SHIPBREAKER BAY
277 AC
Stormlands – Shipbreaker Bay
She couldn't bear the feeling of sand between her feet, especially knowing her father's dead body had been dragged through the very same substance. Holding her mother's tightly, Shiera followed her eldest brother as he led them to a dozen or so boulder-sized men. As Drazenko neared them, the man who stood front and centre of the group came forward to greet them.
Letting her daughters hand go, Alyse spoke up, fearing her son would ruin ties with the Baratheon's before they had even been made. "Our condolences Lord Baratheon had we known a storm was-,"
Robert Baratheon held his hand up in protest, "both our families have lost a father today, there's no need for that Lady Rogare."
There was shuffling behind them and Shiera watched as their hired men from Lys carried everyone else's trunks towards the ghastly castle behind them. How had she not noticed it?
A younger looking boy who had been stood as still as stone stepped forward to stand next to Robert. "Your men can follow ours up towards the castle, the entrance gets a little confusing."
Robert glowered at the younger boy, "you must excuse my younger brother, he has forgotten his manners. Stannis, second son."
Drazenko scoffed, "you take us for fools, I have studied your families lineage Lord Baratheon."
Robert frowned at Drazenko, obviously, his father had not warned him of his .. crude nature. "Lord –" the young, new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was cut off from introductions.
Drazenko glared up at the boy, though Robert Baratheon was younger than him, he stood close to his height. "Where's my father's body?" He asked, watching as Robert looked his family up and down twice.
It was Alyse's turn to cut off her son. The boy had just lost both his parents, they were all mourning. "We must thank you for welcoming us into your home Lord Robert, on such a short notice."
Drazenko rolled his eyes at her lack of knowledge on Westerosi manners. "And so on and so on...show us the body."
Robert looked down at Drazenko, amazed at his coldness. Was this supposed man not his father, assuming by the sad looks etched on his mother and siblings faces. "It's in the crypts, we figured you'd want the body cleaned and-..."
Fuck this man was rude, Robert thought to himself, he was cut off again!
"He's dead, what possible reason would we want the body cleaned for?"
"Respect," it was Stannis Baratheon's turn to talk, angered by the disrespect that the foreigner showed his brother.
"I only respect those with a heartbeat," Drazenko snapped back, his red eyes boring into Stannis' own.
"And you're sure you have one!?" Valaar snapped, pulling his mother and sister forward. "Lord Baratheon, I apologise for my brother's actions, if you'd be so kind as to lead us to our rooms."
Robert nodded his head in understanding. "Of course."
He bowed his head curtly and held his hand out for Drazenko to shake. Her brother disregarded his a
Stormlands – Storms End
Shiera couldn't keep her eyes off the sea clashing beneath her. She had been shown her rooms and left to grieve her father's death alone, with her brothers attending the formal matters of their transportation to the Capitol or in her own words doing nothing. There was a loud knock at her door and she moved from the window quickly to pull it open.
Was everything here mad of stone? She thought to herself, rubbing her wrists at the size of the door.
"My mother used to say this castle was made for giants." It was Robert. Shiera smiled softly, watching as he looked to the floor shortly and then back up at her again. "I came to see how you were fitting it."
Shiera nodded her head in appreciation. She wasn't used to talking to many people, let alone men. "I'm good," she squeaked.
"My brother Stannis isn't the best with placing, sorry he put you in the scariest room," Robert smiled.
Shiera's eyes budged out. "Scariest?"
Robert let out a stiff laugh, "scariest view, I didn't mean to frighten you."
Shiera felt her shoulders sink in relief, she tapped her foot awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "So...is it always this cold in your homeland?"
Robert closed the door behind him, watching as servants hustled and bustled behind him preparing for both a funeral and their departure. "No, just here in the Stormlands. Different weather for different names you could say."
"Your ancestors must've been creative," she chuckled, taking back her spot in front of the large window. Robert stood next to her, hands behind his back. "I quite prefer the cold, Lys' weather was too...hot."
Robert scoffed, "you'll like Dragonstone then if Rhaegar chooses to hide you away there."
Shiera snapped back at him. "I won't be hidden anywhere. Not anymore." The last words came out as mumbles.
Robert put his hands up in surrender. "Tell that to your betrothed, not your friend."
Shiera sighed, turning away from him. She had noticed though that his eyes had a slight puffiness to them, his cheeks and lips smiled but his eyes refused to be a part of the façade he was putting on. "Sorry, it's just..." she bit her lip wondering if she could trust this stranger, "my brother has controlled my entire life, from what I wore to what I ate and if I can I won't let it happen again. Or I'll try my best not to."
"Rhaegar is a good man," Robert simply responded. He looked at her attire and clicked his tongue, "would you like me to call in a seamstress? You don't want to disappoint the royal family in their own home do you now?"
How could we possibly afford a nobleman's seamstress? Shiera thought to herself. If she declined, she'd have to make do with her mother's clothing retrieved from Shipbreaker Bay, if she accepted...well she wouldn't even be able to pay for the dresses.
Robert saw her pondering the idea but before she could respond he spoke up. "Consider it an early wedding gift from the Baratheon's, after all, we are responsible for the union." He smiled, winking at her as he made his way out of her room. "I'll send for the seamstress first thing tomorrow, as for today you can explore, have your supper or rest. We leave for the capitol in a sennight. I'll have lunch brought in. Good day, Lady Rogare." With that his exist was final, leaving as quickly as he had entered.
...
As he returned to his chambers to mourn, Stannis Baratheon couldn't help but come to despise the family who had been partly responsible for his parent's deaths. Better yet, families. He couldn't deny that the Targaryen's were his family through his paternal grandmother, but that did not mean he hated them any less. He hated Aerys for his demented and perverse thoughts, wondering exactly why the crown had to be kept in their name or as close to it. He wondered if his parents had the unfortunate mishap of having a daughter as a first born if she would be the one that would've been offered to Rhaegar. Maybe the lack of a female counterpart for the Prince was a sign that it was finally time to leave their old ways.
He watched as the eldest Rogare ordered his families servants to prepare his fathers' body. What for, Stannis had no clue. He made a beeline for the entrance of the Godswood, wanting to come to understand the brother of his soon to be ... good-cousin first removed or whatever the hell they were about to be... he thought to himself.
Walking behind Drazenko he carefully began to speak. "Where will you bury him?" He asked, wondering why he had refused the offer of burying him in their crypts.
Drazenko turned to Stannis, who took a step back, his piercing red eyes jolting his heart awake. "I won't," he responded gruffly.
"So you will just let his body rot out here?" Stannis asked, not wanting to tell him he could not do that for fear of being sliced in half by the man.
Drazenko let out a curt laugh. "He doesn't deserve it." He nodded his head indicating for the servants to do as they had been told. Apparently, that had been lying dead grass, twigs and tree covers on and around the wrapped body.
"You cannot burn a body here. It's a sacred place," Stannis warned him.
Drazenko really laughed at him now. "You think I give a shit about your gods? You mistake me, Lord Stannis Baratheon." Before Stannis could even rebut, a torch was thrown onto the body engulfed it in flames. Stannis took a few steps back, the heat and smell of a burning body becoming unbearable. "Tell that to your Gods," Drazenko spat.
Stannis bit the inside of his cheek, revolted by the smell the burning body was creating. "You know ... once you are in Kings Landing you cannot do as you please. The King is not one to tolerate shit stirrers."
Drazenko clicked his tongue in distaste, growing tired of the young boy. "Your King will learn to live with it."
It was Stannis' turn to laugh, he pondered on warning him of the deteriorating state of King Aerys but chose against it. So instead, he patted him on the shoulder, "you know what? You're right. He must learn to live with it. Give them hell," and with that, he made his way back into the castle.
...
Valaar wondered the halls of the great castle. Their entire home was a servants room compared to the grand scale of Storms End. Not only was it designed for functionality, but through his eyes, for beauty. Lost in his trance by the interior of the castle, Valaar didn't notice its owner, Robert Baratheon and walked right into him.
"Watch where you're going," Robert huffed, dusting himself off.
Valaar shook his head, "sorry," he muttered moving aside to continue his walk.
Robert sighed and patted his back. "I knew this day would come, it's just taking a little readjusting..."
"I understand, I'm not exactly the one taking over my family so I cannot relate," Valaar smiled light-heartedly. "I wish you well though, Lord Baratheon."
"And I you," Robert smiled back. There was a second of shuffling, as neither knew how to exit the situation they were currently in. "If you're looking for your sisters' room, it's the one at the end of the hallway. Do tell her that her betrothed is on his way, we're having a family funeral tonight when they arrive."
Valaar nodded a thank you and left Robert to his own devices. Knocking on the door lightly, he waited for his sister to respond. "Come in," her faint voice rang from inside.
Pushing the door open, Valaar stumbled in. "Sister," he smiled giving her a light kiss on the cheek. She had been sitting at a table and was fumbling with the tea tray that was set in front of her. "I hear the Targaryen's arrival is expected soon."
Shiera's eyes perked up, a nervous churning erupting in her stomach. "How soon?"
"Soon enough for the new Lord to host a private family funeral for his parents with them."
Shiera shook her head. "We ought to be ashamed of ourselves. Letting Drazenko ridicule fathers memory in such a way."
Valaar glared at the girl. "If it weren't for our beloved father we would be living comfortably back at home, better yet we wouldn't have to beg to survive off of Westerosi," he reminded her.
Shiera rolled her eyes, feeling his cool touch on her shoulders. She reached over to touch his own hand and patted it gently. "Nevertheless, he was still our father. We would not be alive if it weren't for him."
Valaar struggled to come up with a rebuttal, and sighed resting his chin on the oak chair she was sat on. "Let's run away, you and me."
As soon as he had said it he regretted the words leaving his mouth. His sister's neck snapped back at him and she stood from her seat abruptly. "Oh because two white-haired people strolling through towns wouldn't be seen as outsiders?"
"We can rub tar in it," Valaar shrugged.
Shiera scoffed at him. "We'll just rub tar in our eyes two while we're at it? Or shall we cover your red eye with an eyepatch, and we'll gouge mine out?"
"What's the matter with you?" Valaar snapped, wondering when his sister had gotten so jolty and gruesome with her words. He touched his red eye attentively. "At least I would have a cover," he boasted glad that their dysfunctional genetical makeup had given him at least one normal looking blue eye.
"Then leave," Shiera suggested. "You have the option, leave. Sail back home with your men or wander around this shit hole."
Valaar sat her back down on the chair. "I know you are angry ... and I know I am the only person you can share that anger with but there is no reason to be angry with me. I'm not the reason why we're here." He reminded her, placing his hand on her shoulder once more.
Shiera sighed and closed her eyes. "I know. I just ... I thought I would at least have the option of choosing who I wanted to marry."
"Just because we will not be married, doesn't mean we cannot be lovers." Shiera stood from her seat, brushing his hands off her shoulders, growing repulsed by her brother. Valaar scoffed, "don't act like you don't share my love. We can do as we please here. The royal family is made up of brothers and sisters getting married." His tone quickly changed as he walked towards her and placed her hands on his chest.
"Valaar!' Shiera snapped. "The Targaryen's do not marry each other for love, the marry each other to keep power in their name." She reminded him, disgusted at his proposal.
He held tightly to her hands as she tried to shake them off. "I am in love with you, always have been and always will be can't you see? Shiera we are for each other," Valaar rambled.
As he continued his words of affection, Shiera managed to shake her hands free from his. "We cannot see each other anymore Valaar. You make it difficult for me to love you as a sister should love a brother. I put up with it in Lys because I believed that one day I could make you realise the perverted nature of your ways but you are unchangeable."
She saw pools of water form in his eyes as her words left her mouth, but she did not regret them, for she knew she was right. "You don't mean that you're just angry at Drazenko for the betrothal."
"No! I am angry at both of you for being perverted freaks. It's wrong Valaar, it's wrong and disgusting. I would never love you outside of a brother and if it is harsh words that must remind you then so be it."
Valaar nodded his head, not in understanding but rather in denial. "Well, we don't have to go through the extremes of never seeing each other again. I am your brother and will be with you until your first son is born under oath." His efforts had not stopped there, as she pondered his words Valaar took her small face planted a kiss on her lips and made for the door. "We will be lovers, I will not stop fighting for you until the day I breathe my last breath."
He may have left on a dementedly romantic note, but for Shiera it repulsed her to no end. The small lunch she had been served under Robert's instruction made its way back out and landed on the cool black floor of Storms End.
I wonder. Shiera thought to herself, looking at her vomit on the floor. Was I such a terrible human in my past life that I had to be brought into this one?
I'm back with this story! For all of you who read Lust and Fire please remember it is now The Emancipation of Rhaegar. Anyway! This was more of a filler chapter, our girl will meet Rhaegar in the next one. Let me know what you thought of it. I'm trying to make Drazenko into a Ivar the boneless (vikings) kind of guy, just evil for the shits and giggles soon. Will he get along with Aerys or not dun dun dunnnnnn. I hope you all enjoyed! Sorry as well I know I said November 12th but as you all know my posting is horrible and I make promises I can't keep :((((
Love.
xxx