#taryn baratheon

[houseofamidala]

LIONHEART / robb stark by @heartofmortis

TARYN BARATHEON AND ROBB STARK the queen and the king in the north

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter One

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

warnings: none!

note: revamping this fic on here because i love my oc too much 🫶 ik oc fics aren't as popular on tumblr, but they're my faves

word count: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

Taryn Baratheon was four when blood first touched her innocent hands. Her skin was no longer pure, neither was her heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, Taryn learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.

The creatures always circled King’s Landing as vultures searched for the dead. “The little birds are always looking for trouble,” Cersei Lannister warned as they walked through the gardens. Taryn nestled close in her mother’s arms. “Watch your step or they’ll be waiting in your shadows all your life.”

When she was set down, her feet steady on the ground, Taryn raced on ahead. Her long skirts clung to her little legs, blonde curls bouncing behind her. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — Taryn skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flower heads and ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. She wished it could only be her and mother in the gardens forever. Taryn slipped out of her mother’s line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into her mouth, licking sweet juice from her fingers to keep her dainty snack a secret.

The Princess came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in her haste, when she found her path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. Taryn took the bird in her hands, scarlet smeared across her fingers. She did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.

Taryn brought the bird against her chest, cupped with both of her delicate hands, and ran back across the path she had come down. The princess took the bird to her mother, who was quick to scold her child for touching a dying animal. “But can’t the maesters help?” Taryn’s eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Taryn’s mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King’s Landing.)

Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter’s naivety. “The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird.” They always look for trouble.

Taryn huffed. She did not believe her mother’s response to be an acceptable excuse. “Why?”

The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird’s frail body from Taryn’s hands, which became a struggle with the little girl’s reluctance. “We’re all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion.”

“But it will die!”

“All things do, eventually.” Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind them. “Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here.”

Taryn walked with heavy steps back to the Red Keep. She muttered about the unfairness of the bird’s fate — it was a baby, why could it not be saved? If all things die, why is life not more precious? Any day could be the last.

“Where are you scurrying away to, little doe?” Taryn’s father’s voice was a formidable boom when he caught her in the corridors, flanked by handmaidens, wandering towards her rooms.

Taryn showed her father the specs of blood across her dress. “Mother says I have to clean up.”

Robert Baratheon laughed. He shooed away Taryn’s company and picked his daughter up with one strong arm. “A little blood never hurts anyone. You’re a Baratheon, my stormbird. You’ll get used to blood in no time”

The King took his daughter to the throne room. Taryn liked it here: the tall ceiling, the ivy-strewn pillars, the warm glow of sunlight, and the Iron Throne. Robert took his seat and rested Taryn on his knee. The princess stared around the room, she had never seen it from this angle before. Between the tower of swords from the first Dragon King, still sharp enough to tear her in half, it felt powerful to sit here. Taryn could imagine hundreds of people knelt before them and understood why men spent their lives chasing power. She felt like a true Princess.)

“This would have been your’s one day if your mother had not had that damn brother of yours.”

Her father’s voice was rough with bitterness. His words pulled Taryn out of her daydream. Only a year younger than her, Taryn’s brother, Joffrey, was a terror. Their mother doted on her children equally, but Taryn knew their father had his favourite. Taryn was secretly happy with it — the less time she spent with Joffrey pulling heads off flowers and worse, vicious things, the better.

“One day,” Taryn’s King father continued, “you will marry a great lord, a good lord. But you should always have a place here, my daughter.”

Taryn walked with heavy steps. Her gaze flickered sideways to the Silent Sisters who stalked around the body of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. The former Hand of the King. A cold shiver tensed Taryn’s body as she walked. The air had felt heavy since Lord Arryn passed. Mere days ago, Taryn and Lord Arryn had talked, as they often had. It was no life-changing conversation, they spoke of the weather and how Taryn felt about turning six-and-ten and reaching marriageable age, and what were the last books she read. But it was the last time they spoke before the Hand took ill, wracked by a horrid fever — Taryn’s mother had the maesters flurry around the Princess for two days to make sure she had not been infected. All things die eventually.

Taryn’s path led her to her mother and uncle — the golden, twin lions — who were watching the Silent Sisters and Jon Arryn, watching like vultures after their prey. Jaime Lannister’s head raised as his niece approached, his smile to her made brighter by the gleam of his Kingsguard uniform.

“How was the Small Council meeting?” Jaime asked, one hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Dull as usual,” Taryn admitted. She attended most meetings of the Small Council as her father’s cupbearer, even though Robert Baratheon seldom attended the meetings and Taryn spent more time listening into the Council’s discussions about the state of the realm than she did offering refreshments. It was her grandfather, Tywin’s suggestion to her father that Taryn attend the meetings. She was just a girl, but she was a Princess too. She could not influence what was being said, but she could learn. “They were predicting who is going to be the next Hand of the King.”

Cersei turned from the funeral preparations to look at her daughter. “Who do you think should be Hand?”

“I don’t think my opinion matters. Father told me he is going to ask Lord Stark.”

Her mother chuckled. “A Stark this far south for that long? Northerners never fare well here.”

Taryn caught Jaime looking at the centre of the throne room. “Eddard Stark is an honourable man, from what I’ve heard,” she said. “He might do a good job.”

“Did your father mention who is following him when he travels to meet with Ned Stark?”

Taryn gave a short laugh. “All of us.”

The streets of King’s Landing were bustling with smallfolk. With her blonde hair braided back and a thin cloak over her sky-coloured dress, Taryn ran like a river down the cobbled pathways. Accompanied only by two of her ladies in waiting, Taryn made frequent quiet visits into the capital city. She saw no reason to hold herself higher than the smallfolk, they were all the same and they had far more need for gold than she did.

Taryn brought herself to one of the orphanages in the city. The matron on the door graciously bade the princess enter. There were too many homes for children in King’s Landing — children who had lost their families to sickness, drowning, starvation, or terrible accidents. In the few official visits her family took through the city, Taryn saw too many people left to fend for themselves. It was the least she could to try and help the children into good positions. They deserved good lives, these children were the future. (So was Taryn.) She was a ray of light, a hope for the future. A sign that the smallfolk were not forgotten by all the lords and ladies in the land. Taryn’s heart did not crave power and a throne, despite the world she was raised in, instead she laid it with the people. Those trodden into the dirt by people like Taryn — she liked being the exception, though she wished it could stand for more.

With her pockets of gold and her mind sharp, Taryn helped the people. Donated to help keep the houses running, to keep children safe, and she taught them to read and helped them draw, and showed them that someone cared for them. But this visit was filled with less joy than usual. If Taryn and her family were to travel North to the seat of House Stark and the Warden of the North, she did not know if or when she would return home from Winterfell. (She tried to fight the thoughts of leaving people behind, she knew this journey would be good for her.) Taryn already had help lined up to continue her efforts in the city. It would take weeks to travel to Winterfell, she would be gone for months at least. And she would miss the children — the bright-eyed skinny figures who held her hands and reminded Taryn of her youngest siblings, Myrcella and Tommen.

The children were far less than thrilled when she explained her journey to them. Worse, so many of them wanted to join her, to flee the city and take refuge in the cold north — Taryn had to tell them they could not come with her.

A brunette girl stuck out her bottom lip. “Why would you go when it is pretty and summer here?”

Taryn scooped the girl onto her lap. “I haven’t much choice, I’m afraid. I’m supposed to marry the future Lord of Winterfell.” (It was all that encouraged her to go — she had met Robb Stark when they were younger than most of the children here. Taryn had not seen him in years now, but he was a kind boy and she missed him.)

“But the North is scary!” one child whispered to his friends when Taryn objected to them coming with her. “It’s all big and cold. Man-wolves live there.”

“Why can’t he move south and live here?”

“All their ghosts freeze in the snow and come back as dead ice creatures!”

Children shrieked with fright and intrigue. “Don’t leave, Princess Taryn!”

Taryn giggled. “I have visited the North, it is not so bad. It is terribly cold, but there is wonder in it. I promise, no winter monsters will harm any of us. Winter is scary, but it does not last forever. We do not even know if it will arrive soon.”

“But the Long Night lasted a generation!” another boy cried.

“Oh, but that is an old story. Who has been telling you such tales?” Taryn scooped shivering children into her arms, their worries fading from their faces. “None of you have anything to fear.”

[heartofmortis]

robb stark i'm stealing your wife

Let me look at you with my doe eyes, I want to kiss your eyes with mine and get lost in our gazes.

[sanctionedpsyker]

THE DANCE OF DRAGONS was a civil war during targaryen rule of the seven kingdoms. a war of succession between aegon ii and his half-sister rhaenyra over their father viserys i’s throne, the war began in 132 AC. it saw the deaths of both rival monarchs, and the crowning of rhaenyra's son, aegon iii.

“all our fine thoughts, all our endeavors are like as nothing. we march now toward our annihilation.” - ser criston cole.

as it was during the events of house of the dragon.

HOUSE TARGARYEN

PRINCE VALARR TARGARYEN ; firstborn son and only surviving child of prince ayrmidon targaryen and his wife, lady emmaline rowan. cousin to king viserys i and prince daemon targaryen. dragonrider whose mount is the dragon aevar.

MYRA SNOW ; bastard daughter of lord kian warrin and drísa, a serving girl. handmaiden to queen aemma arryn. lover of prince valarr targaryen. murdered in king’s landing on the orders of her sister in 126AC.

RHAELYS WATERS, later lord rhaelys azantys ; eldest bastard son and first child of prince valarr targaryen and his lover, myra snow. former lover of queen rhaenyra i and true father of jacaerys, lucerys, and joffrey. husband of nesaerah ostaar. dragonrider whose mount is the dragon saagael.

VISAERA WATERS, later visaera azantys ; eldest bastard daughter and second child of prince valarr and his lover, myra snow. widow of the late ser harwin strong and mother of mereya strong, his only child. wife of lord ayrmidon vellaerys and lady of broken shield. dragonrider whose mount is the dragon bakkalon.

AERION WATERS, later aerion azantys ; second bastard son and youngest child of prince valarr targaryen with his lover, myra snow. lover of rosyn mallister. dragonrider whose mount is the she-dragon morgul.

LADY ALYSE WARRIN ; only trueborn daughter and youngest child of lord kian warrin with his wife, lady amarantha frey. wife of prince valarr targaryen.

NAERYS TARGARYEN ; firstborn daughter and eldest child of prince valarr targaryen with his wife, lady alyse warrin. twin to maekar targaryen. wife of lord lysario drennyr, mother of selaerys and aenar. escaped to dorne prior to the dance.

MAEKAR TARGARYEN ; firstborn son and second child of prince valarr targaryen with his wife, lady alyse warrin. twin to naerys targaryen. executed at the beginning of the dance.

ALAERYA TARGARYEN ; secondborn daughter and third child of prince valarr targaryen and his wife, lady alyse warrin. reluctant lover of king aegon i.

MATARION TARGARYEN ; secondborn son and fourth child of prince valarr targaryen and his wife, lady alyse warrin.

VAEGON TARGARYEN ; thirdborn son and fifth child of prince valarr targaryen and his wife, lady alyse warrin.

RHAEGAR TARGARYEN ; fourthborn son and sixth child of prince valarr targaryen and his wife, lady alyse warrin. died of a fever at a year old.

THREE STILLBORN CHILDREN ; fathered by maester erac. 123AC, 124AC, 126AC.

HOUSEHOLD

TARYNE FOSSOWAY OF CIDER HALL ; handmaiden and lover of lady alaerya targaryen.

MAESTER ERAC ; nephew of lord otto hightower. personal maester and lover to lady alyse warrin.

DANNYA STORM ; bastard daughter of lord borros baratheon. prostitute at sylvi’s brother. lover of prince aemond targaryen.

EXTENDED FAMILY

LORD ELLION ROYCE ; firstborn son and eldest child of the late ser harald royce and his wife, lady meya tully. husband of lady visaera waters.

LORD LYSARIO DRENNYR ; firstborn son and eldest child of the late lord drennyr. lord of ghost hill. husband of lady naerys targaryen.

NESAERAH OSTAAR ; the daughter of the sealord of braavos. wife of rhaelys waters.

SPOOL OF GREEN

{ LADY ALYSE WARRIN } ; imprisoned by rhaelys waters after the dance. starved to death.

{ ALAERYA TARGARYEN } ; sunk into a deep depression and flung herself from the red keep.

{ VAEGON TARGARYEN } ; died in battle with matarion targaryen in the riverlands.

{ TARYNE FOSSOWAY OF CIDER HALL } ; died in the fall of king’s landing.

{ MAESTER ERAC } ; executed by visaera waters and her dragon for treason after the fall of king’s landing.

DANNYA STORM ; survived the dance by fleeing to essos. rumoured to have given birth to prince aemond’s bastard son.

SPOOL OF BLACK

{ PRINCE VALARR TARGARYEN } ; died in battle with prince aemond targaryen during the butcher’s ball.

RHAELYS WATERS ; survived the dance and founded house azantys of deadhold.

VISAERA WATERS ; survived the dance and remained lady of runestone. mother of lord aenys royce.

AERION WATERS ; survived the dance and married lady rosyn mallister.

{ MATARION TARGARYEN } ; died in battle with vaegon targaryen in the riverlands.

NESAERAH OSTAAR ; survived the dance and became lady of deadhold.

MEREYA STRONG ; survived the dance and married lord cregan stark. mother of jonnel stark, edric stark, lyanna stark, barthogan stark, and lord brandon stark.

LORD ELLION ROYCE ; survived the dance and remained lord of runestone.

[heartofmortis]

sighs and opens the doc for my jon fic(s)

Jon would be great father. Give that man a loving wife, he deserves that 😫

LET IT BE ME!! LET IT BE MEE!!

[pelaprincesa]

Conto I

Aqui está o primeiro conto! Conto sobre o Borys e Sieglinde na época em que o Baratheon estava como protegido em Dorne. Conto escrito por @holtzm-ann .

Borys Baratheon sentia-se como um peixe fora d’água.

Segurando a haste longa da arma que suas mãos estranhavam seu humor não era dos melhores, estando numa posição de inexperiência em combate, que era uma das poucas coisas das quais podia orgulhar-se em ser talentoso. Estacado no meio do pátio do Palácio Antigo, mantinha os olhos fixos em seu oponente, que portava a própria lança com a mesma naturalidade com a qual portaria um talher durante o jantar.

E, de fato, Benjicot o encarava como se fosse seu almoço, fazendo Borys cerrar o maxilar diante da óbvia condescendência com que era tratado.  

Eram observados por todos os pares de olhos Martell possíveis, salve os da própria Princesa que estava ocupada com seus afazeres, e ele não queria ser humilhado daquela forma na frente da família que o recebia. Àquela altura, ele não era um absoluto desastre no manuseio da arma dornesa, afinal, faria uma volta de lua desde sua chegada à Lançassolar – uma volta de lua em que, todos os dias, sem exceção, ia ao pátio junto ao herdeiro de Alto Ermitério e ocasionalmente de um sujeito Targaryen, ambos na mesma condição que ele de protegidos de Selaena Martell – ainda que o último preferisse muito mais estar nas costas de seu dragão Tessarion, alcunhada Rainha Vermelha, à manejando uma lança com os companheiros. Mas desde então o máximo que aprendera havia sido como perder da maneira mais digna possível do Dayne, que nascera com as artes de luta dornesas em seu sangue.  

Movendo-se no mesmo passo que Benjicot, num movimento circular contínuo em que mantinham uma distância segura um do outro, Borys decidiu que já era hora de ensinar ao ruivo arrogante o sabor de seu próprio remédio. Por isso avançou, o passo e o braço firmes, estocando o sujeito no ombro desprotegido. Os dorneses eram um povo estranho, não adeptos à proteção de armaduras, usando nem mesmo couros. E antes de chegar em Lançassolar, Borys os caçoava pela tolice como qualquer outro cavaleiro westerosi. No entanto, ao cruzar a fronteira entre as terras da tempestade e o território dornês, inteiramente vestido de cota de malha e aço polido, reviu suas concepções ao ser quase cozinhado vivo dentro das próprias roupas.  

Desde que entrou pelos portões do Palácio Antigo naquele dia fatídico, quase inteiramente despido,  Benjicot não o havia deixado em paz, fazendo chacota de sua cara continuamente enquanto o Baratheon lutava para se adaptar à cultura e costumes desconhecidos daquela terra estranha e hostil. Os homens eram violentos, as mulheres peçonhentas e lascivas, e Borys desgostava deles tanto quanto desgostava de Benjicot. Para completar seu desespero  não havia nenhuma outra pessoa até então que poderia chamar de amigo, salve o perjuro Dayne.  

Que, aliás, deslizou para fora do alcance de sua lança com a mesma suavidade com que daria um passo de dança. O ruivo manejava a própria arma no ar, rodopiando-a graciosamente, enquanto Borys penava para manter o foco em para onde ia sua ponta. Ele lhe deu um sorriso zombeteiro quando impediu seu ataque seguinte, chocando as hastes uma com a outra.  As lâminas tiniram uma segunda e terceira vez conforme o Baratheon, cada vez mais furioso, defendia desajeitado as investidas de Benjicot.  

Quando sua raiva explodiu, o herdeiro da Tempestade deu um passo firme em direção ao adversário, mirando a ponta da lâmina bem em sua garganta. Mas antes que pudesse alcança-lo deu um salto para trás quando uma flecha passou rente a seu rosto, cravando-se em um dos bonecos de palha que os mais novos usavam para praticar.  

Os dois rapazes se viraram ao mesmo tempo, sobressaltados e bravos com a interrupção de seu confronto. Com o sol batendo forte no rosto, Borys só conseguiu distinguir uma figura esguia e vestida de couros de treinamento na borda do pátio, com os dedos ainda na curva do arco que segurava. Caminhando com passos largos e irritados foi em sua direção, segurando a lança com força.  

O sujeito recuou, intimidado com a raiva que certamente viu em seu rosto, mas antes que Borys pensasse em qualquer coisa o cabo da lança de Benjicot cortou seu caminho.  

Com um sorriso jocoso, ele advertiu:

— Acho melhor não, Baratheon. Eu não mexeria com essa se fosse você.

Essa?  

Borys piscou, sentindo a fúria anterior arrefecer quando reconheceu o rosto que o encarava, sobressaltado. O cabelo tinha sido recentemente cortado na altura do queixo, por isso ele havia pensado que se tratava de um homem para começo de conversa. Nas vezes em que a tinha visto, até então só nas refeições que a família Martell dividia com seus hóspedes e homens mais fiéis, os cachos iam até sua cintura. Mas os cílios longos e os lábios largos só podiam ser de uma garota. Da garota.  

— Princesa. — Borys praticamente bufou o cumprimento, consertando a postura hostil com um aceno educado. Encarou-a de cima, ainda um pouco consternado com a altura que ela exibia mesmo sendo tão nova e sendo uma mulher.  

— Sor Borys. — ela abriu um pequeno sorriso, parecendo achar graça da sua irritação, mas foi educada o suficiente para não caçoar dele assim como todos os outros naquele lugar pareciam fazer. — Ben. Achei bom interromper seu combate antes que você fosse empalado pelo nosso convidado.

Benjicot riu, abandonando toda a raiva que parecia sentir por ter sido interrompido no meio do treino.

— Sabe muito bem que ele não conseguiria fazer isso nem se quisesse, Sif.  

— Não sei, ele realmente parecia querer sua cabeça numa estaca um minuto atrás. — a garota se voltou para Borys, que tinha cruzado os braços sobre o peito. — Não que eu possa culpa-lo. Eu mesma já quis fazer isso algumas vezes.  

Suas palavras fizeram o Baratheon sorrir. Um pouco.  

— Tudo isso uma clara demonstração de seu afeto por mim. — o Dayne continuou a cutuca-la com seu sorriso cortês, sem muito sucesso. Sieglinde só olhou-o de cima abaixo com um olhar que fez até Borys se sentir desconfortável e murmurou:

— É claro. — Sua fala foi seguida de uma salva de palminhas que vieram do outro lado do pátio, onde as outras crianças Martell descansavam e os observavam de debaixo de uma tenda. As mãos que batiam as palmas empolgadas pertenciam à Taryne e Elrie, as gêmeas, mas a garota do meio, Jaelyn, também parecia se divertir com a cena mesmo com o irmão recém-nascido nos braços.  

— Foi uma apresentação e tanto. Mas acho que é hora de parar por hoje. — Ben disse, finalmente desistindo de perturbar a Martell mais velha e dando tapinhas no ombro de Borys. — Você se saiu bem, Baratheon. Só não deixe a raiva consumir você. Um pouco de raiva é bom numa batalha, muita pode deixa-lo cego.  

— Não creio que essas palavras estão saindo mesmo de sua boca, Ben. — alfinetou Sieglinde, sem conseguir se segurar.  

Ele a ignorou, caminhando para fora do pátio assim que Borys acenou para ele.  

— Espero que possa me desculpar pela interrupção, Sor Borys. — o estrangeiro encarou-a, buscando algum traço de ironia em sua voz, mas não achou nada. E isso o pegou despreparado.  

Coçou o queixo, envergonhado ao pensar a maneira como tinha avançado nela mais cedo, com uma fúria sanguinária que ele sabia que não tinha nada haver com ela, e sim com as próprias frustrações de viver num lugar em que não parecia se encaixar.  

— Não precisa pedir desculpa. — disse, por fim, pigarreando para limpar a garganta. — Eu é quem devo me desculpar, imagino, por...  

—... Querer me empalar com a lança? — ela sugeriu divertidamente. Ele piscou. Então ela o ajudou, tendo a delicadeza de uma dama westerosi ao dizer: — Não se preocupe com isso. Eu vivo aqui há mais tempo que você.  

Borys sorriu aliviado por ela ter tirado dele a obrigação de contornar a situação constrangedora enquanto saíam de debaixo do sol, indo para a borda do pátio.  

— É claro. — concordou.  

— Vejo que você não está se dando muito bem com nossas armas. Nem com nossa comida. — a Princesa observou, solidária. — Nem com... Bem, Dorne.  

Borys suspirou.

— Temo que esteja certa.

Ela acenou, parecendo pensativa ao olhar o lugar em que haviam estado um segundo antes.  

— Acho que eu posso ajudar a tornar sua estadia aqui mais suportável. Considerando que não vai passar somente mais um mês por aqui, imagino eu.  

O Baratheon negou com a cabeça. Não estava certo de por quanto tempo passaria nas terras dornesas – tinha partido de Ponta Tempestade sem data de retorno. Só isso confirmava suas suspeitas de que seria um período longo.  

— Pode me ajudar? — perguntou, um pouco enervado. Essa era a primeira vez que trocavam mais que cumprimentos polidos, e a tranquilidade e prestatividade com que a Princesa agia era no mínimo suspeita. Nenhum dornês que conhecera até então havia sido tão sinceramente cordial, e Borys ficava tenso só em pensar que tipo de sentido as mulheres dornesas davam a ajuda.  

Não que tivesse medo de garotas. Tinha beijado um bom punhado delas até então. Mas aquela não era do tipo normal, isso ele podia ver só pelo arco que ela continuava segurando confortavelmente, como se fosse parte de seu corpo.  

— Claro. — ela acenou, convicta, com uma mão no queixo. Então olhou-o. — Me encontre depois do jantar. Acho que é tempo suficiente para terminar.  

— Depois do jantar? — ele repetiu debilmente.

— Isso. Pode ir para a Torre do Sol, embora... Eu ache melhor que nos encontremos em meus aposentos.  

Borys encarou-a, um leve rubor subindo em seu rosto. Com sorte, ela o atribuiria ao sol que havia levado na cara durante a tarde inteira.  

— É claro. — concordou. Mas ela já se afastava, acenando enquanto ia em direção às irmãs para se recolherem aos próprios quartos.  

×××

Quando o ocaso caiu, Borys saiu de seus aposentos na Torre da Lança, descendo metade da escadaria até o corredor que o levaria à Torre do Sol. A estrutura central do Palácio Antigo era provavelmente uma das mais belas que ele havia visto em sua vida, com a redoma vítrea condecorando seu topo, fazendo reluzir no chão e nos Tronos ali posicionados reflexos coloridos quando o sol estava à tina no céu. Mesmo á noite era encantador,  iluminado com castiçais e banhado pela brisa fresca do mar que o remetia imediatamente à sua casa.    Fizera somente um mês desde que havia partido e, no entanto, Borys já sentia saudade de Ponta Tempestade. Sentia falta da presença adorável de sua mãe, do sorriso acolhedor de Roberta, no qual sempre podia apoiar-se quando abatido, e mesmo da presença imponente de seu pai, que sempre esperava o melhor daquele que havia se tornado seu herdeiro desde que o primogênito havia decidido por tomar o colar de Meistre e partido para a Cidadela.  

Suspirou ao adentrar no salão sob a cúpula, conforme rememorava os rostos que eram tão queridos a si. Em contraponto, Dorne não parecia muito disposto a deixa-lo confortável em nenhum sentido.  

— Sor Borys. — a Princesa acenou do outro lado da sala, onde espalmava as mãos na superfície de vidro da parede.  

Borys parou, pendendo junto à porta. A família Martell em peso já sentava-se à mesa, junto ao Meistre que os servia e dos protegidos de Selaena que habitavam Lançassolar. O Baratheon estava desconfortavelmente ciente do olhar da Princesa Regente sobre si, e a última coisa que desejava era obter algum problema com a mulher que abrira as portas de sua casa a ele. Dirigiu-se em direção à Sieglinde, por fim, cumprimentando-a com um aceno de cabeça.  

— Estou observando o céu. — ela comentou, ainda que ele não tivesse lhe dirigido nenhuma palavra. — Aprecia fazer o mesmo?

— Temo que não.

— Foi o que achei. — ela abriu um sorriso discreto, mas não parecia zombar dele; apenas parecia satisfeita pela própria constatação estar correta. — Vamos, então. Reservei um lugar para você a meu lado.  

Borys seguiu-a, cada vez mais consternado por seu comportamento, mas o jantar correu tão normalmente quanto os anteriores. Como nas outras ocasiões similares, o herdeiro da Tempestade falou pouco, preferindo observar as interações muitas vezes barulhentas do excêntrico grupo. Todos pareciam dar-se bem, a seu próprio modo, adaptados à presença um do outro. E ainda que não o destratassem, tampouco dirigiam a ele mais que as amenidades polidas usuais.  

Naquela noite, no entanto, Taryne Martell parecia reservar outros planos para ele.  

— Olá, Sor. — a menina disse, aproximando-se dele quando o jantar já se findara e os presentes haviam espalhado-se pelo salão em diálogos esparsos. — O senhor gosta da vista daqui de cima?  

Ele não pôde deixar de sorrir minimamente ao dizer:

— Gosto, sim, com certeza, Lady Taryne. E você?

— Ah, muito! Gosto principalmente de olhar a cidade, lá embaixo. Ela parece tão pequenininha daqui, não acha?  

— Ah, claro. — murmurou Borys com pouca convicção, sentindo-se de repente meio velho e enfadonho. De canto de olho, ele notou que Sieglinde parecia divertir-se com sua aflição, observando-os de alguma distância.  

Taryne apenas sorriu com ar coquete e respondeu:

— Mas eu prefiro os Jardins de Água. O Senhor sabia que eles têm também uma história muito romântica?  

Sieglinde disfarçou o riso pondo a mão nos lábios, a traidora.

— É mesmo? — conseguiu dizer Borys, com algum esforço.

— É. — afirmou Taryne, com tamanha expressão de sabedoria que o Baratheon imaginou se não havia uma matrona de quarenta anos dentro de seu corpo de sete. — O Príncipe Maron Martell os construiu como um presente para sua noiva Targaryen, para marcar a união de Dorne com os Sete Reinos.

— Compreendo. — ele disse, suspirando em seguida como se estivesse frustrado. Lançou um breve olhar a Sieglinde, por cima da menina. — Bom, lamento dizer que esta não seja uma opção nesse caso.  

— Como assim? — a expressão dela foi sendo tomada pelo deleite quando entendeu o que ele estava querendo dizer. — Nesse caso?  

— Isso mesmo. Se terei de construir um palácio para cortejá-la, Lady Taryne, sinto dizer que precisaríamos esperar até que eu assuma meu posto como Lorde de Ponta Tempestade. Só assim terei o dinheiro e o poder suficiente para uma empreitada assim.  

— Mas você é filho do Lorde.

— Infelizmente, isso não significa muito quando se quer construir um palácio.  

Taryne o encarava com um misto de desconfiança e alegria. A desconfiança afinal venceu. Suas mãos foram parar nos jovens quadris quando ela estreitou os olhos e indagou:

— O Senhor está brincando comigo?  

Ele permitiu-se sorrir:

— O que a senhorita acha?  

— Acho que sim.

— Pois eu acho que seria um tolo se desafiasse qualquer uma das mulheres de sua família.

A menina pensou por um instante.

— Se decidir casar com minha irmã, tem minha aprovação — começou, fazendo Borys engasgar, ainda que não estivesse comendo nada. — Mas, se não se casar com ela — continuou Taryne, sorrindo quase timidamente. —, eu ficaria muito agradecida se esperasse por mim.  

Para a sorte do jovem Baratheon, que não tinha qualquer prática com meninas pequenas, Gaemon Targaryen surgiu das sombras, o cabelo louro reluzindo prateado debaixo da luz da lua. Ele tomou a mão da jovem Martell num beijo breve e cordial.  

— Minha senhora. Gostaria que me acompanhasse num passeio pela sala, o que acha?  

Taryne encarou-o, perplexa e encantada. Neste exato momento, a Princesa Sieglinde aproximou-se, puxando levemente a orelha da irmã mais nova ao indagar:

— E o que a faz achar que tem o direito de importunar nosso convidado com tais sugestões impróprias?  

Taryne fechou a cara de imediato, murmurando um pequeno “ai!” enquanto era puxada pela irmã mais velha para próximo aos Tronos, onde sua irmã do meio conversava animadamente com Benjicot Dayne.  

Quando ela estava longe o suficiente, Borys permitiu-se expirar, aliviado.  

— Obrigado por intervir. — disse educadamente em direção a Gaemon, somente porque precisava dizer algo para preencher o silêncio entre ambos.

Ele acenou brevemente de maneira solidária.

— A família Martell pode ser exasperadora, ás vezes. Mas você se acostuma. — ao dizer isso, o valiriano lançou um breve olhar em direção à Princesa, que retornava com passos decididos em sua direção.  

— É claro.  

Ao alcança-los, Sieglinde cumprimentou Gaemon, que afastou-se prontamente ao notar que a dupla intencionava dialogar entre si.  

— Precisava tirá-lo das garras dela, ou então nunca teria a chance de leva-lo para fora daqui. — Borys achou ter visto um lampejo de excitação cruzar os olhos cinzentos dela quando as palavras saíram de sua boca. Tomando seu braço, ela passou a guia-lo para longe dos outros presentes, então para fora da Torre do Sol e direto para seus aposentos pessoais.  

Durante todo o caminho ele perguntou-se se aquela era realmente uma boa ideia. Era fato que a garota era bonita; de um jeito diferente das mulheres de Westeros, mas ainda assim bonita. E, até então, fora uma das poucas pessoas com as quais ele se dera verdadeiramente bem em Lançassolar. Fazia apenas um dia em que haviam dialogado, de fato, mas havia sido tempo o suficiente para ele decidir que agraciava-se da companhia da Princesa. Ainda que tivesse ressalvas acerca de seu comportamento enigmático.  

E, contudo, Borys duvidava que qualquer atitude de sua parte passaria despercebida aos olhos atentos de Selaena Martell.  

Era nisso que refletia quando viu-se parado na divisão entre a antecâmara que prescindia o quarto da Princesa e o cômodo em si. Apoiou-se na porta, incerto sobre dar um passo a mais, e observou-a ir até a própria cama, sentando-se enquanto remexia em alguns papéis que repousavam sobre as sedas cuidadosamente forradas. Então ela olhou-o inquisitivamente.  

Borys inspirou antes de dar o primeiro passo. Ao alcança-la, sentou-se a seu lado, mantendo os olhos em seu rosto o tempo todo. Quando começava a se perguntar se ela esperava que ele desse o primeiro passo, a garota apontou com o dedo para uma das folhas de pergaminho que estava entre eles.  

— Veja. — indicou a figura que fora desenhada no papel.  

Ele piscou, então obedeceu-a, focando-se na imagem que reconheceu como sendo de um... — Tridente?

A Princesa acenou, parecendo particularmente empolgada ao começar:

— Eu achei isso dentro de um dos livros da biblioteca. Quando vi você hoje no pátio, imaginei que talvez fosse a solução para seus problemas com a lança. — explicou, usando o indicador para apontar as partes que eram importantes. — Quer dizer, ainda é uma arma de médio alcance, é verdade. Mas você deve se dar bem com elas. O manejo é parecido com o da Lança, mas a lâmina o difere completamente. Eu alterei o seu estilo para o que julguei que seria melhor para você.  

O Baratheon encarou o desenho intricado da lâmina tridimensional, que claramente fora feito acima do original mais antigo, o ânimo substituindo o lugar da surpresa pelo rumo da conversa.  

— Acha mesmo que eu me sairia melhor com isso? — indagou.  

Ela acenou vigorosamente com a cabeça, abrindo o maior sorriso seu que ele já vira até então. O sorriso alcançava seus olhos, que brilhavam com a percepção de uma de suas ideias realmente ser levada à prática ou tornar-se útil.  

— Eu posso pedir que o ferreiro comece ainda hoje. Talvez leve uns dois dias, mas logo você poderá testar no pátio.  

Borys acenou, incapaz de fazer muito mais que isso, desnorteado que estava pela gentileza repentina. Então, ao notar que ela comprimira os lábios, abriu um sorriso:

— Eu acho que pode dar certo. Muito certo.  

— Espero que Ben esteja preparado para isso.

— Eu espero que não.

Eles riram, então o rapaz encarou-a um pouco mais seriamente ao proferir:

— Obrigado pela ajuda, Alteza.

— Ora, Sor. Não se atenha a isso. Será meu prazer vê-lo espetar a bunda metida daquele Dayne com seu novo tridente.  

— Acho que Borys é o suficiente.  

— Borys. — ela tornou a sorrir um daqueles sorrisos espetaculares. — É claro. E Sieglinde também está ótimo.  

Ele acenou. Então, ainda que não o desejasse, pôs-se de pé.

— É hora de ir. — e, arriscando: — Vejo-a amanhã na forja?  

— Decerto que sim. — a Princesa acompanhou-o até a porta de saída. Quando Borys já descera dois dos inúmeros degraus que teria de enfrentar, no entanto, chamou-o uma última vez. Ao voltar-se, Borys foi surpreendido por um beijo plantado em seus lábios enquanto seu colarinho era segurado firme.  

Desceu o resto da escadaria como um furacão, indo deitar naquela noite repleto de uma ansiedade que pensou que havia esquecido desde que abandonara Ponta Tempestade. A percepção das coisas estarem aparentemente mudando em Dorne levou-o a demorar a dormir. Pôs-se a observar a vista da própria janela enquanto o sono não o alcançava e, pouco antes de por fim adormecer, pôde visualizar uma figura imensa disparando em direção ao céu noturno.  

A rainha vermelha, pensou, sonolento, enquanto o mundo dos sonhos o embalava.  

[inkandpapermagic]

Queen of Nothing: In-depth Theories and Analysis of loose ends and plot threads from TCP and TWK that still need to be addressed

    I had too much time on my hands on a summer afternoon, and since I just finished a reread of The Cruel Prince and The Wicked King, I wanted to get my thoughts together (I also am an English major and I’m starved for some literary analysis, yo). This series has so many cool prophecies and mysteries and there’s a ton of plot threads needing to be tied up in The Queen of Nothing. So, I chose a few of my favorites to over-think on.

Justin and Eva, the dumb kids who started this mess 

Justin and Eva, y’all. Justin and Eva. Ever since Jude saw her mother in the Lake of Masks, I have been dying to know the real story about these two. Jude doesn’t seem to be that curious, but during her entire conversation with Asha, I was screaming internally for Jude to shut up and let the woman talk about this mysterious pair. I could personally read an entire novel about them alone (Holly, if you’re reading this, please please please can we make some kind of faerie bargain about this?). 

In any case, there’s so many unanswered questions about Justin and Eva. I’m just going to dive right in, starting with Justin. He seems like a pretty straightforward guy-- dude just wanted to make swords. Like, really wanted to make swords. Justin was probably that kid in high school who played Dungeons and Dragons 24/7 and set the school on fire during wood shop class. He is a fictional, real-life Gendry Baratheon, and according to Taryn in The Lost Sisters, he sold his swords on Ebay.The only real hint we get that Justin may have been more than Eva’s hunky mortal baby daddy is what we hear from Grimsen: 

“Then I told him I would give him one of my secrets: He could learn the practice of a hundred years in a single day… if only he would part with something he didn’t want to lose.”

“And did he make the bargain?” I ask.

He appears delighted. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Will we find out Justin’s bargain? I personally think he took it-- and lost his life.

Then there’s Eva, who we hear a lot about but know very little. We know that she had an idea of who her daughter would become-- but sadly, she was a bit misguided. 

“...do you know what the hag said? That Eva’s child was destined to be a greater weapon than Justin could ever forge.” 

    Of course, Eva thought this was Vivi, and Asha speculates that this prophecy might have influenced Eva’s decision to flee to the mortal world. But we don’t know that, or really anything about why she decided to leave, a fact Jude bemoans to Cardan.

“There are so many questions I wish I could ask my mom… why she married Madoc,” I say. “Whether she loved him and why she left him and whether she was happy in the human world. Whether she actually murdered someone and hid her body in the burnt remains of Madoc’s original stronghold.”

    I NEED ANSWERS, HOLLY. 

    Of course, Asha knows-- “...one or both of them killed a woman and burned the body to hide your mother’s disappearance from Madoc. I could tell you about that. I could tell you how it happened--” but she’s not telling without a reward. 

    While I can’t even begin to guess who that woman could be, I do think that Jude will consider her mother’s fate as she struggles with her own relationship with Cardan. It’s something Taryn struggled with, too, in The Lost Sisters. I also still like the theory I’ve seen floating around here that Cardan and Jude somehow end up in the mortal world together, permanently-- wouldn’t that bring things full circle. 

    Jude, Oriana, Jude’s bad life choices, and Oriana’s disapproval of Jude’s bad life choices 

    Speaking of crazy kids in love-- the subject of lovers, specifically those of the High King, is something that is explored very early on, in the first half of The Cruel Prince. Through the story of Liriope, we can understand that being the High King’s lover is a dangerous job. And since we know early on that Jude is attracted to Cardan, we’re worried for her. But it’s Oriana who inadvertadly imparts wisdom onto Jude about what she’s getting herself into. Oriana mistakenly thinks Jude is Dain’s lover, and their conversation, which at first seems throwaway and out of place, really intrigues me. First, Oriana admits she was Eldred’s lover, and tells Jude the story of Liriope. Then, she wraps up that story with a moral: 

“Hear me, Jude. It is no easy thing to be the lover of the High King. It is to always be in danger. It is to always be a pawn.” Then shit starts to get weird. Oriana says to Jude:

“If you go to Prince Dain despite my warning, if he gets his heir on you, tell no one before you tell me. Swear it on your mother’s grave.” 

    Jude, of course, swears, thinking she won’t have a problem keeping that vow. But why was that included at all? Just to show that Oriana is paranoid and crazy?

    I don’t think Jude will necessarily be having Cardan’s baby or anything like that. But I do think that Oriana’s lesson will come back to her, just as it did when she watched Eldred’s lover be murdered at the coronation. Jude has already become somewhat of a pawn-- after all, Orlagh abducted her, and Cardan bargained to get her back. And that was when she was only a seneschal. When Faerie finds out that she has become the Queen, who knows what might happen to her? 

    As for how her vow to Oriana fits into that-- I think that perhaps she will go to Oriana for help with something else. Maybe to tell her about their marriage, or ask her for advice, or even for revenge. Who knows? What I do know is that Oriana will not be having any of Jude’s nonsense. 

    “I want to tell you so many lies”-- are Jude and Cardan actually married? 

And now that we’re on the subject of lovers, let’s talk about those marriage vows. 

What really bugs me about this is that when they married, Cardan didn’t know that Jude had killed Balekin. So he had no plans to send her away when they married. Which makes me think that, in his mind, he really thought that he could crown Jude and they could rule together. The act of exiling her was just a frantic chess move to get her off the board so that Orlagh wouldn’t kill her outright. I’ve read and reread that scene, and I still come off with the impression that he was sincere. And that supposed sincerity is what brings me to the marriage vows, specifically Cardan’s. He goes first, which means that he dictates the terms of the vow:

“I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands.” 

“Until we wish for it to be otherwise.” In her own vows, Jude puts it a little more simply: 

“Let us be wed until we don’t want to be and the crown has passed from our hands.” 

    This is interesting. If this rule holds true, than Cardan’s supposed betrayal of Jude would dictate that, if they’re truly at odds, that they technically aren’t married anymore since they supposedly hate each other. 

    Yet I think that, deep down, they both still wish they were married to the other. In that case, even though I’m sure they’ll pretend to be angry at each other, the marriage remains because they both secretly wish to remain married. 

The mermaids are out to get us 

Finally, I want to look at a little prophecy that takes place near the beginning of The Wicked King, but whose words I believe basically foreshadow the events of the entire book. 

“Spurn the sea once, we will have your blood,

Spurn the sea twice, we will have your clay, 

Spurn the sea thrice, your crown will away.” 

I think it’s safe to say that the “blood” was the drops of blood spilled when Nicasia accidentally hit Cardan while he was in bed. The clay, of course, is Jude, daughter of clay. I’ve seen several people on Tumblr discuss these theories and I definitely think that all makes sense. It’s the third line that interests me. But first, let’s go back to the Cardan’s final act of The Wicked King, when he exiles Jude. 

“Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” 

It all comes back to that line, doesn’t it? The general consensus is the Jude is the crown, and she can pardon herself. So how does this tie into the Undersea’s prophecy? 

Jude is exiled for killing Balekin, the ambassador to the Undersea. As a result, Cardan sends her away to the mortal world. 

“Spurn the sea thrice, your crown will away.” 

So, in conclusion, I believe that through a clever bit of wordplay, all three components of the Undersea prohpecy have come true-- in this case, because the crown, Jude, has been sent away in retaliation for her crime against the Undersea. 

        Queen Jude (doesn’t that sound amazing?)

There is one thing we can be sure of-- Jude Duarte will be queen of Faerie. After all, Baphen saw it in his stars: 

“The stars say this is a time of great upheavel,” says Baphen. “I see a new monarch coming, but whether that’s a sign of Cardan deposed or Orlagh overturned or NIcasia made queen, I cannot say.”

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking with me! I can’t contribute cool fanart but I can give you theories haha. 

And in short, this is me every day until November 19th: 

[moonraisedsunchild]

You seem to have a lot of OCs. Do you have like a master list of them or something?

oh god I have so many. 

Most arent considered mains to me, they are more like npcs, which means i probably only have their name and fc prepared. 

I might have a thing here and there about them in my brain and i might have some idea on how they would interact with certain mains but they aren’t as fleshed out as the mains. 

the secondaries can move to man if i start working on them more.

This isn’t all but this is currently all that i have found info on or remembered.

~

* means they moved from secondary to main.

☆ means share names but are different characters.

¤ means they have a canon counterpart but i am making changes.

~

i @’d them if i had a blog though i could have missed a blog or the thing didn’t link them/tag.

also for more homestuck ones go to @trolls-cherubs-and-kids

Italics mean they are on the @la-manada-de-muerte blog.

Bold means they are on the @unafraidofmoonlight blog

~

it will take a while to list them all (both main and secondaries) 

started on 4/9/18 in the evening and finished in the early morning of the 10th.

feel free to ask about any of them and i will do my best to answer!

Mains

1.      Nocovia Westly (story of my own that came from a rp)2.      Haven (LOZ/BOTW)3.      Eleonora Katharina Westergaard (Descendants 1&2) so much is written for this it’s kinda funny.4.      Idunn Fireheart (DA/Skyrim)5.      Yngvild (Vikings)6.      Yué Li (Star wars)7.      Cory Winchester (Supernatural)8.      Maggie Neely ¤ (TNW) x2 as different fcs steely-deliverer-neely9.      Mýrún/Muirenn DunBroch/Haddock (HTTYD/Brave)10.  Nanna (Undertale)11.  Natsuki Tachibana (Naruto/Bleach)12.  Dove Farseeker (WOW) @seekerdove13.  Snatch n Jab, Longshot, and Musey (DnD)14.  Xune'drada “Xuna” Of House T'sarran (DnD)15.  Maethriel (LoTR/Hobbit) @maethriel16.  Idunn (LoTR/Hobbit) @idunnthedwarrowdam17.  Casey Clearwater (Twilight)18.  Jax Pierce (Twilight)19.  Ara Rigel Argyris Black (HP)20.  Jax Kat Black Nee Argyris* (HP)21.  Chandra Bhatt Sharma (HP) @chandraofhufflepuff22.  Pyra Thera Nott  (HP)23.  Theodore Nott ¤  (HP) 24.  Moana Sigyn Herondale  (HP)25.  Haven Alexandria Potter (HP) @shelterofhogwarts​26.  Elara “Ellie” Pandora Black* (HP)27.  Nova “Novie” Calypso Black* (HP)28.  Oberon “Obie” Deimos Black* (HP)29.  Iris & Hazel Plank (HP)30.  Alejandro Rodolfo Martin (HP)31.   Calen JolanLycian (HP)32.   Nissa SimoneAdams (Riverdale/The Flash)33.  Hansa Chari (Riverdale)34.  Maëla Samaelson (Riverdale)35.  Morgause Mervyn (TW)36.  Yukio ‘Yu’ Kai-Zhāng Hale (TW)37.  Cordelia Jane Lycian (TW)38.  Talia Paisley Posey (TW)39.  Althea “Tia” Hestia Harman (TW)40.  Poppy Darcy (TW)41.  Pan Katsaros (TVD/TW/SH)42.  Ajax Megalos (TVD/TW/SH)   43.  Nemesis Argyris☆ (TVD/TW/SH)   44.  Meara Asherah Martin (PJO/TW)45.  Farley Halvorsen (TVD)46.  Ella Herondale-Graymark (SH)47.  Amara Bane (SH/TDI)48.  Morgause Jackson (PJO)49.  Kit Marinos (PJO)50.  Hansa Stark (GOT)51.  Eleonora Baratheon (GOT)52.  Ina Martell (GOT)53.  Lola Caraleah Barton (Marvel & maybe DC)54.  Lola Marie Blake/Banner (Marvel)55.  Adiand'r Kon-el/ Adiary Selene Anders-Kent AKAMoonfire/Superfire (DC/Marvel)56.  Anani Leah Bachman aka Volatile* (Marvel/DC)57.  Marisol Lola Robles-Sanchez aka Thunderbird* (Dc/Marvel)58.  Koraline Dalilah Isley (DC)59.  Hansa Marissa Harmaajärvi (DC) @hmh-azureriptide60.  Pyralis Titaia Zabat (DC)61.  Cordelia “Cory” McLellan (DC) picked a surname for her finally (for C & her 3 bs)62.  Sigyn Ran Allen (DC)63.  Hlin II Baldersdottir (Marvel) @daughters-of-baldr64.  Eir II Baldersdottir (Marvel) ^^65.  Samanta Fárbautisdottir  (Marvel) 66.  BlueShade (Marvel) only has an alias never named her.

Veronica Potts (Marvel) @watergrownpotts​   

Kenna (?)

  Secondaries1.      Jude Black (Twilight)2.      Nemesis Argyris (HP)3.      Dorothy Selwyn (HP)4.      Barbara Selwyn (HP)5.      Lucille Selwyn  (HP)6.      Theodosia Rosier (HP)7.      Dolorosa Rosier   (HP)8.      Josephina Rosier  (HP)9.      Amara Nott (nee Fawley)  ¤ (HP)10.  Richard Nott  ¤ (HP)11.  Thaddeus Fawley  ¤ (HP)12.  Sullivan Fawley  ¤ (HP)13.  Hansa Marissa Lillard-Patton  (HP)14.  Hestia Faye Bones  (HP)15.  Aiden  Nicholas Bones  (HP)16.  London Amelia Bones  (HP)17.  Líadan Aisling Ó Rinn  (HP)18.  Bran Meallán Finnigan (HP)19.  Harlan Cedric Howler (HP)20.  Aiden Nicholas Howler  (HP)21.  Nova Amelia Howler  (HP)22.  Hestia Faye Howler  (HP)23.  Noah Duncan  (HP)24.  Jacob Duncan  (HP)25.  James Duncan  (HP)26.  Caleb Duncan  (HP)27.  Freya Duncan  (HP)28.  Connie Quinn  (HP)29.  Matilda Quinn  (HP)30.  Taryn Quinn  (HP)31.  Slyvie Quinn  (HP)32.  Mulan Li  (HP)33.   Xing-Yue Li  (HP)34.  Chou ‘Cho’ mo chang/ Qiū Zhāng ¤ (HP)35.  Ling ‘lin’ he chang /Zhāng  (HP)36.  Ru ‘Rue’ Lian Chang/ Zhāng  (HP)37.  Arnav Chopra Desai  (HP)38.  Anvi Chopra Desai  (HP)39.  Mani Bhatt Desai  (HP)40.  Hari Bhatt Desai  (HP)41.  Asha Bhatt Sharma  (HP)42.  Darshana Bhatt Sharma (HP)43.  Damon Jones (Riverdale)44.  Mu Samaelson (Riverdale)45.  Stefan Cooper (Riverdale)46.  Morgaine McArthur  (TW)47.  Nimue Mervyn  (TW)48.  Alma Subi Kakar  (TW)49.  Imelda Vonda Althaus (TW)50.  Maud Ella Althaus  (TW)51.  Karou Jun Seung  (TW)52.  Zola Zidati Brisbane  (TW)53.  Ahyoka Wolfe (TW)54.  Espie Brigid O'Brien  (TW)55.  Thespa Arianrhod O'Brien  (TW)56.  Lewis Gimli Watts  (TW)57.  Ula Nimue Ó Muireagáin  (TW)58.  Ira Jude Evans  (TW)59.  Hazel Tatiana Vespera Petrova  (TW)60.  Clíodhna “Cleo” Deveraux  (TW)61.  Tracy Stewart ¤  (TW)62.  Erin Matthews  (TW)63.  Tala Bane  (TW)64.  Kendel Anderson  (TW)65.  Teagan Bennett  (TW)66.  Monica Andrews  (TW)67.  Noemi “Ami” Martinez  (TW)68.  Aili (eye-lee) Isaacson  (TW)69.  Rebekah “Beks” Kayne  (TW)70.  Amelia “Lia” Mills  (TW)71.  Rebecca ‘Harley’ Harlowe  (TW)72.  Stacy McCall  (TW) 73.  Jesse Harlowe  (TW)74.  Ara Yukimura (TW) 75.  Hestia “Hex” Raven Basurto  (TW)76.  Julianna “Jules” Wolf (TW) 77.  Mark Richard Bennett  (TW)78.  Kevin Robert Bennett (TW) 79.  Stella Rene Bennett (Nee Lycian (Nee Celeste))  (TW)80.  Duncan Owen Lycian  (TW)81.  Eline ‘Eli’ Gwendolyn Lycian  (TW)82.  Steven Marcus Bennett  (TW)83.  Seeley Blythe  (TW)84.  Renata Enid Bishop  (TW)85.  Ramona Henley Bishop  (TW)86.  Lukas Carter  (TW)87.  Denise Maeve Lemay  (TW)88.  Mira Ocarina Martin (TW) /Mira ‘Stark’ Tyrell (GOT)89.  Kavum Martell (GOT)90.  Chandra Martell  (GOT)91.  Aarushi Martell (GOT)92.  Adelaide Michaelson/Hamilton/Graymark/Herondale (SH/DC/TVD???) 93.  Heiđrún Halvorsen  (TVD/TO)94.  Serena Halvorsen  (TVD/TO)95.  Bistra Halvorsen  (TVD/TO)96.  Maiko Akamine (Naruto)97.  Rory Darrow (Homestuck/undertale)98.  Arizona “Rona” Robles (Homestuck/Undertale)99.  Cili (LoTR(?)/Hobbit)100. Eliza  (LoTR/Hobbit)101. Lalia Fairbairn-Greenhand  (LoTR/Hobbit) 102. Maire Fairbairn-Greenhand  (LoTR/Hobbit)103. Arodien (LoTR/Hobbit) 104. Idunna Odinsdottir/Dana Runa Astrid Meadows  (DC/Marvel)105. Hlina Odinsdottir/Leah Suzanna Fawn Meadows (DC/Marvel)106. Titaia Ianthe Alkmene Katsaros aka Tana  (DC)107. Mao Tachibana &  Kyōsei-sha/Dōsei (DC)108. Haven Amelia Buckley/Laila Aisha Al-Amin (DC)   109. Liam Alexander Buckley/Omar Ali Al-Amin (DC)   110. Warren Axel Buckley/Amir Jericho Al-Amin (DC)111. Luke Meadows (DC)112.Stephanie Meadows (DC)113. Veronica Marie Robles-Sanchez AKA Techward (DC)114. Noemi Robles-Sanchez AKA SolarMatrix (DC)115. Jane Sanchez AKA LunarSphere (DC)116. Nephele Anemone Zabat  (DC)117. Demetria Petra Zabat   (DC)118. Thalassa Arethousa Zabat  (DC)119. Bonnie Anita Blake (Marvel)120. Caroline Jolene Blake  (Marvel)121. Noah Blake  (Marvel)122. Eline Clare Dickson (?)123. Jane Marie Dickson (?)124. Neelam Nehal Sharma (?)125. Ara Sawako sasaki (?)126. Kira Aiko sasaki (?)127. Arun Madhava Soman (?) 128. Adithya “Adi” Kapoor Patel (?) 129. Sharada “Charu” Anjali Mahal (?)

Edit: add to main: Nissa Simone Larkspear (SH)

[taryn-artistic-optimism]

Updates

Finally, after having this blog for years and mostly ignoring it, I decided to update the appearance and my username! I don’t know what I was still using my full name as my url. I changed it from taryndooley -> taryn-artistic-optimism. Also, I was using a super old picture of myself as an avatar. I updated it to a newer one because I don’t really know what else to use at the moment for this blog.

Anyways, if you’ve followed me recently, welcome and thank you!! If you’re looking for fandom posts, make sure to follow one of my side blogs. This is just my main account so if I like your posts/follow you, it comes up here.

Here’s a list of all my side blogs:

Misc fandom but 95% Inuyasha right now = lostinfantasyworlds

The Mentalist = goodluckteresa

Brooklyn 99 = peraltiagostyle99

Game of Thrones = gendrya-stark-baratheon

[ao3feed-tywin]

Dead Men Tell No Tales

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2X3t2DL

by crimscntears

The House of Varens is shrouded in prestige, as Kings who refused to yield to the Targaryens instead bargaining for an alliance — sharing their wisps of wisdom in how to take down the rest of the noble houses. Though not as ancient as the Starks, nor as wealthy as the Lannisters, the House draws its power from knowledge. They bargain: for peace and survival, for life and death. However long since their prestige has prevailed — withstanding the terrible winters and endless battles — the members of House Varens have prided themselves on the fact that they have never surrendered their people or place. They are royalty through and through but regality has a price.

Their words all is not lost serves as a subtle warning to those who dare threaten them. No matter what they will prevail, no matter how weak they are perceived to be. Even what they had been fighting a losing fight against the Targaryens all those centuries ago the war ended with the Varens as victors, refusing to put their home in enemy’s hands. The small island of Verona — situated west of the North — is said to be inhabited by ghosts of days past. Their spirits linger and their presence ever glowing. They bequeath strength upon the Varens and Verona alike.

Words: 13762, Chapters: 3/80, Language: English

Fandoms: game of thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, Robb Stark, Ned Stark, Sansa Stark, Catelyn Tully, Jon Snow, Bran Stark, Arya Stark, Rickon Stark, Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen, Oberyn Martell, Varys, Petyr Baelish, Ashara Dayne, Arthur Dayne, Robert Baratheon, Sandor Clegane, Daenerys Targaryen

Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Elena Varens (OC), Sandor Clegane/Elena Varens (OC), Daenerys Targaryen/Arthur Varens (OC), Margaery Tyrell/Stefan Lannister (OC), Sansa Stark/Stefan Lannister (OC), Robb Stark/Raina Waters (OC), Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Garlan Tyrell/Rosario Martell (OC), Cersei Lannister/Ragnar Targaryen (OC), Tarik Varens (OC)/Amara Dayne (OC), Theon Greyjoy/Taryn Stark (OC), Gendry Waters/Taryn Stark (OC)

Additional Tags: War, Forbidden Love, Arranged Marriage, Robb Stark Lives, Game of Thrones - Freeform, a song of ice and fire - Freeform, Betrayal, Blood, Ghosts, Lannister, Stark - Freeform, Robb’s death broke me I’m not writing that crap, Jaime deserved better and I’m giving him better, Mix of book and show, pre season 1 - season 8, Will have many flashback chapters, Somewhat of an alternate universe, Idc about Jaime’s oaths he’s married bite me, Love, Lust, Desire

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2X3t2DL

[heartofmortis]

✶ Lionheart

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

TAGS: major character death, friends to lovers, childhood friends, arranged marriage, one bed trope, big old tragedy, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, canon compliant (😔), pregnancy/childbirth, robb as a dad!! some chapters of this fic will be 18+

NOTE: revamping this fic on here because i have noooo energy to edit my chapters into second person, sorry gang. my robb stark brainrot is endless and i need more people to write for him pleaseeeeeee.

TIMELINE: season / book one onwards. a mix of show & book canon!

A soft heart is no curse.

Taryn Baratheon is nothing like her parents. Her mother’s first-born, most deeply adored. Born in the ashes of a victorious rebellion, Taryn is the brightest spring child in King’s Landing. Free as the breeze whistling through the trees, love burns in her veins like sun rays. (You’re too good for this world, her mother whispers as she holds her daughter close. No one will hurt you. You’re safe here with me.)

The Pearl of King’s Landing, they called her. Sun-bright and untouchable. To be beloved by the Smallfolk is a rare gift, and Taryn bears it proudly. A little doe besides her father, a Great Stag, and her mother-lion.

A soft heart is no curse. Taryn believes it until she spends a month travelling North with her family, a trip that spins her world on its axis and won’t let her come home. When she is left alone in a vast castle with no true company, her pretty heart can only be a curse. No one trusts a naive girl raised in the lion’s den — not even when steel cuts across her palms, blood soaking her fingers as she tries to protect a boy she hardly knows. Taryn’s mother was the only one who allowed her to be herself. (The North does not find courage in the kindness of princesses.)

Taryn Baratheon’s soft heart is a curse until the day Robb Stark takes it in his hands and promises to keep it safe.

Against a thousand odds, in a moment of peace within a storm of chaos, he finally accepts her. And Taryn feels like she belongs for the first time since she left the safety of the Red Keep. (No one will hurt you here with me. I’ll protect you.)

wattpad / ao3 / playlist

━━ ACT ONE; northern attitude

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen* / twenty

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter Three

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

word count: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

Taryn’s room was precisely how she remembered it. She had last been in Winterfell a moon before her eleventh name day, her trip cut short by her mother’s insistence that her daughter should come back home. Winterfell had enchanted Taryn since the first day she arrived. The castle felt far more homely to Taryn than the Red Keep or Casterly Rock did. But what Taryn truly held envy for was the Stark family. They were far more tight-knit and loyal to their blood than Taryn’s family had ever been. She held such love for her siblings, sweet Myrcella, little Tommen, even Joffrey — despite his wretched ways, he was still her little brother. Taryn knew her parents held no love for each other, she would have had to be blind or stupid to not see it. The only bonds Taryn possessed that could be akin to the familial bonds that were so strained and lacklustre in her own family, were the friendships she had with her ladies in waiting — four girls Taryn had known since girlhood, four girls Taryn trusted with her life.

When Robb left her to get settled, his presence was quickly replaced by Taryn’s ladies. Taryn had been surrounded by Erielle Lannister and Alyssa Baratheon, young cousins of her parents’ families, since her siblings had been born. Then came Lana Tyrell, a grandniece of Olenna Tyrell, and Jeyne Westerling, whose family were Lannister bannermen. They busied around her now, helping to unpack Taryn’s trunks. They were there to serve her, Taryn’s mother had drilled that into her, but Taryn valued her ladies far more than that.

There were still hours until the welcome feast by the time Erielle finished slipping pins into Taryn’s carefully made updo. Lana stood behind Taryn, tying the corset threads of her gold dress securely before sweeping furs over the Princess’s shoulders.

Alyssa took Taryn’s hands. “Let’s explore. It has been half of summer since we’ve last seen snow.”

Taryn grinned. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

The Princess felt ten years old again, chasing around the old stone castle. Last time she visited, her company was far smaller, but now every corridor in Winterfell was flooded with rushing servants and marching guards. It made the castle feel like a grey and colder mirror of the Red Keep, not the northern wonderland she remembered from being a child.

They found their way to the courtyard. Outside, under more eyes, Taryn tensed her shoulders. As far as she enjoyed being girlish and running about giggling, Gods forbid Taryn’s family — or worse, the Starks — saw her acting childish. She had already let her heart guide her the way North, but the time to play was passing. Taryn had been betrothed to Robb Stark since she was ten years old; she would be Lady of Winterfell one day. (It felt far more real now she was standing back in the castle’s wall. At home, in King’s Landing, she could almost forget her fate.) There was a time to be the girl Taryn longed to be, and there was time to be the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms — it was an easy balance to maintain, as long as Taryn remained focused.

Suddenly, Jeyne gave a shriek, the sound muffled by her hands covering her mouth. Taryn’s attention snapped to the girl — and where she was looking. Inside the kennels, where Winterfell’s hounds slept, were wolves. Seven darling pups of grey, brown, black and pure white.

“Those aren’t normal wolves,” Alyssa whispered. “But it must be impossible. Direwolves do not live south of the Wall.”

Taryn walked forwards, shaking off the clutches of her friends. In the last letters she and Robb had passed before Taryn and her family began their journey north, Robb had told her pages about the litter of direwolves the Starks had found in the woods. Taryn had not truly believed him until now. A smile rose to her face like the morning sun. The pups were days old when Robb sent his letter describing each of his siblings’ wolves, and soon they would grow bigger than any dog.

The pups played together while Lana tugged on Taryn’s sleeve and begged her not to get too close.

“I promise they won’t hurt you.”

Taryn and her ladies turned to see Robb approaching them. The afternoon sunlight made his red curls glow. By Taryn’s lead, the girls curtsied to the heir of Winterfell, and Robb bowed to the Princess. (It had taken two years of writing for Taryn to convince Robb to stop calling her “Your Grace” at the top of every letter.)

“Have you decided which wolf is who?” Robb asked, standing at Taryn’s side to watch the little wolves.

Taryn nodded. She pointed out Robb’s wolf first. Grey Wind, a smoky grey pup with bright golden eyes. “The others watch him. They follow him like little ones look to their eldest sibling.”

Grinning, Robb bent down on one knee and called Grey Wind to him. The wolf ran over eagerly but paused to consider Taryn. She lowered to be closer to Grey Wind’s height and reached out a hand, which the wolf sniffed at, before licking at Taryn and allowing her to stroke his head.

Taryn could not hide her own grin. “He’s beautiful. They all are.” Grey Wind seemed to understand her and nuzzled against her.

“Are you looking forward to the feast tonight?” Robb asked. Grey Wind ran back to his siblings and Robb took Taryn’s hand, helping her to her feet.

The Princess gave a shrug. “It will be nice to see your family again, properly. But I’ve never been so fond of feasts.” A red flush painted her cheeks. “I prefer quiet evenings.”

“Then perhaps I will find you later and free you. I’ll find a nicer way for us to spend the night.”

Taryn smiled at his kindness. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

Robb mirrored her smile. “I’ll see you later.”

The feast was as lively as Taryn had anticipated. It was not the noise and the food that she found wretched, or the company of her siblings, it was the rowdiness that came with alcohol. At the top of the hall, beneath the high table where Lord and Lady Stark hosted Taryn’s parents, Taryn sat with her three siblings and the Stark children. She made polite conversation with the eldest Stark daughters, Alys — who Taryn was glad to see again — and Sansa, who had been too young to join in their games last time Taryn had visited. It took three quick glasses of sweet wine to begin to dull Taryn’s senses enough to start to enjoy herself.

Hours passed and courses of food were devoured, little Tommen tugged on his eldest sister’s sleeve. Taryn looked down at her brother. “Are you alright?”

“Do we have to stay at the feast all night?” the little Prince asked.

Taryn shook her head. “Of course not. We can leave whenever you like.”

“Can we go now then?”

Taryn stood and picked Tommen up under his arms to lift him off the bench.

Myrcella had been sitting on Tommen’s other side. “Can I come too?” she asked, pushing her plate away.

Taryn smiled and reached out for her sister. “Always.”

Taryn kept a tight hold of her brother and sister’s hands as they weaved through Winterfell’s great hall. Past the singing bard, their father and his drunks, and the guards by the door. The cold night air made the Baratheon siblings’ cheeks turn red. Also outside they found Joffrey. Taryn had not seen him slip away from the feast.

“Joff, you should stay inside. You’ll catch your death out here,” Taryn warned. Myrcella and Tommen skipped on in the direction of their guest rooms.

Joffrey gave a bitter laugh. “Always the mother. Good thing you’ve had plenty of practice with those two before Robb Stark gives you your own wolf pack. Are you looking forward to it, sister? To be bedded by a wolf?”

Taryn wondered what could have gone wrong for her brother to turn out so rotten when Myrcella and Tommen had always been so sweet. Whatever it was, Taryn was happy to watch Joffrey saunter away from her. She wished she could wipe that smirk from his face. Gathering the fabric of her skirt in her hands, Taryn raised the hem of her dress off the ground and followed after her youngest siblings.

The three siblings settled in Taryn’s room. Myrcella and Tommen, in their nightclothes, nestled warm under the blankets of the bed, while Taryn sat the foot of the bed

“Tar,” Myrcella whispered. Her emerald eyes glitter in the glow of the smouldering fire Taryn had tried to light. “You won’t leave us forever will you?”

“I would never,” Taryn promised. “I will live here once I marry, but I will visit often. And one day, you two will also marry wonderful people and have your own castles.”

“Can you tell us a story, Taryn?” Tommen asked, tucked up to his chin in the warm furs. “You’re the best at stories.”

Taryn chuckled. “Then what story would you like to hear tonight?”

Robb found Taryn outside, bright as a midnight sun. He watched her walking back towards the great hall from the guest quarters. The clouds had opened to release a gentle fall of snow upon the castle. Robb found himself staring at Taryn again as snowflakes landed in her golden hair. Six years had not taken the wonder from her eyes as she grinned, twirling alone in the snow. Robb felt as though he was intruding. He turned to leave, to return to the feast and wait for her there, but gravel crunched heavily underfoot and Taryn found him.

The Princess blushed scarlet. Her figure straightened, ever regal. The glow in her brown eyes dissipated. Disappointment and guilt spread through Robb as ice froze a lake. “I’m sorry,” he spoke quickly to get ahead. “I should not have disturbed you–”

Taryn shook her head, brushing snow out of her tightly wound southern-styled hair. “No, I’m sorry. I was acting improper. It’s just–”

“–Been a long time? I know.” Robb came closer to her and offered Taryn his arm. “You don’t have to hide from me. We can dance in the snow all night if you want to.”

Taryn giggled and took Robb’s arm. “That would be far nicer than spending the rest of the night inside.”

Robb took them in the direction of the godswood, where he knew it would be quietest. “The men are going hunting tomorrow. Would you come with me?”

“Oh.” The pinkness returned to Taryn’s cheeks. “I cannot ride. I was never taught. My mother thought my skills should be better tuned elsewhere.”

“I could teach you.” Perhaps his tone was too eager. Taryn had not been here a day yet. They entered the woods, there were enough gaps in the dark clouds to allow moonlight to shine through and illuminate the trees.

The Princess smiled — the same smile she had given Grey Wind earlier in the afternoon, the same smile that came in the snowfall. “I would love that. It’s suffocating sometimes to be in the castle, unable to go where I like because I need a carriage to take me around.” She shuddered.

“I won’t keep you caged in,” Robb said. “You’ll be safe and free here at Winterfell. I promise.”

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter Four

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

note: happy valentine's day!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

Taryn awoke late in the morning. Winterfell was half empty with the men having left on their hunt at dawn. Not wanting to disturb her siblings from their restful slumber when Taryn returned from her walk with Robb, which had lasted late until the feast was ending, Taryn had borrowed her little sister’s bed for the night. And while Tommen attended sparring lessons with Joffrey and the Stark boys, Myrcella and Taryn sat in on the girls’ sewing lesson.

Having had a needle poised between her fingers since she was six, Taryn had spent many hours hunched over fabric and it showed. She had the most experience and her embroidery was the best, but Sansa Stark was giving Taryn a run for her money.

Listening to Septa Mordane’s instructions, Taryn had taken a seat beside Alys, Robb’s twin sister, and her friend Elia Dayne, a Dornish girl who was even further from home than Taryn was. The Stark’s septa was sat with Myrcella, admiring the little Princess’ crooked stitches. Taryn smiled when her sister showed off her proud grin. Alys’ sister Arya sat with Taryn, Alys and Elia too, to get as far away from her sister Sansa as possible.

Arya gave a sudden huff, frowning at the crooked stitches she had made. Taryn looked down at the Stark girl. “You’re doing better than I did at your age.” It was a small lie, but Taryn hoped Arya wouldn’t notice.

Arya looked at the Princess and the neat embroidery in her hands. “That’s not true.”

Septa Mordane turned away from Myrcella. “Arya! Don’t be rude to the Princess.”

Taryn laughed. “It’s quite alright. Here, would you like some help?”

She watched Arya glance past her, looking at Alys who gave her an encouraging nod, and Sansa who was occupied with her circle of friends. Arya gave a stiff nod. “Look really close at the tiny holes in the fabric. I used to scribble a line in pencil so I could see where I was stitching. Don’t squint too much or you’ll hurt your eyes, but try making smaller stitches like this…” Taryn took Arya’s small hand and demonstrated, poking the needle through the fabric, pulling through and out the other end.

It took a couple of tries and then Taryn let Arya make her own stitches, which turned out much neater. Arya grinned. “Thank you.”

Their lesson was interrupted by Robb. All the girls stopped their work and turned to look at him.

“Septa, might I steal Princess Taryn for a short while?” he asked, smiling over at Taryn. Robb’s smile made his blue eyes glow brighter. It was infectious, Taryn found herself smiling too. She did not realise a simple smile could make her heart beat a little faster, but Robb’s did and she wasn’t quite sure why.

Septa Mordane made no complaint. Taryn set her needlework down and left with the heir of Winterfell. They walked outside together, Taryn’s hand fitting in the crook of Robb’s arm.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself,” she said as they walked towards the stables.

Robb laughed. “I’m sure you won’t. Besides, there is no one here to see you.” He motioned around the courtyard, still empty. Robb had skipped the hunt in favour of seeing her. The thought made Taryn’s heart thudder. They would have their whole lives together, yet Robb still offered to spend time with her now. Taryn was grateful — she wanted to spend time with him too.

There were still a few horses left in the stables — old and tame, Robb called them. “Not as fast for hunting anymore, but perfect for learning with.”

Taryn realised how little she actually knew about horses. She tried to help Robb saddle the horse he picked for her — soft brown with one white ear — but he gave her an apple to feed the horse instead.

“It’ll keep her calm,” Robb explained. “Let her get used to you. And don’t be afraid.”

Taryn giggled as the horse ate the apple from her open palm. She ran a hand up and down the horse’s face. Once the saddle and reins were secured, Robb called Taryn to his side. She had seen many men mount a horse before but now she had to try, she didn’t know how they did it.

Robb manoeuvred himself so he stood behind Taryn. “Left foot in the stirrup. Put your hands here. And pull yourself up.”

“What if I fall?”

“You won’t. I’ve got you.” Robb set his hands on Taryn’s hips. She gripped the edge of the saddle tighter, warmth growing on her cheeks, as he helped hoist her up onto the horse. “There you go! How do you feel?”

Taryn looked around the courtyard. “Tall. Very tall.”

They both laughed. “I’ll ask Alys if you can borrow some of her riding gear next time.”

“Next time?”

“You can’t learn a new skill and only use it once,” Robb said. “Now–” He touched her knee, fingers splayed against her thigh. Taryn stared down at him. “You have to sort of hug the horse with your legs, but not too tightly. And hold the reins like this.” Robb demonstrated and held Taryn’s hands in his as he adjusted her grip. “You’re doing great. Let’s get you moving.”

Robb was very patient with her — especially when she cried out as soon as the horse moved, scared she was about to fall. (“I can’t sit on the horse with you to keep you safe. But you won’t fall, even if you do I’ll catch you.”)

He showed her how to walk and trot and steer until Taryn felt sure enough to guide her horse in circles without Robb holding onto the reins and walking beside them. It did not take long for the fear that had clung to Taryn’s chest when she first sat atop the horse to dissipate. That was until a direwolf ran through the courtyard and gave the horse a terrible fright, making Taryn cry out in surprise — thank the gods, Robb was quick to settle the horse before she could try and throw Taryn from the saddle.

“Are you alright?” Robb asked. One hand on the reins, one hand on Taryn’s thigh to steady her.

Taryn nodded, her fingers tense against the reins.

Robb was looking up, eyes searching against the walls of the castle. “Bran!”

Taryn’s head turned to see Brandon Stark climbing the wall above the stable. “I’m sorry!” he called down. He whistled to his wolf — still without a name — and scurried away over the wall, the pale wolf running along the ground behind him.

Robb chuckled. “I don’t expect any horse will grow used to a direwolf any time soon. Hopefully Grey Wind will forgive me for not taking him with us.”

Taryn gave a puzzled expression as Robb disappeared back into the stable and re-emerged a moment later with another horse, saddled and ready. “Where are we going?” she asked as he mounted the horse with practised ease.

“The Wolfswood is two miles away,” Robb explained. “We will start in that direction and see how you’re doing.”

***

Taryn quickly found that she adored riding. Even at a slower pace to get her used to the way the horse moved under her, she found herself grinning into the breeze. Hair tousled and her legs burning, Taryn felt free. She could not help but feel disappointed when she and Robb returned to Winterfell before their fathers came back from their hunt.

Robb helped her down when they arrived back at the stables. Fire spread across Taryn’s body when Robb gripped her waist to steady her in her dismount. When he let her go she felt cold, and Taryn never wanted to feel cold again.

“You’re a natural,” Robb told her.

“I just had a good teacher.” Taryn grinned.

“You’ll have to teach me something next.”

The Princess laughed. “I’m sure all my lessons would keep you very interested,” she said sarcastically. “But I dare say your sisters would find it amusing if you took part in their sewing lessons.”

“Gods.” Robb shared her laughter. “Alys made me once. I pricked myself so many times I thought Septa Mordane would give me a thimble for every finger.”

A guard approached them as Taryn and Robb walked away from the stables — one of Taryn’s mother’s personal staff.

“Princess.” The guard gave a stiff bow. Taryn and Robb turned. “Your mother requests to see you.”

An eager smile graced Taryn’s lips. She turned back to Robb, dropping into a small curtsey. “Thank you for the lesson.” She fell into step with the guard to go find her mother.

The North and Cersei Lannister were not compatible. Taryn’s mother preferred finer things, the cold and misty damp of Winterfell was not for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If Taryn did not have to adapt to the North now she would spend her life there, she would surely share her mother’s tolerance. Dressed in scarlet and fur, Cersei brought her eldest child into her arms once Taryn arrived.

The Queen scrunched her nose up, cutting their warm embrace short as she held Taryn at arm’s length to study her. Tousled curls, mud splatters across her dress, she did not look very ladylike, much less like a princess. “You smell of horse.”

Taryn gave a guilty smile. “Robb taught me how to ride.”

Cersei reclaimed her seat by the window, Taryn sat next to her. It was warm inside, a welcome contrast to the cold morning. “Just do not turn wild while you are living here,” Cersei warned. “There will be enough Starks in King’s Landing without my daughter turning into a wolf.”

Despite her mother’s seriousness, Taryn managed a chuckle. “I am a Baratheon and a Lannister first. I cannot see myself turning wild that quickly.”

Cersei’s eyes softened. She looked away from Taryn, turning back to the window to look down upon the world around them. “Will he make you happy?”

After five years of letters and the feeling of wind in her hair, Taryn nodded with utter certainty. “I think so.”

The Queen took her daughter’s hands tightly in her own. “If you have any doubt about him, even for a second, you will tell me.”

“Robb is a good man, Mother. He’ll be good to me.”

“You have a soft heart, my sweet girl.” Cersei cupped Taryn’s face in her hands. They looked so similar, except for their eyes. Taryn was always jealous of her siblings and her mother’s emerald eyes. “I pray it doesn’t destroy you.”

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart is so good!! I am usually a bit ambivalent about OC fics, because at times I feel like they can become very idealised (like some perfect, powerful character with no depth or flaws) but I think that Taryn is a super interesting character and adds a lot to the story. I can’t wait to read your new chapters🫶

i'm so late to this omg. but anon this made my whole week 🥹

thank you SO MUCH!! 💞✨️ it's the greatest joy of my life knowing people like my fics.

as someone who says she loves oc fics, i do have to completely agree with you. i love ocs but i've found a lot of fics that (imo) follow that too idealised character. and that's a massive turn off for me lmao. what i'm currently writing for lionheart is the first draft, so i'm still uncovering taryn's character, but i really hope she doesn't fall into those unrealistic and too-perfect tropes.

i'm so glad you like taryn — i hope you enjoy the rest of her story!! 🥹🫶

lionheart currently has eleven chapters posted on ao3.

[heartofmortis]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter Two

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Robb Stark was eight when he learned what real summer felt like. In the aftermath of a rebellion in the Iron Islands led by his father and the King, Robb and his twin sister, Alys, travelled to King’s Landing with their father to attend Robert Baratheon’s Name Day celebration. Spring had passed and the snows around Winterfell were low. Robb spent half the journey complaining about how he wanted to ride his horse next to his father while their septa told him to pay attention to their lessons. Watching the country change shape along the Kingsroad did keep Robb moderately interested — glimpsing the lands outside of the North was rather novel. Alys shared Robb’s adventurous instinct and they ran amok, hiding between trees and tents of their father’s company every time they stopped for a meal. But there were only so many games two eight year olds could play.

For all Ned Stark had told his children about King’s Landing and the Red Keep, Robb found it all rather underwhelming. There was no grand welcome for the Starks when they arrived. The city streets were too busy and the air was too hot.

Robb and Alys were brought before the Iron Throne — the hideous, towering King’s Seat made with a thousand melted swords — to be presented to King Robert Baratheon, their father’s oldest friend. Robb was aware he had been named after the King (just as his half-brother Jon had been named after Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King). Perhaps Robb’s father saw greatness in his son’s future, a boy worth naming after a king. Robert Baratheon was not the formidable giant Robb had expected to meet. Robb could imagine the warrior king that had won the throne and broke the Greyjoy Rebellion and hoped he would never fight in a war.

The Starks were escorted to their guest rooms for the duration of their stay. Alys and Robb’s rooms lay next to each other. Before Robb could finish unpacking his chest, Alys snuck into her brother’s room. She laid back on his bed, Robb made a fuss when his sister got her boots on the sheets.

“I want to explore. Will you come with me?”

Robb did not hesitate before he nodded, a grin spread across his face. Unpacking was boring anyway.

The twins barrelled through red corridors, ducking under maids and Kingsguards. The castle was theirs for the taking.

The Red Keep was bigger than any of the Northern castles the twins had visited before, full of labyrinthine corridors. A maze without a centre for Robb — but Alys seemed to know where she wanted to be.

Robb and Alys were stopped in their tracks when Robb almost tumbled into a girl. She was their age, if younger by a few moons, dressed in pink and gold with dark blonde curls. A huge black cat with a grumpy expression was clasped in her arms. Alys recognised the girl first. Robb felt a winter chill blow through him, tethering him frozen in place. The girl was pretty like a colourful bloom in the snow. She looked at the twins, wide-eyed and curious. She held the kind of warmth the North only felt during fleeting spring days. Alys punched her twin brother in the stomach and Robb mimicked her bow.

Taryn Baratheon smiled, a pink glow on her freckle-dappled cheeks. “You must be the Stark twins. Father told me about you.”

“Can you take us to see the dragons?” Alys asked quickly, eagerly rocking on the balls of her feet. “I thought I knew the way but…”

The Princess paused, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The cat in her arms jumped free — he rounded the twins, giving judgemental looks, and brushed against Alys’s legs before darting away. “They’re all underground now,” Taryn explained. “We aren’t supposed to visit them, but I know the way.”

It was evening by the time they entered the cellar room beneath the castle. Golden hour light faded, leaving the underground room in growing shadows. Robb had not been as enthusiastic as Alys and Jon about House Targaryen in all their lessons, but his heart thundered in his chest, mouth agape when he saw the nineteen dragon skulls.

The smallest dragon skulls were even smaller than direwolves, tiny dog-sized creatures but their teeth were still dagger-sharp. As the three children ventured down the room, the dragons grew bigger. Taryn explained that many of them were unknown. Robb wondered how magical it must have been to live centuries ago and see dragons patrolling the sky. The largest dragon skulls were those of Meraxes, ridden by Queen Rhaenys, Vhagar, ridden by Queen Visenya, and Balerion the Black Dread, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. Most dragons have more than one rider, but later riders paled in comparison to the conquerors.

“This one is Vermax,” Taryn told Robb, pointing to another dragon skull halfway down the room. “Ridden by King Jacaerys, First of his Name. He married a Stark. An Arya, I think.”

Robb turned to his sister to tell her that one of their ancestors had married a dragonrider, but Alys had stepped away. She was distracted by another dragon.

“That’s Syrax,” Taryn said quietly to Robb. “She was ridden by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Alys touched Syrax’s skull and smiled wistfully. “She was yellow.”

Taryn tensed. “I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them. I’m not supposed to come down here after dark.”

Robb approached his sister, whose stormy eyes still gazed wistfully at the dragons, and touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchens. See if they have lemon cakes.”

Finally, Alys looked away and nodded. She cracked a smile. “But don’t tell Sansa — she would be upset if we had cake without her.”

Together, the children left the cellar room. Robb stared at the dragon skulls for as long as possible as Taryn closed the door. To see a dragon fly over Winterfell… He sighed sadly and wished there was more magic left in the world.

Taryn showed them to the kitchens. Alys skipped on ahead, wondering out loud about how wonderful it must be to live in the Red Keep. Taryn was happy to fuel her daydreams. They scurried up a spiral staircase, for once Robb did not challenge his sister to a race. Which was probably a good thing as Alys was ahead and she did not see him trip up the stairs. Robb threw his hands out, scraping his skin against the rough stone to catch himself. Taryn looked at him and Robb turned red, embarrassed to make a fool of himself in front of the princess.

Taryn helped him up. Blood from a small cut on Robb’s palm smeared onto Taryn’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a little blood. Here–” She sat them down on the step and took the hem of her dress to dab away the blood.

Robb clenched his fist and moved away. “You’ll ruin your dress.”

Taryn took his hand back, gently uncurling his fingers. “That doesn’t matter.”

She dabbed at the thin beads of blood, holding for a few seconds. They waited as the blood stopped spilling. “I’ll ask one of the cooks to help you.” Taryn stood and reached out to take Robb’s other hand. He took her hand gratefully and stood. “Don’t worry,” Taryn added, “We all fall sometimes.”

Dawn arrived with the northern sun trying to claw its way through soft grey clouds. The royal carriage crawled towards Winterfell in such a slow fashion that Taryn was growing restless. She was quite tired of these early mornings that had plagued them all for a month. Having already thumbed through the books her Uncle Tyrion had allowed her to borrow for the journey, the Baratheon Princess could tell you everything about Dragonglass but nothing about how to entertain her younger siblings who were even more bored than she was. The evenings were usually easier to sit through, when everyone relaxed after a day’s travel and Taryn could finally source a moment of peace.

Taryn had visited the northern reaches of Westeros before, but only once, when she was ten. She had travelled by herself, with only guards and ladies-in-waiting by her side — it was the furthest she had ever travelled without her  mother. That time, Taryn had taken a boat from King’s Landing to White Harbour, for a quicker journey, and made the unfortunate discovery that she suffered from violent seasickness. Her last experience was part of the reason her family was now making their journey along the Kingsroad instead of quicker paths — Taryn’s mother had insisted that her eldest daughter's comfort be a top priority — as well as her father’s love of hunting, which had their party taking frequent breaks for expeditions deep into the woods. Taryn would not have minded the hunting trips if her younger brother, Joffrey, had not brought her a rabbit that he had killed and showed her how to skin it for supper. (She had screamed then and eaten nothing but bread and vegetables for two weeks after, even when any other kind of meat was placed in front of her.)

“We’re almost there, I promise,” Cersei Lannister said as she considered the tired expressions across her three children.

Taryn stared out of the window at all the men on their horses. Even though she couldn’t ride, she wanted to be out there with her father, her brother, her uncle On horseback, Taryn could go anywhere and move at her own pace. But in the carriage, she was stuck. Her mother and two youngest siblings (Myrcella and Tommen) were never bad company as she loved them all so dearly; she almost felt guilty when she dreamed of having her own space again. But when Winterfell finally came into view, Taryn’s complaints washed from her mind like a summer storm, and she knew the long journey would have been worth it.

Robb Stark stood in line with his family to greet their King and his family. With his father on his left and his twin sister on his right, Robb was the Heir of Winterfell and he needed to prove himself worthy of his place. As stoic and noble as he tried to present himself, Robb could not calm his thunderous heart. He almost trembled with anticipation. The King’s visit to Winterfell was the greatest honour, but it also came with the promise of a new chapter and the return of the spring to his winter.

He tried not to glance sideways at his twin, Alys, as he knew she would take the piss out of his hopeful demeanour in all her annoying and particular ways. And as King Robert rode through the gates with his eldest son and second child, Prince Joffrey, and their Kingsguard and carriages, nothing could dampen Robb's high spirit.

His eyes searched as the riders and carriages poured into the confines of Winterfell, almost completely distracted from the King coming forth to greet Robb’s parents, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell: Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Robb counted the seconds until the formalities would conclude. And then he saw her again. It had been more than five years since Robb had last seen the Princess. More than five years since their fathers had decided their eldest children should marry when they reached better ages.

Dressed in pale pink silk, golden curls like sun rays, Taryn Baratheon followed her mother out of their carriage, which could scarcely fit through the gates of Winterfell. Soft as a spring bloom and thrice as sweet, Taryn had always been beautiful. Robb watched as she helped her siblings down from the carriage too, holding her youngest brother under his arms so she could spin him around and make him laugh before setting him down. Taryn’s brown eyes reached Robb's blue, and he tried to look away before she could find him staring at her, but she was too quick. Taryn gave him a bright smile and a small wave — it took everything for Robb to not break into a grin.

Finally, the introductions came to a close. Robb and Taryn’s fathers went off in the direction of the crypt and the maids and servants snapped back into action to tend to the royal family. As soon as he could move without appearing rude, Robb closed the distance between himself and Taryn. She was ordering their septas and handmaidens to bring her siblings into the castle when he approached (although ordering was too strong a word for the politeness and care Taryn showed her staff). Robb knew others would not be so kind, but this was Taryn’s unshakable nature. When her siblings were taken care of, Taryn turned to search for Robb and beamed when she found him before her.

Robb bowed. “Your Grace.”

Taryn giggled, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. “Please, you don't need to be so formal.”

Though it had been almost six years since they had last breathed the same air, they had not been lax with communication — Robb and Taryn had written to each other almost every month in the years they had been apart. Their first meeting had left both of them hopeful for the future, even though they were only ten and eleven, but the letters had allowed Robb to truly begin to know Taryn. Neither of them was marrying a stranger, Robb was grateful for that at least.

Robb noticed her fingers fidgeting with the chain around her neck.

“The castle seems bigger than I remember,” Taryn said, staring up at Winterfell with wonder in her eyes. Then she looked at Robb.  “And you too, of course.”

Breaking into a short laugh, Robb asked, “Is that such a surprise?”

Taryn shook her head. “I was taller but you were so much faster than me — I hated that.” She giggled. “I felt like I was always chasing after you.”

Robb stretched out a hand to take the bag Taryn had strung over her shoulder, and she allowed him to take it. “You’re staying in your old room, if that’s alright?”

Taryn smiled and nodded, tucking blonde curls behind her ears. “Of course. As long as you don’t challenge me to a race this time.”

They both laughed and began walking across the courtyard together. Robb grinned. “Don’t hold your breath.”

[heartofmortis]

revamping my robb fic into its true oc form 🫶

chapters coming very soon!!

✶ Lionheart

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

TAGS: major character death, friends to lovers, slow burn, childhood friends, arranged marriage, one bed trope, big old tragedy, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, canon compliant (😔), pregnancy/childbirth, robb as a dad!!

NOTE: revamping this fic on here because i have noooo energy to edit my chapters into second person, sorry gang. my robb stark brainrot is endless and i need more people to write for him pleaseeeeeee.

TIMELINE: season / book one onwards. a mix of show & book canon!

SUMMARY: A soft heart is no curse.

Taryn Baratheon is nothing like her parents. Her mother’s first-born, most deeply adored. Born in the ashes of a victorious rebellion, Taryn is the brightest spring child in King’s Landing. Free as the breeze whistling through the trees, love burns in her veins like sun rays. (You’re too good for this world, her mother whispers as she holds her daughter close. No one will hurt you. You’re safe here with me.)

The Pearl of King’s Landing, they called her. Sun-bright and untouchable. To be beloved by the Smallfolk is a rare gift, and Taryn bears it proudly. A little doe besides her father, a Great Stag, and her mother-lion.

A soft heart is no curse. Taryn believes it until she spends a month travelling North with her family, a trip that spins her world on its axis and won’t let her come home. When she is left alone in a vast castle with no true company, her pretty heart can only be a curse. No one trusts a naive girl raised in the lion’s den — not even when steel cuts across her palms, blood soaking her fingers as she tries to protect a boy she hardly knows. Taryn’s mother was the only one who allowed her to be herself. (The North does not find courage in the kindness of princesses.)

Taryn Baratheon’s soft heart is a curse until the day Robb Stark takes it in his hands and promises to keep it safe.

Against a thousand odds, in a moment of peace within a storm of chaos, he finally accepts her. And Taryn feels like she belongs for the first time since she left the safety of the Red Keep. (No one will hurt you here with me. I’ll protect you.)

wattpad / ao3 / playlist

━━ ACT ONE; northern attitude

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