Shows [Reverse Harem x Reader]

Fifty-Four

You looked at Joffrey with the crossbow pointed directly at you, your heart hammering but your expression carefully neutral.

"I would rather not," you said calmly, taking a step back. "I'm not dressed for training."

You turned to walk away, already calculating the fastest route back to your chambers.

But Joffrey's hand shot out, grabbing your arm and spinning you back around.

His grip was bruising, fingers digging into your flesh through the velvet.

"I wasn't asking," he said, his voice dropping to something darker.

Then his other hand moved, holding your face, bringing it closer to his in a way that made your skin shiver, fingers pressing inappropriately against you.

His lips are so close to yours.

The disgust must have been written clearly across your face because Joffrey's eyes flashed with something ugly, wounded pride mixed with rage.

"Don't look at me like that, you never minded when I treated you like a slave" he hissed.

You didn't think. Your hand moved on instinct, cracking across his face with enough force to snap his head to the side, and have him stagger away from you.

For a moment, everything was silent.
Joffrey's face turned crimson, his expression twisting into something monstrous.

The crossbow was still in his hand, and before you could move, before you could think-

Thwack.

White-hot pain exploded in your shoulder.

You screamed, stumbling backward as the bolt embedded itself in your flesh. Blood bloomed across your dress, spreading like spilled tea.

"Filthy Bastard" you spat but Joffrey smirks.

The amount of blood gushing out of your wound is more than enough to make you black out.

And you do, but Joffrey grabs you, acting like the caring brother, he starts shouting.

"My sister is bleeding! Call the maester, if she dies I will have father behead you all."

𓋜⋆⭒⋆𓋜

The world came back in fragments, candlelight flickering against stone walls, the softness of silk sheets beneath you, and pain.

The pain in your shoulder was like liquid fire.

"She's waking up," a small voice said, thick with tears.

You forced your eyes open to find Myrcella's tearstained face hovering above you, her golden curls falling forward. Beside her, Tommen was sobbing quietly, his round face blotchy and red.

"You're awake," Myrcella breathed, her voice breaking. "You're awake, thank the gods."

Your mother sat at your bedside, her hand gripping yours with surprising gentleness.

Cersei's face was pale, her green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that might have been concern or perhaps fear of losing a valuable piece on her board.

"Sweetling," she asserts, her thumb stroking across your knuckles.

"Don't try to move. The maester removed the bolt, but you've lost  blood."