Fury And Pride | Myrcella Baratheon x Male!OC Fanfiction | Game Of Thrones AU

The Last Night

He quickly closed the distance between them and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "No, I could never hate you," he said, his eyes intensely locked onto hers. "Never."

He tightened his grip on Myrcella's shoulders, as if trying to convey through touch the strength of his words.

She swallowed hard, quick to shed tears. "But you've been avoiding me, pushing me away, and have refused my help when I offered to take care of you..."

You blasted fool, now look what you've done, Steffon cursed at himself.

He wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but he fought against that urge, knowing that he needed to stay strong and explain his actions.

Taking the might of a thousand warriors, he took a deep breath and spoke firmly. "I've merely distanced myself for your own sake. As you know, there are rumors going around of my... escapades, and I want none of that to soil your honor."

"Do you think I care about such rumors?" she said, whimpering. "I-I've heard the whispers, yes, seen the way people look at you. But none of that none of that matters to me. I... I just want my brother back, really."

The sounds she was making at the moment, it made Steffon want to crumble into nothingness.

He let go of her shoulders and stepped back, knowing he was guilty and at fault for every droplet of tears from his sister's eyes. He strode back and forth across his bedchamber, his mind housed a thunderstorm, and his feet needed to move as he tried to work through it.

Steffon stopped his pacing. He looked at Myrcella. "I'm leaving for Storm's End," he said firmly, his voice steady and resolute. "I'm moving there, permanently as I've been renamed it's heir."

Myrcella looked at Steffon, confused. "But I thought you were our grandfather's heir?"

Steffon felt more sad that he no longer inherited the Rock more than he had to leave it for good. He had grown up there, spent countless hours exploring its halls and chambers, and built many memories with Uncle Tyrion. It might have been his hell by day, but by night it was his home, or it used to be.

Now his plans no longer reside in the Westerlands, but in the Stormlands, as expected of him.

Steffon paused, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Grandfather... He had a change of heart," he put it as nicely as he could. "Tommen's his new heir now."

But he was afraid for his reputation. He had already heard whispers and rumors about his behavior and lifestyle, spreading like wildfire, and he feared that this change would only make matters worse.

A drunkard, a whoremonger, and moving to Storm's End would have me stoop so low I would prefer to soon drown in Shipbreaker Bay, Steffon cursed himself again. My fate is sealed and I'm forced to end up like Father.

He wanted to scream, to punch something, to let out the monstrous stag that was growing larger day by day within him and covering his judgement like a raincloud.

Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself, though the tension in his body remained palpable.

He couldn't hold it anymore. He wanted to see her. He needed to.

He turned and his fiery gaze fell upon her. He studied her face, the way her eyes were filled with concern and worry, the way her heart-shaped lips would quiver slightly at the corners.

Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to force a counterfeit smile to reassure her and send her off her way. "I'm alright. You know what? You should best go-"