#ow&d

a song of ice and fire archive

a knight of the seven kingdoms

     ⟢ LYONEL "THE LAUGHING STORM" BARATHEON

A Princess of the Seven Kingdoms ✶ Part 2 ✶ Part 3 | targaryen! reader/oc | 27k words total

ao3 link

⟢In the In the year 87 AC, Princess Viserra Targaryen, daughter of King Jaehaerys I, snuck out of the Red Keep for one last night of laughter before her wedding only for the night to end with her tragic and untimely death. Now over a century later, in the year 209 AC, you follow in your namesake's footsteps. After your father, Prince Baelor, betroths you to your cousin, Aerion Brightflame, you sneak off to the tourney at Ashford Meadow for one last night of freedom before you are forced into a marriage you did not want. However, a night of passion in Ser Lyonel Baratheon's tent quickly threatens to unravel your carefully planned engagement, and you are forced to choose between duty or love, or risk losing it all... ⟢

Chapter 1 - Ashford | 8.8k words

Chapter 2 - The Prince | 8.9k words

Chapter 3 - The Horse and the Apple | 9.2k words

a song of ice and fire

  ⟢ STANNIS BARATHEON / FEMALE!JON SNOW (LYARRA TARGARYEN)

Of Wolves and Dragons | rhaegar wins! AU | 127k words total

ao3 link

⟢In a twist of fate, Rhaegar Targaryen survives the Battle of the Trident and the child born to him and Lyanna Stark is a girl instead of a boy. Incidentally, Stannis and Renly Baratheon are born later in history, changing the game of thrones forever. This is the story of the adventures of Princess Lyarra Targaryen and her relationship with Lord Stannis Baratheon in the years leading up to the Long Night. Or... Of Which a Stag Falls in Love with a Wolf... Only the Story Goes a Little Differently This Time... ⟢

daiya no a library

daiya no a (act i)

     ⟢ MIYUKI KAZUYA

Ace of Hearts ✶ Part 2 ✶ | female! reader/oc | 9.5k words total

ao3 link

⟢All I ever wanted to do was play baseball, so when Seido High School offers me a spot on their nationally ranked team, I jump at the chance. There was just one problem though. They all think I’m a guy. This is the story of a high school baseball player who exceeded everyone’s expectations. (Inspired by “Baseball Girl” by animelover099).⟢

Chapter 1 - March | 3.2k words

Chapter 2 - April | 6.3k words

aegon & lyarra: you’ve been avoiding me...

⋆˙⟡ sneak peak for chapter 13 of my long fic, "of wolves and dragons." now that i'm caught up with posting previews for the twelve previously posted chapters, i will now be posting sneak peaks for upcoming chapters for fun. enjoy. ⋆˚࿔

⟢ CHAPTER SUMMARY lyarra and company arrive at king's landing, where lyarra and rhaenys are accosted by a horde of potential suitors, and stannis is beginning to look like a decent alternative.

Aegon took his place beside Margaery Tyrell, who was looking at Lyarra’s brother like he was her entire world. They exchanged the usual pleasantries—Aegon kissed the top of her hand, and Margaery giggled and blushed accordingly. She leaned in to whisper something in Aegon’s ear, and he laughed like he was a boy again, his violet eyes shining with mirth and merriment and something Lyarra could not name.

Rhaenys snorted, not bothering to conceal her contempt. “Look at them preening like peacocks.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Lyarra said, taking a bite of her food.

“Sweet like poison,” Rhaenys said, sipping her wine.

“I know Margaery can come off a bit… false, but you should give her a chance. I did.”

“That just makes you gullible.”

Lyarra frowned at her sister.

“Do you seriously wish to fight on my first night home?”

Rhaenys’s expression softened.

“No, I don’t. I just can’t stand to see Aegon falling into her trap.”

“You know, sister,” Lyarra began, keeping her voice low. “If you wanted to keep Egg for yourself, I’m sure Father would call off the wedding.”

Her sister shoved her arm playfully.

“Oh please,” she groaned. “You and I both know he would rather marry you than me.”

“Gross,” Lyarra said, the food in her mouth turned to ask at her sister’s words.

“But I am jealous,” Rhaenys said.

She said it so simply, so quietly, that for a moment Lyarra didn’t know how to respond. Her sister had always seemed so unbreakable to her, but now there was a vulnerability to her now that Lyarra had never seen before, a sadness that seemed to bleed in from the edges of her smile.

“Sounds like you do want to marry him,” Lyarra teased instead, unsettled by her sister’s melancholy.

Rhaenys laughed, but the sound was hollow.

“I do not want to marry our brother,” Rhaenys said. “It’s just… Aegon was ours first—yours and mine—but in a fortnight he’ll belong to her, and then he’ll belong to the children she’ll bear him, and one day, the whole realm will want to carve a piece of him for themselves. And that won’t exactly leave a whole lot of room for you and me.”

Lyarra wanted to argue, to say that Aegon would never just abandon them, but instead, she changed the subject.

“How was Sunspear?”

“Hot. Dry. Full of men who aren’t half as clever as they think they are,” Rhaenys replied, swirling the wine in her cup, her eyes flicking to Margaery and back. “Have you ever wondered why our ancestors always married brother to sister?”

“It was to keep our bloodline pure,” Lyarra said, reciting the old, overly used answer.

“I used to think that too, but now I think it was much simpler than that. Blood looks after blood. The first Aegon didn’t marry Rhaenys because he was worried about keeping the blood pure—he married her because he loved her. The gods tell us to love our siblings, but what is a sister, compared to a wife?”

Lyarra snorted. “If this is your way of asking me to marry you, I’ll have to decline.”

Rhaenys grinned. “You know, the Doctrine of Exceptionalism doesn’t explicitly forbid a marriage between two Targaryen sisters.”

The two of them laughed, the awkward tension finally broken.

They sat in silence for a time, watching Aegon flirt with Margaery, whose hand lingered for just a moment too long on his sleeve when she laughed.

“I’m glad he’s happy,” Rhaenys said. “I just wish my own marriage could be so happy.”

“There’s still time,” Lyarra said. “Father hasn’t decided yet—you could still find someone.”

Rhaenys sighed. “That is not how the world works, little sister. Aegon will have his queen and his perfect little heirs, and you and I will marry men who will never love us as deeply as they should.”

Lyarra did not like that. She didn’t like that at all.

⋆˙⟡ (12/12) chapter previews for my long fic, "of wolves and dragons." ⋆˚࿔

⟢ CHAPTER SUMMARY lyarra and company arrive at highgarden and meet the tyrells, renly and loras (do not) hit it off, sansa falls in love with the south, margaery and willas scheme, and lyarra and stannis play a game of cyvasse.

“Good morrow, Princess,” Willas greeted, his head dropping into a polite bow. “I trust you found rest after your travels.” 

Lyarra paused her conversation with Renly to reply: “Good morrow to you as well, my lord. I rested fine, thank you.”

Willas smiled, the very essence of gallantry and charm.

“I am glad. I see you have found the dresses my sister left for you.”

“We’ve had such wonderful weather here in the Reach, and I wasn’t sure if any of your current attire would have been suitable after living in the North for so long,” Margaery said by way of explanation. “I’m so glad you find them to your taste, Sister.”

“Yes, the style of the Reach suits you well, Princess,” Willas added.

They were right, of course.

Lyarra was beautiful, but Sansa always thought her cousin was beautiful.

Still, both Margaery and Willas made a fair point.

Lyarra wore a green sleeveless gown made of the lightest of silks. The skirt, which was embroidered with tiny golden roses and thorns, flowed around her in waves and caressed her form like clouds against the mountain tops. The waist of the dress was cinched tight, but the bodice was left open, accentuating the tops of her breasts, and the sleeves dropped over her shoulders slightly, exposing her neck and collarbones.

She looked every part the princess except for the leather belt and scabbard strapped to her waist, which held the dagger Lyarra had won from Lord Stannis many moons ago.

Lady Margaery also gifted Sansa such finery, but Sansa had never worn something so revealing. Lacking her cousin’s boldness, she opted for one of her own dresses, which she had made from the fabrics Lyarra gifted her upon her arrival at Winterfell.

“It is I who should thank Margaery for her generosity,” Lyarra said. “What are your plans for the day, my lord?”

Willas grinned, his gleeful eyes darting towards the other end of the table where Prince Viserys ate with Lord Stannis and some of the other heirs.

“Well, it is such a lovely day for hawking, but I think I would like to take a walk through the gardens first—we are quite famous for them, after all. I was wondering—”

“Princess,” Stannis interrupted, standing to his feet, causing the silverware and plates to clank against the table. “Would you join me for a walk through the gardens?”

Lyarra did not reply, opting instead to look between both Lord Stannis and Lord Willas, suspicion in her eyes.

Her cousin seemed just as surprised as Sansa felt—she never took Lord Stannis for a man who enjoyed long walks with a lady.

“Very well, my lord,” Lyarra finally replied, rising from her chair.

⋆˙⟡ (11/12) chapter previews for my long fic, "of wolves and dragons." ⋆˚࿔

⟢ CHAPTER SUMMARY ned says goodbye to lyarra, the starks travel south to riverrun, and joffrey (who is a tully now, but still a jerk) gets put in his place

 “Stupid mutt,” someone sneered. “You said the training yard would be empty at this hour.”

 All eyes turned towards the new arrivals—Joffrey Tully and his guard, Sandor Clegane.

“My apologies, milord,” Clegane grumbled, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

Joffrey scoffed and then turned to glare at his brother, who flinched under Joffrey’s stare.

“Stop crying, you sniveling baby. You could have beaten him if you weren’t so afraid of landing a hit.”

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Tommen sniffled.

Joffrey curled his lip, his expression not at all unlike an angry prune.

“You’ve always been weak. You spineless fuck—”

“Tommen did just fine,” Lyarra interjected, placing her hands comfortingly on Tommen’s shoulders.

Then, as quickly as his sneer began, Joffrey’s face twisted into a charming smile.

“Princess,” he greets cordially.

He takes hold of Lyarra’s hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss that lasted far too long to be considered proper. Lyarra looked at him as if he were a particularly slimy slug beneath her feet.

 “I apologize, my dear, I did not realize you were here.”

 Joffrey eyed the short sword strapped to Lyarra’s hip and his green eyes flashed with distaste.

“So, the rumors are true then. You really do carry a sword like a man.”

“And I can wield it too, as your uncle can attest. My ancestor, Queen Visenya, once wielded the famed Dark Sister. Is it really so surprising that I may wish to do the same?”

“It hardly matters to me what your reasons are,” Joffrey said dismissively. “Once we are betrothed, you will not need to carry a sword.”

A heavy silence fell across the training yard.

There had been rumors circulating ever since Rhaegar had arranged the marriage between Prince Aegon and Margaery Tyrell that he was looking into matches for his two daughters as well. As the future heir to the Riverlands, Joffrey was among the leading contenders for Lyarra’s hand.

⋆˙⟡ (10/12) chapter previews for my long fic, "of wolves and dragons." ⋆˚࿔

⟢ CHAPTER SUMMARY lyarra and stannis duel in the training yard, they (finally) have a much needed conversation, lyarra and viserys visit the wall to visit their great-uncle aemon, and stannis is having trouble (as always) coming to terms with his feelings.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t hold back, Lord Stannis?” She asked. 

“Of course I would,” Stannis said without a single moment of hesitation. “I would hardly need my full strength to defeat a little girl pretending to be a knight.” 

“Prove it,” she said, pointing her blade at him in challenge. 

“Lyarra, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Robb said. 

“Your cousin is right. I am twice your size and far more experienced. Whatever delusion you have about defeating me will be short-lived. But if you are so desperate to be proven wrong, I’m happy to oblige.” 

Stannis shrugged off his cloak and passed it off to Renly. He grabbed a wooden training sword and took his stance, his long sword still strapped and sheathed at his side. 

“Aren’t you going to draw your sword?” Lyarra asked. 

“That would be like using wildfire to light a candle.” 

Lyarra had never despised him more than in that moment. 

She charged at him with a very real sword in her hand. Stannis blocked the blow with practiced ease. Lyarra had expected as much, but what she did not expect was the force behind his parry knocking her flat on her ass. 

The men in the crowd laughed, Theon Greyjoy being among the loudest. 

Lyarra sat on the ground in shock. Before she could recover, Stannis held the point of his weapon to her chest.

“Dead. Your stance is weak,” Stannis said. “Your feet are too close together when you strike; one hard blow from your opponent will knock you off balance. Get up and try again.” 

She knocked his sword aside with her hand and rose to her feet. Lyarra charged him again.

They exchanged blows. 

Once. 

Twice. 

But on the third, he forced her blade aside and jabbed her in the gut. 

Lyarra grunted from the impact, dropping to her knees. Jamie made a move to interfere, his hand on his own blade, but she held up her hand, calling him off. 

“Dead,” Stannis said again. “It doesn’t matter how many times you charge at me, princess. The result will be the same.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

She didn’t charge him this time; she waited for him to make the first move. When he lunged, she dodged. While he was exposed, Lyarra raised her sword to strike, but before she could, Stannis yanked her by the hair, making her yelp, and pulled her back until her throat was exposed. He mockingly swiped the sword across her neck before her pushed her away from him. 

“Dead.” 

This was seriously getting old. 

“You’re not fighting fair,” she accused. 

“A fight for your life is never fair.” 

“Then what would you have me do?” 

“Survive.” 

⋆˙⟡ (9/12) chapter previews for my long fic, "of wolves and dragons." ⋆˚࿔

⟢ CHAPTER SUMMARY lyarra celebrates her name day, ned finally reunites with her niece, lyarra meets her cousins for the first time, direwolves are found, and lyarra visits her mother's grave.

Lyarra took in the yard. 

Her first thought was that it was very… grey. 

The dark stone walls were unlike anything she’d seen back home, and Lyarra couldn’t help but look around in awe. 

She wondered how many times her mother had passed through those gates, walked through this courtyard, or wandered through these stone halls. 

A small procession awaited her in the courtyard. 

At the head of the procession stood a man with a large fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He had long brown hair, and a short trimmed beard speckled with strands of grey, making him look both older and more distinguished. He had a solemn face and dark grey eyes the color of fog on a rainy day. 

Lyarra approached him tentatively at first. This man was both familiar to her and a stranger all at once. She didn’t know his face, but she knew his eyes because they were the same eyes she saw everyday looking in the mirror. She didn’t know his voice, but she knew his words written in a neat hand recounting stories about her mother. She knew him, like how a wolf instinctively knew how to hunt, but still, she needed to be sure. 

“Uncle Ned?” 

He smiled, and a single tear fell down his cheek, and Lyarra knew she was right—this man was her uncle. Lyarra ran into his arms, and it felt like coming home. 

Her uncle smelled of pine and fur and snow. He felt warm despite the chill in the air, like the hot springs Robb told her lay beneath the castle; and his arms wrapped protectively around her frame were strong, and Lyarra thought she could spend the rest of her life feeling safe in his embrace. 

“Lyarra.” Ned whispered her name like a prayer.

He released her from his embrace, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He cradled her face between his large hands, and his gaze was so soft that Lyarra started crying as well.