siravalondulac

[siravalondulac]

004. ellaria i

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: braids, veils, and careful encouragement word count: 826 warnings: none author's note: sorry for the short chaper, exam week's coming up and i literally don't have time for anything

masterlist

previous | next

A knock sounded on her door.

“Come in!”

Sunlight spilled past Elle as she entered the chamber. She was clad in one of the dresses Elia never wore, the dark yellow embroidery fitting quite well with her hair.

“Do you have a veil I could borrow?” she asked gently. “Elia and I would like to explore the city, and I don't… I don't want to be recognised.”

Ellaria smiled at her nervous finger tapping. “Of course. Let me braid your hair as well, so that you can hide it better.”

She pulled out the stool so Elle could sit down in front of the vanity. Her back was straight, her shoulders pulled back, and her hands folded perfectly in her lap, but Ellaria couldn't help but notice how she refused to look at the mirror. Perhaps it was the three scars of unknown origin marring her face, perhaps something… darker.

“How are you doing?” she asked as she took some still damp strands in hand and started braiding. Carefully, of course. She knew how sensitive Elle was to touch.

“Fine, I think.” Her fingers tapped against each other. “Being back here is… merely a lot to take in.”

“I can imagine that.”

She picked up a hair brush to detangle some hair, before continuing her work.

“I know the truth. All of it.”

Elle tensed beneath her.

“I don't wish to admonish, just tell you that you need not have secrets with me. We were all distraught when you disappeared, Elia most of all. And Oberyn as well. I believe him when he says he regrets involving you in his plans.”

“Regret does not diminish years of lies.”

Elle had always been a peculiar girl, ever since they had first met in the snows of Braavos. She had tried to be nice to her - as she had with all of her paramour’s daughters - yet a distance had remained between them. A distance only Oberyn and Elia had been able to bridge.

“Perhaps not. But carrying such bitterness for the rest of your life will not bide well for you either.”

Elle did not respond, so she decided to change topics. To something a tad easier.

“If I remember correctly, your hair was once longer.”

“I cut and dyed it after I had left.” She moved her head, but Ellaria’s fingers gently forced it into position once more. “I wish I had kept it brown. Would have spared me a lot of grief.”

“How so?”

She laughed. “Just look at me. I am a Lannister, through and through.”

Ellaria had heard of the claims by Stannis Baratheon, of the accusations that had cost Eddard Stark his head - that Queen Cersei's children were bastards, fathered by her twin brother. An affront to the gods, sure to curse her House for generations to come.

She spared a glance at Elle's face in the mirror. Looking past the three scars, she could not imagine her having even a drop of Baratheon blood in her. Sure, Ellaria had never met one of them, but she knew enough from Oberyn’s tales.

Perhaps… Perhaps this eternal sadness in Elle's eyes was because she knew the truth. Something like this could not be easy to swallow, even for someone raised the way she had been. To have one’s entire life revolve around being a princess, in line to the throne, and then have it ripped away in a moment's notice.

“Where did you stay these past few years?” she asked to banish those thoughts from her mind.

“Nowhere and everywhere. I travelled from the Lands of Always Winter to Castle Black and further to the Riverlands. I have seen castles and magic and things others could only ever dream of.” A spark had entered her eyes. “I have met so many different people of so many different flocks of life, ones I would have never encountered had I stayed locked in a castle for my entire life. And there was one…”

Ellaria recognised the smile forming on Elle’s face, as well as the slight blush on her cheeks.

“What did you like best?”

“It all carries good and bad. Some things... some people poisoned my enjoyment of certain happenings after they had already occurred. It is difficult to look back on anything with an open heart.”

She wondered if there was a full moon approaching. Elle always acted rather strangely around that time.

Before she could properly prepare, pins fixed some loose strands in place and the braid was finished. Ellaria wished she would have taken her time, to spend more time with Elle and inquire about her previous whereabouts, but she had to find another opportunity.

Picking out a green veil she barely wore, she quickly fixed it to the golden hair, hiding more of it than would have been usual.

“Thank you, Ellaria. I swear I will return it by tonight.”

“Take your time,” she said with a smile. “Enjoy the day.”

previous | next

[siravalondulac]

although im so happy the ceasefire is finally happening, it isn't enough. israeli government and it's solders need to be held accountable, they need to pay for their crimes and we all, as a society, cannot let this ever happen again. so many lives were lost so many children are still suffering, and the ceasefire fire isn't enough. give their land back, give them peace, the right to live freely and without fear, the money to reconstruct their homes, their schools, hospitals and churches. just stop killing them isn't enough

[siravalondulac]

Celebrate the ceasefire, but please ..

Don't unlearn all that you now know about the crimes of Israel

Don't forget about the stolen land of Palestine

Don't stop your financial aids and contributions in sharing links and stories! They will all the help they can get! Thousands have no homes now. Thousands still need medical attention.

Don't stop pressuring your country to stop funding Israel

Don't stop boycotting those who support Israel

This is still an occupation. There's freedom to fight for

[siravalondulac]

i've been asked when i'll update sapphire steel again and while i cannot give you an answer to that just yet, trust i have not forgotten about it!

look, i've even made a playlist!

[siravalondulac]

003. oberyn i

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: a father reflects on the past word count: 984 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

His daughters had been running about the manse for some time now, laughing and talking as if they had never been parted. He wanted to speak to Elle himself, inquire about what had happened to her, what had changed her this much. But he let them have their time. Gods knew it might be short.

He had been unprepared for the letter's arrival, yet had never doubted it. Still, to read Elle's words was one thing, to see her standing in the flesh before him had knocked the breath out of him in a far different way. Especially to see her so… destroyed.

Ellaria sat down in the chair beside him, poured herself a cup of tea, and simply watched the girls in quiet.

“They look happy.”

Oberyn nodded slowly. “Elle told her the truth.”

His paramour cocked her head, her curly hair catching onto the intricate embroidery on her dark red dress.

He had told her who Elle truly was after she had disappeared, having broken down one evening and confessed everything to her. Upon which she had told him she had expected something of the like. She, after all, had been with him in Braavos when he had found Elle, and had thought it strange he had found a supposed daughter of his this quickly, yet had not questioned him, too big was her trust in him.

“They've always been close. It was to be expected that not even this could separate them.”

He could do little but agree. “Even had we not introduced them, they would have found each other.”

Even if Elle had grown up in King's Landing. Some things were destined to happen.

He wondered if her growing up with him was one of those things. Looking back at their first meeting, he wondered how he had found her at all on some days. That she would steal from him of all people in the crowd, that he would manage to follow her in the depths of winter to that abandoned building, that he would be able to convince her to come with him. Finding out who she was had not been difficult. A Westerosi girl with light blonde hair and striking blue eyes would have roused suspicions either way, but then she had simply said her name outright when he had asked, the urge to lie in such a situation apparently not born to her.

“Where do we go from here?”

He knew what Ellaria was referring to - the missing princess was back in her city, hiding with a family despised by its rulers, and it was only a matter of time until someone recognised her. Alienating Elle once more was not a risk he was willing to take, so they needed to ask her what she wanted to do. It was time she used the skills he had taught her.

“I will have my justice.”

That he had started caring for the granddaughter of the man he despised most of all had not been part of his plan, and he sometimes wished he had never gone to Braavos with Ellaria. But then he would have never met his little sunshine, and she might have frozen in the icy wastes. She would understand, he knew. He had raised her to be kind, think of others, fight against injustice, and be wary of the effects the game of thrones had on the less fortunate. Elle above all else would understand the need to kill Tywin Lannister.

“You cannot change the past, Oberyn. At some point you have to ask yourself if it is still worth it. And if you are willing to sacrifice that which you hold most dear.”

A loud splash, followed by Elia shouting obscenities across the courtyard.

“Mind your tongue!” Ellaria commanded as their daughter rose from the fountain.

Elle laughed, and then screamed when Elia started hunting her up the balcony.

It was a game between the two girls, one they had been playing since the very beginnings of their friendship - who could manage to throw the other into the water the most often. They had long lost count over who was leading.

His other daughters had gotten into the crossfire of their war on some occasions, as had his niece and nephews, visiting nobles, and of course he himself. Doran had tried stopping them - this water game and many other terrorisations of their palaces - yet it had had no use. Nothing and no one could stop the combined force of Elia and Elle.

The latter currently climbed one of the trees growing in the courtyard, swinging from branch to branch as if she were a monkey.

It had been a challenge trying to teach her anything remotely connected to politics or courtly life. This - climbing, swimming, even fighting sometimes - had been easy, but proper eticette? Taxes and laws? Relations between the great houses and the intricacies of war? Forget about it.

But he had held on, and eventually managed to trick her into attending her lessons. Mainly by disguising it as something else, sending ladies her gaze had rested on a moment too long with her, or promising certain things to her. Mainly adventures, yet sometimes even things as simple as a new painting.

Elle lounged in the tree, seemingly quite content with Elia not being able to reach her.

As he watched her sit there, hands gripping her thighs tighter than normal, he could not help feeling sad. Gone was the carefree little girl he had raised. In her place, the gods had returned to him a woman grown, who had experienced all the horrors and delights their world had to offer. No amount of smiles and laughter could hide the fear in her eyes.

What could have possibly damaged his resilient little sunshine so thoroughly?

“Elle needs new clothes,” he told his paramour as he gently traced her knuckles. “And a bath.”

previous | next

[siravalondulac]

thing that kids say sometimes when they don't like you

[siravalondulac]

@ that anon that requested the jon snow fic a few days ago: i have not forgotten about you! i am currently in the midst of writing it, but have a lot going on and want it to be perfect. i promise it will be out by the end of the month at the latest!

[siravalondulac]

the family

[siravalondulac]

002. elia i

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: finding out the truth about your sister can hurt, but it doesn't have to word count: 736 warnings: none author's note: double chapter premiere! hope you appreciate it :3

masterlist

previous | next

Watching the fountain in the middle of the courtyard grew boring far too quickly. Yet whenever she tried to calm her hands by picking at the plants, her mother pulled them away.

But she couldn't leave either. Not when her sister was right behind this bloody red door.

Perhaps that was why their father had finally allowed her to accompany him after trying to deny her for so long. Something about his agitated nature ever since they had left Sunspear told her he knew Elle would meet them here. And she would never forgive him if he did without telling her!

If whatever happened inside took any longer, she might leave anyways, and find something to bridge the time. She had not sparred in a few hours, and her tilting still needed training. Her mother could wait here, and tell Elle where to find her.

Or she could finally learn to be patient.

Eventually, the door opened, and Elle stepped out. For once in her life, she looked worse than her; tired, dirty, with torn clothing, and three scars across her face, and Elia could not help the small ounce of satisfaction.

“Everything alright?”

“Aye,” Elle answered. “Could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

The seriousness in her sister's voice unsettled her, so all the answer she gave was a single nod.

Her own rooms were big, yes, but she found it a waste. She rarely spent time in them anyway, King's Landing far too exciting not to explore whenever she could. Unpacking her things from the chest had, because of this, also not happened yet.

“What do you want to talk to me about?” She picked up a bundle of clothing from a chair and unceremoniously dumped it on the floor to give her sister a place to sit. Afterwards she let herself fall onto her bed.

“I-” Elle gently sat down on the wooden chair, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “This might become a bit complicated.”

“No phenomenon is too complicated for the curious mind to understand,” she recited their uncle's words.

Elle's smile was small, but still there. “I shall… start at the beginning.” She then took a breath, and said, “Oberyn isn’t my father.”

Elia blinked. “What?”

“My true name isn't Elle, either. It's Cerelle.”

She furrowed her brows, trying to remember where she had heard that name before.

“And I wasn't born in Braavos, but here, in King's Landing, as the first-born child of Queen Cersei and King Robert.”

It took a few moments for her to fully work through what had been said.

Elle… wasn't her sister.

No, worse than that. Elle was a princess, born to the family she ought to despise more than anything else.

“Does father know?” Elia asked.

The girl that had pretended to be her sister nodded. “I ran away from home, upon which Oberyn found me and promised to take care of me. Back then I hadn't yet been a very good liar, so he figured out who I was fairly quickly.”

They sat in silence for a while, then.

“Is that-” Elia started hesitantly- “why you left?”

“In part. But it wasn't because I had grown tired of you or - gods forbid - wanted to return here. Someone had been close to figuring out who I was, so I ran to protect you. Had anyone at court known I was hiding with House Martell-” Her voice faltered. “I don't even want to imagine what they would have done to you.”

“Why didn't you tell me? We could have figured out a way to keep you safe.”

“I know, I know-” She buried her face in her hands, took in a breath, and then met her gaze again. “I am not very good at confrontations. Even now, even this is difficult for me. I am afraid of the people I love hating me.”

And upon this, Elia knew how to proceed. Perhaps Elle wasn't her father's daughter, perhaps she was a princess, and perhaps they now were surrounded by people wishing to tear them apart, but she wouldn't let them. She was not willing to throw away their lives and relationship over such a small hiccup.

She stood up, walked over to Elle, and hugged her. The angle was awkward, but she didn't care.

Pulling away, she smiled. “No matter who our parents are, we will always remain sisters.”

“Sisters,” Elle agreed.

previous | next

[siravalondulac]

001. cerelle i

house of lies, city of blood

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: the wayward princess finds her way home word count: 1989 warnings: none author's note: welcome back to book three of 'stars above, songs below'. i know i have left you waiting for quite a while, so i hope you enjoy this chapter :3

masterlist

previous | next

She did not know what she had expected, returning home near eleven years later. Relief, perhaps? Joy and hope, now that she was back. Or something in the complete opposite direction. Fear. Pain about having left at all.

Yet the only thing on her mind as she looked down on King's Landing and its red castle rising high above the city, was uncertainty. What if... What if her mother did not want her back? What if Oberyn didn't? What if she had changed so much no one recognised nor believed her? She had burnt so many bridges with so many people in her life, if that happened she might just throw herself into the sea and stay there. Perhaps the merfolk would be kinder.

Her mother's necklace chafed around her neck, the added weight of Benjiamin Vypren's ring doing her few favours.

(The scroll he had received from Tywin, foretelling the events at the Twins and confirming her grandfather’s involvement, was hidden safely in her pocket. The words had faded due to her escape through the river, yet were still legible. Just in case.)

She wondered what Jon would say if he saw her now. Running away from her problems once again, abandoning his siblings, turning her back on the people who truly needed her. Sure, she had saved his brother, but at what cost? Would he be more disgusted about her cowardice or the blood on her hands? Or would he simply not care?

Such a thought terrified her.

Starlight grew restless beneath her, stomping with her hooves, trying to move forward. She patted her horse's neck, speaking calming words to her as much as to herself.

How her mare had, once again, managed to find her way back to her unsettled her. After the attack by the Stark soldiers, the thing at the Twins, and then her escape from Riverrun, she had thought her horse lost forever to her. But here Starlight was, white hide as glowing as ever.

Cerelle took a deep breath.

Standing on a hill until the sun set and rose again would bring her no closer to alleviating her fears. So she finally urged Starlight on, and set off for her city.

As she neared the gate, two things started increasing: the amount of travellers around her, and the terrible smell. Neither of which she particularly liked, but supposed she had to endure.

The city walls seemed smaller than in her memory, the cobblestone pavement less secure under Starlight's hooves, the streets populated with far, far more goldcloaks than possible. And then... There were Lannister soldiers walking along the houses and huts, never alone, always in groups of four or more, hands on their swords, faces obscured, and if any of them found out she was the Golden Paladin-

No. They would not. She was the Paladin no more, therefore no one would hunt her for it. Never again.

Her fingers traced her dagger's outline underneath her thin shirt. She would not draw it, would not draw blood with it, but just in case she needed it.

As she rode along the shops on Cobbler's Square and further on the Gods' Way, she turned Oberyn's words in his letter around in her head.

Look out for seven suns on the King's Way.

A direction, most likely, on where to meet with him. Only that she had no clue what these "seven suns" were meant to symbolise - paintings, statues, people even?

The King's Way led directly towards the Red Keep, and it took everything in her not to gallop through the gates and fall into her mother's arms. Yet she needed to meet Oberyn beforehand, to mend their bond before the court might rip them apart once more.

One after the other.

Manses lined the cobbled pathway, each rising higher and higher, reaching out towards the castle, yet not one able to replicate its glory. They were painted in all the colours of nature, with numerous decorations on its veneers, roses and animals and suns and mosaics-

She stopped Starlight abruptly.

One of the manses had seven golden suns painted above its wooden gate, almost indistinguishable against its yellow backdrop. But they were there. And in the front, equipped with a spear and a shield each, stood two guards of House Martell.

Where she had assumed her family would reside previously, she had not considered. The Red Keep had been out of the question due to the bad blood with its inhabitants, but outside of this… Of course Oberyn - or Doran - held property in King’s Landing. Just in case, they might say if asked.

She dismounted and carefully walked towards the gate with Starlight’s reigns in hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, louder and louder, rushing the blood through her body, clouding her thoughts.

“Pardon me,” she said quietly to one of the guards. “I desire to speak with Prince Oberyn.”

The man mustered her, his black beard hiding the lower half of his face and his head-scarf the upper half. “And who is it that demands such?”

She was about to answer, when the second guard suddenly called out, “Elle?” Turning to him, a smile had spread on his face. He looked almost the exact same as the man beside him, leading her to believe they might be brothers. “What happened to you?”

Two things could be meant by his question: the more obvious, of her having been missing for near three years, or the one at hand, of her current looks. The dirty and tattered shirt and pants coupled with her unruly hair and the three scars worked miracles of hiding who she truly was.

“That is a long story,” she answered. “One I would like to discuss with my father first.”

“Of course. Please, follow me.”

The gate opened to reveal a moderate courtyard, yet filled with plants of all colours and sizes, encircling a happily-pattering fountain embedded into the ground. Stairs led up to a balcony stretching along the entire wall.

Starlight was taken from her by a dark-skinned stablegirl, who was close to having to wrench the reigns from Cerelle's hands. Yet eventually, she was pulled away by the guard and led up the stairs and through a simple red door.

She felt for her dagger. Just in case.

“My prince.” The man had stepped between two panels and bowed deeply. “There is someone here for you.”

He then gave way for her. She took a breath, and stepped forward.

Oberyn sat beside Ellaria and Elia, the round table between them filled with food. They all stared at her in disbelief, none of them moving as they had to take in who stood before them.

What if they did not recognise her? Worse, what if they did but threw her out again? If they had found out that - and why - she had run away, and now thought less of her? If they-

Faster than she could react, Elia had slammed into her. Her breath was knocked out of her, and in the grip around her body she had trouble regaining it, but she did not care. Her sister embraced her, despite everything, and so she could do little but hug her back, if awkwardly.

Elia pulled back, breaking their contact, yet her face remained full of glee. “I’m sorry, I know you don't like that, I just-” She broke off and threw herself around her neck again, moving the bandages underneath her shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Cerelle whispered to her sister. “So terribly.”

Oberyn and Ellaria had stood up as well, yet had not moved further.

“What happened to you?” Elia asked once they had separated completely. “One day you were just gone and no one knew anything.”

“That is a bit complicated.” Her gaze shifted to Oberyn for a moment, then back to her sister. “Could you leave me alone with our father? Just for a moment. Then I promise I will explain everything to you.”

Elia looked to her parents, glee and happiness deluded by confusion. And worry. Ellaria walked forward and took her daughter's hand.

“Let us wait outside.”

The door fell close, and they were alone.

She studied the man that had taken her in all those years ago, the man that had been more of a father to her than her true ones had ever been, who had raised her in the knowledge he had to eventually betray her. His appearance had not changed in the slightest.

“You've grown.”

“I heard you talk to Doran.” Better get right to it. “You have been planning to marry me to Quentyn and seat me on the throne ever since you found me in Braavos.”

The few steps he had taken towards her - either to view her better or hug her as well - seemed forgotten. “Elle-”

“You lied to me. I thought I was safe with you, that I could trust you!”

“Elle, please-”

“You knew why I ran away! And yet you were planning to do the exact same thing to me!” For the first time, she did not care she was losing control of her voice. “For seven years I blindly followed every word you said, went to every lesson you sent me to, did not question why a bastard received a king’s education-”

“It was for your best.”

“For my best?! I do not want to be queen! I just wanted a family.”

He looked at her. Only that, nothing more. Why would he not be angry at her, scream at her like she did to him, throw her out to punish her for her misdeeds? How could he be so calm when she was… When she had lost control far too easily.

“If I betrayed you so,” Oberyn finally asked after a long silence, “why have you returned?”

Leave it to him to alway trump her, to be the only one she never won against. To be the only one to know her, inside and out.

“I… realised-” Her voice wavered. “How quickly light could be snuffed out, how easily one could go from having many regrets to none of them mattering. I realised I had to see you again one more time and ask you why? Why me?”

Why did you involve a little girl in your revenge schemes? Why did you treat the child of your enemy with such kindness? Why did you take me in at all?

He stepped closer, slowly, carefully, as if he were approaching a frightened animal.

She was taller than him, she realised with frightening clarity.

“It is true,” he said quietly. “I took you in because I wanted to take revenge on House Lannister. Doran and I had plans to seat you on the throne and use you to punish those who had wronged us. But-” he quickly added. “Over the years I have grown to love you like you were my own. Back when you disappeared, I had already grown hesitant about our plans.”

She wanted to scream at him, wanted to call him a liar and traitor, wanted to justify the many years they had missed because of her. But…

The conversation she had overheard had been as he had described. Oberyn had seemed cautious about using her and marrying her to his nephew. Had she truly destroyed their lives over this?

No. He had needed to learn a lesson. A hesitant reconsidering would not have undone seven years of lies.

“I will tell Elia.” Not want, or should, or might. “She deserves to know the truth about me.”

He gave a single nod. “What reason will you give for your disappearance?”

Oh, she wanted to scare him. Make him suffer the way she had that day, and tell him what he expected. Yet that was not her.

“That someone found out the truth, and I ran to protect you all.”

And with that, she left the room.

previous | next

author's note: new chapter will release every sunday 6pm cet, so see you next week :3

[siravalondulac]

- house of lies, city of blood

"no amount of smiles and laughter could hide the fear in her eyes"

fem!oc centric

summary: ten years after her mysterious disappearance, princess cerelle baratheon finally returns to king's landing - just in time for her brother joffrey's wedding. but the scars she carries run deep and the demons she gathered in the riverlands threaten to consume her. mayhaps her families can help heal her, but first she would need to mend their shattered bonds. all while trying to keep her past from catching up with her...

also read on: ao3 | wattpad | fanfiction.net | fanfiktion.de

series masterlist | additional works masterlist

pinterest board | spotify playlist

chapters:

001. cerelle i

002. elia i

003. oberyn i

004. ellaria i

005. ...

[siravalondulac]

elle sand wip

[siravalondulac]

xxvi. riverrun

a heart so golden, a sun so bright

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: riverrun word count: 1178 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

There was nothing left inside her. She had betrayed the most fundamental thing she stood for, had broken the one rule she had sworn herself never to break. And the worst thing was that she had enjoyed it. Had enjoyed finally letting loose. Tasting the blood and the fear.

So what now?

Robb Stark had turned Riverrun into a bloodbath upon their return. The heads of House Spicer and their retinue decorated the castle walls, the king’s good mother having been the first to meet her end after her attempt on his life. Merely Queen Jeyne had survived his wrath.

No one in the castle knew where to go from here. Not the king who still walked around with blood on his clothes, not the queen who had locked herself in her chambers, not the men and women who had lost kin at the massacre, and not her who had been forbidden from leaving.

She had not minded, in the beginning. Back when she had still tried to come to terms with what she had done at the Twins, and then what she had seen at Riverrun. Pain and grief and fear had followed her wherever she went, so having a room to herself where she could hide had been a relief.

On one of those days Robb found her, huddled up against the window, staring out into the pouring rain.

“A letter has arrived for you.”

She jumped up without a moment’s hesitation, dropping her blanket as she ran to him, ripping the piece of parchment out of his hands. The sigil had already been broken, yet the sun and spear of House Martell were still clearly visible.

My dearest Elle,

it fills me with joy and relief to know you are alive. I thought I had lost you, and I want to see you just as desperately. I will be travelling to King’s Landing for His Grace’s wedding in just a few short days. Considering its proximity to Riverrun, it seems like a more apt meeting place. Look out for seven suns on the King's Way.

I shall be awaiting you.

Your father, Oberyn

If it had not been for Robb Stark holding her back, she might have taken off to King’s Landing the moment she had finished the letter.

“Please, I just want to see my family again,” she begged.

“You’re not going anywhere. Least of all the capital.”

He had her pressed against the wall beside the door, the letter crumpled in her hands.

“Why?” she sobbed. “What good am I to you now?”

“You are the most valuable person in this castle.” He played with a lock of her hair, curling it around his finger. The hunger and desperation in his eyes promised disaster. “I could trade you for whatever I want. Or marry you, and lay claim to the Seven Kingdoms.”

No. Not again. Locked in a castle, used for a claim she had no interest in- He couldn’t- She had to find a way-

“I already saved you. How much more proof do you need of my loyalty?”

“This is not about loyalty, princess, but about protecting what is left of my people.”

“I have people as well.” Tears ran down her cheek. “Please, let me see them again, I beg you. It’s been so long.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re mine now. I’m not letting you go.”

“You- You already have a wife.”

“A traitor’s daughter, who has not given me any sons yet. I could have her executed, and we could finally fulfil our fathers’ wishes.”

He knew of the betrothal.

“I never wanted that,” she breathed out.

“Too bad.”

He departed not soon after, locking the door behind him, leaving her standing trembling against the wall.

She had sworn herself she would never again end up in such a situation. Had begged the gods over and over not to let it happen again.

But here she was. With blood on her hands and a chain around her neck. Abandoned and alone.

Her entire time in the Riverlands had revolved around trying to do the right thing, trying to be good, trying to adhere to what she had been taught and what was expected of her - as a woman, as a knight, and as a princess.

She had spent weeks rebuilding homes, doing farmwork, taking care of children. She had fought against evil, had saved innocent lives, had taken up arms if needed. She had braved her own family’s soldiers, mediated in conflicts, had been the guiding light everyone needed her to be. And what had it gotten her?

The darkness had won. Good did not triumph above all, no matter how much the singers tried to convince the people otherwise. She had dared too much, had flown too high, had been stupid enough to think she could be more than that evil simmering deep inside her.

And the worst thing was - it likely did not even matter to the people of the Riverlands. The image of the Golden Paladin in their minds was so different to who she actually was, most of them would probably think she had killed long before the horrors at the Twins.

(She had heard the songs ascribing accomplishments to her name she would never dare in her wildest dreams.)

Perhaps it was a good thing Robb Stark kept her confined to this room. At least she could not hurt anyone else in here.

But how long would that last? A moon? A year? And what would he do to her then? If she averted a marriage somehow, the look in his eyes had told her he would keep her with him forever, never letting her near her family ever again.

She looked down to the parchment in her hand, and the neatly written words in black ink on it.

Your father, Oberyn.

If she wanted to see him again, to apologise for what she had done, she needed to run once more.

But she had sworn an oath. Multiple. Defend the innocent, avoid bloodshed, protect Robb Stark, guide the people, stay until everyone is safe. So many vows and promises, each more daunting than the last.

She took her oaths seriously. This could not change now. She had to… to… stay, stay in the Riverlands, to clean up behind her.

Her necklace hung heavy around her neck.

King's Landing. She could see her mother again.

The wind lashed into her face as soon as she had opened the window, her shirt drenched in the rainwater pouring down from the skies. Her plan of scaling the castle walls turned out to be folly, even for her, as the stones were too slippery to properly cling on to. The only way out was through the water beneath her.

Robb Stark would understand, someday. She would explain everything to him, and beg for his forgiveness. His and Arya’s.

She was good at running, and even better at running away.

Taking a deep breath, and clutching her mother’s necklace, she descended into the raging darkness.

previous | next

author's note: and so it ends. it's been such a ride posting this story on tumblr and definitely not something i'd recommend to anyone else. thank you for accompanying me on this journey. please leave a like/comment/reblog telling me if you liked it and what you's like to see in the future

but now that i got that out of my system, we can treat game of thrones seriously. book 3 starts releasing january 5th 2025 6pm cet as always xoxo

[siravalondulac]

xxv. what happens when all is lost

a heart so golden, a sun so bright

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: a young wolf grapples with what he has seen word count: 1746 warnings: one graphic description of a wound

masterlist

previous | next

Robb had not cried the entire night - not during the feast, not during the massacre, and not during their flight. Any anger had disappeared once they had left the Twins. Now, there was nothing inside him.

He had failed. He had been stupid, and weak, and it had killed his entire army. And now he was running away like a coward.

Arya was alive, but any kind of happiness or relief he had felt seeing her running towards him had disappeared already. How should he explain to her that their mother had died? And that he could not save her?

He looked over to the Paladin, slumped over in her saddle. She had kept him from saving his mother for some reason. She had also been at the wedding, for some reason. And she had saved him, for some reason.

The sun had started creeping over the horizon as they neared a village. He was reluctant to show himself to people, especially this close to the Twins, but the Paladin made no sign of stopping.

There were a few people out already, likely preparing themselves for a day of farming. They stared at them, in confusion, interest, and caution.

A woman came walking towards them, and her eyes widened.

“Elle?”

At that, the Paladin dropped to the ground.

He hastily jumped off his horse and ran to her. What he had hoped to be simple exhaustion quickly turned out to be something more sinister as the sun lit up her blood-soaked back. He didn’t even know where the wound was supposed to be, and where her skin ended and the flesh beneath started. It was a miracle she had made it this far.

“What happened?” the woman asked, kneeling beside the Paladin and inspecting the wound.

“A wedding.”

She looked at him strangely, before waving two men towards her, commanding them to bring her to someone named Thekla. He followed as if in a trance.

They carried her into a house and laid her onto a kitchen table, where a woman with grey streaks in her brown hair appeared next to the Paladin's unconscious body. She started making demands almost immediately - to bring warm water and bandages and threads and needles and milk of the poppy.

A hand closed around his as he stared at the hectic scene before him.

“Is that the Golden Paladin?” his sister asked. All he could do was nod.

The woman in question started thrashing and screaming out in pain as water was spilled over her wound.

“Hold her down.”

The water cleaned away the blood, and for the first time he saw what had actually happened to her.

Her back had been slashed open from her left hip all the way to her right shoulder, laying bare the red flesh beneath, and he could swear he even saw bone sticking out.

He grabbed his sister's hand tighter and pulled her outside.

They sat leaning onto each other against the house's wall, watching the sun rise above the treeline, the peace interrupted sporadically by the screams coming from inside. And for the first time, he fully allowed himself to grasp what it meant having his sister in his arms again.

Arya was alive. She was alive and healthy and had found him somehow. His fierce and valiant sister had escaped King’s Landing and had trekked the entire way through the Riverlands to get to him. One of his siblings was with him again.

“What have you been up to?” he asked quietly.

“I've been trying to find you. After I escaped King's Landing, all I wanted was to get back to Winterfell.”

“It's best you never got that far. Theon burned it down.”

She moved her head away from his shoulder to look into his eyes. “What? Why would he-”

“Because I was stupid enough to think that sending him to his father wouldn't end in him betraying me.” He had thought their relationship had meant something to Theon, that he had meant something to Theon. “He conquered Winterfell and burned it to the ground afterwards, killing-” His lip trembled. “Killing Bran and Rickon in the process.”

A myriad of emotions crossed her face, as if she couldn't decide what to feel, until she said full of conviction, “He will pay for what he did.”

“We'll make sure of it.”

“What about mother? Where is she?”

This was too much for him, having to relieve the image of Roose Bolton cutting open her throat-

“I'm sorry, I- I couldn't save her.”

And once more, they huddled up against each other, silently sobbing.

“We're all alone now,” she whispered.

“Sansa's still there,” he responded, face still buried in her hair, “even if she's married to a Lannister. And Jon as well.”

“I miss them. Even Sansa.”

“Me too.”

Slowly, the town began to wake. People started walking around, throwing them confused glances, yet leaving them alone. Until a man approached them.

“Sorry to bother you, but my wife said you came with the Paladin?”

Robb rose from the ground, straightening his back and wiping the tears from his eyes. “We did.”

“If you want to, you can stay at our house. We have enough space, and our daughter Maia will be glad for the company.”

He was hesitant to leave the Paladin. Even if she was a Lannister, even if she had been involved with Lord Vypren, he needed to thank her - in whatever way necessary. But he was tired and hungry, and he needed to take care of his sister as well.

“We would be most grateful for your help.”

The man introduced himself as Max, and over a meagre meal of eggs, cheese, and bread, he told them of when the Paladin had been in their town the last time. Of the arrival of an army and a man dressed in green and silver, who had kidnapped the Paladin after she had tried sacrificing herself for one of the women.

“We thought he had killed her,” Max said as he pushed an apple slice onto his daughter’s plate. “Seems like she’s as resilient as the songs say.”

Robb forced Arya to go to sleep after their meal, ignoring every word of protest. He had tried staying awake, had told the man he wanted to be informed immediately if he found out anything about the Paladin’s state, but even he nodded off eventually.

His dreams were far from pleasant. They were filled with the images of the night before, dead hands grabbing at his legs and arms and clothing, screeching at him, punishing him for what he did to them. And he let it happen. Especially when his mother’s corpse joined the pile.

The woman who had greeted them in the morning awoke him soon after - carefully, not wanting to disturb his sister sleeping soundly in the bed beside him. On their way out of the house, she introduced herself as Sandra, and asked for his name in return.

He wondered if he should give it to her. This was a small village, and the likelihood of them knowing his name was rather low. But they were not far from the Twins - when the Freys would come looking for him, he’d rather not expose himself needlessly. At least he had lost his crown at some point during the fighting.

“My name’s Ned.”

They entered the house the Paladin had been treated in. Sandra led him past the kitchen with the blood-soaked table and towards a small chamber at the end of a hallway.

She laid on a simple bed. Her torso was wrapped in bandages, her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving.

“Is she-”

“No.” Another woman stepped into the room. “But she is barely hanging on. It is a miracle she is still breathing.”

Two days they had to wait for news. Two long days filled with fear and uncertainty.

He had wanted to leave. Take the Paladin’s body and ride for Riverrun. Or leave her here. She was not the one the Frey traitors had tried to murder. She would be safe here, amongst the people who worshipped her. He was only waiting for his death in this place.

Arya had introduced him to Sandor Clegane, who had wanted to return her for a reward, which he would not be getting now. Not after he had lost his entire kingdom. The man had grumbled at that, but had stuck around in the town.

He had told Arya what had happened. Of the treachery, the deaths, his failure. She had sworn to help him bring down House Frey. The North remembered, she said, and anyone who had crossed them would be fed to their wolves.

Then, one afternoon, the healer Thekla came running up to him.

“She’s awake.”

They both followed her to the small chamber, where the Paladin was sitting upright in bed.

He would never forget the look in her eyes at the Twins. There had been no humanity in them, just blind rage. Their blue had been the colour of ice - deadly and unforgiving. But now, they were empty. He looked at them, and only felt grief.

Slowly, he sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling that if he went too fast she would run away. Arya stayed standing behind him.

Her gaze wandered towards him, flickering to his sister for a moment before she whispered, “Cerelle.”

“What?”

“You asked for my name. It’s Cerelle.”

“Cerelle… Lannister?”

“Baratheon.”

He frowned. A Baratheon with Lannister colouring, how was that-

Oh, how could he have been so stupid?

“You’re the missing princess.”

“The who?” Arya asked.

“Cersei Lannister’s oldest child.” He looked at his sister. “She disappeared a decade ago, you were too young to remember that.” Turning back he furrowed his brows again. “I thought you were dead.”

“It would have been better that way.”

Something must have broken in her during the massacre, and he didn’t understand why. She was the Golden Paladin, a knight if the songs were to be believed - this was her purpose.

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

“You’re coming with us to Riverrun.” He stood up. “And then… We’ll figure out what to do.”

The healer tried to tell him she couldn’t ride yet, that she needed rest to heal her wounds, but he wouldn’t hear anything of it. They needed to leave to avoid being captured.

And he would not let the princess out of his sight.

previous | next

[siravalondulac]

xxiv. the wedding

a heart so golden, a sun so bright

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: elle attends a wedding word count: 2016 warnings: explicit descriptions of blood, violence, injuries, death

masterlist

previous | next

The heat was slowly becoming unbearable. So many people in such a small space, the fires burning in the hearths all around, the tight leather around her chest, restricting her breathing, heating her up. And then the noise - people dancing and singing and shouting, it never seemed to go away.

Lady Catelyn had somehow acquired a soldier's garb that fit Elle - though the helmet was something she needed to get used to - and braided her hair into a tight crown around her head. She had assigned Dacey Mormont to keep an eye on her - not trusting her completely, despite having her swear to protect her son at all cost.

Now she stood in the shadows of the wall, gaze wandering over the feast. Servants came from behind the high table, supplying the guests with more and more alcohol.

Mayhaps she had been wrong. There seemed to be nothing amiss in the hall, or outside as well. Despite the scroll inside her pocket which clearly stated otherwise.

Mayhaps Benjiamin had lied. Had used the threat of something awful happening to get closer to her once more. It would not have been the first time he had done so.

Mayhaps the plan had been real, but it had fallen apart with Benjiamin’s death. The commander of the enemy forces lying dead and rotting in a ditch somewhere could not be helpful.

Her necklace hung heavier than usual around her neck. She had put the ring Benjiamin had forced into her hand around the chain as well, feeling that if something did indeed happen, it would be safer hidden underneath her tunica than on her finger. But she would not return it. Not after what he had done to her.

Her eyes wandered across the hall once more. The doors had been closed, men in armour standing in the shadows not unlike her. Hands on their swords, backs straightened, eyes surveilling the feast.

Then, the music changed.

The song had not been particularly liked in Dorne, and had been plain out forbidden at court, yet that had not stopped singers in the streets from performing it. She had learned about its history as well. And who it was performed for.

She looked up, towards the musicians on the balcony far above the high table. Lutes, violins, harps, flutes - and a crossbow.

Swear on the Old Gods and the New that you will protect my son at all costs.

Before the first arrow could be let loose, she had started running. A sharp wind passed her ear as she threw herself against Robb Stark, bringing them both to the ground. She grabbed his arm, quickly dragging him behind a table as screams started drowning out every other sound in the hall.

He barely had time to question her presence. The fear and confusion on his face as he looked around the fighting was surely mirrored on her own.

This was a wedding, a time for celebration. There were ancient promises, traditions protecting the guests-

A man came running at them, sword raised high above his head. She quickly swept his feet out from under him, drew her dagger, and plunged it into his throat before he hit the ground.

She froze.

The blood sprayed in all directions, coating her hand, her arm, the floor beneath. He clawed at the dagger, gurgling, trying to scream but bringing out no sound. She pulled the blade out, aimlessly hoping it might stop these awful things, yet only more ugly fluid came splashing forth.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest, hearing every pounding, flooding her senses, overwhelming her, not permitting her to think about anything else. She tried to breathe in, more and more and more, air, cold, anything. But she couldn’t- It was too fast-

His body had gotten limp, arms falling to the side, yet the terror was still in his eyes.

She killed him. That had been her. She had taken a life.

The noises came crashing down upon her, every scream reaching her ears all at once, every slash of a sword, every whirring of an arrow, every clashing of shattering glass.

Make it stop, make it stop, make-

Trying to wipe her hand clean of the blood only spread it more. Even closing her eyes and pressing down on her ears did not make the feeling go away.

She couldn’t do this. She had to go, to flee, to get out of this hall, this heat, away from the tugs around her heart, pulling her forward and back and left and right. It was too much, strangling, suffocating-

Had she not been knighted? Was this not what knights were for?

Fear is my greatest enemy. It can only lead to death and grief.

She dug deep inside herself, searching for that thing hidden deep, deep down. It would not be allowed to break free, but merely a drop or two of it would suffice to get her through this.

Father, please forgive me.

She opened her eyes.

The first three men fell easily to her, almost seeming surprised at her being able to fight back. A fourth had his throat cut open just as an arrow whirled past her shoulder and hit the wall before her.

The musicians had dropped their act, every man on the balcony holding a crossbow and firing into the masses below. There were short moments of pause where they had to reload.

She would not survive this if they were allowed to continue with their onslaught.

In one of the reprieves, she grabbed whatever sharp object she could find from the table before her, and in the next she started reciprocating the fire. One after the other, the bowmen collapsed to the ground, throats and eyes and chests pierced. A single one even fell over the parapet and crashed onto the high table below.

She was about to let loose on the last knife when a searing pain erupted across her back. Barely keeping herself from crying out, she whipped around and buried the blade into her attacker’s head.

The skin on her back was shifting strangely with each of her movements. Warm liquid ran down her body, soaking her ripped tunica. But that did not matter now. It could not matter. There were more important things to do.

She quickly got her hands onto a spear, yet in the thick mass of bodies both dead and alive it was more of a hindrance than a help. Men died anyways - throats slashed, hearts pierced, heads half removed from their bodies. She had long lost her helmet, and was glad for it.

An axe almost buried itself into the stomach of the lady that had been charged with watching her, but with a quick thrust of her spear the man joined his collaborators on the ground. The lady thanked her, but got no reaction back. This was not the time for pleasantries.

The king had picked up a sword as well, ready to defend himself and his lords, yet she quickly pushed him to the ground and told him to stay there. She could not have him running around playing hero. Heroes died, and he needed to live.

“Paladin!”

A man in a pink cloak dragged the lady she had made her promise to forward, a knife held to her throat. Some of the fighting around them ceased, either due to interest in their conversation or because there was no one left to kill anymore.

“This isn't your fight. Hand over the traitor king, and you and Lady Stark can leave.”

The king in question was about to run forward, desperation in every ragged breath, but she held him back, spear raised before them both.

Now that she had paused, the pain from her back threatened to creep up into her mind. She didn't allow it.

“I could return you to your family. No caveats, no conditions.”

She met the ladies' gaze. The expected emotions lay in it - fear, desperation, sadness. Yet the begging was what strengthened her resolve and convinced her to stay true.

“Is this truly what you want? To die a pointless death in a war that has never involved you?”

“Some people hold their oaths more highly than others.”

He grimaced. “I'll get him either way.”

The blood sprayed from the lady's throat, her limp body collapsing to the ground. And so the fighting started anew.

At some point a circle of men had formed around the king, taking every blade and every arrow meant for him. The gates had opened as well, only to let in a new slew of attackers, falsely dressed in the furs and leathers of the men helping her.

“We need to get the king out of here!” someone screamed at her after throwing a man against the wall.

“There is a servant's entrance behind the high table.” She ripped her spear and a handful of organs out of the man underneath her.

“Are you sure it's safe?”

“If you ensure our escape, I will get him out of here.”

She did have experience running away, after all.

The king had, despite her best efforts, grabbed a sword and started defending himself. When she tried to take his arm, he moved away, a feral look on his face, saying he could not leave his men to die.

She grabbed his collar and pulled his face close to hers. “Get your act together, Stark. If you die, this rebellion dies with you.”

His look soon turned from feral to horrified. Did he only now grasp the full weight of the situation?

“Just- Let me do one last thing. For my people.”

He picked up a crossbow and stepped onto a chair, raising himself above the bodies piling onto the floor.

“Lord Walder.” He raised the crossbow. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The bolt pierced the old man's face, pinning his head to the high chair he was sitting on.

She felt the blade before she saw it. The man with the pink cloak had approached the king and was about to plunge the still bloody knife into his body. Her spear had hit the lord's thigh long before, however, and she quickly closed her hand around the king's arm and pulled him after her.

On the way to the back of the hall, she ripped her dagger from a body's eye socket. There were barely any men blocking their path, and the door was not even locked. No one had seemingly expected this way could be used.

The stairs they descended laid in almost complete darkness. Her tunica barely clung to her shoulders, the cool breeze in the passage caressing the exposed skin and flesh on her back. She ignored it.

Their path led them through the castle's kitchens, the servants cowering against the walls, hiding behind mountains of untouched food.

They finally broke through to the open air, and were immediately hit by a wave of heat. The camps before them were wide aflame, the screams even louder than in the hall they had just left. He froze behind her, eyes wide and any conviction he might have had gone in the blink of an eye.

A person came running towards them. She pushed the king behind her, raising her blood-soaked dagger before her. He would make it to safety, she would fulfil her promise-

“Robb!”

“Arya?”

He pushed past her to embrace his sister, the girl looking not too dissimilar to the last time she had seen her. Coming up behind her was a scarred man she felt like she should recognise as well, though she could not fathom why.

She quickly found two horses, spooked out of their minds, but saddled, so she forced the king to abandon the arms of his sister and mount one of them. He followed her commands slowly, as if not in complete control of his body.

Despite the rising pain, she mounted her horse as well, having to catch her breath once she sat in the saddle.

Together, they rode through the fires, the blood, the screams.

previous | next

[siravalondulac]

i write for myself not for comments but dear god getting comments does so remind me of the joy of writing and sharing something

[siravalondulac]

xxiii. captivity reveals

a heart so golden, a sun so bright

asoiaf ff | fem!oc centric

summary: a lady encounters a prisoner and finds out the truth word count: 1492 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

Catelyn had heard about the woman from Dacey Mormont. Paladin. Lannister. Threatening them with another battle.

And now, she stood before her enclosure, waiting for her son to say something.

She looked odd. Her clothing might have once been quite regal, yet through the tearing and dirt not much of this gracefulness was left. Her golden hair was tangled and muddied, but still easy to see even through the sparse light provided by the torches. Three scars decorated the left side of her face. And through it all she still held herself like a lady.

Robb slowly opened the gate and stepped inside. Catelyn stayed in the shadows behind him.

The woman - girl - opened her eyes, gaze flickering shortly to her, piercing her with its vibrant blue fire, before settling on Robb.

“Who are you?” he asked slowly.

She cocked her head. “I thought I had already told you. Is the war truly this stressful?”

“Do not play games with me.” He stepped closer. “Everyone can see you are a Lannister-”

“What? Because of my blonde hair?”

“Because of your attitude. Your arrogance. And your absolute inability to remain patient.”

She scoffed, confirming her son's words.

“What is your purpose in the Riverlands?” he continued.

“Helping. Protecting. Saving. You choose.”

“Why?”

“Why? Have you looked up from your battle plans for even one moment? People are suffering because of your war. Anyone with even a sliver of honour would try to intervene.”

“On your family's side?”

The girl was close to screaming. “Are you this unable to see beyond your rigid politics? Innocents are being massacred, and you are refusing to help because of the possibility of assisting an enemy.”

Catelyn felt a presence approaching from behind her. She had experienced it often enough, yet it never failed to send a shiver down her back.

“You are deflecting. Who is your father?”

She shrugged. “I last saw him when I was a child. I barely remember him.”

The wolf stepped into the enclosure, taking its usual space next to Robb, who laid a hand onto its fur.

“Your mother, then.”

The girl shifted in her position, drawing her legs closer to her as she stared at the animal before her. “The same.” She cocked her head, a strange smile pulling at her lips. “What’s his name?”

“Why would you think he has a name?”

“Jon named his.”

Catelyn did not need to see her son’s face to know it changed at the mention of his bastard brother. They always did have affection towards each other, no matter how much she had tried to prevent it.

“You- You met Jon?”

She nodded. “About a year ago. He mentioned you, but we did not get to talk much about these kinds of things.

Silence for a few moments. Then Robb asked quietly, “How is he?”

“He’s doing well. When I left he had fully embraced his life at Castle Black.”

Catelyn recognised the meaning of the smile on her face in an instant, and despite her better judgement she was angry at the bastard.

Robb’s hand tightened in the wolf’s fur. “You are deflecting again.”

Her laugh reminded her of the quiet pattering of a forest creek. “Of course I am. How else would I break you away from the stupid notion that I am a Lannister?”

“You never will. What is your name?”

She smiled. “Paladin.”

He exhaled loudly and took a few steps backwards, until he stood in the cage’s exit. “I will deal with you after we have left the Twins.”

“Are you at least taking proper precautions when entering the castle?”

He huffed, and signalled the guards to close the gate.

“Robb, what did she mean by that?”

He seemed tired as he looked down at her. “She has heard that we will be attacked by Lannister forces soon, and that this will happen in combination with whatever happens at the Twins.”

“Have you looked into it?”

“Why would I? She only wants to scare us.”

Her son went to leave, but she quickly laid a hand on his arm. “I would like to talk to her.”

She had an… idea as to who the girl could be. After looking at her, a question Lady Dacey had posed her had gone through her mind over and over: If House Lannister was missing a lady. There was one, but the likelihood of her being here-

“Fine,” Robb said after a long while. He gave the command to the guards, and then left her alone with an open cage door before her.

The girl looked at her with curious eyes, likely having listened to her conversation with her son.

“You must be Lady Stark. What brings me the honour?”

The cage was the same one Ser Jaime had been kept in. To now have the girl sitting before her, looking and acting so alike to the Kingslayer only strengthened her conclusion.

“I know who you are.”

For a moment fear struck across the girl’s face. Then she cocked her head with a smile. “Do you?”

Catelyn walked closer and knelt right before her, not wanting the guards to report the conversation to their king.

Her familial ties were glaringly obvious at this distance, and she wondered if anyone else had figured it out before. Her hair, her face, the gleam in her eyes. She also got a look at her necklace.

“Of course I do, Princess Cerelle.”

Her expression was near unreadable. Then she broke out in laughter.

“You do not lack in boldness, Lady Stark, I shall give you that.”

“You do not deny it.”

“I do. What would a princess of the realm do running around in the Riverlands, playing at being a knight?” Her voice wavered at the last word.

“I have wondered that myself. Still do, in fact. But I have met Queen Cersei, and there is no denying you are the spitting image of her.”

“The princess is dead,” she hissed.

“The queen was convinced of the opposite. That you were still out there, and would return to her one day.”

The girl stared at her, without saying a word or moving a muscle. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “My mother talked about me?”

And suddenly, the person sitting before Catelyn was no longer the bold and opinionated Golden Paladin, but simply a girl; lost and broken and confused. Catelyn knew what it was like growing up without a mother, being so far removed from the proper guidance every young woman needed in her life.

“She did,” Catelyn answered with a soft smile. “She even wore a necklace that looked exactly like yours.”

Cerelle let out a shaky breath, something akin to relief in her eyes.

She wanted to ask the princess so much - why she had disappeared, what had happened to her afterwards, how she had ended up as a knight in the Riverlands.

“Please don’t tell the king,” Cerelle said quietly. “Please. I do not want to go back.”

“Why?”

“Please, just-” Her lip trembled. “It’s difficult to explain.”

She wondered what must have happened to make the princess so fearful of returning to her own family. Yet she could also use this to her advantage.

“I will not reveal your secret to anyone. If you help me with something.”

Cerelle furrowed her brows.

She continued, “You said there was danger coming towards my son?”

The princess nodded. “I know this must sound like a lie or a trap, but I swear what I heard is true.”

“What is this danger?”

“I have- A friend-” She took a deep breath. “A companion of mine is - was a part of the forces of House Vypren. He got a hold of a missive they had received from Lord Tywin - that they should rally their forces and march towards the Twins to catch wolves.”

“And you are certain this was not a ruse?”

“He died bringing me this message.”

Catch wolves. A discreet way of telling one’s allies who the next battle should be against.

“We are on route to the Twins for a wedding,” she explained to Cerelle. “I am concerned something will happen to Robb when we are there - Walder Frey is not a man who forgives slights easily.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to protect my son.”

The princess looked at her in confusion. “You have guards and soldiers aplenty. Why me?”

“You are a knight, your abilities well-known throughout the Riverlands. And you are the only one who knows and believes in this danger. Please.” She laid a hand on the princess’ shoulder. “Please help me. I could not bear to see the last son remaining to me harmed.”

Cerelle stared at her, seemingly weighing the possibilities of helping her in this. The opposite would of course have her secret be revealed, yet Catelyn did not feel bad about it.

“Fine. I will help you.”

previous | next