Fandom: Young Justice

Story Title: "Heartlines On Your Hand"

Summary: She was little more than a bastard and he was a prince and this could not work, not truly. /Or, Wally/Artemis in the Game of Thrones 'verse. For Wally/Artemis Week.

Character/Relationship(s): Wally West/Artemis Crock, Oliver Queen/Dinah Lance, Mary West/Rudolph West

Rating: T

Warnings: Language.

Story Word Count: 4700+ (kill me)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Notes: Wally/Artemis Week 2.0 is on its way, and this is my first offering to it. Ugh. I don't know what to think of this story haha, but it's done (and it's long) so yeah. This is a mash-up with Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire and as such as canon typical everything. (It's actually part of a longer fic that I'm writing with monnrah on tumblr.) Um, if you have any questions I suppose you could just ask because I can't think of anything that you'd need help deciphering right now.

Heartlines On Your Hand

The first thing that Artemis did, once she and the rest of Lord Queen's had gotten unpacked, was go and explore the castle. The Red Keep was large and wide, with all sorts of nooks and crannies for her to get stuck in. She'd been itching to go off on her own as soon as she had gotten out of the wheelhouse, truth be told, but had not been out of the sight of her septa until now.

Roy had gotten to leave as soon as he wanted, which was unfair beyond belief, but he was also Lord Queen's true son and heir and as a result got privileges that she did not. Westeros was not kind to a bastard.

As soon as the coast was clear Artemis lifted her best dress, the one that was green and had gold embroidery around the hem, and ran. She then made her way up and down the stairs, finding a new staircase at every turn.

The Eyrie was home, but the Red Keep seemed larger than life. She could hear the sounds of the feast, the one that she was missing, below her feet. A rumble of hunger hit her suddenly, so she went downstairs to the food only to find the prince at the bottom of the stairs.

Dinah had pointed him out to her as the royal family had stood in a line, though she had not been allowed to greet him herself. She hadn't been too impressed with him the first time that she had seen him, and she wasn't too terribly impressed now.

"Are you crying?" she asked, scandalized because there was wetness on his cheeks. When he looked up even his freckles looked pink.

"No," he insisted, scraping the tears—because that is what they were, tears—off his cheeks. Then he glared at her. "Shut up, bastard."

Artemis couldn't help the gasp that came out of her. She hated being called a bastard, hated, hated, hated it. The word wasn't so much the problem as was the way that it was said. Usually like a curse, like a bastard was the worst thing in the world that a person could be. Bastard was said with a mouthful of spit and negative connotations.

And the worst part was, she wasn't a bastard. She was a lady of the Iron Islands brought to the Eyrie by Lord Oliver Queen on the request of her dying mother. Not that anyone knew that, they couldn't. It was a secret few knew, and that was the way that it had to stay.

So being called bastard really did feel like a slap in the face. She pushed him, not caring that he was the prince and that she was nothing. Prince Wallace let out a scoff, and pushed her back.

Just like that, Artemis did not care anymore. She shoved him, hard, and watched him fall into the ground only to come right back up again, and then they were rolling around on the ground, running into tables and ruining their clothes, covering them with dirt.

Neither of them noticed that they rammed too hard into one of the tables, causing it to topple over, until it was too late. It was only when she heard the gasps, the music pausing, adults descending that Artemis realized what happened.

They both scrambled up to face the king, and when he bellowed, "What in the hell happened?" she looked at Prince Wallace and waited, waited for the prince to tell them all what had happened. Even if it hadn't been her fault that both of their finest clothes had gotten ruined and that they had knocked over two tables that had been full of food, it wouldn't have mattered. Wallace was the prince, and to everyone present she was nothing more than a high lord's bastard.

Artemis would be punished more harshly for any wrongdoing, whatever the case. He could tell them anything that he wanted, could twist things so that he had done nothing wrong and everything would fall on her shoulders. The queen could command that she be whipped for her insolence and disrespect, or worse.

Artemis squared her shoulders and continued to wait for him to speak, as he had said nothing yet. What he said would be what mattered. There was no point in talking, for her.

"Well?" the king prompted, tapping his foot. "Explain why you both look like pigs that have rolled around in a trough. Now!"

"It was my fault," Prince Wallace said, which made Artemis slip air thorough her teeth. He was lying—lying, for her? That had to be it, there was no reason for him to take all the blame. The king and queen weren't cruel, but maybe he was afraid that they, or any of the rest of the court, would be to her.

He sent her a reproachful look, and she glared back because while she was grateful for what he was doing she still didn't like him. "I pushed Artemis so she pushed me back and then I tore her dress. I don't know how the tables happened."

"Wallace!" Queen Mary scolded immediately. "Apologize at once. Princes do not push down girls."

He turned to her and bowed slightly. "I apologize for my actions." He spared her another dirty look, his back to the adults so that they could not see his face, before continuing. "I should not have done that. I do not push ladies."

She was not a lady, not anymore, not since Lord Queen had taken her from the Iron Islands, but she did not dare argue. Especially since he could not have known about her true birth anyhow.

The queen led the prince away, still scolding him, and Artemis was sure that was the nicest thing that a lord that was not from the Eyrie had ever done for her. "Is it true, what Prince Wallace said?" Lord Queen asked, and Artemis look to the ground so that she did not have to see his face. But Oliver only laughed. "See that you don't do it again. Someone like you could do well to have a prince on your side."

Artemis mumbled something in reply, but he did not catch her words. "What? Speak up, child."

"I said, I do not understand why he did that. He could have said anything that he wanted and they would have believed it, but he lied for me instead."

"Prince Wallace may not be as charming as he likes to think he is, but at heart he is a good boy and will grow to be a good man. Now go and get washed up. I am sure that Dinah will have something to say about all of this."

Artemis groaned as she thought about what Lady Queen might say once she learned the truth—as she would from Oliver as soon as he saw her—but she ran to the bath anyway, knowing that she must look her best for the rest of the royal visit.

.x.

When Oliver told her that the king and his household was coming to the Eyrie, she groaned. It was a childish reaction—years had passed since she saw the prince, she had become a woman and he had become a man—but that was still her first reaction.

"I know how much you enjoy the prince's company," Oliver said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "but it is a good thing that the king wants to visit here. After all, it is his kingdom, so why might he not do as he pleases?"

Artemis had to admit that he was right, and she stood in the back of the receiving assembly grudgingly. The prince had grown handsome, she noticed, but that had nothing to do with his personality.

That night at the feast Prince Wallace flirted with every girl that he could, and drank as much as he was able, Artemis noticed from her place at one of the lower tables.

All she knew was that she still did not like him, despite the years between them and the kindness that he had shown her, once.

.x.

Few people knew of her nightly practices with her bow. It was something that Oliver had taught her, something that she had remembered doing as soon as she could walk. The men of the Eyrie were known for their archery and Lord Queen had not felt to keep the ability from her.

The lessons became less public as she grew older, needing to step into her role as a woman and a bastard, until she was good enough to practice on her own and no longer required help. She was just as good as Oliver's son, Roy, and she knew it.

Artemis loved her bow, with its taut strings and dark, polished wood. There were even carvings around the side, done when she had gotten bored and had access to a knife. But the arrows were her specialty. She made each and every one of them herself, seeing as how she could not get any in the armory, and they flew better than the ones that the others drew.

She knew that as she aimed them at the targets she had set up, and the arrows made a satisfying thunk as they hit the target one right after the other. The walls were not the only reason that the Eyrie was impregnable. If her home was attacked Artemis would be right behind the bannermen, sending arrows down at the enemy. She was more than ready.

"Are you sure you can even use that bow?" came a voice behind her, breaking her rhythm. The arrow wobbled, but still hit the target.

She whirled around, only to find herself face to face with the prince. This did not help her mood brighten, nor help her forget that she was holding a bow and wearing a quiver of arrows on her back.

"I think that you know that I am," she replied, her fingers tightening on the bow. She did not like this man. Not in the slightest. The feelings from her childhood had lingered, and there still was a mutual dislike on both sides. "Why are you out here?" When will you leave, will you make me find a new practicing spot, will you just go to sleep so that I can continue practicing.

Prince Wallace shrugged. "My bed is not interesting at the moment."

"What, no whore would fill it?" Artemis threw at him, and then wished she could grab her words and put them back in her mouth.

He lifted a hand to his heart, his mouth lifted in a smirk. "Oh, you just shot me right in the honor. Ouch."

She ran her thumb over the shaft of arrow in her hand, wishing that he would just go away. She was not going to apologize. When he realized that she was not going to say anything, he continued. "I actually came because I heard someone practicing in the yard."

"That is what it is for," she said, getting ready for an argument. She might have been from the Iron Islands, but the Eyrie was her home and Lord Queen was as good as her father. They were not in the King's Landing where the prince's word was law.

"I am a good warrior, quick and sure. My sword is one of the best." Artemis just stared at him as he listed his attributes, and wondered what the point was. She also wondered what he would do if she rolled her eyes the way she truly wished to. "But my bow and arrow is weak. And I was wondering..." he looked down. "I was wondering if you would help me."

"Me?" Artemis could not believe what she was hearing, not truly. She was a woman, one who should not even have a bow and arrow, let alone one to teach a prince. But the fact that he would even consider her.

"You work well with a bow," he continued, "and I cannot ask your half-brother for fear of him laughing at me."

"So I am your last resort." Artemis paused. "Are you really that bad?" She couldn't believe that it was so. He had the Kingsguard surrounding him his whole life, he must have picked up things from them, let alone his own trainers.

"Let me show you," he told her with a grin, and then he did.

That, she supposed when she thought about it later, was the moment when everything became unraveled.

.x.

Prince Wallace was not nearly as terrible as he said, Artemis concluded. His form really was what needed work, and then the rest would come easily.

When she told him as much, he laughed. "I hope that you are right." He shot an arrow, only to have it land on the rim of the target. When Wallace, he had asked her to call him that a week ago, grinned at her she found herself smiling back.

Over the course of their late night training sessions she had found him less and less unbearable, until he was not unbearable at all. That frightened her, but she did not show it.

"Here," she said, suddenly exasperated. "Let me show you." Wallace was a good student, and he put up with her lackluster teaching habits, but it seemed as though he forgot everything that she had taught him only five minutes before.

She grabbed his hand, suddenly grateful for the darkness of the night as her cheeks warmed. Together they put his back towards his shoulder and Wallace was in the right position again. They had done this before, but for some reason this seemed different, other.

For the first time she realized how close to the prince's face she was, how strong his arms seemed when she held them. Maybe he noticed too, because his whole face softened and he leaned forward slightly... only to fall over, bow and all.

Artemis laughed. "If you stayed on your feet, maybe that would help your aim," she told him as she offered her hand and helped him up.

"But how could I do that when such a lovely lady accompanies me?"

"Men always stay on their feet when women are around, except perhaps when they are in bed."

"I may enjoy the ground, have you considered that?"

"Then you are the only one that does." The two of them were grinning at each other until Artemis had to turn away, her throat suddenly feeling tight. "Now, come on. You asked me to help you with your aim, and you are no better than before."

She was beginning to like him too much.

.x.

Artemis knew that she had to tell him eventually. She was falling, too fast, and it was a dangerous thing for a woman in her position. For someone that was no more than a bastard. But she was not a bastard, and that was the problem.

Her life would be so much easier if she truly was a bastard, but she was not and that was where all of the trouble started.

She trusted him not to tell but she could not not tell him. If this was the only way to bring a stop to things, then so be it. She would tell him and he would abandon her and find a new archery teacher, and that would be that.

The perfect opportunity to tell him fell into her lap one night, and Artemis knew that it was now or never. They had been laughing only moments before, so to have to tell him now... it was painful.

"Wallace," she started, and then paused. "I need to tell you something. Something about the circumstances of my birth."

She looked down at her hands, but when Wallace grabbed one, cover her rough fingers with his, he asked, "What is it? I already know that you are a bastard."

"But I am not. I..." she paused again. She'd never said the words out loud, never had to. Everyone that had needed to know had already known. "I am not really Lord Queen's bastard. I am the second daughter to Lawrence of House Crock, and a lady of the Iron Islands."

The words got stuck in her throat. She hated the fact that she was forged from iron and smuggled here after the failed rebellion. Her mother had wanted her sent somewhere else, and that fact alone made her heart spin.

Wallace's eyebrows met in the middle. "...What? Why are you telling me this?"

"I just. I thought you should know."

"Artemis," he squeezed her hand, not having let go of it throughout her entire speech. "It does not matter to me where you're from. You're always going to be you. You're my archery teacher, though it will not be long until the student surpasses the teacher in every way. And you're beautiful and stubborn and you, no matter where you come from."

And that was what undid her, the fact that he did not care that she was not an arrow after all, but instead a tiger.

.x.

"No, I will do Artemis's hair tonight, thank you," Dinah said, dismissing her lady's maid. Artemis turned around to look at the only mother that she had ever known. Lady Queen did not do Artemis's hair any longer, that was something that she had done when Artemis was a child but no longer now that she was a lady.

This meant that she wanted to talk.

When the servant left, Lady Queen stood behind Artemis and placed her hands in her hair, creating tight braids as she did so. Her hands were deft, skilled, and a silence made its way between them before Dinah started to speak.

"You need to be careful," she said finally.

"Of what?" Artemis replied, trying to lay the innocence on thick, but in response Dinah pulled on her hair and she knew that the rouse was pointless.

"Prince Wallace is a good man, one of the best. He will make a good king."

"He will." She wholeheartedly agreed. Doubt never crossed her mind when she thought of Prince Wallace's reign as king.

Finally Dinah frowned. "People are starting to talk, Artemis. I just wanted to you know that. The two of you are not as secretive as you think that you are. This is dangerous."

"No one cares about the virtue of a bastard."

"I do not care about your virtue, I care about your heart. The way that you look at him, and he looks at you..." Dinah sighed, twisting another lock of Artemis's hair in place. "He is a prince. You are a lady of the Iron Islands, and as such worthy of him, but you are also a bastard. That is how all of Westeros views you. A bastard and a prince? That sounds like a song of long ago, one that ends in eternal tears and a noble death, not real life."

"No one cares about the virtue of a bastard," Artemis repeated.

Dinah sighed again, putting the final touch's on Artemis's hair and planting a kiss on her cheek after she finished. "I tried to warn you. Remember that. Just... don't fall too in love with him. I cannot see this ending well."

.x.

From across the yard she heard Wallace's laugh, and she smiled at the very sound. He laughed often, and loudly, at whatever amused him but most of the time what he was laughing about was truly funny. She wanted to know what he was laughing at, so she quickened her pace so that she did not miss it.

Yet what she saw was a scene completely different from what she had imagined. Wallace had been spending the evenings with her, after the feasts, and to see him with Karen Beecher truly surprised her. They were talking and he was laughing, laughing at something that the other woman was saying.

Karen Beecher was the daughter of a lord, a pretty thing that Artemis herself had not spent much time with. Yes, she was not of high station, but she was more suitable for the prince's affections than Artemis herself was, and the idea stung like a wasp would, sharp once and leaving a lingering hurt behind.

Artemis knew that something like this would happen, she had known it from the time that the king came to The Eyrie. Yet when she saw it, the very idea made her heart turn to shreds in her chest. She did not like the idea of him marrying anyone, but she knew that he must do it in time, if only to keep the throne in the hands of House West. But the thought of him putting his cloak on someone's shoulders—someone that was not her, she could admit that now—made her heart clench so tight all she felt was agony.

She had to get away, and as she turned she heard Wallace call her name and she knew that he had seen her. She cursed her luck, and tried to keeping going, but he soon caught up with her. "Artemis, what is it?" he asked, and he looked truly confused.

"Having fun with Lady Beecher?" she spit more than asked, and she saw his face harden.

"She is charming," his eyes searched her face, but saw nothing there. "A good match, according to my mother. The queen introduced the two of us."

"Well she is a stupid woman, as stupid as you, and your children will all be stupid as well," Artemis said, knowing that she was being unfair as she grabbed her skirts to make haste getting away from him. "I hope you are stupidly happy together."

She wanted to go and cry for everything that she could never have, but she did not want the prince to see.

"Artemis," Wallace breathed, grabbing her wrist and she wrenched it away from him, directing the full force of her glare at him. "I am not going to marry her. I do not want to. I-" he paused, but did not say more, did not say what she had been wanting him to say.

Of course he hadn't. He could not say what she wanted him to say because she was not worth more than a bastard and he was the crown prince.

"You are the woman that I want," he said finally, and her heart swelled twice its normal size to hear him say that. "The only woman for me, ever since we were children and you pushed me into a leg of lamb."

That was all he had to say, though she could see on his face that he wanted to say more. Artemis knew that she could not have him, not truly, but for one night she wanted to pretend.

So she closed the space between them and grabbed his head, smashing their lips together. Artemis did not know what to do, never having kissed a man before, but her body reacted before her brain could catch up. Suddenly she was against the wall of his bedchamber, her legs around his waist and him holding her there.

His hands were in her hair, and she caught his lower lip between her teeth which caused him to shudder. "Are you sure?" he asked when they pulled away, his pupils blown wide with lust for her.

"Do not ask stupid questions," she muttered against his skin, and she unbuttoned his shirt before finally taking it off of him and throwing it to the floor.

.x.

Wallace had not left during the night, which surprised her. Artemis had expected him to act as though nothing had happened—that had been what she had planned to do.

"I ruined you," he said finally, once he realized that she was awake as well. "I ruined you, and now it is my duty to make up for that." He swallowed, hard. "To marry you."

"No one cares about a ruined bastard," Artemis countered, repeating the words she had told Lady Queen earlier that week. There was truth in her words, but he shook his head as if that would make the facts go away.

"You are not a bastard, you are a lady of the Iron Islands, daughter of Lawrence and Paula of House Crock. And even if you were, Lord Queen could legitimize you and we would be married within the fortnight." He paused, hesitant, before continuing. "You do want to marry me, right?"

"Of course I do," she admitted, her heart clenching again as she gripped the knitted quilt that covered her bed, "but you are the prince and I am little more than nothing. I would not be surprised if the High Septon did not allow it."

"I do not care about what the septons say, nor the gods old and new. You and I shall be married. I ruined you, and now the only course of action is a marriage. I will talk to my father right away." He put his clothes back on with purpose. Before he left he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

This was just like when they were children, she thought. She did something and he took the blame for it.

.x.

Lord Queen came to her bedchamber soon after. She had been waiting for this, sitting on her bed and pretending to work on her embroidery. His face was drawn, the way it was after he and Dinah fought, which meant that she had caused something to happen.

"Are you sure this is what you want," Oliver asked her, his voice more grim than she had heard it in years. She looked up from her stitches and finally saw him in the face. "You do know what this means, I pray. You will have to be queen. You will go down south, to court."

He hated court, hated the liars and pretenders, she knew. "I am sure. I love him, Oliver."

He sighed and sat down on her bed, putting an arm over her shoulder. "Your father will not be happy that I will be legitimizing you for this. He especially will not like the fact that you are marrying a man whose father defeated him during the rebellion."

Her spine stiffened as she thought of her father. She did not know him, but what she had heard was more than enough. Her own mother had begged for Lord Queen to take him away from her father, and that spoke volumes.

"I am a tiger," she said finally, because she was. Through and through just like her true family's words. "I will be able to withstand anything."

"And tear it with your claws if you cannot." Oliver gave her a wry smile. "I will legitimize you. You will be able to marry the prince. The king was against it, but Prince Wallace fought for you, and as did I." From the expression on Lord Oliver's face Artemis could imagine what exactly the king had said during that fight, but King Rudolph was not a bad man, and he would see that she did not do anything wrong. Not really.

Then should would be princess, and one day queen. The very idea sent shivers down her spine, but she could do it. She was a tiger, and she could sit beside the Iron Throne. Or on it if need be.

.x.

When the cloak finally settled around her shoulders she was sure that she had never been happier to feel weight there. She smiled up at Wallace—her husband—and then tried to wipe the look off her face. All of court was there, watching, and when she stood up the crown was heavy upon her head.

Artemis took strength in the man standing next to her, and the cloak on her shoulders. After years of fighting, she finally got something that she had desperately wanted.