10

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 10

*** Robb- Riverrun ***

The plan to humble the Targaryen Prince was not going well. Hearing Smalljon Umber being violently unhorsed by Arthur Pendragon caused the men to wince with sympathy while the great ladies gasped at the brutality.

Clad in black armor and the blue tabard of his new house, Arthur Pendragon raised his fist, victorious. He had tied Sansa's favor around his wrist, Princess Mordred's underneath that, and perhaps most surprisingly, Arya's on the same arm.

"Arthur won!" Arya cheered loudly from her spot in the stands. Bran, Robb own brother, was also looking at the Targaryen with admiration

Robb didn't care who he claimed to be, now - the man would forever be a Targaryen to him. He could see his lady mother was very dissatisfied while his father just shook his head. Robb's eyes trailed over to the royal stand to see the beautiful princess, Mordred, wearing a supremely pleased yet gentle expression that made her even more desirable.

Sansa, however, looked at Smalljon in sympathy; she probably didn't realize that such sentiments from her would only wound Smalljon's pride.

The objective had been simple: the young lords of Riverrun and Winterfell decided to hold an impromptu jousting tourney the day before his sister's wedding. The men of the North never forgave the Targaryen for stealing away his Aunt, while the men of Riverrun thought that his sister being the third wife, after Arthur's own sister and Mordred, was a travesty.

Though they had grudgingly accepted the betrothal, they didn't have to respect the dragon. They would make light sport and humiliate him in front of all the noble guests. Though he might have taken two of the great beauties of the kingdom, he would do so only after being hazed by the Northmen and the young men who had failed to win the princess

Of course, Robb was beginning to see that the dragon was not one to be trifled with lightly. All of their best jousters were defeated with brutal efficiency and he now found himself the last contestant as he rode out to meet Arthur.

"Lord Robb of House Stark!" the Crier announced as trumpets blared and Robb made his entrance. The men of Riverrun and Winterfell roared loudly, banging on the stands and stomping their feet.

"And still in the field, the reigning victor, is Arthur Pendragon!" the Crier shouted, this time to the polite clapping of the ladies, nobles and smallfolk alike. Many of the men grumbled at their womenfolk, no doubt because the dragon bastard was pretty to look at as well.

"Kick Robb's arse, Arthur!" Arya cheered happily as she mischievously met Robb's eyes.

Robb had to admit he was a bit hurt that his sister would root against him, but then, Sansa had not been pleased when they asked this of King Robert. Princess Mordred had been indifferent while Queen Cersei had merely raised an eyebrow. Their father however, had been livid at the young men's foolishness and thought he was trying to spoil his sister's wedding.

But could his father truly blame them? When news had come of the events in King's Landing at the tourney, the entire North had been up in arms. Sansa was to be a Targaryen's third wife – the Treasure of the North, a third wife. It was offensive to all of their bannermen, and to none more so than Lady Stark herself.

The crux of the matter was, though, that the Royal family was willing to engage their daughter, the firstborn, the Jewel of the Kingdom, to the Targaryen. If House Stark pulled the engagement, it would be understandable, but it could be easily misconstrued that the Northerners felt themselves more important than the Royal family.

Had it been with any lesser nobles, breaking the betrothal would not have been a problem; the fact that they had given Sansa to House Baratheon, however, made it all the more politically suicidal to back out. Robb knew that his father cared little for politics, but his mother, raised in the south, understood the implications. She had no choice but to honor the agreement, even if she could demand reparations - the last of which meant that Joffrey would not attend the wedding.

His mother had guessed correctly that in the heat of the moment, the men of the North, including Robb, might have attacked the Crown Prince for treating Sansa so dishonorably.

Still, the North never forgets, and the Rivermen forever preached about family. They had agreed to help set the trap for the dragon - except the whole plan had gone pear-shaped. The dragon was simply too strong.

"Lord Robb," Arthur's dipped his head slightly in respect, as he rode pass Robb to his end.

"Lord Arthur," Robb returned the gesture coldly as he closed his visor and leveled his lance.

On their own signal, Robb spurred his steed into action, leveling out his lance to prepare for their clash. Arthur, his own lance leveled, was closing in alarmingly fast. Kicking his horse's flank once more, Robb looked for the best opportunity to strike the dragon as his mount started its dead run.

It was at the last second, that he shifted his lance, tilted his head upward, and let the Old Gods decide the victor.

++++ River Keep+++

When Robb came to, he heard the sound of his mother talking with Sansa. Arya could be heard conversing excitedly along with Bran.

"Ugh... my head," he groaned, silencing the room.

"You are lucky that Lord Pendragon went easy on you," his father, who had apparently kept so deathly quiet that Robb hadn't sensed him in the room, spoke up.

"That was easy? He could have killed Robb!" his mother hissed in contempt, but his father and sisters simply nodded.

"He defeated Robb in the most efficient manner," his father explained. "I have seen him in action at my own tourney. He could have broken his lance on any of the vulnerable areas, potentially dealing fatal injuries, but he chose the boy's stomach to unhorse him quickly."

"And why is that generous?" his mother asked skeptically. However, Robb knew the answer.

"It's because when he aimed for my stomach, he left his head vulnerable; in fact, I capitalized on that opening," Robb explained to his mother who took in this information with thinned lips. After a moment of silence, she stood and looked at her husband.

"I shall double check the decorations in the main hall," Catelyn Stark announced before frowning at Sansa. "Bea wanted to know if she could decorate your lemon cake to make it more festive."

'Ah, that's right; Sansa made her own wedding cake. Lemon flavored, of course.'

"NO!" Sansa's eyes widened as they spun toward their mother. "Tell that woman that she is not to touch it, or so help me. . ."

Robb and the rest of his family simply grinned at her vehemence. Sansa had very few vices, if any at all. Her need to save and help everyone in trouble was a stupid trait, but not a vice. Lemon cakes, however. . . Well, lemon cakes were something she would blissfully eat, consequences be damned. He remembered being the one to introduce her to the treat - she must have been five at the time. Before that, their baker had died, and it took a while to find someone who could make sweets again.

He remembered her expression as she took her first bite of the treat. His somber, docile little sister's eyes had widened with abject surprise before she ate his entire slice. It wasn't until Sansa had finished that she realized he was looking at her and had seen her behavior. She ran off, face flushed, but the secret was out.

Jon, their brother, had come up with the great idea to get her a whole lemon cake for her nameday. Their lady mother had not been pleased that Jon suggested it, but she had grudgingly agreed. When Sansa's sixth nameday arrived, Jon and Robb surprised her with the cake.

For the first time their family could recall, the girl's eyes lit up like a girl her own age; none of the somber attitude that usually accompanied her could be found. Their father, from then on, had brought her different sweets to see if they elicited the same reaction, but none had ever come close.

Shortly thereafter, Sansa claimed the kitchen, much to the chef's ire, but now. . . Well, it worked out for everyone.

Sansa, having recovered from her outburst, blushed and left; nobody commented on the fact that she was heading toward the kitchen. Their lady mother followed a moment later with Arya in tow. Robb knew she hoped that Sansa's abilities would rub off on Arya, but she simply didn't have the talent - at least, not as much as Sansa.

This left the men of House Stark in one room. Bran, who had taken the seat beside him, smiled brightly. He'd found, soon after Arthur's arrival, that Bran would be Arthur's squire. Their father had told him to keep quiet in order to surprise his brother.

"I'm sorry we did not have much chance to talk," their father spoke up after a period of silence. "How have things truly been in my absence?"

"It's been going well, Father," Robb replied, taking on the lordly demeanor he had grown used to using at Winterfell. "Rickon has grown another head, if you can believe it; Uncle Benjen said so. I haven't seen it myself, though. Bran here didn't seem to grow at all from the last time I saw him."

Bran turned to him, offended, but their father merely chuckled. "Gods, do I miss Winterfell,"

"And Winterfell misses its lord, as does its people," Robb comforted, though his father waved it away.

"I did not want to ask in front of your mother, but..."

"Jon's doing fine, father." Robb nodded knowingly and his father gratefully smiled in return. Jon was a difficult subject between his parents. He understood his mother's hatred, and he should feel the same way, but he couldn't. Jon couldn't help being who he was, and he was very kind by nature. He knew Sansa loved Jon fiercely, due in part to their mother's treatment of him. It was one of the few times he had ever seen the mother and daughter pair at odds. "Uncle Benjen said that he has the making of an excellent Ranger."

Ned remained quiet for a while, and let out a sigh. "If only the boy had waited but a few more months. . . You know that Sansa had asked if it was too late for him to be part of her honor guard?"

Robb blinked with surprise as he did not know that, but he had to smile. Sansa was offering the one thing Jon craved: a place to belong to, perhaps even a chance of having a family of his own. But it was too late, now; his brother had foolishly taken the Black, and though Jon denied it, they both knew that it was because of his mother.

"Jon. . . Has always been hot-headed, despite his quiet nature," Robb said and looked at his father. "However, even though he's taken the Black, he will always be a Stark wolf."

"Aye, that he will," their father agreed, nodding his head. A moment later, his demeanor shifted slightly, alerting Robb to the change in subject. "I have been getting sporadic reports about more Wildling incursions south of the Wall. There are rumors about a new King Beyond the Wall according to the missive I received from Lord Commander Jeor. Has it been that bad?"

"Queen," Robb corrected, and his father blinked in surprise. "Uncle Benjen said the Wildlings are following a warrior Queen, but Lord Commander Mormont dismissed it. As for the incursion, it's very small - nothing we can't handle."

"A Queen, truly?" his father pondered as Robb merely confirmed what Uncle Benjen told him. "Never before in our history has there ever been a Queen Beyond the Wall... what could this mean?"

Robb looked his father straight in the eye. "What else could it mean, Father?"

He saw his father's face turn grave and nodded. "Aye, Winter is Coming."

+++ Sansa+++

Sansa Stark, known as Shirou Emiya in another lifetime, was looking at her groom. He was dancing with noble ladies lining up, eager for their chance to create a scandal. The two had only danced once before Sansa begged off, her thoughts on other urgent matters. Fortunately, her. . . husband had understood and mingled for the both of them. Her gaze moved to Mordred, who was near her table and chatting up Robb. He appeared flustered from the princess's attention; obviously, he had not gotten over his little crush.

'Was I ever like that?'

"The food is not to your liking?" Catelyn Stark frowned as Sansa stared at her plate.

"No, the food is acceptable, it's just...," Sansa began hesitantly while looking at her mother who returned it with a gentle look. Lady Stark appeared to understand what was bothering her.

"You're worried about your bedding," she guessed. Sansa nodded in response to her concerns.

"Don't be, things will happen the way they're supposed to; every maiden is nervous her first time."

Catelyn walked over to Sansa and began to straighten her dress a bit more; it was in the Stark's colors, rather than white as Mordred's had been. What Mordred had done was considered highly improper, but leniency was given as she was the Princess.

Her mother had been determined to have the wedding go off perfectly. It had - the ceremony, the seating arrangements, even being cloaked in Pendragon blue now - had gone perfectly. It seemed very important to her mother for it to happen. On some level, she understood, but she had to admit that her mother was a snob - it was how she had been raised.

For Sansa, the first daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, to be wed as a third wife with two senior wives was an insult. The Stark-ruled realm was as big as the other Six Kingdoms, and yet she was third to wed the formerly exiled prince, who she was convinced might actually be that Arturia whom the other Shirou spoke of, when she visited him in her Reality Marble.

The Pendragon name gave it away, but what was odd was Mordred. She could not tell if the girl was the Mordred of her old world, or a completely separate existence. The coincidence was too glaring, but did this mean that father married son - or mother married daughter? - if Mordred really was from Camelot. Still, there was evidence that spoke against the possibility.

Firstly, her previous existence as Shirou was male, and she was reborn female. Arturia, though a King, was female, and reborn male. The other Shirou had consulted with Arturia and confirmed that her Mordred was female, which meant that Mordred should have been born a male. Additionally, Arthur was born Viserys Targaryen, and she was born, Sansa Stark - though Mordred was born a Baratheon, she should have been given a different name to follow the pattern. Where magic - powerful magic, at that - was concerned, there should have been a common trend. All this reincarnation business seemed to have been about powerful magic, but she was still no closer to figuring out exactly why everything was as it was.

Why had she and Arturia been reincarnated? According to both Archer and Shirou, King Arthur's sheath, Avalon, was possibly inside of her. The only way she could actually find out was if she was exposed to Arthur for a prolonged period of time.

'Or you can just let him 'sheath' himself inside of you and find out that way.'

Sansa could have done without Archer's crude mocking. Thinking of Archer's words and what was to happen this night, she blushed.

'That unhelpful asshole.'

Had she been completely Shirou from her past life, she would never have been comfortable enough to go through with this wedding, but she had been raised as Sansa Stark. She realized that perhaps she had taken over the mind of the girl inside of her body, like a parasite. Archer had assured her that this probably wasn't the case, that Sansa was a blank vessel, but if Shirou had not been given Sansa's form, what would she have been like? Would she have been a good cook? skilled in archery? liked lemon cakes? These things caused her to keep her family at arms' length for the early part of her life - they loved Sansa, not her.

Eventually, she realized her family loved her for her, despite her quirks. She was fortunate to have been born into such a loving family. So Sansa had reached an accord with the Shirou part of her. She would continue to do whatever she wanted with Shirou's abilities, but she would live the life that was originally only Sansa's to the fullest. If that meant learning how to knit, partaking in the Faith of the Seven, studying about nobility, or even getting married and birthing children, then so be it.

She owed it to the girl she could have been, and the family she now had.

Still, Sansa had been a boy and learned Sex Ed as a boy. She didn't know much about sex as a girl; her mother gave her the sanitized version when she was younger, of course, but what did having a girl's body entail on her wedding night? Was she supposed to lay there and let Arthur do all the work? She found asking Mordred had not been helpful, as the girl merely blushed and stammered before changing the subject.

The only thing anyone was sure of was that Mordred had been "eaten" by the dragon, as Margery had teased. The Tyrell girl actually congratulated both her and Mordred on finding such a husband that would do that for his lady wife. Margery, apparently a lot more experienced than she let on, explained how most noblemen only knew one way of love making. Still, if Arthur was willing to do that, then their bedroom lives would not be boring at all, and they should count themselves blessed.

While Sansa had been more than prepared for sex the proper way, the thought of having Arthur between her legs and licking her there brought another bout of blushing to her face. Still, if it pleased him, she would endure it. After all, the Shirou in her meetings had no qualms about "eating a dragon" as Archer crudely pointed out. She and Shirou had blushed, but when she looked to Shirou for confirmation, he merely nodded.

Of course, Archer went on about stupid karma again, and she was beginning to think that the asshole was right. Still, if the other Shirou was willing to pleasure his Arturia in that manner, then she really could not do less than be on the receiving end of Arthur's ministrations.

"It's not too late for me to stop the traditional Bedding, if you want," Catelyn suddenly spoke, taking her out of her musing.

Sansa simply shook her head. "No, it's fine; Princess Mordred was able to go through with it, so I can do no less. Besides, didn't you also endure it at your wedding to father?"

Her mother frowned a bit, but nodded her head. The Bedding Ceremony was an ancient tradition simply to grope the bride before the groom.

"Well, you'd best prepare yourself; it's going to happen soon," her mother warned before she lightly brushed a lock of her red hair back in place.

"You didn't raise me to be weak now, did you, mother?" Sansa's teasing elicited a smile from her mother.

"No, I did not, sweetling," Catelyn murmured, but her eyes spoke of the pride she had in her daughter. "I raised you to be Queen."

Sansa shook her head to stop her mother's line of thought. What was done was done. Besides, she had always felt that Joffrey was a bit off; between him and Arthur, she'd choose Arthur every time. She could not help but be grateful that he'd wagered their engagement, and pity Margery for her upcoming engagement to Joffrey, which would of course be announced after her wedding. Her father had ensured that the King would not try to force another union between Stark and Baratheon, really one between Arya and Joffrey. Their personalities made it easy to judge that they'd get along about as well as oil and water.

"It's time for the Bedding!" Smalljon Umber loudly slurred. Of course, once the call was started, the other young lords took it up as they rose from their seats and stalked toward her.

Recalling Mordred's dignified stance, drunk though she was when it happened to her, Sansa stood proudly. She saw Robb, Bran, and her father moving in to attempt to defend her honor. The King had remained seated with the Queen - a surprise, really, as she had always heard the King loved the Bedding ceremony and had always been the first to call for it. Her eyes caught Mordred's, and Mordred only dipped her head slightly and mouthed, "Good luck!" before she sat back down and chatted with her Uncle Tyrion.

Smalljon, her most persistent suitor, was the first to reach her and lifted her up high before tossing her to the crowd of men. Lord Bolton's son were the first to rip her bodice off of her as they carried her to the chamber. Looking around even as large hands groped her backside and budding breasts, she saw Arthur surrounded by noble ladies whose lecherous looks mirrored those of the men.

Sansa realized that the men's strength allowed them to reach the chamber relatively quickly, even as she found herself clad only in panties. She felt a rough hand tugging at it before Robb's fist smashed into the offender's mouth. A second later, she found herself pulled into a protective embrace and a large blue-grey cloak covered her. She knew who it was immediately.

"Father," she murmured softly.

"Alright, you lot, you've had your fun, now off you go!" Robb chastised the young men, some older than him, causing them to grumble and leave.

"I am proud of you, Sansa," her father whispered into her ears as he hugged her and Robb opened the door to the chamber.

"After you, my lady." Robb bowed with a flourish, making her smile. Just as she passed the threshold, however, he put a hand on her shoulder. "If he forces you to do something you don't want, scream, and I will come for you. I promise."

Sansa had to grin at that. "You forget yourself sir, you are my sidekicks while I am the Hero."

Robb rolled his eyes at her. She had told her brothers about her dream to be a hero of justice, back when she was younger and unaware of how this world worked. To Robb's and Jon's credit, however, they decided to help her in her endeavor until Father put a stop to it.

"So? Even heroes need saving from time to time." Robb winked, before he pushed her through the door and shut it.

And just like that, she found herself alone in the Bedding chamber. She could hear the ladies' giggles growing closer by the second. The chamber was large and spacious, no doubt one of the largest bedrooms in Riverrun's keep. There were plenty of candles lit, and another piece of her lemon cake and some red wine sat on the table. Her mother must have had the cake brought up for her comfort.

Sansa brought her attention to the bed and found it a good deal larger than the one she owned at Red Keep. Certainly, more than two people could lay on this bed. Still, this was the bed where she and Arthur would. . would...

She blushed hotly, knowing full well Arthur's preferences in advance. To prepare, she had made sure to scrub herself cleaner than ever before, especially down there, as Archer had said nothing was more embarrassing than finding it odious, like a fish. The other Shirou had nodded his head in agreement - if the two agreed on something, it was definitely serious, so she had bathed herself in scented water until she was immaculate.

The door to the camber opened suddenly, and someone shoved a very naked Arthur, who was trying to maintain his modesty, inside. Sansa saw Dacey Mormont's hand snake out and smack her husband's hard bottom, eliciting delighted squeals from the ladies in the hall before the door closed.

There was a moment of silence as Arthur, who appeared to be adorably flustered, looked back at the door before his attention turned to her. She suddenly found her breath caught in her throat as she realized that she was about to be bedded.

"L-Lord Husband," Sansa murmured demurely, thinking of what was to come.

"Lady Wife," Arthur replied in a confident tone, and his gaze softened upon seeing her. He said nothing as he looked at her, and she realized that her father's cloak was still covering her.

Slowly, Sansa shrugged the cloak off her shoulders and exposed herself fully to her husband.

"Do-does it please you, My Lord?" she recited the exact words her mother taught her.

"Yes." Arthur nodded gently before he removed his hand from his groin. The moment he did so, her eyes widened with genuine surprise and envy. While she was no slacker as Shirou, Arthur's package was too unfair! She now knew why Mordred had assumed Arthur would kill her on her wedding night.

When she told that story to Archer and Shirou, they had theorized that Mordred, if she really was Camelot's Mordred, was referring to Rhongoyniad, the spear that took her life. They were wrong. They were so completely wrong! Clearly, Mordred was referring to this. . . monster.

'And it's not even hard yet... oh my gods, he's going to kill me...'

Arthur's expression softened - apparently, he sensed her unease. "My lady, you are young still; if you do not wish to, I would not be displeased or offended."

Sansa looked from Arthur's "spear" to his face, and was surprised by his generous offer. Judging from his expression, he was completely fine with not bedding her. But she remembered brave Mordred, who had to face the dragon down by herself. While Sansa might have been younger in body, she felt that she was mentally older than Mordred. As such, despite their ages, she considered Mordred her younger sister, and if her younger sister could have bedded the dragon on their wedding night... she could do no less.

"No," Sansa said firmly as she walked toward him and looked into his eyes. "I... I am ready, just... Please be gentle. I'm..."

As though understanding her plight, Arthur nodded and led her to their bed. Her heart was hammering in her chest a mile a minute, threatening to burst free of her ribcage. Was he going to put that in her or use his mouth on her, first?

"You can still back out, My Lady; I swear on my honor, I'll not think ill of you for it," Arthur offered again, apparently having seen the doubt on her face.

"No, Mordred did it; I can, too," Sansa replied firmly, and saw Arthur's expression twist into something unreadable at the mention of Mordred. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He nodded once and stroke her cheeks softly.

Slowly, he lowered his lips and captured hers. Immediately, a wave of pleasure ran through her body, followed by a burst of golden light that made her body burn hotter. She felt faint and found herself falling backward onto the bed, her vision of Arthur getting hazy until she was surrounded by darkness, the only light was emanating from her. It was a golden glorious light that absolutely enthralled her that was until what happened next.

Suddenly Sansa found herself falling through some sort of dark tunnel - which thankfully had a light at the end. Was this a dream? What happened to Arthur? What was going on?

She received an answer to her questions moments later, when she passed through the light and found herself in free fall over an ocean of lava. Dark clouds and red light permeated the cavern.

'What's going on...?'

RAWRRRRRRR!

'What the hell was that?!' Sansa thought as she turned her head toward the sound. There, bathing in the sea of lava, was an honest-to-gods behemoth of a dragon.

+++ Cersei +++

Cersei held her head high as she watched her daughter bend down to one knee to hug the disgusting little Imp. What the girl saw in the disgusting half man, she'd never know, but judging by the way she was laughing, he had probably told her a bawdy joke. Not far off were Robert, Tommen, Myrcella, and others in line to bid Mordred farewell. After all, she was to leave for Harrenhal with her husband today.

Thoughts of the last Targaryen heir caused her eyes to dart over to the caravan where the Stark girl and her family were talking earnestly. Hugs so sweet they made Cersei's teeth ache were being exchanged. It wasn't as though the Stark girl would be alone. She was bringing her little sister and younger brother with her. Apparently, Lord Stark felt that since the majority of the girl's family would be at Harrenhal, she could spend time with her sister for a while longer. In a protective circle around them were the men of Blackhaven - they would be responsible for escorting the entire Pendragon party to its new home. Mordred's honor guard should already be there to secure the new land holdings. Lord Arthur was speaking with Beric and his lady wife, Allyria Dayne, a little off to the side of the party.

"Enjoy your new position as Master of Coin, Uncle."

Mordred's voice brought Cersei's attention to the odd looking pair, a true case of beauty and the beast if she'd ever seen it. She had to curl her lips a bit; at Mordred's insistence, the new Master of Coin was now her half-man of a brother. A better position than he deserved. Now, all they needed to do was find a new Master of Whisperers, since Varys had taken all of his belongings and left King's Landing in the dead of night, according to her spies.

What could have ever possessed the eunuch to leave? It had even taken Robert by surprise; the fat, perfumed man had served the royal family for as long as anyone could remember, and just like that, he left. That was the reason that the Royal party would not be leaving Riverrun with the Pendragon party. Robert and Lord Stark were trying to convince Brynden Tully to become the new Master of Whisperers. However, as the Blackfish stayed trued to his name and refused the position, Robert decided to stay and badger him into accepting.

Stepping past her children, Cersei glared at the dwarf to make him leave. The less the dwarf touched her daughter, the better.

"Lovely sister," Tyrion greeted with a bow, before turning to squeeze Mordred's arm. "Good luck, niece."

"Remember, Uncle, your job is to earn the Kingdom some coin, not spend it in the brothels," Mordred japed before she stood to face Cersei.

Looking at her daughter, Cersei noticed that the girl had completely adopted the new colors of her house. Even as Queen, Cersei still held onto her Lannister pride and wore red the majority of the time. Yet on Mordred, there was not a single stitch of gold or red to be seen. Instead, she wore a pretty blue and white dress. Loathe though she was to admit it, it suited her daughter more than gold or red would have.

"Do you need anything else sent to you?" Cersei asked softly.

Mordred startled before gracing her with a soft smile. "I believe that's everything; you did remember to have Arthur's money sent to Harrenhal, right?"

Cersei almost rolled her eyes. She was a Lannister, first and foremost, and a Lannister always paid their debts. "As if you have to ask, but you won't be getting 400,000 dragons.

Mordred bristled, probably thinking that she'd backed out on her word, before she continued, anticipating Mordred's reaction.

"You will be getting a million."

Cersei enjoyed Mordred's confused look; Mordred was now staring at her suspiciously, as if believing her own mother would plot against her.

"How? You only promised Arthur four hundred thousand."

Now smirking widely, she locked eyes with Mordred. "The other six hundred thousand dragons are a wedding gift from your grandfather."

Enjoying the wide-eyed, stupefied look on her daughter's face, Cersei mused on her father's gift to her daughter. Truth be told, Cersei herself was surprised when she received the missive. She thought the two loathed each other; the only collaboration she was aware of was that they worked together to get rid of Robert's bastards. Odd though it was, her father respected strength, and the Seven knew Mordred had strength in abundance.

Mordred slowly gathered herself and looked at her. "W-why would he do that?! We've never gotten along!"

"Believe it or not," Cersei began in an amused tone, "I think he likes you."

Reaching out, she pushed her daughter's jaw back in place; gaping was unseemly.

"Do be sure to send him a 'thank you' letter; after all, it's a very generous gift."

Before Mordred could respond, Cersei embraced her daughter fiercely. Sinking her head into her daughters shoulders, she softly whispered, "Know that I will always love you, sweetling, and will miss you around the Red Keep. You are a woman now, a Lannister; never forget that."

She felt Mordred stiffen up at first, but the girl gradually softened and returned her hug. "Believe it or not, I will miss you too, mother; I know we haven't gotten along as we should, but I do. . . love you."

Cersei felt her eyes water; her daughter, who had always been ambiguous about her affection, had let her know exactly where she stood. It warmed her heart, as she too had craved Mordred's, her first born's, love. Suppressing a sniffle, she broke away from her daughter just in time for Tommen and Myrcella to run toward their sister.

"Mordred!" the two younger siblings shouted as they tackled the girl, making all three siblings stumble. Some of the attending nobles looked scandalized, but the children didn't care.

"Can I come with you? Please?" Tommen begged his sister, eyes watery. "You promised you'd teach me how to fight!"

Mordred ruffled her little brother's head. "When you are of age, you'll be my squire; how's that?"

Tommen's chubby cheeks puffed out. "I can't be your squire, you're the Princess!"

"So?" Mordred tease before Tommen buried his head into her chest, wailing about her unfairness.

"I will miss you, sister; the keep will be lonely without you," Myrcella commented sadly. Her eyes were still watery, but she maintained her dignified posture. Good, she remembered Cersei's lessons.

"Well, I'm not too far." Mordred smiled at her younger sister. "You can still come visit if you ever learn how to properly ride a horse."

"Mordred!" Myrcella whined; she wasn't able to ride a horse like Mordred. Suddenly, the younger blonde beauty fell onto her sister and hugged her tightly.

Mordred closed her eyes and enjoyed her siblings' warmth. "If Joffrey steps out of line, write to me; I'll ride back and teach him the true meaning of fear."

'Like I'd let you!' Cersei fumed. Though it was unbecoming of her, she favored Joffrey over Mordred because he was her firstborn son. To her relief, Mordred didn't care about her favoritism, but she also didn't care about ensuring Joffrey's welfare.

Myrcella sighed softy in Mordred's embrace. "I think out of all of us, he'll miss you most of all."

A little too much, in Cersei's opinion, but then it had finally dawned on her at the tourney that Joffrey loved his sister in much the same way she and Jaime loved each other. It took Robert of all people to point it out to her.

"Well, I think you're getting a new sister, soon; Margery is very nice," Mordred assured her sister.

The mention of Margery Tyrell made Cersei frown. The girl was too cunning by half, and she was almost certain that the Tyrells would make a power play. On the other hand, she could not help but think that the Tyrell was the best match in terms of wealth and manpower.

"Alright, you two, my turn!" Robert's loud voice startled both of his youngest children as the two immediately scrambled away from their sister.

Before Mordred could defend herself, she found she was already lifted and being hugged tightly by Robert. While the man had never truly acted like a father to her other children, what Mordred had with him was more than she could have asked for. The man gave her daughter Harrenhal. Strips of lands and titles were expected, but Harrenhal itself?

Despite herself, Cersei felt a growing affection for the fat oaf.

"I'll truly miss you, you ungrateful brat," Robert whispered with genuine affection as he squeezed the smaller blonde.

"Well, try not to drink yourself into an early grave, and for the Sevens' sake, stop hunting without a larger entourage!" Mordred chided the larger man, who only rolled his eyes. She suddenly looked down, not meeting Robert's gaze. "I won't be there to take care of you anymore, you know. . ."

"Hah! Take care? Is that what you called it?" Robert laughed at her before falling silent at her glare. "A-aye. . . despite your faults, and the Seven know there are many, fare too many - like, a lot! I mean, a really large-"

"Get to the point!" Mordred shouted with agitation.

"Right - er, I'll try to survive long enough to see my first grandchild birthed; after that, I make no promises!" Robert declared magnanimously.

Cersei had to grin at Mordred's flummoxed look. Oh, that was too rich! The girl hadn't even thought about children, yet. What else did she think Arthur bedded her for? Though, thoughts of bedding made her look at the Stark girl with sympathy. She happened to overhear a few snippets of Mordred's conversation with the girl the day after the wedding.

'So did he eat you too?'

'Y-yes, but not before it tore my- wait someone's listening.'

The girl's instincts were good, but it had been a Northern girl, Alys Karstark, who was spotted rather than Cersei. By the next day, everyone knew of Arthur's deed; some ladies found it scandalous, while others found it exciting. Cersei herself was part of the latter group, but the Sansa girl now had a permanent blush due to the rumor. The "Devouring Dragon" was Arthur's little nickname, much to Lady Catelyn's and Lord Stark's displeasure.

As if sensing her thoughts, Arthur approached her daughter and nudged her elbow slightly.

"Wife, we are ready to depart when you are," Arthur suddenly spoke from behind Mordred, making her jump. Upon seeing him, Robert's promise came to mind, causing her to blush.

"I will be but a moment," Mordred replied with a blush. Cersei was amazed that the girl no longer stuttered while talking to her husband, though.

Arthur simply nodded before putting his hand on her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

"Hah, still blushing! It looks disgusting on your face!" Robert needled and stood firm against Mordred's glare. Unlike previous confrontations, however, Mordred softened as her eyes passed over her family members one last time, before turning back to Robert.

"I'll miss you," Mordred spoke with heartfelt conviction. Robert's expression softened at her tone, but the girl was not finished. "All of you: Mother, Myrcella, and Tommen. Hell, I'll even miss Joffrey."

Cersei found herself touched once more by her daughter's tone, but their immediate laughter at Joffrey's name hardened her heart once more.

"Will you grant me a favor before I leave, father?"

Cersei and Robert blinked. Mordred rarely asked for favors, only ever gambling against Robert, so it was a bit suspicious.

"What do you want?" Robert asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing a bit at her.

Mordred suddenly smiled. "I don't think it's fair that Sansa's the only one that can bring family with her. I don't want to be the lone Stag among Wolves and Dragons. . ."

Clever girl, playing up House Baratheon and not House Lannister.

"What? You want Renly or Stannis to come live with you?" Robert snorted, and Mordred shard his amusement.

Cersei, however, stood closer to Tommen and Myrcella, glaring at the girl. She'd never allow Mordred to take any of her siblings with her. They were her children, even if the two looked excited at the prospect.

Feeding her ever-growing suspicion, Mordred simply smiled benignly at her.

"I know Tommen and Myrcella cannot come with me," Mordred reasoned regretfully, forcing crestfallen looks upon her siblings. That made Cersei felt a bit relieved, until she heard Mordred's next words.

"I think I would need a big, strong Lion to protect me from the Wolves."

Cersei's heart suddenly contracted as her eyes bored into her unfazed daughter. Her eyes had been on her father the entire time.

'She wouldn't fucking dare!'

"So if you don't mind, could I borrow Uncle Jaime until I get Harrenhal in order?"

"No! She can't! Tell her Robert!'

"And how long would that take?" Robert asked suddenly, his face skeptical. For once, Cersei felt immense gratitude toward the man. Good; he sensed the girl's deception, too.

"Oh, perhaps five, ten years?" Mordred gave an estimate with a shrug of her shoulders.

'Hah! Robert would never allow that, you foolish girl!'

"Selmy, can we afford to part with the Kingslayer for so long?" Robert asked the Commander of the Kingsguard. He was still doubtful about the prospect.

Cersei turned her attention to the famous knight and saw her brother was lost about the new development. That was her Jaime, though: a great fighter, but not so great a thinker.

However, that was when she noticed the brief exchanging of glances between Mordred and Ser Barristan, and a sinking feeling formed in her gut.

'He wouldn't dare!'

"Easily, Your Grace," Barristan answered after a few moments' thought.

Mordred grinned victoriously and beckoned to the Kingsguard. "Come, Uncle, we'll have so much fun!"

Cersei decided that she had stayed silent long enough. "Robert, you can't simply give away a member of the Kingsguard!"

Robert appeared deep in thought as he looked between her and Mordred, but the little girl wasn't done. She was looking at him with big, pleading eyes, eyes that had Robert wrapped around her finger when she was younger. Eyes she hadn't used in over ten years.

"I know he's your brother, but you have more family with you than she does," Robert reasoned in his kingly voice. He nodded to Mordred. "It is done; Kingslayer, go with your niece now, before your sister makes a scene."

'You fucking useless bastard!'

"Come along, Uncle Jaime. We'll have so much fun at Harrenhal!" Mordred beckoned to Jaime, who numbly followed. A moment later, her daughter locked eyes with her and smiled.

Mordred played her - the little rat bastard's spawn played her! The bitch took Jaime away from her! She could only watch, suffering in silence as Mordred left with her brother, taking her other half away from her.

'Damn you to the Seven Hells, Mordred! Damn you~~~!'

End Book 1

AN: No, you are not seeing wrong, this is an actual update! That's right, thanks to my awesome editors, I was able to roll this out relatively fast back to back! I also can't believe I am now in the 300+ Review club for this story. I wonder if I would make to to 400. Thanks to do that enjoy this story! Thank you!

As for those leaving a review! Thanks for the great encouragement! :) Enjoy this reward for your support! Sometime, when it hits you, it hits you!

Naturally a lot of stuff happen in this chapter. I love the guesses for the last chapter ^_^, but now you see more of the reaction from everyone else. Sansa-Shirou reaction as the Wedding was nothing special. The Cake,w ell I think I went on about the cake enough. Arthur and Sansa bedding scene... well Northern women are more wild, Arthur pretty much gave them a strip show.

Finally! The final cock block from our favorite rebellious bastard! ^_^

./Sniff sniff... I think I need an oil change in my engine, it's about to catch on FIRE!

As always C+C welcome reviews definitely appreciated!