#joffrey baratheon fanfiction

[klarolineashur1919]

Robb Stark & Eriene Baratheon & Joffrey Baratheon

Eriene and Joffery loved each other as brother and sister and their mother let him twist it. She didn't stop him from twisting probably the only thing that wasn't twisted in him. Then Eriene met Robb who showed her what unconditional love was and that's how she loved him.

[lazuli-writes]

What if Joffrey Waters was a hero?

summary: A extremely brief look on turning one of the most hated brats into someone decent.

pairing: none

genre: rabbit hole rambles

estimated word count:

a/n: Apologies, this is ancient as heck and as such almost all of my former information that made up the rest of this au is a tad bit gone and nonexistent. I hope y’all can enjoy what little I have to offer. Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

Okie dokie, today’s topic of discussion follows this small tiny idea I had. What if Joffrey was a hero and lemme get y’all into it. This is gonna be a lot of gray areas and ooc-ness. But anyways, let’s start.

So I have three fixed aspects that changes the course of Joffrey’s story: 1) Joffrey discovers the truth of his heritage, 2) Joffrey lives on the isle of faces for a time and 3) Joffrey changes his name. And let me explain why I picked these three. Joffrey needs something horribly drastic in my opinion to make his head spin, what other way to do that then for him to discover his dad is his mom’s brother. That’s rough buddy. The isle of faces was a place I always wanted to explore. And Joffrey’s name change was a move I thought would be perfectly symbolic of him taking on a new life and also, the name “Joffrey” makes me gag every time I say out loud. So now let’s go on.

Boom Joffrey walks into a room and sees Cersei and Jaime doing the “utu bang bang” (islander term for sexc times) and his mind cannot handle the mental fallout. At first he’s filled with rage. He thinks his uncle is assaulting his mom. Trying and failing to attack his uncle who holds him still. Cersei tries and fails to comfort her son. He’s disgusted at the revelation that Jaime is his father. And does the only thing he can think of. He runs.

Fleeing a castle, then a city and then an entire territory under the control of one’s “parents” is a hard thing Joffrey comes to discover. Hiding in the red keep for a couple days to be alone with his thoughts is something that aids in helping Joffrey with digesting the news. Escaping kings landing in an effort to separate himself further was another hard feat. He wasn’t just trying to escape his mother so that she could try to feed him more lies. Cause turns out, his entire existence was a lie. He was a bastard born of incest. His father wasn’t his father. His mother and uncle were living it up. And it was clear that Joffrey’s life could never be the same again now that he was inadvertently enlightened to this whole damn conspiracy. Everything went out of whack real quick, too quick for Joffrey to properly process and accept. So instead of competing with his true parents in trying to maintain a secret, he instead decided “why not run instead?”

So he ran and ran and ran some more. Life on the road was EYE OPENING for the former prince. He didn’t know peasants really lived in such… poverty. It was disgusting at first. But soon when Joffrey discovered what it felt to be truly hungry in the same sense as some of the smallfolk did, cleanliness seemed liked the last thing on his mind. Bridlewood was a quaint village that Joffrey had found himself in eventually. The food he stole was really good there and he sold the last of the jewels he had for a night in an inn. But of course that lasted like five seconds before he had to go on running once again from his mother’s men.

Whitewalls or at least the ruined lands of whitewalls was not so much of a nice place. Though the land was salted in the distant past, some tough weeds seemed to grow anew. The castle’s foundations were decrepit and broken, but just enough to provide a stable place for Joffrey to nap. Right on the edge of the gods eyes, smallfolk were always passing by, whether they were camping on the grounds, sailing up and down the god’s eye or just traveling through. Obtaining food and water became less of a hassle with his stay there. By this point it has been months since he took flight from kings landing. Joffrey’s biggest concern was always being dragged back to face his mother who Joffrey genuinely believed to be sick in the head.

That was another fear Joffrey had come to realize eventually. Was he sick like his mother? He did not find any of his family members attractive. Then again no one caught Joffrey’s eye. He knew deep down he thought some were enough to give another look to, but the idea of being a romantic relationship with anyone was weird and uncomfy for Joffrey to consider. It wasn’t long before Joffrey’s temporary haven at Whitewalls were interrupted by the coming Lannister and Baratheon search parties that have become almost routine throughout much of the kingdoms, all searching for the lost prince.

So what did Joffrey do, run. Again. Well, not so much run but instead stole a raft and rowed himself across the gods eye. It was nighttime when the soldiers came so when he finally reached shore the first thing Joffrey did was pass out, exhausted from the manual labor he still had not become accustomed to due to his pampered origins. And it was these same pampered origins that made him freak out when he woke up in a cell of sorts. He thought that his mom had finally caught him and for a split second believed that she was gonna kill him to keep the secret. But no, turns out it was the green men of the isle of faces who had captured him.

For the sake of this large tangent of a what if, imma summarize Joffrey’s time in the isle of faces. So going off of the aging of the show, Joffrey was born in 282 AC, when he is twelve (294 AC) he leaves and spends months on the run before winding up on the isle of faces. Here he lives as a smallfolk amongst the green men. He learns how magic exists in the world and how everyone has a role to play in the war to come. Joffrey at the behest of the green men decides to take on a new identity, a new name for the new man he is to become so he takes on the name Jason (yes how unoriginal but that’s not the point). Now known as Jason, Jason learns the basic survival skills of any person lingering in the wilderness in Westeros. He learns how to start a fire and hunt using a bow and arrow. He learns how to fish and even skin game to make him clothes. And it’s through these strenuous acts that Jason learns to humble himself. Jason still has his issues, mostly mommy and daddy issues and how he lacks the ability to maintain trust in those he lacks a relationship with. Only few of the green men people are able to maintain a friendship with the new Jason because of his trust issues.

After spending three years on the isle of faces, Jason has become almost a man grown in the eyes of Westeros. He had learned to take of care himself and have even witnessed the inner magics of the Green Men. His greatest experience is when he was given a prophecy by one of the green seers on the islands;

“You will be the salvation of many animals in the forest young one. A lion, a wolf, a falcon and a trout. All of whom you will save. All of whom will betray you in the end”

The prophecy is something that shakes him to the core though he’d never… and now my train of thought is completely gone because I started this four years ago and found it again only now. Apologies, I truly didn’t want to end it here but I’m literally drawing ten thousand blanks on continuing this au so for now this will have to suffice. Please share any thoughts on how this au should play out cause I do remember that the people he saved was Jaime, Sansa, Sweetrobin and Edmure Tully. Some other prophecies I had pertaining to this au included :

Green men prophecies:

“You will be the salvation of many animals in the forest. A lion, a wolf, a falcon and a trout. All of whom, will betray you in the end”

“Four gold lions will dance with a dragon, one lion will flee as green flames fly, another will dance until the dragon dies, one will wear a golden crown and the last will crumble to the ground”

“Your gold crown is muddled with truths you will never have assured”

“You will always find refuge in the lands of the emerald crown”

Ghost of High Heart Prophecy:

“I see an ocean of broken fires is where the pride is waiting. A pride with a roar so powerful, even the dragons will calm at it’s sight, but only barely. Only waters can claim the pride, and with that pride, the waters will swallow up the last dragon in the world and see to the end of a kingdom”

Old Crone of Valyria Prophecy:

“If one wishes to go east, they must go west, only there will the waters see forth the future it desires. But be warned, yellow flames, red flames and green flames will come, waiting to swallow a man whole”

Joffrey’s Prophetic Dreams

“I saw a frail little falcon, and it was singing to the forest… trying to at least. But another bird, smaller but visibly stronger sang the same song as the little falcon. The other bird would sing so loud that the falcon could not be heard”

“A herd of horses are abusing a small wolf until a lion comes to slaughter all of the horses”

Do with that as you will, thank you for reading and again feel free to share any thoughts and possibilities of the au, thank you and bye!

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

[slavicdelight]

The Last Embrace

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Lannister! OC

Summary: Lorelle, Tywin Lannister's youngest daughter, forms an unexpected alliance with Oberyn Martell after defeating him in a duel. Their love blossoms, but tragedy strikes when jealousy leads to everything falling apart.

Warnings: death, cursing, angst

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In the heart of the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister welcomed his youngest daughter into the world, a fierce and spirited girl named Lorelle. From the beginning, her fiery nature clashed with the traditional expectations of a lady born into such a prestigious family.

As Lorelle grew, her independent spirit grew with her, driving her further away from learning of noble etiquette. She abandoned needlework for the training yard, where she observed the art of swordsmanship. Tywin, torn between pride and concern, could only watch as her interest differed from other young noble ladies. Word of Lorelle's exceptional skill with sword spread through the Seven Kingdoms, reaching the ears of Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne. Although he despised the Lannisters for what happened to his beloved sister Elia, he was curious if the rumours were true.

The first encounter between the two was marked by a clash of swords, or in this case - a spear and a sword. Each duel became a battleground for dominance, a fierce dance where neither was willing to yield.Oberyn's disdain for the Westerlands and its houses fueled the fire of their rivalry. In his eyes Lorelle was not just an opponent but a symbol of everything he despised about the realm.

Despite their hatered for each other, they decided to combine forces to travel together through Essos.The tension between them kept both nobles balanced on the egde.Yet, amidst the clashes, moments of understanding and mutual respect began to emerge.It wasn't until a decisive duel where Lorelle emerged triumphant that Oberyn's disdain began to shift. As he lay defeated, he finally acknowledge her skill. The dislike eventually evolved into a strange alliance, a bond forged on the edge of blades and the heat of their conflicting personalities.

During their tumultuous journey, Lorelle and Oberyn faced numerous challenges, each encounter adding layers to their complex relationship.One day, as they were riding through Pentos, a group of men attacked them. They were strong and quick. It was obvious that they’ve been trained to steal and kill. Thankfully, Oberyn's quick thinking and combat finesse saved Lorelle from an ambush, blurring the lines between adversary and ally. The tension that once defined their interactions slowly transformed into something more.

When Oberyn knelt before her, proposing a marriage with sincerity in his eyes, the tension reached its zenith. Tywin, recognizing the potential for an alliance, reluctantly agreed to their union. Lorelle became the Princess of Dorne, thrust into a political landscape that mirrored the complexities of her relationship with Oberyn.Yet, tragedy struck their already fragile union.

Ellaria Sand, fueled by jealousy and resentment, plotted against Lorelle. In a venomous act of betrayal, she poisoned the Princess of Dorne. As Lorelle's life slipped away, Oberyn's grief transformed into a burning desire for revenge, reigniting the tension between them in a different, more profound way. In a fit of righteous fury, Oberyn confronted Ellaria. The clash was brutal, mirroring the intensity of his battles with Lorelle.

In the end, justice was served, but the cost was high. Oberyn stood still after delivering avenging the woman he loved, a shattered man, his heart torn between the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that lingered between him and the memory of Lorelle.

In the aftermath, the halls of Sunspear echoed with a haunting silence. Oberyn, having avenged Lorelle, found himself with conflicting emotions. The memory of their fierce clashes lingered, intertwined with the love he discovered and the unresolved tension that defined their relationship.

As Princess of Dorne, Lorelle's absence left a void in the court. The alliances formed through her marriage hung in delicate balance. Oberyn, once fueled by a desire for revenge, now faced the aftermath of his actions. The people of Dorne witnessed a Red Viper who had lost his venom, a man torn between the love he found and the ghosts of his tumultuous past. The court of Sunspear whispered of Lorelle's legacy – a fiery princess who defied conventions, a skilled swordswoman who left a mark on the pages of history. Yet, the tragedy that befell her cast a shadow over the realm, a stark reminder of the fragility of alliances and the cost of vengeance.

Oberyn, haunted by the memories of Lorelle, retreated into solitude. The tension that once fueled their clashes now manifested as an internal struggle within him. The flames of revenge had consumed him, and in their wake, he was left with the ashes of regret.In the quiet corridors of Sunspear, Oberyn's gaze lingered on the places where he and Lorelle had faced both adversaries and each other. The sword that once clashed with hers now rested, a silent witness to the battles fought and the love lost.As the years passed, Dorne found itself in a delicate dance of politics and intrigue.

The memory of Lorelle became both a symbol of defiance and a cautionary tale. Oberyn, a once vibrant force, moved through the shadows of the court, a man forever marked by the flames that burned between him and the Princess of Dorne. And so, the tale of Lorelle and Oberyn became a legend – a story of love, rivalry, and the high cost of vengeance that echoed through the corridors of Sunspear, leaving behind a legacy as enduring as the ancient stones of the castle.

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A/N: This is a shorter story, but I hope you'll enjoy it just like the other ones.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 2.8k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n navigates the complexities of her new life in King's Landing, contending with the political intrigue and personal dynamics of the Lannister family

Warnings: Mature Themes, Possessiveness

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The day dawned clear and bright over King’s Landing, the air heavy with the weight of expectation. Word of our wedding had spread quickly, a union that would shake the foundations of Westerosi politics. Whispers followed me wherever I walked, eyes full of curiosity, envy, and, in some cases, fear. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in the realm, was marrying again, and not just anyone—me, a Tyrell, a daughter of one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the Seven Kingdoms.

The sept was adorned with Lannister crimson and gold, blended tastefully with the green and gold of House Tyrell. It was a show of strength, of unity between two great houses, but I knew the truth beneath the façade. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy—it was something far more complicated, more intimate. It was the culmination of everything that had passed between Tywin and me, a union that neither of us had planned for but one that now seemed inevitable.

As I stood in my chambers, my ladies helping me into my gown, I felt the weight of the day pressing down on me. The dress was a masterpiece, a deep emerald green trimmed with golden lions at the cuffs and neckline, an unmistakable symbol of my new allegiance to House Lannister. My hair had been braided and adorned with delicate golden chains, Tywin’s way of showing the world that I belonged to him now.

My heart raced as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how the world would see me after today. A Tyrell by birth but a Lannister by marriage. A new player in the game of thrones.

“Y/n ,” Margaery said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. She had been unusually quiet, her own ambitions simmering beneath the surface. She was to be Queen, and I her grandmother by marriage—our fates intertwined in ways neither of us had ever anticipated. “You look beautiful.”

I nodded, offering her a small smile, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I wondered how the day would unfold—how Tywin would act, what would be expected of me. The bedding ceremony loomed in the back of my mind, a tradition I found distasteful, but one I knew would be demanded by the court. Still, I had learned enough about Tywin to know that he would not let such a vulgar display take place, not with me. He was possessive, protective in his own way, and I suspected that even the suggestion of other men touching me would not be tolerated.

The sept was filled with the most powerful lords and ladies of Westeros. The great houses had sent their envoys: Olenna Tyrell sat with her usual smirk, clearly amused by the whole affair. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my father. I had seen her speaking with Tywin earlier, no doubt testing him as she always did, teasing him about the growing bond between our houses.

“Closer than ever now,” I could imagine her saying with that knowing smile. Tywin, of course, would not have been amused, though he respected Olenna’s wit. She was one of the few people who could match him in cunning.

As I approached the altar, I saw Tywin waiting for me, his expression as impassive as ever. He looked regal, powerful, every inch the Lord of Casterly Rock. Yet, when our eyes met, there was something else there—something only I could see. A flicker of warmth, of pride. Perhaps even affection, though he would never admit it.

The ceremony itself was a blur, the words of the septon washing over me as I stood beside Tywin, our hands joined in a grip that was both firm and intimate. As we said our vows, pledging ourselves to each other, I could feel the weight of the moment, the realization that I was now bound to this man in every way. He was my husband, my partner in every sense of the word.

The feast that followed was lavish, as expected. Long tables stretched across the hall, filled with the finest foods and wines. The high lords and ladies raised their cups to us, toasting our union, though I knew many of them were more interested in what this marriage meant for the balance of power in Westeros. Tywin sat beside me, his hand resting possessively on my knee under the table, a subtle reminder of his claim over me.

Margaery, sitting nearby, smiled serenely, though I could see the gears turning in her mind. She was focused on her own future, her own ambitions to become Queen. She glanced at me occasionally, as if to assess my own plans now that I was married to the most powerful man in the realm. I met her gaze, offering nothing but a quiet, knowing smile in return. We were both playing the game now, but we were on the same side—at least for now.

As the feast drew on, I could feel the tension building. The time for the bedding ceremony was approaching, and the lords were beginning to grow restless. I saw the glint in their eyes, the anticipation of the vulgar tradition where they would carry me to the bed, stripping me of my clothes and dignity.

But before anyone could make a move, Tywin stood, his voice cutting through the noise of the hall with the sharpness of a blade. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” he announced, his tone brooking no argument. “Any man who so much as touches my wife will lose his hands.”

A silence fell over the hall, the weight of his words sinking in. Tywin’s gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge him. No one did. The lords averted their eyes, suddenly interested in their food and wine.

His display of authority sent a thrill through me, my pulse quickening. It wasn’t just his power that excited me, but the way he wielded it so effortlessly, the way he made it clear that I belonged to him and him alone. It was possessive, yes, but in a way that made me feel more desired than I had ever been.

As Tywin took my hand and led me from the hall, I could feel the eyes of the court on us, their whispers following in our wake. But I didn’t care. All that mattered now was the man beside me.

Once inside our chambers, the door closed behind us, the tension from the hall melted away, leaving only the two of us in the quiet of the room. Tywin turned to me, his eyes dark with intent, his hands already moving to undo the laces of my gown.

“You are mine,” he said, his voice low and rough as he pulled me close, his hands firm on my hips. “And no one else will ever touch you.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through me, and I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as his hands roamed over my body. “Yes,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “I am yours.”

He didn’t waste any time, his hands deftly removing the rest of my clothes until I stood bare before him. He took a moment to admire me, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin before pulling me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

As he laid me down on the bed, his body pressing against mine, I felt a surge of desire unlike anything I had ever known. His touch was firm, commanding, and I responded eagerly, my hands gripping his shoulders as he moved over me.

“I will give you children,” he growled into my ear, his breath hot against my skin as he positioned himself between my legs. “Strong sons. Daughters to carry on our legacy.”

His words sent a thrill through me, and I arched beneath him, my body trembling with anticipation. “Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “Give me your children.”

With that, he entered me with a forceful thrust, his hands gripping my hips as he began to move with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. Each thrust was filled with purpose, with the promise of the future we would build together.

I clung to him, lost in the intensity of our connection, my body responding to every movement, every word. I had never felt so desired, so utterly claimed, and the thought of bearing his children, of being the mother to his heirs, only heightened my pleasure.

Tywin’s thrusts grew more forceful, more desperate, and I could feel the tension building in him as he neared his release. “You will bear my sons,” he growled again, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes,” I moaned, my body trembling beneath him. “I will give you everything.”

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into me, his body tense as he held me close, his breath ragged against my neck. For a moment, we lay there, our bodies intertwined, the weight of our future hanging over us.

But as we lay in the afterglow, I couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of father would he be? If he could be so cruel to his own children, what would he be like with mine?

I pushed the thought aside for now, focusing on the man beside me, the man who had just made me his in every way. Whatever the future held, I would face it with him.

And I would make sure that my children—our children—knew love, even if I had to teach Tywin how to give it.

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The days following the wedding were an exercise in learning the intricacies of my new life as Lady Lannister. While I had anticipated the whispers and careful gazes from the court, I hadn't fully understood just how much my marriage to Tywin would shake the foundation of King's Landing. It was no longer just a political alliance between Houses; it was a new chapter for the Lannisters, a merging of ambitions and legacies that would echo through the halls for years to come.

Tywin was already at work consolidating his plans, as expected. He wasted no time returning to his role as Hand of the King, and now, with me by his side, he seemed even more intent on securing his family’s dominance. But for all his strength and power, I could sense the slight tension in him when it came to his own children.

Jaime, always the more impetuous of Tywin’s children, had met me with a degree of indifference that bordered on cool curiosity. He observed me, his golden lion gaze flicking over me with the faintest hint of judgment. Yet, for all his disapproval of our marriage, he had not openly voiced it. Perhaps because he, more than anyone, understood his father's pragmatism. He could see what our marriage meant for the Lannisters, but there was something else too—a distance in him, as if he was unsure how to react to having a stepmother younger than himself. He greeted me with a forced smile and the kind of gallant charm expected from the Kingslayer.

“Welcome to the family,” Jaime said at one of our first dinners after the wedding, his tone bordering on teasing, though there was a guardedness behind his words. “It’s rare to see Father so... invested in someone.”

His comment didn’t miss its mark. I could feel Tywin tense beside me, but he made no outward reaction to his son’s veiled barb.

Cersei, on the other hand, was far less subtle in her hostility. Her disdain for me was evident from the first moment I entered the hall as Tywin’s wife. She made no effort to mask her contempt, her lips curling into a sneer whenever we were in the same room. I had anticipated as much; Cersei had lost her position as the only woman in Tywin’s life, and she resented me for it. What I hadn’t expected, however, was the coldness that came with it.

At one point, when we found ourselves alone in the gardens, she approached me, her voice dripping with malice. “Don’t think for one moment that you can replace my mother,” she hissed. “You may be Lady Lannister now, but you are still just another pawn in my father’s game.”

Her words were harsh, but I knew better than to take the bait. Instead, I smiled calmly, refusing to let her provoke me. “I have no intention of replacing anyone, Cersei,” I replied softly. “But we are family now, and it would serve us both better to work together rather than against one another.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more, storming off in a whirl of crimson and gold. I knew she would be a thorn in my side for as long as we remained in King’s Landing, but I wasn’t concerned. I had dealt with powerful women before—Olenna had taught me well. Cersei was dangerous, but she was also predictable.

Tommen, however, was a different matter entirely. Sweet, innocent Tommen had taken to me far more easily than his older brother. His childlike admiration for his new grandmother soon to be sister in marriage was endearing, and I couldn’t help but feel protective of him. He was the boy king, thrust into a world of power and deceit, and yet he retained a gentleness that neither Joffrey nor Cersei possessed.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Tommen asked one afternoon as we walked through the gardens, accompanied by Ser Pounce. “That you’re my grandmother, but also my soon to be wife's sister.”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair as he beamed up at me. “It’s a bit complicated, isn’t it? But I suppose we’ll have to navigate these strange family ties together.”

He nodded, content with the answer, and I felt a surge of affection for him. Tommen was an easy boy to love, and I knew that Margaery was already wrapping him around her little finger. She was the perfect queen for him—clever, kind, and ambitious. I had seen her ambition grow ever stronger since our marriage, her eyes constantly trained on her future as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Margaery had perfected the art of subtle manipulation. She showered Tommen with affection, and he adored her in return. There was no doubt in my mind that she would succeed where Cersei had failed. Margaery knew how to handle power, how to keep her enemies close while presenting the perfect image of a loving wife.

As for Myrcella, her fate had been one of the first topics Tywin and I discussed after our wedding. There had been talk of bringing her back from Dorne, but Tywin was firm in his decision. The marriage to Trystane Martell was still advantageous, and he saw no reason to disrupt the arrangement. I had questioned him about it, wondering whether he feared for her safety in such a volatile kingdom, but Tywin had been resolute.

“She is safest where she is,” he had told me one evening as we sat in our chambers, his hand resting on mine. “The Martells may hate us, but they will not harm Myrcella. Not while we hold such power over the realm.”

His logic was sound, as always, but I couldn’t help but worry. Myrcella was an innocent girl, much like Tommen, and I didn’t trust the Martells any more than he did. But I knew better than to challenge Tywin’s decisions on matters of strategy. He had spent his entire life mastering the game of thrones, and I had no doubt that he would keep his granddaughter safe, even from afar.

The court, meanwhile, had been thrown into a whirlwind of speculation following our marriage. I was the new Lady Lannister, and though I was born with the Tyrell name, I was now firmly embedded in the lion’s den. Some welcomed me with open arms, eager to curry favor with the new power couple. Others were less enthusiastic, their eyes full of suspicion and jealousy.

Whispers followed me wherever I went, but I had grown used to them. The courtiers may have thought they could undermine me with their gossip, but I had learned well from Olenna. I had my own sources of information, and I knew exactly who could be trusted and who couldn’t.

What surprised me the most, however, was the respect I garnered simply by standing at Tywin’s side. His authority was absolute, and by marrying him, I had inherited a portion of that power. People deferred to me, not just because of my position, but because they feared Tywin’s wrath should they slight his new wife. It was a heady feeling, knowing that I could wield influence over the court simply by being his partner.

But with that power came responsibility, and I knew I had to navigate the court with care. I had to maintain the delicate balance between being a supportive wife to Tywin and asserting my own place in the game. Tywin respected strength, and I intended to prove that I was not just another pawn in his plans.

[countrymusiclover]

4 - We Have A Thing For Knights Don’t We?

Part 5

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Mature content in this part 18+ and up

“Vaella. Come sit with me dear girl.” My mother opened her arms waving me over to the window that she sat near in her rocking chair. Normally my brother Viserys was in the room with her but a lady in waiting had put him down for a nap with a guard outside his room.

Rounding my way past her bed I sat down in the chair across from her, recalling the gown she wore was a simple gray one with her long hair flowing down her shoulders. “I wish father would allow you to move about the castle or at the very least not have a guard posted at your door.”

“I'm afraid I wished many things throughout my life. But I don't regret being a mother to you and your brothers.” She admitted to me resting a hand on her stomach.

Letting my curiosity get the better of me I ignored the presence of the guards on the other side of the door. “What’s one of the things you’d wish you’d done?”

“There was this one knight that I loved very deeply. His name was Bonifer Hasty from the Stormlands. But he was poor and wasn’t acceptable for a princess like me. And it wasn’t like your father and I had any choice of saying no to our arrangement.”

Putting my hands in my lap I sighed praying the same wouldn’t happen to me. “Hopefully that won’t happen for me.” Running my fingers through my hair I bite my lip gazing towards the window.

“I know that look. Who’s the man you want to sleep with?”

I gasped feeling my face turning bright red. “Mother!”

“It’s the same look I had. So who’s the lucky man to charm you, dear daughter?” My mother Rhaella sent me a look waiting for an answer.

I giggled leaning forward and she leaned closer, sensing I didn’t want the guards outside to hear what I was about to tell her. “It’s a knight in fathers Kingsguard. I - I hadn’t realized it until very recently when he confronted Ser Darry when he brought me to be with you. How he stood up to him worried about me and not about what could happen to him.”

“And what is this knight's name?” She asked me.

I smiled brightly at her. “Jaime Lannister.”

“Oh I see. His mother was a dear friend to me. Have you told him how you feel yet?”

I cut myself short from answering her question scrambling to my feet and out of her chambers in search of him. My mothers rare laughter could be heard behind me before I had exited her chambers. That was one of the only times I had seen her so happy ever in my whole life. “It couldn’t happen mother. He won’t forsake his vows for me. Why should I tell him when - oh my gosh I know why I need to tell him. It’s because I love him - Jaime!”

“Vaella?” I watched Jaime enter my room at the tavern while I kept my body hidden in the corner giving the power to slam the door and announce my presence, making him nearly jump up in the air. “You scared the living shit out of me.”

“What were you thinking when you attacked Ned Stark in the streets a few weeks ago hmm?” Was the first thing that came out of my mouth rather than greeting him with a smile or a hug like I normally do.

He sent me a confused expression. “What are you talking about? How do you even know about it?”

“I saw you. I had to give out alcohol seller the money and when I was on my way back I watched your confrontation.” I slowly stride up to him, hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Issi ao trying naejot rhaenagon nykeā vīlībāzma naejot jiōragon aōha lēkia arlī.” - ( Are you trying to start a war to get your brother back )

“What did you say?” Jaime knitted his brows.

I snarled towards him, feeling tears welling in my eyes. “Seven hells I wish you spoke Valyrian to know when I am cursing you out! I miss my brothers, damn it. I miss Rhaegar and Viserys. And now I struggle to watch you everyday spend time with Tyrion, even though I adore your brother It still hurts me.”

“Vaella-”. Jaime trailed off with a sympathetic tone.

Throwing my hands up into my hair I began pacing trying to not start bawling my eyes out thinking about all I had lost. “There’s nothing I can do. I was a prisoner in my own house but this was worse than that life ever was. Because now I'm alone. My parents are dead, my brothers, my unborn sister are all gone. I'm all alone now!”

“No you're not alone.’

I sniffed through tears looking back at him. “You're right - I have you. You told me you're not going anywhere.”

“That isn’t entirely true for long, I'm afraid.”

Eyeing him I nervously ask. “What’s going on, Jaime?”

“Many bad things I'm afraid…” He slumped down on the bed waiting before he began explaining. “Robert is dead and Joffrey sits on his throne now. Ned Stark’s eldest son has declared war for Joffrey putting his father in a prison cell. And because I'm in the Kingsguard I have to go fight against the Stark’s.”

“I don't want you to leave.” My voice broke hearing his last words.

He fought back. “It's not a choice. Joffrey has demanded I ride North to fight.”

“You promised me that we would be together. That nothing and no one would tear us apart!”

He rose up from the bed wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me against his chest. “If i don't go, Joffrey will put my head on a spike. I know you’re terrified but this is what has to happen.”

“B-but I…Swear it to me.” I gulped gripping the front of his tunic in my fingers.

His green orbs meet my purple eyes. “Swear what, Vaella?” We both knew that he had never broken a vow to me even if he had broken one to his former king.

“Swear that you will do everything you can to come home. Swear that you will come back to me no matter what happens.”

Jaime rested his forehead down onto mine vowing to me before we shared a deep kiss. “I swear I will come back to you, Princess Vaella Targaryen.” Leaning up on my toes i yanked the collar of his tunic deepening the kiss to terrified to break away from him, not wanting to let him go until he absolutely had to.

I let out a yelp when he lifted me into his arms, I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my lips against his. He kissed me back passionately and we stumbled towards the bed and dropped me down on it. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly and brought a hand to his cheek stroking it softly.

He lifted his tunic over his head and threw it to the ground. My heart began to beat for a second as I stared at him, my eyes directed down to his muscular chest, and blushed at the sight. I averted my eyes with my hands covering them quickly and tried to contain my blush, he looked up at me and smirked at my reaction. "See something you like, hmm?”

"A woman’s flower is the most important thing so I’m sorry I’m not familiar with sex." I pointed out to him when I peeked through my fingers for a split second.

"Vaella, we don’t have to do this." He reassured me, grabbing my hand with his. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to."

"No, I want to do this." I said, wishing my heart would stop beating so rapidly like I was scared.

He took a seat beside her on the bed scanning over her face as if looking for a sign that she wanted to back out finding none. "Don’t worry, princess.”

"Do you want me to kick you in your cock?" I challenged, eyeing him.

He shakes his head no in defense of my threat. “Seven hells no.”

“Then don’t use my title as a nickname.” I sniped back.

Jaime smirked, leaning down and cupped my face, pressing his lips on mine. “That would be against my nature, princess. Besides, you secretly love it.”

My hands started to trace his form, I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my gown. He yanked the fabric off my head, throwing it to the ground only once. "A dragon and a lion who would’ve thought.”

"My father would be furious if he saw us like this.” I laughed seeing how my eyes were trailing him.

Jaime muttered, sending me a smile. “Good thing your mother liked me.”

He pushed me down to the bed gently, towering over me. He grabbed onto one of my breasts and began to massage it gently before leaning down, lowering his lips down to one of my nipples and starting to suck on it. I began to whimper in pleasure asis felt his lips on me, he tugged on it with his teeth gently before switching breasts and doing the same thing.

He stood up from the bed and unbuttoned his trousers, tugging them down to his legs before stepping out of them wearing nothing but his boxers. He teared his boxers in a split second, releasing his member. My eyes widened at how big It was and wondered how that would fit inside me.

He knelt down in front of my legs and opened my legs up a bit, he ran his hands up my legs. "Jaime, I-"

"Do you trust me? " He asked, glancing up at me.

"With all my heart.” I replied struggling to catch my breath knowing that my heart was racing a mile a minute .

He hovered over me and brought his lips down upon mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced more into the kiss. I felt a hard rock positioned at my lower religion, he placed his member at my center and looked up at me. "Are you sure you really want this?"

"I want you." I said, gripping the bed sheets in my fingers, never moving my gaze from his. " Please just go gently."

He nodded and aligned himself against me before thrusting into me softly , I hissed out in pain as I felt him breaking through my wall, tears began to well in my eyes." You feel soo good, Vaella." He moved slowly against her, I bit down on my lip hard trying to bear through the pain.

Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraces me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back. He ran his body over every inch of my body he could reach, both of us slick with sweat as he moved against one another, our pants and moans filling the room. He leaned up on his knees and began to thrust hitting a certain spot inside of her.

“Jaime ! " I moaned out as his thrust became hard and fast, my boobs began to bounce up and down from the impact

I came moaning out loudly as I felt a wave of pleasure come over me. He came seconds later as I felt him emptying inside of med, both moaning and groaning while they did. He removed from her before laying down beside her trying to catch his breath alongside her. "Vaella, I’m sorry."

Rolling over onto his chest I eased his worries with a kiss. "I...I'm good, just exhausted." I felt my eyes struggling to stay open until I rolled over onto my side placing my head in the crook of his neck with us both falling asleep.

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

What Abigail wore to Joffrey and Margaery's wedding

When your first cousin marries your other first cousin vibes & a little excerpt ❤️

Sansa turned away from the spectacle, sickened by what she saw. As the horrendous display of cruelty and violence went on, another sound caught her attention. It was loud in her ears, the tapping of Abigail's clawed ring on the wooden table. She glanced over at Abigail, the previously joyous Lannister's face had turned dark. There was no joy in her expression, it was as if the light had been wiped from her face. Her hard gaze remained fixed on the horrid display as her ring dug into the table. Sansa's nerves were on edge, she felt as though something was about to happen and it wouldn't turn out well, and the longer she looked at Abigail, the more she was sure of it.

I'm sure we can all guess what's happening in this 🤭 also not entirely sure if I trust Abigail with the lip cuff because she'd probably start stress chewing it :/

[drymushroomfics]

Fraye Hill of House Lannister

Next

Chapter One

   Fraye Hill was basically the ward of Jamie Lannister. On a trip, Jamie had found her as a baby on the side of a gravel road. He could've killed her but something inside of him couldn't do it. He brung her to Casterly Rock before his sister had married King Robert. They all urged him against it but he fought to have her raised with the Lannisters. She remained at Casterly Rock until Joffrey was king.

            She stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the Lannisters; all golden blonde while her hair was black as night. She was raised with privilage even though she was not a Lannister. She loved to read and Tyrion Lannister read to her a lot as a child. They got along well and she knew she could always count on him. Tywin Lannister, on the other hand was a a bit harder to get a long with. Even though he scolded her, he knew how smart she was. She took to any task he put in front of her. She read a lot about war and battle. She was great at battle tactics. She had asked if she could assist in army affairs but he refused. He had stated that ladys do not concern themselves with swords and battle. He had even tried to marry her off when had turned 16 but she refused. He was angry for a while but told her that she had until the age of 19. If she had not married by then, he would see to it that she had to do as he choosed. She had agreed reluctantly. It angered Cersei Lannister. She hated being forced into marriage and she hated even more that Tywin didn't force you right away. Cersei didn't love Robert but she loved her children.  Fraye wasn't liked by Joffrey either. He had always hated her. He called her a rat and said she belonged in the trenches. She never liked him either. He was a spoiled brat who didn't understand who lucky he was. Now that he was king and her 19th name day was approaching, Joffrey would force the worst person upon her. He knew of her agreement to Tywin and the fact that he had promised a celebration for her name day, she knew nothing good would come of it.

             Fraye was known to be devilishly beautiful and had many marriage offers but she refused all. She refused to marry anyone she didn't feel something for. Now that her name day was approaching, she'd have to choose fast. That's where Kingslanding's Guard dog came in. She had seen him as soon as she arrived. He was standing beside Joffrey's throne. They had looked at each other. Something about him intruiged her right away. She wanted to know his story and she was going to find it out.

a/n: This is my first Sandor Clegane fic. I'm using an original female character. There will be themes of rape/non-consent and violence at times. I'm open to suggestions and let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy!

[danysdragonflies]

tweets from my upcoming ff

part 1

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

CHAPTER TEN — BAELOR.

made it out alive,                                 but i think i lost it.

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin.

remember how i died? when you started walking.

For what felt like weeks, Lyarra was not allowed to leave her chambers to do more than wander through the gardens. Sansa, to the best of her knowledge, was being kept from her — a fact that came as no surprise. They were the only Starks left free in King's Landing, it was only logical to keep them from one another.

Aianna was more often than not at her side, every minute of the day. The two ate together, after Lyarra's insistent pleading — they walked together, drank together. Aianna's presence in her life was becoming so familiar that for a moment, the cavity within her didn't feel so wide. The two were wandering through the gardens, when a regal voice called out behind them.

"Lady Lyarra," The voice chimed, a wave of tension flooding through the area at once. Lyarra spun in a flash, brushing her gown in an attempt to collect herself.

"Your grace," Lyarra started, taking in the fear that came with Cersei Lannister's presence. Cersei seemed to rise at the term, sweeping elegantly through the area to come to her side. In this light, she could almost see Jaime's face staring back at her. Identical was an understatement. However, Lyarra had never seen such malice in his eyes — as she saw in the queen regent's at that moment. All the while, Cersei's smile never once slipped from her face.

"My apologies for disturbing you," Cersei amended, though her tone held no true remorse. Lyarra watched as her gaze caught on Aianna, questioning — as if she didn't understand why the girl was still there. Aianna nodded at once, grasping the bottom of her dress in hand as she stepped out. "I was wondering if you might spare me a moment of your time."

Lyarra knew full well that she had no choice in the matter regardless, but she nodded all the same. Cersei stepped lightly to her side, taking a seat on a bench facing the water. The two were silent for only a beat, before she took note of the queen's imploring stare.

"You have a lovely family. Sansa, the little dove — she's perfect. And your sister-by-law? Lady Stark," Cersei paused, snapping her fingers to summon one of her handmaidens — who all but sprinted to her side, carrying a goblet and a pitcher of wine. The queen regent took one swig, before barring her teeth at Lyarra once more. "She's beautiful. Quite a kind woman, wouldn't you say? I'd hate to bring her more sorrow, in these troubling times."

"Aye, your grace. As would I," Her response only seemed to further amuse Cersei, who leaned forward in her seat — all but pushing herself into Lyarra's space.

"Then tell your brother to confess. Joffrey will name him a traitor to the realm, and have him sent to the wall. Don't let him be a fool."

"If only it were that easy," Lyarra breathed, straightening herself at once — when Cersei's eyes narrowed.

"And why wouldn't it be?"

"Forgive me, your grace. I meant nothing by it. I thank you for your mercy," She nodded, voice shaking as she bent her head low. For a moment, Cersei didn't move — seemingly taking in her anxious state. With a tut, she swept her gown to the side — standing in one quick motion. Just before she made it out of the gardens, she paused — turning back to Lyarra contemplatively.

"Oh, I almost forgot. A word of advice? It appears you've made a friend in Lord Baelish," She started, and at once Lyarra paused. "He's a fickle man, and easy enough to break — but a powerful ally. Don't let him go to waste."

A sharp rap at the door broke Lyarra from her fit of restless sleep. She rubbed blearily at her eyes, trudging to the wooden frame. She paused for only a moment, thinking over who could be at her door at this time of night. It wouldn't be Sandor. After he all but delivered her to her chambers, pulling her niece out of sight — Lyarra was certain she wouldn't see the man again soon. She pulled open the door, taking in the man before her. Varys stood only a foot in front of her, his face covered by a hood — coated by the looming shadow of the halls. He made no indication that he intended to speak, and only stepped away — all but silently guiding her somewhere.

Lyarra stepped back only to locate her furs, pulling them tight around herself as she followed after the man. It was only when the pair began descending down a narrow set of stone steps, that she came to realize where he was guiding her. Down to the dungeons. Her heartbeat rose in terror, her pulse jumping in spikes. Varys was a friend of the crown, an ally to the Lannisters — he could very well be guiding her to her new place of stay. Varys, then, gently eased open the metal gate leading to the cells.

She stepped into the shadows, her gaze narrowing in on the dark figure before her. Before she could control herself, Lyarra dashed to her brother's side — picking his head up in one quick motion to look over him. Eddard grunted at her, but moved just as desperately. He flinched at the light of Varys' torch, raising a hand above his face.

"Eddard— Ned," She started, still running her hands down his face.

"Lord Stark, you must be thirsty." Varys interrupted, raising a wineskin to Ned's face. Her brother raised a brow, taking in both of their presences with equal confusion.

"Varys?" He questioned, looking over the man. "Why would you bring her here, where someone could see you? If she's found—"

"She won't be, I assure you. I have little birds watching our every move. I thought it would do you good to be with family, in these trying times." Varys explained, still holding the skin to Eddard. "I promise you, it isn't poisoned."

Lyarra reached over to take the skin from Varys' hands, taking a swig before she could think better of it.

"Why is it no one ever trusts the eunuch?"

Warily, Ned took it from her hands — gulping down what he could. In an instant, Varys rushed forward — his hand hovering over the skin in trepidation.

"Not so much, my lord. I would save the rest, if I were you. Hide it. Men have been known to die of thirst in these cells." Lyarra shot Varys a sharp glare at his words, causing him to only raise a brow in response.

"What of my daughters? Sansa? And Arya?" Eddard inquired, his voice shaking in hesitation. Lyarra reached to grasp his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to placate the man.

"Arya seems to have escaped the castle," She started, only squeezing stronger as Ned all but shot out of his spot against the wall. "Ned, trust me, I will do everything in my power to find her — but she's safer the further away she is."

"And Sansa?" He questioned, nodding as he took in her words.

"Still engaged to Joffrey," Varys answered, "Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household, though, all dead, it grieves me to say. I do so hate the sight of blood."

Eddard took another swig, leaning to rest his head against the stone behind him. Lyarra, still bent at his side, curled her legs underneath her — dirtying her robe in the process.

"Do you see now, brother, what I was telling you? This is a game to them. You shouldn't have shown them your hand."

"What madness led you to tell the queen you had learned the truth about Joffrey's birth?" Varys agreed, 'tsking' as Ned all but grumbled at the inquiry.

"The madness of mercy. That she might save her children."

"Ah, the children." Varys started, and for a moment Lyarra was struck by the thought of her own children. Jeyne was safe in Winterfell — something she was more than grateful for. Jon, however, was with the watch. Safer than she was, but she could only wonder how he was faring. "It is always the innocents who suffer. It wasn't the wine that killed Robert, nor the boar. The wine slowed him down and the boar ripped him open, but it was your mercy that killed the king."

Lyarra winced as Varys continued, running a comforting hand along her brother's arm. Ned furrowed his brow, grief flooding into his gaze in waves. She was overcome with sympathy, in that moment. Eddard loved the king, as one loves a brother. The thought that he caused his death likely filled him with nothing but sorrow.

"I'll give you both a moment alone, after this. But I must say, you do know that you are a dead man, Lord Eddard?" Lyarra bristled at the question, but Varys only waved off her concern — eyes narrowing defiantly.

"The queen can't kill me. Cat holds her brother."

"The wrong brother, sadly. And lost to her. Your wife has let the imp slip through her fingers."

Lyarra observed as her brother paused in thought. Each safety net was lost to him. He had nothing keeping him alive, keeping him safe from the wrath of Cersei Lannister.

"If that's true.." Ned started, avoiding her stare with purpose, "then slit my throat and be done with it."

Varys only shook his head, glancing to Lyarra with a narrowed stare. She knew well enough the two had little time. That these could be the last moments she spends with her brother, if fate proved to be favorable to the Lannisters.

"Ned, if you are given the chance — appeal to the queen. Appeal to Joffrey, if you must. Do anything that you can. He will have you sent to the wall. You'll live out the rest of your days as a traitor, but you'll be alive all the same."

"Do you truly think that my life is some precious thing to me?"

"Think of your daughters, then. How will Sansa fare in the capital, knowing she's dining with your killers? Or Arya, lost – and afraid? And what of your sons? You'd condemn them to the same fate that we suffered? Life without a father?"

Ned paused at once, furiously pulling off the cap of the skin to take another swig. After a moment, a sharp thud echoed through the room. They were out of time. Varys swept back into the room, torch in hand — his stare wary. Lyarra lunged forward, pulling her brother into her arms. Eddard leaned into her touch to the best of his ability.

The thought of living without her brother filled her with fear that she hadn't felt in years. The hole that he'd leave in her heart would be insurmountable, forever left gaping. She wished, only then, that Lyanna would be there waiting for him — if he did not manage to make it out of this. She gave him one last lingering kiss on his forehead, before standing to make her leave.

Just before she could follow after Varys, a hand reached out — grasping onto her wrist.

"Lyarra, Lord Baelish—" He started, but was quickly cut off by Varys' pointed tone.

"Forgive me, Lord Stark, but if you do not wish for your sister to be caught and thrown in here alongside you — we must make our leave."

Eddard swallowed, brow furrowed once more. He waved her off, and before she could allow herself to fall back to his side — Lyarra marched forward, following the light of Varys' flame. Just before they had returned to her chambers, Varys took a sharp turn — leading her into the corner of the hall.

"If you didn't listen before, I do hope you'll listen now. You have friends in King's Landing. More than you know. But the ones you have chosen to put your trust in, wish to see the collapse of your family from within. Trust no one. Not even your closest allies."

With that, Varys swept away — leaving Lyarra to wobble in his wake. There was no doubt in her mind that he had been referring to Sandor. If it wasn't known that the two knew one another more than they should, it was made glaringly obvious at the tourney. Only, a thought lingered in the back of her mind. If he wasn't thinking of Sandor, who, then, could he have been referring to?

That night, Lyarra told Aianna she was resting early, and only once the girl crept out of the room — did she peel her furs off of herself, silently dressing herself. Sneaking through the keep was harder now that Lannister guards littered the hall, but she toed through the shadows all the same. It was only when the familiar walls of the brothel came into view, that Lyarra allowed herself a moment to breathe.

As she entered the building, she pulled her hood back warily. Petyr, unsurprisingly, was sitting at his desk — pooling over a pile of papers. His head snapped up at the sight of her, but he didn't look entirely surprised. Instead, he waved her over — gesturing for her to take a seat at his side.

"I'm surprised you managed to make your way out of the keep unscathed." He remarked, his lip curling into a grin. She only shrugged, reaching across his desk to pour herself a mug of wine.

"I'm certain if the queen wanted me locked away, I wouldn't have made it out." She answered, leaning back as the chair creaked beneath her. Petyr hummed, flicking his quill as he wrote.

"Petyr," She called. He did not do so much as raise a brow, but his quill did stop in its movements. "What happened? I thought the city watch would come to Ned's aid."

"Your brother works hard, my lady. I'm afraid the Lannisters simply work harder."

Lyarra nodded, resigning herself to the knowledge that she wasn't going to get anything else out of the man. In an instant, Petyr went back to his movements — leaning into the page. The two sat in silence for what felt like hours, before he finally placed the pen down — turning to Lyarra with purpose.

"I take it you've come to trust my word regarding Clegane?" Petyr inquired, shifting in his seat to face her properly. Lyarra felt her throat close, her blood rushing through her. She'd avoided thinking of the man, to the best of her ability. She didn't search for him in the halls, nor let her mind wander. Lyarra only shrugged once more, taking another swig of wine. Petyr, however, seemed delighted at her response. "The Hound would be a formidable ally, I admit. But he is not a man to be trusted."

"Then, who is?"

"My dear Lyarra," He admonished, reaching to clasp her chin in his hands. At once, her gut plummeted — heat rising from his touch. Petyr ran his thumb across her cheek, pressing in slightly to create pressure against her. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, growing quicker within the second. "You know well enough that we can only trust one another. We're alone in this, as it should be. As it was meant to be."

"Can you imagine what the younger versions of ourselves would think? The young ward of Hoster Tully — and Lyanna Stark's twin sister." She held in her flinch at the mention of her sister, instead choosing to nod resolutely with his words.

"I always wanted this for you," Lyarra all but whispered, her fist clenching in her lap. Petyr seemed to pause, his eyes widening. Just as quickly, he collected himself, straightening his collar.

He stood then, pushing in his chair delicately as he presented a hand to her. She took it after a moment of hesitation, raising at his side. He guided her back to the keep shortly after, this time making no effort to linger in the shadows. None of the guards seemed surprised by her presence, and rather only shot her a flit of a glare — before allowing her to push past. Once they reached her door, Petyr paused — leaning forward to place a kiss at the top of her brow. Lyarra felt herself freeze, her breath shallow.

Just as quickly as he'd appeared, Petyr was gone — leaving only the sound of his robe flapping in his wake. As Lyarra reached to open the door, she noticed a large shadow — a figure standing guard, coated by the lack of light in the hall. She only needed a second longer to discover who the figure was. There, Sandor Clegane stood — his gauntlet clenching the hilt of his blade. Lyarra swallowed harshly, before quickly entering her room — all but slamming the wooden door shut behind her.

As expected, sleep evaded her that night. Each time her eyes shut even in the slightest, she was met with the sight of Sandor — standing in the shadows, just as he had been.

The Great Sept of Baelor was a formidable sight, a large enough creation to make one feel dwarfed in comparison. For the first time in days, Lyarra was at her niece's side. When she'd first caught her eye, she had to wrangle the urge to dash to her. Instead, she only stepped in her direction — clutching her hand in hers as the king approached.

The trial of Eddard Stark was soon to come, and Lyarra felt her heart plummeting by the second. Arya was nowhere to be found, a fact that only filled her with further horror. Lyarra cursed herself for not knowing the true extent of the death of her own father. And yet, she was grateful she didn't have to take the sight in herself.

At their side stood the queen, who had her hair styled in a way similar to Sansa's, a fact that was likely intentional. Joffrey, who stood on their left — was adorned with a golden gown, with red stripes. Sandor was hardly noticeable among the group, and yet her eyes lingered on him all the same.

The crowd jeered as Eddard was dragged out of the dungeons, shoved to stand before the king. Sansa trembled at her side, causing Lyarra to reach forward to rest a hand on her arm. Petyr, who stood on the step just below the pair, shot them both an almost-sympathetic glance.

"I am Eddard Stark," He started. At once, Lyarra felt her gut twist into a pit of terror. "Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King."

Ned shot a quick glance to both Lyarra and Sansa. Sansa nodded back, a tentative smile coating her lips. She believed Eddard would be released, that all would be well. Lyarra could only wish she was as hopeful as her niece.

"I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son — and seize the throne for myself."

Lyarra swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat as he continued. The thought of her brother disgracing himself, convincing the word that he was a traitor — that he would ever betray the man he viewed as a brother — it made her sick. Eddard fell back as a rock hit his temple, thrown by a member of the crowd. At once, Lyarra dashed forwards instinctively — but was quickly grabbed by her wrist. Petyr shot her a sharp look, nodding towards the guards who had their stare trained on her. Ned met her eyes, shaking his head as subtly as he could manage. Sandor quickly shoved him back into place, catching her gaze for only a moment.

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the iron throne, by the grace of all the gods — Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The Grand Maester, Pycelle, stepped forward then, raising a hand to placate the jeers of the crowd.

"As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." Pycelle paused, turning to Joffrey with a shaking step. All the while, Sandor seemed to have stepped closer — now standing just behind the king. "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch," Joffrey began, raising a hand to wave to the crowd. "Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father."

At once, the crowd went silent. Sansa shot the boy a soft smile, one filled with hope. With each coming moment, Lyarra felt dread building within her. Reluctantly, Petyr met her gaze. She knew, at once, what was to come. Petyr did not appear fearful, nor altogether hopeful. He knew, just as she did — that the king was not in the business of sparing mercy.

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

Lyarra could hardly hear anything outside of the sound of her own heartbeat. Distantly, she could just make out Sansa's cries — echoing louder than the sound of the queen pleading with her son. Petyr grasped onto her hand in an attempt to pull her back, but she only wobbled in her step. Eddard reared back, and what Lyarra found in his eyes filled her with overflowing horror. Eddard was scared, terrified. She'd never seen such emotion in his gaze. For the first time, he wasn't there to comfort her — he couldn't be. He couldn't help her through this, but she could help him. As Ser Ilyn unsheathed his blade, Lyarra wrenched herself out of Petyr's grasp — dashing forward to her brother's side. If only she could reach him, she could push him out of harm's way. He could run, maybe. She could take the blade for herself, fight each of them off.

Just before she was at his side, she was pulled back once more — this time with a harsher yank, though not an unfamiliar touch. Sandor had her arms in his grasp, making quick work of spinning her to face him. In the chaos of the moment, no one would notice them. No one would take note of the gentle way Sandor Clegane leaned down, grasping her face in his hands so that she would meet his eyes — and not the empty stare of her brother. So that she would focus on the sound of his breathing, and not the blade meeting Eddard's neck. No one beyond Petyr, that is.

Lyarra buried her face into the chain of Sandor's armor, clinging onto it in an attempt to hold herself up. Screams tore their way out of her lips, muffled only in the slightest. She couldn't live without her brother, not anymore. Losing Brandon was a pain like nothing she'd felt before. Lyanna's death felt as if she'd lost a part of herself, forever empty. But Eddard? Lyarra wasn't certain there was much left to lose. Eddard had been her rock — the one wholly good person she had ever met. A man with honor bleeding down to his core. Her love for him was overflowing, all encompassing — and now, it felt as if the light inside her had been extinguished.

"Don't look, Little Wolf. Don't look," Sandor grunted, pulling her closer to his chest. Only a moment after, he pulled away — gently pushing her to Petyr's side. She realized, then, that his words had been an apology of sorts. He couldn't coddle her any longer, but knew better than to move from her line of sight. Sandor, at once, turned on his heel to his king — who commanded he bring Sansa to her chambers.

Lyarra did her best to take heed of his words, carefully avoiding the now lifeless, headless body of her brother. Instead, she glanced over her niece — who was staring at her pleadingly. Sansa needed her, she realized. She hadn't looked away, she'd seen her father slaughtered before her very eyes. She, just as Lyarra had been, would be raised without a father. Only, she had no other family to protect her — she was far from home, trapped in the Lion's den.

Lyarra swore to herself in that moment that she would not let the Lannisters get their claws on Sansa Stark. She would protect her niece by any means, even at the cost of her own life. Petyr attempted to point her in his direction, but she only stared after the girl as they pulled her away — her heart steeling itself in resignation.

So. Then that happened. This was one of the shorter chapters I'd say, but a lot did happen in it. Lyarra and Sandor are not on the best of terms, but he still shows that he cares for her. Crazy right ...

And what could Varys have meant?? Was that what Ned was going to warn her about?? This is getting intense guys I need a drink.

I don't have much else to say about this chapter tbh. I had to rally myself to complete it. I'm going through a lot outside of this at the moment, so finding the motivation to write has been troublesome. I do have big plans for this fic, though. And I will 100% complete it.

So, here is a bit of an explanation of the plotline of the other characters for a moment. Jon will be following the show plotline, same as Daenerys — with the exception that they share dreams with one another. They meet each other in a dream state more than once (which is alluded to in the previous chapters). So that is something to bear in mind!

On top of that, Reyne will be with Bran and Rickon for multiple chapters. When something happens in her plotline that changes, I will leave a note down here to let you all know. I think only a few chapters will have different POVs, and they will be few and far between.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed! As always, feel free to leave a comment blow.

Thank you,

Zevran.

[plzhearmeout]

live footage of me realizing i have to write joffrey to write this fic:

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Character: Sansa Stark

Sample Size: 15,616 (non-explicit) stories; 4,447 (explicit) stories

Source: AO3

Note: The top chart only includes stories that are NOT explicitly rated. The bottom chart only includes stories that ARE explicitly rated.

[bluemargotrobbie]

LA BELLEZA QUE CAUTIVO AL REY| FANFIC EDIT| MARGAERY Y AEMMA 🌺🔥

Estás son las dos mujeres que cautivaron al Rey en su momento por su belleza exquisita y deslumbrante

La belleza de lady Margaery era conocida, sus ojos de gacela y su mirada cautivante

La belleza de Aemma Velaryon era inquietante, era magnética e hipnotizante, una belleza poco vista ..así como es la belleza Valyria .

Así como la belleza de aquellas dos mujeres quienes les dieron vida, Natalie Dormer y Barbara Palvin Sprouse.

📚: 𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗠𝗔 (publicado)

🖋: LunaticaBlack (wattpad)

🌎: HOTD

💌: Aemond, Aegon T& Cregan Stark

👤: Aemma Velaryon

[justagirlwholikesadam]

His Queen

Summary: I made this because of a tumblr post about Sandor being with Joffrey's wife and they get together and he's soft with her and she has his baby. I don't recall the name of the post but I wrote something like that but with my own twist. Enjoy.

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You were visiting King's Landing when Sandor met you. At first he thought nothing of it, many highborns came to visit King's Landing all the time. He followed you and Joffrey around since he was Joffrey's guard. Sandor wouldn't forget the day when you came to King's Landing. You wore a gown showing your curves, hair was brushed and braided. He kept staring at the yellow ribbon you had tied around your hair as he followed behind.  Sandor knew you were different from the rest who visited King's Landing. You were sweet to everyone, to the servants and to the people. He had even caught you visiting the orphanage and to the sept. 

Sandor had seen women throw themselves to the blonde king but for the first time Joffrey was throwing himself at you. Few days later, King Joffrey asked for your hand in marriage. His mother was overjoyed that her son was marrying you, the princess of a wealthy king from beyond west of Westeros. Sandor wondered if everyone from west of Westeros was nice like you. 

You gave everyone a smile, even to him. Sandor couldn't help but stare at you when Joffrey introduced you to him. 

 "He's my dog." Joffrey told you. Sandor saw your pretty face frown as you tilted your head to the side. 

 "What?" You asked, looking between Joffrey and Sandor. 

 "My princess, he's my dog. Sandor Clegane. My loyal dog." Joffrey said with a chuckle. You didn't chuckle or even laugh. 

  Joffrey was about to say something when Mery Trant came and asked for a moment with him. The king excused himself and walked away leaving Sandor with you alone. 

 Sandor watched as you looked over your shoulder at Joffrey then looked back at him with a smile. 

 "I do hope you'll be loyal to me as well, Sandor." You said, making him nod. 

 "Aye, you are to be my queen and I'll be your loyal dog." He told you emphasizing the word, dog just like Joffrey did. 

 "You know." You told him as you walked closer to him, looking up at him as you held your hands in front of you. 

 "I adore dogs but you, Sandor Clegane, aren't one." Sandor looked away from your gaze and stared down at the cobblestone. You looked at him with no fear or disgust. He didn't know how to feel about it. 

 "Shall we?" He heard Joffrey ask when he came back. Sandor looked ahead when you walked away leaving him behind. He saw you and Joffrey sharing a laugh as he offered you his arm to hold on. 

 It wasn't long before the wedding was held. It was the biggest wedding ever held in Westeros since the people of King's Landing liked their soon to be queen. Sandor had to admit you were a people person. You actually helped the people in your time in King's Landing. You reminded him of Margaery Tyrell, he hoped you didn't end up like her though. The girl was Joffrey's first wife but was poisoned on the day of their wedding feast. 

 They never found out who did it. It was a mystery to most, not to him though. Sandor knew who did it. Margaery got into Cersei, Joffrey's mother's bad side. 

 A month after the wedding, Joffrey had to leave King's Landing to deal with another house that required his presence. You had asked Joffrey to leave Sandor with you. You had batted your eyelashes at him and gave him a kiss when he accepted. 

 "Well, if my queen asks for the dog then so be it." Joffrey said. 

 Sandor was in disbelief when Joffrey had told him to stay behind and look after you. 

 "Keep a close eye on the queen, dog. I don't want anyone near her while I'm gone." Joffrey told him before leaving King's Landing. Sandor walked back inside the castle and was told you were in your room getting ready for supper. 

 Sandor made his way to your chambers. He can hear light chattering from the outside. He looked inside and saw you were standing in the middle of the room as your handmaidens surrounded you. You held your arms out as they did the last finishing touches of your dress and put on your accessories. With one hand you held a scroll, reading it silently as one of them slid the golden rings on your fingers on the other hand. 

 He didn't say anything, he didn't have to because you felt him staring. You looked towards the doorway and gave him a smile. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the sight of you smiling at him. It was a genuine smile you gave him, it had to be because no one ever smiled at him. 

 "I'll be having supper in the gardens today. Set a plate for Sandor. He'll be joining me." You told one of your maids as you walked away to put the scroll down. 

 "Leave us." You commanded the rest, Sandor moved out of the doorway for the flock of women leaving your chambers. He ignored the looks that the women gave him as they left him alone with you. 

 "Come in and shut the door." You told Sandor. He obeyed and walked inside, shutting the door behind him. He watched as you opened the door of the balcony. For the first time the smell of shit was gone and fresh air came breezing in the room. It was one of the things you got rid of, the waste. 

 "Joffrey was nicely enough to give you to me during his absence." You said walking to the small table of beverages. You grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured it into a goblet. 

 "Aye. I'm here to protect you. To look after you." He told you as you walked towards him with two goblets of wine. You passed him one. 

 "Why?" He asked, looking down at you. He wanted to know why Joffrey left him to care for you. He was Joffrey’s guard not yours. 

 "What do you mean? Why?" You asked, taking a sip of the wine. 

 When Sandor didn't respond, you gently pushed the goblet towards his mouth. "Drink." You told him and he did, he wasn't going to say no to fancy wine. 

 Later that day, Sandor sat across from you during supper. He had to admit, supper was good. You had told the cook to make chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables. Bread was served along with different types of cheeses. Sandor ate his chicken as you ate different types of berries with cheese. Light conversations were made and while the wine was kept serving to him and you. Sandor was in a good mood. He even made a few jokes, earning a few hearty laughs from you. 

 "Was supper to your liking?" You asked Sandor. After supper, he was escorting you back to your chambers. You walked next to him instead of in front of him, Sandor had noticed it a while back. You never walked in front of him whenever he was with you alone. You liked being next to him. You had even grabbed onto his arm while walking at one point.  

 "Aye, never thought I would eat with the queen." Sandor said, making you chuckle. 

 "We should make it a regular thing when Joffrey isn't here." You told as you side-eye him. 

 "When he comes back, he will have you all to himself. I'll be sad because we won't spend time together." Sandor stops in mid step at your words. You had stopped as well when you noticed Sandor wasn't walking next to you. You turned around to see him staring at you. 

 "It's true. I only see my husband during the morning then when eating then late at night when he is done torturing his whores." Sandor felt his mouth go dry.  

 "I know about it." He let out a deep breath. "I'm not stupid, Sandor." He knows that now, you aren't dumb as Joffrey likes to think. 

 You walked closer to Sandor, you were so close to him that he could smell the light scent of lavender soap still lingering on your skin. He could see every beauty mark on your face, every eyelash around your pretty eyes.

 "Honestly, I don't give a shit. He can do whatever he wants. Joffrey has never hurt me like the whores but his words can be cruel." You told him as you looked at his white cloak hanging behind his back. 

 You saw the blood and dirt stains on the cloak, you reached forward to grab it. Feeling the fabric and the dried blood on it. You remember his words when he told you why he hadn't taken the knight's vows during supper. 

 "Be glad it's just words, my queen." Sandor told you softly. 

 Sandor knew what you meant. He never saw Joffrey lay a hand on you but he did hurt you with words. He would call you stupid for loving the ungrateful people of King's Landing. Joffrey would undermine you and intimidate you. Sandor can only imagine how Joffrey acts towards you when he wasn't there. 

 "Words can hurt, Sandor." You told him as you let go of his cloak and touched his chest, your fingers tracing the chest plate of his armor. 

 "Aye." Sandor agreed with you with a small nod. He knows all too well of it. He has grown immune to the cruel words said to him. Words like monster, ugly, evil, and dog. 

 "If I ask you something. Will you do it for me?" You asked him as you removed your hand from his chest. 

 "Anything." Sandor responded. "You won't tell anyone?" 

 "Not a soul." He said. 

 "Come to my chambers tonight. Don't let anyone see you." You told him. You didn't wait for his response. You turned around and continued to walk. Sandor watched as you walked down the hall then entered into your chambers. 

 It was late at night when Sandor released the knight guarding the hallway.  Making sure the knight was out of his sight, Sandor walked towards your chambers. Sandor thought it was a joke when you told him to meet you at night. Perhaps you were waiting for him to come and laugh at his face. 

 He saw the door was slightly open, he slowly pushed the door open trying to not make a sound and looked inside. He saw you there, sitting on an armchair near the balcony. Candles were lit around you, providing you light as you held a book in your hand. Your hair was down and slightly wavy from the braid you wore earlier. His eyes widened at the red and golden robe you wore, it wasn't fully closed. He can see the valley between your breasts, that’s where a gold necklace laid. 

 He cleared his throat loudly making you look up from your book. 

 "You came." You said shutting the book. 

 "I did." Sandor said, walking inside and closing the door. 

 "The lock." You pointed up at the metal lock above the door. Sandor locked the door, giving it a pull to make sure it was properly locked and looked back at you. 

 "Do you read, Sandor?" You asked him as you placed the book next to you. He shook his head. 

 "Can you read?" Sandor nodded at you. "Aye, I spent a lot of time reading when I was younger." 

 "Why did you stop?" You asked. 

 "After I was burned I didn't want to go outside. So I just read to pass the time. As I got older I didn't give a shit anymore of what people would say about my appearance." Sandor said. 

 "Did you trip when you were young? How did it happen?" You asked as you got up from the couch. When Sandor didn't say anything you were about to walk towards him and ask for forgiveness when he spoke. 

 "My brother pushed me. I was playing with one of his toys. He thought I was stealing it but I was just playing with it. He got angry and held me down as he pushed my face against the fire." You stood still at his words. You clenched your hands in rage at his brother. 

 "It took three men to take him off of me." Sandor said softly while shaking his head as he remembered. 

 You have seen ser Gregor Clegane before and understood why he was called The Mountain. He was taller than Sandor. He frightens you especially with the stories you heard about him but Sandor didn't frighten you at all.

 You walked closer to him looking up to his face as you stood in front of him.

 There it was again, Sandor thought. You looked at him with no fear. He didn't understand the look you gave him. You had a look in your eyes that he had never seen before. 

 "What do you want, my queen?" Sandor asked. He wanted to know why you were being so nice to him and why you had taken such interest in him. 

 "I want you." Sandor's eyes widened at your answer. He was about to step back when you grabbed his hand. He looked down at your hands. Your hands were so different from his. Yours were small and smooth while his were large and covered with scars along with calluses. 

 "Is this some fucking joke?!" He hissed at you pulling his hand away. 

 "Why do you think it's a joke?" You asked him. 

 "Look at me!" He told you as his gaze at you darken. 

 "I'm a dog. A nobody." You frowned at his words. 

 "I want you, Sandor." You told him firmly trying to get a hold of his hand again. 

 Sandor shook his head and turned around to unlock the door but you stopped him. You quickly leaned against the door, pushing yourself in front of him. 

 "It's not a lie." When Sandor didn't say anything you continued to speak. 

 "Do you really think Joffrey wanted you to stayed? I asked him for you. I wanted you here, I wanted some time alone with you." 

 Sandor let out a deep breath. "Why do you think I asked you to come here tonight? I have been here for almost two months and I haven't met anyone like you before. Everyone sees you as a mean person and a killer but I don't. You are so much more." 

 "You don't know what you're talking about. You have been drinking too much wine." Sandor told you, trying to find any excuse to go away.

 "Really?!" You yelled at him. 

 "You know, I have learned that a certain person has been donating to the orphanage." Sandor looked away from you. 

 "They told me it was you." You said as you grabbed his arm.

 "No knights have this before. Sandor is good but misunderstood." You repeated the words that the elderly keeper told you on your last visit to the orphanage. 

 "A few pieces of silver means nothing." Sandor mumbled to you.  

 "It means something especially to those children that have nothing." You told him.

 Sandor didn't think anything of it. It is just a small amount that he donates. Sandor wasn't rich but he had money from being Joffrey's kingsguard. He didn't tell you that it was because of you that he donated. 

 He was there when you spoke to Joffrey and to the council about the orphanage. You didn't give up your cause even when Joffrey laughed at the thought of helping them but his council sided with you after your speech of helping them and giving them resources. 

 "Those children can grow up being something bigger. They can be knights, servants, blacksmiths, farmers and maesters." Sandor watched as you smiled when the council decided something will be done. 

 "I want you. The question is, do you want me as I want you?" Sandor finally looked at you. 

 He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life a woman wanted him but you weren't just any woman, you were the queen.  

 "Do you find me pretty?" You asked Sandor as dread filled your stomach perhaps he didn't find you attractive. He quickly nodded his head. 

 "Beautiful." Sandor told you as you grabbed his hand.

 "I think of your hands at night." You told Sandor, bringing his large hand up to your face. 

 "When I'm with him, all I think about is you." Sandor moved his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. 

 "Do you want me as I want you?" You asked him again. 

 "Only a fool will say no to you, my queen." Sandor responded. 

 "Call me Y/n." You told him as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You have been wondering for so long how his hands and mouth would feel on you. 

 "Y/n." He whispered your name. You pushed against him as you looked up at him. You smiled at him, it seems unreal. He was the first person in this kingdom to say your name. 

 "Kiss me." You told him. 

 Sandor leaned down to kiss you. He kissed with caution at first pressing his lips against yours. You wanted more, you pulled him down to wrap your arms around his neck to get him closer to you. He kissed you again and you whined when he held on to your hips, his large hands gripping the robe you wore tight as you opened your mouth to him. You teased his tongue with yours, feeling giddy inside when you heard him whine in your mouth. You pulled away from his lips giving him a smile. 

 "I have been wanting to do that for a while." You whispered to him. 

 "You're crazy for wanting me." He told you, shaking his head. 

 "Aye, absolutely crazy for you." You grinned at him, making him laugh out of disbelief. 

 You looked down at your robe, you slowly untied the belt from your robe. Sandor held his breath as you took your robe off. 

 You stood in front of him naked. "Join me in bed." You told him, leaving him by the door. He looked over his shoulder as he saw you walking to the large bed. He stared at your bare ass and bare legs. He quickly followed you as he started to remove his armor. 

 Sandor has had sex before, he was no virgin. He always paid for a fuck. It was always for his pleasure only not really caring for the other but now he was feeling nervous, he wanted to make you feel good. 

 Sandor knew he was a big man with a big body. Sometimes the whores will be too anxious to be with him. He was nervous that you would reject him once you saw him naked. 

 Unknown to Sandor, you were practically salivating at the sight of his bare chest and arms. Sandor was toned and his upper body was covered with thick dark hairs. His shoulders were broad. His arms flexed when he threw his tunic over his shoulder as he walked towards the bed. 

 As he got closer to you, you touched his chest. He was warm and his chest hair was soft. You can feel the scars on his chest and stomach.  You felt him tense up when you touched his stomach. Playing with the hair of his happy trail for a moment before your hands continue going down. 

 "You're so big." You told him as you felt him through his trousers. Sandor stared down at you as you cupped his cock.

 "Come here." He said before picking you up and dropping you on the bed. He pushed his pants off while getting on top of you. His lips attacked your neck, you let out a giggle as his beard tickled you. 

 "Sandor." You cried out as he kissed down to your chest. His large hand cupped your left breast squeezing it, his thumb rubbing your tit as he suckled on the right. 

 You spread your legs wider for his frame, Sandor was huge and you loved it. He hovered over you as he fondled your breasts. He gives a big lick on your hard nipple before looking at you. 

 You brought your hand to his face, tucking a strand of his brown hair over his ear. 

 "Let me taste this cunt?." He asks you as he brings his hand to your cunt. You nodded at him as his middle finger drags up and down your slit. He hums to himself when he notices you're wet dripping on sheets of the bed. 

 "Please." You cry to him when his finger hits your clit. Sandor was quick as he got further down to face your cunt.

 You smell so good to him. His tongue licks on your slit as his nose rubs against your clit. He parts your puffy lips so he can tongue your sloppy hole. 

 "Sandor! Fuck!" You cry out as he eats you out then start to finger you while sucking your clit. 

 "Fucking tight." Sandor tells you as he looks at you. You were watching him as he played with your cunt. Two thick fingers rubbing the spongy spot inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit. No one has ever made you feel this way before.

 "He made you cum before?" You shook his head when you let out a moan when Sandor started to finger you quicker and faster. Joffrey hasn't even come close to it. He grins to himself when he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers. 

 He thinks he'll cum as well just by looking at your pretty cunt and the sound of your moans as you came on his fingers. He plays with your cunt softly knowing you're sensitive from your orgasm. He pulls his two fingers out of you, they are wet and coated with your cum, he greedily sucks them. Savoring your cum, it's better than ale, he tells himself. 

 "I'll make you cum again, Y/n. I'm gonna ruin you if I fuck you." He tells you, leaning down to kiss your mound. 

 "Ruin me." You beg him as you look at him. He gives your cunt another kiss before kissing your stomach then your chest again as he positions himself between your legs. 

 Sandor can't help himself but drag his cock against your wet slit. You moaned at the sight of his cock in his hand. His cock was thick, his head was red and fat. You watched as he softly nudged your lips apart with the head of his cock. The head of his cock gathers your wetness so he can slide into you with ease.

 He glances at you for a second looking for consent to continue. You nodded at him. You couldn't help but whine as he slid into you. You felt so full, Sandor can feel you clench around him.

 "Fuck me." You beg him. 

 Sandor moans as he slams into you. His arms shook as he gripped the edge of the bed holding himself up. His thrusts was rough, he kept staring as you threw your head back to moan. Your tits bouncing with every thrusts. 

 "Fuck." He groans out loud. Sandor felt his chest tighten at the sight of you. He can smell your cunt on his beard making him grunt like a wild man.

 He lets out a moan as he looks down between both of you. Cunt spread open on his cock, you were mewling as he pushed deeper into you. Sandor felt your hands on his shoulders, pulling him to get close to you. Sandor feels your breasts against his chest as he cages your head with his arms. 

 He calls you his pretty lady, his pretty queen as he fucks you. The slick sound of his fat cock dragging out and inside of your wet cunt can be heard.  You cried when you felt his lips on your cheek pressing wet kisses all the way down your neck as you held him. 

 "I'm going to cum, Y/n." Sandor whines to you as he was about to get up to cum outside of you but you held him closer. You wanted him to cum inside of you, deep inside of you. 

 "Cum in me. Please Sandor." You whispered to him. He let out a moan, he hides his face against your neck as he starts to fuck you harder. His harsh thrusts made you cry out as you felt him go deeper, you can feel him in your stomach. Sandor had to bite down on his bottom lip as he felt you cum around his cock. 

 Sandor grunted loudly as he cums inside of you. You welcomed him as he laid on you, enjoying the feeling of him on you, the warmth and the weight of his body. Your fingertips gliding up and down on his back. You felt him moan as he pushed himself up softly, looking down at you, he kissed him. Both of you knew at that moment, you wouldn't be able to stay away from each other. 

 Joffrey returned the following week, much to your dislike you couldn't speak to Sandor as much. You both knew the risks of someone finding out you were having an affair with him. That didn't stop both of you from giving each other looks and touches. 

 The only time you would have for each other was when occupying the library, the library was a large room in the basement of the castle. You spend your days there when you have finished with your duties. You usually were there reading while waiting for Sandor. He will come in an hour later after you. He was always looking out, making sure no one was around the library. He will get inside and quickly find you hiding in the back. Sweet and gentle kisses Sandor gave you every time, he was always gentle with you. His large hands cupped your face as he kissed you. Sandor will push you against the bookshelves and go down on his knees, he was always in need to taste you. You would moan when you feel him go under your gown, he puts a leg over his shoulder as he makes you cum on his tongue. 

 His low moans and whines can be heard when you are between his legs sucking his cock. He will groan when you start to gag on his cock while playing his balls. He can't help himself but cum inside your mouth, especially when he sees you staring up at him with doe eyes. Head bobbing up and down on his shaft, the golden crown on your head wouldn't even budge. 

 The small loveseat in the library would creak as you rode him. One of his hands held your hips while you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Sandor and you would finish wrapped around each other and when he finally allowed you to kiss his burned cheek. You didn't pry when you saw him tearing up whenever you kissed his scared cheek. You whispered to him about wanting him, loving him and thanking the new and old gods for having him in your life.

 It was a few months when a tournament on King Joffrey's name day was being held. You sat next to Joffrey as he drank his wine and shouted profanity at the players. You were starting to feel unwell. You have been so nauseous lately. You were getting worried. Some days you would wake up throwing up and the heat wasn't helping. The tournament was held on the eastern wall of the Red Keep, you ignored the smell of the ocean. You looked away as the knights fought a few feet away from you. You didn't notice Sandor staring at you as he stood near Joffrey. He saw you placing a hand over your mouth and started to shift in your seat. 

 He looked away when Joffrey called for him; it was his turn to fight. He grabbed his helmet and walked to the floor. He wasn't nervous, he has done this many times before. As he hits his opponent with his sword, he can see you in the background getting up from your seat. He let out a grunt as the opponent hit back but Sandor was much stronger and quicker. He defended himself and pushed his opponent off the ledge of the building. 

 Joffrey leaped out of his seat in joy as he ran to the ledge to see the other men on the ground. After calling Sandor a good dog, Joffrey claps. Everyone joined as Sandor took his helmet off, he looked over at you but you weren't there. You were gone along with your handmaidens. Sandor kept looking but saw his older brother's piercing black eyes staring at him with a frown. Sandor looked away and walked back to his post, next to the King. 

 It was later that Sandor found out why you were gone. You came back when the feast for Joffrey's name day started. Joffrey got up from his seat and cleared his throat. 

 "I have an announcement to make. It brings great joy to tell you. Your queen, my wife is pregnant. She has provided me with an heir!" 

 Sandor looked over at you but you just kept staring up at Joffrey with a smile; it was a fake smile. Sandor knew you were faking it since your eyes were dull. He watched as Cersei gave you a hug and congratulated you as well as her children, Myrcella and Tommen. 

 Sandor stood in the middle of the garden at night watching his surroundings. He saw a single candlelight lit from your balcony. That was a sign from you, to meet you in the gardens. 

 He heard light footsteps coming near him. He turned around when he heard it getting closer. He saw you wearing a black hooded cape. 

 "Sandor!" You cried out running to him. Sandor hugged you tight. 

 "I'm with child." You sobbed into his chest as he rubbed your back. 

 "It's alright. It's alright." He repeats gently, calming you down. 

 "The maesters said I'm about a month or so." You told him, looking up at him. 

 "Sandor, I have to tell you something." He frowned when you started to look around for a moment. 

 "When Joffrey returned to King's Landing.  He became violent." Sandor grabbed your hand.

 "In bed, he started to get angry when I wouldn't moan or move. He started to get aggressive. I was so scared." You whispered.  

 "I started putting a few drops of milk of the poppy in his drink before he would get to bed. Whenever he wanted to have sex, he couldn't perform. He would fall right to sleep before anything can happen." 

 "Has he been suspicious?" Sandor asked. You shook your head. 

 "I've been sleeping naked with him. I would take his clothes off as well." Sandor nodded, you have thought of everything. 

 "Are you mad at me?" You asked. 

 Sandor shook his head. "No but why didn't you tell me that fucking cunt was doing that?" 

 "You would have killed him." You told him. "Then they would kill you. I can't be without you. I can't raise our child without you." 

 Sandor hugged you tight, kissed your forehead and told you everything was going to be alright. He never thought he would have been a father, he honestly never wanted a child. Mostly because he never found a woman who wanted to be with him and have a family. 

 He was worried for you. He wouldn't always be there when Joffrey is with you. He hoped Joffrey wouldn't harm you since you're pregnant. 

 Pregnancy was something Sandor had never seen before first hand, he watched your body change completely and he loved it. He loved touching your swollen belly and breasts. He loved how sensitive you have gotten as well. Sandor thought you looked more beautiful. Your belly has grown so big during the months. Joffrey thought it was twins, the idea was rejected by the maesters. They told Joffrey they can only feel one baby, one very large baby. 

 You waddled everywhere you go. He wanted to carry you every time he saw you waddling around the castle. Whenever there was time to spend with you he would hold you, his large hands touching and rubbing your belly. His lips pressing against your bare shoulders. 

 "Sandor, if anything happens to me. Promise me you'll look after our child." 

 "What do you mean?" He asked you as he heard the tone of your voice change. 

 "If anything happens to me. Look after our child, teach them to be good. I know if Joffrey is in their life they would be cruel just like him" You told Sandor. You were between his legs, you back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

 "Teach them to survive in this wicked world." You looked over your shoulder at Sandor. 

 "Don't let our child be like the rest of them." You cried out to him, Sandor was quick to comfort you. 

 "They won't be like them. I promise." He told you, feeling a tightness in his chest. He wouldn't let them be like his brother or Joffrey. 

 It was morning when he heard from a servant that you started to give birth. Sandor followed Joffrey down the hallway. He froze when he heard your screams. 

 Cersei was sitting outside the door with Myrcella. The young girl was in tears as she heard you crying and screaming while giving birth. Myrcella wanted to be there for you, she had come to love you very dearly since you became queen. You had become like an older sister to the young girl. 

 "All this screaming and crying. When will it be over?" Joffrey asked, looking irritated.

 "Joffrey! She's giving birth. It can be hours, sometimes days." Cersei said. Joffrey rolled his eyes at her. 

 Sandor paled at the thought of you being in pain for so long.  

 "Ridiculous." Joffrey hiss then banged on the door. 

 Sandor walked closer to Joffrey when the door opened and the maester came out. Myrcella was the first to gasp at the sight of the maesters' bloody hands. 

 "How long?" Joffrey asked, ignoring the cries from inside or the maesters' blood stained hands. 

 Sandor looked inside the room. You were in a white gown, the gown was clung to your skin wet from your sweat. Two handmaidens were on either side of you, holding your hands as you pushed. He can hear encouraging words from the ladies. 

 Before the maesters could respond the handmaiden had called out to him to come inside. The door slammed shut before Joffrey could say anything else and your screams continued. A few minutes later your cries had stopped and a loud, strong cry was heard. 

 Leonidas Baratheon

 Sandor watched as his son slept in his arms. The three of you were in the library together, Sandor was sitting on the loveseat as he held his son. You sat right next to him. 

 "He's so long." Sandor commented as he continued to look at his son. 

 "Aye, the maesters were right. He's going to be tall." You said as you watched Sandor with a smile. He hasn't taken his eyes off of him, it was Sandor first time meeting his son. After healing and everyone coming to see Leonidas, the heir to the iron throne. You finally had a chance to see Sandor again. His sweet praises filled you as he kissed you, "I'm proud of you. A boy, a son." 

 "I wish he would have had your last name." You told Sandor making him look up at you. He shook his head and looked back at his son with a sad face. 

 "No, it's a good thing he doesn't. Being a Clegane comes with a reputation." Sandor told you. He froze when Leonidas stretched his arms and dozed off again. 

 "I wish you wouldn't think like that. I would love to have your last name." You told him looking down at your lap. 

 "Look at me." Sandor said softly. You look over at him. 

 "You really are crazy, you know that." Sandor said jokingly, making you smile. 

 "Absolutely." You told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

 Sandor would have loved that as well for you to have his last name but Sandor knew in this world, you don't always get what you want. He consider himself lucky. He felt lucky that you wanted him, to share a bed with him, to share a kiss with him. If this is all he could get from you. It's enough for him. 

 Leonidas grew up just as everyone expected him to be. You always were nervous whenever someone commented on his height or his hair. No one mentioned he wasn't blonde like his father. Everyone had said the child was an exact replica of Joffrey's father, Robert Baratheon who was tall and with dark hair. 

 Joffrey had his son's trained with the best knights when he was able to hold a sword. Joffrey had his son trained with the Clegane brothers. Leonidas asked his father to train with them and hunt with them. At a young age, Leonidas has felt at ease with the two most dangerous fighters in Westeros. It did raise concerns with the council and many people of King's Landing but as Leonidas grew, people in King's Landing saw him as a good prince unlike his father when he was younger. Leonidas was adored by the people and was always seen with his mother when visiting the orphanage. 

 Cersei was walking to her room when she passed by the training area being held in the courtyard, she stopped when she saw her grandson training. She got closer to see Leonidas, age 15 holding a sword. The teenager huffed as he blocked Gregor's heavy attack. She looked over at Sandor who watched them both attentively in the sidelines. He held a hand up to his mouth as he watched Leonidas dodging the attacks. His eyes were dark as Gregor was gaining the upper hand but Leonidas was quicker. 

 Cersei knew Leonidas couldn't be her real grandson. She always wondered where he got his looks and physique from. Cersei was about to leave when she saw movement from the second floor of the castle. She was surprised when she saw you. You were supposed to be bedridden since you were almost close to giving birth to your third child.

 Cersei can see your smile widen as you place a hand on your stomach and look down. Cersei followed your gaze and frowned when she saw you smiling at Sandor. 

 Sandor has sensed your presence from above. He smiled up at you before looking back at his son. He let out a chuckle when Leonidas had pushed the sword of Gregor's hand. 

 "Well done." Gregor said before picking up his sword from the ground with a huff. 

 Gregor looked over his shoulder to see Leonidas had run up to Sandor. Gregor watched as Sandor gave a pat on Leonidas' back while telling him he did a good job. He saw Leonidas smile widely at Sandor's words. Gregor knew Sandor's praise meant everything to the young prince. 

 Gregor knew Leonidas wasn't Joffrey's son because every time he looked at the young prince all he saw was his younger brother, Sandor. No one knew what Sandor looked like when he was a boy before his face was burned but Gregor knew. Same brown eyes and hair along with the same smile. 

 Joanna Baratheon, was the second child of Joffrey and Y/n. Every time the young princess looked at Gregor. He saw the face of his dead little sister. Joanna is still young to know about him and what kind of person Gregor truly is. While others didn't even look at Gregor straight in the eyes, Joanna would give him a big smile whenever she saw him. Sometimes would wave at him whenever he was passing. 

 Gregor often would watch Leonidas and Joanna when they spent time together in the garden, Joanna would collect flowers while Leonidas would have a book on his lap, gifted by his uncle, Tyrion. Joanna would make flower crowns just like her aunt Marcella had shown her. Gregor would watch them for a few minutes behind the pillars of the castle. His dark eyes looked between the prince and the princess. Someday Gregor's eyes would play tricks on him and their faces would morph. Leonidas's left side of his face would be burned, Gregor can still recall the smell of burnt flesh after all these years. Joanna's small face will be pale as the snow, her brown eyes would be bulging out of her skull. Her neck will be black and blue, her small hands would be clawing at her neck. He would have to shut his eyes for a moment then when he opened the faces of his siblings were gone. The happy faces of his niece and nephew were back. He would always leave when his eyes got watery and a dreaded feeling in his chest started to rise. 

 Gregor knows he's filled with evil and hate. His thirst for blood and chaos is known but he doesn't know why when he looks at the prince and princess some unknown force calms him down for a second and he's filled with something else. He doesn't know what this feeling is, it's not hate and while he figures out that feeling  he wouldn't tell a living soul that Sandor is the real father of Leonidas, Joanna and the babe growing inside of you. Gregor had already slit the throats of the people that were calling Leonidas and Joanna a bastard and their mother, you a whore in hushed whispers.

If you like to read more of His Queen, click below on the title to read.

His Queen: Nameday Chapter two ->

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 2.4k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n grapples with the precarious balance of power in her dangerous relationship with Tywin Lannister, questioning her role as a pawn or partner in his world while secretly desiring control over her own fate 

_________________________________________________

The air in King’s Landing felt different after Joffrey's death—tense and brittle, like a string pulled too tightly. Whispers filled the halls of the Red Keep, and every conversation seemed to carry a hidden meaning, a layer of subtext that only the most cunning could untangle. As I moved through the court, I felt the weight of Varys’ words pressing on me. His warning lingered in my mind: 

Tywin’s power is built on fear and manipulation. What happens when you’re no longer useful?

I had always known the danger of my relationship with Tywin. It had started as a distraction, a game to break the monotony of court life. But over time, it had turned into something far more dangerous. Our secret meetings, the stolen moments of intimacy, had slowly given way to deeper conversations. Tywin was different with me than he was with others—still cold and calculating, but there was a vulnerability that he kept hidden from the world. I had seen glimpses of it, in the quiet moments when we were alone.

But now, with the political landscape shifting beneath my feet, I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. Was I merely a tool, a means to an end? Or had I become something more? And did I even want to know the answer?

A few nights after my encounter with Varys, I was summoned to Tywin’s chambers once more. The fire crackled warmly as I entered, but there was a chill in the air that made me pause. Tywin was seated at his desk, as always, his expression unreadable. His gaze flickered over me as I approached, and for a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes—something softer, almost tender—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sit,” he said, his voice steady.

I took my seat, my heart pounding. We had shared so much over these past weeks, but tonight felt different. The political tension weighed heavily on us both, and I could sense a shift in Tywin. He was not a man prone to displays of emotion, but I had learned to read the subtle signs—the way his jaw tightened when he was agitated, the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes before he steeled himself once more.

“Have you gathered the information I requested?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” I replied, handing him a small scroll. “There are murmurs of sympathy for Tyrion among some of the lesser lords. Nothing concrete, but enough to be wary of.”

Tywin unrolled the scroll and scanned it, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Good. This will be useful.”

I hesitated, the weight of Varys’ warning heavy on my tongue. Should I tell him? Would he dismiss my concerns, or would he see it as a betrayal that I had even listened to the spymaster? I had to choose my words carefully.

“There’s something else,” I said slowly, watching Tywin’s reaction.

He raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

“Varys approached me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “He warned me that I don’t understand the game I’m playing. He said that those who stay too close to the Lannisters might be swept away when the winds of change come.”

Tywin’s expression remained unreadable, but I saw the way his fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the desk. For a long moment, he said nothing, and I could feel the tension building between us. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

“Varys is a master of manipulation. He thrives on sowing doubt and confusion. You would do well to remember that.”

I nodded, but his response did little to ease my growing unease. “And yet... what he said made me think. Am I truly playing the game, Tywin? Or am I just a pawn?”

Tywin leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You are far more than a pawn, Y/n. But the game we play is not for the faint-hearted. It is ruthless, and it requires more than loyalty. It demands cunning, patience, and an understanding of power that few possess.”

He paused, his gaze softening for the briefest moment. “You have that potential. But you must never waver.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “And what if I do?”

Tywin’s expression hardened once more. “Then you will fall, like so many before you.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but they also stirred something inside me. For so long, I had been content to play my part quietly, to remain in the background, supporting Margaery and navigating the court without drawing too much attention. But now, I realized, I needed to be more. I needed to take control of my own destiny, rather than relying on the whims of others.

“I won’t fall,” I said, my voice steady.

Tywin regarded me for a moment, as if weighing my resolve. Then, unexpectedly, he reached across the desk and took my hand in his. His touch was firm, but there was a tenderness there that I hadn’t expected.

“Good,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “Because I cannot afford to lose you.”

The admission hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it. But the way his grip lingered, the way his eyes softened as they met mine, told me that it was real. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros, had just revealed a vulnerability that I hadn’t thought him capable of.

As the days passed, I found myself thinking more and more about Tywin’s words—and his touch. There was no denying the connection between us, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was dangerous, that it would lead to something neither of us could control.

I threw myself into my tasks, gathering more information, carefully navigating the dangerous waters of the court. But Varys’ warning lingered in the back of my mind. I began to be more cautious, more strategic in my conversations. I no longer trusted blindly, not even in my dealings with Tywin. I kept some of what I learned to myself, uncertain of how much to share with him, or if I should share it at all.

And yet, despite my growing wariness, I found myself drawn deeper into Tywin’s world. Our meetings grew more frequent, our conversations more intimate. He was careful not to reveal too much of himself, but there were moments—fleeting, but undeniable—where I saw the cracks in his armor. Moments where he allowed himself to be vulnerable with me, to let his guard down.

It was in those moments that I realized something dangerous: Tywin Lannister had started to care for me in a way that went beyond mere strategy or convenience. And I, in turn, had started to care for him.

But love, in King’s Landing, was as dangerous as any weapon. And I was beginning to wonder if, in playing the game of thrones, I had already lost.

______________________________________________________________

The fire in Tywin's chambers was burning low, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as I lay beside him. We had just spent another night wrapped in each other’s arms, where the heavy burdens of court politics and the games we played were momentarily left behind. In these moments, Tywin became someone different. The hardened exterior of the man feared by kings and lords softened, and I, too, found myself unraveling—becoming something more vulnerable and honest than the sharp-tongued woman I was during the day.

His fingertips grazed my bare shoulder, absentmindedly tracing patterns on my skin. Neither of us spoke for a long time. We didn’t need to. Here, in the stillness of his bed, words were unnecessary. This was the only place where we could be ourselves, where the pressures of the court and the expectations of others couldn’t touch us.

But eventually, I broke the silence. “Do you ever think about what it would be like if we didn’t have to hide?”

Tywin’s hand stilled on my shoulder, and I turned my head to look at him. His eyes, always so guarded, flickered with something I couldn’t quite read. “In another life, perhaps,” he said quietly. “But we live in this one, and we must play the roles we’ve been given.”

I sighed softly, leaning into his touch. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is not simple,” he admitted, his voice taking on a rare softness. “But it is necessary.”

I shifted in the bed, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him more closely. “And if we didn’t have to play those roles? If we could be just... us?”

Tywin’s gaze held mine for a long moment, and I could see the conflict there. He was not a man accustomed to letting his guard down, even in private. But with me, he had begun to show glimpses of the man beneath the armor. “I would choose that life,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we don’t live in a world that allows such choices.”

I nodded, though his words sent a pang through my chest. I had known, from the beginning, that this affair was dangerous—that it was built on fragile ground. But I hadn’t expected the pull between us to grow so strong, or for the emotions to become so tangled.

“What about you?” Tywin asked, his tone shifting slightly. “You’ve played this game longer than you realize, but you’ve never told me what you truly want. Not as a Tyrell. Not as someone bound to court. What do you want, Y/n?”

I hesitated. No one had ever asked me that before. Not my family, not Margaery, not the court. And certainly not Tywin. He had always been the one with the plans, the strategies. I had fallen into his orbit, drawn by the power and intrigue he exuded. But in this moment, stripped of all pretense, I realized something.

“I want power,” I said, my voice steady. “Not the kind that comes from sitting on a throne or wearing a crown. I want control over my own destiny. I want to stop playing the part of a pawn in other people’s games.”

Tywin’s eyes darkened with interest. “You’ve always had that potential. You just need to harness it.”

“And what if I don’t want to be bound by anyone?” I asked, my voice a little sharper than I intended. “Not even by you?”

Tywin’s lips curled into a faint smile. “I would never bind you. You’re too valuable to be controlled. But you must decide where your loyalty lies. In this game, alliances are everything.”

As the trial of Tyrion Lannister unfolded, the court buzzed with anticipation. Every word spoken in that courtroom carried weight, and every movement was watched with scrutiny. Tyrion, as always, defended himself with sharp wit and intelligence, but the evidence against him was overwhelming. The court was rigged, and we all knew it.

Margaery was restless. Though Joffrey’s death had been a blessing in disguise, it left her future uncertain. Tommen, the new king, was kind but weak, a boy easily swayed by those around him. Margaery’s ambition burned brighter than ever.

“I must marry Tommen,” she told me one afternoon, her voice filled with determination as we walked through the gardens. “It’s the only way to secure our position. The Lannisters hold too much power, and we cannot afford to lose our standing.”

“You’ve always wanted to be queen,” I said with a small smile.

“Of course,” she replied, her eyes glinting. “But not just a queen. The queen. I want to rule, Y/n, not just sit beside a king. And with Tommen, I will. He’s young, malleable. Cersei won’t know what hit her.”

I watched my sister closely, admiring the way she played her cards so carefully. She had always been the more charming of the two of us, the one who could disarm anyone with a smile. But I knew her well enough to see the ambition lurking just beneath the surface.

“And what about you?” she asked, turning the conversation back to me. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Lord Tywin.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “I have my own ambitions.”

Margaery smiled knowingly. “You always were more cunning than the rest of us gave you credit for.”

I shrugged, not giving her more than that. Margaery was my sister, but even she didn’t know the full extent of my relationship with Tywin. She didn’t know how deeply I was embedded in the Lannisters’ world, or how much I had learned about playing the game in my time by Tywin’s side.

That night, in Tywin’s chambers, I decided to test my newfound resolve. As we lay together, our limbs entwined, I turned to him, my voice soft but clear.

“I want more than just to be a piece in this game, Tywin. I want to be part of the strategy. I want power, and I’m not afraid to take it.”

He turned to me, his expression unreadable in the flickering firelight. “And what do you propose?”

I smiled, a slow, deliberate smile. “You’re the most powerful man in Westeros. And I... I have access to places and people you can’t always reach. Together, we could control more than just the court. We could control everything.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, but there was a glint of intrigue there. “And what is your price?”

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “I want to stand beside you—not behind you. If we’re going to play this game, then we do it as equals.”

For a long moment, Tywin said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, his voice low and measured. “But be careful what you wish for, Y/n. Once you step into the game fully, there is no turning back.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied.

In the days that followed, I threw myself into my new role, carefully gathering information and strengthening my position within the court. Tywin and I became partners in more than just secrecy—we became a formidable force, each using our unique strengths to maneuver through the treacherous waters of King’s Landing.

But as the trial continued, and Tyrion’s fate hung in the balance, I couldn’t help but wonder: How long could I play this dangerous game before it consumed me entirely? And would Tywin, for all his power, ever let me walk away?

The answer, I knew, lay in the game itself. And in King’s Landing, the game never truly ended.

[countrymusiclover]

7 - Smells like Fire

Part 8

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Days later things had seemed to get better between Sansa and I but she didn't know the truth. I knew she had enough on her plate rather than deal with my current situation. Entering Tyrion’s chamber I shut the door behind me hearing it click and lock behind me. Looking around I found him and a swordsman named Bromm standing at his table near the window. 'Why don’t you just use that on them instead of fighting the lot on the battlefield?’

“Because I'm not certain it will work. And if it does we can only use it once to be a surprise attack.” Tyrion responded leaning his palms on the table.

I finally made my presence in the room known to the pair. “What’s the one time attack?”

“Vaella! Um, it's nothing you should worry about. You'll be in the crypts with Sansa.” Tyrion spun around trying to hide the map with his body.

“Tyrion, what is it?”

He avoided my question with a compliment. “Doesn't she look nice, Bronn. I think she does.”

“Tyrion!’

He watched my movements and held his arms out blocking me. I ran forward and he threw some punches at me holding me back for a second till I twisted his wrist and threw the lord down onto his back. “Vaella - agh!”

“Woah, I'd never think a princess would land you flat on your back.” Bronn mocked with a proud smirk.

Tyrion groaned, pushing his body up from the stone tile. “How did you manage that, princess?”

“Jaime briefly taught me defense in secret.”

Bronn's smirk grew bigger on his face. “I’m beginning to like this girl more than I like you.”

Pushing over my hair out of my face I huffed going to the map seeing a bright green jar beside it. Slowly picking up the jar in my hands concerned if it broke onto the floor. “You’re going to use Wildfire on them. That’s why you didn’t want me to see this.” Glancing over my shoulder I felt tears welling in my eyes thinking back on the many times I’d seen it used.

“I wasn’t sure how you would react if I told you what the battle strategy was. Your - your father was obsessed with it. I - I - I’m sorry for not telling you in the first place.” Tyrion nervously responded standing behind me next to Bronn.

Sitting the jar down on the table I eyed the map behind me recalling the section of tunnels I would use to sneak out for Jaime and I to spend time alone without my father or other guards realizing we had gone. “It’s okay, Tyrion. I shall wish you luck that your plan works. Wildfire is unpredictable, just like me.” Walking around him my dress swaying with my hips and I closed the door behind me.

“What do you think she meant by that?” Bronn asked, rather confused.

The youngest Lannister eyed the door where she had left, he hoped that one day he would get to know more of the Targaryen princess. “I don’t know but hopefully I can find out.”

Amber had fitted me into a black tunic shirt, red trousers and black riding boots figuring that a dress of any sort wouldn’t be suitable for sword training. Tying my hair up into a ponytail Jaime and I snuck our way through the secret tunnels. “So what does your lady in waiting think of you doing this?” Jaime asked, laying his sword on the ground and drawing out another blade for me from his belt.

“She thinks that I’ll beat you.” I teased with a smirk in his direction.

Jaime smirked a cocky look my way, handing me the handle blade. “Oh, she does. Well I’m sorry to disappoint her and say that a beginning like you can’t.”

Closing my fingers around the blade handle I sucked in a breath raising the sword beside my head before we started charging at the other beginning to fight one another. “Don’t be so cocky, Lannister.”

"Relax your dominant arm, Vae." Jaime instructs as I swing with my right arm out more even though I'm holding the sword in both hands. "If you use the same move all the time your opponent can learn which arm is the weakest."

Our swords smack against each other before gently shoves me backwards in the training yard that overlooks the water outside of the Red Keep. "Jaime?" I grunt, taking another swing at him.

He swung back circling me to make our sword press against one another for a moment. "Yes, my princess." He steps back a little sword still raised as I get back in a fighting stance.

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. I switch my sword to my left hand for a moment to knock him away. "Your form is better than the last time."

He complimented my reply. "Thanks -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine.

"Jaime, I-uh..." He started to loosen his hold on his sword when we pushed the other back but suddenly he knocked my sword from my left hand, knowing we both are dominant in our right hands. I dodge his next attack to reveal a dagger from inside my boot and block his sword coming down on me.

"Impressive, princess." He parts his lips when I push his sword down getting up from being on my knees.

"Thank you. But don’t call me that.” I aimed the dagger up, tapping the tip against his chin.

Jaime placed his sword into his holder, closing the distance between the two of us. “You know you love it.” He smirked, connecting our lips together. He was secretly right about, yet I wouldn’t ever tell him that was the case.

I had told Sansa that I wouldn’t be joining her and the other ladies in the bottom of the castle. I needed to see Tyrion’s plan go through otherwise the entire city would be taken down. Tugging a black cloak over my head I peaked my head around the corner seeing nobody was there. Running through the streets I climbed up one of the nearest ladders of a building top that allows me to see the ship ports.

Looking over the shortest column I saw hundreds or maybe thousands of ships coming towards the land. An arrow on fire flew over my head landing onto a ship that had Wildfire liquid pouring out of it and circling the ships so that when the arrow hit the water green flames grew so quickly there was no way of stopping it.

The familiar haunting fire spread before my eyes with multiple explosions shaking the ground that was near the area of water. I gasped feeling a tightness inside my chest seeing bright green before my eyes after all these years. “Burn them all - Burn them all!” Those three horrible words through my ears where I covered them, stumbling down the ladder and running wherever I could trying to escape the loud sound of men screaming and flames filling the sky above my head.

Cutting through the empty hallway I came out into another area filled with the king guards fighting Stannis’s where I had to duck underneath some of the attackers, rolling onto the ground. “Vaella! What are you doing out here?” Whipping my head around I saw Tyrion coming towards me in battle armor.

“I saw your attack.” My gaze shifted quickly seeing a Stannis soldier running straight up to us carrying a knife in his hand attempting to stab me until Tyrion stepped in the way getting cut across the face and collapsed to the dirt. “Tyrion!”

Dropping to my knees I touched his chest seeing fresh blood coming from the cut not sure what to do for him. “Get - out of - here.” He coughed before I felt someone grab my shoulder causing me to draw the blade I had hidden inside my boot. I stabbed the soldier in the chest that had cut him and drew the knife quickly frantically looking back at the lion on the ground carrying the blade in hand.

It took me an hour to get back to the castle and up to my chamber room. Slamming the chamber door behind me and pressing my body against it I sighed sliding down onto the floor trying to catch my breath until I heard footsteps come around the corner. “Clarisse, are you alright?”

“Sansa - what are you doing in here?” Lifting my head up from my knees I saw the young girl a few steps away from me.

She lowered her intertwined hands in front of her gown. “I was worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry. I can handle myself, my lady.”

Sansa eyed something laying at my feet. “Where did you get a dagger from?” The dagger she was talking about was at my feet covered in blood from when I had stabbed one of Stannis’s men and fled back here. I hoped that Tyrion would be alright.

“It doesn’t matter. You should head back to your chambers. It is getting late-“ I scrambled to my feet to the chamber pot feeling instantly sick to my stomach. Leaning over it I emptied my stomach raising my head back up I collapsed down beside the pot.

Sansa poured me some water and handed it to me. “Here, drink. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That’s not really what you wanted to ask me is it? Why don’t you just ask me what you really want to know.” I slowly downed the drink.

She parted her lips, muttering. “Who are you really? Because you know this place far better than a lady in waiting would who just came here, you snuck out tonight to watch the battle and you look like someone I read about in one of the old books.”

“Seems to me that you already have an answer so just say it.” I trailed off seeing she was a lot smarter than I had first given her credit for.

Sansa shook her head no in defiance. “I’m not sure I should.”

“Then I will.” Raising myself to my feet I curtsy to her in my handmaiden gown, my gaze holding intensely with hers. “Vaella, daughter of Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Seven hells.” Sansa for the first time in her life uttered a curse word from her mouth.