#shae

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shae & woodworker story cont'd

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Author's Notes: sorry it's been a while :')

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, injury, difficulty breathing, caretaking, unintentionally painful caretaking

---

The first thing the human does upon bringing Shae upstairs is clean him off. He turns on the water in the kitchen - just a light trickle, checking that the water is neither too hot nor too cold - and then holds him under it, using his strong but gentle hands to wash away all the dust. Whenever Shae coughs the man holds him to the water so he can drink some. It is such a relief he could cry, if only he had the strength.

"Let's take a look," the man says calmly. He sits at the kitchen table and lies Shae on a folded apron. Shae winces and tries to roll onto his side, off of his splinter-riddled back. The man notices and helps him, drawing in a sharp breath when he sees the damage. "Ouch. Alright, let me get some things..."

He disappears for a few minutes, though Shae can hear him moving around in other parts of the house. Shae sighs and presses his face against the soft, clean fabric of the apron. It smells like the human, and he is surprised to find that that is a comfort to him. He even starts to doze off a little, but is woken by the man's returning footsteps.

"Still with me?" he asks, leaning down to look at Shae's face.

Shae opens his eyes and nods weakly.

"Good. So, uh - I'm going to pull these splinters out of your back and clean the wounds. And it's going to hurt, and I'm really sorry for that, but it has to be done. Do you understand?"

Tears fill Shae's eyes. He doesn't know how he can possibly stand any more pain, but with every shift and breath he can feel the slivers of wood in his skin like little daggers, and he knows the human is right - they have to go. So Shae nods again.

"It's going to be okay."

The man takes a pair of tweezers and leans close to Shae, who shudders a little at the feeling of being loomed over. He closes his eyes and clutches the apron in his fists as the tweezers grab onto the first and largest splinter. At the slightest pull sharp pain shoots across his skin. Shae lets out a hoarse cry and instinctively tries to pull away, but the human's hand closes over his lower half, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him pinned in place. Still, it's enough to make Shae panic, and the man quickly steps away, withdrawing his hands.

He gives Shae several minutes to calm down, and feeds him water through a dropper when he starts to cough. When Shae is breathing evenly again, he picks up the tweezers. "I won't hold you down. But I need you to stay still, yeah?"

I'll try, Shae thinks. He bites down on the fabric and braces himself. He whines as the tweezers close on a splinter and once again start to pull. After a little resistance, the splinter slips free and Shae feels a trickle of fresh blood run down his skin.

"You're doing great," the human says quietly, giving his cheek a little rub. Despite his fear, the compliment bolsters him. Shae sniffles and remains still as the next splinter is removed, and the next, and the next.

By the end he is shaking like a leaf. But if he thought that was bad, it's nothing compared to when the human wets a clean cloth with something from a bottle and presses it to Shae's back. The stinging pain erupts into a burning one, a pain that darkens his vision and steals his breath. Shae lets out a feeble sound, vaguely aware of the human muttering apologies as he quickly cleans the blood from the faerie's scraped and punctured skin.

Eventually the damp cloth disappears and the human gently rubs something onto the skin, then applies a clean, dry strip of gauze and secures it with a bandage. This dulls the fierce agony considerably, allowing Shae to catch his breath and wipe the tears from his eyes. To his relief, the human steps away, giving him some time to recover.

He is close to falling asleep when Shae feels himself being gently manhandled, turned over onto his back, which has gone pleasantly numb. Still, the rest of him hurts no less than before, and he groans at the movement.

"Sorry...just treating this burn..." The man smooths a gel across the inflamed, blistered skin of Shae's belly. It hurts only a moment before a cool tingling kicks in and the pain eases. A bandage is wrapped around his middle.

The human finds every injury, however small, until the wounded little faerie is clean, bandaged, and treated with medicine. He takes sips of water and apple juice, and soon the fits of coughing come less frequently and Shae feels less like he might faint at any moment. He is far from okay, but is so, so grateful for any relief he can get.

"Um..." While the man is capping a bottle, Shae sits up and timidly waves for his attention.

Clearly surprised, the human sets the bottle down and leans close. "What is it? Do you need something."

Unable to voice it, Shae simply points at one of the man's hand's - large, strong, scarred and calloused, he feared them all this time, when they have been nothing but gentle with him. At the request, the man places his hand on the table in front of Shae, remaining as still as he can. Shae crawls into it and hugs his thumb.

"Oh..." The man hesitates, then pets Shae's hair. "You must have been really scared down there, huh?" He cradles the faerie in both hands and holds him to his chest. It's warm, so warm, the fabric of his shirt soft, the beat of his heart strong and steady when Shae presses his ear to it and sighs.

He can feel movement, the human carrying him somewhere. Shae expects it to be the box in the living room where he has been sleeping, and is surprised when instead he is carried upstairs to the man's bedroom. Shae sits up enough to look at it - simple, a little messy, but cozy.

"I think you should stay up here until you're better, in case you need anything. I hope that's ok."

Continuing to hold Shae with one hand, the man puts together a new improvised little bed of blankets in the half-open bedside table drawer. He carefully settles Shae onto it, and after the last few nights spent in the cold, dark crevice in the wall, letting his body sink into the warm, soft pile of fabric is like heaven. Already drowsy, when the man drapes a scarf over him and shuts off the light, Shae begins to drift off to sleep to the sounds of the human readying himself for bed.

The last thing he's aware of is his hair being pet and a voice whispering, "good night". For the first time in a long time, Shae smiles.

[coffeeco001]

Wymack: Listen up! Exy fans are turning attention away from us. If our personal view count goes down, we are going to start losing rep.

Foxes:

Wymack: So.. Josten, Minyard, you two are on press tonight. I am going to go home after the game and have some vodka for dinner. I don't care what you do, fix the views. I will not be watching or responsible.

Foxes:

Abby:

The Next Day:

Reporter: Exy views at an all time high after a minyard/josten interview scandal! Stay tuned for details.

Wymack, shaking: *turns TV off*

Wymack: They did what I told them... I don't want to know. I don't. Want. To know..

[motorway-south]

the most common party line regarding cersei's bad decisions in affc is "lol she made aurane waters master of ships bc he looked like rhaegar." maybe true. but look into your heart and name a single decision tyrion made in acok that wasn't motivated by wanting to trap a teenage sex worker in a relationship with him

[adorkastock]

Hi! I was wondering if you had more sharable posts with references for drawing fat people. I managed to find two posts and then a few with a single photo of a fat model. It's very difficult to find representation of fat people in general, most of my attempts on this website feeling like an hour long treasure hunt, so I'd love to share more posts of yours with those reference photos if possible!

Sure thing! Here's a collection of refs. Also on DeviantArt, Patreon, and my site gallery you can search by model name and there's a guide on DA for who is who. (The site gallery will also let you sort by body type, this is kind of a WIP). My Tumblr is usually tagged with the model names too so if you don't want to endless scroll that might help narrow it down. I also use the fat model tag usually, too. If you aren't familiar yet with FatPhotoRef.com def check that out! @fugitiverabbit runs it and it's a fantastic resource for artists. Happy drawing!

[gothinkdexign]

Some artists use their skills to create uplifting works about the human spirit. I use mine to make violent pillagers cute.

[artist-ellen]

There were also plenty of characters I did one-design for.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[coldraindropsss]

Chataya, Alayaya, Shae

[ladyofthehightower]

i will my burn flesh and from, screaming the words, it will never be yours - last woman on earth, paris paloma

full edit below the cut <3

:D

[itsbloomingwhims]

Fireworks in oasis spring

Happy New Year 🍾

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, caught in a storm, injury, broken bones, rescue (seen as capture from his POV), caretaking

Author's Notes: based on this idea!

----

Strong gusts of wind and rain toss Shae about like a leaf. It is dizzying, and happens too quickly for him to get his bearings or try grasping to hold onto something. He has no way to steer himself away from the human property he is being carried toward.

The wind whips Shae's body into the side of a shed, with a whistling sound that drowns out the sound of his startled scream when his shoulder hits solid wood hard enough to snap bone. His vision fades in and out of inky darkness while he remains pinned to the wall by the force of the wind.

After several long minutes suspended like that, the wind settles momentarily. Shae drops heavily and lands on a pile of chopped wood inside. He hits the topmost log and slides off, tumbling down the pile and racking up a collection of scrapes and splinters, and onto the muddy ground. He hurts terribly, but at least he is still. At least he can breathe. The pile provides some shield from the wind, and the mud keeps him anchored to the ground. Shae closes his eyes and gives into the pull of unconsciousness.

-

Overnight it is dry, and the strong sun in the morning helps dry up most of last night's rain. Shae still lies where he fell on the ground beside a shed. He has been drifting in and out of sleep since dawn, resisting returning to whatever awaits him. But once pain creeps into his senses he can no avoid the truth.

Groaning, the faerie tries to sit up, but can't. He tries again, and when he still meets resistance, he tries just wiggling a bit...and also can't do that. The mud beneath him has dried and hardened. He is stuck.

Panic grips his little heart. While he is not exactly eager to move his aching body, being vulnerable like this so close to humans - and their pets - can't possibly end well. And even if he isn't discovered, the weather grows colder every day, and - and how is he supposed to get food, water?!

He is pulled from his thoughts when not far away a door slams and booted footsteps approach. Shae can feel the ground vibrate as they get dangerously close. Pulse pounding, eyes shut tight, he only hopes the mud camouflages him and he will go unseen.

There are dull clunking sounds, the human removing logs from the pile. One slips and falls from the top and rolls a little, landing by Shae's arm. Shae hears the rustling of the human's clothes and his slow breaths as he crouches to pick it up. Try as he may, he can't stop shaking. It gives him away.

"What the-?"

The human recoils and nearly drops the wood. He sets it down carefully in front of the larger pile and gets onto his hands and knees, peering closer.

"Well I'll be damned," he mumbles. "I've heard of you, but never seen one in person..." He reaches out a finger and pokes one of Shae's tiny feet. It twitches and the human recoils. "You're alive!"

Not for long, Shae can't help but think miserably. Just from the darkness cast over him by the human's shadow and what little Shae can see of him with half his face pressed to the ground, this human is huge, his hands massive. In the faerie's experience, hands like that tend to squeeze and crush, whether they mean to or not.

With the fingernails of one of those hands, the human starts to chip away at the dry mud caked on and around him. Shae goes tense, fearing he will be nicked by the nail or pressed by the fingers, but other than a few brushes, they avoid him. Once enough of the dirt is loosened, he finds he can breathe more easily and even turn onto his side. If there was ever a time to flee, it would be now, but he feels tired and heavy and even the threat of capture can't get his stiff limbs to move.

"Alright...here we go..." The man lays one hand flat, palm up, and uses his other to roll Shae onto it. As Shae rolls onto the side that slammed into the shed, pain shoots down his shoulder and he feebly cries out.

"Ow, ow," he whimpers, holding his shoulder to find it at an odd angle and something jutting beneath his skin that shouldn't be, the skin itself darkly bruised. He bites his lip to stop from speaking. Tears pour down his cheeks onto the human's palm.

"You must have been caught in that storm last night. It did a number on you, huh?" The human stands and holds the faerie in his open hand, gently rolling him onto his back, relieving the pressure on his broken shoulder. Shae is battered all over, but the break is the worst of it, the pain that distracts from all other pains. "Poor little guy." With both hands, the human cups Shae's limp body and holds it to his sturdy, flannel-covered chest.

He smells like pine and mint and campfires. It's almost pleasant, but Shae has also learned that humans' pleasant features rarely prevent them from doing harm. Still...the air is cold, but the man is warm, and Shae curls against him despite his better instincts. The human's thumb strokes up and down his back with an unexpectedly light touch. He carries Shae into his house.

Inside it's warm and pleasant-smelling, too. Some of the tension in his body eases just from being in out of the cold air. Still, he's terrified. Shae hides his tearstained face in the fabric of the human's shirt, mumbling pleas for...for he doesn't even know what. Gentleness? Mercy? A quick death?

The man brings him to a dining room, the table of which is covered in various half-finished projects. He does his woodworking out in the shed, but brings his work in here to paint or build things, a bad habit that leaves his place a mess, but he doesn't get enough visitors to care much.

He lays the faerie on a folded kitchen towel, a soft surface Shae did not expect. Shae groans and holds his shoulder, finally blinking his eyes open to stare at the ceiling. His vision is blurry and his stomach churns, a mix of pain and fear and lingering dizziness after being the wind's plaything the day before.

The human moves around the table, clearing a space on which to work. His heavy steps rattle the table and Shae is reminded just how vulnerable he is right now. The man could kill him in a single blow if he chose to, though if that is the plan, why hasn't he done it already?

Shae remains still and waits. For a few minutes, the man is gone, and he tries to relax, to sleep, even. But returning footsteps startle him awake. Shae coughs a few times and groans again. The man sets some things on the table and stands over him.

"What are - are you-" he tries to ask what the man will do to him, but is trembling so hard he can barely get the words out. A massive hand reaches for him and Shae is powerless to stop it. But it does not grab or hit or press or any of the other horrible things Shae anticipates. It slips beneath him and sits him up, and remains there, providing a warm nook for Shae to sink back into when he is too weak to stay sitting up without help.

With his other hand, the human removes Shae's shirt so he can examine his injured shoulder. That hurts, no matter how careful he is. His calloused fingertips brush the bruised skin and Shae sobs and covers his face with his hand so he doesn't have to watch. The human mutters to himself, fingers closing on either side of the shoulder, and he gives the slightest squeeze.

The bone pops back into place. Shae's whole body spasm's once and pain knocks his breath away, mouth open in a silent scream behind his hand. His breath returns and he sobs raggedly.

"Shh...it's alright...the worst part is over..." The soothing words wash over him but don't stick. Shae can't stop crying, can't stop shaking, he hurts so much, he's so, so scared...

Something brushes his cheek and he gasps, eyes flying open. It is the human's thumb, the warm pad of it brushing against Shae's face, again with such surprising gentleness. The man gingerly wipes at his tears and pets his hair and Shae is stunned calm. He hiccups and rubs at his eyes.

"I need you to stay still for me, okay?"

Shae doesn't have much choice. He closes his eyes while the man dabs something cool onto his shoulder. Whatever it is, it takes effect in seconds, numbing the area. Shae gasps again, this time with relief. More tension eases from him, if involuntarily. He bites his lip, trying to remain calm as the human wraps something around his arm and shoulder. That part hurts, but once it is secured it actually feels...not good, maybe, but better. It feels like it could heal.

But why?

He is too afraid to ask. The man continues to dote on him - plucking splinters from his skin and bandaging the bleeding spots, cleaning up scrapes, cleaning the dirt from him, giving him water with a dropper. His movements are patient and skilled. He handles Shae with care. When he's done, the human lowers him back onto the towel and drapes another over him like a blanket. Shae has calmed enough to become drowsy. Even if this is some precursor to worse things, for now he gives in to fragile hope. He falls asleep to the feeling of a fingertip stroking his cheek.

[coffeeco001]

Reporter: So I've heard-

Andrew, turning to Neil: They can HEAR us? Josten did you know the reporter can hear?

Neil, wide eyed in shock: What the hell?

Reporter: Mr. Minyard the last time we spoke you said-

Andrew, taking a step forward to look at the reporters face: We've MET? I know you? That's not possible. I've never seen you before.

Neil: He never forgets a face.

Reporter: You told me that you and Neil-

Andrew: You know his name???

Neil, whipping out his phone: I'm calling the piggys, we are being stalked.

Reporter, almost crying: Can we just do the interview, we are live right now..

Andrew: An interview? Live? You want to put me on TV? You sure about that? What are you, a reporter or something?

Reporter, motioning to cut the take: I need to go lie down.

[georgescitadel]

Fan: Which character would you bring to life for one day?

George: If it's me hanging with them, maybe Dany. She's really cute. That might be fun... Actually, I could just go straight to Shae. I don't know... Tyrion, if I wanted to go drinking. If I was riding through a dangerous area and wanted protection, the Hound or Jaime.

- George R.R. Martin, Slovenia (2011)

Fan: If you could have dinner with 3 of your characters from the series, which characters would you choose and why?

George: Certainly Tyrion, because he would be witty and charming. I think he'd be a really good choice to start with. Maybe Maester Aemon, because he's wise and knows all these things about history. The third one, I don't know. I could say Arya, but she might misbehave and hit me with some food. Maybe Dany, because, you know, she's really hot. Especially if she wore that Qartheen gown.

- George R.R. Martin, TIFF In Conversation With George R.R. Martin (2012)

[the-key-five]

Tyrion's Seasons of Love ❀ Tyrion and Arya

In the original outline, Tyrion was supposed to fall in love with Arya. Obviously that didn't end up happening in the published series. However, Arya does have links to each of Tyrion's love interests. Arya's sister Sansa is forced to marry Tyrion in A Storm of Swords. She is close with the Sailor's Wife (theorized to be Tyrion's first wife Tysha) when she is Cat of the Canals. And in the Mercy chapter of The Winds of Winter Arya plays a version of Shae in The Bloody Hand.

[adorkastock]

omnomnom

[asa-do-your-thing]

my entry for Fan Frankentober by @fandomeventcenter <3

from left to right:

Sansa Stark, Elia Martell, Arya Stark, Myranda Royce, Olenna Tyrell, Cersei Lannister, Ygritte, Margaery Tyrell, Jeyne Poole

Val, Pretty Pia, Obara Sand, Tyene Sand, Myrcella Baratheon, Shae, Gilly, Ros, Lysa Tully, Ashara Dayne, Melisandre

Catelyn Tully, Nymeria Sand, Missandei, Daenerys Targaryen, Mya Stone, Roslin Frey, Shireen Baratheon, Asha Greyjoy, 'Fat' Walda Frey, Dacey Mormont

Disclaimer: I know I must've still forgotten so many women! I tried to fit everyone. <3

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – BLACKWATER.

you're coming back.                                 and it's the end of  the world. we're starting over.                                     and i

love you, darling.

"Remember wait until the ships-"

"The ships are in the bay."

"They must be far enough in so they won't be-"

"I know what 'in' means. D'you know how to use that?"

"I chopped wood once. No, I watched my brother chopping wood."

"I saw you kill a man with a shield. You'll be unstoppable with an axe."

Tyrion shot forward to grab Bronn's hand in his, pulling the man towards him ever so slightly. All at once, Lyarra felt as if she were intruding — quickly moving to lean back behind one of the columns of the hall to look for Sansa. It was expected of Sansa to see her husband, the king, off to war — and seeing as Lyarra had no intention of leaving her niece alone for the remainder of the night, there they were.

"Don't get killed," Bronn remarked, shaking his head as he spat the words out. For all his lackluster attitude accomplished, it was evident that he cared for Tyrion. He turned to Lyarra then, reaching out with his other hand to clasp her arm. "You either, for that matter."

"Nor you, my friend." Tyrion rushed, his stare still lingering on their clasped hands. Lyarra held her grin at the sight, forcing herself to think of the events to come. This was no moment to find joy in the repressed nature of the two friends she had left.

"Oh, are we friends now?"

"Of course we are. Just because I pay you for your services doesn't diminish our friendship."

"Enhances it, really."

"Oh, enhances. Fancy word for a sellsword." Lyarra retorted, holding in another snort at the unimpressed look Bronn shot her.

"Been spending time with fancy folks."

Bronn stepped away then, bowing as Sansa moved into the center of the room — with Shae and Aianna at her side. Aianna had yet to say a word the entire evening, though that hadn't been altogether surprising. She had a duty. Lyarra knew that well enough. Yet the thought that she'd expected differently of the girl even still, never once failed her. Lyarra moved to her niece's side, with Tyrion quick to follow.

"Lady Sansa, Aianna, and .. Sheila?" He dragged the name out as if he couldn't properly recall the woman's face. Shae almost snarled, biting her true new name out.

"Shae," He corrected at once. "Surely my sister has asked you to join the other highborn ladies," He remarked, this time directing his point towards Lyarra as well. She only shrugged as her niece began to explain.

"She has, my lord, but King Joffrey sent for me to see him off. Aunt Lyarra felt it best to remain at my side."

"Sansa!" The boy in question called, beckoning the girl over to him. Sandor stomped after him, pausing in the slightest as he took in the sight of her. He expected her to be in Maegor's Holdfast with the rest of the highborn ladies, just as Tyrion had, no doubt.

"Always been a great romantic, my nephew."

"I will pray for your safe return, my lord. Just as I pray for the king's." Sansa claimed, before turning on her heel to march towards the king. Lyarra watched the interaction from a distance, assuming that the king would likely not take her presence welcomingly. Sandor never once pulled his gaze from her, despite her forcing herself to look away.

Tyrion winced at Sansa's words, as Lyarra only shrugged. Sansa had no reason to trust Tyrion. Not after all his family had done. Despite her growing care for the man, she couldn't expect her niece to feel differently about him. She could faintly make out the hushed whispers of Shae and Tyrion sharing words between themselves before he turned defiantly back to Lyarra. She halted in her step for a moment, thinking over her words. Tyrion was a beacon of light in the keep, in her eyes. She had Ros, at times. Aianna, at others. But Tyrion was something different. He was always there.

"Don't die out there, Lannister. I'll bring you back, and kill you myself." Tyrion tilted his head as if he believed that she was being entirely sincere, nodding quickly in agreement.

"If all goes well, I'll rent us out an entire brothel. All night. Drinks on me."

Lyarra scoffed, shoving the man away as he made his way out of the hall — Podrick hot on his heels. She stepped to Shae's side once more, linking her arm with the girl in the hope that the motion would be comforting. Aianna stepped forward as well, resting her hand on Lyarra's shoulder. After another moment, Sansa stepped back to the group — Joffrey and his men stomping out of the hall. Sandor shot Lyarra one last look, one filled with too many emotions to properly decipher, as he moved past her.

"Some of those boys will never come back," Shae whispered.

"Joffrey will." Sansa argued. "The worst ones always live."

"I don't know why she wants me here," Sansa stated as Cersei flitted into the room. They were surrounded by highborn women, children, and servants alike. At the moment, they were perched on a set of bunk-beds. Shae and Aianna sat on one side, while Sansa and Lyarra sat on the other. "She's always saying how stupid I am. She hates me."

"Maybe she hates you less than she hates everyone else," Shae retorted, sitting forward to make sure the words carried their desired distance in the hushed room.

"I doubt it."

"Maybe she's jealous of you?" Lyarra chimed in.

"Why would she be jealous?"

Cersei chose that moment to call the girl over, beckoning her to her side with one word alone. Lyarra sat back, once again taking note of the fact that she was not invited. She may be a woman of higher standing, a lady of Winterfell — but she held no birthright, not really. Winterfell would only go to her if each of her nieces and nephews fell, alongside her sister-by-law — and Benjen, for that matter. She was the last in line. The least important figure they had left.

After a while, Lyarra wasn't certain how much time had passed. The queen had gone through at least three cups of wine already, even calling for Sansa to be poured one as well — though the girl hadn't so much as taken a sip of it. Lyarra sat mostly silent, curled into her seat while Aianna and Shae maintained an almost-decent conversation. Shae evidently held a grudge against the girl for running to the queen before, and yet she seemed almost civil throughout their talk.

Eventually, Sansa was able to peel herself away from the queen's side. At once, she collected a group of girls from the room to sit together in prayer. Ser Dontos sat in the corner, juggling as a few of the girls watch. Lyarra took note of the way that Cersei watched Sansa, something akin to interest in her stare.

"Sansa, come here, little dove," The queen called, at once breaking the girl from her prayer. Lyarra sighed, leaning back as Shae continued to watch their conversation from a distance. Aianna hadn't said a word in what felt like hours, instead staring down at the ground almost solemnly. Lyarra, thinking only of the battle transpiring outside, reached forward to take Aianna's hands into hers in comfort.

"Lyarra, you as well. Come here," Cersei called after her. Lyarra paused for a moment, before taking a seat on the pillow across from her niece. The queen had been coaxing Sansa into another glass of wine, nudging for Lyarra to be poured one as well.

"I should have been born a man," Cersei claimed as Sansa downed another glass. "I'd rather face a thousand swords than be shut up inside with this flock of frightened hens."

"They are your guests under your protection," Sansa argued, seemingly in disbelief at the queen's callousness.

"You did, admittedly, ask them here," Lyarra chimed in. Cersei scoffed, leaning back to take another swig of wine.

"It was expected of me, as it will be of you if you ever become Joffrey's queen. Despite how much the two of you try to prevent it,"

"If my wretched brother should somehow prevail," The queen continued, meeting Lyarra's stare with an almost amused glance. She knew something, Lyarra surmised. She had some sort of plan. "these hens will return to their cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits."

"And if the city should fall?" Sansa inquired. Cersei paused, her grin contorting itself into a scowl as the words hit her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? The both of you." After a moment of silence stretched through the room, she continued, "The Red Keep should hold for a time, long enough for me to go to the walls and yield to Lord Stannis in person. If it were anyone else outside those gates, I might have hoped for a private audience, but this is Stannis Baratheon. I'd have a better chance of seducing his whores."

The pair went silent at that, Sansa seemingly taking the words in with wonder — as Lyarra continued to think of what would happen if Stannis beat Tyrion's forces back.

"Have I shocked you, little dove? Ask your aunt, tears aren't a woman's only weapon. The best one's between your legs. Learn how to use it."

Lyarra wasn't certain how long the queen continued to ramble on, telling Sansa of whatever it appeared she could think of. Whether it was the wine reaching her system, or the ongoing battle, the queen seemed almost loose at the moment.

"Jaime was taught to fight with sword and lance and mace, and I was taught to smile and sing and please," Cersei stated, and at once understanding flooded through Lyarra. She longed to be taught to fight as her brothers were. To live the life of a man. Only, she was raised to be a lady. She didn't have the freedom of a choice. "He was heir to Casterly Rock, and I was sold to some stranger like a horse to be ridden whenever he desired."

"You were Robert's queen," Sansa argued.

"And you will be Joffrey's. Enjoy."

At once, one of the Lannister guards swung open the doors — dashing forward as he grunted. Lancel, she recalled. Lancel Lannister.

"What news?"

"The Imp has set the river on fire," He started. Lyarra paused as she took in the thought. He'd used the wildfire, then. Pride threatened to bleed through her, as another thought of horror reached up to meet it. Fire. Sandor wouldn't take the flames well, no doubt. Worry tugged on her heart for a minute longer, before the boy continued, "Hundreds of ships are burning, maybe more. Stannis' fleet destroyed, but... But his troops have landed outside the city walls."

"Where is Joffrey?"

"On the battlements with Lord Tyrion,"

"Bring him back inside at once,"

Lancel argued for only a moment longer before begrudgingly agreeing, stomping out of the room with haste. Lyarra longed for nothing more than the king to die in battle, to be slain by one of Stannis' nameless warriors. And yet, she understood the woman before her then better than she ever had. Cersei knew what her son was. In truth, she likely couldn't stomach the sight of the boy. But he was her son. There is nothing in the world that one loves more than their children. Lyarra would give her life for Jon, for Reyne. Even now, she would stand in front of a blade for Sansa if she needed it.

"The battle is lost, Your Grace. Stannis' troops are at the gates. When the gold cloaks saw the king leaving, they lost all heart."

"Where is my son?"

"I want to escort him back to the battle."

"Why do I care what you want?"

Cersei pushed Lancel to the ground, taking her son Tommen in hand as she marched out of the door. Sansa jumped to placate the women in the room as quickly as she could manage, coaxing them all into humming a hymn. Aianna dashed to Lyarra's side, clasping her hand in hers.

"You must go. Both of you. Run to your chambers and bar your door," Shae whispered, pushing them in the direction of the door. She nodded to Aianna, signaling the girl to pull it open. "Stannis won't hurt you."

"Come with us,"

"I need to say goodbye to someone,"

Shae all but pushed them out of the door. Lyarra clutched onto Sansa's hand as she dragged her through the hall. Once they'd reached Sansa's quarters, she nudged the girl in. She thought then of the dagger Tyrion had given her just nights before. If she had to protect herself and Sansa, she'd need it more than ever. Lyarra patted her sides for a second, searching for the blade. She had it on her just before they'd gone up to Maegor's Holdfast. It had to be in her quarters, then. Just as Lyarra turned, Sansa reached for her wrist.

"You're not going to stay with me?"

"I need to grab something. Bolt the door. I'll knock twice, so you know it's me,"

Lyarra turned on her heel as the door was shut, Aianna quick to follow. Just as they'd reached her quarters, Aianna called out for her.

"Lyarra," She called, dropping any hint of formalities. She halted in her tracks, turning to the girl in concern. Aianna was shaking with terror, each limb trembling. Lyarra shot to her side, grasping her hands in hers as she attempted to meet her gaze.

"It's alright, Aianna. I'll keep us safe. Stannis' men won't hurt you,"

Tears began to cascade down Aianna's cheeks, building as each second passed. Lyarra shot forward, pulling the girl against her as she attempted to soothe her. Her heart all but shattered as she continued to bawl in her arms, pulling Lyarra closer to her. Despite what she'd done, the girl was still a sister to her. She needed her family, now more than ever. As Lyarra pulled back, a sharp pain speared her through the gut, twisting as nausea bubbled through her to meet it.

Blood began to pour down her, pooling at her core. She reared back, meeting Aianna head-on, as the girl only fell into another pit of sobs. She was overcome with the need to comfort her, even now. To keep her safe. As she should have with Lyanna. Aianna wrenched the knife from her gut, forcing a cry from Lyarra's lips. She fell to the ground, Aianna sliding down to meet her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. She told me to. I didn't want to. Please, please believe me. I'm so sorry, Lyarra. I'm so sorry," Aianna reached to grab Lyarra's face, coating her cheeks with blood. Lyarra rasped, piercing cold flooding through her as she grasped onto her remaining force of life. At once, Aianna pulled back, and just before Lyarra could do so much as blink — shoved her dagger into her own gut, collapsing at her side.

A sharp cry left Lyarra's lips, as she dragged herself to the girl's body. Aianna was choking, blood dribbling from her lips as she convulsed. Ragged breaths fell from Lyarra's lips as she attempted to cover the girl's wounds. However, it was no use. The light fled from Aianna's eyes just as quickly, as Lyarra let out a harsh roar.

Within a moment, her own door swang open, a large figure collapsing at her feet. She recognized Sandor's touch at once, though her eyes drooped ever so slightly. Her vision was fading, the blood on her hands becoming thicker with every growing moment. For once, she found nothing but fear in Sandor's gaze. She paused, thinking of the battle itself. He shouldn't be here, she thought blearily. He left the battlefield. They'll be looking for him. She swatted him away once, before ultimately leaning into the warmth of his touch — as he raised her head to face him.

She could faintly make out the fact that he was speaking to her, though his voice was muffled. The sound, hardly recognizable.

"Sandor, Sandor," She called, reaching out to grasp onto his chainmail. "You need to go. They'll find you. You can't stay here,"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think I'd just leave you here?"

"You have to. Take Sansa. She's in her chambers. Knock twice. Take her, and go. I'm just going to slow you down. I'm not.." She trailed off, choking on the thick blood that now coated her throat. Sandor let out a sound almost reminsicent of a whine, as he rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs in desperation. "Sandor, please. Please, just take her and go."

Before she could properly realize it, his lips were on hers — claiming them as his own. The last, and only, man she had kissed before was Gogni. Where Gogni was gentle and soft, Sandor was desperate and harsh. Her blood soaked hands pulled him closer, tugging on the strands of his hair that she could capture.

"I was waiting for you," He growled as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, "like a fucking idiot. I sat there, waiting for you. I've got a horse, we could've left. Could've taken the little bird. I'd keep you both safe,"

"You can keep her safe. For me, for both of us. But you need to go. Now."

Lyarra wasn't certain how long the two laid there, wrapped up in one another, Sandor pressing his temple against hers. He cursed as he stepped to his feet, scowling down at her. Lyarra did her best to force a smile to her lips, waving the man off. In truth, she had never been more afraid than she was in that very moment. She was afraid of facing Lyanna, of seeing Eddard again — knowing she'd failed to protect Sansa as long as she could. She was afraid of seeing Gogni after all this time. Of leaving Petyr on his own, knowing what he could become. Of leaving Arya alone, never certain of where she ended up. Of not seeing her children grow, not knowing if Jon would make it on the wall — how Reyne fared in Winterfell. Of finding love, only to lose it just as quickly.

"Sandor?" She called, just as he began to retreat. He paused, turning after a harsh sigh. His eyes were wide, his cheeks marred not only by his burns — but stray tears. Even in this light he was beautiful, she thought.

"Promise me that you'll protect her."

"I promise, Little Wolf."

Lyarra hacked out another puddle of blood, leaning into her hands as a wail fell from her lips. By the time she was able to look up again, Sandor was gone. She leaned into Aianna's side, gazing into the lifeless orbs. She only hoped, as her eyes fell shut, that Stannis' men would find her before the Lannisters did. Before Tyrion could find her body. If she was to die tonight, at the very least — the reign of the Lannisters could as well.

So. Um. Hey guys. Bit awkward of a moment I guess. Maybe. So. Sandor and Lyarra finally kissed! Yay! Go team! Um. Admittedly Sandor now believes Lyarra is dead. So, that's a little .. awko taco.

Then.. the whole Aianna bit. This was admittedly my plan from the beginning. I tried to make the fact that Aianna was progressively pulling away a bit obvious? But. That's life. Is she really dead? Who knows. Well. I know. I do in fact know. I guess you'll have to stick around to find out ... Anyways. I know this chapter moved a bit fast, and some of it .. kinda lacked logic. But that's the point. There's a lot going on. I hope you enjoyed (shakes). And as always, feel free to leave a comment below!

Thank you,

Zevran.