ARRY
5 Years Later...
He was in his chambers, standing by a large window as he watched the snowflakes gently caress the soft white blanket of snow. He knew what his mother would say in this moment of time; she would warn Arry and his siblings about the harshness of winter and all the sorrows that came along with it. After all it was his mother's house words that had taught him to fear this season. Winter is coming. But unlike his mother, his siblings and even his father, Arry is no Stark. It is Baratheon blood that flowed through his veins and Baratheons do not fear winter. Baratheons do not fear anything. Ours is the Fury.
He watches the snow as it continues to fall. Arry knows this is his moment. While everyone else is distracted with the preparations for winter, Arry will strike. He will take back the lands that rightfully belonged to his grandfather. The lands that he is now entitled to.
He paddles naked back to his featherbed and lays on top of the warm sheep-skin blankets. Melisandre stirs beside him and she moves to place a gentle hand on his bare chest. Arry turns to face the Red woman and stares at her fondly, as she sleeps peacefully to his right. Fondly is the right word. That is all she is to him: a friend, a mentor but not a lover. They may fuck but that is all it means to either one of them- fucking. He respects her. He is grateful for her guidance, her knowledge. if it was not for the lady Melisandre, he would not be the man he is today. She taught him everything he knows and she inspired him to reclaim what was rightfully his; the Iron Throne. She has shaped him to be a befitting King. No longer is he the podgy, frightened child that hides behind his books. He is now Arry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End and soon he will be King Arry Baratheon, ruler of the seven kingdoms.
Technically he should not be Lord until his father's death but, his father renounced his title and handed down his Lordly duties to Arry. Though Arry loves his father, he knows the man is not capable of being a Lord. Though his father is legitimized, Arry knows he will always be the lowly bastard blacksmith. In fact, if he hadn't fallen in love with his mother, he doubted his father would have ever sought legitimization. Arry is a more suitable Lord but he will not keep this title for long. It is not his destiny to live the life of his Uncle Stannis but, rather do what his dear Uncle could not; take the Iron Throne.
He knows he is capable of achieving this. His fat has been replaced with hard muscle, he is strong, he is intelligent, he is charismatic, he is a leader and soon he will be king. He has been told that he has been misnamed. That he carries after his late uncle Robb Stark, the former King of the North. He has heard that his uncle was an intelligent man and a warrior on the battlefield. He has been told that he had extraordinary charisma and power that made men want to follow him. He has been told that he would have been King, if he did not let love cloud his judgement. Arry won't make the same mistakes as his uncle; he will not let a silly thing like love get in his way.
It is only a matter of time before he overthrows the Dragon Queen and takes back what is rightfully his. His grandfather should have killed the wench when he had a chance and now she sits on the Iron Throne. She sits on his throne. One dragon alone, is difficult to defeat and three dragons make the task near impossible. But her dragons lack control, discipline. Dragons are not invincible, they have been defeated before and will be defeated again.
Arry has already gathered up his bannermen and plans to overthrow the Queen. He has rallied men in the South; men who still believe Robert was their rightful King. The Brotherhood without Banners - a group of outlaws - has been his primary support for rallying troops. When he becomes King, he will ensure their status is upgraded to knighthood. With the support of the Brotherhood and the other Southern houses, his number already surpasses that of the Dragon Queen's unsullied and the Dorthraki army.
Arry wisely left the North out of his plan. He knows his parents would not approve of his ambitions but, they will be thankful once he takes the Iron Throne. He will not make the North an independent nation but, he will grant his family and Winterfell with the highest prestige one can bestow upon a land. If Brandon still desires to be a knight, he will name his brother head of the Kingsguard. If not, he would make a befitting Lord of Storms End.
Arry is ready to play the Game of Thrones and he is ready to win.
"Your Grace" Melisandre calls softly as she rouses from her sleep. She stretches and lets the blankets that were once covering her, fall to her waist. Her plump teats are revealed and her nipples are still red and raw. He can see the bite marks on them, from when he marked her last night.
Desire floods through him and he roughly pins her below him and swiftly enters her. She is not as tight as he would have liked- as they fucked plenty of times throughout the night - but she is warm, wet and ready for his cock.
He is thrusting his hips feverishly against hers, their skin slapping as his cock buries itself in her warm cunt. She archers her back, causing her teats to press against his chest. She grips his shoulders for support as she rises her hips up to meet his rough and haphazard thrusts. Her long, sharp fingernails dig into his back and he grunts from the action. The pain does not bother him though, as she is writhing and moaning beneath him. He moves his hands to roughly squeeze her breasts, pinching each nipple in turn. Suddenly, she clenches around him and that is all it takes to drive him over the edge. A few more thrusts and he spills his seed inside of her.
He pulls out of her and moves to his back, not wanting to crush her with his weight. They are both panting in an attempt to regain their breaths. She recovers quickly and gets straight down to business.
"The Tyrell's have offered little Alona to be you're Queen." Melisandre states.
Arry thinks about his cousin. The daughter of Willas and Sansa Tyrell. He remembers her heart shaped face with her bouncy auburn curls and emerald green eyes. The last time he had seen her, she was but a child but now she is now a woman flowered, befit to be a Queen. Arry scoffs and dismisses the thought, "she will never be my Queen" he states confidently.
"Highgarden is a powerful ally. It would be wise to win them from Daenerys while we still have the chance." Melisandre states.
Arry shakes his head, "the bloody bastards carry no honour. They have not spilled blood like all the other houses. The Tyrell's just float to whichever house has power and suck on them like vile leeches. If an enemy comes, threatening to overturn me when I am King, I rather have loyal bannermen by my side, not power hungry traitors that might help me win this war."
Melisandre knows that Arry needs the support of Highgarden, to help him win the battle against the Dragon Queen but, she holds her tongue. The once sweet little Stark child has now turned into a true Baratheon. And like a true Baratheon, he carries the same Baratheon temper."The Dornish?" Melisandre supplements.
Arry shakes his head, "Trust a viper over a leech? Not a chance."
"You have to marry someone, your Grace" Melsiandre informs.
Arry ponders this thought for a moment. "Very well my lady but, we shall discuss my future wife after I take the throne."
With that Arry gets out of bed and silently dresses. He can feel Melisandre's ruby red eyes boring into him as he dons on his breeches, undershirt and tunic. When he is dressed, Arry promptly leaves his chambers and heads towards the rookery. The rookery is empty with the exception of a old man who works as a messenger and a thousand ravens to keep Arry company.
He grabs a roll of parchment and a quill and begins writing his letter.
"Your Grace, shall I send off the letter for you?" the messenger asks, as Arry is sealing the parchment, with the Stag emblem.
"No need" Arry replies, as he grabs his letter and makes his way down to the Great Hall. Court was meant to start two turns ago and Arry knows he has kept his people waiting. He is happy to see that Lord Davos is waiting for him with his son Devan by his side.
"Devan, I need you to deliver this message for me" Arry states as he hands the younger man the parchment.
"Your Grace" Lord Davos interrupts, "why not just send a raven?"
"Because my Lord, the winter will be harsh soon and I shall not rely on a bird to deliver a message of utmost importance. Besides, I would like to keep this matter confidential and I need to be sure that no eyes read this message with the exception of the one person, who was intended to read it." Arry commands.
"Yes your grace" Devan responds, as he bows to Arry, "and whom may I ask, is to receive this message."
"You are to head for Winterfell" Arry responds, "that message goes to my brother, Brandon Baratheon and him alone. Not a soul, not Lord Bran, nor my father are to know the contents of this letter. Is that understood?"
"Yes, your grace" Devan bows again.
"Good. Now take as many of my bannermen as you need and set forth for Winterfell immediately." Arry commands.
Devan bows again and exits the Great Hall.
"Now" Arry begins, "let us resume court."