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

Foreboding

For hours now, he's been staring at the thick velvet curtains drawn tight against the dim sunlight that fought its way into his royal chambers. Days had passed since his last confrontation with Cersei and the tension and dread from that moment continues gnawing at him like a starved bloodhound. It wasn't her presence that kept him confined; it was the questions that circled his mind endlessly like dragons waiting to feast.

Was he truly ever Kingsblood? Or was there something more to his bloodline that he didn't know? The doubts festered within him, a poison far worse than anything his own mother could have inflicted. He had every reason to question it now, after her cruel revelation of prophecies and true intent...

Everything I do is for my children... Mayhaps, that was her only redeeming quality, that and her cheekbones.

But what if she did not say more? It was in her nature to manipulate people. But what if that were all she could say?

The questions crept in, each one more insidious than the last.

Could Cersei's words have been true? Could Robert have been deceived, or worse, was he not his father at all?

His entire life was built on sand. All he had known was the Baratheon name, his legitimate claim to the Iron Throne, the power he had been granted. But it could all be a lie. A mere fiction created by forces beyond his understanding. His identity was in tatters.

Trying to quell the headache that had taken residence in his temples, Steffon closed his eyes and rubbed them.

He didn't want to consider the possibility of being anything less than himself, but it lurked in the corners of his mind.

He barely noticed the movement beneath his bed. It was only when a sharp pain shot up his leg that he snapped back to the present.

"Bloody-" He cursed and pulled his leg up, finding a small rat scurrying away after biting him. The blood trickled down his ankle, and a new frustration boiled up inside him.

The sight of the rat, an insignificant creature, like himself. He was scurrying through his life, trying to survive, but always at the mercy of forces beyond his control. He gritted his teeth, his anger flaring, and called for whoever was behind the doors.

"Summon the ratcatcher, Ser!" He ordered, his voice tight with frustration. He needed something to focus on, something to ground him in the present. If only the vermin could be dealt with as easily as his doubts.

Minutes later, the door to his chambers opened, and a tall, familiar figure entered. Steffon blinked in surprise. It was not a ratcatcher at all, but his old Braavosi swords instructor and former sworn shield. His face was older, etched with lines of experience, but his sharp, calculating gaze was uncomfortably familiar.

"Your Grace," Maxir said with a low bow. "I hear you have a rat problem?"

A boyish grin cracks through Steffon's scowl before he runs towards him as though he were the closest thing he ever had to a father figure.

Maxir grins back, enveloping the boy into a manly hug. "Let me have a good look at you." Maxir pulled back, his eyes roving the boy's figure like a poacher in the woods, and he frowned. "You certainly look worse for wear, to be sure. I thought you'd grown up to be as robust as Robert."

To that, Steffon felt ashamed, and the suspicion of his parentage grows like mold on bread.

His throat tightened as he gestured for Maxir to sit by the balcony overlooking all of King's Landing. They sat across from each other. "There are things I must share to you, for it has been eating at me, really, and I'm afraid it's going to swallow me whole by the morrow."