Beguiling Wolf

Chapter 15

Bronn was not in a good mood, his good father had been ousted by a bastard King and was currently on the run, the seven kingdoms were going to war, the mad king but only in blond this time had decided to have his good father hunted like a dog- with dogs across the seven kingdoms, he had thought to send the hound but of course, that blond incest bastard wanted the dog close. Oh, and his wife was being forced to marry Tyrion, the imp.

Bronn liked Tyrion but not enough to share his fucking wife.

Bronn was going to coat his hands with blood, perhaps the bastard King's blood, perhaps Tyrion's, he hadn't quite decided. He wondered briefly if Imp blood was different to normal blood....

His wife.

His Lyra.

His Wolf.

Being handed over to another fucking man. Half-man or not, Bronn was not happy, he wanted out of this fucking city. Maybe he'll take his wife and sister- only the one because fuck knows where the littlest wolf and fucked off to with the first sword of Braavos- and become a fisherman or a sellsword in Myr, or Meeren, somewhere exotic and warm. Lyra will get used to the warmth...after a decade or so. Bronn paused in his planning with an annoyed huff, he was a Stark now, and they did their duty, Bronn wouldn't leave his duties, Ly would never forgive him for it. Somedays, he missed being a heartless bastard, adjusting his plans as he walked Bronn kept a sharp eye out for his wife.

Eddard Stark settled his horse by a creek he had found, a small fire cooking a rabbit he had snared. As he started tearing apart the rabbit, Ned felt old and tired. He had thought his pack safe and secure; the future had been so bright but now...now it had all slipped through his fingers.

Because of Robert Baratheon and his fuck inability to see his children weren't his children or to do his duty and sire an heir.

Because of that lion cunt Cersei Lannister and her selfish, vindictive, cunty ways. Gods how he wanted to tear her throat out.

Because of Jon fucking Arryn fucking honour bound bastard who let the kingdom crumble and popped off leaving this shit show to Ned to deal with.

Because of himself and his honour, leaving his pack torn apart and vulnerable....

Ned grunted and savagely tore into the rabbit, letting the grease and fat drip down his chin as he stared into the darkness, grey eyes gleaming. It was time to leave the honour behind and embrace the wolf.

In the distance, the bays of hunting dogs sounded, having caught onto his scent, and he stood stomping on the campfire as he unsheathed ice, creeping into the shadows and waiting for his prey to arrive.

Ned Stark travelled the Kingdoms, leaving behind a trail of blood and bodies.

He might be alone and hunted but a wolf was unmatched.

Robert Baratheon stared out at the sea, feeling the familiar surge of fury which was only tempered by the age-old fear of being on the sea, ever since he had seen his parents ship break in the aptly named shipbraker bay Robert held a deep seeded fear of the sea. Robert's head fell into his palms as he wondered how his life had become such a shitshow.

Sometimes he wished he never won the rebellion. Sometimes he wished he hadn't dodged the strike Rhaegar had aimed at his neck. Sometimes he wished it was his own blood that went spraying across the ground and into the river instead of Rhaegar's rubies.

But no, this was his life...a lost love, a failed kingdom, a cold-hearted lion bitch who'd cuckolded him with her own fucking twin, three bastard children laying claim to his name and his legacy. A best friend who'd had to drug him and shove him on a boat because Robert had been too fucking thick to listen to him.