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

Maxir's Return

He rubbed his temples wearily as he made his way to his chambers, grateful for the quiet sanctuary of his private quarters. Once inside, he let loose a deep sigh and slumped down into his favorite armchair, closing his eyes and relishing the peaceful silence. Despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on his shoulders, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment at the progress made today.

His hand instinctively reached into his pocket and produced a single dandelion. He couldn't help but smile faintly as he brought it to his nose, inhaling the familiar sweet scent. A force of habit he'd cultivated over the years, the small yellow flower held a strange comfort for him, its simple beauty reminding him of simpler times. Even now, in the midst of the hustle and bustle as king, the dandelion's calming presence washed over him, momentarily banishing the worries that constantly weighed on his mind.

A sudden, unexpected figure caught his eye. He blinked, wondering if his tired mind was playing tricks on him, but the sight remained. There, in the corner of the room, stood Robb.

"A few sennights from now, you'll be a monster with two blades once more, and I would bet a hundred dragons on that, Baratheon," Robb jested.

Steffon scoffed, playfully picking at the dandelion but not plucking them.

"Without your precious swords too. A pity, old friend. You should go search for them. Didn't you love them more than you did your women?"

His body shook with a chill, a shiver trailing down his spine. Winter itself had invaded the room, seeping into the very marrow of his bones upon the specter before him. "I think I have no need for them anymore, now that I'm king," Steffon sighed in resignation. "But I'll still dispatch someone to look for them. After all, they were the bastards of the Father's family heirloom. Might I need a few beautiful blades to boast to the lickspittles of my court, isn't that right, Stark?" Steffon chuckled.

"And my sisters? Have you found them yet?"

Steffon couldn't answer, the humor now fading and it is evident on his face, and the words seem to be awfully stuck in his throat.

He had been busy, with his return from Dorne and returning his beloved sister to the Red Keep, and everything else which seems to pile into a never-ending tower, seeming to have no end...

Each quiet moment that stretched out seemed to only amplify the weight of the silence that hung in the air, punctuated by the beating of his heart. It was as if the very essence of winter had taken hold within the chamber, encroaching upon his once-comforting sanctuary.

Robb frowned, crestfallen. "But you... you owe me..."

Sullenly his gaze dropped to the floor, a pang of guilt and regret stabbing at his heart as Robb's words washed over him. He looked up at the specter and a silence as heavy as winter continues to hang in the air.

"No, Robb, I owe it to my people, and I cannot simply take anymore responsibilities, especially with the looming threat of a long winter on the horizon, and Lannisters being such thorns on my side."

He paused, his gaze fixed on his dead friend's specter, a pang of guilt and responsibility etched across his features.

"Look, I am doing whatever I can as someone in my position, but the needs of the Realm come first and foremost. I cannot prioritize... personal matters over the well-being of my people, not now, not ever."

The dead boy's voice cut through the wintry silence like a sharpened knife, laced with mockery. "And yet you remain in love with Myrcella..."

He had prepared himself for many things, but the dead man's words had caught him off guard.