(Winterfell, The North, Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, Westeros, Planetos)
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(Queen Cersei Lannister POV)
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If there was one good thing that could be said of the North, it's that they knew how to throw a good feast. Robert - thank the gods - had proven to grow into their marriage, he'd shown more self-control than he had in the early days of their marriage and her deal with Jon Arryn had led them to warmer life together. Lyonel truly was a golden child.
Despite his Baratheon looks, he had inherited her beauty - naturally in a masculine form - and yet, he'd also inherited a form of the Lannister cunning. Though many considered Joffrey more handsome than his elder brother, Lyonel made up for it with his Baratheon strength of body and sharp intellect. His scars notwithstanding he'd inherited the best Houses Lannister and Baratheon had to offer, his siblings inheriting it to lesser degrees.
What kept her up at night however was Joffrey. Each day she began to regret laying with Jaime all those years ago. Lyonel, Myrcella, and Tommen were perfect physically and mentally in practically every way, and if the gossip was to be believed, Lyonel had inherited his manhood from his father. Joffrey by comparison however good he appeared physically was unfit mentally. She'd been given many examples, but the day she heard him voicing a desire to see Lyonel dead to become the Crown Prince was a wake-up call. Joffrey was deeply flawed, her belief that the Targaryen's only showed the worst of brother-sister coupling was shattered. Which made her very grateful she'd stuck to the terms of the deal with Jon Arryn.
Nevertheless, she was concerned about her eldest. Not because of Joffrey, no, his keeping of a Paramour and the fact he was talking up a Northern Girl reminded her so much of Robert in the early days of their marriage. Hopefully her eldest proved more amenable to his wife than Robert had originally been to her. She and Robert both knew all too well how hard it was to move past first loves.
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(POV Shift: Crown Prince Lyonel Baratheon)
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The girl he had been talking to was one Wylla Manderly, she was only a year his junior, but she was delightful. She had a fierceness he found attractive, and it was harder than usual to try and seduce a girl with her. But he'd suggested she join him later, and had been working on seducing her most of the feast. With any luck she'd join him as he suggested.
But the dances were now happening, and decorum demanded he dance with Catelyn Stark as soon as his father and Lord Stark had finished dancing with their respective wives, which was his current situation.
''You dance well.'' Lady Catelyn notes.
''Not as good as Myrcella or Tommen, but unlike Joffrey I do my best to learn things. That Girl, Wylla Manderly, it is strange to find fellow worshippers of the Seven in the North. Must have been hard for you? Even knowing the Manderly's still value their southron roots and gods and that you're not alone here?'' He said.
''Lord Stark was kind enough to have a sept constructed.'' She says.
''Even so, this is the North, a place where the Old Gods are so intrinsically linked together it's impossible to completely separate them.'' He says.
''I make do.'' Says Lady Stark.
''As you say. A pleasure, Lady Stark, but I promised my mother a dance before we arrived.'' He said.
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''Lyonel, be very careful. She's a Highborn girl, you might be able to get away bedding the oldest child of Lord Velaryon, but you are betrothed to a daughter of a Great House. Don't do something that you'll regret.'' His mother warned him.
''If you must know mother, I've not finished inside a woman ever. I still have some sense in my head. As for Lady Wylla? I try not to fuck whores, and I haven't felt Daeneria's touch in over a month, you can't expect me to remain celibate between now and the month it will take to get us back to court surely?'' He says exasperatedly.
''I'm just saying-''
''Mother, I'm exceptionally careful and very selective with who I take to my bed. Don't worry so much.'' Says Lyonel as their dance begins to come to an end.
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Lyonel had gone to bed early, but not before paying Wylla extra compliments and flirting with her. With any luck she'd join him for the night, as he left he spotted uncle Tyrion chatting with Jon Snow.
''What the hell do you know about being a Bastard?'' Jon asked angrily.
''Holy shit…'' Lyonel whispered, here he was, he was hearing it in person.
''All Dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes.'' With that, his favorite uncle walked off.
''He's right you know.'' Lyonel said, walking up to Jon. My grandfather told me once, that the day that uncle Tyrion was born, he wanted nothing more than to take the newborn dwarf to the shore and let the waves take him. The only reason he didn't was because ultimately, my uncle Tyrion was my grandfather's son.
''Prince Lyonel…'' Jon began.
''If you're thinking about joining the Night's Watch, I strongly urge you to consider it further. The Wall barely has a thousand men guarding it, and less than half a hundred of those men are there because they're not criminals, fewer still because they had any choice in the matter. Think on it very carefully, Jon Snow. Only a King may relieve you of your oath, but you would doubtless be unwelcome in the North for the rest of your days.'' With that, Lyonel took his leave.
Hopefully he'd have company for the night, and if not, more's the pity. But he could always seek out Ros at the local brothel…
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(POV Shift: Lady Wylla Manderly)
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She cried out in euphoric pleasure as Prince Lyonel went down on her. He was so skilled with his tongue. She'd spent herself several times, but he'd not let up. Finally he crawled up and was positioned above her. She glanced down and saw his large manhood hanging, a well-kept thick bush of black hair above his cock.
With shaky hands she grabbed hold of his cock which twitched in her hands.
''May I?'' He grunts.
This was so scandalous.
''Yes.'' She said quietly, he grabbed her by the face, gently yet firmly.
''You can say no, and we will stop.'' He says and she's grateful for that, but she doesn't think she could say no.
''Please, inside me.'' She says breathlessly.
''I won't finish inside you, but tonight you are mine Wylla Manderly. I claim you as the beautiful doe you are this night.'' He says, as he lines his cock up and thrusts into her. Her cry of pain is silenced by his lips as he fully sheathes himself inside her cunt.
He's SOOOO big, she feels herself stretching.
''Take a moment, you dictate the pace.'' He says, giving her a few moments, before rolling onto him, with her on top.
If she was going to dictate anything, she wanted to be on top.
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(POV Shift: Crown Prince Lyonel Baratheon)
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As the first rays of morning whispered their arrival, Lyonel disentangled himself from Wylla Manderly. It might be a fetish, but he found girls shorter or skinnier than him more appealing. He was flawed, why else would he have bedded Wylla Manderly this time? He'd not finished inside her as he'd promised, but she was a delightful fuck, even virginal as she was.
He moved and began dressing himself, he had a small window to get to his own quarters and have a bath drawn. Father doubtless would want to go for a hunt, something he himself did admittedly enjoy.
''Are you really going to treat this like it was nothing?'' Damn, he was hoping to slip away.
''What am I supposed to say? I gave you every opportunity to say no, if you'd said it I'd have respected your choice and left you alone. You chose to continue this.'' He replied.
''Like I'm supposed to turn the Crown Prince down? I had very little choice.'' Wylla bit back.
''And yet I still wouldn't have forced you. Look I can't be caught with you, I am betrothed.'' He said to which she scoffed.
''Didn't stop you from taking my maidenhead.'' She bit back again.
''Yes, well my usual paramour was unavailable, and it's hardly my fault you are so beautiful.'' He muttered quietly.
''You're not leaving until you provide me with a satisfactory response.'' Wylla said strongly.
Why did he have a habit of fucking strong-willed women?
''I don't know what I could say that would be satisfactory right here and now. But, I wouldn't be opposed to it if you returned to King's Landing with us, as a companion and lady-in-waiting of Lady Sansa.'' He said, and she paused at that.
''I'll think about it.'' She says.
''Good, I think we should both take an opportunity to bathe and hide evidence of what happened last night. Good day Lady Wylla.'' He said, departing.
Aurane was waiting for him.
''Not… one… word.'' He says warningly.
Aurane puts his hands up placatingly.
It's a good thing he didn't drink more than one goblet of wine at any feast, he was spared the resulting hangover.
Others… were clearly less fortunate, judging by the way Aurane was walking unsteadily.
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(POV Shift: Lady Arya Stark)
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Arya's stitches were crooked again.
She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. ''Sansa's work is as pretty as she is.'' Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. ''She has such fine, delicate hands.'' When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. ''Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.''
Arya glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read her thoughts, but the septa was paying her no attention today. She was sitting with Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. It was not often that the septa was privileged to instruct a royal princess in the womanly arts, as she had said when the queen brought Myrcella to join them. Arya thought that Myrcella's stitches looked a little crooked too, but you would never know it from the way Septa Mordane was cooing like a simpering fool.
She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear.
''What are you talking about?'' Arya asked suddenly.
Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered.
''Tell me.'' Arya said.
Jeyne glanced over to make certain that Septa Mordane was not listening. Myrcella said something then, and the septa laughed along with the rest of the ladies.
''We were talking about the prince.'' Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.
Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The moderately tall, less handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally. The Crown Prince had the honor of sitting next to his Father.
''Joffrey likes your sister.'' Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. ''He told her she was very beautiful.''
''He's going to marry her.'' Little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. ''Then Sansa will be wife to the heir to the next King of all the realm.''
Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. ''Beth, you shouldn't make up stories.'' Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words. She looked at Arya. ''What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?''
''Jon says he looks like a girl.'' Arya said.
Sansa sighed as she stitched. ''Poor Jon.'' She said. ''He gets jealous because he's a bastard.''
She went to argue and yet someone else beat her to it.
''Apparently the bastard is the smartest person in the castle outside of myself and Uncle Tyrion.'' They turned and were shocked to see the Crown Prince.
''Crown Prince Lyonel.'' Septa Mordane bowed her head. ''May we help you?''
''I'll get to that, good woman, and I apologize to you and everyone else for my coming words in advance. I'm going to tell you plain Sansa Stark. My brother is absolute fucking twat. He gutted a pregnant cat once because he wanted to see the kitten's early. He was five. Myrcella's a little too polite, so she won't tell you the horror stories around our shit-for-brains brother. You will find no happiness with Joffrey, and if by some miracle he can get it up without torturing you half to death first, none off your children will be in the line of succession. Because as soon as I ascend to the Iron Throne, Joffrey will be removed from the Line of Succession. He's stain on Baratheon honor, and if you believe otherwise, your dumber than you seem to be.'' Septa Mordane was positively aghast.
Sansa said nothing.
What could she say honestly, but it seemed the prince wasn't finished.
''Still, I suppose you are perfect for the little shit. After all, you both seem to get sick pleasure bullying your younger sisters. I suppose not even Ned Stark can have a perfect track record raising children the right way. The next time you take pleasure hurting your younger sister, remember this. I have eyes everywhere. You're supposed to be a Stark, so fucking act like it. And as for the rest of you, if you come to court, you'll find out soon enough… how we deal with bullies.''
''Prince Lyonel!'' Septa Mordane finally recovered. ''That was deeply inappropriate.'' She scolded.
''I don't particularly care all that much Septa. Every word I've spoken was the truth. And if you don't believe me, look at Cella's eyes, you can see it. Now then, as for why I'm here, who wants to see Sansa Stark's Shit-for-brains betrothed get his ass handed to him by the future Lord of Winterfell? Anyone who does may follow me, no matter what Septa Mordane says, consider it a royal order if you wish to go and she objects.'' He offered, and Princess Myrcella immediately set her thread and needle down, going to her brother's side. Sansa stayed where she was, she seemed to be terrified or in shock. Arya decided she wanted to see this and joined them, walking out.
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Nymeria was waiting for her in the guardroom at the base of the stairs. She bounded to her feet as soon as she caught sight of Arya. Arya grinned. The wolf pup loved her, even if no one else did. They went everywhere together, and Nymeria slept in her room, at the foot of her bed. If Mother had not forbidden it, Arya would gladly have taken the wolf with her to needlework. Let Septa Mordane complain about her stitches then.
The Crown Prince said nothing, simply smiled enigmatically.
Nymeria nipped eagerly at her hand as Arya untied her. She had yellow eyes. When they caught the sunlight, they gleamed like two golden coins. Arya had named her after the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, who had led her people across the narrow sea. That had been a great scandal too. Sansa, of course, had named her pup "Lady." Arya made a face and hugged the wolfling tight. Nymeria licked her ear, and she giggled.
They arrived, flushed and breathless, to find Jon leaned up against a fence, one hand drawn up languidly to his chin. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of her approach until his white wolf moved to meet them. Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down.
Jon gave her a curious look. ''Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?''
Arya made a face at him. ''I wanted to see them fight, and the Prince did offer.''
''Crown-''
''No, none of that Stark.''
''I'm not-''
''Stark is Stark, bastard or not. Now then, let's enjoy the show.'' She didn't understand him.
Arya stood beside her brother, watching a chorus of thuds and grunts from the yard in front of them.
To her disappointment, it was the younger boys drilling. Bran was so heavily padded he looked as though he had belted on a featherbed, and Prince Tommen, who was plump to begin with, seemed positively round. They were huffing and puffing and hitting at each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of old Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, a great stout keg of a man with magnificent white cheek whiskers. A dozen spectators, man and boy, were calling out encouragement, Robb's voice the loudest among them. She spotted Theon Greyjoy beside him, his black doublet emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House, a look of wry contempt on his face. Both of the combatants were staggering. Arya judged that they had been at it awhile.
''I'll be right back.'' Prince Lyonel muttered, taking his leave and walking over to observe closer.
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(POV Shift: Crown Prince Lyonel Baratheon.
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He would likely get in trouble for his words, but there was little that would be done against him. He hadn't lied, and the sooner Sansa woke up to the reality was his good-for-nothing half-brother, the better. It would make removing Joffrey all the more clean.
As he approached there was a shout from the center of the courtyard below. Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to get up and failing. All the padding made him look like a turtle on its back. Bran was standing over him with an upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him again once he regained his feet. The men began to laugh.
''Enough!'' Ser Rodrik called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him back to his feet. ''Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor.'' He looked around. ''Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?''
Robb, already sweaty from a previous bout, moved forward eagerly. ''Gladly.''
Joffrey moved into the sunlight in response to Rodrik's summons. His hair shone like spun gold. He looked bored. ''This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik.''
Theon Greyjoy gave a sudden bark of laughter. ''You are children.'' He said derisively.
''Robb may be a child.'' Joffrey said. ''I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword.''
''You got more swats than you gave, Joff.'' Robb said. ''Are you afraid?''
Prince Joffrey looked at him. ''Oh, terrified.'' He said. ''You're so much older.'' Some of the Lannister men laughed.
''And you are about as good with a sword as you wiping your arse. Which is to say shit. The servants had to help you till you were seven.'' Lyonel spoke up, and there was a roar of laughter.
''Prince Lyonel.'' Ser Rodrik bowed his head.
''I'll make this very simple for you Joffrey, the next bout is me. I'll take on ten of the North's best, here and now. And when I last longer than five minutes, you have to face me.'' Says Lyonel.
''When you lose, you must use one hand to fight only.'' Joffrey barters.
''Tell you what, I'll fight you unarmed. You can use your little toothpick and I won't use my hands to fight back at all. Unless you think you still won't win?''
''Done!'' Says Joffrey eagerly.
''Then sit your arse down and wait your turn like the bad kitten you are.'' Says Lyonel.
''Why wait!? I'm ready now.'' Joffrey says eagerly.
''Fine, never will turn down putting you in your place.
Ser Rodrik tugged thoughtfully at his white whiskers. ''My prince? Are you sure?''
''This won't take long. Joffrey, you have twenty seconds before I begin to fight back.'' Says Lyonel, as he smirked dangerously, time to put his past lives training to good use.
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Joffrey was battered, bruised, a little bloody, and covered in mud and shit. He audibly counted down the entire time. Sidestepped every swing of Joff's blade, swept his legs out from under him at every slash, and when he reached zero, he finally attacked.
He crane kicked the little shit straight in his face. Not the dramatised version one would see in movies. Before his rebirth, Lyonel had trained extensively in a variety of Martial arts. He'd retained that knowledge here in Planetos. And had put it to good use. Joffrey was still on his back, knocked out cold. The sudden shift from dodge and sidestepping was so sudden, the transition to a strong crane kick to his face was so quick that if you had the misfortune of blinking you'd have missed it.
''Someone empty a bucket of piss on him. Wake his ass up and send him to the Maester.'' Lyonel instructed, walking away.
He'd hated his grandfather for forcing him to practice a large number of martial arts last life around, but it'd paid off. There were benefits to being able to perfectly recall his past life and having an eidetic memory back then. He remembered everything he'd learned studying Judo, BJJ, Karate, Taekwondo, Aikido, Krav Maga, Shaolin Kung Fu, Muay Thai, and others. Because of his OCD it made him work harder, and his perfect recall ability ensured he remembered every imperfection.
Although he no longer felt the obsessive compulsion, he did remember everything, and that had allowed him to fashion the Antlers and Claws into the strongest and most lethal army in westeros. His military training from his last life most likely also helped in that regard.
''My prince, might I have a word?'' Robb Stark asked.
''Naturally.'' He replied.
''I'm told you spoke harshly to my sister Sansa.'' Says Robb Stark, measuring his words to not sound disrespectful, but also to convey his… whatever his feeling.
''Harshly, yes. But I never lied. There is a guild of sorts in King's Landing. They call themselves Hidden Ones. They have on occasion provided services to the Small Council, however they enforce what the City Watch cannot or will not. They sprung up first in Lannisport, then King's Landing. And they take a dim view of what I'm told your sister Sansa has been doing to your bastard brother and younger sister. Let's just say if anyone is court bullying someone, they tend to end up with a nasty firsthand look on where your refuse goes in the privy. Joffrey would know all about it. I'll see you on the hunt Lord Stark.'' he said, walking towards the direction of where his rooms are.
As he turns the corner and enters the broken tower sneakily, he's met by a man in a hooded white robe.
''Mentor.'' The man bowed his head.
''Report.'' Lyonel instructed.
''It is as you feared, the web is large and complex. We know the man is guilty, but thus far he's only guilty of poor record keeping. The Cat's ask you let the wolves intervene.'' The man said.
''No, not yet. Our brothers and sisters within the wolves may need to intervene in the end, but until I'm back at court, we must wait and see what this new hand of the King my father has chosen does. He likely can be trusted, but always better to verify. There is one matter I would like you to take forth to the council. Instruct them to spread to the free cities, plant eyes and ears in Pentos and Braavos. Do not run afoul of the faceless men, for the moment grow the numbers, and protect the people from injustice.'' He instructed.
''And House Targaryen?'' Lyonel went silent.
''Place someone close to them, we need a more reliable set of eyes on them. Mission is to get close to Daenerys and protect her. If the dreams are right, she's crucial in the coming conflicts.'' He said at last,
''Yes, mentor.'' Said the man.
''And Altair? Place a bureau in Dorne, we've a few orphans in our brotherhood, make use of that.'' He adds, turning to leave.
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(Author's Note:)
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Holy Shit! Four chapters for this fic written in one day! I think I'm done for the day, got some hours to log for Football Manager so I'm gonna get to that. Next chapter will see Lyonel's betrothed debut as well as the story debuts of Brynden Tully, Lyn Corbray and Loras Tyrell, which naturally means that Renly debuts as well. We'll also see bits of the hunt in the next chapter as well.
I'm also going to also be looking forward to future installments containing Wylla Manderly, I had to delete a bunch of her lines because it ended up counting to just over twelve hundred words for her scene alone. Also apologies for glossing over certain parts of the feast and the lemon between Wylla and Lyonel, I am more than a little rusty with Lemons and again Wylla's scene quickly became the biggest in the chapter so I had to cut it down a lot. Anyway, I'm hoping to get some more work done later tomorrow. Till then, enjoy the chapters.
Completed 06/02/2025, edited on 22/02/2025.
Addendum: As I edit this story, I realize that aside from missing out on Daenerys initially and having to go back and redo some of these chapters, that I also missed other opportunities. This story is evolving fast, and the introduction of my own little Assassin's brotherhood is going to be a fun addition. We'll see how much it makes the endgame more fun and exciting to read and bear witness to.
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Thanks to Mitchell Howard, David Martinez, ROGUE505 Saver, Mathew T Linderman, Luck George, Kyle Diano, Julien, Morgan Sinn, Tom A, and Luis for their support on P-atreon.
And also a big thank you to Cody, Luci Alarra, TJ Cruz, Kunta, Availon90, Gavin Barclay, Dragonslayer29, Jacarya Robinson, Nathan Just, Francisco J Guzman, Axlii, Reece Hutton, Ken Harris, Zeldris Wrath, Duy, lonelynib _, Austin, D3EATH707, Dwhateverprof, Cutler1812, Aleksander_402, Lewis Wilson, Profound Magician, Arzard, HxC 740 VxD, Attila Kovács, Ruby Uzumaki, Mudit Chadha, Beastmode2003, Maciek, and Joao Goncalves for their past support on Patreon.
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