Helli ! they/them 22 Queer! currently taking psychic damage so I don't write much anymore. chronically Ill gang I'm sorry I don't write when I say I will :( Ask Anything! We're playing barbies here anything goes bbgirls!!! You can always ask, i dont bite!
fandom etiquette as a whole died when people who didn’t grow up on fandoms became stans during lockdown, yes, but why am i seeing people openly mocking fics on twitter. why am i seeing screenshots of fics with captions like “bro what is this 😭.” why am i seeing people mock fic writers for not knowing how sports or theater or college or any other organization operates in the real world.
“college is absolutely nothing like this” “why are we writing four people on the team scoring a hat trick in one game” “so tech work is nothing like this, hope that helps!”
if you don’t like a fic, and if you can’t suspend your belief enough to enjoy a fic that exaggerates or ignores real-world orgs, you don’t have to read it. you don’t have to screenshot it and put it on blast for twitter. you don’t have to post a link to it in the replies. the back button is literally there on your phone. it’s not giving baby’s first fandom anymore, it’s giving entitled asshole and it isn’t as cute as you think it is.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.0k
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Death, Mourning, Swearing, Smut
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so we're all reeling after that episode right? my theory was confirmed that raymun is in fact a freak and a slut, can't believe i got this out as quick as i did, ira parker works hard but i work harder. never fear this series will be continuing, as well as others in the future, i would never leave y'all stranded like that <3. dividers done by @cafekitsune!!!
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
You did not sleep in the Fossoway’s tent.
As much as you were certain Raymun would have preferred to see you at his side, you could not erase the picture of your sister's tear stricken face out of your time.
It was late by the time you arrived at your family’s tent, the usual buzzing sound of the camp grounds having been replaced with a dull, mournful silence.
The realm was already beginning the process of mourning its prince, murdered by his own blood on the field.
It seemed the only people that remembered your brother’s death were you and your family.
It was quiet when you pushed past the entrance, the soft crackles of the fire accompanying the silence.
The first person you caught sight of was your father, hunched over the table as he gripped a goblet of wine tight between his fingers.
It was the first time you had seen him for the entirety of the tourney, the first time you had been him for almost four years, and he barely even lifted his head to look upon you.
He had been this way when mother died, he’d locked himself in his chambers as had to have food forced upon him; he didn’t come back out for almost a week.
Perhaps it was just the nature of yourself and your family, isolation in times of grief, ironic considering the moniker of the bee.
An animal that worked as one colony, staying together in times of distress, it was odd that you all did the exact opposite.
You walked past your father as if you were a ghost, as if your presence was completely lost on him.
Heading straight for your sister’s sleeping area, you pulled the curtain across and heard her soft shaky breaths, catching sight of her as she laid on her bed with her back facing you.
You watched her shoulders shake, trying to keep herself composed; she hadn’t even changed out of the clothes she had worn during the trial, and you could see the remnants of what you hoped wasn’t blood across the fabric.
No words were spoken as you sat down on the bed, your weight causing the mattress to dip and alerting her to your presence.
She turned to look at you, her hand running over her swollen belly as she sighed deeply and turned her entire body to face you.
Laying down, you laid there facing each other and shut your eyes, allowing your fingers to entangle into her own.
Even without saying anything, you could hear the way she was beginning to cry once more, soft whimpers leaving her lips as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.
Taking a deep breath to slow her cries, Gwendolyn wiped the tears from her cheek and looked upon you.
“We will be taking his body back to Honeyholt..” she began, “After that I will leave for The Vale to bury my husband.”
She paused, looking at you expectantly for a moment before speaking again.
“Will you come with us?”
In truth, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead, you looked down at where your hands were intertwined together.
“If I am allowed.” you nodded.
“Your brother is dead,” she spoke, “I am sure your lady will allow you to visit your home so that you can put him to rest.”
“I am sure of that as well.” you nodded slowly.
“Lord Ashford has supplied us with mourning gowns..” she spoke, gesturing to the heavy black dresses that were hung over a chair, “I suppose he considered it to be thoughtful.”
Sitting up, you rested your back against the headboard, Gwendolyn soon following after you.
Running her hand over her bump, she sighed deeply and tilted her head back, looking up at the fabric roof of the tent.
“This will be the last I have of him..” she whispered.
You didn’t speak at first, only looked across at her as you felt your heart hurt at the sight.
“We are all but servants of the realm..” she sighed, “if the crown demands we die for their honour, then we do it.”
“You will carry on his memory,” you spoke, placing a hand on her shoulder, “You will tell your child how hard his father fought, how he put his name forward to defend what he believed was right.”
“And how our idiot brother wanted some of the glory for himself.”
Gwendolyn’s interruption made you both smile softly, a mournful smile but a smile nonetheless.
-
Stood at the coffin where your brother now lie, you watched as one of the many bees swarming around it came to rest upon your finger.
Its little legs tickled your skin, you brought your hand closer to your face to inspect the insect, noting the details of its furry body and iridescent eyes.
A small band of musicians played a mournful song, no merry tune was to be heard within this tent, not while you bid your brother goodbye.
The mourning dress that had been supplied by Lord Ashford almost covered you completely, the high neckline and long sleeves only leaving your face and hands uncovered.
Even your hair had been pulled up, not hanging freely or swinging from a loose braid, it was pulled into two braids that had been wrapped at the back of your head, leaving only two small strands to frame your face.
Lords and Ladies made their way in and out of the tent, bidding their respects to your brother before they left to head to The Hardyng’s tent to do the same for your sister's husband.
Gwendolyn had elected to stay at her husband’s side, remaining in The Hardyng’s tent while you stayed in your own with your father and eldest brother.
Your father was sat at the head of the table, dark circles under his eyes as he could only manage a nod to each set of condolences he received.
Thomas sat beside him, accepting the gestures where your father could not.
It would not be long before he would have to return to his own wife and children back at Honeyholt, where you would accompany him and the rest of the family for a time.
As the tent entrance was flipped open once more and your eyes flicked up to see Raymun standing there, it occurred to you that you had not even told him yet.
The first time you had seen him since last night, it seemed you were both fighting the reflex to embrace one another right then and there.
Simply returning your gaze back down to your brother’s coffin, you hung your head and let Raymun pass you to walk towards where your father and brother stood.
“My Lords, I wish to offer my condolences; Ser Humfrey fought well, and he fought with honour.”
Just as he had all day, your father nodded, barely looking Raymun in the eye.
“It is good of you to come, I know you did not know my brother well.” Thomas replied, offering him a kind smile as he rested a hand over your fathers shoulder.
The knowledge of you and Raymun’s attachment was only held by Gwendolyn and Humfrey, you realised, turning to look as Raymun turned to offer you a kind smile.
“Your sister became lady-in-waiting to my cousin when I was only seven-and-ten, It would be wrong to not offer my condolences to her own brother.”
Thomas turned his gaze to you, offering a look that told you that he seemed to be catching on rather quickly, even if he didn’t know to what extent.
“I am glad my sister was in the presence of such honourable men during her time at Cider Hall.”
Your brother’s words made your brows furrow, even more so Raymun’s as his mouth opened for a moment and closed.
“My lord, I’m beggin’ your pardon..” he began, “Her time?”
“She will return with us to Honeyholt,” Thomas clarified, “Father has demanded it.”
“She will not be returnin’ to Lynara’s service?”
As you listened to their conversation, you felt your breathing grow heavier, your hands beginning to shake.
“She’ll be stayin’ with us.” Your father suddenly spoke, his voice gruff and tense.
“At least until I’ve secured her a match.”
You had been completely under the impression that you were to return to Cider Hall following Humfrey’s funeral.
As Raymun turned to look at you once more, his eyes now giving himself away entirely, your father seemed to become aware that there was certainly something more between the two of you.
For a moment, you expected your father to begin cursing at Raymun, ordering him out of his tent.
But then your fathers gaze turned to you, softening as he looked at you, before turning back to Raymun.
“Now, a match with a knight..” he began, “A newly appointed Lord of his own house…”
Narrowing his gaze at you, your father gestured you over with a wave of his hand.
“Come here girl, stop pretendin’ that you haven’t been listening to every word since he walked in.”
Without wasting another moment, you scurried up to the table, clasping your hands in front of you as you watched your father shift his eyes back and fourth between you and Raymun.
“You,” your father began, pointing a ringed finger at Raymun, “You love my daughter?”
You sucked in a deep breath as your eyes flicked to Raymun, watching as he opened his mouth to speak before stopping.
“Do you think me, a fool?” your father snapped, turning to look at you.
“From the moment your sister began plantin’ seeds of Ser Raymun Fossoway in my ear, I knew, you're just like your mother, the both of you.”
For the first time in almost two whole days, your father smiled, the memory of your mother bringing joy across his face.
“Little schemers.”
In a bold move, you felt Raymun’s hand clasp your own, squeezing it tightly before he spoke.
“I have loved your daughter since she first came to Cider Hall, My Lord..”
Nodding his head, satisfied with Raymun’s answer, your father sat up in his chair, gesturing to Thomas with a nod of his head.
“Well then, if you are to be my son-by-law..”
Thomas reached for a dagger within a sheath beside him on the table, before walking around to hold it out to Raymun.
“You’ll need a sign of my approval.”
As Raymun took the dagger from Thomas’ hand, upon looking closer you realised just what it was that he had gifted to Raymun right before your eyes.
“Father..” you spoke softly, looking at your father with widened eyes.
“Had that commissioned for when Humfrey took a wife..” he began, the thought of never being able to see his youngest son married obviously paining him greatly.
“My lord.. I can’t-“ Raymun began.
“You can and you will.” Your father interrupted, “It’ll just gather dust in some sad old armoury otherwise..”
Raymun unsheathed the dagger, his eyes catching sight of the bee that had been detailed into the top of the blade.
“If I allow you to take my daughter’s hand, you will swear to me that you will protect her with your life, always honour her, and always remain loyal.”
Turning to look at you, Raymun smiled softly, bringing your intertwined hands up to his mouth to lay a soft kiss on the back of your hand.
“I am yours.” he spoke.
Hesitating for only a moment, your eyes flicked back to your father, watching as he nodded slowly at you.
Turning back to Raymun, you finally returned his smile.
“I am yours.”
-
“What will you do?” you asked.
Sat on the grass beside Raymun, in the same meadow where he had kissed you, you rested your head against his shoulder.
“I’ll wait for you at New Barrel.” he replied, taking a bite of the green apple in his hand.
“You could come with me to Honeyholt, see my home..”
Your offer had Raymun shaking his head.
“You need to bury your brother, it’s not my place.”
Choosing not to protest, you simply sighed softly as laid a kiss against his shoulder.
“I will try to return to you quickly.”
Looking down at you, Raymun could only smile, placing his finger underneath your chin and guiding your lips to his own.
“You’re not leavin’ till tomorrow.” he stated, “You’re still mine for tonight.”
Sighing softly against his lips, you kissed him once more, shutting your eyes as you rested your hand against his cheek.
“Lady Fossoway.” he tested the title on his tongue, smiling as he planted another kiss on your lips. “My lady.”
You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him with a soft push to his chest.
“Not yet.” you warned, “So you had best watch yourself, lest I change my mind.”
With your return to your family's tent as the sun finally began to set, you were informed that Thomas had extended an invitation to Raymun.
“Father thought it wise for your betrothed to join us for supper.”
So now here you sat, beside your father and brother in a yellow and black gown embroidered with little bees running up the sleeves.
The mood was more merry than it had been this morning, with your brother’s coffin placed in a carriage so that he was ready for the long journey tomorrow.
Gwendolyn had braided your hair again, allowing you to borrow some of her golden accessories even, claiming that you owed it to her to promise a fruitful marriage.
She had taken it upon herself to skip the small feast, and had excused herself back to The Hardyng’s tent.
It would take time, you thought, you had only lost a brother, but Gwendolyn had lost her husband as well as her brother.
Now she carried a child that would never know its father, a child she would have to raise on her own, it was understandable that she was still in a delicate state.
When Raymun had entered The Beesbury tent, his eyes had scanned across the table, searching until they fell on you, and a soft smile fell over his features.
Approaching the long table, he bowed his head respectfully to your father.
“My lord.” he greeted.
Your father gestured to the empty seat beside him and yourself, leaving Raymun no other spot to sit besides in between the pair of you.
A calculated decision by your father no doubt, a way to keep a keen eye on the pair of you easily.
As Raymun sat, he spared a quick smile in your direction, only for your father to slide a goblet of wine in front of him.
“Honeywine,” he began, “A step up from the horse piss they brew at Cider Hall.”
Letting out a small gasp, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes wide.
“Father!” you scolded softly, only for Raymun to laugh before taking a sip.
“They’ll soon have the cider of Newbarrel to compete with.” He responded.
“Good lad.” your father replied, nodding his head happily.
A small silence fell over you for a moment only for your father to pipe back up once more.
“I should tell you about the time she was bucked off her horse as a child.”
“Father..” you groaned deeply, hiding your face in your hands as Raymun chuckled.
“Please, My lord, I’d love to hear it.”
-
Bidding goodnight to Raymun had been easy enough, in front of your father, however, left things painfully formal.
As far as the length of your affections for Raymun, it seemed only you and him were privy to such things.
The customs of men dictated what was proper for a betrothed pair who had yet to be married, which had left you with a mere kiss on the hand from your love.
It was only inevitable that you snuck out of your tent once everybody had long been asleep.
You hadn’t been able to find sleep even when you tried, unable to rest as you thought of Raymun.
Finding the modest tent that he had set up wasn’t difficult, considering a large amount of the other tents on the campground were now gone.
If you had a chance to see Steffon before they left for Cider Hall, you would not hesitate to share your thoughts of his dishonourable betrayal.
“Raymun..” you whispered, stopping in front of the tent’s entrance.
Movement could be heard from inside, shuffling followed by a soft thud.
“Seven hells..” you heard him whisper, a smile coming to your face before he pushed open the entrance flap of his tent.
Letting you inside without hesitation, Raymun closed the tent’s flap behind you and turned to look at you as you smiled.
“Sneakin’ out at night and comin’ into my tent?” he questioned, crossing his arms yet returning your smile, “Goodness, My lady, what would your father say?”
His words held a teasing nature, poised in a way that told you that he knew exactly why you had sought him out so late into the night.
Stepping closer to you until the shoes of your shoes were nearly touching, he didn’t touch you, holding his arms crossed against his chest and tilting his head at you.
“You missed me that much, did you?”
His voice was deep, gravelled from the way you’d likely woken him up, it sent a shiver down your spine.
There were times when he was easy to laugh with, the way you’d known him since he was a young man and yet..
As he stood before you, a man, plain and simple, it made your stomach flip.
“If you don’t want me here, I'll leave.” you teased him, narrowing your eyes as you looked up at him, “Do you want me to leave?”
He didn’t have to answer, he responded in the way his hands came to rest on your waist, the way his thumbs brushed over your midsection.
His touch was delicate initially, but you could feel the way he was holding himself back.
“I won’t see you for at least a fortnight..” he sighed, bringing his face closer to yours, so close you could feel his breath upon your lips.
“How do you expect me to last this long without you..?”
Smiling, you brought your hands up to rest on his neck, pulling him down so that he met your lips.
Your kiss was soft, barely above a peck.
“Why do you think I snuck out from my tent to find you?”
With that, Raymun kissed you deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands began to roam your body.
He took a shameless grab at your arse, which made you gasp softly, his deep and bassy laughter ringing out into the night’s silence.
Shoving his chest, hard enough to have a soft ‘Oof!’ leaving his lips, he fell onto his bedroll, leaving you standing as he held himself up on his elbows.
You removed your cloak, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you in your thin cotton nightdress.
In all the momentum of the first time you and Raymun had shared a bed together, you had completely forgotten that he had yet to fully see you.
As you moved your hands to the thin strings at the top of your nightdress, Raymun shot up quickly, gripping your wrists to stop you.
“I’ll be doin’ that, thank you.” he said with a smirk.
Sighing softly and rolling your eyes, you let him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his fingers pull at the strings as if he were unwrapping a present.
Now falling loose enough to reveal your shoulders, Raymun’s hands travelling over the nightdress, his thumbs briefly stopping to run over your hardened peaks which he could see through the thin material.
He watched with a smile and eager eyes and your breath hitched, soft hums of pleasure leaving you as your eyes fluttered shut.
“Look at me, love.” he spoke softly, “Need to see your eyes most of all..”
The moment you opened your eyes was when he pulled the dress down, quicker than you were ready for; the dress pooled at your feet as the cold air hit your skin.
The shock made you gasp, reflex making you bring your arms up to cover yourself, which brought a sound of disapproval coming from Raymun.
He gripped your wrists, pulling them away from your body as he looked at you with little shame.
“I’ll not have my woman hidin’ herself from me..”
His tone was low, warning almost, his eyes darkened now with what you knew was a look of desire.
Running his hand from your shoulder down to your chest, he took one of your tits into his hand, teasing your nipple under his thumb as he hummed happily.
“Look at you..” he growled, his other hand reaching behind your back to lay a soft smack on your behind.
There was truly something about the way he almost.. objectified you.. looked upon you like you were a meal and he, a man starved.
Taking your hand, he walked backwards and kept his eyes on your as he led you to where his bedroll was.
He moved to sit, dragging you to follow and pulling you until you fell onto his lap.
You were naked before him, yet he remained fully clothed; it made you feel like a whore in a pleasure house, and yet you loved it.
His length was pressed against your heat, twitching under his pants that were no doubt getting absolutely soaked by your wetness as you began to grind shamelessly on his lap.
“Eager..” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips to stop your movements, which only served to make you whine softly.
“None of that..” he commanded, bringing his finger under your chin to make you look at him once more.
“Please..” you sighed, leaning forward to take his lips again in a deep kiss.
His hand was on the back of your head as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring one another as his other hand continued to play with your breast.
Breaking the kiss, Raymun brought his other hand to your chest, groping at your tits and pressing them together before he leaned his head down to lay open mouthed kisses across your skin.
Running your fingers over his scalp, your head tipped back and a soft cry left your lips when you felt him take one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the nerve as he began to grunt and groan.
“Can’t believe you get these gorgeous tits from me for so long…” he growled, “used to touch myself and think about what you looked like under your dress..”
The thought that he had desired you for so long, lusted after you in ways you hadn’t even thought, it made a fire light inside of you.
“Raymun..” you whispered.
“That’s it…” he whispered, bringing his gaze back up to you as he smirked.
Laying back, Raymun allowed you to continue straddling him, working to undo the strings of his braies and bring them down his hips.
As his cock sprang free, you moved to get off of him and lay on your back, only for him to stop you as you rested on your knees.
“I want you to ride me, love..” he whispered, tugging at his cock as he looked up at you.
“I..” you muttered unsurely, “I don’t know how…”
Somehow, that only made Raymun groan softly, the way you looked at him with those innocent doe eyes.
“I’ll show you..” he spoke softly, placing his hand at the base of his cock and taking your hand in his.
“Just.. lift yourself up..” he guided, letting you raise your hips until you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance.
“And slowly.. lower yourself…”
The feeling of him filling you slowly made your brows turn, taking every inch of his thick cock, the stretch burning slightly in the best possible way.
“Fuck.. that’s it…” he groaned, his eyes trained on the sight of your cunt slowly swallowing up every inch of his cock until you finally came to rest on his hips.
Your chest rose and fell harshly, your mouth hanging open as you got used to the new angle.
Even if he had fucked you once already before, this might as well had been the first time all over again, the way you felt him piercing entirely new parts of you; it was deeper, so much so you could almost feel him in your stomach.
“Can you feel that, love?” he groaned out, bringing his hand to rest against your stomach, using his palm to place a light pressure which had you gasping out, “Can you feel how deep inside you I am?”
For the first few moments, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, overwhelmed by the feeling of Raymun’s cock sitting right at the spongy entrance of your womb, every single little twitch sending a vibration through you.
Soon enough, when you finally began to wind your hips, rising from his length and bringing yourself back down, the pair of you settled into a slow rhythm.
A rhythm which had your hair hanging over your face and your mouth falling open as you panted and whined softly.
His hands rested on your hips, guiding your rhythm and squeezing your flesh hard enough that you knew you would likely find bruises there later.
Raymun couldn’t help but watch, watch the way our face curled in pleasure and your plush tits bounced softly as you rode him, rolling your hips in ways that had him grunting deeply and tipping his head back.
“Gods above.. You’re so beautiful..” he whispered, hands reaching up to grab at your breasts as he began to meet your hips with his own.
Seemingly needing to take over, you allowed him to lift you slightly with ease, moving so that his feet were flat in order for him to begin slamming his cock into from below.
The sound of flesh rapidly slapping against flesh was all that could be heard, the occasional soft cries emitting from your chest as you tried to be quiet.
The last thing that was needed was for some poor soul to wake up and find you missing, only to hear these sinful sounds emitting from your betrothed’s tent.
It would not have been difficult to put two and two together in such a scenario.
Unexpectedly, as his hand came down to rest against your stomach, his thumb reached down to begin rubbing fast circles along your clit.
He watched as your cries grew louder, only urging him further as you let out ragged breaths of effort, fucking up into you and working to bring you to the edge all at the same time.
With a pathetic cry of his name, you felt yourself coming undone, leaning forward until you had to brace your hands on the ground at either side of his head.
Continuing to ram his cock into you, Raymun held tightly onto your hips, keeping you in place as he began to feel his own release fast approaching.
While you were still pulsing around him and whimpering, he stilled his hips, letting out a choked groan as he painted your walls with his seed, so much so that it already began to leak out, mixing with the juices of your own release to leave a misty mix between your bodies.
Collapsing atop of Raymun, he held you in place as the last spurts of his release were freed inside of you, the pair of you panting deeply as you lay there.
After a few moments, a soft laugh left his lips, seeing the way your eyes were shut and you were still gripping his arm tightly, unwilling to let go.
“You’ll have to let go of me sometime, love..”
His words only had you shaking your head and gripping him tighter, which had him laughing and rubbing your back as he shushed you.
“I suppose a few more minutes can’t hurt..”
-
Thomas tugged at the saddle of his horse, doing up the final buckle as you stood by the carriage with Gwendolyn.
The sigil of the beehive was taken down as your fathers men deconstructed the tent and began to prepare for the long journey back to Honeyholt.
At least four days of riding awaited you, three if the weather was on your side.
Gwendolyn was still dressed in her black mourning dress, a thick black veil covering half of her hair as she stepped inside the carriage.
Turning around, you faced Raymun, noting the sad smile on his face.
“I will return to you soon, I swear it.” you spoke softly, taking his hand and bringing it to your face to rest against your cheek.
“I know you will,” he began, “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”
Pulling him in for an embrace, you seized the moment of your father not being in your line of sight and laid a soft kiss against his cheek.
“I am yours.” you whispered.
“I am yours.” he returned.
As you pulled away from one another, you stepped back, his hand still clasped tightly around your own until he had no choice but to let go.
He watched as you approached the entrance of the carriage, wondering how he was going to handle the next two or so weeks without you by his side.
Sitting down beside Gwendolyn, she stayed silent until the carriage door was closed and you began moving, bidding a silent goodbye to Ashford and all the memories that now cursed its grounds.
“I heard you sneak out last night.” she spoke calmly, but was fighting to hold back the smile on her face.
Hiding your face in your hands, you shut your eyes and sighed.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,611
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Vague smut at beginning of chapter, descriptions of violence and death, angst
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so we come to a brief break in the series as we wait for the final episode of knight of the seven kingdoms, never fear however, i do plan for there to be a few more chapters that take place after episode six, i wont leave you all alone! this chapter is sliiiightly shorter purely because i combined the end of episode four with episode five. all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
Of all the ways to wake up, in the arms of the man you loved was all you could have hoped for.
It was still early, you could tell from the way it was still dark inside the tent, yet you could hear the morning birds beginning their songs.
Raymun’s chest was pressed against your back, his soft snores accompanying the sound of the morning as you turned around in his arms to face him, tucking your head against his chest.
Though he grumbled in his sleep from the movement, he still pulled you in, resting his chin atop your head and tangling his legs with your own.
You shut your eyes, content to allow yourself this small moment of peace before the day truly began, before preparations for the trial could begin.
At first you’d almost forgotten about it entirely, too caught up in what existed inside this tent and nothing else.
Through the morning darkness, you could just make out Raymun’s features, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes fluttered closed, brown curls a mess on his head.
It almost made you want to laugh, the way you had teased him countless times before for his looks, only to now look upon and see what you thought to be the most beautiful thing in all of the seven kingdoms.
Unable to help yourself, you leaned forward to place a soft kiss upon his nose, then his cheek, then along his jaw, peppering kisses wherever you could find.
You heard him groan softly at being awoken, even if you had done it as softly as you could, watching as he began to stir and felt him begin to move.
As if out of reflex, your kisses upon Raymun’s face were soon met by him grasping your cheek to bring your lips to his own, kissing you deeply as his other hand began to run over your hip.
“If you’re going to wake me up like this every day,” he muttered, “I don’t think I'll ever be able to sleep without you by my side again.”
You laughed softly, only responding with yet another kiss, moving to slowly move atop of him until you were straddling him, leaning forward to keep peppering kisses along his face.
His hands quickly found their way to your hips, shamelessly moving down to squeeze your arse as you hummed contently.
“How long do we have?” he sighed, sitting up to begin placing kisses over your collar as he pulled at the thin nightdress you’d changed into the night before.
“I don’t know.” you whispered back, “I don’t think the sun is even up yet..”
Feeling his hand travel underneath your dress and between your thighs, his fingers began to run across your slit gently, stopping to rub small circles along your clit.
“Are you sore?” he asked, concern in his tone.
“Only a little.” you breathed, running your fingers along his scalp as he began to lay more kisses along your throat.
“I shall make sure to be gentle, then.” he laughed breathlessly, only for your fingers to grip the bundle of curls at the back of his head and tug his head back in order to make him look up at you.
“You will not.” you ordered.
-
At first light, you and Raymun were already dressed; He bid you goodbye with a soft kiss upon your crown, promising you he would see you again at the trial.
From the moment you entered Lynara’s tent, she had startled you when you saw she was already awake, sitting up in her bed and smiling expectantly.
Almost instantly, her eyes landed on the marks that had formed on your neck.
“We will have to find you a shawl.” she spoke slyly, narrowing her eyes at you as if she was almost impressed.
You helped her dress, a somber silence having overtaken the two of you as you began to prepare yourself for what you would soon be witnessing.
A cold chill had overtaken the once warm winds of Ashford; you pulled one of the furs from Lynara’s chest and draped it over her shoulders.
Offering one of her thicker and warmer gowns to you, its high collar had done well enough to hide your neck, as well as keep you considerably warmer.
Leaving the tent, the pair of you began the walk to the tourney grounds.
As you drew closer, you spotted Gwendolyn standing by the stone arches, visibly upset and seeming to be waiting for your arrival.
Turning to Lynara, you opened your mouth only for her to speak before you could.
“I’ll be fine, go.” she assured, walking ahead to make her way to the stands and leaving you behind with Gwendolyn.
“What’s happened?” you questioned, taking her hands in your own as she shook her head.
“He has joined Ser Duncan’s side..” she spoke shakily, “Both of them.”
“Who?” you cried, worry crossing your features.
“Our brother.. and my idiot husband…”
As you turned to finally look onto the field, you spotted the sigil of your own house, your brother on horseback dressed in his armor.
Beside him, Ser Hardyng.
“Find Lynara, I will be there soon.” you spoke to Gwendolyn, watching her begin to walk to the stands, her head turned down mournfully.
Lifting your skirts, you walked over to where the men stood on horseback, fire in your eyes and anger clear on your features.
“What are you doing?” you hissed, “You mean to join a fight that isn’t your own?”
“Aerion made it our fight the moment he saw fit to cripple my sister’s husband.” Your brother replied.
“Are you mad? you know how this will go, they will not hesitate to kill you!”
“Then it will be a death they will write ballads for.” he spoke, “I love you, sister.”
With that, he rode past you, Ser Hardyng following beside him.
Mouth hung open in shock, you felt your hands shaking as you gathered your skirts and began to walk back towards the stands.
When you finally sat at Gwendolyn’s side, she looked at you expectantly, though you kept your eyes forward, unwilling to face her.
“I could not stop them..” you whispered, only able to see your sister’s face crumble out of the corner of your eye.
“Oh gentle mother, be merciful, Warrior, grant them strength, Stranger, keep them from your grasp.”
Your sister’s frantic whispered prayers did little to quell your worry, though you gripped her clasped hands in your own, giving her what little reassurance you could with a squeeze.
“They are strong,” you whispered.
With Ser Steffon’s arrival, you could see him speaking with Ser Duncan, though you could not hear their words you could see clear as day the moment he turned towards the accuser's side.
As you watched Raymun step back slowly, anxiety filled you.
“What is he doing?” you heard Lynara ask softly.
“He is abandoning them..” you spoke, shock and disgust lacing your tone as you watched Raymun shove his cousin’s helmet into his chest.
Steffon delivered a hard shove to Raymun, the act making you gasp and lean forward, only for Gwendolyn’s hand to brace your shoulder.
“Be still.” she whispered.
“The Seven will burn him for this.” Lynara spat, her glare following Steffon across the grounds as he rode on horseback to join the accuser's side.
As you watched and waited, unsure what this meant for the fate of Ser Duncan and his innocence you watched Raymun turn and kneel before him, your brows furrowing.
“Raymun..” you whispered, a pit beginning to grow in your stomach as you watched Lord Baratheon approach, the men sharing words you could not hear before he unsheathed his own sword and began to brush it against Raymun’s shoulders.
“No..” you gasped, attempting to stand only for Gwendolyn to grab your arm and pull you back down.
“You can not stop this.” she hissed, pulling your hand into her own, “All you can do now is pray for him.”
“He will die.” you cried softly, turning to look at your sister with wide eyes full of fear, “It was foreseen..”
As you watched the scene before you, the crone’s words reverberated in your head once more.
‘A great love.’
Raymun stood from the ground, his eyes glancing to you only for a moment.
‘A great loss.’
“If Ser Duncan is innocent, the gods will show mercy.” Lynara stated, trying to reassure you as you felt tears begin to stream down your cheeks.
“Fuck the gods!” you hissed, ripping your hand from your sister's grasp as you felt your breathing begin to shake, “What mercy is this?”
Standing from your place, you ignored your sister's calls of your name, moving out of the stands and running down the stairs to try and reach the wooden fence line of the grounds.
As you ran, you could hear Ser Duncan’s pleas, your heart thrumming in your ears.
Just as you arrived at the fence, you were only able to watch as Prince Baelor rode onto the grounds, announcing that he was to take Ser Duncan’s side.
A small glimmer of hope amongst the darkness, a fighting chance at last.
Though your heart still ached, you did not cry out for your love, you did not want him to see you and falter in his strength.
“Seven above, I know I do not pray to you enough, I am not pious nor sinless, but I beg you, bring him back to me alive..” you whispered, watching with wide eyes as the men lined into position on horseback.
“Prove the crone’s prophecy to be a lie and I will be unwavering in my belief till the day I die..” Your voice began to break as you finished your prayer.
As Prince Baelor began to give the men a speech to lift their strength, his words fell on your ears as if they were muffled, as if you were trapped underwater only able to watch helplessly.
You watched as Raymun leaned over his horse, bile rising from his throat as his nerves affected his stomach.
With Ser Duncan following, you could only look away and shut your eyes, trying not to think about how scared your love might be.
Waiting and watching, a sickening silence held its place as you felt your heart hammering from your chest.
From the moment the horn blew and the sound of horses rearing filled your ears, you could only watch in horror as your love charged forward, his lance aimed ahead as he seemed to disappear from your sight in the field of armor and fog.
It felt as if you could not move, your fingers dug into the wooden fence so hard it began to become painful, time seemed to stop as you tried to make sense of what you could see.
Fighting back the urge to run onto the field yourself, you caught sight of your brother-in-law, a white armored member of the kingsguard thrashing at him with his sword.
As Ser Hardyng fell off his horse and made impact with the ground, even from the distance you were stood, you could see that he was now lifeless and unmoving.
“Bastard!” you screamed, ramming your fist against the fence and only able to imagine the way your sister was suffering.
Suddenly you felt guilt begin to flood you, in your haste you had left her side and now she had been forced to watch her husband murdered before her eyes.
Before your eyes you watched as Aerion had Ser Duncan on the ground, twisting a knife into his side.
Finally you spotted him once more, Raymun fast approaching on horseback, his sword aimed high and ready, delivering a blow that had Aerion flying away from Ser Duncan and landing in the mud.
Yet as he looked behind him to ensure Duncan’s safety, you could see Steffon thundering towards him, lance at the ready.
Before you even had a chance to scream his name, Steffon’s lance was splintered against Raymun’s shield, sending him back, yet not yet knocking him off of his horse.
You didn’t know where to look, your eyes drifting all across the field until they finally landed on your brother.
Though you could not see his face, he was lying face down in the mud, a wound across his head painting what little flesh you could see a bright sickening red.
A broken lance stuck out from his chest.
Unable to take anymore, you felt yourself beginning to collapse, gripping onto the fence to keep yourself upright as you wailed.
A hand on your shoulder, perhaps it was the stranger himself, come to take you along with your brother; you could only look down at the ground numb as you felt yourself lifted from the muddy ground.
“My lady, my lady, look at me.”
Turning your head to look up, you spotted a pair of green eyes looking down at you, mournful and apologetic.
Samuel Redwyne.
Gripping onto his shirt, your legs felt powerless, unable to carry your own weight.
“They killed him… they killed him!” you cried, your heartbreak forming into anger as you turned to look back at the field.
Though your vision was clouded, you could recognise Raymun and Steffon, now on the ground, delivering blows to one another.
“Your squire is holding his own, you must stay strong, for him.”
-
“I withdraw my accusation.”
A horn blow cut through the roaring crowd, a mix of cheering and boo’s, all melting together into a dull rumble.
You were sat at Gwendolyn’s side, no longer in the stands and instead now finding yourselves holding one another inside the armoury where Ser Redwyne had led you.
His own small attempt to give you some protection from the sight that lay on the grounds just outside.
Gwendolyn had her arm wrapped around your shoulder, the pair of you sniffling as your reddened eyes stared at the ground.
“I am so sorry, my lady.” Samuel spoke to Gwendolyn, her gaze rising to meet his, anger clear in her eyes.
“This can not be forgiven by anybody.” she spat, “My child will live as an orphan, my brother is gone..” she paused, breath hitching.
“He fought with great honour, he will be remembered-“
Cutting him off, Gwendolyn stood quickly.
“Do not speak to me of honour!” she spat, “honour will not bring my husband back to me..”
With a solemn bow of his head, Samuel turned and walked away, understanding that it would be best to leave the pair of you alone.
Standing in place, Gwendolyn watched as Ser Redwyne left the armoury, her shoulders falling as a shaky exhale left her throat.
“Sister..” you whispered, “this is what the crone predicted..”
“What?” she breathed, turning to look at you.
“A great love, A great loss, Heart tested, Heart torn.”
Your words seemed to pierce her deeply, hiding her face in her hands as she refused to answer you.
“I must find father.” she sighed, wiping the tears from her face, “I will hear no more of this old crone’s cursed prophecies.”
Turning to leave, Gwendolyn disappeared from your sight as she turned a corner, leaving you alone in the armoury as you stared at the ground.
Rising slowly, you felt yourself stumbling, unsure if you were going to hit the ground at any moment, you braced yourself with a hand against the stone wall before continuing.
You felt as though your mind was spinning, yet you felt numb all at the same time, so much had been taken from you in a matter of moments, The Stranger had wrenched them from your hands.
Crossing the threshold, you stood at the entrance of the stands, letting the cool winds hit your face as you shut your eyes.
As the wind blew, a low howl in your ears, it almost sounded for a moment as if it was carrying your name.
Perhaps it was your brother, calling for you one last time in spirit so as to take you with him.
Perhaps you would let him.
Your name. Again.
Clearer this time.
Opening your eyes back up, you turned in place, realising that the calls you heard were neither hallucinations nor from the grave.
There he stood, broken, bruised, but standing nonetheless.
“Raymun..” you whispered, barely audible.
Though your legs felt weak, you still lurched forward, almost tripping on your cloak before regaining your balance to keep running to him.
Meeting you halfway, you crashed into each other’s arms, a sound of pain leaving his throat when you squeezed him, you suddenly remembered he was injured.
“We.. we must find a maester..” you croaked, your hands running over his leather armor as you looked for any mortal wounds.
“I’m okay, my love..” he breathed, holding onto your shoulders to stop your panicked movements.
“I’m hurtin’ but I’m okay.”
Stopping, you looked up at him, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he offered you a kind, yet saddened smile.
“Never give me cause to pray for your life again..” you whispered.
Laughing breathlessly, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, allowing you to pull him in for a much gentler hug.
“I am yours.” he breathed.
“I am yours.” you replied.
-
“Agh, careful!” Raymun fussed, flinching away from you as you tried to gently scrub the mud and fired blood off of his face that was already beginning to come up in shades of purple.
“I’m trying.” you replied calmly, grabbing his chin to make you face him once more.
Sitting in front of you, you stood above Raymun, having peeled off his armor and leaving him in nothing but his cotton pants.
“I think you might have briefly dislocated your shoulder..” you mused softly, running your finger tips over the area of his collar bone that you could see was beginning to swell.
“You a septa now?” Raymun joked, trying to roll his shoulder only to hiss softly and stop.
“I don’t have to be in order to tell you that I will need to wrap this.”
“I promise Steffon had worse..” he replied, shaking his head as he smiled up at you, “Broke a rib or two, at least.”
Unable to fight back your smile, you took his face in your hands softly, feeling his hands come to rest on your hips as you stepped between his legs.
“I prayed for you, you know..” you said softly, running your thumb over his cheek.
“You? Prayin?” he said with a laugh, seeming genuinely astonished at your confession, “Last I remember, the septa once slapped you up the back of the head for refusing to wear a flower crown on maidens day.”
“Because that was stupid.” you huffed, rolling your eyes.
Feeling his hands travel down, you yelped softly as his hand gave your arse a firm squeeze.
“I like the idea of that, my woman prayin’ for my safety and all that bollocks.”
His words made your brows turn upwards, your gaze turning sad for a moment as you gazed down at him.
“I thought I was going to lose you forever..” you whispered, your voice cracking, “When that old crone told me..”
“Told you what?” he questioned, concern lacing his features.
“She told me that I would experience a great love.. and also a great loss..”
Shutting your eyes, you let out a shaky breath.
“If my prayers saved you.. why did they not save my brother…?”
“My love, look at me..” he said softly, squeezing your waist and pulling you closer.
You opened your eyes, looking down at the man you loved.
“Your brother fought for what he believed was right, just as I did, there was no godly intervention, nothin’ that could have changed what happened, I won’t have you carryin’ the blame on your shoulders.”
Nodding your head slowly, you were still feeling the guilt heavy on your soul, but you agreed for the sake of Raymun not worrying over you.
“Please never leave me..” you whispered.
“The gods themselves would have to keep me from you, and even then, I'd fight like hell to have you back.”
Leaning down, you placed a gentle kiss on Raymun’s lips, only for him to hiss softly as you brushed against his swollen bottom lip.
“I’m sorry..” you smiled softly, reaching for the cold rag to try and quell the swelling.
Only for Raymun to stop you, grabbing your wrist softly and guiding you to kiss him again.
“If I ever refuse your kisses, it will be because I have died.”
Pulling you by your hips, he brought you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you as he rested his forehead against your chest.
You ran your hands over his back softly, careful to avoid the bruised areas in favour of soothing him with your touch.
“Will you take my name?” he asked softly, his nose running over your neck softly as he took a deep inhale of your scent.
Gasping softly, you felt yourself still as your eyes widened.
“Raymun..” you whispered.
“I want you to be mine.. I’ve already asked Lynara, she would release you from her service, you would be my wife..”
“My father..” you began, only for Raymun to cut you off.
“I’ll speak with your father, seven hells, I’ll get on my knees and beg..”
You stayed silent first, seeing the desperation in his eyes.
“And if he refuses you?” you questioned, a genuine fear in the back of your mind.
Opening his mouth to speak but pausing, Raymun shook his head.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,443
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, some sibling arguments, threats of death
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: here it is gang, the big kahuna, time for y'all to get what you've been waiting so patiently for; i plan for there to be roughly 3-4 more chapters of this series, as i know we're sadly bracing oursleves for the final episode, but i hope you all enjoy! all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
“A prince? this entire time?”
Lynara sat across from you as you explained what had occurred at the puppets tent, Aerion’s assault on the girl, Egg’s confession.
“Maekars youngest son, yes.” you nodded.
Raising her eyebrows, she stood from her seat and walked to the table where goblets and a flagon of wine stood, pouring two glasses.
“I knew that Aerion was a monster, the moment he crippled your brother in law.”
Walking back, she handed one of the goblets to you, which you took gratefully.
“Thank you.” you spoke, taking a generous sip of the deep red liquid.
“What’s to happen to the big one? the boy was his squire, how did he even end up in his care?”
You shrugged your shoulders at Lynara’s question.
“I don’t know yet, I don’t even know if Ser Duncan is still alive.”
As you finished your sentence, Lynara saw the way your eyes fell to your lap.
“What of Raymun?” she began, causing your head to snap up instantly.
“What of him?”
Leaning forward in her seat, she narrowed her eyes at you.
“Don’t play coy with me, I have known you since you were young and I have known my cousin his entire life, I can recognise attraction when I see it.”
Frozen in place, you didn’t know what to say at first, trying to conjure up something you could say to alleviate her suspicions, though it seemed her mind was promptly made up.
“Don’t waste a good lie on this.” she spoke with a smile, “You know I would never share this with anybody.”
Taking a breath, you nodded, understanding that if there was anyone who held your interests at heart, it was her.
“He kissed me, just before we left for Ashford…”
Impressed, Lynara took a sip of her wine, clearly entertained and parched for details.
“I didn’t speak to him at first-“
“Why not?”
She seemed surprised, as if she was almost disappointed.
“I don’t know!” you defended, “I’d never been kissed before!”
“And then..”
She was practically fiending for details.
By the time you had told her everything she was almost done with her third goblet, thoroughly entertained.
Though you spared the part about what the crone had told you, still not wanting to think about it for longer than necessary.
“What will you do now?” she questioned.
“I don’t know..”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I would not protest a union.”
The way she’d said it so casually made you almost choke on your wine, coughing as you tried to regain your breath.
“A union?” you croaked, bracing a hand on your chest.
“Well of course; you could become a Fossoway, it would be fitting after all, you already know our home like it is your own.”
Standing from your seat, you put your goblet down hard, the liquid sloshing and almost spilling onto the table.
“And what? take his name? have his children?”
She gestured as if it was obvious,
“That is generally how marriages work, my love.”
Raising your hand to silently ask her to stop talking, you took a deep breath and shut your eyes.
“I can’t think about this right now.”
Before she could answer once more, you turned and left the tent, immediately feeling the pouring rain against your skin.
You made no effort to go back for a cloak, only pushed through the peltering rain and continued to walk across the muddy ground.
The campgrounds that were often lively and filled with the laughter of men, were now eerily silent save for the dull rumble of the rain pelting down on tents.
Hugging yourself, you could already feel yourself beginning to shiver, yet tried to ignore the cold.
Making your way to the Beesbury tent, you spotted your emblem through the dark and strides closer, finally reaching the entrance and pulling it aside to enter.
Sitting together in silence, your brother and sister jumped when you entered, your soaked hair and dress sticking to you.
“Gods be good!” Humfrey commented, rising quickly to grab your shoulders and wrap a blanket around you.
“Why were you walking in the rain without a coat, you stupid girl!” Gwendolyn scolded, slowly rising from her seat and coming to stand in front of you.
“I could already be losing my husband on this night! you would torture me further by losing you as well?”
“You won’t lose him.” Humfrey cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder, “The maesters have already said so long as he rests he will live.”
Waving him away, Gwendolyn huffed and moved to sit back down, staring into the fire that had been lit to warm the tent's interior.
Looking at your brother, you felt your lip begin to wobble; in this moment, more than ever before, you just needed your family.
“What is it?” Humfrey asked softly, concern lacing his features as he took your face in his hands.
Not speaking, you simply pulled him in for a tight hug, as you sniffled and felt yourself begin to cry.
Though you hadn’t seen it, the moment she heard your cries, Gwendolyn rose once more, guilt suddenly forming on her face.
“Oh sweet girl..” she whispered, seeing the way your eyes were beginning to go glassy with tears.
Taking you back to her sleeping area, she dried your hair and helped you out of your wet clothes, letting you borrow a simple cotton gown of her own so that you were now dry.
Now sitting on the bed as she slowly brushed the knots out of your hair, you hung your head.
“You must talk to me, little sister..” she whispered, “Otherwise how am I to help you?”
“This can’t be helped, Gwendolyn..” you began, “I have fallen in love..”
“Why is this making you cry, petal?” she questioned, running her hand along your shoulder.
Wiping under your eye, though you expected you had cried all the tears your body could give, you turned your head to see her out of the corner of your eye.
“I am petrified..” you whispered.
“Oh sweet girl.. love is always petrifying..” she spoke softly, continuing to brush your hair.
“When I was first told I was going to marry Ser Hardyng, I ran back to my chambers and weeped into my pillow.. I was scared of change, of leaving my family behind..”
She paused, putting the brush down.
“But then when I met him, when he spoke to me so kindly, showed me care in ways nobody has, I realised that the idea of life without him, it terrified me.”
Beginning to braid your hair, she continued.
“That is what love is, little one.. the terror you feel when you think of them without you, it is your heart’s way of telling you to hold them tightly, to never let them slip through your fingers.”
Her words resonated with you, as you stared down at your hands.
“Perfect.” Gwendolyn spoke softly as she finished the braid.
“Now you must tell me.. who is the lucky young gentleman who has captured my little sister’s heart?”
Turning to face her, you offered a shy smile, looking away briefly before meeting her gaze again.
“Steffon Fossway’s squire.. Lynara’s cousin..”
Nodding as if she weren’t even surprised, Gwendolyn smiled knowingly.
“I thought I had noticed him glancing at you during the joust…”
As the curtain separating Gwendolyn’s sleeping area slipped open, your brother’s head poked through.
“We were right?” he questioned.
“We were right.” Gwendolyn confirmed.
Looking between them with widened eyes, you furrowed your brows.
“You both knew?!” you shouted, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment.
“I knew from the moment you danced with Ser Redwyne in Lord Baratheons teeeeent!” your brother sung, imitating a dance as he spun and laughed triumphantly.
“The poor boy practically had steam coming out of his ears!”
-
Now equipped with a thick coat, you had walked back to The Fossoway’s tent, not intending on such an audience when you moved the entrance flap and entered.
Before you, sat Ser Duncan, along with Lynara and Raymun.
Stood with her arms crossed, Lynara spotted you and stormed over.
“Where did you go?” she hissed, “I thought you had run into the cold and died!”
Leaning in close, she barely kept her voice above a whisper.
“Raymun was practically ready to go searching for you himself…”
Stepping away, Lynara walked back to where the rest of the men were sitting.
“Aerion has called for a trial of seven.” She stated, crossing her arms once more.
“A trial of seven?” you questioned, “but there hasn’t been one of those since-“
“Since Maegor The Cruel, yes..” Lynara finished your sentence, shaking her head in disapproval.
“Maybe the gods figured this is what I deserve..” Ser Duncan stated solemnly.
“For doing what you were supposed to do?” Raymun interjected as Lynara nodded.
“You saved that girl’s life, Ser…” you added, “What reason would the gods have to punish you?”
“For not knowing my place..” He said softly.
The sound of the curtains being drawn made you turn, only to see a cloaked Egg emerge.
“Ser!” he called.
“Egg!” Raymun spoke, “What’re doing?”
“I’m your squire, Ser, you’ll need someone to arm you.”
Though the boy was only young, he spoke with a determination you had not seen often.
“Does your father know you’ve left the castle?” Duncan spoke, a mix of both concern and fear lacing his voice.
“I hope not.” Another man spoke as he emerged through the curtains, his hood covering his face, “I don’t think I could bear another foot whipping tonight.”
As he removed his cloak, you didn’t recognise him, but it wouldn’t have been an unlikely guess that this was the second missing prince, the one you had heard about.
Turning to look over at Ser Duncan, it was clear he had recognised him, beginning to approach the young prince quickly.
“You!” he roared, unsheathing a knife from his belt as you all began to yell out protests, Raymun shooting forward to attempt and hold his friend back as you ran to try and grip the wrist that was holding a knife towards the prince.
“Ser Duncan, don’t be stupid!” you cried, trying with all your might to pull his hand away.
“Are you mad comin’ here? I should drive this through your neck!”
“As well deserved as that may be, Ser Duncan, do not spill royal blood in my fathers tent!” Lynara cried, attempting to rush forward.
Despite the knife being held against him, the prince only laughed dryly.
“I’d sooner you pour me a cup of wine.”
“Fuck your wine! You lied about me!”
“Well I had to say something when my father demanded to know where ‘Egg’ had gotten to.”
Just as soon as you were expecting to see even more bloodshed, Egg’s pleas seemed to bring Ser Duncan back to reason when he finally pulled away and sheathed his knife.
As Raymun gave Ser Duncan a questioning look, you took a step back and sighed deeply.
“He can’t kill me twice.” Ser Duncan grunted, backing away.
Looking over at Raymun, the pair of you shared a look, a silent promise that you would talk once this was done.
“My father is going to join the seven accusers, Ser.” Egg explained.
“Yeah of course he will, he must redeem his son’s honour.” Duncan sneered in Daeron’s direction.
“He is their father, Ser Duncan, what choice does he have?” you spoke as if it was obvious.
“Not that I ever asked to have my honour redeemed,” Daeron spoke with a raised hand, “Whoever has it can keep it so far as I’m concerned.”
“I begged him not to, Ser. I begged him.” Egg explained.
“You shouldn’t have done that little prince.” You spoke softly, offering him a sympathetic glance.
“For what it’s worth, you have little to fear from me.” Daeron began, “I will do my best to look gallant in the first charge but.. after that perhaps you could strike me a nice blow to the side of the helm? make it ring, not too loud.” he joked.
Rolling your eyes, you stepped away and placed a hand on your forehead in annoyance.
As the two men continued, Lynara stepped over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.
“This ought to be nothing else if not entertaining.” she sighed, “I only sympathise for poor Gwin Ashford, spending her name day celebration watching men try to murder one another.”
Turning back to the conversation at hand, you had begun listening once more just as Egg described the torment Aerion subjected him to as a child.
“Gods be good.” you whispered in shock, sending a glare in Raymun’s direction as he snickered.
At its conclusion, Ser Duncan and Daeron disappeared out of the tent at the request of a private word, leaving you with Egg, Lynara and Raymun.
Coming to kneel in front of Egg, you gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
“You have done the right thing, little prince, there are men far older than you with far less honour.” You spoke softly.
“My mother taught me to be kind, to help those who could not help themselves.”
The boy’s words made you smile.
“She sounds like a wonderful mother.”
“She was.” Egg replied, his eyes seeming to fall sad for a mere moment before he stood and began to exit the tent to find his brother.
Rising back up, you watched the little prince exit and turned back to Lynara.
“That boy has seen more of life’s hurt than he deserves.” she mused, shaking her head.
“I’m going to bed, this whole mess has exhausted me.” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hand before bidding you goodnight with a wave.
As she exited, it left you and Raymun alone, now looking at each other as you stood in the tent.
“Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly, taking a step towards you before taking your hand in his own.
Nodding, you allowed him to grip your hand and gave his own a reassuring squeeze.
“I will be fine.” you reassured, placing your other hand on his chest.
Leaning forward, you placed a gentle peck upon his lips, which he returned, placing his hands on your back and shutting his eyes.
Breaking the kiss to rest your forehead against his, you kept your eyes shut as you held each other.
“Stay with me tonight.” you whispered, bracing your hands against his chest.
“Always.” he responded softly.
-
His sleeping arrangements were a touch more modest than your own, a simple wooden bed without the plush sheets and a thin mattress, only a thin blanket atop it, but it would do well enough so long as you were by Raymun’s side.
As you stood by and watched him begin to fiddle with the leather armor covering him, you stepped forward to help him, undoing the strings of his bracers before you began to work at his collar as well, slowly and gently peeling it off to leave him in his maroon undershirt.
“Thank you.” he said softly, placing the leather garments to the side before turning back to you.
At first, it seemed neither of you knew what to say or do, as you moved to remove your thick cloak and turned around to lay it to the side.
With your back facing Raymun, you quickly felt his arms enveloping you from behind, wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder and simply held you.
Shutting your eyes, you tilted your head forward and let out a content sigh, enjoying the intimate embrace in silence.
“I love you.” he whispered, as if he was nervous to say it due to the reaction you’d had previously.
Guilt suddenly flooded you as you remembered how you had reacted, wondering if he had felt scorned.
“I love you too.” you whispered back after a period of silence, feeling Raymun pull you closer and hold you tighter as he let out a sound you couldn’t quite place.
Laying a soft kiss on the spot where your neck met your shoulder, he whispered against your skin.
“Say it again.. please..” he begged softly, his fingers beginning to dig into the fabric of your dress.
His touch made your breath hitch, your brows turning as you felt your heart begin to race.
“I love you, Raymun…” you whispered, placing your hands over top of his own.
“Seven hells..” he muttered, “I’ve loved you since I first saw you, when you beat me with that stick in the gardens.”
His soft laugh against your skin made you shiver as you smiled softly and turned slowly to face him.
“I want to be yours, Raymun..”
Your words seemed to make his eyes darken in a way you hadn’t seen before, as he pulled you against his chest and let his nose graze your own.
“Don’t..” he muttered, “I won’t be able to control myself if you keep talkin’ like that..”
You knew what he meant, you weren’t a child, it was clear to you what he was insinuating, and yet you didn’t even care.
“I don’t care..” you sighed, placing your hands on his cheeks and pulling him in to kiss him deeply.
Just as it had in the meadow days beforehand, your kiss seemed to break something free within Raymun, you heard him let out a groan from deep within his chest as he pulled you closer.
His lips were plush and soft as they always were, his mouth opening with your own to allow his tongue to slip through.
Leading you closer towards the wooden bed as he kissed you, the moment you felt the back of your knees hit the base, you fell backwards, Raymun cushioning your fall by keeping a firm hold of you to lay you down gently.
Rising to rest on your elbows, you stared up at Raymun as he stood over you, his length clearly visible through the fabric of his pants, hard and thick.
Lowering himself on top of you, Raymun kissed your lips before moving down to your throat, no longer holding back as he began to nip at the sensitive skin.
“Wanted to have you right there in that damned meadow..” he growled, one of his hands running along your body with a roughness that was just enough to make your heart leap.
“Why didn’t you..?” you sighed, running your fingers through his brown curls.
“We were interrupted, if you recall.” he laughed softly, rising once more to kiss your nose, “I had to protect my lady from the vicious beast in the grass.”
“Of course.” you laughed softly.
Allowing your hands to wander, you brushed your finger tips along his inner thigh, a feather light touch that had his breath hitching as he let out a soft groan.
“Watch yourself..” he huffed, his hand squeezing your hip.
“And if I don’t?” you teased, taking an experimental tug at his curls, only for him to let out a deep groan from the back of his throat.
Leaning back suddenly, Raymun’s hands quickly travelled to the end of your dress, beginning to lift it as you let out a soft squeal.
Shushing you, he gave a warning squeeze to your thighs.
“I’m goin’ to bury my face in your cunt until you’re crying for mercy.”
Unable to do anything except bite your lip and watch as Raymun lowered himself onto his knees, you braced yourself as he began to leave kisses along your inner thighs.
You felt his fingers first, his thumb running up and down along your slit, spreading your wetness as you cried out softly, already arching your back.
“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked softly, the facade momentarily broken as he continued to kiss along your thigh.
You shook your head, unable to speak for fear it would only come out as a series of incoherent mumbles.
“I am your first?” he asked, his touches on your pussy growing faster as he watched you writhe under his touch.
“Yes.. gods, Raymun..”
With that confirmation, he lowered his head down to lick a long stripe along your cunt, which had you throwing your head back and crying out softly.
His tongue was like a fire against your flesh, the way he was making your thighs shake as he devoured your juices like he was starved.
You lifted your head only for a moment, but saw Raymun with his eyes closed blissfully, his head moving up and down as he lapped at your cunt.
“Gods above..” his words came out muffled before he broke for air and kissed your thighs, “You taste like honey.”
You could easily let him spend hours between your legs, gods knew you probably would in the future, but in the moment, the only thing you wanted was for him to be inside you.
Letting him sink back down and continue eating you, you tilted your head back and sighed, letting out a gasp as he sucked harshly on your clit.
Reflexively trying to close your legs, Raymun’s hands held them open, slowly torturing you as he flicked his tongue over the nerve without rest, making you reach down to grip onto his curls and tug.
“Agh, Raymun stop..” you whimpered, though you didn’t exactly mean it, “S-sensitive..” you cried.
Finally halting his attack on your clit, Raymun resurfaced, grinning at you like the cat that ate the canary as he crawled up your body slowly, trailing kisses across your chest and neck before reaching your lips once more.
You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sensation that brought you more pleasure than you would be willing to admit, the debauchery of it all only making you want it more.
“Raymun..” you practically purred against his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips like a needy whore in a brothel.
“Tell me what you need…” he grunted, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, his eyes wide and blown out to the point they were almost black.
You couldn’t even speak at first, your head was clouded and your vision seeing stars, only when he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him did you finally chime back in.
“I need you, Raymun..” you whispered, “I need you to fuck me..”
“Fuck..” he hissed, reaching down without any further hesitation to undo the strings of his pants, his shaky hands desperate to free his cock.
Springing free, the tip was red and leaking, bobbing independently as you bit your lip and took in the sight.
He was thicker than you had imagined, it looked as if you might struggle to wrap your hand all the way around it.
Letting it fall against your pussy, Raymun dragged it across your folds, gathering your wetness over his shaft as you felt your cunt clenching around nothing.
“Raymun..” you begged, staring up at him with your cheeks flushed and your mouth hanging open, “Please..”
He didn’t move at first, just looked down at you and took in the sight of you, half clothed and begging for him, it seemed like he was almost in a trance.
“You’re so beautiful..” he whispered, leaning forward to finally begin lining the head of his cock towards your entrance.
When he first began to push it in, it stung, gods it stung; he silenced your cry of pain with a kiss, moving slowly as he split you open and eventually came to rest when he reached the hilt.
As he parted the kiss, he brushed his cheek against your own, shutting his eyes and groaning into your ear when he felt you squeeze him.
“I knew you were goin’ to take me perfectly, like you’re molded just for me.”
His words only made you flutter around him, feeling the way he twitched inside you each time.
You could feel how badly he wanted to move, how badly he wanted to begin to wrench his cock in and out of you, yet he waited until you were ready, waiting for the small nod that signalled he was allowed to begin rocking his hips.
He started slow, barely pulling out before pushing back in gently, allowing you to familiarise yourself with the sensation first, like the true gentleman he was.
Before long, you took his face in your hands and made him look into your eyes, his vision looked as if it was fogged over, his mouth hanging open as he panted against your lips and thrusted slowly.
“Harder..” you whispered, taking another kiss from him as you shut your eyes.
“Are you sure, love?” he spoke breathlessly, concern melting across his face.
You nodded, resting his forehead against yours.
“I want you to love me properly… you won’t hurt me..” you reassured.
With your permission granted, Raymond began to roll his hips, pulling out further before the soft slaps of flesh against flesh sounded out as he began to fall into a steady rhythm.
You could hear the soft wet sounds of your juices coating his cock, his moans deepening as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.
Your arms wrapped around him, nails scratching over his back as your toes curled, your soft cries were as quiet as you could manage, any louder and you would surely wake up the whole tent.
There hadn’t been an expectation that he was going to last long, he had been holding himself back for so long, and you could tell he was still trying.
“It’s okay..” you sighed against his skin, “I want you to fill me with it..”
Coaxing it out of him with your words, it seemed to push him over the edge quickly, his hips stilling for a moment before he thrusts slowed down immensely, a deep groan leaving his chest as he rolled his hips to thrust deeply into you.
Though you could not feel much, you held him close and shushed him softly, hearing him pant softly from above you.
Soon enough, as he caught hold of his breath once more, he gently pulled out of you, his seed already beginning to leak out of you as he laid beside you and pulled you into his arms.
He kissed the top of your head, an arm wrapped around you as if he was scared you would disappear the moment he let go.
“I am yours.” he whispered, “body and soul.”
His words made you smile softly, laying a kiss on his collar, you looked up at him.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,356
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, aerion being awful, unnerving predictions of the future
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i must just love spoiling y'al because here is chapter four for you all. things are finally starting to get nice and juicy, i've definitely turned this 'reader' into a character of her own, but most of my 'x readers' end up becoming ' x ocs' anyway. all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
Sleep had been hard to grasp for a majority of the night, leaving you yawning and rubbing your eyes as you dressed yourself for the day, struggling with the strings at the back of your dress through your lack of rest.
As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you ran your finger tips over the spot on your throat where Raymun’s lips had touched, feeling your skin erupt with goosebumps as you recalled the image in your mind.
Shaking the thought from your mind, you regained focus on your morning duties and took to beginning to raise Lynara from her sleep.
By the time you had finished helping her dress and ensured she’d eaten, a habit she had formed of skipping breakfast, you had left the tent and began to head to the jousting grounds.
Gwendolyn had made you promise you would come by to watch both of the Humfrey’s, your brother and your sister's husband, as they were intending to try and see who could be knocked off their horse sooner.
As you approached the tall stone archways that had become littered with ivy over the years, you found yourself suddenly grateful that there were no marks left on your flesh.
It hadn’t been difficult to spot the two men from a distance, considering that your brother’s laughter was the first thing you heard before you even saw them, even over the booming of the crowd.
“You can laugh, but I’m gonna have you on your ass!” your brother in law shouted as the two passed each other once more.
Catching Gwendolyn’s eye from where she sat in the stands, she waved you over and slid over to make room for you.
“How do you fare, sister?” she asked as you sat beside her, keeping her eyes on the field as she clapped.
“If I start to fall asleep, shake me awake.” you groaned, hooking her arm around your own.
Laughing at your comment, Gwendolyn continued to keep a keen eye on her husband as he readied himself for yet another pass, his oak coloured steed running its hoove over the ground excitedly.
“The maesters have told me it’s likely to be a boy.” she spoke, running a hand over her bump with a smile.
“And how are they meant to tell?” you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.
She shrugged, tilting her head.
“I’ve been waking up in sweat every morning, I can hardly even tolerate sleeping under a blanket; apparently that’s meant to indicate a boy.”
Her answer made you laugh.
“And you believe them, then?”
“Oh not in the slightest, but it made Humfrey happy when I told him.”
Just as she’d said that, you watched as the two men began to charge forward, lances lowered and ready to strike.
Feeling Gwendolyn’s grip on your hand tighten, you could feel her breath hitch.
As the two men came into contact, the sound of splintering wood paired with a large crash filled your ears as you watched the two men knock each other off of their horses, coming tumbling to the ground together.
With a sudden roar of the crowd, Gwendolyn rose to her feet quickly and watched with widened eyes as the two men rose from the ground steadily, raising their fists in the air triumphantly.
Even you yourself couldn’t resist the cheer that left your throat.
-
With a brief break in between events, done in preparation for the prince’s participation that was due next, you took the time to walk back to The Fossoway’s tent to remind Lynara of the event.
You’d only managed to reach the marketplace when you felt a hand on your wrist, quickly dragging you behind a stall as you let out a startled sound.
Ready to begin fighting back out of reflex, your fist only briefly made contact with a leather clad chest once before you realised who it had been that grabbed you.
The brown eyes of Raymun stared down at you as he smiled, gripping onto your shoulders.
Opening your mouth to begin to scold him for scaring you, you didn’t get the chance before he was silencing you with a kiss, running his thumb over your cheek as he held your jaw delicately.
Gods be good, the first time you’d seen him since last night and he was already pulling you behind market stalls to steal kisses.
Breaking the kiss, he kept his face close to yours, resting his forehead against your own as he exhaled a soft laugh against your lips.
“You’re going to get me in trouble.” you whispered, though the smile on your features clearly betrayed the fact that you weren’t upset with him.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed, “I just wanted to kiss you again..” he whispered back.
His eyes were practically sparkling as he looked at you, his cheeks flushed from the contact.
He looked closer to a love sick puppy than a man.
Playfully shoving his chest, you narrowed your eyes at him.
“If you scare me like that again, I’ll crack you in the jaw.”
Your threat wasn’t serious and he knew it, only smirking at you and biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you turn and walk away.
-
Returning to the grounds with Lynara’s arm hooked in your own, you listened as she rattled on about the scandal that had occurred between a knight from House Webber who had been caught in the stables with the daughter of Lord Oldflowers daughters.
“Let’s hope she isn’t sent to be trained as a septa.” she laughed, “It’s not likely Ser Webber will receive any blame.”
The topic made your hair stand on end, while you and Raymun had only shared a few embraces, there was still the matter of honour.
It would do you no good to shame your lady should she find out you were sneaking behind market stalls with her cousin.
“My mother was a Webber, you know?” you changed the topic smoothly, “She met my father at a tourney not unlike this one, or so he says.”
Seeming to have grabbed Lynara’s interest with the promise of a story, she promptly forgot about the indiscretions of others.
-
As the second round of jousts began, you found yourself once more sat between Gwendolyn and Lynara, watching as your brother in law unhorsed a knight from House Hunt and another of House Estermont.
Your sister was cheering loudly for her husband, her favour tied to the hilt of his lance which you could see blowing in the wind.
“He doesn’t seem happy.” Lynara commented as she watched the knight from House Estermont throw his shield to the ground in a rage.
“I think he shall survive.” you replied with a smirk, “Many men have survived far more than embarrassment at a tourney.”
As you watched your brother in law disappear into his tent for a short break before he was due to face the prince, the horn signalled for new champions to begin.
The announcer’s booming voice called out an introduction, you sighed, unable to hide your annoyance as you saw the golden armour of Steffon catch your eye, just as the announcer yelled his name.
His opponent, a member of House Manwoody, strode out on a white horse, his shield painted with the sigil of a skull wearing a golden crown.
As Steffon trotted onto the field, you couldn’t help but search for Raymun, knowing he would have to be present as his cousin’s squire.
“Gods be good,” Lynara sighed as she watched her brother let out a yell, which the crowd followed with a booming cheer.
“Your brother?” Gwendolyn questioned, watching as Lynara nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
As they chattered, your eyes found Raymun, gripping his cousin’s lance at the edge of the field and staring ahead.
Initially, you hadn’t thought it possible for his eyes to find you in the stands, yet from the moment his gaze turned, he spotted you instantly, offering you only a subtle smile before looking ahead once more.
He understood just as well as you the importance of secrecy, neither of held any particular standing as is, your fates were left to be determined by your superior’s, one wrong move or shared glance and you would be separated faster than you could blink.
Then again, what exactly was it between the two of you; while a kiss shared between two people should have been an easy indication, there had been no declaration, no promise of loyalty.
It seemed to have left you in a perpetual state of limbo as to what Raymun even was to you, a lover? a friend? or something else entirely.
In your distraction, it had taken three passes of Lynara saying your name before you finally turned suddenly.
“What?” you asked, thinking you’d missed a question.
Taking notice of your line of sight, Lynara had spotted Raymun easily, and now was acutely aware of the fact that he had held your attention easily enough so as to not even hear your own name.
“Catching an eye for young squires?” she teased, only for you to shake your head.
“Of course not.”
“Oh hush, there’s no punishment for simple admiration, though..” she narrowed her gaze and squinted, taking in Raymun, “I can’t say i share your sentiments.”
Before the conversation could continue further, the match concluded with Steffon unhorsing the knight of House Manwoody, the stands erupting in cheers once more.
As another horn blew and deep drums began to sound, the announcer stepped up once more.
Rallying through the series of titles before finally announcing Prince Aerion Brightflame.
His blackened armor was sharp, his helmet moulded into some twisted version of the prince’s own face, but with what seemed to be either spikes or flames protruding from the back.
The image was enough to send a chill down your spine.
Though you could not hear the words that Aerion spoke to his cousin, the expression on the other young lord’s face told you that it was nothing kind.
Moving on to the tent beside it, you watched your brother in law emerge, seeing Aerion’s lips moving yet not hearing his words.
Mounting his horse, Humfrey placed his helmet over his head and rode into the field raising his lance, receiving a cheer from the crowd as he rode into his starting position.
The growing pit in your stomach felt as if it was beginning to gnaw at your insides now, taking Gwendolyn’s hand in your own as the crowd drew to an unnerving quiet.
As the first pass began, you watched as Gwendolyn placed a hand over her heart, fear clear on her features as her husband began to charge.
Bracing yourself for impact, you both gasped when the prince weaved himself out of the way of your brother-in-law's lance, feeling the way Gwendolyn jumped as she watched Humfrey drop his lance.
“What a cheat..” Lynara mused beside you, shaking her head in disapproval.
Just as quickly as the first pass ended, the next began, with Humfrey’s squire handing him another lance before he sprung back into action.
Rapidly approaching each other once more, your brows furrowed.
“Something’s wrong..” you whispered, not sure what, but feeling the anxiety grow in your stomach.
Within seconds, the tension had been split apart as the horse screeched as Aerion drove his lance into its neck, the crowd erupting in a mix of screams and outraged yells.
Your hand flew to your mouth as you let out a cry of shock, unable to look away as the poor animal cried out in pain before finally falling, landing directly onto your brother-in-law.
Gwendolyn rose from her seat with a scream, crying out her husband’s name.
Following quickly, you held her tightly as she watched Humfrey’s helmet fall off, the man spitting blood from his mouth as his leg was shattered.
As you and Gwendolyn began to move out of the stands, you could hear the crowd beginning to boo, the prince’s poor sportsmanship creating an outrage.
Holding your sister’s hand tight in your own, Lynara followed the two of you out of the stands and onto the field where Gwendolyn’s hand slipped from your gasp and she ran ahead, past the guards before they could stop her.
Calling her husband’s name as he was pulled from under his horse, she helped as best as she could as the two men hoisted Humfrey’s arms over their shoulders and began carrying him away to get medical attention.
Stopping at the entrance to the field, Lynara placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place though you attempted to follow after your sister as they disappeared inside his tent.
“The maesters will see to him.” she reassured you, guiding you away from the erupting chaos as small folk began to climb over the fences to try and attack the prince.
-
You’d waited until you were alone to begin shedding your tears, the sound of the horses screeches of pain still echoing in your head as you sat down at the top of a hill overlooking the tourney grounds.
Using your sleeve to wipe your tears, you sniffled softly and pulled your knees up to your chest.
Such a needless amount of suffering imposed on an innocent animal, not to mention the way you’d watched your sister run to her husband.
You’d never in your life seen her like that, the fear in her eyes replaying in your mind over and over like a demented puppet show.
Startled by the sound of your name, you raised your head to see Raymun approaching from downhill, his eyes laced with concern.
“Raymun.” you gasped softly, unable to hide the way your lip was wobbling and your eyes filling with tears
Without any hesitation, you stood and ran to him, crashing into his arms and into his welcome embrace, burying your face in his chest.
Holding you tightly, he allowed your muffled cries to leave you as he rubbed your back and shushed you softly.
Raymun had only ever seen you cry twice before, the first time when he had met you, and the second..
-
The ladies in waiting had been practicing this dance for weeks, you included, a surprise for Lynara’s name day.
Hands joined together, the band of musicians began to play the melody and you began as was practiced.
Moving back and forth with precision, you kept an eye on your feet as you all spun and clapped in unison.
Raymun had laughed when you told him you were planning to dance with the other ladies, you were intent to prove him wrong.
Keeping a keen concentration on your timing, you switched places with another lady with ease, coming side by side with Eleira, another lady from House Florent, who’d seem to have it out for you from the moment you met.
“You dance like a goat.” she whispered, keeping her eyes forward.
Trying to ignore her words and continue to dance, you spun once more, another clap.
Finally you heard the flute playing the final part of the tune, nearing the end of the dance, and felt yourself finally begin to relax for the first time since you’d started.
Preparing for the final turn, you stepped inwards along with the other ladies, and prepared to step out.
A carefully placed leg sticking out seemed to be all that was needed to send you tumbling to the ground.
The sound of quiet gasps echoed as you collided with the stone floor, the other ladies continuing to dance and ignoring your mishap as your eyes flashed at all of the faces of the crowded hall.
Scrambling to your feet, you turned and began to run out of the hall, pushing through the crowd as tears began to well up and your vision grew cloudy.
Cold air hit your face as you swung the doors open and you picked up your skirts to run to the apple orchard.
Almost tripping as you entered, you caught your weight on the base of a tree and kneeled down, letting your tears fall as you sat on the ground.
The golden flower accessories in your hair had loosened as you ran, now hanging by your face; raising your hand, you pulled them out and threw them on the ground below, emotion overcoming any logic.
As you wiped at your face with your palm, you heard your name being called, and soon identified the voice.
“Go away, Raymun!” you yelled, tucking your face into your hands.
It didn’t take long for the sound of footsteps to grow closer, yet you weren’t willing to let him see your tears.
Standing, you faced away from him and began to walk further into the orchard.
“If you’re just here to make fun of me, leave me alo-“
Interrupted by the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, you expected to begin yelling at him any moment, only to be silenced when he pulled you against his chest.
“I saw what Eleria did.” he said softly, “she’s nothin’ but jealous of you.”
His words were soothing, enough to have you silently resting your cheek against his chest as you sniffled.
You stared out into the orchard as Raymun held you, held your shaking body and soothed your tears.
-
Sitting in the meadow hand in hand, your head rested against Raymun’s shoulder.
“Have you heard anything about my brother-in-law?” you asked softly, your voice hoarse from crying.
Raymun shook his head.
“Lesser men have survived worse.” he encouraged, wrapping an arm around you to rub your shoulder.
“Wish it was that bastard prince that ended up with a lance through his neck.” you spat, which only made Raymun chuckle.
“Watch yourself, he’d soon have you hangin’ for treason.” he joked.
“Let him.” you shrugged.
“I’d have a sword put through my belly ‘fore I let anyone take you from me.”
His tone suddenly sounded more serious as he spoke, his hand moving to place a finger under your chin and guide you to look at him.
At first, you didn’t know what to say, opening your mouth only for nothing to come out.
“What is this..?” you finally whispered.
“Does it need to be reasoned?” Raymun spoke softly, “Can we not just exist here and now without putting a name to it?”
Instead of answering, you leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss.
Perhaps he was right, maybe the titles were best left to all the lords and ladies of renown; maybe it was easier to just accept that you and Raymun cared deeply for each other, and that it didn’t need to be explained.
Breaking the kiss, Raymun planted another on your cheek, then your forehead, causing you to laugh softly as you scrunched your nose in response to the tickled feeling.
“I do mean it.” he began, “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”
His promise touched your heart more than you had anticipated, your brows turning upwards as you stared back at him.
“And I to you.”
Your answer brought a smile to his face, leaning forward to steal one more kiss before he rose and offered you his hand.
“We should be getting back.”
-
As the pair of you had been walking back, you’d spotted the gentle giant and his small companion, talking to an old crone.
Raymun called after them and sped up his steps, walking slightly ahead of you as the crone began to turn to walk away.
Growing closer, she was just about to pass you before she gripped your wrist, pulling you in and speaking in a low tone.
“You will know a great love, and a great loss; your heart will be tested.. and torn.”
Staring back at the old crone with wide eyes, you opened your mouth but snatched your hand back before you could speak.
Watching as she began to walk away, you heard Raymun call your name, turning to see him gesturing for you to follow.
As you caught up, the young boy, Egg, looked at you, his own face seeming to be equally as unnerved by the old crones predictions.
“What did she say to you?” he asked.
Hesitating before you spoke, your eyes briefly turned to Raymun who seemed interested in what your future held.
“She told me that my sister was going to have a baby boy.” you lied smoothly, continuing ahead without another word.
With the crone’s promise heavy on your heart, you walked silently at Raymun’s side before stopping at the entrance of The Fossoway’s tent.
“Everythin’ okay?” he enquired, seeming to pause his reflex to hold your hand, remembering that you were in public view once more.
“I forgot that I need to collect water for Lynara’s bath.” you lied, struggling to make eye contact with him initially before giving him a hesitant smile.
Brows furrowing, Raymun seemed surprised, but didn’t press the matter further, only offering you a nod and a smile before stepping closer to lower his voice.
“I love you.” he whispered.
The words brought fear into your heart, your eyes widening slightly as you opened your mouth to speak but found yourself silent.
The crone’s words echoed in your mind.
‘A great love, a great loss, heart tested, heart torn.’
“And I you.” you responded, turning and walking away before you could see the look on Raymun’s face.
-
There was no clear direction in your steps as you walked, unsure where you were going, but just knowing that you wanted to keep walking.
The sun had set completely now, leaving the grounds illuminated by torches.
Stopping in front of a stall with a small crowd, you watched as a storyteller recounted the tale of two doomed lovers as a troupe of actors were silently acting it out on the stage.
“Ronal had given up everything for Johan of Lys; her kingdom, her wealth, and now here he lay, dead before her, poisoned by his brother.”
You watched as the actor playing Ronal, dressed with green silks and a painted mask in her face, fell to her knees where the other actor was now pretending to lay dead.
“Rather than face life without her love at her side, she took his own dagger from its hilt.”
The actress rose the prop dagger above her head, an exaggerated performance of mourning.
“And plunged it into her heart.”
You took a step back, the image, though made lighter with painted masks and drumming, was enough to cause you fear.
“So the star crossed lovers story ends, a tragic reminder of the mortality of the heart.”
At its conclusion, the actors rose from the ground and bowed gratefully, taking in the applause of the small crowd.
Turning away, you let out a shaky breath, trying to will your mind away from the thoughts of prophecy and fate.
A commotion in the distance caught your attention, the rush of a moving crowd along with a distant scream.
Only a few tents away, you could see people running in opposite directions, the sparks of a fire pit being toppled over by a guard.
Unable to tell what was happening, you spun around looking back and fourth, trying to look for anything that let you know.
As you approached the tent, you caught sight of Raymun running alongside Ser Duncan, and sped up to catch up with them, calling Raymun’s name.
“What’s happening?” you called over the noise of the crowd.
“It’s Aerion!” he replied, grabbing onto your shoulders to keep you steady, “He’s breakin’ her gods damned fingers!”
Looking ahead, you finally caught sight of it, Aerion, holding the poor puppeteer in place as she cried and tried to fight against his grip.
“Someone stop him!” you cried.
As a sickening crunch was heard, followed by the shrill scream of the girl, you watched as Ser Duncan lunged forward, raising his fist and bringing it down upon the prince’s face.
Within little time, Duncan had brought Aerion to the ground, though not before being apprehended by three guards, even with the three of them struggling to hold him back.
The roar of the crowd died down to a sickened silence as Aerion rose slowly, spitting blood from his mouth.
As Raymun held onto your arm, you both watched with wide eyes as you waited to see what would befall Ser Duncan.
“Why did you throw your life away for this whore?” Aerion questioned, “She’s scarcely worth it.”
His words made your blood boil, as you watched the poor girl sitting there petrified and shaking.
“She’s a traitor; the dragon ought never lose.”
Turning to look at Raymun, the pair of you exchanged a glance.
“We need to do something.” you whispered.
“Shut up.” Raymun hissed, obviously trying to protect you, even if his words were harsh.
“You’ve loosened one of my teeth,” Aerion spoke, his voice eerily calm.
“So we’ll start by breaking out all of yours.”
Placing a hand over your mouth, you gasped as Ser Duncan began to fight against the guards hold.
Before you could look any longer, Raymun pulled you into his chest, shielding your eyes from what you were sure was going to be a horrendous sight.
“No!” you heard a shrill voice, “Don’t hurt him!”
Looking back up quickly, you recognised Egg’s voice, readying yourself to reach for him if the guards attempted to go for him as well.
“You stupid boy! Hold your tongue or they’ll hurt you!”
Despite Ser Duncan’s warning, Egg stood in place.
“No they won’t, if they do, they’ll answer to my father.”
You furrowed your brows as Egg spoke, unsure as to what in The Seven Hells he meant.
As the young boy barked out orders, calling the guards by name, they reluctantly let go of Ser Duncan.
“You impudent little rat, what’s happened to your hair?” Aerion questioned.
Your eyes widening, you realised that not only did these guards know the boy, so did the prince.
“I cut it off, brother, I didn’t want to look like you.”
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,417
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking, jousting, threats, steffon being awful, some light teasing, light steamyness.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the fact ive been able to pump out three chapters in three days is truly astonishing, but the reception to this series has honestly been amazing, yall keep me motivated to write more! all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
The sound of roosters first crow of morning had startled you awake, nearly falling out of your bed first thing in the morning, not the start you were hoping for.
Across from you, Lynara still snored softly, her dark hair falling over her face and her mouth hung open; that girl could sleep through anything.
Crawling out from under the plush covers which had done a fair enough job of keeping you warm throughout the night, you trudged barefooted across the carpet that had been set up as a makeshift floor over the grass and reached for the hair brush sitting close by.
By the time you had dressed yourself, Lynara was rising slowly but steadily.
Groaning softly as she stretched, she let out a yawn.
“What’s for breakfast?” she enquired sleepily, offering a tired smile as you came over and sat on the edge of her bed.
“I think one of the bakers mentioned he was going to bring some lemon cakes when he made his morning rounds.”
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Lynara smiled and rolled over, tucking herself back under the sheets.
“Wake me up when he brings them.”
Rolling your eyes but smiling none the less, you stood from her bed and left the tent, grabbing a basket on the way.
It was still early at Ashford meadow, the sun only just risen and the birds only just beginning to sing; the only other people awake at this time were the stall holders setting up for the day.
You balanced the basket in your hip as you looked over the options one particular stall had on display, trying to think what would be best for breakfast.
“The pears are from Highgarden, m’lady; best in The Reach.”
The woman running the stall was older, but held a kind face, taking one of the pears and handing it to you so you could inspect it.
“Give me three.” you requested, reaching for the coin purse that hung at your waist.
“Four coppers.” she responded, grabbing the pears as you reached for the coins.
With the exchange concluded, you placed the pears in the basket and moved on, gathering a small spread of cheeses and meats to have for breakfast.
Taking your time with the walk back was slightly selfish on your part, a way to enjoy the fresh morning air and walk around without crowds of people surrounding you constantly.
As the sigil of the red apple finally came up, you approached the large tents to see a familiar face preparing Steffon’s armor and sharpening his sword.
“How’s the head?” you enquired with a smirk.
Raymun looked up from his cousin's sword and offered up what could only be described as a grimace and a smile all at once.
“Never let me drink that much honey wine again; I was spewin’ this mornin’ you know.”
Laughing softly, you reached into the basket and pulled out one of the pears you’d bought, holding it out as you sat beside him.
You were sure he would have preferred a pigeon pie to nurse his stomach, but you knew the fruit was a better choice, even if he didn’t want it.
Still, he took it from your hand gratefully and hesitated before taking a bite, chewing slowly and methodically as if he was worried he might bring it back up.
“You didn’t have to do that.” he spoke with a mouthful of fruit.
“Finish your bite before you spit it back at me.” you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes.
Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued to chew before finally swallowing.
“You shouldn’t waste your money on the likes a’ me..” he said with a chuckle, all before taking another hungry bite.
“Don’t have anyone else to waste it on.” you replied with a shrug.
Skeptical but seemingly not willing to argue any longer, Raymun continued to eat the fruit in silence as you sat beside him and watched the sun begin to finally climb its way over the hillside, bathing you in warm morning light that made you sigh happily.
Standing from your spot, you balanced the basket on your hip once more.
“Tell Steffon if he gives you a hard time today, I'll sort him myself.”
You knew Steffon was jousting tonight, and you also didn’t doubt that tensions were likely to be high, you’d seen his wrath on more than one occasion, and it would have been a lie to say you weren’t worried on Raymun’s behalf.
“Oh aye, I'll be sure to let you crack him up the back of the head for me!” Raymun called as you walked away, a smile plastered over your features.
-
With your morning duties finished and out of the way, you had a spot of free time before you would need to begin helping Lynara prepare for the joust, and used it to walk across the camp grounds to the tent that held the rest of your family.
Already outside and swinging at a training dummy, Humfrey grinned widely when he saw you approaching, dropping his sword to meet you halfway and give you another tight hug.
“The night treated you better than me, then?” Humfrey commented, gesturing to the dark circles under his eyes, clearly having slept very little after such a big night.
“Late nights of drinking and dancing are kinder to me because I don’t make a habit out of them.” you snarked, receiving a pinch in your side which had you squealing softly.
Entering the tent with Humfrey, you quickly spotted Gwendolyn occupying herself with a crosstitch, visibly frustrated.
“Nobody’s forcing you to do that, you know?” you spoke, causing Gwendolyn to look up and drop the cross stitch onto the table defiantly.
“I have to keep myself entertained somehow.” she sighed, resting a hand in her belly as she raised her arm for you to sit beside her.
“Where’s father?” you asked as you sat down.
“Off giving his greetings to the prince’s.” Humfrey spoke up as he poured himself a goblet of wine.
Letting out a hum of acknowledgement, you leaned back on the lounge and fiddled with the end of your braid.
“You’re jousting tonight then?” you asked, to which Humfrey nodded.
“Here’s to hoping I don’t get knocked off in the first round, that’d just be fucking embarrassing.” he sighed.
“You’ll be fine, Tully was drinking so much last night i’ll be surprised if he can stay on his bloody horse.” Gwendolyn commented, earning a laugh from Humfrey.
“Trouble is, sister, i’m pretty sure I was drinking more than him.”
“You’ll be evenly matched then.” she replied.
This wasn’t new, for as long as you could remember, your older siblings had always made a game of being at each other’s throats with words; you weren’t complaining, it was always entertaining to see the creative ways they would playfully insult one another.
-
As the joust grew closer and the sun began to set, you’d said your goodbyes to Gwendolyn, wished Humfrey luck, and set off back in the direction of the Fossoways tents.
With a chill beginning to make itself known, you raised the hood of your cloak and tucked your knuckles into your sleeves in an attempt to keep a resistance against the growing cold.
From the moment the Fossoay’s tent’s came into view, you quickened your stride, the anxiety at the back of your mind somehow convincing you that you were already late.
Stopping in your tracks, however, from the moment you caught sight of Raymun leaving the tent holding his hand against his cheek.
The moment you called his name, he turned his face away from you, a poor attempt at hiding before you reached him, gripping his wrist and wrenching his hand away from his face.
Across his cheek bone with a reddened mark and a shallow cut, not quite bleeding, but deep enough to have stung.
“What happened?” you gasped, running a thumb over the cut only for Raymun to hiss softly.
“It’s nothin’.” he lied, still attempting to turn away from you.
Gripping his shoulder and spinning him back to face you, he kept his head hung.
“Its not nothing, Raymund.” you scolded, letting out a frustrated huff before gripping his wrist and dragging him towards where you knew you could get water.
Dipping a rag into the barrel of cold water not far from the tent’s, you slowly brought it up to Raymun’s cheek, who was standing there with his arms to his sides and still not meeting your eyes.
From the moment you touched the cut with the damp rag, he jumped instinctively which earnt him a soft slap on the shoulder from you.
“Stay still.” you muttered, biting your lip in concentration as you attempted to calm the angry cut.
“S’ my fault.” Raymun began, “I bent the armor when I was cleanin’ it.”
“And you think that meant you deserve to get backhanded?” you sighed, dipping the rag once more and squeezing the excess water out.
“He called me worthless.” He muttered, clearly more hurt by the insult than he was willing to let on.
“Well you’re not.” you snapped, raising your voice more than you’d intended, “Steffon’s just a cunt who think’s being a brute make’s him a man.”
Using your spare hand to grip his chin, you forced Raymun to look at you, narrowing your eyes at him.
“You’re not worthless, if I hear you talking like that, i’ll backhand you myself.”
Even if your threat was hardly taken seriously, it at least brought a smile to Raymun’s face, the way he let you hold his chin as you continued to clean the wound and pat at it softly to try and ease some of the redness.
Before you could say anything else to one another, a horn sounded out from the jousting grounds, a signal that it was due to begin soon.
Turning back to look at Raymun, you realised you had still been holding onto his chin, only to quickly let go and clearing your throat as you dropped the rag back onto the small table beside you.
“I have to help Lynara prepare.” you spoke softly, standing slowly as Raymun followed your action.
“Come see me.. After the joust.” Raymun spoke, hesitance clear on his features.
Staying silent initially, you turned to look at him before smiling softly and nodding.
“Okay.”
-
As the joust had begun, you’d been ushered into the stands by Gwendolyn, who’d spotted you walking with Lynara and insisted you both sit at her side to watch Humfrey.
Following the introduction of the royal family which caused an eruption of cheers, the horn blew once more to signal the beginning as knights began to emerge on horseback.
First you saw the golden antlers which you knew to belong to House Baratheon, followed by the green flame of the Hightowers.
House Tully’s display had been more than clear, as Medgar Tully rode in front of the cheering smallfolk and held a dead trout high above his head, screaming a tribute to the old gods and the new, before taking a bite.
The sight made you grimace, with Gwendloyn placing a hand over her mouth.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” she croaked, causing you place a hand on her back as you laughed.
Just as quickly as she had spoken, she was distracted by the appearance of her husband, her eyes lighting up as the sigil of red and white diamonds appeared.
Cheering and clapping her hands, you clapped along for your brother in law, who raised his fist as he rode into place alongside the other knights.
Before you even had a moment to pause, the horn blew once more, followed by the deep galloping of hooves against the ground as lances were lowered.
As the first impact and splintering of the lances began, it was followed by a deep groan by the crowd watching, only to melt into cheering once more.
You watched Gwendolyn’s face as Humfrey turned at the end of the line and began to storm forward once more, his opponent carrying the sigil of House Payne, only to knock him off of his horse on the second pass.
She cheered next to you, resting a hand against her bump proudly; the image made you smile, you were happy on behalf of your sister, if there had been anyone more deserving of a match of love, it was her.
The joust continued to be enjoyed by all, with minimal injury to be celebrated, it remained a relatively blood free event.
At its conclusion, you walked arm in arm with Gwendolyn as you accompanied her back to The Beesbury tent, both Humfrey’s trailing behind you sharing a pig skin flask of ale.
“To the champion of the joust! My brother by law!” your brother claimed, raising the flask above his head before taking a sip.
Turning to look at her husband and brother, Gwendolyn laughed at the two of them before facing ahead once more.
“It’s soon time you get a husband of your own, isn’t it?”
Her words made you almost stumble as you walked, shaking your head and letting out a groan.
“I’m serious!” she laughed, “You can’t stay as Lynara’s for your entire life.”
“Watch me do just that, live out my days as a maid, I shall be as pious as Baelor The Blessed.” you responded, stopping as you arrived at the entrance of the tent.
Skeptical, but no longer interested in pushing the matter further, Gwendolyn simply rolled her eyes and turned to face you.
“Will you come inside?” she asked.
Remembering the promise you had made, you shook your head.
“I can’t.”
Raising her eyebrow inquisitively, she saw right through your simple answer yet didn’t pry.
“Well be safe, and get a good rest, Humfrey’s jousting again tomorrow, he claims he intends to unhorse Prince Aerion.”
She spoke with a roll of her eyes as she turned to glance at her husband who was now dancing drunkenly with your brother, the pair of them humming a tune.
“Goodnight, sister.” you concluded with a hug and a kiss to her cheek, before turning to begin the walk back.
It hadn’t taken you long to realise that despite agreeing to meet Raymun after the joust, you hadn’t agreed as to where, leaving you peering around as you walked to try and find him.
Though you did find somebody as you approached the Fossoway’s tent, it wasn’t who you had hoped.
In fact you already found your blood boiling the moment you made eye contact with Steffon.
You’d hoped he’d have kept his mouth shut as you walked past, yet when he noticed the pointed glare you aimed at him, he piped up rather quickly.
“You got somethin’ you want to say to me?” he spat, leaning his weight on one foot and narrowing his eyes at you.
No longer willing to pass by silently, you whipped around and stomped up to him.
“If you ever strike Raymun again, i’ll wring you by the balls.” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.
Turning to walk away you were stopped by Steffon’s grip on your upper arm, yanking you back.
“You may be my sister’s lady, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have you sent back to your shithole at Honeyholt.”
“Don’t touch me.” you snapped, ripping your arm from his grasp.
Storming away from him, his words sent a lump into your throat, your hands shaking with rage as you continued without any semblance of where you were headed, just that you needed to be away from the crowds that littered the camp ground.
It was just as you finally reached the end of the camp grounds that you heard the familiar voice of Raymun calling your name.
Sat next to him was the gentle giant you had seen the day before, along with a little lad you hadn’t seen.
As Raymun waved you over to where the trio were sitting under one of the meal tents, you composed yourself and walked over.
Standing at the table, you offered a kind smile to the two strangers as Raymun introduced you, giving them your name.
“This Ser Duncan The Tall;” he gestured to the big one, “And his squire, Egg.”
The little one’s name made you laugh, an unusual name, but not exactly ill fitting you supposed.
“Ser Duncan means to join the lists.” Raymun mentioned, which has you raising an eyebrow.
Even for a hedge knight, he seemed down on his luck, judging by the rope that was acting as a sheath holder for his sword, and the state of his clothes.
“May The Warrior grant you his blessings.” you offered with a nod.
“Thank you.” Duncan finally spoke, his voice just as deep as you had expected for his stature.
“Ser Duncan,” Egg spoke softly, tapping him on the arm, “We still need to speak with Steely Pate.”
Nodding, Duncan stood from his place and nodded politely at you.
“Good luck, Ser Duncan.”
He returned your words with a smile and another nod, toddling away with Egg at his side.
Turning to Raymun, you smiled at him while gesturing to the pair with your thumb.
“You made friends with the giant, then?” you teased, sitting across from him at the table.
Ignoring your comment but sending a playful glare your way, Raymun pointed to the barrels that had been set up with various ales and wines.
“Do ya’ want anythin?” he offered, beginning to stand.
“Ale’s fine.” you replied, reaching for the coin purse sat against your hip, only for Raymun to put his hand out.
“I’m returnin’ the favour for this mornin’.”
Leaving you without the option of refusal, you simply held your hands up in surrender.
“By all means, then.”
Just as quickly as he ran off, he returned with two iron cups of ale, a smile plastered over his features as he sat across from you once more.
Taking a generous sip of the ale, neither of you said anything initially, until Raymun spoke up.
“Was that your sister? the one you were sittin’ with during the joust?”
Nodding your head in response, you took another sip.
“My brother’s are here too, haven’t seen them in years.” you laughed softly.
“I didn’t know you Humfrey Hardyng’s sister by law now.” he joked, causing you to role your eyes.
“They only wed a year or so after I left,” you shrugged, “She’s pregnant now too.”
Pausing to take another sip, you tucked some hair behind your ear.
“According to her, it’s to be my turn soon enough.”
That seemed to grab Raymun, his gaze hardening slightly at the mention of you getting married.
He didn’t speak for a few moments, looking back down at his ale.
“Is that somethin’ you want to do?”
His question caused you to shrug.
“Hadn’t thought about it all that much if i’m being honest..”
Your answer was honest for the most part, before recently, it hadn’t even crossed your mind.
“What if I just wanted to stay in Lynara’s service for the rest of my life.. what if I don’t want to squeeze out heirs for some lord just cause people say that’s what I’m meant to do..”
Huffing, you took another sip of your ale before speaking again.
“Isn’t that what men want? Heirs to carry on their name.. boys to train to fight and girls to look after them when they go old and grey?”
As you concluded your speech, you noticed Raymun watching you with a half cocked smile, amused.
“Oh you think it’s funny how, wait till your father makes you marry some pig-faced girl and tells you to put a baby in her!”
You laughed as you spoke, pointing at Raymun as your words only made him laugh along with you.
“It’s easy for you lot, all you have to do is bed us, then we’re expected to go through all the pain and the blood.”
Pausing for a moment, you narrowed your eyes and lowered your voice.
“Whoever marries you’s gonna have a hard time looking at your ugly mug when it comes time for the bedding.”
Faking insult, Raymun shook his head.
“You know I've got a face like a young milk maiden.” he protested sarcastically, “You think your future husband’s gonna have to take you from behind so he can actually make an heir?”
Opening your mouth, you let out a shocked laugh before raising your hand to try and deliver a slap to Raymun’s chest across the table, only for him to catch your wrist before impact could be made.
Maybe it was the ale talking, or the adrenaline left over from the joust; the pair of you were used to trading playful insults with one another, but there was something else rising up with all this talk of bedding.
“I’ll not have you layin’ a hand on me, or i’ll put you over my knee.”
“The seven hells would freeze over before I let you.” you teased, snatching back your wrist before standing from your seat.
“That a challenge, then?” he countered, chugging the remainder of his ale as you turned and began to break out into a light sprint away from the tables and up towards the tree line in the distance.
You didn’t look back to see if he was following behind you, you didn’t need to, you’d known Raymun for almost four years now, he was easy to rile.
Passing the threshold of the tree’s, you grinned as you began to slow down and hid behind a thick tree base, trying to listen out for footsteps.
Your heart thrummed in your ears through the silence occasionally broken by the sound of an owl or the distant sound of yelling and cheers from the camp grounds.
A twig snapping not far behind you sent you taking off again, laughing loudly as you heard Raymun’s footsteps quicken with your own.
You continued to run, spotting a break in the trees in the distance and pushing yourself to reach it.
As a pair of arms reached around your waist and held you in place, you let out a squeal that began to melt into laughter, startled but amused all the same.
Raymun lifted you with ease, manhandling you as he stepped into the small meadow the pair of you had reached before he let go and allowed you both to collapse onto the soft grass below you.
Rolling onto your back, you panted from your run and stared up at the night sky, admiring the way it was littered with stars.
Beside you, Raymun was laid on his back and looking at you, watching as you met his eyes and held his gaze.
With little hesitation, you reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with your own, just as you had done the night previously.
It was clear from his eyes that he was just as nervous as he was determined, opening his mouth to speak before stopping.
“What is it?” you whispered.
“Can I kiss you? Properly this time..?”
This time it was your turn to be silent, holding his gaze for a few moments before you sat up.
Quickly following your action, Raymun seemed to be bracing himself for rejection once more.
Yet when you nodded slowly, he let out a nervous exhale with a smile and reached forward to place a hand on your cheek.
At first, it was soft, his plush lips barely touching your own, his nose bumping against your own as you both smiled before attempting it again.
This time, you could taste the cider on his lips, feel the want radiating off of him when he placed a hand on the side of your neck.
It seemed as if time was moving independently, like mere seconds and hours had passed all the same before he broke the seal of your kiss but remained close enough that you could feel his exhale against your lips.
“You taste like honey wine..” he whispered, making your heart leap, before he leaned forward to kiss you once more.
As if a string had snapped, you felt Raymun moving to put a hand on your waist, gently guiding you to lay on your back once more as he held himself above you.
His hands didn’t attempt to explore further without permission, only held onto your hip as he kissed you deeply, soft exhales leaving your throat as began to kiss along your jawline and down to your neck.
He wasn’t rough, yet he seemed to be restraining himself, placing softer kisses along the skin of your throat as you shut your eyes and ran your fingers through his curls.
Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped the moment you opened your eyes once more and spotted a small garden snake a meter or so away from the pair of you.
Out of reflex, you let out a scream and Raymun threw himself off of you only to watch as you began to scramble across the grass to get away from the small animal.
Letting out a laugh, Raymun stood, scooping his arms behind your back and under your knees to lift you up off the ground.
“Not quite a dragon, but just as fearsome.” he joked, watching your petrified expression and wide eyes following the snake as it slithered past and disappeared into a bush.
“You can put me down now.” you finally spoke with a relieved sigh.
“What if I don’t want to?” he teased, only to receive a glare from you before he obeyed.
Keeping his hands on your waist, Raymun rested his forehead against your own and pulled you against his chest.
Even if you did not share another kiss, you both shut your eyes as you shared an embrace and both laughed softly at the interruption.
“It’s late.” you finally spoke, “people will be wondering where we are..”
Pulling away, Raymun nodded and took your hand in his own.
“Aye, I’m sure they’re arranging a search party as we speak.” he laughed softly, placing a quick kiss on your forehead.
Beginning the walk back in the direction of the camp grounds, you kept your hand tightly in Raymun’s.
Upon arriving back, you bid him goodnight, stopping him from stealing another kiss before somebody would see, and disappeared back into your tent for the night.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,421
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking (again), young people not knowing how to communicate, mild violence.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: chapter two was released far quicker then i anticipated, i cant promise this will be normal but im simply hyperixated on this series! all graphics done by @cafekitsune !!!
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
Admittedly, you were surprised you’d been able to avoid Raymun for the entirety of the three day journey to Ashford, staying in the carriage alongside your lady for the majority of the trip, you had been able to manage the entire ride without even coming across him.
It seemed she had noticed your apprehension, on day two of the ride, she asked you to join her for a brief stroll when the riding party had stopped at a tavern for the night, only for you to look at her as if she’d asked you to walk across hot coals.
Making a point to walk along the tree line, far away from where the rest of the Fossoway’s had set up a simple camp, you stared at the ground and kept your fingers intertwined in front of you.
“Something’s amiss with you.” she finally spoke, peering at you inquisitively.
“Lynara-” you began, ready to deny her claims before she held a hand up.
“I have known you since you were only young, do you really think you can lie to me?”
Your silence only confirmed her claim, even more so when you let out a frustrated huff and began to walk ahead of her.
“What is it?” she pressed, laughing softly as she jogged lightly to catch up with you, “Is it a boy?” she asked excitedly, clapping her hands together.
“No.” you answered, a bit too quickly for it to be convincing, though you quickly covered it up with a different excuse, “I’m just nervous to see my brothers again..”
If Lynara was skeptical of your answer, she didn’t show it, simply nodded slowly.
“Yes I suppose it had been several years since you’ve seen them.. You still write to Humfrey though? Yes?”
Nodding your head, you fiddled with the fabric of your dress where it had began to fray over time, tugging at the thin threads.
“And your sister will be there won’t she? With her new husband, Ser Hardyng?”
“She will.”
“Well then what is there to be nervous about?” she shrugged, “I’m sure they will be happy to see you!”
“I suppose you’re right..”
You were grateful that you’d been able to avoid the topic of Raymun entirely, the last thing you wanted was to discuss what had happened between the two of you to his own cousin, much less when it had the potential to damage your place in her service.
Managing to avoid any further conversation on the matter, you fought with yourself for the rest of the night, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep no matter how many times you hit your goosefeather pillow or rearranged your position.
-
The sun had only just begun to rise when the riding party continued on the next morning, arriving at Ashford just as it finally climbed it’s way to the top of the sky; by the time it reached mid-afternoon, the Fossoway’s tent was assembled and ready.
Taking the time to help set up Lynara’s own tent, you prepared a fresh change of clothes for her and helped her change.
Now sitting by her side at the entrance, wooden chairs set up along with a small table of wine and fruits, you watched her fan herself as she watched the many armoured men walk past, all carrying an array of shields and weapons.
“Gods, the armor gets bigger each year.” she scoffed with a sly smile, picking a grape from its bunch before popping it into her mouth, “Look at that, do you think Ser Manderly could have fit a bigger codpiece on his armor.”
Pointing to where the Manderly’s tent had been set up, your eyes followed where she was pointing, only to see a poor squire struggling with large pieces of armor, obviously fitted to somebody who’s body was heavier set than most.
The gossip that would normally have made you laugh only brought a soft hum from your throat, nodding absentmindedly.
Either not noticing or choosing not to comment on it, Lynara continued to comment on passer by’s; people watching had always been a favourite past time of her’s, something she’d grown to pick up on as you spent time in her service.
“Did you hear that Lord Florent had to borrow even more from the Iron Bank in order to pay for his daughter’s wedding?” she chuckled, shaking her head.
Too caught up in your own thoughts, you stayed silent, which she noticed, leaning forward in her chair to look at you.
“Are you listening?” she asked with a laugh, waving her hand in front of your face.
“What?” you jumped, turning to look at her, only to see her shaking her head.
“Your mind is truly elsewhere if you don’t want to listen to my gossip.” she spoke, her smile letting you know she wasn’t angered, only amused. “Why don’t you go find your brother, last I heard he was drinking of Lord Baratheon’s tent.”
Opening your mouth to refuse, Lynara only held up a hand.
“Ah, ah, I won’t hear it; go, I’ll be fine without you by my side for an hour or so.”
In truth, you had been eager to see your brother.
The only person you had continued to write to from home, or more so the only person who would write back, Humfrey was the youngest son, but an older brother to you still.
Before you had left Honeyholt, you and Humfrey had been close, but it had now been almost four years since you had seen him in the flesh. It was him who had written to you to inform you of your sister’s marriage, as well as the Beesbury’s attendance to the tourney at Ashford.
‘I hope to see you there, sister, it’s been so long, I want to see what you’ve grown into thanks to that strict diet of apples and fish.’
You recalled the words of his letter as you walked through the sea of tents, eyeing off the sigils to try and find your own. It wouldn’t be difficult, what with the colours of yellow and black sticking out easily, but the trek was straining thanks to the ground that had grown muddy and slippery from the number of people walking through.
Spotting the stag of House Baratheon first, you quickly saw the sigil of House Beesbury across the Baratheon’s tent.
Speeding up your stride, you pushed through the last of the mud before finally reaching the entrance of The Baratheons tent; lifting the heavy curtain away to peer inside.
Almost immediately, music filled your ears, the sound of a fiddle being played along with soft drumming. You had heard of Lord Baratheon and his penchant for celebration, you it wasn’t surprising that his tent was a deal more lively than other even in the middle of the day.
Stepping inside, you scanned the sea of faces in search of anything familiar, even if it was likely that Humfrey’s face had changed a great deal since you’d seen him, yet you still held out hope.
Continuing through, you politely shifted past people and stood taller to peer over shoulders.
“Sister!”
Before you had a chance to turn around to face the source of the voice, you were pulled into a tight hug and hit a firm chest, your cheek smushing against a cotton over shirt that was embroidered with beehives.
Your brother swung you from side to side excitedly before finally letting you go, but keeping a grip on your upper arm.
Humfrey hadn’t changed all that much, aside from the facial hair, he seemed to have stayed realtively similar to when you had last seen him.
You smiled brightly, eye’s lighting up as you leaned in for another hug and gave a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Oh look at you! I can’t believe you’re right here in front of me!” Humfrey spoke, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at you proudly, “Come, you must meet my friends.”
Without waiting for a response, Humfrey placed a hand on your shoulder and began to guide you further into the tent, weaving past people until he finally came to a table where two other men were sat.
“Boys! This is my sister, the one I was telling you about.”
He presented you to his friends with a wide grin, waiting expectantly.
The first man looked up and offered a friendly smile and a respectful nod, the other two following soon after.
Holding out his hand, Humfrey ran through their names.
“Ser Jorrehn Westerling, and his brother Harding.”
Responding with a polite curtsy, you smiled.
“A Pleasure, Sers.”
“All the same to you, my lady.” Jorrehn replied.
The third man, copper haired and green eyed, stood from his chair and leaned across the table to take your hand, placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.
“Ser Samuel Redwyne, my lady.” his voice was delicate, almost musical, and his smile was kind.
“Ser Samuel’s the one who knocked me off my horse back at Highgarden.”
You remembered that being mentioned in one of your brothers letters some months ago, nodding in understanding, you laughed softly.
“Ah, I’ve heard of you.” you chuckled.
“As have I of you.” he responded, sitting back into his chair and taking a sip of his wine, “Just as fair as you were described.”
Looking to your brother, unsure how to respond at first, he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and began to turn you back around.
“Alright, thats enough!” he laughed, beginning to softly push you away, “I’ll not have the wolves descending on by little sister!”
Looking back briefly, you could see Samuel laughing softly, still keeping his eyes on you. His gaze only made you smile and look back in the other direction.
Leading back through the way you came, Humfrey leaned in with a softer voice.
“Seem’s you may secure a match before the tourney is even concluded.” he teased, only to be met with a harsh slap to the shoulder from you.
“I have no interest in any match.” you sighed.
Nearing the exit of the tent, you turned your head from one last look at the faces within, only to find your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with Raymun.
He seemed to be scowling, cripping a gobelt of wine so hard his knuckles were going white.
Out of reflex, you quickly avoided his gaze, feeling your heart leap as you stepped out of the tent and back outside.
Staring ahead, you began to pick at your dress, a nervous habit you had found yourself partaking in often.
“Father will want to see you.” Humfrey began, beginning to lead you to the tent across the path, the sigil of House Beesbury hanging above it.
That made you stop in your tracks, the thought of seeing your father again after all this time.
It had been different to see Humfrey again, he had actually continued to write to you over the years, yet your ravens to your father had gone unanswered. He had seemingly washed his hands of you.
“I don’t think he will.” You spoke softly, watching as Humfrey turned and furrowed his brows.
“What do you mean? He’ll be happy to see you again..” he spoke as if it was obvious.
But he had stayed with your father, he had recieved a knighthood, likely received the praise from him that you had never recieved.
Noticing your apprehension, Humfrey sighed and took your hand.
“At least come and see Gwendolyn.” he began, “she’s with child, it will do her some good to see you again.”
Raising your eyebrows, your eyes widened when you heard this news.
“Gwendolyn is pregnant?”
Nodding his head with a smile, Humfrey continued to lead you towards the tent.
“We only found out a few weeks ago, when I told her you would be here, she wouldn’t stop talking about it for days.”
You hadn’t been told that Gwendolyn was going to be at the tourney, under the initial impression that perhaps she would be spending time with her new husband, having only been wed at the beginning of the year.
Your only and eldest sister had always been close to your heart; when you were first told you would be leaving for Cider Hall, she had been one of the only people to protest your absence, you weren’t surprised that father had gone ahead and promptly married her off.
As far as you had been told in letters, the match was a good one, with the couple getting along well and seeming to have no issues.
Making your way into the tent, the familiar sight of beehives etched into the stitching of the curtains and the images of bumblebee’s brought you right back to the halls of Honeyholt, the home you hadn’t seen for years.
As soon as you entered, you heard your name, recognising the voice as your eldest brother, sitting as a squire was helping to tighten his armor.
“Hello, brother.”
You addressed him respectfully, bowing your head politely.
“It’s good to see you.”
His greeting was nowhere as excited as Humfrey’s, seeming as if your presence barely made a difference, but you expected that.
The pair of you were so far in age it was difficult to bond over anything, so you aligned yourselves to maintain the respect of being family, but continued to be rather indifferent to one another.
“How is your wife?” you asked, only for him to laugh softly.
“Worrying after me, as always.”
He’d already been married when you left for Cider hall, he already had two children, your nephews, but they were back at Honeyholt no doubt.
“She didn’t want me to enter the lists; but I promised Ralof i’d come back with a victory.”
One of his sons, you hadn’t met either of them.
Nodding, you heard another voice outside of the tent that was steadily getting louder, it sounded excited.
Entering at Humfrey’s side, Gwendolyn’s eyes lit up the moment she saw you, letting out a cheerful gasp as she moved as fast as she could with the small bump that was just beginning to make itself known.
Gwendolyn was seven years older than you, but unlike your eldest brother, you had always been close.
“Oh, I missed you!” she sighed, pulling you in for a tight hug which you returned without hesitation.
She smelled like earth and jasmine flowers, the same as she always did, it sent a flood of nostalgia down your spine.
Pulling away, she ran a hand over your cheek, taking in your appearance.
“You’ve grown so much!”
Smiling bashfully, you lowered your head to look at the bump that was currently pressed against you.
Taking a step back, Gwendolyn placed a hand on her belly.
“I know, isn’t it amazing.” she spoke with love in her voice as if she had already birthed the child.
“That’s certainly one word for it.” you laughed.
Taking your arm, Gwendolyn quickly began to lead you out of the tent and back outside into the fresh air.
“Come, we must get away from the men, I would like to talk with my sister alone.”
-
You spoke of anything and everything with Gwendolyn as you walked through the tourney arm in arm; she told you about the morning sickness she experienced on the ride from Honeyholt to Ashford, the kindness of her husband, as well as asking when you would have one of your own.
Which promptly earned her a role of your eyes.
Introducing your sister to Lynara was a highlight, the two of them, close in age, seemed to take one another immediately.
It was as if now you had two older sisters.
The three of you were now walking together towards the training grounds, Gwendolyn and Lynara chattering away about the gossip of the tourney participants, with you trailing beside them with a smile.
Sounds of swords clashing grew louder as you approached, passing under a stone archway to see all of the structures that had been prepared just for this tourney.
There was a mixed array of armored participants, some riding horses, others sparring with one another.
“Husband!” you heard Gwendolyn call, watching an armoured man on horseback turn towards the sound of her voice, only to smile and begin to trot over.
Jumping off his horse in swift movement, he embraced your sister, kissing the top of her head.
“How is my little warrior faring?” he chuckled, placing a hand over the small bump on her belly.
“Barely the size of an orange, my love.” she reminded him, amusement clear in her voice.
Turning to gesture for you to come over, you stepped forward as your sister hooked her arm in yours once more.
“My sister.” she introduced, smiling brightly.
“A pleasure to meet you.” he spoke, nodding his head.
Returning the gesture, you listened as Gwendolyn continued.
“She should join us for supper tonight! Lord Baratheon has invited us to dine in his tent.”
“Then join us she will, my love.”
Climbing back onto his horse, Ser Hardyng said his goodbyes before promptly returning to his training.
Continuing to walk through the training grounds, the sight of Lynara’s brother created a pit in your stomach.
Even more so when you realised he was swinging mercilessly at Raymun with his sword.
No matter if you hadn’t spoken to him for almost three days, the friendship you shared still remained tethered.
Perhaps you would have had the strength to stand by, to stay silent as you watched the unfair match go on.
Had it not been for the firm blow across the cheek that Steffon dealt to Raymun after kicking him through the wooden fence and throwing insults at him.
Suddenly, your avoidance of Raymun was put aside as you gathered your skirts and began to run over.
As Steffon found himself distracted with the giant of a man that had stopped to stare, you made your way to Raymun and gripped his arm.
He hadn’t seen you approach, yet when you grabbed his arm and began to help pull him up without a word, he seemed taken aback that you had even come close to him for the first time in days.
Neither of you spoke at first, simply exchanged a look that seemed to be equally as anxious as each other.
As you heard Steffon challenge the stranger, you were startled by Raymun ripping his arm from your grasp, your brows turning upwards as he took a step away from you.
“Do it Ser.” Raymun spoke, “I may not be ripe but my cousins rotten to the core; Knock the seeds out of him.”
The giant, seemingly more gentle than he appeared, politely refused.
As Ser Steffon finished the conversation with another insult and promptly stepped away to begin sparring once more, Raymun gave him a curt nod and began to stomp away.
Walking past you without a word, he barely even rose his head to look at you.
“Raymun!” you called, annoyance clear in your tone.
You wanted to be mad at him, truly you did, but there was little defence to be held when you’d been ignoring him for days.
Sighing hopelessly, you trailed back to where your sister and lady were stood, having seen the entire interaction between the pair of you.
“I thought you said there was no boy.” Lynara began, a smirk clear on your face.
“Shut it.” you snapped, crossing your arms as the two older women laughed with one another.
-
The friendship that quickly formed between your sister and your lady had quickly turned into a partnership, for here you sat in front of a mirror as your sister brushed through your hair.
Lynara was stood to the side, rummaging through the chest of gowns that had been packed for Gwendolyn so she could pick something for you to wear.
“This really isn’t-“ you began, only to be promptly shushed by Gwendolyn.
“Hush, i’m concentrating.” she whispered, beginning to braid your hair skillfully.
It seemed the pair of them were determined to dress you for dinner, as if you were a doll for them to style.
Crossing your arms, you sat in silence and allowed Gwendolyn to continue braiding your hair, all while Lynara let out a satisfied sound before lifting her chosen dress out of the chest.
“This one.” she spoke matter a factly, holding it in front of her before laying it on the chair beside you.
“Gods be good..” you sighed, running a hand over your face as the two women continued to make you up.
-
If it were possible, Lord Baratheons tent had grown even more lively as the sun retired and the feast began.
There was music as well as dancers dressed in the Baratheon colours of black and gold; spinning ribbons on sticks in a display that you thought was quite beautiful.
From the moment you sat down beside Gwendolyn and her husband, Lynara at your other side, you were entranced by the sheer joy emitting from the guests of Lord Baratheon.
Even Humfrey was on his feet, down to just his cotton undershirt and was flailing and dancing with the same friends you had met earlier in the day.
You had risen from your seat to refill your goblet, only to be promptly yanked into the sea of dancing guests by your brother, who began to spin you, all while you let out a squeal that faded into laughter.
The rhythmic clapping of the guests along to the music was enough encouragement to have you dancing at your brother's side, the earrings designed to look like golden bumblebees jingling as you bounced from foot to foot.
The Westerling brothers cheered as you found your rhythm, briefly each taking a turn to spin you before you finally stumbled into the familiar arms of Samuel Redwyne.
His grip on your waist was as gentle as his voice, as he helped you steady yourself before he took hold of your hand and began to match your steps, melting into a patterned routine as you laughed gleefully.
Swept up in the laughter and the music, when it finally concluded with one last swell, you held a hand to your face and hid your shyness to little avail.
“You dance like a swan on water, my lady.” Samuel complimented, offering you a bow of his head before stepping away, leaving you standing there smiling.
Turning to begin walking back to the table where your sister was sat, you barely made it five steps before a hand was on your arm.
Whipping your head around, you were met with the sight of Raymun’s dark eyes, his face a mix of emotions that you couldn’t quite place.
“Can I talk to you.. Please..”
You wouldn’t have refused either way, but the tone of his voice alone would have been enough to convince you even then.
Only giving him a nod, you took his hand without hesitation and headed for the exit of the tent.
The cold night air was like a wave of ice water compared to the warmth of Baratheon’s tent; it helped to ease the effect of all the honey wine you’d drank, in part due to the fact your brother was handing you goblets all night.
You didn’t look behind you as you walked around to the side of the tent, once more playing with the fabric of your dress, before quickly remembering it wasn’t yours and wrenching your hands to your sides.
Stopping in your tracks, you sat down on one of the many wooden benches placed around the perimeter of the tent and stared down at your lap.
Almost as soon as you sat down, Raymun followed suit, his knee touching your own when he sat down beside you, keeping his eyes forward as if you were both petrified to look at each other.
A brief silence passed before he finally spoke.
“I’m sorry.” he began, nervously kicking at the dirt underneath his boot.
“I don’t know why I did it.. I think..”
He paused briefly, scratching at the back of his neck.
“You were all dressed up.. you looked nice.. and I just wasn’t thinkin’ I suppose..”
You stared down at where his knee was touching your own, so nervous and yet eased all at the same time by the physical contact.
“I’m sorry I ran away..” you replied.
“No, you shouldn’t apologise for that.” he shrugged.
“It was wrong of me to kiss you like that, without even askin’… seven hells i’d have run away too.”
His comment made you laugh softly, the tension you’d been previously sharing for days disappearing just as quickly as it had initially formed.
It now felt like things were just the same as they always had been.
“Makes sense, you’d need a belly full of cider to want to kiss me…”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Raymun finally turn to look at you, his brows furrowed at your comment.
“That’s not true.” he muttered, turning back to look around absentmindedly.
“What does that mean?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
He hesitated like he was scared to answer, like what he was wanting to say would be enough to make you run away and stop talking to him all over again.
“I don’t know..” he huffed, shrugging his shoulders as if he were avoiding what he truly wanted to say.
“All I know is, when I saw you talking to that Redwyne knight, I got so mad I had to go swing at a tree with my training sword till it was blunt around the edges..”
Initially, you opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t even begin to think what to say.
Rather than say anything, you looked down at your hand, moving it forward to intertwine your fingers with Raymuns own, before leaning your head on his shoulder.
Though he hesitated at first, Raymun returned the gesture after only a few moments, gripping your hand tighter and leaning his head on top of your own.
It was nowhere near as intimate as a kiss, and yet was more intimate all at the same time, as if this meant more to both of you then a kiss would have.
It was no declaration of love by any means.
But seemed to be an acceptance that there was definitely something more than friendship between you beginning to bubble to the surface.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,587
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking, stolen first kiss, eventual canon typical nsfw themes.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so im taking one for the team and writing for dear raymun because goddamnit somebody has to! my plan is to turn this into a series with every chapter centering around each episode! i hope you enjoy! all graphics done by @cafekitsune !!!
𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
It was at the age of six-and-ten when you left your home, the sight of Honeyholt set to become a fleeting memory, your home no longer.
Becoming a lady in waiting had been your fathers idea, with two other sons to focus on, you hadn’t been surprised that he chose the easier option of shipping you off to another Lord in The Reach.
Your father was only brother to Lord Beesbury after all, and stood to inherit little, just as your brothers, the most they could strive for would be to become Knights of the realm, or marry some other lord’s daughter to gain a seat.
So naturally, when the topic of Lord Fossoway’s eldest daughter was brought up, it seemed only inevitable that you were brought into her service.
Kind enough, it had not taken long for the pair of you to form a genuine friendship; she appeared almost as an older sister to you, teaching you how to cross stitch and explaining the rules of tourney’s to you each time you were brought along to watch.
You had been born just a few years before the conclusion of the first Blackfyre rebellion, and your father had fought alongside Lord Fossoway, thus forming a friendship that you continued now with his daughter.
The life you lived wasn’t anything you could have complained about, you were well fed and dressed in soft cottons, occasionally silks on special occasions or when your lady had outgrown her own.
You know there were others that led much more sorry lives than your own.
It did not mean you didn’t miss your home, however.
That’s how you had met him.
It was a cloudy day when he’d spotted you sitting on a stone bench outside, near one of the many apple gardens planted around the border of Cider Hall.
Your very first day after arriving at the seat of House Fossoway, of course you were feeling homesick, you simply needed to get a good cry out of your system and then all would be easier.
You hadn’t noticed the boy peering around the corner of one of the stone pillars of the garden.
Obviously he hadn’t intended for you to hear him, for when he stood on a stick, the sound made your head whip up, startling him so much he nearly toppled over.
Wiping the tears from your cheeks with the sleeve of your dress, you stood, clenching your fists together before grabbing one of the fallen branches that lay on the ground near your feet.
Approaching quickly, you raised the thin branch and whacked at the boy’s leather clad shoulder as he turned away to try and soften the blow.
“Why were you watching me!” You demanded, holding it up to threaten another blow.
Holding his hands up, the boy shielded his face and shut his eyes.
“I wasn’t!” he countered, “S’not my fault you chose a shitey spot to cry!”
His accent wasn’t quite what you’d expected; not quite lowborn and yet certainly not what was the standard in The Reach.
Letting out a sound of annoyance, you dropped the stick and stomped past the boy, gripping your skirts to avoid getting them dirty.
The next time you’d seen the boy had been that same night in the main hall; sitting down with the rest of the Fossoways for supper.
From his accent and leather clothing, you’d assumed the boy had simply been a squire of little importance, clearly a mistake on your part, considering he was sitting with Lord Fossoway’s sister; who seemed to clearly be the boy's mother.
The entire time you had sat to eat, you continued to glance at the boy who was doing the same, glaring every time his eyes met your own.
It surely wasn’t a good start to your time at Cider Hall if you had beaten one of Lord Fossoway’s nephews with a stick.
At your place sat beside Lord Fossoway’s daughter, she noticed your glances at her cousin and laughed softly.
“Have you met Raymun then?” she asked, causing you to look over at her and grimace.
“Unfortunately.”
Another laugh left her lips as she reached for her goblet and took a sip of wine.
“Stubborn as a mule, that one. But give him time, he’ll grow on you.”
Her words only made you shake your head, furrowing your brows.
“Not likely.”
-
It had been days before you saw Raymun again, days you had spent familiarising yourself with the layout of Cider hall, attempting to memorise all the twists and turns.
It wasn’t similar to Honeyholt, at least not in the ways that mattered to you.
You were used to mornings where you could hear the flush of the Honeywine river outside of your window; here you were only ever greeted by the sound of howling winds travelling through the old stone cracks.
Small simplicities you had taken for granted were now the bane of your existence.
Back home, the well had been close by, easy to reach, and yet here, your shoes had been soaked with mud by the time you left the kitchens with hot water for your lady’s bath.
The sounds of swords clashing became louder as you rounded a corner, as well as grunts and sounds of soft cursing.
“I’m not even trying, cousin!”
Walking through the training grounds was a necessary evil when it came to your duties, it was the quickest way back to your lady’s chambers.
You kept your head down as you walked past the pair sparring, recognising the taller boy as Steffon, who you had already been warned of.
It had been relatively easy to ignore them both, all you would have to do is make it through the grounds and back inside the stone walls of the castle.
Or at least, it would have been easy to ignore them, had it not been for a harsh kick on Steffon’s part, colliding with Raymun’s chest, immediately sending the younger boy stumbling back and bumping into you.
Only able to watch as the stone carrier fell from your hands and crashed to the ground; you let out a frustrated cry as the stone shattered and water flooded across the ground.
Turning around, you watched as Steffon threw his head back and laughed, all while Raymun’s mouth hung open in shock, unable to say anything.
“Are you soft in the head?!” you snapped, hiking up your skirts and marching past Raymun and right towards Steffon.
Seemingly surprised that your anger was aimed at him and not his cousin, Steffon’s smile dropped.
“Are you going to go fetch more water from the well then?” you spoke, glaring up at the redhead.
“Calm down, it was an accident.” he brushed off, stepping past you and heading for the sword mounts.
Letting out a frustrated growl, you started back towards the direction of the well, only exchanging a brief glance with Raymun as you shoved past him.
-
It had been later in the night as everybody was gathered in the hall for supper when you had finally spoken to Raymun again.
A cider was placed in front of you on the table, and you looked up to see him standing there with an apprehensive gaze.
Rolling your eyes, you pushed the wooden cup away.
“I hate cider.” you muttered, resting your chin on your palm.
Letting out a huff, he ignored your hostility and sat across from you.
“I wanted to apologise.” he offered, only to receive an eyebrow raise from you in return.
Taking the silence as an opening for him to continue, Raymun sighed.
“No one’s stood up to Steffon that way before.. not even me..” he began.
“It wasn’t right what he did, and it wasn’t right of me to stand by and not say nothin’.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t.” you interrupted, only for Raymun to laugh softly.
“My cousin spoke to me, said I had to apologise to you, even if you were the one that hit me with the stick.”
“Except you deserved it.”
With that comment, it seemed that the tension between the two of you had subsided by the end of that night; no more glares shared across the dining hall, now replaced with lively conversation and laughter.
-
As the years continued to pass, it became clear very quickly that you and Raymun had been more similar than either of you initially thought, with a friendship quickly developing as you continued your years in Lady Fossoway’s service.
By the time you had reached the age of nine-and-ten, you and Raymun were as close as siblings.
“This is ridiculous.” you spoke from behind the embroidered changing wall.
“How am I meant to tell you what I think if I can’t see ya.” Raymun commented, snickering to himself.
Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you frowned, the gown had been sent by one of your brothers from back home, a present for your name day that had been at least a moon passed.
The bumblebee’s embroidered into the yellow silk were pretty, but oddly placed, it was clear that your brother had commissioned this dress with little effort.
Stepping out from behind the changing wall, you held your arms out and swished the fabric, pulling a face at the restrictive feeling of the garment.
Not helped by the way Raymun immediately began to crack up.
“It’s not funny!” you snapped, “i’m expected to wear this to tonight’s feast..”
It was meant to be a celebration of the recent battle that had been won by the Fossoway’s against a band of mercenaries that had been pillaging along their farmlands for the past few weeks, who had now been crushed by the house’s forces.
You had been given specific instructions to dress nicely by Lady Fossoway.
“At least you don’t have to shave..” Raymun muttered, running his fingers over the stubble that was beginning to come through.
Rolling your eyes, stepped back behind the changing wall and began to undo the strings at the back of the dress.
“Only because it’s taken you this long to start growing any facial hair.” you rebutted, earning a scoff from Raymun.
-
Entering the hall trailing behind your lady, your hair was framed with some intricate braids, small jewels hanging from them which your lady had insisted you borrow; the yellow silk trailing as you walked.
Lit up by candelabras hanging from the ceiling, the sound of music bounced off of the stone walls, accompanied by the chatter of voices.
There were mixes of deep laughter and the rumble of countless conversations, none of which you could decipher as you stood beside your lady while she greeted some of the guests from neighbouring houses.
Scanning the hall, you played with the fabric of your dress absentmindedly, taking in the banners with the sigil of the red apple that had been hung over the stone.
“You clean up nicely.” a voice from behind you sounded, making you jump slightly as you turned to see Raymun, freshly shaved and hair actually washed.
“Nice to see you actually took a bath.” you jabbed, earning an eye roll from him.
Snatching the cup of cider from his hand, you brought it to your lips and took a sip, the sweetened liquid washing down your throat.
“I thought you hated cider.” he spoke with a raised brow.
“I’ve grown to tolerate it, just as I tolerate you.”
Shaking his head, Raymun took the cider back and took another sip of his own.
There seemed to be something between the two of you tonight, a tension, not like when you were younger and couldn’t stand to be around each other, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t seem to.
With your lady’s attention being taken up by the large number of guests, you slipped into the crowd of people with Raymun at your side, grabbing a cup of your own and filling it with cider.
In all your time in service to House Fossoway, you had never seen the hall this filled; there were people everywhere you turned.
Swept up in the festivities, Raymun’s hand placed on your back was simply a welcome feeling that you leaned into without even thinking.
The night drew on as guests guzzled down more wine and cider than you thought humanly possible, and cheers and singing filled the hall; all of this while Raymun’s hand on your back became more of a grip.
He sang along with the other men as you laughed, he raised his glass and pulled you closer, the both of you feeling rather tipsy.
As the night began to come to a close, you had both ended up in the gardens; lit up by torches, you were both laughing and stumbling as you finally settled beside each other on one of the many stone benches.
“Oh seven hell’s, my head..” you laughed softly, placing a hand on your forehead only to feel how warm your skin was.
You weren’t certain what time it was, but it was early enough that the sky was beginning to turn a shade of blue that told you that it would likely only be a few more hours until the sun rose.
“We’ll be starting preparations for the journey to Ashford tomorrow..” Raymun groaned, realising that he would likely have to deal with minimal sleep and a headache for most of the next day.
“Will you be goin?” he asked, his voice suddenly seeming a deal more hopeful.
“Where my lady goes, I go.” you shrugged your shoulders.
Nodding his head, seemingly satisfied with your answer, Raymun held your gaze, the pair of you staying silent.
You truly hadn’t expected it, hadn’t been able to anticipate when he leaned forward and captured your lips on his own.
You didn’t make a sound when he kissed you, only sat still out of shock.
When Raymun pulled away, it was clear by his expression that he wasn’t certain how you were going to react, his nerves clear in his eyes as he looked at you.
Standing suddenly, you turned away, looking at the ground as you ran a finger over your lower lip.
“I’m sorry-“ he began, attempting to reach out for your hand, only to be scorned when you turned and began to walk away without a word, your strides long as to try and get away as soon as possible.
He didn’t call out for you, not that you heard at least, but you didn’t slow down, still walking back into the castle until you reached your chambers, swinging the wooden door open and letting it swing closed behind you as you stepped inside.
That was your first kiss; Raymun had leaned forward and stolen your first kiss without so much as a word.
Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you looked in the mirror, suddenly pulling desperately at the strings on your silk gown, the constricting feeling of the garment now making you want to keel over.
Conflicted feelings swam throughout your belly, unsure how to feel about what the boy who you had considered your close friend had just done.
By the time you had managed to rip the dress off of your body and climbed under the covers of your bed, you were sniffling to sleep and hiding your face under the sheet, unwilling to face the day that was soon to come.
As well as the tourney you would be travelling to in only two days.
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