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

The Fawn's Defiance

Steffon jolts awake in his bed, his breathing ragged and shallow, and he is drenched in sweat, and his heart is racing with terror.

The nightmare had been vivid, horrifying.

It featured his beloved sister, being... tormented and tortured in... various ways.

He can still picture her terrified face in his mind, her screams echoing in his ears.

The gods were taunting him.

He gets up from the bed and paces the room, trying to calm his racing heart and soothe his frazzled nerves.

Then, he remembers. He remembers that he is in Joffrey's old bedchamber, the same place where the boy king had slept. And he remembers the gruesome hunting trophies that still adorn the walls and the furniture.

He wonders if this could be the cause of his nightmares, that or the fact that he had spent four years in the dungeon. Four long years of darkness, isolation and torment had left their mark on him. With a heavy heart, Steffon realized that the true source of his nightmares may be more complicated than simply being in a haunted room.

As Steffon opens the door to his room, he is met with the hulking frame of his Kingsguard, Ser Osmund Kettleblack. The man stands at attention outside the door, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"Your Grace," Ser Osmund bowed his head in respect. "Is everything alright?"

"I cannot sleep, Ser," Steffon admits, raking a hand through his unruly black curls. "I keep having bad horrible dreams."

Ser Osmund nods in understanding, his face creased with concern. "I'm sorry to hear that, Your Grace. Is it the room that troubles you?"

Steffon shakes his head. "I think so. The memories of my older brother's reign and the hunting trophies... I'm surrounded by death and cruelty."

Ser Osmund nods again. "The room has a dark history."

Steffon lets out a weary sigh and rubs his temples. "Perhaps a drink would do me good," he says. "I merely need to clear my head."

Ser Osmund looks hesitant for a moment, but then nods. "Of course," he says. "I'll have a bottle of wine brought-"

"Actually," Steffon says, "I meant a tavern. I need to get out of here for a while."

Ser Osmund looks taken aback at this request. "Your Grace, your safety-"

Steffon gives Ser Osmund a firm look, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "I will not be confined to this castle like a prisoner, Ser."

The knight swallows, looking uncomfortable and conflicted. "Your safety is our top priority."

"Four of my Kingsguard shall accompany me then," Steffon says, his voice brooking no argument. "You and three others. I will not be alone and all of us shall be disguised. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Ser Osmund hesitates for a brief moment, but then nods. "As you command, Your Grace," he says, his face betraying that he doesn't agree with this decision.

Steffon smiles slightly. "Good," he says. "Have the other three Kingsguards meet me at the entrance in half an hour's time. "And find me some plain clothes to wear"

"Of course, Your Grace," Ser Osmund obeyed, bowing his head in acquiescence. He turns on his heel and strides away, already barking orders to the other Kingsguard to prepare for the secret outing.

- - -

As they walk through the streets of Fleabottom, their identities concealed by hooded cloaks and humble clothes, Steffon and the four Kingsguards attract a few curious glances but largely go unnoticed.