Oh Hey! I was wondering if you were up for some Lyonel Baratheon angst...
Something with a targ reader after the trial of the seven... maybe they are married... maybe they just got engaged or sm, and she discovers he hates targs?
Love you, love your blog!
Damn straight I'm up for it
I have this gathering dust and you helped me completed it muahaha
The only good dragon is a dead dragon.
Summary: you believed you had married the eprfect man, until you hear something you shouldn't
Warnings: cursing, battles, trial of the seven, talks of treason, idealization of death, death threats, talks about death in childbirth, pregnancy symptoms, might miss some warnings. No proof read, sorry not sorry.
MINORS DNI, +18
Wordcount: 4k
Since the first time you bled you were scared of marriage.
You could bear children now, which meant your father Maekar could marry you to whomever he pleased, to the best suitor. But you were a princess of the realm, you knew that titles and money told little about kindness and good character
You had seen loyal knights turn into beasts when they thought nobody was watching, or old sweet men from the most honorable of houses commit adultery with unwilling maids of the castles you frequented or the high court of King’s Landing.
But when Lyonel of the great House Baratheon appeared in your grandfather's court to ask for your hand in marriage, you felt your own principles waver.
He was tall, broad and handsome and heir to Storms End, meaning he was to become Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. You remembered the look on your grandfather’s -the king- face, looking silently for your opinion in the throne room. You were not yet convinced, so a week-long courtship ensued, at the Red Keep, under the watchful eyes of Daeron the Good, Baelor, and your father Maekar.
He passed every test put in front of him, he trained and defeated your uncle in the courtyard, he withstand the long dinners and the over the table dense conversations, he had the seal of approval of The King and a the Hand within three days, by the fourth, he made your own father laugh, truly laugh. You weren’t present at such a feat, it was long past the hours of propriety, but you had heard of it from three different men, even from your cousin Valarr who seems particularly impressed.
And to you, he was just the most dashing knight. He would walk with you in the gardens under your father’s watch, he would give you gifts on his house’s colours, beautiful necklaces and silks to fashion dresses… in yellow and black…
He would tell you stories and legends about House Baratheon and the Storm Kings, about his home in Storm's End, but most importantly, he would listen to you, about what you thought, about your life, about your home.
He was perfect
By week's end you had accepted his proposal.
By the fortnight's end, you had married him. The wedding was of a grand splendure, most of the great houses were there, the ceremony was celebrated by even the smallfolk chanting their adoration in the streets, the feast was spectacular, the party afterwards was the most fun, you danced with your husband all night, until your feet hurt.
You felt like the happiest princess alive.
It was like a dream came true.
And at night, when the guests to the wedding had taken you to the chambers as they undressed you, you didn’t even feel nervous, you felt excited and giddy. And when you finally were alone with him, both stark naked, and in front of each other, mind and body idled with the soft buzz of the Arbour wine you served at the banquet, he held you in his arms, he kissed you gently and lovingly, he indeed you slowly, doing his best not to harm you and he succeeded.
And as you cuddled with him in your bed, you thought you were a lucky woman.
You travelled to Storm’s End with your husband, the journey took a whole fortnight, in which you slept together in a huge pavilion they set up every morning, or sometimes, when you managed to arrive in some towns, you would sleep in the great halls along the way.
You believed it was in the Bronzegate where he -between hard thrusts- told you he loved you for the first time
When he arrived at Storm’s End, the party continued, according to his words, he wanted all of Storm’s End to meet their new lady, so he threw a massive event and invited all his bannermen and the house of the nearby villages.
Even though you both had separate quarters he insisted for you to stay with him every night. He would consummate the marriage every night without fail, he would hold you all night afterwards, he would care for your every need before you even voice it.
And then, the invitation to the Ashford tourney arrived, alongside the knowledge your whole family was attending the event. Lyonel couldn’t be more excited, like a child on his nameday. And he passed it onto you.
But everything changed when you arrived at Ashford Meadow.
It was your first tourney as a married couple, and you saw a side of Lyonel that excited and intimidated you in equal measure.
The man was in his element, all smiles and big gestures. You finally discovered why they called him the laughing storm, he raised the longest pavilion there, he invited everyone around for a big feast the first night.
You proudly sat by his side as he wore that huge antler crown and you both drank until you felt like you could giggle the night away.
You had to admit you sometimes felt a bit embarrassed by his antics, but tonight you were as drunk as him, but even you could remember Ser Duncan the Tall.
The very next morning, you saw your brother jousting, you saw how he passed your husband’s tent, looking at the man with a grin on his face. you knew he could challenge your husband just to humiliate him, but you also knew he knew your husband would beat him, so he rode past him.
Instead challenge a lesser knight, and permanently damage him after killing your horse.
You knew your brother’s monstrous nature, that is why you weren’t truly surprised by the events that happened that night with the puppeteers.
But what you were truly surprised, was the trial of seven
You couldn’t blame your husband for coming in rescue of the hedge night, Aegon, your baby brother had spoken to you and explained the situation, how he liked this man Ser Duncan, how he believed in him. And you knew Aerion, and how he was…
You knew your father’s prowess, he was not going to fall easily, neither was your husband, you still didn’t know how he convinced you it was a good idea, how everything was going to be alright.
It was the worst day of your life, but you knew your husband was not going to kill your father, you knew your husband was not going to die either, you had too. Besides, your uncle was fighting alongside him.
With tears in your eyes, because of your uncle’s Death, you helped the maester clean up your husband, you cleaned his wounds, and kissed his bruises, with his firm hands he grabbed your trembling ones and consoled you for the loss of the heir of the Iron Throne.
You woke up with your stomach twisted in nausea. You were barely able to reach some sort of pot and threw up in it.
Perhaps it was the jitters from the night before, you turned to meet your husband, but he wasn’t there. You recalled that the night before he spoke of going to see Ser Duncan, see how he was fearing, so you paid little mind to it.
Eleonora, your lady in waiting, came inside to help you dress for the day.
You found yourself with mixed feelings, for you were relieved that your father was alright, as your husband… but… your uncle Baelor had lost his life, in the hands of his own brother.
You still weren’t able to quantify what this would mean, not only for your family, but for the entire realm.
“Oh!”, you moaned, as she tightened the corset, your breasts were tender, it was an odd sensation
“I’m sorry my lady”, she offered softly, removing the guilty piece of clothing
“My breast hurt”, you whispered
“Maybe you are with child”, she said carefully, eying the pot where you threw up in. But you dismissed it, it was probably nothing.
Once you were ready, you exited the tent, willing to go get something to eat, despite the theatrics of your poor stomach, you were famished.
That is until a figure caught your attention.
You saw Lyonel’s maester return from the riverbank, angry, whispering angry insults and walking by you like he was about to push you out of his way. It was very odd, to say the least. Perhaps he couldn’t help the hedge knight, but perhaps the royal maester who had come with your family to Ashford could.
So you came to find him, and took him with you to meet Lyonel and Ser Duncan where his camp was.
It was a beautiful day
You knew you were in the right direction because you heard your husband’s boisterous voice from afar, you smiled at the thought of seeing him, he looked so handsome this morning.
There he was… with his cape, you really hoped the limp would go away someday soon, you knew he enjoyed jousting a bit too much, and not being able to practice it would dwell terribly on him.
When you were able to see him more clearly, you frowned as he turned to speak to the Hedge Knight who was laying against a tree.
“You've done the realm a kindness. You'll see that one day. The only good dragon is a dead dragon”, he saw you, but too late, he saw you on the edge of his eye, he turned and looked at you.
You just stood there, frozen.
The Hedge knight laid there looking at the both of you like he was about to witness a murder
“What?”, you asked him.
The only good dragon is a dead dragon
There was no way to misinterpret it.
He meant your uncle, he was referring to your family
The maester, old man as he was, clearly either didn’t care or hadn't listened and went straight towards Ser Duncan, but you just stood there, you just heard your husband talking treason.
“Wife…”, he said carefully, once he realized there was no mistake what he had said
He took a step towards you, grabbing onto his antlered cane, but you swore, in the second he took to make that movement, it looked like a weapon.
You gasp, taking a step back from him, even though there was at least 10 feet in between you.
You gathered the courage to look at his face, finally, and you didn’t like what you saw in it.
You turned and ran away from him, tears forming in your eyes, clouding your vision, you heard him behind you, cursing.
You didn’t know what to do
You married this man
The only good dragon is a dead dragon
Is that why he joined the trial? He hoped to kill one of your family members?
Your uncle Baelor, the most honorable and joust member of your family, one would argue that the best of you, was dead, and Lyonel was relieved about it.
You arrived at the tent under the look of everyone you crossed in your way, as you were now fully crying. But who could blame you? your uncle was dead, his funeral pyre was this afternoon…
You didn’t know what to do, the only thing you did know is that you couldn’t be around Lyonel anymore, he wished your family dead, he collaborated in the deed… disguising it as chivalry and justice… as the defense of the innocent.
You grabbed everything that belonged to you, everything you could and threw it inside one of your trunks, your cape, your dresses, your riding boots, all of it. Every time someone walked past the entrance to the tent you stopped and watched, but Lyonel didn't come.
When you made sure all your things were stored, you sat on the bed, defeated, like you just jousted yourself. You took a long, shaky breath, feeling your chest constricted, your hands instinctively went to your breasts, and you wined in pain, they had never hurt before, that you were sure off. Then, as he had planned it, Lyonel himself entered the tent.
But you were so tired, as life itself had been drained out of you, that you didn’t fight it, not one bit.
“What I don’t understand is…”, you began, “if you think we are better off dead, why did you marry me?”, you asked him, voice cracked. “Why did you come to King’s Landing to ask for my hand in marriage?”
But he didn’t answer
“Why?”, you asked him again, tears streaming down your face, “Uncle Baelor was the best of us, he was going to be a great King and yet… you wish him dead”
“He was a fraud!”, he said loudly, exasperated, “he fought against men swore to protect him!”
“In defense of that man!”, you said, “to try and protect him from my brother…”
“You see? don’t you?”, he asked, “you hate your brother! he is sadistic and cruel…”
“He does not represent my entire family!”, you fought back, “not my father… of Daeron, or Baelor, or my cousin Valarr…”, you then stopped and looked at him, “or me”
“You are not a dragon anymore are you?”, he asked, as this whole thing was overreacted, “you are a doe now, a Baratheon”, he was not answering your question, he was evading.
“Who is going to give you children with dragon blood…”, you interrupted yourself as you looked back at him wide-eyed. He just looked at you and he saw it, in your eyes
“If I wanted your family dead I could have done it, you know?”, he asked, “at least two of them”
“I remember my father’s maze on your face at least twice, not your sword on him”, you defended, he laughed, you stood up from the bed, but not wanting to escalate this further. Only then he noticed the trunks
“Your things…”, he tried, “what is happening?”, he asked carefully
“I do not wish to return to Storm’s End with you”, you said, voice cracking, not at all convincing. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but when he realized you weren’t kidding, he got really serious
“You don’t think I could… do something to you”, he didn’t dare ask the question, and your silence told him everything, “for the gods”, he whispered, not believing it, “you are my wife!”, he said, exasperated
“Yes and you just said that the only good Targaryens are dead Targaryens”, you whispered, he shook his head
“You are twisting my words”, he said firmly
“It’s exactly that”, you said sadly, he took a step towards you and before you could run, he grabbed you, ever so gently, his big hand cradled your cheek
“I would never harm you, you hear me?”, he asked severely, “you are my wife, and I will never touch you with anything but devotion and care”, he whispered, he leaned in, to kiss you, but you pulled away
“I have a funeral to attend”, you whispered.
He did not make any indication to follow you to attend the funeral, so you just went without him. Valarr was unconsolable, and you couldn’t even think about your father and what he must be feeling… he was the one to give Baelor the blow that ended his life after all.
His own brother
He might be called Kinslayer, or certainly, whispers will deem him as such.
After the pyre was extinguished, you followed your father and Aegon back to Ashford castle. You knew Lyonel intended to part Ashford right after the funeral, and the mere thought brought tears to your eyes, of being alone with her, of parting ways from your family.
You sought an audience with your father, which was granted immediately, right before Ser Duncan. He clearly thought you wanted to say goodbye.
“Papa, can I go back with you to Summerhall?”, you asked him, so quietly you doubted he could even hear you, but he did
“Why?”, he asked, frowning at you, “you are supposed to go to Storm’s End, with your husband”
“Yes… but…”, how do you tell your father your husband talked about treachery?, “with everything that has happened… I wish to be with my family”, you tried to explain, to lie, but his face, his unmovable face told you everything that you needed to know.
“You are to go with your family, your husband, to Storm’s End”, he said, and you just stood there.
“Well, Aerion is gone, and after what happened with Uncle Baelor… I do not wish to leave you father”, you should have stopped, but at the sole mention of his deceased brother, his face turned
“What happened with your husband?”, he asked severely, you shook your head softly, “you are married now…”
“I know”, you said softly
“You made a vow…”, he said, “does that mean little to you?”, he asked, angry, he was twisting the whole thing.
“No! I didn’t mean it like that…”, you tried to explain
“I don’t know how my own offspring would come out so disloyal”, he might as well slap you, it would have hurt less, “so unreliable”, he continued, “unworthy”
“Papa”, you called, like begging for mercy
“You could only hope your husband doesn’t know about your plans”, he snapped, “now go back to him”, he commanded, you just nodded solemnly at him.
“Yes father, I’m sorry”, you whispered brokenly. You wish to hug him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to beg him not to let you go.
But you couldn’t
So you walked away from him, not really knowing if or when you were going to see him again.
Lyonel’s words returned to you as well
The only good dragon is a dead dragon
Why would he say something like that? King Daeron the good was one of the greatest Kings of your dynasty, everyone said so… Prince Baelor is… was… even a greater choice for the throne, in his hands, your family would have been at his highest…
If he really thought that… then you wondered what his plans for you were… you wondered again why he married you in the first place.
When you returned, the great pavilion was being put away, Ashford itself seemed to be losing their clothes, you were not the only ones leaving. Your tent, though, still stood whole, the one you shared with Lyonel.
Only then you realized you had not bled since a fortnight before you married Lyonel, and its been three moons since that.
You were with child
Most likely
Lyonel followed the servants who brought your things from the tent to the carriages, and as soon as he spotted you he stood there, looking at you, waiting for your next move.
You certainly couldn’t go back to Summerhall, you had to return to Storm’s End with him, your father was right, he was your husband. You had made a vow, you were his and he was yours, from this day to the end of your days.
You took a long shaky breath
He didn’t wish for you to ride your own horse, you were to ride a carriage, so without a word, you climbed onto it.
Being locked inside a box for most of the day actually gave you time to think, and at night, when you stopped to sleep in a quick made up camp, you could not evade your husband much longer.
You shared a bed on the tent, there was no more room, you climbed onto the bed while he had not returned yet, you hid under the cover the furthest you could from his side of the bed. You heard him come in and sigh loudly
“Wife”, he didn't even use your name, you guessed he didn’t like it. You closed your eyes even though he couldn't see your face, and hugged the pillow tightly. “I would never hurt you”, he whispered, the bed dipped under him, he moved until you felt his warm body behind yours. you tensed, coiling like a snake, he still surrounded your body with his arm, you still felt his breath on the side of your face. He kissed your cheek, he pulled you towards him.
“Lyonel”, you called
“I’m sorry about what I said”, he whispered, “you are mine now”, he kissed once more, and again, “I might not like your family, but I would never do anything to hurt them”, he continued
What choice did you have but to believe him and trust him?
His hand sneaked under the covers and cupped one of your breasts, you whined in displeasure.
“What?”, he whispered
“They hurt”, you whispered
“Oh?”, he teased, “maybe my beautiful doe is carrying a fawn?”, his hand travelled to your belly and kept it there, its warmth making you tremble.
“I’ll probably die in childbirth”, you said bitterly, “You’d like that”, you cried
“For the gods”, he released you like you burnt him, and sat on the bed away from you, “what do I have to do to prove to you… I fucking love you!”, he said, exasperated
He never said it out of bed, so hearing it like this was certainly surprising
“I cannot turn back time, and we are married for life… so we really should find a way to get past this”, he said with greeted teeth
“I cannot let go of the fact that you believe my family, the reigning family is better off dead”, you said wiping your tears
“Yes, I don’t like them, you know that half of Targaryen Kings were mad as fucking goats, the last one almost destroyed the country in half by provoking a succession crisis and a civil war!”, he said, “madness brought forth by the fact that your family married brothers and sisters for generations!”, he said angrily
“Then why the fuck did you married me?”, you asked him
“Your grandmother was a Dornish princess, your mother a Dayne, you are not insane”
“How do you know?”, you asked him, he smiled at you.
“The men might be lunatics, but certainly, the best things about the Targaryens are their women”, he said with a husky voice, “when I looked at you I knew it was over for me, you are the most beautiful woman in the Kingdoms”, you let out a sigh
He went for a kiss, even at a moment like this… he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.
“You are going to fucking die one day, but after me…”, he teased
“Lyonel”, you whined, trying to get away from his grabby hands, but no such luck
“I’m going to die with eighty name days over me”, he whispered huskily, “after a long night of fucking my gorgeous dragon wife, my heart will finally gave out”
“Lyonel this isn’t funny”
“Then I’ll come back for you, ten years later, I’m going to be bored as hell so I’ll come back for you…”, he has surrounded you with his arms caressing your body, his mouth was searching for yours to kiss your lips, you wouldn’t let him so he’ll leave wet kisses all over your face.
“I hate you!”, you cried
“I fucking love you”, he grunted against your ear, “I fucking love the fact that I get to have you, a dragon princess in my bed, and your are going to have my children”
“No”, you whined, he made you lay on the bed, him over you
“I’ll make a doe out of you yet”, he said, you spread your legs for him, it was almost automatic, you realized he still had this power over you. He has taught you the ways of pleasure…
But he stopped, as he looked down on you, he lean in and kissed you softly
“I’m not going to have you like this”, he whispered against your lips, “I will earn your trust again, I fucking promise”, you didn’t say anything as you looked into his eyes.
You were not going to trust him, you didn’t know if you even could forgive him.
But you were never truly going to know his true reasons about marrying you
Because both things could be true, he could love you, but also he could have married you for your blood.
For your blood and his.
For the Iron throne.
PART II