These festivities are to celebrate our victory against the rebellious Ironborn," says Tywin Lannister who did not participate in the fighting in any way except having his fleet burned, "and the brave men who helped to achieve it. His grace, King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name wishes to offer a singular honour to those who showed the greatest courage against Balon Greyjoy's would-be reavers."
The tournament grounds were respectfully quiet as Robert stepped down from the audience and onto the tournament grounds. With a simple command, he had several men kneel before him. Among those men were Thoros of Myr the strange and rambunctious man with a flaming sword and first inside Castle Pyke, and Jorah Mormont the man who immediately followed him. With a brief ceremony, they and six others were knighted by King Robert to raucous applause. Robert exchanged a few words with each of them before returning to his seat.
"And one final announcement, we have received word that my daughter, Queen Cersei, has given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. Let us celebrate once more, the Princess Myrcella Baratheon!"
Bradley did his best not to cringe into his seat. Not only might it have collapsed if he put too much weight on it, he wouldn't want to let on to anyone that the new Princess might in fact not be a Baratheon. There was no mention of anything strange in the announcement... Maybe he got lucky and Myrcella didn't take his eye colour? All he had to do was not be in the same room as the princess and no one would ever know!
As the cheers began and the Lannisport tourney started in earnest, Bradley was left to ruminate on his new circumstance. His eyes slipped from the proceedings towards his new... What was the word. Hostage? Ward? Ward. His new ward, Asha Greyjoy.
She wasn't really what he had been expecting. At most he had been expecting a preteen girl. Ned hadn't been exaggerating saying she was a little older. She was clearly going through the most inconvenient part of her teenage years, body still awkwardly filling out to adult proportions, face full of pimples. On the upside... At least that meant his obligation to her would be short? In a few years she could go back to doing whatever she wanted, probably go back to the Iron Islands, he would guess.
Though that was the other part he found surprising. Robert's suggestion of teaching Balon's kids 'not to be daft cunts like their father' was apparently a job already done for Asha. In their very first conversation she had called Balon a fucking idiot who got her brothers killed for no reason.
As he watched her for a moment, sulking in her seat, utterly uninterested in the joust (which, to be fair, so was he), he couldn't help but think this whole fostering thing would be a piece of cake.
"Something the matter, Greyjoy?"
… Oh, right. There was that.
Behind them, Jason Mallister had a disapproving air as he literally looked down on Bradley's new ward.
"Just not much for idiots on horses running at each other with sticks, Mallister," she replied with disinterest.
"Ah, I see. Not enough rape and murder for your tastes. I understand."
"Jason." That was all Bradley said, but he did his best to convey his thoughts through tone. 'Jesus, man! Some damn manners! For fuck's sake she's like thirteen!'
A chorus of "Ohhh!" swept through the crowd as one of the competitors was unhorsed and trampled. He wasn't going to get up again. "There we are! Perhaps that's more to your liking?"
The Seagard lord had been warned. Bradley might not have been happy about the task he was given, he might have wanted to foster friendship between their houses, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let Mallister pick on a little girl, especially one in his care!
But as he was about to chastise the other Lord, consequences be damned, Asha beat him to it. "Not really. This," she gestured with an arm at the clearly dead man being dragged off of the grounds, "is you greenlanders' idea of a show. Not mine."
… Alright. He changed his mind. Looking after Asha would be awesome. He suddenly felt a need to sic her on Bertrum and watch the fireworks.
-(-)-
For the length of the tourney, the visiting Lord's were put up at the Lannister's expense, a compensation for not contributing to ending the rebellion. From Bradley's understanding, if the Lannisters had a problem, they could almost always throw money at it to make it go away.
As he entered his quite fancy accommodations, Bradley immediately had to cover his eyes. "Asha, what the hell are you doing?" he asked with frustration and discomfort.
"What's it look like?" she asked from the bed, where she lay completely naked. Bradley parted his fingers just enough that he could look her in the eye at least, and not see anything else of her. "I'm not stupid. You've basically taken me as a saltwife. Didn't think you greenlanders had it in you but shows what I know." Her eyes wander down and then back up. "Not exactly my first choice, bit too pretty for my tastes, but you'll do."
Somehow, being called 'pretty' as a square-jawed mountain of muscle was the least confusing part of this conversation. "Asha, I'm supposed to look after you."
"Right, right," she said with a roll of her eyes, "Please ser!" she continued in a painfully fake sweet and simpering voice, "I'm so frail and helpless! Won't the big strong man come and take care of me! This bed is so cold without you!" She leaned toward him in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive.
"No, no!" he denied, closing his fingers to readjust and shift his view now that she had moved. "I mean actually take care of you, you're my responsibility until you come of age. Like... Like a parent!"
"Ohhhh," she nodded slowly with dawning understanding. Bradley let out a sigh of relief– "Of course, I'll do whatever Father wants..."
"Nono! Nonononono! No." With resignation, Bradley lowered his hand so he could look the girl in the eye properly, even if that also gave him an eyeful of gangly teenage girl. "Asha. Listen to me closely. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Fuck. You. Jesus, you're what, thirteen?!"
"My fifteenth name day was last month," she corrected with affront in her tone.
"Asha... Put some damn clothes on."
"Tch, fine!" Rolling off the bed she hurriedly collected and dressed in her smallclothes and a sleeping shift. "You know what? You just made this a challenge!" she announced, a little pink in her cheeks, strangely enough. "I'm going to wear you down until you ravage me like you're supposed to!"
"Go to bed, Asha."
"But it's so lonely sleeping alone! Can I sleep in Father's bed toni–"
"Goodnight, Asha."
"Fucking coward!"
-(-)-
The trip back to Seagard was a torturous one. Much like the journey to Lannisport, he gained passage on Lord Mallister's ship. And much like then, he kept Asha company belowdeck on Jason's insistence. He did not hide the fact that if no one were keeping an eye on the Greyjoy while she was on his ship, he would have her in chains instead. The first time, it had been fine. They had strained, curt, but polite enough conversations. He found out what she liked to read and that she thought her father was a cunt. He wouldn't say they bonded but they perhaps understood each other better.
This time though... It turned out when she had claimed to take his refusal as a challenge she was entirely serious. And so Bradley spent the days at sea being the target of a teenage girl's awkward attempts at seduction. Somehow his mind took him back to that last fateful day of high school when he tried to ask out... Err... Whatever her name was. Was this what it was like on the other side of that conversation? Someone you do not find appealing trying to get your interest? He could admit that one day the seafaring girl might be quite attractive. She was certainly self-assured. But until he could see her as an adult in her own right, he couldn't stomach the idea of giving in to her advances.
So instead he had no choice but to endure them.
Their exit from Seagard was abrupt. Mallister tried to be polite but made it quite clear Asha had already been in his city for too long. At least he had enough class not to point out Rodrik's skull still hanging from the watchtower. It was honestly disappointing how that was even a concern. They two seaside lords had been getting along so well but apparently the admittedly understandable grudge against the Ironborn superseded any other concerns.
When Asha brazenly took off her top and suggested they swim across the Green Fork, he almost considered picking her up and throwing her across. Well, not so much 'almost'. He did consider it. Even did the math on his strength and her estimated weight to figure out if he could do it. He could probably have gotten her about three quarters of the way? But then she'd fall in. And she'd lament 'Oh no, I guess I better take off all these wet clothes!' and they'd have to stop while her clothes dried while she was in her underwear and she'd try to flirt with the man in the giant metal suit because like hell he'd take his armour off–
…
"Fuck it, we'll cross at the Twins." Never did he believe he would say this, but dealing with Freys felt like it would be the better option.
By the time he finally got home, a large part of Bradley just wanted to crawl into the vault and never come out again. But as he walks with purpose into the dining hall and see his wife waiting for him, another part of him that had been sorely pressed for the past couple of weeks demanded satisfaction.
All it took was a single look at her husband and Lyanna knew what she was in for. She even prepared herself for what came next; Bradley picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder to carry her to their chambers.
"Bertrum, Asha Greyjoy in the dining hall. Find her a room," Bradley rattled out quickly as he near sprinted down the hall past the bald seneschal. If he got a response, he didn't care to listen to it, instead he threw open the chamber door and then slammed it behind him. Still with his wife over his shoulder, Bradley unsealed and stepped out of his power armour, took his wife in his arms again and threw them both onto the bed.
"Ah, it's not, a safe day," Lyanna gasped out as her husband feverishly worked all her most sensitive spots. "I was, thinking, I wouldn't mind, if you want– Hahhhh!" she cried as she felt Bradley's thick shaft drive into her without warning! "What brought this on?!"
"Teenage girl, wants to fuck, very persistent," Bradley grunted, finally getting what he needed after months away from home.
"Ah-hah!" she gasp-laughed as he ravaged her like a wanton beast. "I'll have to, set her straight! Or thank her and ask her to keep it up!"
Bradley flipped her over, pulling her hips up and sinking himself into her folds again even as he smacked her firm ass in reprimand. "Minx."
"Don't want to, give her what she, mmmmmm... What she wants?"
"Maybe when she's older."
"Mmmm, I'll have to get to know her then."
-(-)-
Months later
Being at home again had only strengthened Bradley's resolve to not go to war again unless he really needed to. Going out on adventures is fun. Going to war is months of intolerable boredom before a couple days of unsatisfying ultra-violence. The truth was, he was a little too strong for him to take such conflicts seriously. Of course, if he ever needed to get involved again he wouldn't hold back. He wouldn't compromise his own safety just for the rush of a decent fight. He had a kid to come home to! Three soon. Lora's belly had inflated like a balloon while he had been gone and only continued to do so, and Lyanna's wasn't far behind.
No, he felt much more satisfaction building up his own little fiefdom into wealth and success. And only helping those things on top of all of the advantages he already had were the royal visits. When the King and Queen decide to stop by a certain place once a year, people eventually take notice. The seaside town of Biteside (Bradley had tried to get the name changed to something better but unfortunately it stuck) saw a greater flow of people into it the month before the royal visit. People trying to get the attention of the royals for better or worse.
This time, they had decided to bring the Prince and Princess with them. From what Bradley saw, Joffrey was a bit of a bratty kid but he was still tiny, he'd probably grow out of it. Though for some reason his scarred up bodyguard gave the host a nod of respect on meeting him. What that was about, Bradley had no idea.
And surprising him not at all, he received another visit from Queen Cersei, though with the baby in her arms, her intentions were quite different this time. "I thought you might like to meet the Princess under less formal circumstances," she spoke softly as to not wake the baby girl in her arms.
As she approached him he met her halfway, not even noticing as he slipped an arm around her back while looking down into the sleeping face of his child. His second daughter. His heart clenched as he realised she would never know that. She would call Robert 'Father', and in that realisation any guilt he felt for stealing Lyanna or laying with Cersei evaporated. "She's beautiful," he breathed out, but even trying to be quiet he disturbed the girl, her eyelids flitting open for just a moment before closing again. Even more softly he continued, "Your eyes. Hell, she's mostly you, isn't she? Didn't get much from her father besides her hair."
"No, no she didn't," Cersei agreed, trying not to laugh. "She's quite lucky for that isn't she?"
"Even so," he nodded slightly, "I bet her father would move heaven and earth to keep her safe and happy."
Cersei looked up at him then, felt his arm around her that had felt as natural as her heart beating in her chest and looked at him with a certain sadness behind her eyes. "Yes, I imagine he would." With graceful reluctance, she moved away and out of his reach. "I should put her to bed. Goodnight, Lord Bradley."
As she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, Bradley's response was said to an empty room.
That night, as he slept, there was a hollow feeling that he couldn't escape. An absence in his life that he worried he would never be able to repair.
-(-)-
In the past several months, Asha had settled in quite well in Bradley's home. She didn't make much of a fuss about being away from the Iron Islands, only occasionally waxing melancholic over Ten Towers where she spent much of her childhood. When she wasn't shamelessly flirting with Bradley, they had interesting conversations about books. Bradley was a nerd before he was a dark ages superhero so with a lot of the legends of Westeros reading like fantasy epics he was fascinated by them.
Eventually she earned enough trust that he brought her down to Biteside to take a look at the building of their seafaring operation in progress.
"Your docks are shit."
She was not impressed. At least rendering judgement meant she wasn't shamelessly teasing him anymore. It really hadn't looked right with her arm linked through his considering their relative heights. He was at least smart enough not to point that out though. He didn't need her doing the daughter routine again.
"What's wrong with them?" he asked, not paying too much mind to the passing fishermen who probably helped build those docks once upon a time.
"Too short. Don't stretch far enough to get out of the shallows," she explained with folded arms and furrowed brow. "It's fine for fishing but you want to make it a trade port? A galley'd be stuck anchoring out at sea. They'd have to transfer cargo by rowboat. And speaking of cargo, where's your storehouses?"
Bradley hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a row of small buildings used to store the caught fish. He was starting to see the flaw of his expert sea trader being in contact only by letter. All the obvious stuff was being missed for the worry of the more complicated parts.
Asha pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright. Storehouses. Big ones. Big enough to hold multiple shipments at once. New docks. Not these ones, these ones are fine as they are for fishermen and you don't want to upset the people bringing in food if you can help it. New ones. Sturdier, built to last and hold a lot of weight. On top of that..."
… Yeah. Much better having an in-house expert Bradley thought with a smile.