Okay guys so this is my first What If based on anon request I received, plus an excuse to use my one bed trope! However, being me I could not just write a short story and instead did 3 - your welcome - these diverge off the Main Series Part One’s just before the incidents and rescue.
Lyonel - What If: Reader returned home before the scandal?
Spinster Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Baelor - What If
Maekar - What If
Warnings: Cursing, kissing, innuendo - Never proof read do feel free to point out my mistakes
He held your gaze as the dance turned you in a slow circle.
“You must be glad” you said after a moment “That tomorrow everything will be settled”
“Settled?” He says voice lower now.
“When my sister becomes your betrothed. When we return home after the wedding” You forced a polite smile. “You will have peace again. No more interfering sisters” you joke lightly.
But he does not look amused as you expect. You falter a step, quickly correcting yourself.
“Have I misspoken?” you asked quietly, unsettled by the seriousness in his face.
“Return home?” he repeated, as though testing the words.
“Yes” you said lightly “Once you are wed, my presence will hardly be required. I imagine you wont miss our arguments” you say teasing.
His hand at your waist tightened, not playful, startled ”You mean to leave Storm’s End” he said like he could not absorb the words.
“Of course” You gave a small shrug “I was never meant to remain”
He stared at you as though the notion had never occurred to him “You will return to your father’s keep” he pressed.
“Yes” you say slowly your eyebrows scrunching in confusion of how he was not getting this.
“And then?” He prompted
You blinked “And then nothing” you say confused.
The word settled between you, simple and unadorned.
You attempted a smile “I shall manage the household as I always have. There is no shortage of work for an unmarried daughter past her prime” you joke aware of your spinster title.
His expression darkened at that “You are not past-”
“It is hardly a tragedy” you interrupted gently “Not everyone is meant for grand romance” you say referring to him and your sister.
The music shifted, the dance drawing you closer again “You speak as though it is decided” he said, something rough in his tone.
“It is decided” you replied with quiet certainty “My sister is the beauty. It was always my duty to see her settled”
“And you?” he asked again, voice lower now.
“I am content” It was a well practiced lie. You delivered it smoothly, almost convincing yourself.
Lyonel, however, did not look convinced. His eyes searched your face as though trying to understand something you had already accepted.
The music came to its final note. You stepped back at once, despite the slight flex in his hands almost like he didn’t want to let go.
The feast swelled around you once more after the dance, music and laughter surging back in as though nothing had shifted at all.
Yet something had, you felt it in the heat still lingering at your waist where Lyonel’s hands had rested. In the way his words had struck somewhere too deep to examine. In the way your pulse had not yet settled.
You had barely returned to the edge of the hall when the herald called for silence.
Your father stood first, looking fearsome and proud, your sister was brought to his side, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. Yet something in her expression gave you pause, a flicker of hesitation.
Your father’s voice rang through the hall “I am pleased to announce that Lord Baratheon and I will join our houses, with the marriage of Lord Baratheon and my daughter” The hall erupted in cheers before the final syllable had landed.
Your sister laughed, though her smile tighter than you expected. You smiled too, because that was what you were meant to do. Because this was right. Because this was fitting. Because the sharp, stupid burn in your chest at the sight of Lyonel’s hand in hers, had no proper name and therefore no right to exist, your feelings were not important.
Across the hall, Lyonel did not lift his sister’s hand the way you expected. His smile remained, but he did not beam at her like a man triumphant, his gaze moved once through the crowd.
You ducked behind a pillar, even if your mind scolded you for being so delusional to think he was looking for you.
You spent the rest of the feast making yourself useful, because usefulness had always been the cure for foolish feeling.
You directed servants, settled your sister when she grew overexcited. So when your father sent for you later that evening, you went at once, expecting some practical matter.
He stood in the solar with a letter in his hand, eyebrows scrunched in concentration.
“You sent for me, Father?” You ask simply, hands folded behind your back.
“I have received word from home” he said evenly “There is an issue with the west granary accounts and a dispute among the lower household servants, that has grown far out of proportion. It seems that the steward was ill equipped to even perform a simple task whilst we were away” he spoke voice getting angrier
You stood very still “I see” your eyes not leaving him as he decided his next action.
“You will return tomorrow” he ordered
The words struck harder than they should have “Tomorrow?” you repeated, before you could stop yourself “But the wedding”
“Will proceed as planned” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for sentiment.
Your jaw tightened “I had thought to remain” you said carefully despite your rising anger “until my sister was settled”
“She will be settled” he replied, clearly not believing you where necessary here “And you are needed elsewhere”
Needed, the word sticking in your throat. Of course, the only word he ever truly afforded to you. His needed dutiful daughter.
You drew in a careful breath “She is my sister, a girl I raised from birth, it was my duty to see her married”
“Your duty is to your house” he reminded sharply, his expression hardening into something like impatience “And now you will do what you have always done. You will be useful where you are required”
Silence pressed in around you.
You had imagined many things in your life. A wedding of your own once, long ago, before you learned better. Then later you had imagined your sister’s wedding, all the little details she would forget, all the things you would quietly put right and watch her walk down the aisle.
It had never occurred to you that you would not even see her wed.
Your father misread your silence as obedience “Good” he said clapping his hands together “Your carriage will be ready at first light” dismissing you with the same ease one dismissed a servant.
“Yes Father” you say tightly, your hand in a fist behind your back. You never did say no to him.
You made it down the corridor and into your chambers before you let out a scream of frustration. You pressed your forehead against the cold wood of the door and forced yourself to breathe.
Tomorrow. You would leave before the wedding, before your sister married. Before Lyonel married her.
The last thought was the one you shoved away first.
———————————————————
You said nothing to anyone that night, not your sister and certainly not Lyonel.
You packed up yourself, there was little enough to gather, only one trunk of clothing there was no point bothering the handmaid. She would be staying with your sister anyway.
Once packed, you went to bed early, but sleep did not come easily. Finally drifting off to the sound of rain.
Not a soft misting, but a proper Stormlands rain. Hard and slanting, bashing against the stone and windows. It was a soothing sound. You realized suddenly you would miss it.
The next morning, you woke before the rest of the house, dressing in your simple blue dress and cloak.
Your father had arranged for the household carriage and its driver to accompany you. The man was skilled with a sword, so your father saw no need to send further guards.
The trunks were loaded, the horses were harnessed in the early morning darkness. Part of you felt like a thief in the night parting without a word, part of you felt it was better this way. You were not sure for whom.
Your sister found you in the courtyard moments before departure, still in her nightdress beneath a hastily thrown cloak “What is this?” she demanded, sleep and panic mingling in her voice.
You forced a small smile “Father has had word from home. I am needed”
Her face fell “Today?”
You nodded, reaching up and fixing the tie of her cloak, because your hands needed something to do.
Her lower lip trembled in a way that made her look suddenly much younger “But the wedding”
“Will still be beautiful and happy without me” You assured with forced cheer, despite the words sitting heavy in your chest “You will be beautiful and if you cry before the septon reaches the vows, I shall hear of it and never forgive you” you teased.
She let out a watery laugh and hugged you, sudden and fierce. You held her just as tightly. You stayed like that for a moment, holding eachother in the dim morning light.
When she pulled back, her eyes were red, that odd look coming to her face, the same one as the night before “Have you told Lord Baratheon”
You tried not to still and forced lightness into your voice “I am sure he will not care if the spinster sister of his bride departs before the vows”
She studied you carefully then took a breath like she was about to reveal something long carried “I think he-“ However you father appeared before she could say any further.
“It is time. You best make headway before this storm hits” he stated.
You nodded, hugging your sister tightly once more. The unsaid words hanging in the air.
You climbed into the carriage without once looking toward the keep, unable to watch as Storms End faded into the distance.
—————————————————
The storm worsened by the hour
Wind howled, pulling at tree branches, rain hammered the roof in relentless sheets, and the sky had gone from iron grey to something darker, heavier, meaner. Your mood seemed to match.
Your mind went over your last conversations, how you should have fought your father, your sisters unsaid words, the uncertainly on her face at the marriage and how you should have said goodbye to Lyonel.
That last through twisted your gut above the others. You where not a weak woman, your were skilled, capable and practical.
So why did you stall outside his door that morning, your hand raised but never knocking.
The memory of his eyes and his hands at your waist burned through you. It was foolish to think that way, he did not want you, he simply enjoyed the game.
So why did you run from him?
You were still asking yourself that question when the carriage lurched violently.
You caught yourself against the wall with a gasp as the horses screamed outside, harnesses jangling wildly. The whole carriage lurched at an angle and stopped so suddenly your heart leapt into your throat.
“What in seven hells” you started, but before you could finish, the door was flew open.
Rain poured in at once and there, drenched to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving from the ride, stood Lyonel Baratheon.
For one stunned heartbeat you simply stared at him. Then you found your voice “Have you gone mad!”
He was already turning from the carriage, shouting something over his shoulder to the driver about the road ahead.
Only then did you see what had happened, his horse stood directly in front of yours, forcing the sudden halt. The carriage team danced in panic, whites of their eyes showing as the storm lashed them
Lyonel turned back toward you, rain running down his face “You left” the accusation was simple, blunt, and far angrier than you expected.
You stared at him in disbelief “That is your defense!” you demand, climbing down from the carriage into the storm before anyone could stop you. Your boots sank into the mud immediately “You stop my carriage in a storm, nearly kill yourself and your explanation is that I left!!!”
“Yes!” he bellowed back over the rain “You left without saying a damned word to me!”
“I was not aware I required your permission!” You shot back, marching toward him.
“That’s not what I said!” He replied coping your movement.
“It is very much the point!” You challenge uncaring about the sudden proximity, your chest nearly brushing his.
The driver, poor man, was trying desperately to soothe the horses while also examining the back wheel, now lodged nearly to the axle in the mud.
“My lady” he tried weakly.
Neither of you heard him, too busy staring each other down.
“You were going to vanish!” He accused.
“I was going home!” You shout back.
“You were going without telling me!” He let out, sounding almost hurt.
“What should I have said?” you shouted, rain streaming down your face “Farewell, my lord, enjoy marrying my sister while I return to balancing grain stores and servant squabbles?”
His face changed at that, not softening, if anything, it grew wilder “Yes! he snapped “You should have said farewell. So I could stop you and tell you where being a damned fool!”
The words hit harder than they should have. Your breath caught, but your anger held “You have no right, to tell me what a should and should not do!”
“Like hell I don’t!” He returns his eyes pinning you to the spot.
The driver cleared his throat louder this time “My lord”
“Not now!” Lyonel barked without looking away from you. The driver wilted.
You stepped closer to Lyonel, close enough now that rain rolled from the end of his nose and onto your bodice “You cannot simply chase after women through storms because you dislike their departure” ignoring that warmth building in your chest, that same warmth from the feast.
His eyes flashed “I can if the woman is you”
The rain seemed to vanish for one stupid, impossible second as you stared at each other.
Then the carriage gave another awful lurch behind you. All at once reality returned.
“My lord!” the man finally shouted, voice cracking with desperation “The wheel is stuck fast!”
You both turned.
The back wheel had sunk deep into the mud, half swallowed by the road. One of the horses was trembling so violently the driver keeping them from bolting altogether.
The road behind leading back to Storms End, had half collapsed where the rain-swollen river had burst its banks. What had once been passable ground was now little more than a churned slope of mud and racing black water.
Lyonel dragged a hand over his face “Seven fucking hells”
You folded your arms, rainwater dripping from your sleeves “Well done!” you said acidly “You have stranded us”
For one reckless second he looked as though he might laugh. That only made you angrier.
The driver straightened with visible dread “My lord, there is an inn up the road. Not far, walkable in this terrain. If the horses are taken to the stables there and the wheel seen to once the rain eases, the carriage may be freed by morning”
Lyonel looked toward the road, then back at the sinking wheel.
You looked too. The inn stood dimly visible through the curtain of rain, a squat shape of yellow lamp light at the crest of the rise.
You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.
Lyonel exhaled sharply “Fine”
The driver looked relieved enough to weep “I’ll take the horses to the stables, my lord, if you and my lady go ahead”
Lyonel nodded once and started walking.
You, however, did not move “You cannot possibly think I am walking there with you as though this is a perfectly ordinary evening!”
He looked at you, drenched and furious and somehow still infuriatingly handsome “My lady” he said, voice dropping into that awful teasing warmth that usually made you want to hit him “we are already soaked through, stranded in a storm. I fear ordinary has left us behind”
You glared at him “And whose fault is that!”
He said nothing and held out his hand.
You stared at it and then at him. Then, because the rain was freezing and the horses were trembling and the road was now more river than road, you slapped your hand into his with bad grace.
“Say one smug thing” you warned “and I will push you into the mud”
His mouth curved “You have threatened me with worse.”
“I mean it” you replied, ignoring the heat of his hand in yours.
His hand tightened around yours as he started up the road beside you, dragging you into the rain “I mean to keep you where I can see you”
“Lyonel!” you say not thinking.
But he only kept walking and because your hand was trapped in his, and because the warmth of his grip refused to disappear despite the storm, you had no choice but to follow him toward the inn with your temper unraveling step by step.
Behind you, the driver muttered a desperate prayer and led the miserable horses toward the stables.
———————————————-
By the time you reached the inn, you were both dripping onto the floorboards.
The innkeeper took one look at the pair of you and wisely asked no questions at all. He merely bowed nervously and apologised that the storm had driven every traveler for miles under his roof and informed you there was only one room left.
You laughed in disbelief. Lyonel looked delighted.
You rounded on him at once “If you grin at me one more time, I shall smother you”
He seemed to smile even wider.
The innkeeper went very still. Then, with the instinct of a man who valued his continued survival, he handed over the room key without another word.
——————————————-
The inn room was small, painfully small.
A narrow bed pressed against one wall, a little hearth with fire, a washstand and a single chair that had clearly dated back to the time of the conqueror.
You stopped just inside the doorway, dripping onto the floorboards. Behind you Lyonel shut the door firmly.
The room immediately felt even smaller.
You turned on him at once “This” you started, gesturing to the soaked state of both of you “is entirely your fault!”
He leaned back against the door, rainwater still running down his jaw, looking entirely too relaxed “My fault?” he repeated mildly.
“Yes!” you snapped.
“You were the one leaving storms end” he accused his eyes not leaving you.
You stared at him in outrage “I was returning home!” You began, fully prepared to continue the argument when the cold finally seeped through your dress. You shivered violently.
Lyonel’s expression shifted at once “You need to change”
You blinked “I beg your pardon?”
“Your clothes” he said, already stripping off his soaked coat and tossing it over the back of the chair “You’re freezing, you will catch your death”
You stared at him like he had lost his mind “And into what exactly do you suggest I change?”
He paused, seeming to remember your trunk was still on the carriage. Then slowly ran a hand through his wet hair “Ah ”
“Yes” you said sharply “Ah”
There was a small trunk at the foot of the bed containing spare blankets and linens.
He pulled one free and held it out to you. You stared at it for a moment, wanting to refuse but the cold drips of water down your spine made you think twice.
You snatch it out of his hand, throwing your own cloak on top of his. You began untying your dress laces and immediately noticed he was still watching you, amused but something else in his eye “Turn around” you demand.
His brow lifted in amusement “You distrust me that much?”
“Yes” you challenge, not wanting to acknowledge the spike in your heart rate.
“Fair” he smiled, then he turned around, with one last quick look.
You changed as quickly as possible, peeling the soaked dress away till you where only in your shift. You wrap yourself tightly in the rough wool blanket, pulling it over your shoulders “Done” you say.
He turned back, his eyes casting over you looking darker somehow. Your eyes dropped from his intense gaze, but your breath caught, your eyes fixing on how his shirt clung to his chest, soaked through, hair still dripping down his neck. He caught you looking “Your turn to turn around” he said with a smile.
You did not move at first, then flushed clearing your throat and spinning at once.
You heard the rustle of fabric as he stripped his damp shirt and boots. A moment later the bed creaked as he sat “You can turn back now”
You turned back and froze. Because Lyonel Baratheon was sprawled comfortably across the entire bed. Shirtless.
Your face flushed instantly and your eyes flew to the ceiling. He laughed.
“Move” you snapped trying to cover up your embarrassment as he pulsed the blanket loosely over himself.
“Where?” He challenged with a smile.
You lowered your gaze slowly, fixing him with a glare that could have set the mattress alight “You are occupying the entire bed and you will move”
He stretched lazily across the mattress as though he had every right to it, eyes never leaving you.
“You chased me halfway across the Stormlands, stranded my carriage, and now you are stealing the only bed in this miserable inn” you argue.
“That seems an unfair summary of events” he starts mildly, looking far too amused “Where exactly did you expect me to sleep?”
“The chair” you state with a grin.
He glanced at the chair. Then back at you and laughed “You are serious”
“Yes” you say getting angry again
He leaned back on his elbows, still not getting up “You are very determined to fight me about every single thing”
You marched forward and shoved his shoulder “Move”
He grinned but did not move “You are remarkably strong” he rolled slightly to one side, though his grin only widened “There, no don’t accuse me of not sharing” a challenge in his tone.
Unfortunately you could not help but take the bait. You stared down the empty space next to him “That is barely a quarter”
“You are very difficult to please” he replied, despite sounding very pleased.
“I am very cold” you complain
At that his amusement faded a fraction. He pushed himself up onto one elbow “You are still shaking”
You hated that he noticed “Well whose fault is that?” you snapped.
He did not answer right away, You opened your mouth to continue the argument, then stopped seeing the almost guilty look on his face.
You studied him suspiciously for a moment longer before climbing stiffly onto the far edge of the mattress, keeping as much distance between you as physically possible.
You wrapped the blanket around yourself like armor.
He lay back on the other side, hands folded behind his head. For a moment neither of you spoke.
Then another shiver ran through you.
He noticed immediately “Gods” he muttered.
Before you could react he reached over, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it away from your shoulders.
“Lyonel!” you snapped, trying to pull it back.
He ignored you completely. In one smooth motion he pulled you closer, pulling the blanket off so you were just in your shift, turning slightly so your back was pressed against his chest. The blanket was then dragged over both of you.
You stiffened in outrage “What are you doing!”
“Stop fighting” he said calmly, settling the blanket around you both.
“This is highly inappropriate!” You say trying to wiggle away.
“You’re freezing” he smiled behind your back.
“I was perfectly fine!” You say feet kicking him
“You were shaking like a leaf” he argues, arms settling around your waist to hold you still.
You tried to shove his arm away “Lyonel”
“This is an old hunting trick” he said after a moment. “Share body heat under the blanket. Works better than freezing to death”
You glared at the wall, settling down your movements “I was not freezing to death” you mumble, despite enjoying the warmth seeping into you.
“You were on your way” he mumbles, seeming too close to your hair.
You hated that he was right. Gradually the shaking in your limbs began to ease. The warmth of him seeped through the blanket and into your bones.
For a while neither of you spoke. Only the sound of the storm and the crackle of the fire filled the room.
Then, quietly, he said behind you “You left me”
You stared at the wall “I was simply going home”
“You didn’t say goodbye” that hurt coming into this voice again.
Your jaw tightened “You were celebrating your betrothal, I did not wish to ruin that”
“I was looking for you” he whispered
You went still “That seems unlikely”
“It’s not” his voice lower, his arm tightening slightly.
You hesitated, for once you where glad you could see his face “Why?”
His chest rose slowly behind you “Because when you told me you were leaving Storm’s End” he said quietly “you said it like it didn’t matter”
You frowned slightly “It doesn’t”
“It does to me” he says sounding far too honest.
You suck in a breath but do not answer.
After a moment he continued “You weren’t just leaving the castle” His arm shifted again tightening just a fraction, like he was making sure you could not escape “You were leaving me”
The words settled into the quiet room. You swallowed “That is ridiculous”
His lips brushed faintly against your hair “Is it?”
You did not reply.
But you did not move away either.
——————————————————
Morning arrived quietly.
The storm had burned itself out sometime in the night, leaving only pale grey light filtering through the shutters. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and wood smoke.
You woke slowly, feeling a lovely warmth. For a moment you simply lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the rare comfort, your body felt heavy and relaxed. It was, you realized vaguely, the best sleep you had had in years.
You shifted slightly. Something tightened around your waist.
Your brow furrowed, not yet able to grasp what the unfamiliar weight was.
Slowly, cautiously, you opened your eyes blinking at the unfamiliar room. For a moment you did not understand what you were seeing.
Then you pulled the blanket down slightly and saw the broad arm draped around your waist
You turned your head slowly. Lyonel Baratheon slept behind you, his chest warm against your back, his arm loosely wrapped around you.
He was shirtless. You were very aware that you were wearing nothing but a thin shift beneath the blanket.
For a brief, dangerous second your traitorous mind wondered if perhaps the entire night had been some strange dream. Then the memory returned all at once “Oh gods” you say slapping a hand over your face.
Lyonel stirred immediately with a low groan, blinking awake as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, his arm falling away from you “What” he starts confused by the loss of your warmth.
You were already scrambling away from him, clutching the blanket around yourself like armor “This is a disaster!”
He squinted at you through sleep heavy eyes “Good morning”
“A disaster!” you repeated, pacing the small room in growing horror.
He rubbed a hand over his face, still waking “Why?”
“Why!” You spun on him, aghast “Because I have spent the night in an inn room with my sister’s betrothed!” You gestured wildly between the two of you “You are half dressed, I am half dressed, and we have spent the entire night in the same bed!”
He sat up fully now, watching you pace the length of the room.
“If anyone discovers this” you start to ramble, as he yawns completely unconcerned, eyes following you.
“Come back to bed before you freeze” he said with a lazy grin, clearly missing the warmth of you.
You spin on your heel, your eyes pinning him “You do realise” you say dangerously “that if anyone discovers this, the only possible solution is marriage”
You expected him to laugh. To get angry. To recoil at the thought of being forced to marry the spinster sister. Yes, you had expected all of those things from a lord you were still convinced did not want you.
Instead he simply shrugged “Fine”
You blinked, he said it like you had just suggested breakfast. “Fine? Fine! That is not an acceptable response!”
“Yes it is” he replied, stifling another yawn.
“You are betrothed to my sister!” You yelled “And you think marrying me instead of her is FINE!”
“Yes” he said easily, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes raked over you.
You stared at him in disbelief “You are enjoying this”
“A little” he smiled
You groaned and pressed your hands over your face “My sister will be devastated”
“She won’t” he replied simply
“What does that mean?” You asked confused.
He smiled like he knew something you didn’t. He leaned back slightly on the bed, looking entirely untroubled “It seems like a very simple solution to me” yhe replies not answering your question.
“I have ruined everything!” you mutter, dropping your head back into your hands.
“I was the one stopped you leaving” he replies gently getting up and taking your hands away from your face so you will look at him
“It is not the same” you mutter, eyes locking with his.
“It is to me” he says with a small smile, thumbs tracing back and forth on your wrists.
You stared at him, completely exasperated And realized, with mounting horror.
He had never looked calmer in his life.
You stared at him, completely exasperated.
“Lyonel” you said slowly, dangerously “this is not amusing”
“I’m not amused” he replied easily.
“You are speaking of marriage as though it were a tavern wager!” You argued
His grin softened slightly “No” he said. “I’m speaking of it as though it were inevitable”
You blinked at him.
“I chased you through a storm” he continued mildly. “Stranded your carriage. Ruined my boots. Slept in an inn with you half the night” His hands slid gently around your waist again before you could retreat. “I think at this point it would be rather foolish not to marry you”
Your breath caught
“I should have said it last night” he interrupted, voice roughening slightly “But you were shaking and I was busy keeping you warm”
Your cheeks burned “You cannot possibly mean”
“I mean exactly what I said” His thumbs brushed slowly along your waist “I am not letting you go back to that keep to manage grain stores and servant quarrels like none of this mattered”
Your heart hammered painfully.
“You were leaving” he said quietly “And I discovered I had no intention of letting you”
You swallowed “You cannot simply decide such things”
“Watch me” He smiled
And before you could summon another argument, he pulled you forward and kissed you. A reckless, breath-stealing kiss that felt exactly like the storm he had ridden through to reach you.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting briefly against yours, his voice was warm with satisfaction.
“Well” he said with a laugh “You did say the only solution was marriage”
