Chapter 1: I
It had been King Robert's idea to make things into a tournament. The idea had come to his mind when his new Queen announced she was pregnant again - just half a year after the birth of their first child.
Queen Cersei had been King Robert's wife for years under your father found out she'd been cheating on him with none other than her own twin brother, Sir Jaime Lannister. Not only that, but all three of the Baratheon children were actually the offspring of their incestuous relationship.
For months the whole kingdom fought again the Lannisters. The children were executed along with their real father, and Cersei was said to still have tears on her cheeks when the King came to her dungeon and choke the life out of her with his bare hands. Lord Tywin rose against the crown but was decapitated in battle. The few who weren't killed were allowed to go into exile in the East, to never come back, and his Grace was quick to marry again.
His Queen now was a lovely girl near your age, Margaery Tyrell. She was a beauty, sweet of heart and as in love with her King as she could ever be. Their first-born was a boy, black of hair and blue of eyes, a big child who resembled his father, named Steffon after his grandfather. This one was also a boy and had been named Jon, as a homage to your father.
King Robert now had two sons to call his own, boys who looked so much like himself he couldn't ever start thinking they were bastards, and he wanted to celebrate it with a tournament.
That tournament meant King's Landing was full of visitors, and as the Hand of the King's daughter, you were required to be welcoming many of them along with your father.
"The Starks will be here in a minute," your father told you. "Your aunt will be happy to see you again."
You simply nodded, waiting at the breakfast table while your stepmother still fed your brother in his room. You weren't Lysa Tully's daughter, no, but your step-aunt - her sister - had been enough of an influence on your that you dropped the prefix when you were still a child and had to spend more than a year with the Tully family in Riverrun while your father fought along with Lord Stark and King Robert. That was where the name of your younger half-brother, the only son of Lady Lysa and your father, came from. Lady Catelyn had cared for you like the mother you never had, as you hadn't had the opportunity to meet yours.
You were the daughter of Lady Jeyne Royce, your father's first wife, a child from an unlikely pregnancy when she was 47, after over 25 years of marriage between your parents. She, unfortunately, passed away right after your birth, and though he had married someone before Lysa, Lady Rowena Arryn, his cousin, they had no children, and everyone was sure this marriage would be fruitless just as well. And then Robert was born just a few months after you had flowered.
He was already eight, but still would attach himself to his mother's breast like a baby, hungry and ridiculous. It had stopped being lovely years ago, it was just embarrassing.
You hadn't seen your aunt Catelyn for a few years now. She was older than your stepmother by two or three years, but much prettier and loving. That that Lysa said anything about that, you had a feeling she didn't quite like her sister for some reason.
A knock on the door followed by a guard opening it made the two of you stand up and walk to the centre of the room.
"Lord Stark and his family," he announced just as the four walked inside the chamber.
The tall dark-haired man who crossed the room was welcomed warmly by your father just as well as his wife and two children, your oldest cousins.
"It is good to see you again, Jon," your aunt declared with a smile before approaching you. "And Y/N."
"Lady Aunt," you hugged her, stepping back silently. "I'm happy to see you again."
"The happiness is all mine," she took one of your hands, squeezing it tightly. "I was looking forward to seeing you."
You frowned, though still smiling.
"Well… I'm here," you spoke slowly.
Your aunt just continued to grin, and Lord Stark walked to you, simply nodding.
"Lady Y/N."
"Lord Stark," you greeted him.
"You have grown," he noticed.
From the other side of the room, your father seemed very happy with the remark, which puzzled you more.
"She's a woman grown already," he affirmed proudly. "Just as smart as her father, I always said. And a great beauty, of course."
You flushed, embarrassed by the compliments.
"You make me blush like this father," you looked away from their eyes.
Your aunt didn't seem to be taken aback by your reaction.
"Your father is right," she agreed. "Do you think so too, Robb?"
Your eyes widened and flew to the young man, who was still standing by the door and looked slightly surprised.
"Yes, mother. Lady Y/N is a beautiful lady."
You eyed him hesitantly.
"Thank you, Robb."
By his side, Sansa giggled, and her brother elbowed her on the side, making her stop and cover her mouth.
"Sorry."
Your father cleared his throat, making all of you look at him.
"Let's seat," he offered. "Robert woke up with a bad disposition, Lysa decided to stay with him."
You pressed your lips together.
When was Robert ever in a good disposition?
"Let's have breakfast, then," Lord Stark decided.
You agreed silently and stood stiffly when Robb pulled a chair for you right beside your father before going to his own father's side, thanking him silently and not missing the smirks from Lady Stark and your younger cousin.
Robb was Lord Stark's older son, though he was just 18. You were there when he was born in Riverrun, during the time both your father and Lord Stark left to fight in the rebellion that would bring King Robert to the throne, though you had no memories of it. He had other siblings beside Sansa too: A girl named Arya, a boy named Bran - just around your brother's age - and another boy named Rickon.
She was having children left to right while your stepmother struggled to conceive since the beginning of her married to your father. Maybe that was why she didn't like her sister.
Who were you to know?
The food was served swiftly and quickly, and your father was quick to start a conversation once you were all eating, fading some of the tension on the table.
"His Grace is delighted with the news from your family," he told the table.
"So I've heard," Lord Stark agreed. "We're ready to make the announcement and, of course, he had to be the first to know, now that we're here."
You frowned, looking over him.
"An announcement, Lord Uncle?" you questioned.
Sansa smiled largely. She was a lovely girl, recently turned 16.
"I'm betrothed," she affirmed, excited. "To Queen Margaery's older brother, Lord Willas."
"Oh," you relaxed. "That's great, Sansa!"
For a moment, for some reason, you were afraid your father was going to announce he intended to engage you to Robb. Only the gods knew how much your dad was acting strange, talking and talking about your step-cousin and his qualities for weeks now.
"I know!" she explained. "I know he is a..." she looked for words. "An unusual man."
The word people usually chose to talk about him was cripple, but you understood what she meant.
Lord Willas was a very active man when he was your age, but after a horse accident with Prince Oberyn Martell – the younger brother of Prince Doran Martell, ruler of Dorne – he had been left with a permanent limp, which usually distanced many suitors from him.
Still, he was an interesting man. When you travelled to Highgarden with your father, when he was to set up the betrothal between Lady Margaery and King Robert, you had had the opportunity of talking to him.
"Lord Willas is a good companion," you affirmed. "I've had the pleasure of meeting him once when we visited Highgarden, he is very clever and charming."
"I haven't seen his face yet," she confessed. "But he has written to me and his letters are beautiful."
Robb snickered by her side.
"So many love poems," he sighed. "They arrive by the week."
That just made you chuckle.
"I'm sure they're beautiful," you smiled at her.
Your cousin grinned openly, ignoring her brother's words.
"Do you like them?" she asked. "Love poems?"
No, no really.
You found love poems quite a waste of time. You had things to do, as you were your father's only assistant when it came to managing his own things. He always took great care of the kingdom, which meant he had no time to care for your family, and with your mother always doing everything and anything for Robert… well, it was left to you to care for everything else.
You had nor the time nor the freedom to sit and waste your day with something so frivolous.
"Y/N," your aunt called from her place on the table. "Sansa and I are going to spend some time with the Tyrells after lunch, Willas has come to the tournament, and she's eager to spend some time with him."
You chuckled.
"I would be too in her place," you agreed. "It's not every day you get to spend time with your fiancé on such a festive occasion."
"Do you have your day free?" she asked.
You looked over at your father, unsure.
"I'm sure I can give her up a bit," he affirmed, smiling at you.
You'd been to many afternoons with Queen Margaery. She was a lovely wioman, and a good mother to her children.
"Then you wouldn't mind showing Robb around, would you?" she asked, still grinning largely. "He's excited about the tournament."
You swallowed down.
Of course.
Robb.
"What do you want to see first?" you asked, looking around as you two strode to the corridors.
Maybe he would get bored or satisfied soon, and you leave you alone, right?
He sighed, not even looking at you as you two walked, and mumbled something you couldn't quite understand, making you sigh.
"Can you at least pretend like you care?" you hissed, stopping and looking at him. "I had better things to do with my day, and now I'm here, so can you at least make my time useful?"
He sighed, and you covered your face.
"We better just go back," you decided, but he held you by your arm before you could move away.
"Show me your favourite place," he decided. "We can do something you like."
You frowned, confused, and looked him up and down, realising something was very wrong.
"Why?"
Robb hesitated, still stiff, and tried to offer you a charming smile.
"We can spend time together," he offered you. "What do you like doing?"
Charming?
Robb was never charming with you.
"Spit it," you commanded. "What are you hiding?"
Your step-cousin sighed.
"Y/N..."
"I'm going to find out sooner or later," you interrupted him.
Robb rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated, and put his hands on his waist.
"We are to be married," he told you. "Probably around the same time as Sansa and Willas."
You stared at him for a long moment in silence.
"No, we're not," you answered simply. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Robb's shoulders dropped.
"They want us to spend time together and get to know one another before things are official," he explained. "Father wants Sansa to turn 17 before her wedding, so she won't be so young, and it won't be so close to the Royal wedding, and that would give the two of us time to become as friendly as her and Willas."
You nodded, slowly taking in the information.
That couldn't be it. Your father wasn't going to force you to marry Robb Stark, out of all people. He was a boy, still a child.
"Yeah, I'm afraid that's not going to happen," you decided, at last. "There is no way I'm marrying you."
He was kidding you. Robb was absolutely joking. He had to be.
Your father would never force you to marry anyone! He knew you had no wish of separating yourself from him. He was the only family you had.
"Do you think I would lie like this about that?" Robb asked, shocked. "You are the last person I would want to marry."
His words made you stop in your overthinking.
What was he talking about? You were one of the best suitors in King's Landing.
"Oh?" you exclaimed. "You're talking of me? I'm the one who is going to be forced into a marriage with a boy who can't even grow a beard."
His nostrils flared up and Robb puffed his chest.
"And do you think I would want to be married to someone as old as you?" he spat out. "You're already 21 and never got betrothed or attracted any suitors. You might be beautiful, but you are insufferable!"
You raised your eyebrows at him, surprised with the low blow and ready to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Apparently, Lord Stark had more to say.
"And I don't even know if you'll even be able to give me children," he remarked. "You might even be just as barren as your mother."
You froze on your spot.
No matter the situation, you indeed considered Robb as your cousin and relative, a member of your family. You had played with him as a child in the few visits Aunt Catelyn had made to the Eyrie in the few times you were there. Honestly, you wouldn't have cared had anyone else made that comment about you, about your mother.
But not him. Not someone from your family.
Robb took in a deep breath, and shame spread on his face.
"Y/N, I'm sorry, I…"
You didn't let him finish. Before he could say another word, your hand collided with his face, the strong slap echoing through the halls.
Before he could respond and say anything, you pulled the skirts of your dress up, enough to free your legs, and rushed into a random direction, feeling your face warm and your eyes blurring through tears.
He wouldn't see you cry. You wouldn't let him.
You strode to your chambers through one of the quietest corridors, hoping no one would catch you in your way, when you bumped into someone, almost falling down before a hand caught your arm.
"Careful, Lady Arryn," the man helped you onto your feet.
Your eyes widened once you realised who was holding you.
Prince Oberyn Martell.
"Thank you, your grace," you stepped back. "Sorry."
Perhaps, maybe, not surely, but also not... not, you felt some sort of attraction for Prince Oberyn. Well, not, some sort of attraction, just... attraction.
You'd only seen him around a few time, it wasn't like you were used to his company or anything like that, but in his few visits to King's Landing, he'd proven himself to be a good company, just as well a very good-looking man and, if the rumours that made you blush were correct, a very talented lover.
Not that you knew a lot about that, of course, but people talked. A lot.
"What is wrong?" he asked. "You look upset."
You took in a deep breath and swallowed down when he reached for you, swiping a thumb over your cheek and drying a tear.
"Nothing," you shook your head, suddenly afraid you were looking silly in front of him. "Just… some kid said something he shouldn't about my mother. It's a sore subject."
He nodded gently.
"I'm sorry for what they did, Lady Arryn," Oberyn agreed. "I lost my mother when I was very young too, and I certainly would be very upset if someone ill-spoke about her."
You swallowed down, trying to keep your tears to yourself.
"Thank you, your grace," you looked down and was quick to change the subject. "I… uh… I didn't know you would be in the tournament."
He shrugged gently.
"I won't," he told you. "I just decided to visit, see how everything is. And wish you a happy nameday, of course."
Your eyes widened as you stared at him.
"Thank you, your grace," you muttered. "I didn't know anyone remembered. This is all about Prince Jon."
He shook his head.
"You are much more interesting than the Prince, my lady," he corrected you. "You are a very dedicated daughter and one of the smartest women I've ever met, and I've been to many places."
You felt your cheeks flushing warm, and he just watched you.
"Thank you, your grace."
"You can call me Oberyn," he pointed out. "Please, Lady Y/N."
You nodded.
"Thank you, Oberyn," you corrected yourself. "You can call me Y/N too."
He smiled.
"Of course, Y/N," he agreed. "Why don't we find a place to sit down? You look like you might need a moment to breathe."
You licked your lips, looking around.
"Well, the library is just around the corner. There are places to seat."
He agreed and followed you silently onto the castle's library just as the sounds from the tournament echoed through the castle, and when you arrived, the place was empty, and only had a guard by the door who didn't even look at you two.
"It's a beautiful place," he looked around.
You confirmed with a hum, sitting down on the closest chair.
"Empty too," you pointed out. "Not a lot of people come around here. Especially during festivities."
Oberyn nodded.
"Do you spend a lot of time here?" he asked.
You shook your head.
"No, not really," you denied. "I'm usually dealing with family things. Finances, requests from Lord of the Eyrie, general administrating work from back home. Father is usually too busy to do anything about them."
He seemed surprised, raising his perfectly dark eyebrows at you.
"So you administrate the Eyrie, and you take care of your father's household while he cares for the seven kingdoms?" he asked.
You nodded.
"And nothing in between that?" he leant closer to you, dark deep eyes staring into yours. "No time for yourself?"
The question made you chuckle.
"When I have the occasional minute for myself, I'm here," you pointed around. "Usually around the same books, trying to stay away from my crazy stepmother and… yeah. That's it."
He tilted his head a bit.
"Will you show them to me?" he requested.
"Oh," you raised your eyebrows. "Of course."
You walked in the direction of the section where they kept your favourite books, running your hands on the wooden shells slowly and mentally counting the steps that always took you to reach them before stopping and turning to Oberyn.
"There we go," you told him. "My little spot in this library."
When you turned around, Oberyn was staring right at you, silently and closer than you'd even realised he'd been.
"It's a nice place," he confirmed, licking his lips. "But that's it?"
You shrugged, and he reached for you, pushing your hair behind your ear.
"Don't you ever do anything for yourself?"
Your breath got caught in your throat, and you licked your lips, though a bit hesitant.
You lived your life for your father, doing anything and everything for him, and nothing for yourself, and what did he do for you? Schemed behind your back to betroth you without even asking your opinion on it, without considering what you wanted for your life.
He was right. It was time for you to do something for yourself. You were single, after all, no one knew you were betrothed to Robb yet, and you didn't agree with it. You were free to do what you wanted.
"Maybe I can do it now," you rested your shoulders on the shelf, and Oberyn smirked.
"Maybe."
He leant closer to you and stopped, giving you space to either move away and or approach him, and you the one to break the distance between the two of you, kissing his lips and practically melting on your spot when he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, pulling you closer and allowing you to relax onto his grip and deepen the kiss.
Yes, you were very free to do whatever you want.
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