#misguidedstorm

Since the first time you bled you were scared of marriage.

You could bear children now, which meant your father Maekar could marry you to whomever he pleased, to the best suitor. But you were a princess of the realm, you knew that titles and money told little about kindness and good character

You had seen loyal knights turn into beasts when they thought nobody was watching, or old sweet men from the most honorable of houses commit adultery with unwilling maids of the castles you frequented or the high court of King’s Landing.

But when Lyonel of the great House Baratheon appeared in your grandfather's court to ask for your hand in marriage, you felt your own principles waver.

He was tall, broad and handsome and heir to Storms End, meaning he was to become Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. You remembered the look on your grandfather’s -the king- face, looking silently for your opinion in the throne room. You were not yet convinced, so a week-long courtship ensued, at the Red Keep, under the watchful eyes of Daeron the Good, Baelor, and your father Maekar.

He passed every test put in front of him, he trained and defeated your uncle in the courtyard, he withstand the long dinners and the over the table dense conversations, he had the seal of approval of The King and a the Hand within three days, by the fourth, he made your own father laugh, truly laugh. You weren’t present at such a feat, it was long past the hours of propriety, but you had heard of it from three different men, even from your cousin Valarr who seems particularly impressed.

And to you, he was just the most dashing knight. He would walk with you in the gardens under your father’s watch, he would give you gifts on his house’s colours, beautiful necklaces and silks to fashion dresses… in yellow and black…

He would tell you stories and legends about House Baratheon and the Storm Kings, about his home in Storm's End, but most importantly, he would listen to you, about what you thought, about your life, about your home.

He was perfect

By week's end you had accepted his proposal.

By the fortnight's end, you had married him. The wedding was of a grand splendure, most of the great houses were there, the ceremony was celebrated by even the smallfolk chanting their adoration in the streets, the feast was spectacular, the party afterwards was the most fun, you danced with your husband all night, until your feet hurt.

You felt like the happiest princess alive. 

It was like a dream came true.

And at night, when the guests to the wedding had taken you to the chambers as they undressed you, you didn’t even feel nervous, you felt excited and giddy. And when you finally were alone with him, both stark naked, and in front of each other, mind and body idled with the soft buzz of the Arbour wine you served at the banquet, he held you in his arms, he kissed you gently and lovingly, he indeed you slowly, doing his best not to harm you and he succeeded. 

And as you cuddled with him in your bed, you thought you were a lucky woman. 

You travelled to Storm’s End with your husband, the journey took a whole fortnight, in which you slept together in a huge pavilion they set up every morning, or sometimes, when you managed to arrive in some towns, you would sleep in the great halls along the way.

You believed it was in the Bronzegate where he -between hard thrusts- told you he loved you for the first time

When he arrived at Storm’s End, the party continued, according to his words, he wanted all of Storm’s End to meet their new lady, so he threw a massive event and invited all his bannermen and the house of the nearby villages. 

Even though you both had separate quarters he insisted for you to stay with him every night. He would consummate the marriage every night without fail, he would hold you all night afterwards, he would care for your every need before you even voice it.

And then, the invitation to the Ashford tourney arrived, alongside the knowledge your whole family was attending the event. Lyonel couldn’t be more excited, like a child on his nameday. And he passed it onto you. 

But everything changed when you arrived at Ashford Meadow.

It was your first tourney as a married couple, and you saw a side of Lyonel that excited and intimidated you in equal measure.

The man was in his element, all smiles and big gestures. You finally discovered why they called him the laughing storm, he raised the longest pavilion there, he invited everyone around for a big feast the first night.

You proudly sat by his side as he wore that huge antler crown and you both drank until you felt like you could giggle the night away.

You had to admit you sometimes felt a bit embarrassed by his antics, but tonight you were as drunk as him, but even you could remember Ser Duncan the Tall.

The very next morning, you saw your brother jousting, you saw how he passed your husband’s tent, looking at the man with a grin on his face. you knew he could challenge your husband just to humiliate him, but you also knew he knew your husband would beat him, so he rode past him.

Instead challenge a lesser knight, and permanently damage him after killing your horse.

You knew your brother’s monstrous nature, that is why you weren’t truly surprised by the events that happened that night with the puppeteers. 

But what you were truly surprised, was the trial of seven

You couldn’t blame your husband for coming in rescue of the hedge night, Aegon, your baby brother had spoken to you and explained the situation, how he liked this man Ser Duncan, how he believed in him. And you knew Aerion, and how he was…

You knew your father’s prowess, he was not going to fall easily, neither was your husband, you still didn’t know how he convinced you it was a good idea, how everything was going to be alright.

It was the worst day of your life, but you knew your husband was not going to kill your father, you knew your husband was not going to die either, you had too. Besides, your uncle was fighting alongside him.

With tears in your eyes, because of your uncle’s Death, you helped the maester clean up your husband, you cleaned his wounds, and kissed his bruises, with his firm hands he grabbed your trembling ones and consoled you for the loss of the heir of the Iron Throne.

You woke up with your stomach twisted in nausea. You were barely able to reach some sort of pot and threw up in it. 

Perhaps it was the jitters from the night before, you turned to meet your husband, but he wasn’t there. You recalled that the night before he spoke of going to see Ser Duncan, see how he was fearing, so you paid little mind to it. 

Eleonora, your lady in waiting, came inside to help you dress for the day. 

You found yourself with mixed feelings, for you were relieved that your father was alright, as your husband… but… your uncle Baelor had lost his life, in the hands of his own brother. 

You still weren’t able to quantify what this would mean, not only for your family, but for the entire realm.

“Oh!”, you moaned, as she tightened the corset, your breasts were tender, it was an odd sensation

“I’m sorry my lady”, she offered softly, removing the guilty piece of clothing

“My breast hurt”, you whispered

“Maybe you are with child”, she said carefully, eying the pot where you threw up in. But you dismissed it, it was probably nothing. 

Once you were ready, you exited the tent, willing to go get something to eat, despite the theatrics of your poor stomach, you were famished. 

That is until a figure caught your attention. 

You saw Lyonel’s maester return from the riverbank, angry, whispering angry insults and walking by you like he was about to push you out of his way. It was very odd, to say the least. Perhaps he couldn’t help the hedge knight, but perhaps the royal maester who had come with your family to Ashford could. 

So you came to find him, and took him with you to meet Lyonel and Ser Duncan where his camp was.

It was a beautiful day

You knew you were in the right direction because you heard your husband’s boisterous voice from afar, you smiled at the thought of seeing him, he looked so handsome this morning. 

There he was… with his cape, you really hoped the limp would go away someday soon, you knew he enjoyed jousting a bit too much, and not being able to practice it would dwell terribly on him. 

When you were able to see him more clearly, you frowned as he turned to speak to the Hedge Knight who was laying against a tree. 

“You've done the realm a kindness. You'll see that one day. The only good dragon is a dead dragon”, he saw you, but too late, he saw you on the edge of his eye, he turned and looked at you.

You just stood there, frozen.

The Hedge knight laid there looking at the both of you like he was about to witness a murder

“What?”, you asked him. 

The only good dragon is a dead dragon

There was no way to misinterpret it.

He meant your uncle, he was referring to your family

The maester, old man as he was, clearly either didn’t care or hadn't listened and went straight towards Ser Duncan, but you just stood there, you just heard your husband talking treason.

“Wife…”, he said carefully, once he realized there was no mistake what he had said

He took a step towards you, grabbing onto his antlered cane, but you swore, in the second he took to make that movement, it looked like a weapon.

You gasp, taking a step back from him, even though there was at least 10 feet in between you.

You gathered the courage to look at his face, finally, and you didn’t like what you saw in it.

You turned and ran away from him, tears forming in your eyes, clouding your vision, you heard him behind you, cursing. 

You didn’t know what to do

You married this man

The only good dragon is a dead dragon

Is that why he joined the trial? He hoped to kill one of your family members?

Your uncle Baelor, the most honorable and joust member of your family, one would argue that the best of you, was dead, and Lyonel was relieved about it. 

You arrived at the tent under the look of everyone you crossed in your way, as you were now fully crying. But who could blame you? your uncle was dead, his funeral pyre was this afternoon… 

You didn’t know what to do, the only thing you did know is that you couldn’t be around Lyonel anymore, he wished your family dead, he collaborated in the deed… disguising it as chivalry and justice… as the defense of the innocent. 

You grabbed everything that belonged to you, everything you could and threw it inside one of your trunks, your cape, your dresses, your riding boots, all of it. Every time someone walked past the entrance to the tent you stopped and watched, but Lyonel didn't come.

When you made sure all your things were stored, you sat on the bed, defeated, like you just jousted yourself. You took a long, shaky breath, feeling your chest constricted, your hands instinctively went to your breasts, and you wined in pain, they had never hurt before, that you were sure off. Then, as he had planned it, Lyonel himself entered the tent.

But you were so tired, as life itself had been drained out of you, that you didn’t fight it, not one bit. 

“What I don’t understand is…”, you began, “if you think we are better off dead, why did you marry me?”, you asked him, voice cracked. “Why did you come to King’s Landing to ask for my hand in marriage?”

But he didn’t answer

“Why?”, you asked him again, tears streaming down your face, “Uncle Baelor was the best of us, he was going to be a great King and yet… you wish him dead”

“He was a fraud!”, he said loudly, exasperated, “he fought against men swore to protect him!”

“In defense of that man!”, you said, “to try and protect him from my brother…”

“You see? don’t you?”, he asked, “you hate your brother! he is sadistic and cruel…”

“He does not represent my entire family!”, you fought back, “not my father… of Daeron, or Baelor, or my cousin Valarr…”, you then stopped and looked at him, “or me”

“You are not a dragon anymore are you?”, he asked, as this whole thing was overreacted, “you are a doe now, a Baratheon”, he was not answering your question, he was evading. 

“Who is going to give you children with dragon blood…”, you interrupted yourself as you looked back at him wide-eyed. He just looked at you and he saw it, in your eyes

“If I wanted your family dead I could have done it, you know?”, he asked, “at least two of them”

“I remember my father’s maze on your face at least twice, not your sword on him”, you defended, he laughed, you stood up from the bed, but not wanting to escalate this further. Only then he noticed the trunks

“Your things…”, he tried, “what is happening?”, he asked carefully

“I do not wish to return to Storm’s End with you”, you said, voice cracking, not at all convincing. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but when he realized you weren’t kidding, he got really serious

“You don’t think I could… do something to you”, he didn’t dare ask the question, and your silence told him everything, “for the gods”, he whispered, not believing it, “you are my wife!”, he said, exasperated

“Yes and you just said that the only good Targaryens are dead Targaryens”, you whispered, he shook his head

“You are twisting my words”, he said firmly

“It’s exactly that”, you said sadly, he took a step towards you and before you could run, he grabbed you, ever so gently, his big hand cradled your cheek

“I would never harm you, you hear me?”, he asked severely, “you are my wife, and I will never touch you with anything but devotion and care”, he whispered, he leaned in, to kiss you, but you pulled away

“I have a funeral to attend”, you whispered. 

He did not make any indication to follow you to attend the funeral, so you just went without him. Valarr was unconsolable, and you couldn’t even think about your father and what he must be feeling… he was the one to give Baelor the blow that ended his life after all.

His own brother

He might be called Kinslayer, or certainly, whispers will deem him as such. 

After the pyre was extinguished, you followed your father and Aegon back to Ashford castle. You knew Lyonel intended to part Ashford right after the funeral, and the mere thought brought tears to your eyes, of being alone with her, of parting ways from your family. 

You sought an audience with your father, which was granted immediately, right before Ser Duncan. He clearly thought you wanted to say goodbye. 

“Papa, can I go back with you to Summerhall?”, you asked him, so quietly you doubted he could even hear you, but he did

“Why?”, he asked, frowning at you, “you are supposed to go to Storm’s End, with your husband”

“Yes… but…”, how do you tell your father your husband talked about treachery?, “with everything that has happened… I wish to be with my family”, you tried to explain, to lie, but his face, his unmovable face told you everything that you needed to know.

“You are to go with your family, your husband, to Storm’s End”, he said, and you just stood there. 

“Well, Aerion is gone, and after what happened with Uncle Baelor… I do not wish to leave you father”, you should have stopped, but at the sole mention of his deceased brother, his face turned

“What happened with your husband?”, he asked severely, you shook your head softly, “you are married now…”

“I know”, you said softly

“You made a vow…”, he said, “does that mean little to you?”, he asked, angry, he was twisting the whole thing. 

“No! I didn’t mean it like that…”, you tried to explain

“I don’t know how my own offspring would come out so disloyal”, he might as well slap you, it would have hurt less, “so unreliable”, he continued, “unworthy”

“Papa”, you called, like begging for mercy

“You could only hope your husband doesn’t know about your plans”, he snapped, “now go back to him”, he commanded, you just nodded solemnly at him.

“Yes father, I’m sorry”, you whispered brokenly. You wish to hug him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to beg him not to let you go.

But you couldn’t 

So you walked away from him, not really knowing if or when you were going to see him again.

Lyonel’s words returned to you as well

The only good dragon is a dead dragon

Why would he say something like that? King Daeron the good was one of the greatest Kings of your dynasty, everyone said so… Prince Baelor is… was… even a greater choice for the throne, in his hands, your family would have been at his highest… 

If he really thought that… then you wondered what his plans for you were… you wondered again why he married you in the first place.

When you returned, the great pavilion was being put away, Ashford itself seemed to be losing their clothes, you were not the only ones leaving. Your tent, though, still stood whole, the one you shared with Lyonel.

Only then you realized you had not bled since a fortnight before you married Lyonel, and its been three moons since that.

You were with child 

Most likely

Lyonel followed the servants who brought your things from the tent to the carriages, and as soon as he spotted you he stood there, looking at you, waiting for your next move.

You certainly couldn’t go back to Summerhall, you had to return to Storm’s End with him, your father was right, he was your husband. You had made a vow, you were his and he was yours, from this day to the end of your days. 

You took a long shaky breath

He didn’t wish for you to ride your own horse, you were to ride a carriage, so without a word, you climbed onto it.

Being locked inside a box for most of the day actually gave you time to think, and at night, when you stopped to sleep in a quick made up camp, you could not evade your husband much longer. 

You shared a bed on the tent, there was no more room, you climbed onto the bed while he had not returned yet, you hid under the cover the furthest you could from his side of the bed. You heard him come in and sigh loudly

“Wife”, he didn't even use your name, you guessed he didn’t like it. You closed your eyes even though he couldn't see your face, and hugged the pillow tightly. “I would never hurt you”, he whispered, the bed dipped under him, he moved until you felt his warm body behind yours. you tensed, coiling like a snake, he still surrounded your body with his arm, you still felt his breath on the side of your face. He kissed your cheek, he pulled you towards him.

“Lyonel”, you called

“I’m sorry about what I said”, he whispered, “you are mine now”, he kissed once more, and again, “I might not like your family, but I would never do anything to hurt them”, he continued

What choice did you have but to believe him and trust him?

His hand sneaked under the covers and cupped one of your breasts, you whined in displeasure. 

“What?”, he whispered

“They hurt”, you whispered

“Oh?”, he teased, “maybe my beautiful doe is carrying a fawn?”, his hand travelled to your belly and kept it there, its warmth making you tremble.

 “I’ll probably die in childbirth”, you said bitterly, “You’d like that”, you cried

“For the gods”, he released you like you burnt him, and sat on the bed away from you, “what do I have to do to prove to you… I fucking love you!”, he said, exasperated

He never said it out of bed, so hearing it like this was certainly surprising

“I cannot turn back time, and we are married for life… so we really should find a way to get past this”, he said with greeted teeth

“I cannot let go of the fact that you believe my family, the reigning family is better off dead”, you said wiping your tears

“Yes, I don’t like them, you know that half of Targaryen Kings were mad as fucking goats, the last one almost destroyed the country in half by provoking a succession crisis and a civil war!”, he said, “madness brought forth by the fact that your family married brothers and sisters for generations!”, he said angrily

“Then why the fuck did you married me?”, you asked him

“Your grandmother was a Dornish princess, your mother a Dayne, you are not insane”

“How do you know?”, you asked him, he smiled at you.

“The men might be lunatics, but certainly, the best things about the Targaryens are their women”, he said with a husky voice, “when I looked at you I knew it was over for me, you are the most beautiful woman in the Kingdoms”, you let out a sigh

He went for a kiss, even at a moment like this… he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. 

“You are going to fucking die one day, but after me…”, he teased

“Lyonel”, you whined, trying to get away from his grabby hands, but no such luck

“I’m going to die with eighty name days over me”, he whispered huskily, “after a long night of fucking my gorgeous dragon wife, my heart will finally gave out”

“Lyonel this isn’t funny”

“Then I’ll come back for you, ten years later, I’m going to be bored as hell so I’ll come back for you…”, he has surrounded you with his arms caressing your body, his mouth was searching for yours to kiss your lips, you wouldn’t let him so he’ll leave wet kisses all over your face. 

“I hate you!”, you cried

“I fucking love you”, he grunted against your ear, “I fucking love the fact that I get to have you, a dragon princess in my bed, and your are going to have my children”

“No”, you whined, he made you lay on the bed, him over you

“I’ll make a doe out of you yet”, he said, you spread your legs for him, it was almost automatic, you realized he still had this power over you. He has taught you the ways of pleasure… 

But he stopped, as he looked down on you, he lean in and kissed you softly

“I’m not going to have you like this”, he whispered against your lips, “I will earn your trust again, I fucking promise”, you didn’t say anything as you looked into his eyes.

You were not going to trust him, you didn’t know if you even could forgive him. 

But you were never truly going to know his true reasons about marrying you

Because both things could be true, he could love you, but also he could have married you for your blood.

For your blood and his.

For the Iron throne. 

“Congratulations, My Lady, you are with child”

Is not like you should be surprised, you feared as much since Ashford, but hearing it being confirmed wasn’t less shocking

“Thank you”, you whispered, your eyesight lost through the window.

You felt the old man’s gaze on you, like waiting for something, when you did not return the gaze or said anything else, he bowed and exited the room

He was surely going to tell Lyonel

As if you had predicted it, it came into the room like a storm, laughing and with open arms to find you and held you

“My sweet, darling doe”, he cooed, reaching you, “you have made me the happiest man of the seven kingdoms”. But you didn’t look at him either, you just turned on the bed, turning your back on him

“I’m tired, I wish to rest”, you said sadly. He stopped all movement and looked at you, you felt his deep gaze on your back, yet, you did not turn.

You heard him sigh instead

“My love”, he called, he had never called you that before, he sat by you on the bed, but you did not turn, “let’s celebrate”, he whispered, his warm hand on your shoulder, “I want to show every sad, miserable bastard on the land what true happiness looks like”, he said, caressing your shoulder. “I want to celebrate my wife, and my future child. Let's have a banquet, with your favorite meals, some that you can stomach, let’s organize a joust, a thousand dragons to the winner, what do you say?”, he tried

“I fear I cannot organize anything”, your voice was barely a whisper, it was a miracle that he heard you at all with the treacherous winds hitting the windows, “I’m still tired from the journey, my lord, I…”, you choked in the knot on your throat, but instead closed your eyes and deepened your breathing, in the hopes he could catch the message.

He did

“I love you”, he whispered, he leaned in and kissed the visible skin between your neck and shoulder, and then he left you alone, closing the door gently behind him.

You did not like these rooms, the rooms of the Lady of Storm’s End.

Since you came to Storm’s End, married, from King’s Landing, you had slept with Lyonel every night until the tourney, he had insisted on it, he had told you that he wanted to keep his lady wife warm and safe from the scary storms, that he had preferred it so.

So you never slept here until tonight.

It was true, you were terribly tired, and fell asleep quickly, laying your head on a pillow dampened in your tears. 

You don’t remember what you dream of that night, the only thing you felt was relief to be finally awake the very next morning, but it was short-lived, and nausea hit you again like knight against knight at the jousts. 

But this storm, you didn’t weather alone

The maester was on you in a second, brought you a tonic to soothe your stomach, and your new assigned ladies in waiting prepared you a massive spread of various foods, so you wouldn’t be hungry 

Once your stomach has been settled and full, only then you let them get you dressed. 

Although, that brought everything back

All your dresses were embroidered with dragons, and fashioned in dark fabrics of reds, blacks and dark purple (your favorite color), velvet, leather and thick materials, symbolizing a house, your house, that your husband hated.

You loved the sharp, elegant style of your house, now, you couldn’t stomach the sight of it, of thinking about what your husband would think

Part of you wanted to keep wearing them, to spite him, but the strongest part, the predominant, the one who had grown frightened of her own position, wanted to hide them and wear anything else, in the hopes of your own husband forgetting the house he hated and yours were one and the same, hoping he wouldn’t hate you. 

You raided the old closets of the ladies that had come before you. And found a muted gold one that didn’t look that outdated, with a squared, more modest cleavage, and embroidered with small flowers in the seams.

“We’ll have more dresses made for you, my lady”, Lady Barra said surely, “to adjust to your growing belly”, you smiled, pretending that was all to it… your growing body.

just as they were finished braiding your hair in the stormland fashion, your lord husband entered the room.

He seemed at a loss when he took your appearance in.

“My love”, he greeted, sounding unsure

“My Lord husband”, you answered dutifully

“Are you feeling well?”, he asked, you noticed that for once he seemed at a loss for words. “they have told me you managed to have breakfast”

“I did”, you said you yet again felt like a knot was crushing your throat, making you feel like if you spoke up, or even tried to, you were going to get choked by your own tears.

You felt sickly and pathetic

“I wanted to know…”, he started slowly, “if you wished to spend the day together, the both of us”, you only hoping he was not going to invite you sailing again, as you sneaked a peek at the window, and saw the unruly waves crashing against the rocks

The image of him pushing you overboard flashed in front of your eyes like lightning, leaving as soon as it came.

You were not convinced, and he saw that

“The day is not agreeable to outdoor activities”, he said quickly, “yet I’m sure there is much to do inside the castle walls”, he tried

He was still sporting the same wounds from the trial of seven, making his face look more severe, more serious… just like that day at the edge of the river, where you saw his true face and muttered those words had burned inside your mind

You've done the realm a kindness, you’ll see that one day…

The only good dragon is a dead dragon

The way he said, the look he had on his eyes when he did.

He looked twenty name days his own senior, beat up after the trial, the hate with which he spewed those words… Your uncle, heir to the throne Prince Baelor had just lost his life and he referred to him in such a despotic manner… 

He married you for power, perhaps

Yes he hated your family, but perhaps if they shall fall, he now had in his hands the very best next thing… Targaryen heirs, with the strength of House Baratheon. 

“I should not risk it”, you said then, making him look at you with such a sorrow, “I do not feel well enough to be parted from my chamber pot long enough”, you explained, averting his eyes, “I’m afraid that in this condition I’ll be of poor company”

“Poor company…?” He asked, but he got quiet when he noticed the other persons there, “as you wish, my love”, he relented, exiting the room. 

Now you had the perfect excuse… to not touch him, to not sleep next to him, to deny him of your company.

You started to believe it was the best course of action, honestly, if he hated your family so much you better stay clear of him, after all, you were doing your wifely duties, you were with his child.

You knew first hand the passion he held, you had enjoyed it the first months of your marriage, those first four months, were heavenly. it was a matter of time he found somewhere else to place them.

You didn’t know why the mere thought made you feel even more sick.

Perhaps because you cared deeply for him, despite everything, before Ashford you had loved him, you had cared for him and thought life by his side was going to be idílic…

Now not so much.

Lyonel kept seeking and you kept refusing…

.

And days turned to weeks, turned to moons

Despite your unwillingness to help, Lyonel went ahead and prepared a whole banquet, in honor of you and your unborn child. 

It is not that you were not in the mood for such foolery, but is the main reason for the event… You still did not have your child safely in your arms, he or she was still to be born, meaning there were a number of things that could happen… that could go wong

It felt bad to be celebrating an heir you currently did not have.

Begone where the morning sickness and the instability of your stomach, now you were as hungry as a horse after a long journey at all hours, your belly swelled with Lyonel’s heir comfortably inside, more than seven moons of gestation if Maester’s were to be believed… although, as said so by themselves… Baratheon babies were bigger than other babies.

Well, you sometimes found yourself hoping for a little girl just to spite your husband

Was he going to teach your sons to hate your family too?

You looked at him, he was standing at your side, a toothy smile on his face as he watched the party unfold in front of him in the great hall of Storm’s End, he finally turned to you

“My love, would you care to dance with me?”, asked Lyonel, offering you his hand, you looked at him, and placed your hand in your belly and shook your head softly, already tired of spewing the same lame excuse, that you felt too tired, or that your feet were sore.

This time, he didn’t hide his disappointment, he stood up anyways, directing himself to the furthest part of the hall to dance. Alone. 

In all honesty, you wanted to dance

It was strange, some days you felt like even getting dressed seemed too much work, and other you felt like sailing a huge battleship yourself against the storm.

This night was the latter

But as you looked around the room, at all those strange people, you just sat there, like moving would call the attention of vipers all around you. 

You felt like something was strangling you, like you couldn’t move, you felt that if you danced like you just discover you enjoyed, with your husband, they were going to judge you

Judge you, mock you, hate you

You wondered if everyone here hated your family as well

If they wished them dead

You couldn't take it anymore, you did not care if they saw you cry, you stood up as fast as you could, and you got out of the hall quickly.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you

Some moments you wanted to set the whole stronghold aflame, and the next you wanted to curl up and cry like a babe.

Somedays you even called for your mom, calling in whispers like prayers as if she could descend from the heavens and come to hold you tightly.

That was most days nowadays 

Others you wished to be in your chambers at Summerhall, that day your father asked you if you wished to attend your grandfather's big name day celebration

You wished you told him no, that you wished to stay at home, with your horses, and your friends and all your siblings

Including Aerion

You took off the dress they had made for you, of a dull colour, it posed great effort, due to your large belly, but you managed, dropping it to the floor, hating it, the colour, the fabric, all of it. You just laid down on the bed, hoping to sleep. Hoping for a dreamless night

. . . 

“If this child’s a boy, my wife will never let me touch her again”, Lyonel grunted, taking a big gulp of wine. The hour was late, the party was over, only he remained with a handful of his ‘friends’ or acquaintances

“If it is you can always use the excuse of needing a spare”, laughed his cousin, serving himself his own cup of wine, “and later, the need of a little girl ‘who looks like their beautiful mother’, works everytime”, he teased

“Right, if it’s a girl, you’ll need a boy, if it's a boy, you’ll need another”

“Repeat as necessary”, laughed another. That comment did not landed well with Lyonel, not at all

“What’s important…”, said a Lord from the Reach Lyonel couldn’t remember the name of right now, “...is that she does give you children, strong children with dragonblood, right?”, he tried, and he was losing his already short patience 

“I don’t know why you worry about, she is your lady wife, it is her job to keep her legs spread, to fuck and to birth…”, the bastard couldn’t even finish his disgusting phrase, one second he was sitting, his arms on the table, the next, he was in the air, feet dangling as Lyonel had grabbed him by the neck and raised him until their faces were in front of one another

“Finish that sentence… cunt”, he dared. He didn’t even get to answer, not that he could since he couldn't even breathe, “speak that way of her again, you bastard, and I’m going to drown you and your entire house”, he asked with greeted teeth, and threw him on the floor

He took out his knife and pointed it to each of his ‘friends’ there gathered

“The same goes to all of you cunts”, he threatened, “one more word and I’m going to make you wish to be sent to The Wall with those frozen handed bastards, to be dicked down relentlessly", he said. The men there just looked at him, surprised. “If I see you even looking in her general direction I’ll name you all heretics and burn you”, he said, and walked away from them

When he reached your chambers, he entered slowly, he found you asleep.

You looked so peaceful, so innocent and beautiful.

The mere thought of you with someone wretched like that miserable excuse of a lordling made his skin crawl with disgust, someone who could force his prick on you, even after you gave yourself to him willingly as you had done with him, even after giving him the joy of heirs. 

He felt a want to come back to the hall and drew his knife into his skull. 

But then he looked at you again… The thought of his child resting safely in your belly, tucked beneath your very ribs made his loins aflame with pride and a need of protection he had never felt before. You were showing and he melted at the sight of you.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He uncovered your form from the thick pelts and furs, and took you in his arms

“Lyonel”, you protested

“You are mine”, he only said. He carried you back to his chambers. “You are to sleep here, I COMMAND IT”, he said, dropping you gently on the bed 

“You cannot make me”, you said childishly

“Try and leave, I’ll just carry you back, my love”, he said simply, laying by your side, still dressed. 

“Please just don’t”, you said, voice choked, “Don’t call me that”

“Don’t what?”, he asked, looking at you, “you are my love”, he said, “I love you”

“Don’t lie”, you said in a whisper

“I do not jest with something like that!”, he protested, insulted

“I married you, I’m expecting your child, just, spare me from the cruelty of the lie, do that kindness to me”, you begged

“Do that kindness? CRUELTY?”, he asked, tripping over his own words, “do you think I tell you that I love you to deceive you?”, you curled on yourself, like protecting from his words

“I do not wish to fight”, you said, already defeated, “I’m sorry”

Lyonel watched you, not believing what he was seeing

You were broken, he had broken you, and he had no idea how to fix it.

“I love you woman”, he said, almost angrily, “nobody made me marry you, I was looking for a wife at your grandfather’s name day, and when I laid eyes on you, I knew it had to be you”

“You hate my family”, you whispered

“Yes, and even so, you made me change my mind with just a look in my direction”, he said, “I would never deceive you, I would never harm you”

Perhaps, but the damage was done and you didn’t believe there was something he could do to fix it. 

“But given the chance perhaps you’d act against my family”, you said bitterly, “I’m no fool, husband, I know that to every man that sat the throne there has been those who plan on his downfall… yet I never expected to be married to one of those men”, you said quietly.

He said nothing, he just looked at you

“That is why you married me, didn’t you?”, you pressed, you had some time to think about it, “there was Aeleora and me, she was just been married to her own brother, so there was only me available, a Targaryen princess, who could give you heirs, for when you plot my family’s demise, you were going to conveniently have at hand royal blood”

His silence was deafening

Your eyes filled with tears, only then he seemed to react, he crawled over the bed until he could hold you in his arms, you tried to fight it, but to no use. 

“Maybe I wanted to marry a Targaryen princess for leverage, alright?”, he said, “but I make this bow to you know, my wife, my love, the mother of my child, I will never act purposefully against your family”, he said with certainty, “because I love you”, he said it slowly, and he said with such certainty, it made you weep

“I’m scared”, you confessed, hiding our face in his chest

“I know my love”, he whispered against the crown of your head

“I’m confused”, you said also. “I hate you”

“Do you?”, he asked, defeated

“Because I love you”, you admitted, making him smile

“I will never harm you”, he promised, “I will always love you”

But it would be a lie to say he didn’t feel his loins aflame again at the feeling of you, trembling in his arms, his cock thickening at the thought of you scared of what he could do to your family. 

He felt powerful

He kissed you then, he searched for your mouth desperately, you had not let him touch you in months, he needed you.

He was about to start climbing walls or something… 

He could feel the doubt, your resistance, yet he made you yield with caresses and more kisses traveling from your mouth to your jaw and beneath, to your neck in that spot he knew it would make you finally break.

Your belly would not let him ravish you like he wished, but he laid you on your side with him behind you, so he had all of you at his disposal, he grabbed your full breasts, caressed your belly, and entered you slowly making you mewl .

He loved you so fucking much

To prove it he held you tightly as he fucked into you, wanting to tell you how much he had missed you, how much he needed you. Not only for the heirs that you could provide him, but as his partner, as his fucking wife.

The very next morning, and strangely so, he had business to attend.

There was a meeting, for the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, a special envoy from King’s Landing had come with important news he needed to hear. 

“Out with it”, he demanded, arriving at the Throne room where his men were gathered, “I left my wife naked in my bed…”

“King Daeron The good of House Targaryen, second of his name…”

“Yes I know who he is”, he said 

“... Is dead”, finished the Maester. Lyonel stopped in his tracks and looked at him

“What?”, he asked, the old man prepared himself to speak again but Lyonel shushed him, looking at the envoy who stood there trembling like a leaf 

“How?”, he asked

“The Spring sickness that is ravishing our fields has taken the life of the King, and of the Heir to the Throne, Prince Valarr Targaryen, and his brother, Prince Matarys”, he said. “The Lady Jena Dondarrion has perished also, although, Maesters do not believe it was because of the sickness, but because she couldn’t take the loss of her sons so soon after her husband’s passing"

Lyonel was tempted to laugh, and not because it was a laughing matter, but because of the absurdity of it all

The king died of a sickness, alongside Baelor Breakspear’s sons, his line was extinguished.

The disease… had wiped out half the royal family

“What about Prince Maekar?”, he asked shakily, “what about the second son… the…”

“Prince Aerys awaits his coronation in the safety of Dragonstone alongside his family, although we do not know how they are fairing… and Prince Maekar…”

“What? Prince Maekar what?”, he urged

“He left King’s Landing a couple of days before the King’s death, alongside Prince Daeron, claiming he felt ill and did not want to endanger the royal household… he went away to Summerhall, we have not heard of him since”. 

“Send someone to Summerhall”, he said to my maester, “to check on my good father, NOW”, he commanded, and the old man limped away in a hurry

He thought of you, of how delicate the relationship between the both of you were.

What on the seven heavens was he going to do with you? How could he tell you that half your family was dead?

How could he tell you that what you feared most and what he had wished for was turning to reality?

You made him change his mind, now he feared the repercussions of this, he feared for your health and your love. 

. . .

You didn't even know why you went for your trunk.

Perhaps nostalgia 

You opened the one you had brought with you from your rooms in Summerhall, it held your favorite dresses in the color of your house. Nothing too extravagant, those you liked to wear for comfort in your home. You were tempted to wear it, despite what Lyonel might think. You had spent the last few days thinking about your house, about your family, how much you missed them.

When you reached the bottom, you saw a little dress you had worn when you were a child, you had packed it as well, when you took it out, a wooden toy fell down. A little carved dragon, your favorite from when you were little, it was fashioned after the Black Dread himself, it was painted black with red markings, it held two wings and chubby legs, the edges were rounded, making it less intimidating and dangerous for a baby to nibble at.

It was beautiful

You had brought it with you because you believed you could put it in your own babe’s cradle. 

Now you believed you had to hide it from your husband

After all, the only good dragon was a dead one. 

You closed your eyes and searched for strength, you wanted to put everything behind you, for the 7 gods you did. You wish you never went to that stupid river bank, you wished you had taken longer to arrive there, you wished you had called your husband name as soon as you saw him so he never muttered those words

A small kick grounded you, made you smile. 

And then another made you grunt. 

“Alright, you are awake”, you believe to be squishing the poor child, kneeling on the cold floor, so you stood up, hand trying to soothe your belly.

“Are you a Stag…?”, you asked, as if he could answer, “or a Dragon…?”, then you felt another kick, making you smile. “I knew it”, you whispered. Maybe, if you were there to raise him, you could make a difference, this child might be called a Baratheon, but fire and blood was thicker than seed and storm water

You sat by the window, watching the rainy day. One hand caressing your belly and the other holding your toy.

“Hae mērot gierūli”, you sang softly, “Se hāros bartossi…”, your child got calmer, stopped kicking, “ao hae bona, zaldrītsos?” [You like that, little dragon?], “Prūmȳsa sōvīli… Gevī dāerī”

You saw something moving in the edge of your vision, when you turned you saw Lyonel on the doorway of the door your forgot to close

He was looking at you with a strange look on his eyes, that you had never seen before. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was adoration…

“Oh I’m sorry I…”, you said, hiding the toy between you and the window, “... should learn some Andal songs for children, I shouldn’ sing that”

“Did your mom sing that to you?”, he asked, besotted with the image 

“My father, actually”, you whispered, he only hummed, “he is the one I’d wake up when I had a nightmare, or was scared and couldn’t sleep”, you explained, your hand caressing your belly, your baby had grown quiet

“Why your father? he doesn’t struck me as the kid to entertain childish nightmares…”, he offered

“Well, he was the one with the maze”, you said with a chuckle, “he wasn’t always like this, he would get up from the bed and patiently check behind every door, and every window…”, you said, “he would come back to my room and sing to me in High Valyrian”, you said in a whisper, "he would promise me he would always protect me”, you said then. “then he would stay, until he made sure I was asleep, only then he would come back to my mom”

“Then… in the hopes of our child growing up like you, I’ll be the one to get up with him, to check every door and window of the castle”, he said, you looked at him wide eyed, “although, I fear that when I start singing I’d not only wake the rest but rather annoy him into kicking me out of the room”, he said with a chuckle

Lies, you thought, but you just smiled at him, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes

‘Has something happened?”, you asked, he cleared his throat, “you seem… troubled”, you offered

The first time Lyonel Baratheon saw you… 

Well…

He can’t remember the very first time he laid eyes on you

He had memories with you by his side since he could remember them 

Your father was a liege Lord to his father, one he enjoyed the company of, so your family lived at court at Storm’s End, even your mothers were friends, you as much as shared a crib with one another.

You, even though you were supposed to be a delicate lady, grew up with Lyonel, brutish and carefree, with scraped knees and the mouth of a sailor, playing in the courtyards under the rain, training with him, raiding with him, stealing cakes from the kitchens with him, sneaking into his rooms at night, so you could sleep curled up together like two kittens, whispering about the great knight he was going to become, how you wanted to be in each one of his tourneys, cheering him on.

You were his best friend, his ally in his mischiefs, the baby sister he never had

But nobody escapes time, and as years went by, you could no longer follow him to hunt rabbits in the woods near Storm’s End, or sneak into his rooms.

You had tutors, but now you had a Septa and a Mistress Anne, who would give you personal lessons on embroidery and proper conduct. 

He remembered the anger he had the day his father had to tell him you were not going to be by his side anymore during his lessons. He was supposed to take sword training, and you embroidery, he was supposed to be learning politics, while you became his mother's companion to learn how to manage a whole household, a whole castle and everyone on it. 

He took philosophy, and you poetry.

He went hunting, and you went to elaborate tea parties with other ladies

He could not sneak into your rooms anymore, nor you to his.

But the foundations were already placed

Or at least that is what your parents believed

Lyonel was the second son, he had two brothers, one older and one younger, so his parents indulged him mostly, as he was not the heir to Storm’s End

He wanted to become a knight and they gave everything for him to accomplish that dream. 

That is why they sent him with his elder brother in support of the Targaryen princes in the first Blackfire rebellion.

He came back as a knight and as heir to Storm’s End, without a brother, but with tales of conquest and the heat of battle.

He remembered that the only thing he wanted to do when he came back to court was to see you, to tell you all about his glories, about the battles, about the first man he struck down and the ones that followed, about the maidens he had deflowered, about the one who deflowered him. About the exhilarating life that was beyond the Storm Lands. 

He left a boy and returned a man

With a boisterous laugh and as tempestuous as a storm

But he returned to find you as Storm’s End was… steady, strong, always there, always the same. 

It was not a bad thing, it was quite a good thing

You were his home

But he had tasted freedom, he had tasted glory, and the huge world that lay over the wall and it was the only thing he thought about. 

But when he came back, you were both seven and ten, and people, especially your parents, started to… expect things from him. There were not even explicit words, just gestures. He once remembered the look on your face as you looked at him, wide eyed, those eyes of yours who seem to truly see him.

But not this time

There was this tyroshi woman who had come to Storms End, her family had some dealings with his father. He had sneaked with her into the gardens where she came onto him. He was speaking about it with you, about how different the traditions were, how she was the one to kiss him, how on the other side of the narrow sea was different. 

He should have known back then, that something in your eyes just changed, shifted, perhaps died. 

And just when he planned on taking off, of going on his own adventures, only him, a group of his most trusted men, a Baratheon ship…. His parents, for the first time, stopped him, forbidding him from leaving the seat he was now the heir of.

And you…

You got married

They married you quickly, he didn’t even knew about it

One afternoon you just walked up to him, told him you were to leave for Claw Island the very next day.

He didn’t understood

Anything

He didn’t know you were betrothed, he didn’t know you wished to marry this lord, why wouldn’t you tell him? 

He just remembered the longing in your eyes when you told him that afternoon in the gardens, the pauses you’d make

“I’ll leave tomorrow at sundown, when the sea is quieter, for Claw Island…”, when he didn’t say anything you continued, “He is the heir of House Celtigar, my father said yes, since….”

“Since when?”, he asked, feeling deeply betrayed

“Since… nobody else will marry me”, you said quietly, perhaps wishing he didn’t hear

He understand less of it

Who wouldn’t wish to marry you?

You were barely eighteen, for the gods’ sake 

You looked at him, as you held his hands, you looked up at him with those eyes… and he didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. 

He didn’t do anything…. and the very next day, he saw your ship sailing away, from the battlements of Storm’s End.

It was a magnificent afternoon, the sea looked like a cup of still water, a day who had not been seen in the last hundred summers. 

The next time he saw you…

It was fifteen years later.

He didn’t even see it coming, many things had happened in the last decade. He had become the Lord of Storm’s End when his parent’s vessel tragically crashed against the rocks in a storm when they were coming back from Tarth.

He had married a docile, sweet girl from the reach

Had two children, who were growing like weeds. 

He threw a big celebration to celebrate the first year of his youngest son. And it would have been a boisterous celebration, filled with joy and happiness…. If it weren’t for the fact that his wife had passed given birth to him. 

He had made a promise to his late wife, so he laughed loudly when his son babbled something incoherent, slapping the table making the chalices rattle. 

He was of course sitting on his lap, his little guest of honor, his joy, and his pride sitting near, at his left side, his oldest boy of three years, 

“What’s that my boy?”, he asked loudly, “excited for the jousting?”lords around him laughed as his son giggled. His dark black curls bouncing on his little head. But today was barely the beginning of the celebrations. Today was the day all knights and lords arrived from all corners of the seven Kingdoms… he heard even the Targaryen princes might show up, he wished they didn’t honestly, he wanted this to be more.. informal… affair, but he couldn’t turn them down if they did show up.

“Lord Raymund Caswell from Bitterbridge", presented a soldier, and Lyonel waved the man with his hand

“Yes I know who he is, help him settle, make him join the feast”, he said, already bored, he wanted to start the dancing already.

“Lady (y/n) of House Connington”

No, it couldn’t be, his eyes got glued to those double doors, he grabbed his son as stood up from the table, and through them… appeared you… a vision.

You looked nothing like the last time he saw you.

You left a girl, and you stood a grown woman in front of him

Hair braided perfectly, dressed in a rich dress in the colours of the sea with golden design, decorated with pearls. a squared cut that revealed just enough, even more three strings of pearls decorating your neck with golden sea creatures dangling from it. You were looking exquisite

You looked like the wife of a rich pirate, and he guessed, that is what you were, you had married a Celtigar.

“My Lord”, he didn’t even noticed you had arrived and you were looking at him with a soft smile on your face

“My lady”, he barely said, hypnotized by your grown beauty, “Long time no see”, he managed to say, finally smiling at you

He couldn’t believe it was you

His soulmate, his best friend from all those years ago, the one he grew up with. 

“I hope your invitation extended tot he Narrow sea”, you said with a wide, beautiful smile

“It does”, he said.

Right now, everything around him seems to disappear, and there was only you and him, and his sons in this new world, the only people that mattered to him.

“I came for…”

‘Me’ he said to himself

“...This sweet boy” you continued, your gaze travelling to his son he held in his arms. Even though the table separated you, you walked towards him with all naturality, like all these years didn't go by, like you were still that girl that sneaked into his room. “I brought him a gift”, you informed him, “if it’s not too forwards”, you said looking at him

“Of course it's not”, he said

He was spellbound by you, looking at you like you were an apparition, while you took a wooden sea horse and showed it to his son who giggled, pleased at the offering..

“Sit by my side”, he demanded, slowly gathering his bearings

“I’m sure your lady wife…”

“She is…. gone”, he said quickly.

The world around them seemed to spin on, as the hall kept filling with more and more people, the music started playing, and now that you were by his side, everything seemed alright again.

“It’s been fifteen years”, he said as you sat by his side, you had started playing with his son. 

“I know, time flies”, you said with a wide smile

“What… how… have you been?”, you finally seemed to look at him

“Can’t I return home?”, you asked him

“Of course you can”, he said, “is your husband with you?”, he asked

“My husband passed from Dysentery a year ago”, you said lightly

“What??”, he asked

“It seems like we both were misfortuned”, you said sadly, your eyes again on Steffon. “Well, you did manage to have children”, you said sadly, and it took his breath away, you then looked over to his other son, who was entertained by his nanny, “and who's this handsome fella?”, you asked 

“That’s Ormund”, he said with a soft smile

“Hello Ormund”, the boy smiled at you and then kept his attention elsewhere

“He is a man of few words, my son”, he said lightly, he filled your cup of wine, he made sure you had everything you wished to eat at your disposal, he 

“I can't believe you are here”, he said with a soft smile

“Me neither”, you admitted, “now that I find myself alone, after all those years”

“Was it a happy marriage?”, he asked

“It was”, you admitted, “we were both terribly young but he meant well, he took me with him on his journeys”

“He did?”, he asked, interested

“He did, we went all over the Free Cities, even to Braavos, once we even went all the way to Lannistport”, you told him with a wide smile, “we stopped by every port in Dorne… Ashford…”

“So you did all the things I wanted to do””, he chuckled, pleased, this way, he somehow could live this things through you

“Yes is… strange now that you think about it”, you admitted. Lyonel looked at you again and found a woman who had lived a hundred lives and somehow had settled so elegantly into one it took his breath away. He felt like he was dreaming. “Yes after spending all those years in Storm’s End, I truly felt like I was going to spend all my life here”

“No you didn’t”, he laughed dismissively, taking a sip of his cup of wine.

As you talked about your adventures, the nannies had taken the children, the feast had settled and people were becoming loud with wine, but he did not care to participate in any other conversation, nor look at any other who wasn’t you. 

“I did, but when nobody here wanted to marry me, my father…”

“Who wouldn’t have married you?”, he chuckled, interrupting you

“You”, you said firmly, he stopped all movements and looked at you wide-eyed

“What?”, he asked

“You wouldn’t have married me”, you said, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone. “I was practically raised for you, and you wouldn’t marry me”, you said lightly

“I would never….”, he interrupted himself because he didn’t know what to say

Because it would never cross his mind. Back then.

Only when he started missing you he wished he had married you, in time, when he himself got betrothed, with a woman he didn’t know. When he put off the engagement for years to come. But back at the moment when you told them they were sending you away… it would have never crossed his mind.

His mind was elsewhere

“And you…?”, he asked, suddenly brought to the past, “would you have married me?”, he asked, fearful of the answer, you looked at him with big shiny eyes

“When you left for the war, I… I was here waiting for you”, you whispered sadly, “my parents believed you were going to come back from the war as a man and then they were going to betrothe us”, you said, “and I couldn’t be happier”

Lyonel swore right then he could feel something crack inside of his chest

“I prayed for your safe return every day… at the Sept… for you to come back to me”

“But you don’t pray”, he whispered, you only smiled

“I did then”, you said, and he knew, you were being truthful, “but when you did return… you came talking about battles and other women… and as the heir…”

“But…”, he felt as if a bucket filled with ice was thrown over his head.

“You had become the heir and my family was not as important… not as powerful to mean a truly great match and a strong alliance, so when your own parents saw you did not want to get married to me… they just didn’t force you”, you said simply

“Nobody ever asked me”, he defended childishly

“We all wanted you to choose”, you said sadly, “to choose… me”, he whimpered, graving onto the arms of his chair way too tightly, until his muscles physically pained him. “the day I went to you, to tell you I was getting married I was hoping you’d say something”, you confessed, "I was hoping you’d step up and prevent me from leaving, but you didn’t do anything”, the odd thing is that you look like a woman who had… moved passed this, you were telling this life-shakening news like a light story that someone else told you.

“I never thought that I was something you would have chosen for yourself”, he said finally

“I loved you Lyonel”, you admitted, “I wanted to spend every day of my life by your side, I was practically made for you”, you said, again, with that light tone that confused him into thinking this was not the life altering conversation it truly was. 

You were made for me

Is the only thing resounding on Lyonel’s mind

“Now tell me about you!”, you insisted, “even in Claw Island we heard stories about the Laughing Storm”, you teased.

“I married Betha five years ago, she passed away exactly one year ago given birth to this little one”, he whispered, “I have been… jousting and fighting when I can”, he said, in all honestly, his life had been a wheel that spinned and spinned with no way of stopping after his parents passed away.

He had decided to throw this massive celebration to celebrate his son, to drink and to dance, instead he spent all night talking to you, and he believes he wouldn’t do anything else in this entire world.

He wanted to spend the night with you, to held you in his arms and fuck you like he should have all those years ago. But he couldn’t, you were his friend and a Lady and he hadn't seen you in fifteen years. 

So he put you in the best room and placed a soldier on your door.

A soldier that came to fetch him in the early morning

“The Lady Connington is leaving, My Lord”

“What?” He jumped from the bed.

He found you on the stone passage that went from the castle, to the port, a beautiful sunrise

“You can’t leave!”, he said, “a storm is coming in”, he said quickly, you only smile

“That doesn’t stop my crew”, you said, but this time, your smile was sad, “I’m going back to Claw island”

“Your husband died, you have no children”, he said, “why go back there?”

“Still, they love me, they want me to stay at court with them, help the new green marriage care for the castle, for the people”

“Fuck the claw island people”, he said quickly. 

“I shouldn’t have come back”, you said slowly

“Why? this is your home”

“I thought I move past this, past you, but I didn’t”, you explained

He was not going to let you leave him again.

This time, he knew

He grabbed you, gently, yet firm, because this time, he meant it

“Good, because you are not going anywhere”, he said with a big smile, you turned to look at him, wide eyed,

“What?”

“You are not going, I’m not losing you again” 

“Lyonel”

“Marry me”, he said, “I was a bitchy green boy then, but I am a man now, and I want to marry you, like I never wanted anything in my life”

“I…”

“Say yes”, he said

“Yes”, you said with a wide smile, he smiled back, and kissed you, he grabbed onto you like he was afraid you were going to disappear. 

You also knew that as a Targaryen woman, getting married was some sort of death sentence.

Either fragile in mind or in body, you had discovered that the women in your family did not fair very well. Or the ones married to it. 

As you looked at yourself all ready for your wedding, you realized that it was very probable you’ll die in childbirth, like your mother did when birthing Rhae, or like your uncle's wife, her and her third babe… or like your grandmother.

Did nobody notice? Did nobody care?

You weren’t religious enough to take the seven, and you were of a strong mind, so there was no excuse for you to avoid this marriage. In fact, your future husband was already awaiting you in the Sept, and you were probably running late.

You looked at yourself one last time

It wasn’t a grand spectacle, not after the passing of your uncle Baelor by the hand of his own brother. They had chosen for you a beautiful golden gown, beautifully sewed with intricate designs in black, the shape made your bosom tight and perfect, the cut was squared in your chest and the sleeves as grand as the tail. Your silver hair was decorated with intricate braids that still let half of it down gracefully down your back, and arranged a golden circlet around your head.

You barely nodded and exited your room accompanied by your ladies, who walked with you towards the small sept your family had built alongside the castle. 

Your father was expecting you just outside the big doors, alongside his royal guard in the beautiful garden leading to it. 

“You look beautiful,” Maekar the Anvil Targaryen said as he received you. In his hands he held a velvet cape, it had a black background and had a beautiful golden dragon embroidered in it, with red flames and design. He placed it over your shoulders, with a severe look on his face. “Your sisters had it constructed for you”, he said, not liking the idea. 

“Thank you Father”, you managed to say above the lump in your throat. You were so nervous it was a miracle you could hide your shaking from his discerning eyes. 

“Now let's get you married”. he positioned himself at your side, offering you his arm which you gladly took. The doors of the sept opened in front of the both of you, royal soldiers on each side of them. 

“Father, I’m scared” you whispered, grasping into his arm so tightly he groaned. In front of you and down the steps, where all waiting for you, at the left side, your family, your cousin Valarr in representation of the crown, they all wore red and black gowns, a high contrast against the other side of the aisle, the one from your husband, they there stood all dressed in gold, and some green as the Tyrells were also invited to the event. 

“Enough of that”, he said back, that was Maekar Targaryen’s comfort for you. He as much as pulled you to begin the walk towards your future husband. 

There he stood, at the end, by the Septon, he looked incredibly dashing, his curls combed, his beard perfectly trimmed, he wore the proudest smile you had ever seen on his face, and he was dressed all in a beautifully shaded gold, with the proud stag over his chest. Your eyes didn’t split from him, drawing him more clearly with each step.

He wore magnificent jewelry for the occasion as well, but he remained himself, using some leather black pants as a reminder of his true essence. 

Only as you were in the middle of the walk you gazed upon your sisters, who wore big smiles. Daella watched your betrothed and then you with heated cheeks. He was a handsome man and everyone could see it. 

Your father took you slow but at a steady pace, you believed that so everyone could see you clearly, his daughter, marrying into the great house Baratheon, and then he helped you up the steps where you stood in front of the High Septon, and besides your husband. 

The two men towered over you, your husband specially, that didn’t take long to take one step towards you so he was really near you. 

“Here is my daughter, take good care of her, or you’ll discover why they call me the anvil you cunt”, you opened your eyes widely at the threat as you looked at your father. The Septon’s smile dropped like a bag of stones and Lyonel let out a laugh. Nobody else seemed to hear it though. 

“Father!”, you whispered. 

“I shall guard her with my life”, said Lyonel with even a wider smile. 

“Y-you may place the bride under your protection” indicated the Septon, recuperating from the shock. Your father retrieved the cloak from over your shoulders, kissing you swiftly on the cheek, to go down the steps and stand at the side of Prince Valarr and Aerion Shitflame. And Lyonel stepped up to place his own instead. It was of course gold, you managed to see the proud stag opposite a doe in the dark silky thread

“Your Grace”, the voice of the High Septon interrupted your thought like a thunder, “My Lords and Ladies, we stand here today in the presence of Gods and men, to witness the union of man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever” 

The Septon started reading a passage from the 7 pointed star, their book. But you really didn’t pay much attention. Your father and Uncle had kept close proximity with the faith of the seven, but it never truly got a real impression on you. 

Lyonel took your hand on his, and the mere touch alone was devastating, his hands were warm and big, and yours were cold, coldest as ever despite the good weather. The Septon took the red silk ribbon and tied your hands together 

“Let it be known that Lyonel of house Baratheon, and (Y/N) of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder” he then cleared his throat, to say out loud, “In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity” he then released the ribbon, but Lyonel kept his hand on yours. “Now say the words”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I’m his, and he is mine, from this day, to the rest of our days” you said

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I’m hers, and she is mine, from this day, to the rest of our days”, he said, his booming voice commanding the room as he used to do. 

“You now may kiss the bride”, the Septon said. 

“With this kiss I pledge my love” he grunted, “and take you for my lady and wife”. With a blush, you thought this was going to be your very first kiss, ever. Ser Lyonel was going to be the owner of all your first times, you were his now, with that in mind, you replicated the vow

“With this kiss I pledge my love…” your voice was barely a whisper, but the acoustic of the Septon let everyone hear you just fine, but it sounded as cracked as you said it. 

His.

You were his now

You drew a shaky breath, almost forgetting the words that you had to spew, despite hearing them just seconds ago from his mouth. 

But he was there, right there, caressing the back of your hands with his thumbs, drawing back to the present, those dark eyes of him on you, making you forget everything else, “...and take you for my lord and husband”, and without being able to wait any longer, Lyonel leaned in and kissed you, it was hard and rough, and sticky, feeling how just moments ago he had wetted his lips, but it was also sweet, and warm, inviting. And just as swift as it started, it ended, leaving you flush and bothered, and with your now husband’s cheeky smile. 

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever” chanted the Septon. The ceremony continued with more chants, more words of wisdom, the meaning of joining your house through marriage, even though you were now his, you were a Baratheon now, your future children were going to be Baratheon's as well. 

And just like that, you were married, your life always connected to that of Lyonel’s.

You broke the spell he had on you to turn and face your family, friends and guests, they were all cheering and applauding, big smiles everywhere…. Everywhere. Well except Valarr, you had never seen him smile after the death of his father, neither did your own. 

. . .

You never liked being the center of attention

But right now you were

Sitting there, in the main table, in the middle of the throne room, your dashing husband sitting right beside you, you glanced at him, he was laughing at something he heard down the long table. His curious eyes seemed to miss nothing as he glanced at everything 

Food was being served, and the wine flowed freely, you noticed how he kept it flowing himself, into his cup.

His arm rested relaxed on the back of your chair, pulling you in, leaving a very clear message to the rest of the guests. He dominated the room with his very presence, his thick voice and his proud standing just helped him in that regard. 

He was on his best behaviour, you believe it was because he was in front of your family. The rest of his house and the court he brought to Ashford kept looking at him like they expected him to start the real party after the feast, and you wondered if he was disappointing them by not doing it. 

He filled his cup once again, you made sure the pitch was always full, in hopes of him dulling his own senses

“When we are back at Storm’s End”, he whispered to you, noticing you watching him, “we can have a real party”, he said as if he was reading your thoughts.

“I’m sorry if we are boring you my lord”, he laughed, making you smile

“As you probably witnessed, we at storm’s end party a bit different”, you chuckled yourself. But then you looked at him. Why would you know how they party? Unless… “You thought I wasn’t going to notice you in my own tent?”, he teased, and you got so surprised you didn’t know what to say..

“My Lord… I…”

“Call me Lyonel”, he said, “I’m your husband”, you nodded slowly. “You know they call me the laughing storm, right?”

“Yes I’m aware”, you said softly.

“Some day I’ll make you laugh so much…”, he promised, although it sounded more like a threat, “they’ll give you a nickname to match me”

“Is that a promise?”, you asked. 

“Of course it is”, he said, his deep voice made you feel tingles in your belly, someone who wanted to make you laugh couldn’t possibly be cruel to you, right?. 

You looked to your left and found your family, your father had a bored face, he wanted to get this over with quickly, Valarr was speaking quietly with his wife, and your sisters were giggling and chatting amongst themselves. But Daella caught you staring, and that gave her the courage to walk towards where you were seated. They surely wanted to be introduced to your handsome husband. 

“My Lord”, you called to Lyonel and his eyes where you on a second

“Call me Lyonel, my sweet”, he repeated, and Rhae giggled

“These are my sisters”, you presented, “Daella and Rhae”

“Well, very nice to meet you both”, he said lightly, only then looking at both of them. 

“My Lord” they both bowed diligently

“They both look like you”, he said whispering in your ear, you didn’t believe that was true though, “sweet little things”, he teased, they both giggled like the little girls they were.

“Are you going to take our sister away from home to Storm’s End?”, asked Rhae, accusatory, Lyonel’s smile wiped out so quick

“Well, she is my wife now”, he said with a strange smile reappearing, “she belongs by my side”, he said then softly, smiling at you. His words seemed to make you feel warmth in your belly.

“She belongs with us”, she answered back, an unknown hostility taking hold of her otherwise sweet nature. You didn’t know what to say, this was so unlike her. 

“Well you are always welcomed at Storm’s End”, he said with a soft smile, and then you seemed to look upon his face, he seemed truthful. You looked back at Rhae and she seemed pleased, “to visit my wife whenever you wish, after all, we are only a couple of day’s ride”

To visit my wife

But that did seemed to please them, as they nodded dutifully and left with their little tails between their legs

Lyonel looked at you, pleased, and he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you jump. 

“I can’t wait to take you to Storm’s End”, he whispered, “where you will be all mine”. You looked at him, alarmed, being alone with him sounded so… scary. He was so intimidating, especially after seeing him in full armour, fighting your father. After the way he charged at him and tried to hold him off, you saw him kick him even after the duel was officially over. You saw him tower over every man in this very room, he was taller than your family members, only dwarfed by Ser Duncan the Tall

He took his attention elsewhere, and you couldn’t help but feel surprised by his strong words of… ownership? maybe?

Oh gods, and this very night, maybe even in a couple of hours -if you were being generous-, it was going to be your wedding night, he was going to take you to your own chambers and have your maidenhead.

Gods, was he going to be kind to you? or rough? you had always been taught to expect for men to take their pleasure and for the Gods to bless you with sons. Septas had the task to teach you to endure what your husbands do to their wives at night when they are alone, maids however, had taught you to find pleasure where you could find it. 

You looked back at him, fearing what awaited you

Maids had also admitted how painful it could be if you find yourself with a cruel, or impatient lover. How there was going to be blood….

You suddenly could not breathe, you stood up abruptly attracting the attention to those around you

“Excuse me for a second”, you said lowly to your husband, he only nodded, so you exited the throne room to search for some peace and quiet at the gardens, you loved them at night, they had pools that illuminated the night under the moonlight reflected on them, and some flowers, like star jasmines, that released the most delicious scent at night. Maybe that could ease your nerves

But soon you discovered you weren’t alone.

Daeron was laying down on a stone bench, drunk out of his mind, like he used to in situations like this. 

He seemed to sense you though, opening one of his eyes

“Dashing bride”, he murmured, you could still see on his face the remnants of that fateful tourney 

“Daeron”, he could barely stand, and yet he managed to look up at you. 

“my sister”, he mumbled

“Have you had any other dreams?”, you asked hopefully, “of me and my husband?”

“You are fearful?”, he asked, those bloodshot eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “I haven’t”, what he told you that night hunted you enough, about the dragon chained in the dragonpit, Baratheon banners hanging from the building

What did it meant?

Daeron managed to stand up and walk away from you, stumbling about in the dark, yet, he knew that garden too well, you did not fear for him at all. You had all been born in this castle, it was your home. 

You let out a breath. Walking back towards the doors leading to the ballroom. But you did not have the strength to return yet. 

You stopped under an archway, in a hallway that surrounded the inner garden that led to different parts of the castle, and yet, you couldn’t return.

You turned back towards the garden, to truly enjoy the night this time. 

But no such luck. 

“There you are”, you were so deep in thought you didn’t hear your husband coming, making you jump, “You are cowering from me like a maiden on her wedding night”, he said with a husky voice, loose with wine

“Well I am a maiden, and it is my wedding night”, you said in a quiet voice, looking at him wide eyed, like if you didn’t look upon him for a second, you’d miss something. 

“Oh”, he said then, as he had realized something, with that wicked smile of his…. “So that is why you had been refilling my cup of wine over and over?”, he teased, oh oh, you just got caught

“I just wanted you to enjoy yourself”, you defended, he chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours

“Over indulge myself”, he corrected, “dull my senses, tire me out”, it was one second of doubt that confirmed his suspicions, “want to delay the wedding night?”

“No…”, you tried to deny, “I…”, he chuckled. You then nodded, defeated. 

“No such luck”, he whispered, more for himself than to you, he took one short step to end the distance between you both, now chest to chest, he rearranged a wild lock of your hairs behind your ear, the close distance was suffocating, you were trembling 

“Ser…”

“Lyonel”, he corrected, “I am your husband, are you aware of that?”

“Yes”, you breathed 

“Are you afraid of me?”, you looked up at him, you didn’t even need to answer, but you did not wish for him to know

“I don’t want…. the bedding ceremony”, you said quietly, that seemed to distract him

“Oh, I see” he said softly 

“I don’t want to be humiliated, and paraded in front of the men”, you explained, and in reality, it was true, but you also knew your father was never going to allow it. But Lyonel didn't know that 

He placed his big hands on your cheeks gently, his big hand almost covering your entire head, but the warmth did soothe you a bit

“You are mine now”, he breathe in, “nobody is ever going to see you in that way but me”

You didn’t know if that made you feel safer or not, not really

Yet he leaned in and kissed you softly, you gasped into his mouth, he was too demanding, too absorbent, you felt like he was going to swallow you whole, and not only with the kiss, but body and soul too. 

He released you and without even ask you he grabbed your hand and led you back to the throne room, where the feast was being held

Your ears were on fire by the time you reached your original seats, as you had heard many lewd words and cheers, as the guests had clearly seen you both return together from the gardens, where you probably were alone. 

His court’s table was certainly the loudest

“Are you having dessert Lyonel?”, someone shouted, and you wanted the floor to crack open and swallow you

Lyonel laughed loudly, the very sound commanding the room.

Even your family stopped whatever they were doing and looked at you

“I think I’ll have my dessert in my rooms”, Lyonel said loudly. 

“It’s time for the bedding ceremony!”

“A bear there was, a bear a bear”, you jump at the mere whisper of the lyrics of the infamous song of the bear and the maiden fair, it didn’t help that Lyonel seemed to be the most hyped of them all, you clung onto him like your life depended on it. 

“ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED IN HAIR!”, from a second to the next the room seemed to light up, people standing from their places, they haven’t yet, not even for a dance, and they seemed to surround you and Lyonel

“Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!”

“Oh sweet she was and pure, and fair!”

“The maid with honey up in her hair!”, one touch, and your father slapped the table and stood up, so violently, everything went quiet, and they turned to look at him.

He was looking directly at Lyonel, like daring him to do or say something, but he instead nodded, like agreeing to the interruption that it was quick to turn into something you were not going to like

“No bedding ceremony”, dictated your father, and nobody dared to contradict him, nobody even dared to protest. But you wish he had interceded further, you wished he stopped the entire night at all.

But you guessed he couldn’t do that, he was your father and a Prince, but you had a husband now, who had rights… to you… 

Nobody touched you or undressed you, but nobody stopped them from pushing you and following you towards your room 

“Oh I’m a maid, and I’m pure and fair! I’ll never dance with a hairy bear!”, your hand was sweaty as you held Lyonel’s, who was also singing and joking around with his friends and his family members, “I called a knight, but you’re a bear! All black and brown and covered in hair!”, you led the way to your own chambers, without even knowing it.

The room you grew up in 

You didn’t even quite know what the bedding ceremony consisted of… 

Apart from Aerion’s lewd comments, and maid’s gossip and what you could call street knowledge, you also knew it was painful… and intimate… including parts of men you have never seen, and that intimate part in between your legs.  

The door to your chambers was open, and the happy mob behind you as much as pushed you both inside it

“It’s time you rode the dragon Lyonel!”, you heard someone shout, Lyonel laughed, his loud, rich laugh, and suddenly, you were alone.

Completely alone

You wanted to say or do something, anything, to delay the inevitable.

“You didn't get to dance”, you said.

Good job

“What, my sweet?”, he asked

“You like to dance, do you?”, you asked hopefully, that he wanted to return to the hall to dance, so by the time he returned, you’d be sleeping, “we didn’t get to dance”, he smiled widely

“We have our whole lives to dance, wife”, he said, he then looked around. “These are your rooms?”, he asked with interest as he turned on his feet to take everything in. He stopped at the marble stand above the fireplace, where a Dragon egg rested there

It was a Targaryen tradition

Even though now they were stone, and they did not hold the possibility of birthing a fire breathing creature. They were invaluable. 

Your grandfather himself had placed a white and purple egg in your crib when you were a baby. 

 You heard the music from the hall, and you were somewhat relieved that the guests got to dance themselves, and keep enjoying the festivity.

You had also missed dessert

You liked dessert.

You jumped when two servants entered the room by the service door. Lyonel smiled as they helped you both get out of your clothes. They took his finary, and his golden vest, leaving him in only a thin linen shirt, they also removed his boots and pants. He wore some sort of short linen pants underneath.

They took your finery too, leaving your hair to fall freely down your back, they also took your shoes and dress, leaving you in a thin white dress. 

They left as quickly as they entered with their heads down and silly smiles on their lips. 

“You don’t have to be nervous”, you did know that, it was something every woman had done, to have sex, to be bedded by their husband…. you didn’t know why you were so nervous

“I know”, you said, his words didn’t help you at all.

He looked at you, with those eyes of his, yet this time, they held something darker in them, he licked his lips slowly, without breaking eye contact. You shuddered in your spot. It was like the roles were reversed, like you were the doe and he the dragon, ready to devour you whole. 

You were so paralyzed you just stood there as he closed in the distance between you, he trapped you in his arms and kissed you again, devoured you more likely 

“We are going to have so much fun”, he teased against your lips, “you’ll see my lovely bride”

“I have never…”, you tried to argue, but he caught your lips on his again, this time, he nibble on your lower lip until you protested with a whine

“I know”, he said huskily. Even though you could taste the whine on his lips, he wasn’t drunk, not like that night in the tent, your plan has failed miserably.

But he did seem like he was drunk in something else, lost within his own mind, his voice was thicker, his eyes a dark pool of black, his hand began to wonder, on your sides, you felt them everywhere, it was intoxicating.

He was succeeding though, in something you didn’t even understand, you weren’t thinking, he was slowly pulling you out of your own mind and instead he was irving you to feel, him, all of him, on your mouth, in your inexpert hands, in your body, everything was him, him, him.

He fisted the thin dress you had on like he wanted to rip it, but you let out a gasp in protest, so he didn’t really do it 

In a strange way, you felt like he was containing himself

Perhaps he was going to be merciful, on the first night at least. 

His hands rested on your hips, and then upwards, as his mouth was on you again. 

“I want you to do something for me, ey?”, he asked, you whimpered against his mouth

“What?”, you managed to ask. He only smiled wickedly. He pulled you with him towards the bed, your bed, and using his great strength, he had you straddling him in a single movement. He moved under you, with you on top of him like you weren’t even there to begin with, to get comfortable against the pillows. 

“My Lord…”, you protested, but he pulled you by the back of your head to kiss him again.

You didn’t even know what was happening. 

You didn’t even know what was that you felt underneath you between your legs, that hard, warm thing

You knew that it was your duty, that you knew

“Relax darling”, he said huskily, his temper hanging by a thread

“B-but…”

“Let me lead you”, he begged 

His hands that rested in your covered thighs went to release you from the light shift, leaving you completely naked on top of him. With a whimper you tried to cover your breasts with your arms, but he wouldn’t let you, grabbing them and pulling them off of you.

“My beautiful bride”, he teased, “I’ll make a doe out of you yet”, he teased

Even though you were on top of him, you felt as defenseless as ever, you were naked and on display for him, he had his free hands to touch you and do with you as he pleased. His greedy hands seemed to be at all places at the same time, and you whined in protest at the unfairness of it all, placing your hands in his chest to try and separate yourself from him, but one of his big hands grabbed your hip, keeping you in place, and the other… the other went straight in that secret place of yours.

You wanted to close your legs, but you couldn’t as his whole body stood in between them

You felt a sharp pleasure twist your body, as his fingers teased your intimacy, 

“Ah”, you moaned, closing your eyes as he had struck you, making him chuckle

“You are no stranger to pleasure I take it”, you had touched yourself at night, I mean, who hadn't, but nobody ever had touched you in that manner, not in your wildest dreams after those nights in the naughty section of the library. 

He touched you and teased you between your folds, his thumb pressing on a special palace that made your mind swim with pleasure. Like he was playing the most delicate of instruments, you’d gather he wanted to collect more of your wetness. 

The knot snapped, making you moan against his mouth and lose yourself for a couple of seconds. He grabbed you by the back of your neck again and kissed you, and before you could regain your bearings… 

You cried out when you felt it, a pressure, a burn, the feeling of being split open

“no…”, you whimpered, you tried to remove yourself from his hold, from this pain, you didn’t know what was happening. But he had you, the guilty hand that had been between your legs now went to rest in your hip again, keeping you in place. Lyonel kissed your tears from your cheeks, tears you didn’t even know you had dropped. He kissed you all over as he settled deep in your gut

“Sh sh sh, my doe, you are alright”, he whispered against your mouth

“Fuck”, as your father’s daughter, you cursed as you tried to close your thighs. Lyonel was a big man, your legs were already fatigued from being apart holding your body. He was inside you, deep inside you, you felt his wiry hairs of the base of his manhood tingle your thighs. You couldn’t even see him, the whole of him, you just felt him. 

You gasped, letting out all the air as the pain seemed to settle, your body adjusting to the intrusion. 

You sniffed, the sorrow abandoning you but the aftermath of the pain left our body tired and sore. 

You couldn’t see him, couldn’t meet his eyes as you sniffed. 

“There there little dragon”, he teased, “the worst has passed”

His hand kept you in place as he retrieved himself just a little and then pushed upwards, filling you again.

It was true, you did feel pain, but this time it brought forth another hot sensation of pleasure. 

Your hands that rested on his chest clawed at his skin making him grunt, you closed your eyes so tightly they hurt

“Look at me”, he demanded

“No”, he repeated the motion, rolling his hips underneath you, this time his cock dragged lazily inside of you, making you shudder

“Fucking look at me”, oh he was impatient, you opened your eyes to find him smiling up at you, his eyes looked demonic. 

He repeated the motion, again, and again, until you felt so overstimulated you bent until your face was hiding on his neck, you grabbed onto him for dear life as he did as he pleased with you. 

He held you, hugged you tightly against him until his thrusts diminished and you heard him draw a most guttural sound from his throat, you felt it in between your thighs as well, something wet and sticky filling you. You whimpered against the sweaty skin of his neck,

Only then you felt the shouting outside your door, the knocks, apparently there were people who heard it all. 

But you were so tired you didn’t care

“There, there”, he shushed, caressing the sweaty skin of your back, “first times are tough, hey?”, he said sweetly, kissing the side of your face he could reach. 

“Ah”, you whined when he released you, retrieving yourself from your cunt making you cry out at the uncomfortable feeling. 

You woke up in a duality of soreness and pleasure, as you felt a hot wet mouth drop kisses on your shoulder 

“Mmmm”, you whined, Lyonel chuckled against your skin

“Wakey wakey my lovely wife”, he teased, dropping one kiss on your neck, it felt good, it did, his warm hand looked for your naked body under the covers, his hand actually covered your breast. HIs mouth kissed a special spot on your neck that made you feel so good you actually drew a moan.

He stopped all movements, you actually felt him smile against your skin

“Oh?”, he teased, kissing you in the same spot, making you draw the same sound again, making him chuckle, “found one”, he whispered, and then he actually attached his lips at the spot and sucked, making you see actual stars as you drew an even louder moan.

You had sometimes ventured under your skirts but it had never felt like this, his warm, careful hands mapping your body, his mouth in that spot that actually made you feel so good… 

“My lord”, you whispered

“I don’t know who you are referring to”, he teased, his hand pinching one of your nipples gently, making you squirm.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”, he whispered. You didn’t even understand what he was asking you, but you felt him.

Between your folds, his manhood. your back was to him, you were laying on your side as was his. The pressure was great, but not as uncomfortable like the night before, just a little press and he slid in

You moaned softly, the pain residing quickly, as his hands and mouth kept working

He shuddered against your ear as he clung onto you. 

He retrieved himself only to push inside again, and then again, thrusting into you slowly and deep, so so deep. This position made you feel like he was up in our belly.

“my perfect little dragon wife”, he grunted in your ear, “are you alright, love? Does it feel good?”, it felt so good you didn't even think you could string a sentence together. He pinched your nipple again, making you squirm, making him moan, it felt tighter somehow. “answer me”

“Y-yes”, you moaned, “it feels good”, it was suddenly overwhelming, his hands everything… his cock deep inside you, his mouth in your neck. You whined as you grabbed onto his arms for dear life, as you felt like a tidewave washing over you, making you snap in pleasure. 

“So good you just cummed on my cock, my beautiful wife”, he was so pleased with himself, he started fucking you a bit rougher, “you are so tight”, it was overwhelming, the dirty talk, you had never heard such lewd words coming from someone’s mouth, not in civil conversations. With a grunt in your ear, and him hugging you tightly against him, there came the hot, messy sensation. “fuck, got me spilling myself like a green boy”, he chuckled, and you didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He retrieved himself, making you feel uncomfortable again. 

He accommodated himself on his back, and then he pulled you towards him.

He was so big and strong he could just grab you, and put you in the position he wished

He went straight for a kiss, accommodating you on his side

“Did that feel good?”, he asked, you just nodded, words escaping you, “I need you to be honest with me”, he said gently, caressing your naked back, “I want to make you feel good…”

“It did felt good”, you said honestly, you cuddled into his naked chest, you weren’t sure when he took off his shirt though

“Good, because we are going to be doing a lot of that”, he whispered as he kissed the top of your hair. 

it was an intense morning

You didn’t miss the complacent smiles the maids gave each other when they brought you something to break fast and helped dress you. 

Lyonel wanted to go back to Storm’s End as soon as possible 

You did not

But he was your husband, and didn’t ask you, so you guessed he wanted to get back home after the tourney, and your own wedding.

That didn’t stop you from going to see your father, who had locked himself in his study.

“My lord husband wished to depart to Storm’s End as soon as possible”, you started the conversation, he eyed you, like reading your own intentions

“Well, he has been away from his seat quite a while”, he said

“I was wondering, if I could stay a bit longer”, you began

“Why?”, he asked, frowning, directing all his attention onto you, leaving his quill and parchment aside, “has something happened?”, he seemed more severe now

“No…”, you said, shaking your head slowly, “it’s just… I want to stay home”

“Did he do something to you?”, he asked

“No!”, you said quickly, “it’s just, I do not wish to leave you papa”, you confessed. Now he seemed angry.

“I’m not a child for you to be caring for me”, he said severely.

“I know”, you said firmly, “but with Aerion gone, and Aegon… who went with the Hedge Knight… and what happened at the trial…”

He was still tormented by the death of his brother at his own hands, and you guessed he was going to be as such the rest of his life

“None of that”, he said severely, “You are a Baratheon now, and you shall go wherever your husband pleases". He said, not really knowing what to say to you. When he saw the way your eyes wetted. He stood up from his chair and came to you. And hugged you tightly against him.

“I will be alright”, he said, kissing the top of your head, “and you will be too”, he said. 

He released you, even attempted to smile at you, though it was a bit deformed, succeeding in his attempt to cheer you up

“Your mother hated me at first”, he said, making you giggle, “she did”

“I don’t believe that”

“I swear, her brother had to literally grab her and pull her out of her rooms the day she was sent to King’s Landing”, he continued, “she told me afterwards of course”, you smiled at him, “he sported a claw mark on his cheek, to this day I believe”

You took a long breath

“You will be fine”, he said, "Baratheon knows the consequences if you are not”, he said severely, you nodded, smiling widely, “now… lets get you on your way”, he said, weirdly gently

You got dressed in your riding attire, this one was a dark red, with intricate designs on the laps on your chest and sleeves with golden thread.

You exited Summerhall for the last time -for the time being-, ready to depart, to find an entire party outside, everything getting ready, the Baratheon committee was ready to go, another three carriages added for your comfort, your trunks and possessions. 

You talked to the master of the stable, who was riding the horses. 

“I was wondering if I could take a horse from the stables…”, but Lyonel interrupted you, opening the door of a carriage for you

It looked new, the paint shiny and fresh. 

“I would feel so much better if my darling wife would take the carriage”, he said, to someone from the outside, it would have seemed dashing, but to you… it’s like they were cutting your wings 

It happened quicker than you thought, it may look like a carriage, but it certainly felt like a cage…

Your father was by your side, placing his hand on your shoulder

“great idea”, he said firmly. You nodded, taking out your gloves, since you were not going to need them to protect your hands from grabbing the reins.

Once both husband and father walked away talking about other details, the master of stables came to you.

“The mare with the white coat, my princess”, he said in a whisper, you knew him since you had a memory to remember faces. “It’s from your father’s stable”, you have used her, whenever Ashflake would be quickened with a foal. “To have a trusted mount on Storm’s End”, he said with a soft smile

“You are too kind, Manfred, thank you”, he smiled, contented, and left you. 

You turned to meet the rest of your family, Daeron couldn’t pull himself out of bed this morning, Egg had left for the country, or escaped, according to your father… Aerion had been sent to Lys… 

Only your sisters remained there, with teary eyes 

You hugged them tightly, with promises of seeing them again you didn’t know if you could keep, then, there was Valarr

“I wish you good fortune cousin, in the wars to come”, Valarr said solemnly, you barely nodded at him, and you got inside the carriage refusing the help of those that were near. You tried not to cry, but when you found yourself alone, you couldn’t help it.

You hugged yourself as the carriage started moving, pulling you away from your home, your family, everything you knew. 

The journey was uncomfortable and long, you guessed Lyonel was eager to go home since you barely stopped to eat. You were watching the landscape slowly change, sometimes, he would even ride by the carriage side… he would look at you, like checking if you were still there, and then ride ahead again.

By the time the sun was setting, and the carriage stopped, the camp was already set

It wasn’t odd, to send a cart ahead to prepare the camp for the Lord 

They even raised the huge pavilion from Ashford. 

“My lady”, he was there to help you out of the carriage, so you took his hand and let him lead you to the inside of the tent. 

There was only one table set for the both of you

“We’ll have supper early, so my people can use the tent to rest”, he said with a soft smile, and you nodded

Once the dinner was served, he asked the servants to abandon the tent, leaving you both completely alone. You were so nervous. For the first time, you were truly alone with him, not contemplating the first night you spent together in your rooms, now he sat there, looking at you. 

“Is the dinner to your liking?”, he asked, you immediately nodded, it was the hunt of the day served with vegetables, it was really good

“Yes, of course my lord”, you answered quickly, “is it to yours?”

“I rather feast on something else…”, he roughly set his utensils down on the table with a grin, he licked his own lips while his eyes were set on you

He made the chair scrap against the floor as he push himself back and off the table 

“On w-what?”, you asked shakily, not really knowing what he meant, but he didn’t answer, he kept his crazy eyes on you, and then, under your surprised gaze, he dropped to the floor on his knees. 

He crawled towards you, slowly, taking his time, and you truly felt like you were the stag and he was the dragon, as he gazed upon you like that. 

You didn’t know what to do but to fall back on your chair, waiting as he came upon you. 

“I plan to feast on my dashing new bride”, he said teasingly. Kneeling on the floor right beside you. Again, he was the second tallest man you had ever seen, and strong as well, he grabbed your heavy wooden chair with you on it and pulled it until you were completely in front of him and not under the protection of the table. 

“W-what….?”, you cleared your voice as he reached you placing both his hands on each of the arms of the chair, caging you in, “what do you mean my lord?”, you managed to finally ask

Having his this close was breathtaking, you literally couldn’t breathe properly as he gaze you up with those eyes of his that didn’t seem to miss a thing

“Lyonel”, he tried again for you to call him by his name, his hands travelled down the skirt of your dress and you felt your legs tremble underneath the thick fabric. You were paralyzed, you didn’t know what to do… he seemed to have something else in mind although you didn’t know what.

When he started raising your skirts you tried to stop him, fighting him for the fabric, and yet, unlike the time of the wedding, he didn’t release you. You cursed yourself for having change from your gear to this uncomfortable dress. 

“Let me”, he said, but this time, he was pleading gently, “I will not harm you, I promise”, you whimpered, not yet convinced, “I swear, this will not hurt…”

You did not feel comfortable, and yet, you felt like you couldn’t deny him, you were his now, his lady wife… your body… was his to enjoy. 

You had been lucky so far that he didn’t force you… and yet… this time… he seemed determined.

“My Lord…”, you called again, when your skirts were around your waist and he leaned in under the rest of the fabric… right between your legs… Only then he stopped looking at you, because he focused on something else. 

He removed your under garments, those silky pants you used underneath your dress. You tried to close your legs but he had already placed himself in between them.

“Lyonel!”, you called then, when you felt his hands on your bare thighs. Only then he appeared from underneath your skirts to look at you his tongue peeking out between his sharp teeth

“You’re gonna have to trust me wife”, he said with certainty, his warm hands squeezed your feverish thighs. “If you truly don’t find enjoyment in it, you can say so, but I will make you try it first”

You still didn’t know what he wanted to try on you, and you truly didn’t trust him yet to truly give him permission, but he didn’t wait for it, he dived back again in between your thighs.

You gasped when you felt his breath right there… right in your intimacy… you tried to close your legs but he didn’t let you, he had sneaked his way right in between them

“My lord….”, you didn't even know what you wanted, but you didn’t even have time to phrase it…

it happened so quickly… he had both your thighs under his hands and he parted them and then… you felt him.

His tongue, big and wet lapped at your folds making a drowned gasp part from your lips at the impression of the action itself

But you didn’t have time to recover and he dove right in again, this time you felt his lips around a place that made your body tremble and a moan leave your mouth

“Oh gods”, you had never felt anything like it, a pleasure like no other building tightly inside your belly. But he kept going, slurping, sucking, licking, you didn’t even know, from a second to the next your body was on fire. A knot tightening in your belly. This time Lyonel allowed you to close your legs but only around his head, but that didn't stop him

You didn’t know what was happening, only that the knot snapped a wild pleasure bathed you from head to toe. Making you scream and moan because of the impression. 

Lyonel laughed against your cunt, making you wince because of the over-stimulation. 

He licked you one last time before he released you, his mocking smile appearing from under your skirts. His beard under his mouth was drenched, in you, in your release.

“What was that?”, you asked him, still shaken up

He licked his lips lewdly while he made eye contact with you, and then released you gently. 

“That was you cumming on my mouth for the first time”, he answered, “Best feast I ever had”, he teased, and you didn't know what to do. What to say. He stood up until he towered over you, looking down at you he offered you his hand for you to take it. 

You were barely regaining your breath and your bearings but you took his hand. it cost you to stand on your feet, your legs still weak, but he only chuckled, pleased with himself and took you by your waist to lead you to your tent.

“I didn’t know I was going to be married when I left Storm’s End”, he said gruffly as you walked from the big tent you ate in, to the one you were going to sleep in. “So I didn’t pack a tent for a princess”, you only smiled

“It’s alright, My Lord”, he stopped and grabbed your face to kiss you, taking you by surprise. He swallowed you gasp in his eager mouth, leaving you breathless. 

“Lyonel”, he said, when he barely separated himself from you, "I can't take it anymore, if it is not ‘my love’, ‘my stag’ or ‘my dear’ you’ll call me by my name or call me a cunt if you wish, but if you call me ‘my lord’ one more time I’ll kiss you until you forget all manners”, he said more sharply than before. And you nodded, your ears ringing. He moved the thick fabric so you could enter. It was simple really, two chairs and a small table on one side, one big bed with furs on the other a lamp made with antlers hanging from the center of the tent.

You wondered briefly if he bedded someone in that bed at the tourney, maybe a lady, or a servant or a whore, or one of each, or many.

But you got distracted when you saw the mythical antler clown on top of the table. You walked towards it, smiling without even realizing it. You wouldn’t admit it, yet, but he looked incredible with it. 

There was a piece of parchment next to it, with a message

“For when you are mounting your doe”

Charming, you thought. 

You couldn’t see your own face but you certainly could feel how heated your cheeks had become 

“You like it?”, he teased in your ear, you jumped because you didn’t even realize he was right there behind you

“I-I do”, you answered shakily, releasing the heavy crown, leaving it back in the table

“Why do you do that?”, he asked, his hot breath on the side of your face. 

“Do what?”, you asked back

“Cower”, he answered simply, “Are you afraid of me?”, he asked. If your father was in the room, you’d look at him for guidance, and that made you realize what he meant

“I-I don’t know”, you said back. “Should I be?”

“Never”, he said with certainty, “never of me”, you turned back to look at him

“But…”, he shushed you. 

“I will never harm you or treat you badly”, he promised, “I will never judge you from speaking your mind or forbid you to do something you enjoy”

“But Lyonel…”

“I will never touch you with anything that isn't devotion or care”, not love though, not yet. He kissed you then, his hands on your hair to keep you steady.

“You want me to use the crown while I ravish you, don’t you?”, he grunted against your mouth. You were so embarrassed you didn’t even know what to say. “My dirty little wife”, he mocked

“I-I’m not sure”, you whispered

“So polite”, he teased, he released you from the upper part of your outfit quite easily. “Do you like it when I speak lewdly to you?”, he asked.

You didn’t truly know what to answer to that really, but his warm hands on you made your mind begin to swim.

“No words? let’s put it to the test”, as he was used to it already, he grabbed you by your skirts again and hunched them up, uncovering your lower region. 

He slid one of his fingers between your folds making you gasp

“Ups”, he teased, “seems like you do like it”, he chuckled

“No”, you defended, cheeks heated with embarrassment

“Here”, without even being told so, he helped you out of that dress, and you just let him, you found yourself wanting to have sex as much as he did.

It was quite pleasurable, if you were being honest, and besides, you were doing your wifely duties, right?

Yes wifely duties…

Having children…

He laid you down over the furs on the bed, they felt incredible against your naked body, he was on top of you in a second, after he undressed in front of you.

“My beautiful wife”, he called, pleased with the look on your face.

“Lyonel…”, you called, deciding to say something before your mind was clouded by pleasure

“Yes, my deer?”, deer or dear you weren’t quite sure

“Do you mind if we… wait a bit before we have children?”, you asked, he looked at you with those big eyes of him, and then laughed

“Why wait?”, he asked leaning over you, he kissed you, barely a peck on the lips, “I wish to see your belly grow with my heirs”

His mouth as his hands were in the right place at the wrong time, meaning, they made you forget all about it, dissipated all fears under your question

Of course he didn’t want to wait… who would? He was older than you, he wanted to have heirs, he made sure to pull you out of your thoughts with his mouth on your neck, on your chest

“Oh!”, you moaned when he trapped one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently while he cupped the other with his warm hands

“Can you do something for me?”, he asked, breath ragged

“Yes”, you'd do anything at this point

“I’m going to get my antlers… I need you on your knees and hands”, he said with this wide smile, with a last kiss he left you there, panting. And he went to do as he said. He had a nice ass, all round and firm because all of his horse riding - you supposed-, his back was rippled with muscles and you could clearly see them with each movement of his.

He was very handsome

He came back with the biggest grin, looking at you like you were a feast he intended to indulge in, with the antlers on his hands. But your eyes traveled north, to his manhood.

it's the first time you saw it, now that you think about it, it was… hard, you had never seen one before, it was thick, and long, it had this bulbous head, shined under the candlelight, it was all red, like it was angry, then his stones, where covered in thick black curly hair, they were round and heavy-looking. You wondered if it hurt him, when it was hard.

It was odd to think that fitted inside you, that you had found pleasure in it. 

“Come on darling”, you only then realized you haven’t move, “look, this things are heavy, I don’t want to hurt you while I’m wearing them…”, you moved slowly, with uncertainty, under his wicked smile that made you shiver 

You turned on the bed, and then you bent your legs, placing your knees on the mattress, doing as he indicated. You felt a bit embarrassed, and definitely exposed in front of him, you even began to feel cold.

Until he placed his big hands on your ass 

You moaned softly, at the warmth of his touch

You looked at him over your shoulder, he looked down at you with agrin and the antlered helm. The sight alone made you shudder. 

“This will feel… more intense”, he teased with a satisfied grin. “Now… before you get cold…”, you whimpered when you felt him entering you. Your body jolted forwards, but his hands were quick to grab your hips and keep you there

“Lyonel”, you whined.

He was right, it did feel more intense, he eased into you, inch by inch. You grabbed onto the sheets underneath with strength, you still felt the need to escape him, but he wouldn’t let you, he kept pushing in, deeper and deeper, he was right, it felt so. so intense

“Fuck, my wife…” even he seemed to be in another plain entirely, “so tight, so perfect for me, all mine”

You didn’t know if it was his words or the fact that he finally bottomed out inside of you, you melted onto the furs due to pure bliss

“You like that?”, he asked, “answer me”, he teased

“I do”, you whined.

“In all fours for me, my perfect little wife”, he teased, “who would have known that this perfect Targaryen princess would become such a whore”, you clenched on his cock, you both felted

“I’m not a whore”. you whined against the bed, he laughed

“That’s right”, he said, “you are only MINE”, he retrieved himself and then he thrust into you, making you draw the loudest moan, a sound so deep from your belly it surprised even yourself. It felt so good, yet so tight

He repeated the motion, slowly, sensually, making sure you could feel every vein and ridge of him.

You whined, wanting something but at the same time not truly knowing

“What is it my wife?”

MY wife, you liked that, how possessive he was with you

“More”, more, you wanted more from him. He laughed

“Greedy little thing you are, uh?”, he asked, but he was a pleaser, he started fucking you harder, that familiar knott was tightening in your belly, his thighs started to make sounds as he clashed with your ass. He laughed, loud, you bet others could hear, yet you found yourself moaning as well.

It felt so good, you never thought it could feel like this 

He used his hands, to grab onto you tighter, to draw you to him, to make it rougher, quicker, harder.

You were going to… reach your climax… and he could feel it, you knew he could.

“Does it feel good, my doe?”, he said between laughs

“Yeah”, you managed to say

“Yeah? Does your stag mounting make you feel good?”, he asked with yet another laugh

“Yes”, you admitted, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“I’m going to breed you”, he kept going, “but I want to look at your face as I do”, you were so close, but before you could cum, he released you

You screeched when he retrieved himself from deep inside you, the feeling so uncomfortable, you only then realized your knees were so weak you fell on your side to the bed

“Look at you, and I’m not even done with you”, he said with pride, he grabbed you, handled you as he liked, he made you fall on your back and spread your legs. Like you weighed nothing he pulled you towards him. He was kneeling on the bed, looking down at you with his antlers, and this big smile on his face.

One hand on your hip, the other on his cock and he entered you again.

This time it wasn’t that slow, he pushed right in as he grunted, the muscles on his belly tightened by the exercise

One he was fully sitting inside and had you moaning like the whore he called you to be, he started fucking into you again.

But he wouldn’t held you, he was over you while you laid on the bed, legs spread for him and he fucked you. Your breasts bouncing uncomfortably, and he enjoyed the view, smiling wide with the antlered crown atop his head

The sight alone made you clench on him, he grunted with a toothy smile and drew a laugh

“You look so fucking good”, he said, “my perfect wife”

“Lyonel”, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, you just grbbed onto the furs even tighter, as you bounced on the mattress

“Come here”, he said, he was lodged deep inside you when he stopped, he placed his hand on your thigh, “put your feet on the mattress my love”, and you did, and repeated the notion with the other. Then he grabbed you, held you against his chest. Now you were face to face, and he kissed you softly, hugging you tightly against him as you began fucking up to you. You surrounded his broad shoulders with your arms 

It didn’t take long for your peak to reach you, like in soft waves, you clenched again, making it so tight for him he quickly followed

He looked into your eyes with a satisfied grin. 

He filled you up again.

And again later that night

And again that morning.

You slept all the way back to Storm’s End.

You heard excited chats and murmurs out of the carriage, so you opened the window

And there it was

The panoramics had changed from green meadows and forests to stoney cliffs and clouded skies, and out there, like a lighthouse before the sea, was Storm’s End unmistakable tower.

It might be the biggest castle you had ever seen, standing taller and broader than the Red Keep, truly a bastion that had stood against the wrath of Kings, Dragons and Gods alike.

“Let’s hurry, there’s a storm coming in!”, you heard someone scream, and you smiled.

You couldn’t stop watching even though a soft rain started to fall over your heads.

Soon you passed a stone archway, entrance to a massive protective wall and then, you were inside the courtyard

As soon as the carriage stopped, Lyonel opened the door of the carriage with a big smile

“Welcome home, my wife”, he said, he offered you his hand and as soon as you took it he pulled you out of the carriage. He grabbed you by the waist and led up up the stoney steps to the main entrance of the huge tower

The whole thing seemed to be carved out of stone, just like Dragonstone. 

The main entrance led to a huge hall, and then to the Storm Throne

“Well, there isn’t much to do in here”, he said with an apologetic smile, unaware of your astonishment, “a lot of time inside…”, he then turned to you, with a much more wicked smile, “that’s is why Baratheon’s are known for having many children”, he teased, you cleared your throat that suddenly felt dry as you looked away from him again, not wanting to miss a thing

“It’s incredible”. you managed to whisper, you looked up at the vaulted ceiling, tall, and the spiraled stairs at the side that led to the rest of the castle and surely the rooms

It was dark, and gloomy, you were not going to argue with that, but it was new, so, so far, it was incredible.

Soon it dawned on you, you were going to run this place, this whole holdfast, you were the Lady of Storm’s End, you had helped your father with things on Summerhall, but not in this scale, but the prospect was exciting. 

Soon, Lords, guards and servants began to appear in the great hall, for sure to welcome their Lord… and their lady

“This is my lady wife, princess (y/n) of house Targaryen”. Lyonel presented, proudly. He encountered the first familiar face he could find and presented you to her, it was a young woman, no older than seven and ten

“This is Lady Maris of House Wylde”, the young girl courtesied to you in a perfect fashion, “she is to attend you, and be your lady in waiting”

“It is very nice to meet you”, you said

“The pleasure is mine… your grace!”, Lyonel laughed at that

“She is a lady now”, he corrected. 

“I’m very sorry”, you smiled at her

“You don’t need to be”, she seemed sweet, but Lyonel did not linger on her as he moved you to present to you to other lords who resided in Storm’s End for the season 

The introductions were over,  thankfully, and he personally led you up the long stairs and towards the tallest floor. 

“This is the most important floor anyways”, Lyonel said when you asked him about the others. “This is where the rooms of the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End are”, he said with a cheeky smile. 

“This will be yours”, he opened this set of double doors, the first thing you noticed was the incredible view, the second, the mess.

“I will not go!”, someone screeched, you jumped in your place, but Lyonel was quick to surround your waist with his arm. And from some other doors at the other side of the room, appeared a woman with clothes in her hands. She was older, maybe fifty name days on her, she had incredible hair yet grayish by the years, she had a set of sharp blue eyes, she only stopped when she found the both of you standing on the doorway, “These are MY ROOMS!”, she continued to press on, “I am the lady of Storm’s End!”, she said firmly, you looked at Lyonel, your stomach sinking.

As the third child to be born out of a fourth child of a King… you found yourself… sometimes… in a privileged place to know some things…

You knew how to properly behave in front of nobles, you knew how to carry yourself with the grace and delicacy of a princess of the seven Kingdom, a princess of House Targaryen

And you also know what it meant, when you received in your father’s home, Summerhall, the visit of the hand of the king and next in line to the Iron Throne, your uncle, Prince Baelor.

It wasn’t odd that he was visiting, he was on his way to a tourney in Ashford, four days' ride from Summerhall which happened to be in the way. This was his brother’s preferred way to keep his family, this is where you and your siblings were born. 

But it was odd that both father and uncle had retreated alone so they could discuss business. 

You tried to remain distracted, your cousin Valarr did not help in this regard, he was quiet and observant, and after asking polite questions about everyone’s wellbeing he just kept to himself in the corner of the table.

Your siblings however, were in a heated discussion about the coming tournament. Daeron, as the oldest, was being made to participate, Aerion however, was the most willing participant, and that didn’t surprise you, tourneys were one of the ways he could unleash his cruelty and call it a sport. Or actually have justifications for it.

Aegon just listened to his older brother's quarrel about representing the house of the dragon. You knew he dreamt of being a squire, he had told you so himself, and your father last week, and his wish was granted in the worst of ways, he was named the squire to Daeron himself. 

You guessed you couldn’t have the cake and eat it, as your father often said.

A guard, who you recognized as being the one to shadow your father came into the dim illuminated dining room, his eyes found yours

“Pardon me, your grace, you have been summoned”, he said bowing his head. 

“Someone’s in trouble", mocked Aerion, “and it isn’t me”

“For the very first time”. you mocked back. standing from your heavy wooden chair. Even Valarr seemed intrigued, his gaze following you as you departed from the great hall where you dined with your family. 

You had been summoned to your own father’s studies, where he managed the castle and handled his affairs with other important lords of the Stormlands or of Dorne or the Reach, and now, your uncle had commandeered it. You found Baelor sitting in your father’s place, and himself sitting close by, there was wine on the table and remains of a light conversation in the air.

“Your grace”, you greeted, bowing softly, 

“My sweet daughter”, his words made such a hard contrast with the tone they had been said with. But that was your father Maekar, rough and hard as his nickname, the Anvill 

“You had been summoned here for we have received an offer, for your hand in marriage”, your uncle Baelor began quickly. 

Despite knowing this moment was quick to come, nothing could have truly prepared you for it. Being the eldest daughter after Daeron and before Aerion, you should have expected it, and yet, here you stood, in front of your father and uncle, trembling like a leaf in autumn winds.

You were almost certain you were to marry your own brother Daeron, or even Aerion, and the thought just made your stomach revolt in agony. 

“Ser Lyonel of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, has asked me for your hand in marriage”, your father completed, “And I intent to say yes”

You shared looks with your uncle, Baelor, but he, as always, seemed unmoved 

“Lyonel Baratheon?”, you asked, “father, he is of your age”, you cried

“He is the Lord of the Stormlands, and head of House Baratheon”, he continued, as if that was answer to anything

“Why?”, you asked, voice cracking, “have I done something to offend you father?”, he wouldn’t even meet your eye, it was your uncle and hand to the King that seemed more moved.

“Houses Baratheon and Targaryen have been as one and the same since the Conqueror himself”, Baelor said, “He is a good man”

For as much as you thought about it, you couldn’t come up with a reason as to why you should be offered to the Mighty knight.

“Why me?”, you asked them. You have heard of him, Lyonel, of course, but you had never even crossed words with him. You doubted he ever seen you

“He was here in the celebrations of The King’s 60th’s birthday”, he said shortly, that had been weeks ago, you all traveled to King’s Landing to celebrate your grandfather, the King, “he spoke of yours and your sisters’ beauty”

“Yet he did not speak to me”, you said then. Of course you remembered his booming laughter, the way he commanded the room, and yet, you did not seem to recall the shape of his face, only his height. “Does he ask for the hand of any one of us?”, you asked, not sure if you cared for the answer

“I believed he asked for the feistiest one”, recalled your uncle. And you were not it, if anything, you were the oldest, certainly not the fairest, but the most boring and unremarkable of the three. 

“This shall be the marriage pact that will shape your sisters’”, your father said severely, seeing that you were not yet convinced, “you are the eldest and should lead by example”

You searched the eyes of your uncle and still you found no aid in his eyes.

“But, what about marriage within our own house… What about my cousins… Or…”, you tried mentioning the names of your brothers, but the idea made you want to ride to Storm’s End yourself

“We strengthen our house by marrying into the other most powerful houses”, chided your uncle. 

You bowed again

“Yes your grace”, you said softly. Accepting defeat

“See this not as punishment”, said the Hand, “but security and happiness”

“He shall make me laugh then?”, you teased, you actually made them chuckle. “Is he a laughing knight?”

“He is nicknamed the laughing storm”, said Baelor mindlessly 

“He awaits for his answer at Ashford, for the tournament”, your father continued, “we are to attend the fucking joust, as a family", you lowered your sights to the floor.

Fighting was useless.

Perhaps you were being placed in the same sack as Daeron and Aerion, for their misgivings, perhaps your father deemed you just as unworthy as them, perhaps he wanted to prevent a similar fate to be trusted upon you. The drunken, the mad and the whore or something of the sort. 

“So you are to deliver me to my husband to be as I am a plate of cheeses and grapes at a feast?”, you asked, “to save yourself the trouble of bringing him back to King’s Landing to have a proper wedding?”, you lowered your sight to the floor as you felt the tears coming, "you are to send me away as quickly as possible?"

“No…”, it was Baelor instead of your own father who attempted comfort, “After the tournament and the announcement of the betrothal, you are to be married here, at Summerhall, in your home”, he comforted, “then to finally travel with your husband to his seat at Storm’s End”

You would have never spoken to him in this way, yet, the anger and sadness that took a hold on you was so, it turned into pure bitterness instead. 

Yet it was your father who stood up from the table and walked towards you, grabbing you from your shoulders. 

“You are my pride and joy”, he said then, making your eyesight fall on him, he again, did not use endearment in his tone, but as he was stating a fact that was obvious and he was tired of repeating. “I would only trust you with this important marriage” 

You yet bowed again

“Yes father”, you said quietly, not believing him. Or not caring if anything. 

You were not going to have even a proper wedding, you were going to be dispatched to this man… a man twice your age… big and loud as the storm itself

“May I be excused father?”, you asked quietly, eyes lowered 

“Fuck”, he cursed, knowing you well, “yes”, he said finally, after exhaling

As you walked directly back to your chambers you gazed upon every detail in the hallways and room you walked by, watching every detail. You were going to miss this place, your home.

The weather was warm, yet dry, bright suns and clear skies, in winter it got quite chilly, but nothing your hearth couldn’t repel.

A hard contrast to Storm’s End though, the bay on which it stood trapped treacherous seas and tempestuous winds. 

Although it seemed that you were alone, you knew better as you walked by the hallways that lead back to the dining room

“Aegon, you should go to bed”, you said calmly, and there, behind a grand pillar, appeared your little brother

“What happened?”, he asked, those big eyes of his looking up at you in concern.

“I am betrothed", you told him with a soft smile, “I’m to be wed”

“With whom?”, he asked, frowning 

“With the man they call the laughing storm, Lyonel Baratheon”, you said shortly, and now truly his face lit up

“He is a knight!”, he said excitedly, you only chuckled while caressing his silver locks, “and a very good one”

“Yeah, he is supposed to be”, you said simply

“He laughs at tourneys”, he said matter of factly, “while knocking other knights off their horses”, he completed

“Is that so?”, you asked, your conflicted heart being lifted up by your little brother

“He is one of the greatest knights of this time, if you ask me”, he said, “one of the tallest certainly”

“He is tall”, you agreed

“Do you think he’ll let me be his squire?”, he asked then, smiling widely

“Oh well, I don’t think why not, if I, his betrothed, ask him nicely”, you said, a smile finally appearing in your mouth.

You’d do anything to see Aegon happy

He was the sweetest and kindest child, and your closest sibling. Not in age, but in sympathy, the one you kept closest to your heart. 

“Oh, great!”, he said, “do you think one day your children will be knights as well?”, he asked, oh and that… 

Children

“I hope so, if it pleases them, and my husband”, he truly seemed to think about it, and then his face lit up again

“Do you think it would please your husband for me to go with you?”, he asked then, and you didn’t know what to say, “To Storm’s End? to live with you?”, you smiled then

“I think that once my husband gets to know you, he’ll have to say yes”, you offered, he just smiled softly, with hope.

All of you wanted to get out of Summerhall, especially if Aerion kept living here, you’d hope he’d marry and release you from the torment of his presence, and yet… no luck

“Now go to sleep Eggy”, you called gently, he only smiled and nodded, jumping away from your sight. 

You fell asleep without the help of the maids which you rejected, and hugged your pillow tightly. The only comfort being the thought of Aegon going with you to Storm’s End

The morning though, woke you up with two big pair of eyes gazing down on you

“Sister!”, cried Daella, “You are to be wed!”, she celebrated

“How could you not tell us?”, asked Rhae, the littlest one. They stood three and ten and eight respectively, every day they grew larger. 

“I just been told last night”, you said, forcing a smile upon your lips

“Can we help in the making of your maiden cape?”, asked Rhae, “I was thinking that it could have two BIG dragons throwing fire out of their mouths and burning a holdfast!”, she said with big eyes that promised trouble. You couldn’t help but giggle

“Well, I do love the idea that it has dragons in it”, you offered

“Shall I pluck flowers from the garden?”, asked Daella, “for the decorations?”, but then she interrupted herself, “no, better yet, we should have them sent from Highgarden itself!”, she said then, “oh! oh! what is your dress going to look like?”, she asked then

“Are you going to go away to live with your husband?”, asked Rhae and suddenly everything turned real.

“Yes”, you offered softly, “I shall go and live in Storm’s End”

“You are lucky!”, said Daella, “that is Storm’s End and not Winterfell”

She had a point, Storm’s End was a couple of days ride away, Winterfell could take two months

Oh if only you had dragons

Rhae seemed particularly shaken off by that fact

“She is right”, you said, “Storm’s End is closest”, you said carefully, arranging one of her silver locks behind her ear

“But…. you are going to leave us”, she said, “to live with a man”, you couldn’t help but chuckle at that

“Well yes, with my Lord Husband”, you said, the fact that you were closest did make you relax just a bit… if anything goes wrong you could just come back.

You shook your head vanishing those thoughts

You couldn’t possibly abandon your husband, furthermore, nothing was going to go wrong, right? He was the head of his house, House Baratheon, loyal to your house and as your uncle has said… as much as one and the same with your own

. . .

It was a week later that the committee started towards Ashford. Where you were set to meet your future husband. You decided to ride with your uncle and cousin, preferring them to the company of your father and brother Aerion. 

“You look positively defeated cousin”, offered Valarr as he stopped his horse right next to you in the courtyard. 

“It feels though I am”, you said back sadly, as you adjusted the saddle of your horse. 

“Is it true then, you are to be married to the Laughing Storm himself?”, he asked then, and that surprised you, this is the most interest your cousin has even showed you 

“Apparently so”, you whispered, “I am to be presented to him at the tourney”, you offered

“He is a fearsome knight”, he added, “tall and broad”

“So they say”, you continued, “is he decent though?”, you asked him back

“He is… different”, he said, not convinced, you didn’t want to dwell on what that meant. “You are not to ride a carriage?”, he asked

“I prefer to ride my horse, enjoy my liberties while I still have them”, he didn’t know what to say then, but he didn’t have to, your sisters appeared, wide-eyed, holding back their tears. 

“You are to leave now?”, asked Daella

“I will return for the wedding”, you said, and your sisters seemed as gloom as you felt, “I’Il expect to see the garden plucked from all its flowers”, you tried, and you managed to make them smile, “and my maiden cape with those fiery dragons we discussed, yes?”, you asked, and they nodded. You gave each of them a kiss and you turned from them before a tear escaped you.

“Where's Egg and Daeron?”, you asked, hoping that some of the people around you would answer

“They rode ahead”, answered one of your guards, and you frowned upon that, you didn’t like it, not one bit. But Daeron was a knight and Aegon his squire, so you couldn’t even comment on the fact.

So you started your journey

It was going to take you four days to get to Ashford. 

By the third day you were certain you were going to make it, but the sun wasn’t even setting yet and you had to stop to make camp again. You didn't understand why you had to bring so many things with you, they slowed you down, you had to make camp sooner than you’d do if you were with horses alone. 

You hadn’t even unsaddled, too restless to make camp. 

You wanted to get to Ashford, for the first night of the tournament, but alas, you were not going to be able to. 

So when nobody was paying attention, you spurred your horse and galloped away from the chosen meadow. 

Soon after you heard another set of hooves riding alongside you, when you looked, you found Valarr himself, you couldn't hide your surprise 

“Let’s go meet your betrothed", he said simply, and you were not going to fight it. You only nodded, and you galloped towards Ashford, you were going to get there when the night had already fallen over. 

Ashford was alive with colorful tents and excitement all over. The camp had doubled the size of the town itself; you had been to tourneys before, including the ones at King’s Landing, or at Summerhall itself, so you were not particularly impressed. Especially now since you had somewhere to be.

You entered the tent as unsuspectantly as you could, trying not to draw much attention to yourselves.

Leaving your guards at your camp, you were on your own with Valarr. He might look like a normal noble, but you did not, so you decided to hide your silver hair under a silk arrangement, that it was common amongst highborn ladies to use such garments.

You looked everywhere, suddenly quite nervous, so much so you stumbled upon a Lord who looked at you disapprovingly

“Calm yourself”, demanded Valarr

The guard posted at the entrance of the tent threatened to reveal your royal presence, by trying to claim the attention so he could announce you. 

“Shut it”, Valarr said quickly, giving him a couple of coins, the man barely nodded and retreated back outside.

It was easy to spot, your betrothed.

He sat in the main table, dressed in black and gold, and an Antler crown atop his head as he watched the room while he ate, relaxed, sitting on his side

For some reason, you couldn’t stop looking at him. 

With your eyes still on him you sat down at a table whose patrons were deep in their cups, without having to wait too long they brought you food and ale to wash it down. Your cousin and you remained in silence, watching everyone around you like you were analyzing a battle strategy. Luckily the hour was late, everyone was drunk so they didn’t notice you both, sitting there looking gloom. 

“Do you think he has mistresses?”, you asked as you saw him chatting it up with men from his table, and a lady, who sat nearby. 

“It would be strange if he didn’t”, he admitted, your cousin stood your senior for a couple of years, and he was married. As the crown Prince he knew about such things, having interacted with many Lords and living his life at King’s Landing court, the most dangerous one, you may say. 

You felt the gaze of many upon you, and you didn't find quarrel with that, you were wearing a fine cape, embroidered in black, red and gold, your hair completely covered. 

You made sure that no dragon sigils were on sight, but you could have missed it, you had so many clothes embroidered with the mythical beast of your house you almost seemed to miss them when you saw them. 

You tried to focus your gaze somewhere else, but his laugh drew you to him yet again, his booming laughter seemed to quiet everything else for the longest seconds. 

Yes perhaps he might not be cruel, fat, or advanced in years, but he certainly enjoyed his cups. A drunk then, the question is whether drink would turn him cruel or a fool. In the short seconds you were there you saw him drink at least two whole cups of it.

Please look at me

You begged

Recognize me in a sea of people, see me as you intended, as the one you wanted.

Recognize me. 

But he didn’t seem to, he laughed again at something someone said.

But you were wrong

He had spotted you, since the second you entered. 

“Do you see that Lady? there, in the corner”, he called to his bannermen. His cousin looked towards the table Lord Lyonel had pointed out with the tip of his knife

“I think that’s Valarr Targaryen”, he said

“I said the lady you idiot”, he snapped

“Oh right, she is beautiful, my lord”, he said, his eyes set on you

“Look away you cunt”, he whispered, his younger cousin looked away immediately, looking back at Lyonel instead. “That’s her”, he said, licking his teeth with the tip of his tongue

“Your betrothed?”, he asked, amazed, “congratulations my Lord, she is quite breathtaking"

“Yes she is… a curious little thing… we were not supposed to officially meet until tomorrow, yet, there she stands, pretending no one was going to notice her, just to gaze upon me”, he teased. 

As soon as you turned your eyes back to him he pretended he hadn't seen you, looking back at his cousin

“She is the eldest daughter to Maekar Targaryen”, he said

“The Anvill?”, he asked, “they say all his children are little shayts”, laughed one at the table

“They say that when a Targaryen is born… the Gods flip a coin, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land”, Lyonel whispered to his cousins, “madness and greatness being the faces of said coin”

“And what are ya’ gonna do now, ey?”, asked his youngest cousin. 

“Find out what side she is”, he answered teasingly. 

“Well cousin, there she is… like a Doe in a meadow"

“Now this stag is going to start his courtship of his doe”, he teased. He looked at the tallest man he had ever seen, eating close to you, so he called him over to this table, to begin his plan for courtship for tonight.

You couldn’t stop looking at him.

He had called a large man to speak to him at his table, they exchanged a few heated words, and then Ser Lyonel announced, quite loudly, that the dancing shall start.

You gazed in amazement how everyone there seemed to know what to do. After everyone was satiated with food and drink, they stood up from their tables and began to dance, the musicians at one end of the huge pavilion began playing more lively music. And the whole thing turned from a simple dinner with bannermen and friends, to a whole party. 

And Lyonel Baratheon right in the thick of it

“Well, there he stands, dashing husband”, Valarr teased 

“For the gods”, you whispered. He was dancing right in the middle of the tent, quick on his feet and in his expressive hand movements. His dark curls bounced with his movements and his slutty tongue came out to play when he smiled with his sharp teeth. He was fooling around dancing with the tallest man you had ever seen. By the looks of him you doubted he was even a knight. 

Insanity

A brand new wave of feelings unknown to you came rushing.

A strange mix between curiosity, astonishment and excitement rolled together in your belly despite believing you knew better and you should be completely revolted.

Yes perhaps he might not be cruel, fat, or advanced in years, but he certainly enjoyed his cups. A drunk then, the question is whether drink would turn him cruel or a fool.

“I think I’ve seen enough”, you said, you grabbed your cousin by the arm and took him with you out of the storm. 

When he was done playing, when he had danced to impress you, to court you, to woo you, he was ready to grab you by the arm and dance with you, only then he noticed you were gone, and probably had missed his dance.

“So he is a drunk and a fool”, you said, back outside, “and dresses like a Braavosi pirate”

“It could be worse”, offered Valarr, “he could be drunk and cruel”, he said then, you sighed loudly, feeling utterly defeated.

You believed now you didn’t know where you were going to sleep, you had travelled incognito and without your escorts, servants, your whole house, including the freaking tents. 

“You enter the lists tomorrow and I dragged you here unguarded with no place to properly rest, cousin, I’m sorry”

“Believe me you couldn’t have make me do anything”, he said, you retrieved your horses and mounted, deciding to step away from Ashford 

You decided to spend the night in an inn in the outskirts of Ashford, you were lucky to find two rooms. Not that you could sleep much, gazing upon the uneven ceiling of the room, as you thought about what your future held for you.

You, as a high born lady and princess to the seven kingdoms, also knew you were in trouble.

You knew it as soon as you woke up and everything you had done the night before came rushing back to you. You had escaped camp and travelled alone, taking the crown prince with you.

Valarr seemed to realise the same thing as he knocked on your door when the sun wasn’t even shining yet and you both took your horses and galloped back to camp.

As soon as you were near it a King’s guard led you back to the big tent where Baelor and your father were. Your father was pacing angrily across the pavilion, and as soon as he saw you he was so enraged you truly believed he was going to strike you for the very first time in your life. 

“I have all my children running wild across the fucking Reach!”, he said angrily, “but you? YOU?”, he asked, and you knew that face, he was furious, “as Daeron and Aegon?”

“They are missing?”, you asked, alarmed, “how?”

“Perhaps I shall put fucking collars and chains around your necks”, he threatened, “and then I’ll hand yours to Lyonel Baratheon”

“Brother…”, began Baelor

“I just wanted to see him”, you said sadly, “my betrothed", you then looked at your uncle, “I dragged Valarr into this, I’m very sorry your grace”

“I’m your uncle, child, treat me as such”, he said with a gentle smile, “Valarr knows what he can and cannot do, he certainly went with you because he believed it was the right thing to do, I have no quarrel with that”, you smiled sadly at him, then back at your father, who seemed disgusted at your deference with your uncle while you lost yours to him. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you were displeased at what you saw”, he said, “the decision is taken, you shall marry that man”, you looked down at your feet and nodded

“Yes father”. Was he going to be displeased when he arrived at Ashford, waiting to see your betrothed to find him hungover, or worse, still in his cups?

You had to ride back to Ashford, this time, behind your bannermen, at your father’s side that he made you swear not to leave it. Thankfully, Aerion rode ahead

You had made a master of avoiding the little shit.

So you entered Ashford around midday, to be received by the gracious hosts, stable boys who took your reins for you, and a clutch of servants to attend you. It was all quite overwhelming as your head was filled with thoughts about Lyonel, the ones you had seen from last night. 

Was he going to present himself to your father and uncle?

He was supposedly awaiting for a response to his request, he had asked for your hand and this was the answer.

The details were haunting you.

You felt the heavy look of your father on you, as you remained atop your horse, but when you noticed, you unsaddled, giving the reins to the awaiting stable boy

“Thank you”, you say, making him blush

“Your grace”, he answered, bowing profusely. 

“Please, see that she gets good grains, and an apple if it pleases you”, you said, handling him a couple of dragons, he saw the coins and his eyes lit up.

“O-of course, your grace!”, he said quickly, and handled your horse as if she was made of glass. 

Your father again has this displeased look upon him

“Are my children, Daeron and Aegon here yet?”, he asked to the master of games

“No, your grace”

Hell broke loose

You were quick to admit that you didn't feel like it was a serious matter, but now you were beginning to truly worry. Daeron was a drunk, and he could easily sleep by while something befalls Egg and himself

“Father, if it pleases you… I could aid in the search”, with one look from him you got quiet again.

“I send one of our Kingsguard with a squadron of soldiers, they will find Daeron and bring him back to me”, he said angrily, “Stay near, you hear?”, he demanded, and left you alone outside while he entered the castle. 

“Most gracious lady”, began the Lord Ashford, “if you please, this is Gwin, my daughter”, he said proudly taking the shoulders of a beautiful girl

“It’s an honor to meet you Gwin”, you said with the kindest smile you were able to produce. Her smile was bright and her face exuded excitement 

“The honor is mine your grace”, she said quickly, “you are as beautiful as they say”

“Not as beautiful as you, our gracious host”, you said back, making lord ashford smile proudly, “here, in your honor”, your personal guard brought forwards a gift you has selected for her, and you were pleased you had managed to make her happy, it was her birthday after all.

“Our gracious Lady, we’ll show you to your apartments”, you nodded and followed obediently, you did not want to anger your father further, and less of it be unkind to your hosts.

You wanted to participate in the activities in the tournament, but again you felt like you could barely move. You feel paralyzed. Yes you had been trained in all kinds of displaying pleasantries but in this case, you did not know what to do. 

You had barely sat down at your bed in the castle, when a shaky guard had come to fetch you. 

Your father wanted to see you. 

In a big dining room stood your uncle, Lord Ashford, Lord Tyrell, and your father, who awaited your presence. 

You didn’t even get the chance to greet the Lord of the Reach before the sound of the doors opening behind you made you look towards the entrance, and there it was.

Lyonel Baratheon, the laughing storm himself.

Prince Baelor, first in line to the Iron Throne was in the room and yet, once his eyes found yours, he never left them

The men were sitting behind a wooden table and it seemed they had left you alone with him, as nothing separated the two of you.

“Princess”, he said first and foremost to you, and his thick voice made you weak in the knees because of the nervousness.

“My Lord”, you greeted, he took your hand in his and kissed it, not once looking away. And only once he had done so, and it would seem more improper than it already was, he turned to the most important people in the room.

“Your grace”, he said first to your uncle and then your father, he then formally greeted Lord Ashford and his equal, Lord Tyrell.

“Lord Lyonel”, began your uncle, “you had asked me for the hand of a Princess of House Targaryen”, he said, and then he nodded towards you, “The House of the dragon is pleased to give you the hand of Princess (Y/N), eldest daughter of Maekar Targaryen”.

You were afraid of this interaction, for what you witnessed the night before, he was quick to joke and drink, you were surprised he showed himself as last night didn’t even happen. He looked like the man he represented, the Lord of Storm’s End.

“It’ll be my honor to wed the daughter of the Anvill”, he said, bowing to your uncle. He then turned back to you, making you jump in your place, yet he took your hand gently in his. 

“Do you accept this betrothal?", he asked you, and even though you appreciated the gesture, it is not that you could refuse it now. You looked at your father, who was looking at the whole thing with disgust

“Y-yes my lord”, you said, looking back at him. You were surprised that you could mutter a single word, as your throat was dry. He did not seem pleased, not at all, if anything, he seemed disheartened. 

You both stood side by side, joined in hands. You pleaded to the seven for him not to feel how sweaty your hands were, his were big and warm yet incredibly dry, like he wasn’t nervous at all.

“After the tournament is over”, your father said slowly and surely, “we’ll return to Summerhall, where you will wed, then you can travel back to Storm’s End, arriving there as Lady Baratheon”

“Yes father”, you felt your future husband’s gaze on you

“Lord Lyonel, we should discuss things, in private, regarding the dowry, and other matters of importance”, said Baelor. Lyonel looked at you once again.

“Shouldn’t she be part of this conversation, your grace?”, he asked, and that surprised you greatly, as he did not let go of your hand but grabbed it more tightly.

“Out”, demanded your father, looking right at you, you just bowed, smiling shyly at Lyonel. He begrudgingly let go of your hand. You retrieved yourself from the room.

As you were exiting the room, Lord Ashford’s daughter, Gwin, called you and led you to an adjacent corridor from which you could actually see and hear everything that was being said in the room you just abandoned, if you were careful not to be spotted. 

“Her dowry will consist of 300.000 gold dragons”, began your uncle, which made you gasp, you could buy a small holdfast with that money, and maintain it for the rest of your life.

“What is the intended use of said coin?”, asked Lyonel, and you have never seen him more serious than now. 

“For the keep of her dignity”, said your father between greeted teeth. 

“I don’t see the point, if she is to become my wife… I won’t give her back”, only then he drew a foolish smile, but your uncle was not impressed.

“Well, what if she fails to give you children?”, he asked then. “what if you die before she even can?”, he asked again, “what then??”

“Well… then she can keep her dowry herself”, he said, “I’m Lyonel of House Baratheon, I have no need of my wife’s purse”, he said firmly, and you would never admit to anyone but yourself, but that made you tingle… “she has a voice of her own and she can make her own decisions”, he kept pressing. 

Perhaps he was truly not going to be your jailer but your savior.

Alright, you had to admit he was handsome, he was tall and broad as they said he was, and gallant when he was not in his cups.

“Very well”, said Baelor

“We’ll be taking residence in Storm’s End”, he continued, “Where she will have her own apartments”

“I’m giving you my daughter for her to be your companion, for you to have heirs with her, not lock her up in her own fucking apartments”, grunted your father. 

“Brother”, chided Baelor

“Fuck me”, your father grunted again

“I’m sure she’ll give me many heirs”, said Lyonel, “we’ll certainly for them”, you felt your cheeks completely heated, and an anxiousness in your belly.

Your father was not again impressed, if anything he seemed disgusted, but that wasn’t an odd expression if you knew him.

Lord Lyonel had this strange look on his face, like he had achieved something he’d long for too long, something he truly desired. You wouldn’t know why though.

The talk soon turned to other matters, and you did not want to encounter him again, so you retired to your rooms where a hot bath and a change of clothes awaited you. Your father disapproved of you wearing your riding attire, the one your foremothers would have worn to ride dragons, with leather pants and boots underneath a robe made to look like a dress. So for tonight, you were dressed in a dark red gown.

You sat beside Aerion, to your displeasure, you truly hoped he wouldn’t even speak to you. Luckily there were many things to keep him and you distracted, knights of the great houses began jousting tonight, many of them already at the ring, warming up their horses.

You recognized immediately the distinctive black stag over a golden field on the other side of the jousting ring. And a towering man atop his horse with the antlered helmet. Which you had seemed to have called him in thought, as he rode his beautiful black stallion towards where you stood with the royal family and your gracious hosts.

“My Lady”, he greeted, offering you his lance, “My future wife, will you be so kind, to give me your favor?”, the entire box went crazy, with cheers and whistles, “to ensure my safety and my victory”

You didn’t know what to do, you looked at your father for guidance, and he looked back at you with those eyes that were calling you an idiot and to do as he pleased.

You stood up from your seat and walked to the edge of the platform, 

“Of course My Lord”, you offered him the crown your ladies in waiting had made for you for this same purpose, and you slid one down his lance. He laughed as he rode away victoriously, and you couldn’t help but be incredibly blushed as you returned to your place, a strange feeling of excitement making your belly warm. You saw him take the crown and put his whole arm inside it, that way he kept it close while the lance could get destroyed and he would have to change it at the end of each race 

“He isn’t that great a knight”, said Aerion disdainfully, breaking into your bubble, “perhaps I shall challenge him tomorrow, and make his horse crush him, so I’ll free you from his torment”

“Perhaps your steed shall fall upon you and release us all from your torment”, you snapped back, he looked at you like he would all those who crossed him but where beneath him, you only held his gaze in defiance 

“I will bring you his head, and take you to wife instead”, he whispered, “the dragon shall have what its owed”, he threatened

“I'd rather jump from the highest tower of Summerhall”, you said back. But he didn’t get to answer, the joust had begun and you looked at the representatives of all the great houses.

You looked at your cousin Valarr.

He certainly represented your house with grace and dignity, and you felt proud of being a Targaryen with him as your champion. He was a great man. And he was to make a great King, you knew that.

You’d miss the Tully eating the fish, but then your gaze was solely on Lyonel, who spurred his horse against the Hightower Lord.

The first clash was brutal.

You have to admit you enjoyed the tourneys. The energy was electric, the whole compound screaming in excitement as the horses rode against one another. You jumped and gasped at each facing, especially when the lords started falling from their horses. 

Some even crushed over the wooden palisade, the poor horses screaming in agony. That’s the only thing you did find regretful, they weren’t at fault for their rider’s misgivings or lack of skill. 

But they certainly paid for it. 

The energy of the meadow at night as the joust was being executed was something that was going to remain in your memory for a long time to come, especially as you were gazing upon your dashing future husband. 

Your eyes found Lyonel again, and you found him still atop his horse

What if he hurt himself? Or worse, what if he got killed?

Only when there was only him left, he faced the greatest knight the seven kingdoms had ever seen, Ser Tyrell, they faced off against one another, fresh spears at hand and the last race of their horses.

The crash was clean, he got pushed right off his horse. He fell heavily into the ground making you gasp, gaining the attention of the ones around you.

But he stood back up quickly, and unharmed, he took the flower crown you gifted him and kissed it, as if he was thanking it for saving him. 

Maybe, just maybe, marrying a drunkish Braavosi pirate looking tower of a man wasn’t so bad.

Although you had to admit you were disappointed when he didn’t ask you to dine with him, or come to his tent to share a meal after the tourney was over.

You guessed he wanted to celebrate, and not be bothered by pleasantries and dignities 

That night the feasts and parties of the meadow wouldn’t let you sleep as you laid on your bed, looking at the ceiling. 

. . .

“Useless cunts!”, your father cursed at the soldier who brought the news of failure of the search party, you jumped in your place under the eyes of your host at the breakfast table, “I will go and find them myself”

“Yes your grace”, he said, alarmed and running away from the dining room 

Lord Ashford was about to have the third nervous breakdown since your arrival.

“Shall I accompany you, father?”, you asked diligently

“No”, he said sharply, and abandoned the table mid breakfast.

“I think he intends to keep his remaining children together”, said your uncle, with the face of a man who seemed to have had his nervous system idled with the milk of the poppy long ago. For his own sake.

“Have I disappointed him so?”, you asked your uncle in confidence, “that he would treat me like this?”, you whispered

“You are his favorite child”, he said with the certainty he spoke of important things, “I know so”

“That’s why he treats me like I’m his biggest disappointment?”, you asked him.

“You will wed and move away”, he said carefully, “he is pushing you away to soothe his fatherly concerns”, he said simply 

“It was his idea”, you defended childishly

“Well, there was also a match for you from Lord Celtigar of Claw Island”, he continued, “and an offer from Lord Stark for his young son”, he continued, “Lord Lyonel was the closest to him”, he said looking at you intensely, “and the one I advise him to take”, you didn’t know what to say about that actually. You just smiled at your uncle shyly.

“Thank you uncle”, you wouldn’t know how you would have fair so far from your home.

“Join me at watching the jousting today”, he said lightly, grabbing your hand over the table, you smiled softly at him.

“It’d be an honor My Lord, to watch the jousting by your side”, you offered with a smile, which pleased him. 

What you didn't take into account, was Aerion… that was your mistake.

You used your riding gear that day, matching with your uncle with a crimson one shoulder cape fixed with a silvery chain with a dragon head over your shoulder, you sat proudly next to your hosts ready to watch the jousts for today.

“One day, I wish I’m betrothed to a dashing knight, just like you”, Gwin whispered to you, you smiled back at her. 

“I’m sure your father will arrange the perfect union for you”, you assured her, and you truly believed that. Lord Ashford clearly adored his daughter, he threw this whole event just to show her off. You smiled back at Lord Ashford, “now that it has the support of a princess of the realm behind it”, you said aloud for his years, and he couldn’t seem more proud. Baelor looked at you and nodded. 

And you felt like a kid who just had been told their parents was proud of them. 

You squeezed Gwin’s hand and she smiled softly at you.

But then the already gloomy day seemed to become gloomer, as Aerion himself presented right in front of you. In that ridiculous armour, but once you looked at his steed, you gasped, enraged from a  second to the next

“That’s my horse!”, you said aloud, jumping from your seat ready to jump the fucker. Your uncle grabbed your hand as you looked back at him with angry eyes

It was your mare, a beautiful horse which you had since you could learn how to ride a horse, she was your trusted companion, she had birthed many beautiful foals and she had the sweetest temper and just beautiful, she had a black undercoat, her tail and mane were also black, and then her coat was ashy grey. With expressive greyish eyes.

You couldn't say anything else, not with everyone looking at you like you were about to make a scene.

But horses died in the jousts.

“Ashflake”, you whispered sadly, watching as Aerion gave you the most shit eating grin you had seen him and rode off ready to choose an opponent. “She is not a jousting horse”, you said to your uncle, who seemed like someone stole his horse too

“I’m so very sorry”, he whispered to you

“Why would he do that?”, you knew very well why; you had offended him the night before, so now, he was going to endanger your horse and probably get her killed. “She will most likely drop him”, you lamented, and that was the best part of it… 

You had stopped feeling guilty about wishing your brother ill, since you could remember he had been tormenting you. There was something truly wrong with him, and if he were gone, your family, and the realm would be safer. 

“She is going to get killed”, you whispered sadly, watching intently how he trotted to the end of the line where Valarr’s tent was, your cousin stood up from his seat to father Aerion, they seemed to exchange a few words but then he trotted to the next knight, one from a lesser house. 

The crowd was not pleased, you could see it in their faces as Aerion shitflame took place on top of Ashflake (name you had put on yourself when you were five years old).

The horn blew and the horses started their race.

She was a horse of seventeen years of age, she was still considered young, or at least in your eyes, and had a stable run and she was strong and sturdy, so she galloped obediently as Aerion faced the other knight. But it was your ill brother who you were describing, he avoided the other knight, making him lose balance as he tried to unhorse him. You breathed a bit more easily now that she had survived the first round. 

But the second came too quickly, and this time, your brother lowered his spear dangerously, and of course, he was not aiming for the knight.

The spear went through the other's horse’s neck.the poor beast fell through the wooden palisade, crushing the knight on top of him. The man screamed in agony. his leg was crushed.

The crowd turned sour, booing and cursing at Aerion, who seemed so pleased with himself. Someone threw a horse shit on him, and it was worse once the guard tried to find the culprit and grab him.

He had ruined the whole morning of jousting.

The already clouded sky finally broke, and it started to rain.

Thankfully it was not a strong, tourney-cancelling rain, but more like a drizzle, enough to pause it though. 

You decided to find your betrothed, if he did not wish to get to know you, you would get to know him… 

He wasn’t easy to find, but when you did, you wish you didn’t

“Alice was a special lass, born bereft ‘er thumb… lost a digit tending flock, now feeling awfully glum HEY!” You watched with an even face how your future husband-to-be sang at the top of his lungs, without his shirt on, but with his antlers on. The other men and woman on the tent joined him 

“Oh! Alice with three fingers… A copper in her glass… Had two fingers less than most… She'll shove them up your arse, hey!...”, he put himself on all fours while one of his men pretended to do what Alice had done… “I once gave her a silver, feeling down and lone… I tried to buy a pinky, but I got the whole arm bone… Oh! Alice with three fingers never had a lot… She gave me all she had to give… Two more than what was sought… Oh! Two more than what I bought!”, again, it seemed like everytime you saw him… it was too much

You left that tent feeling awfully glum, like Alice did when she lost her second finger.

You wished you knew who she was… she seemed like she was a woman who saw the good side of things, made the best of situations and was altogether positive about stuff happening to her. 

Maybe you needed to be more like Alice, you turned back to the tent and thought about joining the party to avoid the rain. 

Yes he might have a drinking problem but at least he was cheery, and merry, and had friends… and maybe he wasn’t an angry/violent drunk

Maybe like Alice you needed to make the best of your three fingers.

Your hair was soaked when you finally decided to return to the tent

This time, he saw you as soon as you entered the tent, he had finished singing and joined you

“Ale! the fine one, for my betrothed!”, he said as he walked towards you, you heard cheers and whistles and you wished you didn’t come here, where everyone could see you.

He was still missing his shirt when he reached you, with that silly, teethy smile.

“You are soaking wet”, he said, “and we are not even married yet”, he teased, you didn’t know where to hide. 

“I-I…”, you stammered 

“You are so beautiful”, his big hands caressed your wet hairs, drawing them back from your face, you were so shocked that he had dared to touch you, you couldn’t move. “Give me a kiss”, he demanded

“That wouldn’t be proper, Ser”, you didn’t know if you should call him a Lord or a Ser, he was a knight, yet, he was the Lord of Storm’s End after his father’s passing last year.

“It's not proper to kiss the man that is to become your husband?”, he asked then, without losing his smile, he then turned his face, his big antler crown almost colliding with the top of your head. He gave you his cheek

“Here”, he invited, and you guessed you could do that. You leaned in to kiss his cheek where his beard ended, and he turned his face at the last second, you caught the corner of his mouth

He laughed then, pleased, as did everyone, he then placed his big antler crown on your own head. 

The singing and dancing resumed shortly after and everything seemed to revolt around you both. And made you incredibly nervous.

You took your time to gaze upon his naked chest, riddled with muscle underneath blemished skin, you did not mind the scars, you believed they were sexy.

He placed his hands on your hips, to keep you there, to control you. 

“My doe”, he teased, looking at the big antlers. The crown was heavy, the hurt in your neck came quickly. “Give me a kiss”, he demanded again.

But a presence too overwhelming to let pass stood right by your side, you turned your head to look at Ser Donnel, looking at you with that shit eating grin

“Your grace”, he said, he didn’t even come to fetch you, he just wanted you to know he was watching you. You let out a breath and took out the antler crown yourself, handling it back to Lord Lyonel

“You have to remove the crown with a kiss, it’s the rules", he teased, but your mood was soured, “you owe me!”, he claimed 

But you walked away.

It was raining outside but you did not care as you walked back to the castle, Ser Donnel hot on your trail.

“I came to fetch your grace because there was a problem at the stables”, he said. You stopped and looked at him

You ran towards where they kept your mare, but when you got there, it was too late.

She laid on the hay, barely breathing. 

Even from a few feet away you could see her chest tightening

“What’s wrong?”, you screamed, “fetch someone!”, not even the stable boys knew what to do, you kneeled on the wet stable floors with her, only when she felt you she seemed to relax under your touch

“Ashflake”, you whined, crying, chest tightening, “what is happening?”

“Her heart, your grace, couldn’t take the excitement of the tourney”, whispered the master of horses behind you. 

You let out a gut wrenching sound as you felt her give her last breath, dying in your arms. 

You saw red, blood, you had a taste for it. 

Your brother was not hard to find, the idiot stood outside his pompous tent, and your father’s maze wasn’t hard to find either, you had it in your hand as you walked hastily towards him

“AERION!”, you called, drawing the attention of everyone who stood near. 

“Come to support me sister?”, he mocked, “sorry I had to change horses, yours was old and…”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”, you swung at him.

It was almost poetic how his face went from mockery, to surprise, to fear as he saw the weapon coming straight for his dumb face.  

He leaned back, missing the deadly blow for mere centimeters, but it did caught his helmet which turned on his head. You heard with satisfaction the loud crack his nose made once it got caught on the edge of that ridiculous helmet he had commissioned.

He stumbled back completely blind, his helmet twisted and covering his face where it should his side.

It was so satisfactory, but not quite… You came back for him, to take another blow at him, when two white cloaks grabbed you, one by the arm that held the weapon and the other on your opposing shoulder 

“DOn’t fucking touch me!”, you cursed, dropping the maze and releasing yourself from their hold

“Your grace, we did not mean to harm you, just protect him”, Ser Donnel explained 

“Well, fuck you both!”, you cursed walking away from them as Aerion stumbled around blind. 

Aerion needed the help of the both of them to release himself from the mishapen helmet but he did not suffer other major injuries other than the broken nose… unfortunatly.

It had stopped raining when you buried Ashflake underneath a tree on the outskirts of Ashford, the stable boys and horse master was too kind to indulge you in the rites to say goodbye to your precious mount. 

You had stopped crying when you returned.

To find hell has broken loose over Ashford.

Your brother was safe and sound, but serving a Hedge Knight, which he brulized Aerion while defending a treacherous puppet show… Your father was on his way… and someone had to pay… 

. . .

You rubbed your forehead as you closed your eyes, begging the seven for guidance and strength.

“You did what?”, you asked Daeron

“The Hedge Knight, took Aegon from the Inn”, he said

“Oh and he took him to Ashford, where we were?”, you asked then, “that’s fortunate”, your uncle was looking at you sharing your concerns, and Maekar just grunted

“This fucking Hedge Knight took your brother”, he said, “and then he brutally attacked Aerion!”, 

“But he didn’t, father!”, said your baby brother, who was now bald, and dressed in clothes no better than rags.

“You don’t get to speak!”, he said, enraged, “And don’t you think I don’t know what you did?!”, your father rose from his chair and pointed his finger at you. “YOU TRIED TO KILL YOUR BROTHER BECAUSE OF A FUCKING HORSE!?”, you believed you had never seen him this angry.

“It was my horse!”, you cried back, “MY COMPANION!”, you screamed back, surprising even yourself. “He killed her for his own pleasure!”, you tried to explain 

“Would you rather have your brother killed for an animal that is dumber than a dog?”, he asked, enraged

“Yes!”, you said without hesitation. it was like lighting a candle near wild fire. 

“And you were seen kissing Lyonel Baratheon in front a tent full of people, like a whore”

Something inside you cracked open in shame and sadness.

Your father had never insulted you, and left you sitting there with your eyes filled with tears.

Everything was worse now. Your father walked away from the room, leaving you and your brothers alone. Daeron just chuckled, pouring himself another cup of wine. 

“You think this is funny?”, you snapped at Daeron, perhaps not the best idea to take it out on him, “that was incredibly stupid! someone could have truly taken Aegon!”, you said back. 

“I dreamed about you, sister”, he said, looking at you with those lost eyes of his, “I dreamed of a dragon, chained underneath the Dragon pit”

“The Dragonpit was destroyed brother”, you whispered sadly 

“Baratheon banners hanged from the tall building”, he continued, he then looked at you straight in the eye

“How do you know it was me?”, you asked him quietly

“Have you ever heard a dragon sing?”, he asked then, you shook your head softly

“I have”, he answered, “in my dreams”, he said, but he wasn’t boasting

“They must sound incredible”, you said

“This dragon song was your own”, he only said, not caring for praise. It didn’t quite make sense, but… you believed him. 

This was a warning. 

On the morrow, when facing a trial and possible execution after the vile accusations laid against him, the hedge knight, called Duncan, has demanded a trial by combat. And your idiot brother… had called for a trial of seven. 

Seven Knights against seven knights.

You didn’t know this man, but you certainly didn’t want Aerion to be victorious after what he did to those puppeteers, or what he has done this entire tourney, you wanted him to pay for his actions, you wanted it badly.

But not your father though, your father, the gods know why, wanted to protect him at all costs

Did he not see what your brother was? did he not care?

Aerion, Daeron, your father Maekar, and three King’s guards, half your family was drawn into this mess.

The morning was cold and gloomy, fog covered the valley and the jousting ring. 

It felt like a premonition. You gazed upon the side of the accusers, your family, getting ready, your father adjusting his intimidating armour, while his squire prepared his horse, you gazed upon the other side, certainly sadder, until you saw a familiar man, standing on the accused side.

No…

Lyonel

You couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing, your intended, your betrothed, that you were about to marry was on the Hedge knight’s side

Your feeling of uselessness was intoxicating, you wished you could do something more, you wished you were the strongest man there, to saddle your horse and joust just like them, to be a true knight, to fight alongside them, to protect them. 

To so something! but to stand there and whip like the ladies in the songs. 

With urgency, you walked towards your father 

“Are you really going to participate in this madness?”, you asked him. “Father, don't do this! please!”, you said urgently

“I need to defend my son’s honor”, he said sharply

“But look how far its gotten!”, you exclaimed, “defending Aerion”, he gave you that look, but you will not cower under it, not anymore, “let him fall on his own turmoil”, you urged, and he looked as disappointed in you as he was on the rest of his children. 

“Our guard will defend me”, he said surely, and you believed nobody could be dumb enough to try something against a prince of the realm. And your father was no weakling like his second and third brothers, his nickname, the anvill, had been earned. 

“Ser Lyonel will joust too”, you said weakly, and then as he adjusted his armour, his eyes found yours again. 

“You shall honor our agreement”, said your father severely, “and marry Ser Lyonel as promised, no matter the outcome”, and that made you ran cold. 

“Even if he strikes one of my siblings?”, you asked, “or you?”, he looked at you like he looked at your brothers, with disappointment

“Yes”, he said then, but once he gazed upon you with more intent, he eased his frown. He carefully placed his gloved hands around your face.

“I did not mean it”, he said, “you are no whore”, he said softly, “you had been playing your mother’s role since she passed, and it has been unfair”, you barely nodded, fat tears running down your cheeks, “I love you”, he said, kissing your forehead

“May the gods keep you father”, you said sadly as he released you, and you walked away from him, tot he other side

You did not care if the mud was up to your ankles, you walked towards Lyonel. 

He saw you coming standing there clad in his armour, he looked incredibly handsome. So much saw you stuttered, but you were on a mission. 

“Please don’t kill my father”, you said quietly, “or my brothers”

“Oh my dragonling, this is a trial of the seven”, he said lightly, “it’s the will of the gods now”, he teased, but your eyes alone told you were not joking as he liked to do.

“Please”, you begged. His hand was encasing your cheek

“Worry not, my intended”, he said, more serious this time, “I trust you’ll let me bloody up the King’s guard a bit?”, you nodded, as he smiled, “Good”, he said, pleased, he then leaned until you could feel his hot breath in your ear, “After I win this tournament”, he whispered, “No matter the outcome, I shall steal you…”, he began, and you rolled your eyes, “I’ll take you to Storm’s End and I shall make you mine”, he said with such gusto your own legs trembled. 

“Stop it”, you snapped, “this is serious”

“You sometimes are too serious”, he teased

“You expect to marry me after you struck down my family?”, you asked, enraged

“Just a couple of the King’s guard, yes”, he said, and you bowed down your head. His answers did not pelase you, this was a trial of the seven and anything could happen from here forwards

“I wish you good fortune on the fight to come”, you said firmly. “My lord”, you bowed your head and retreated under his unserious gaze, taking Egg with you as the trial was about to begin. 

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge to be just”, you turned as you heard Lyonel’s voice, he was knighting Raymun Fossoway, “In the name of the father, I charge you to be just”, his voice was so thick and electric, you were bessoted, “in the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the young and innocent, Arise, Ser Raymun, as a knight of the seven kingdoms”

Aegon pulled your hand, and you walked back to the stands.

“I hope you placed your trust in the right man”, you only said to your baby brother, who couldn’t really 

“I did”, he said with no hesitation. He might be a child, but after he told you everything that happened since he aprted from Daeron, you believed Aegon, even at his shot age, knew what he was doing. 

You sat by Lord Ashford’s side, he nodded at you, but your eyes found your family even across the fog. 

This was madness

But the hedge knight did not have enough men, he had only six, so maybe there wasn’t going to be a trial at all, maybe you were all going to be spared…

But relief was short-lived

Because Baelor himself trotted inside the ring, taking Ser Duncan’s side, as he proclaimed loudly for everyone to hear. 

The horn blew short minutes after…

The crash was brutal.

What it was worse is that you could barely see anything. You just saw a flash of yellow and black against one of the Kingsguaurds

Is what he wanted to do after all, ‘bloody up the King’s guards and their pretty white gowns”

There was so many things happening at the same time, you didn’t know where to look. 

The Hedge Knight was on foot, loosing his mount pretty early on, your father actually managed to throw some hits in, and even Aerion, you had to admit with sorrow, was a good fighter… Pretty decent at least. 

But then baelor himself came to intersect his brother. Your uncle was on foot yet he managed to drop Maekar off his horse, he flew through the air and even you in the stands could hear the grunt and the sound of his armour clinking against the mud. 

You could not care less about Aerion and the Hedge Knight, but your eyes were focused on your father who fought with Baelor, trying to get to him. He managed to push his own brother off of him, with a hit to the side of his head with his maze to go in rescue of Aerion who was kicking the shit kicked out of him.

That is when the silhouette of Lyonel himself appeared in the proximity, riding towards your father with dark intent. You held your breath when they collided. Maekar has grabbed a lanze and struck down Lyonel’s horse, making him fall off his poor mount into the mud.

“Father!”, you screamed, when he began running towards Aerion, he was intercepted by Lyonel and Baelor again, who tried by every means for him not to get to his son. 

The violence of it all is what made your skin crawl

They were in for the kill

You dind’t believe for a second that Lyonel did not intent to seriously injure your father, or kill him….

Two against one did not seem like a fair fight, but it happened anyway. 

Your father quickly proved why they called him the anvil, he hit Baelors helmet again, dropping his brother to the ground, and then, mae against sword as he fighted Lyonel. 

Lyonel was a great knight, maybe one of the best on this tourney, maybe only after Ser Leo Tyrell. But your father was a real fighter, he had fought in the rebellion, in real war, he fought to kill and to win. 

Your eyes wouldn’t leave their quarrel.

Until you heard gaps and gunts of surprise, only then you noticed Ser Duncan had dragged your brother towards the stands, where you were

“SAY IT!”, you heard him scream

“I withdraw my accusation!”, he said shakily his face bloodied. 

If only he had said it sooner.

As your father, brothers and bethrothed were spared… But not your uncle, as you’d soon discover

. . .

“You've done the realm a kindness. You'll see that one day. The only good dragon is a dead dragon”

“fսcking gods! Baelor fought for me. He gave his fսcking life!. Can you speak of him with a little respect, please?”

“fսck that, and fսck you! I fought for you. I-- Hardyng, Beesbury, the fucking apple boy, we fought for you. Your prince fought for you against men sworn to protect him. He risked nothing! And the gods don't favor a fraud”

“Then why have they favored me?”

“This is not favor, this... This is mockery…”, Duncan then he raised his eyes to look at Lyonel

“You are marrying the Targaryen Princess”, he said in a defeated whisper, “Aegon’s favorite sister… A dragon”, Lyonel looked back at him and smiled

“There's a war coming”, he only said. “We could be a force, you and I”. He said slowly, paladatiing the words, “You'll consider it?”

. . .

Post chapter notes: this is one big chapter, I was tired at the end there, so sorry if its not well described, but I trust we all saw the chapter. I just wanted to end it.