenever you were walking in the Red Keep, Lyanna wouldn’t come out of her chambers, but Rhaegar took the child out, for your children to familiarize with him.

With time, you have grown to love him. After all, he was innocent and wasn’t to blame for his parents’ sins. He was like the son you lost. That’s how you treated him, but you called him Jon.