theladyofhimring: (Sansa)
Fandom: ASoIaF
Pairing: Ned Dayne/Sansa Stark 
Disclaimer: All ASoIaF belongs to Martin, no money made, no ownership claimed.
Prompt: From the "Valar-MoreKinks" meme.

It wasn't fair and yet...
 
Daenerys knew herself well enough to know this, she was jealous of Sansa Stark.
 
She shouldn't be, but she was.
 
Sansa was a beautiful woman. She herself had been called beautiful, some even said she was the most beautiful woman in the world, yet, standing next to Sansa, she felt plain. Even if her silver locks shone and with bejeweled eyes, she felt nothing compared to a woman who was, in her opinion, a far greater beauty.
 
Sansa was tall and lean, but with curves that made many men look at her. A face that seemed to be carved of the finest marble, with high cheekbones, rosy lips and sparkling eyes. A soft and kind voice rounded her physical attributes.
 
And she was loved. Oh she was.
 
Unlike herself.
 
While people both lowborn and noble alike flocked to her, she was under no delusions as to why. She had regained a throne by conquest, with three ever growing dragons, she who had not hesitated to end her enemies. So people came to her, for power, for greed, for desired, but none of them came for love.
 
Sansa was loved in court, she made herself loved by being kind and gentle. She had time for all who went to her. War and suffering had made her wise, and she used her wisdom in favor for those who needed it.
 
She had been the one to answer the call in the name of Little Lord Arryn when it came to the battle to prevent the Long Night. She had even distributed food wisely to both the Riverlands and the North. And whenever she was needed in the capital, she made sure she did charity freely and joyfully. The people loved her. She was tolerated and feared.
 
And she was loved in a more intimate manner too.
 
Her own marriage lacked love, it had yet to come and she wanted it. She hoped for it, but so far, it was only a political marriage, no more.

She had seen the way Lord Dayne looked at Sansa, and every time she felt a knot in her throat, it was the same way her Sun and Stars looked at her. So full of love and devotion, like she could do no wrong. But then, maybe in his eyes, she didn't.
 
Once, she had asked them to join her for a private dinner. She wanted to know more, she wanted to satiate her curiosity, so she had asked how they met. Lord Dayne had recalled with perfect detail when they had met in Winterfell, what now felt seemed a lifetime ago, when the former royal retinue had gone North.
 
But he had confessed that they had not been properly introduced until the war. He had gone North again, he said, to fight the coming darkness when she had been the one receiving visitors and he had been left speechless, struck dumb by her beauty.
 
Sansa had laughed then, and admitted that she had found him handsome then, but was wary, after all, many had tried for her hand and her inheritance. But after the war, when her sister Arya had been the one to declare him one of the good ones, she gave him the chance.
 
And now there they were, married and in complete joy. She had smiled politely then, but had felt an enormous amount of jealousy then.
 
And now? It seemed like the slaps never stopped. Sansa had announced that she was with child, four moons gone, and was glowing with happiness and she? Nothing. The Maesters told her to wait, not to rush, babes took time they said.
 
But she remembered her Rhaego and felt a bitterness unlike any other. She wanted a child more than anything. A babe to love and felt joy over, another member of House Targaryen. An heir, but so far, no luck.
 
And the jealousy she felt over Sansa Stark was irrational and deep.

...and yet she was The Queen.

Joy

Apr. 6th, 2017 03:13 pm
theladyofhimring: (Default)
 Fandom: ASoIaF
Disclaimer: All ASoIaF belongs to Martin, no money made, no ownership claimed
Words: 466
Characters: Rhaella Targaryen
Prompt: From the Valar-Morkinks meme. Round 12
Note: I messed with the timeline a little so it worked better.

There is not much to do on Dragonstone and, even if there was, no one would ask it of her. She is the Queen and she's pregnant, so all servants and maids treat her with the utmost respect, always ready to do her bidding, her only responsibility is to look after Viserys.

And that idleness will be the death her, she thinks. War rages and she has no way of knowing how it goes. It's a complete torture to be unable to know, her son is fighting, her gooddaughter a hostage in all but name, her little grandchildren with their mother in the hands of a monster. She only has Viserys for comfort.

She prays, it's the only thing she can do now. She kneels in the Sept and begs the Mother for wisdom and strength, the Warrior to guide her son and those loyal to House Targaryen. And she prays daily, every morning after breaking their fast, while Viserys is attending to his studies with the Maester, she prays. Begs even.

And she's on the Sept when the letter arrives. And she feels herself crumble, it is only her ladies in waiting that prevent her from hitting the floor. Her baby, her Rhaegar is dead. And she weeps and hugs herself and screams. Her boy is gone, she will never see him again, will never hear him play the harp, will never hear his voice nor see him smile that little smile of hers.

That night she sleeps with Viserys and she holds him tight to her chest.

Her days pass in a fog, she goes through the motions because she has to. But feels empty and lost. She starts to knit a baby blanket, this baby of her will have need of it, and she prays to the Mother that her baby lives. She already lost one, she cannot loose another in such a short time.

She wonders the gardens and knits there, she holds onto hope of a daughter. A baby girl to care for and spoil. And so, the months pass and her due date comes closer.

And then, a second letter arrives.

Her husband is dead. Killed by Jaime Lannister. And her breath catches in her throat, and feels something bubbling inside of her. And she does not cry. She has no tears to spare for that monster. And then it happens. She lets out a breath and giggles. And her giggles turn into chuckles and then full on laughter.

And she laughs for the first time in what she feels is an eternity. She laughs so hard she cries, and even though they may be loosing the war, she feels like she just gained her freedom. And she feels joy.

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Ely Stark

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