✳︎Where the prophesized threat from the north comes in the form of a young girl.✳︎
A retelling of House of the Dragon based on A Song Of Ice and Fire.
OCxDaemonTargaryenx???
Current Status- ON HOLD.
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HER ARRIVAL CAME AMIDST A STORM.
In her possession was a necklace, bound together on her neck by leather, a wooden chest with clothes and trinkets, and two cages.
Her thin dress was not suited for the harsh cold winters of Winterfell. She came from a land of scalding heat, opposite of where she was currently situated.
Ambrosia Callisto, the first of her name, was born from fire. Not in a literal sense, but she was born with a burning heart and incandescent ambition. She was the bastard daughter of Rickon Stark, the product of a fleeting love between two star-crossed lovers.
She did not know Rickon Stark well. Neither did he of her. Ambrosia was not supposed to exist and because of this, he neglected the fact he had a daughter, keeping her a secret. And although Ambrosia did not pay it much mind, she hated the position she was currently in.
Ambrosia kept her eyes fixated on the fire, keeping count on each time the wood chips would spark, trying to ignore the screams of Lady Gilliane. Gilliane Glover was her father's wife, and she did not take well to the news of her husband's bastard daughter.
"You sly cunt. I did not care about the unfaithfulness but having a daughter and not informing me...That is low, even for you Rickon Stark." Lady Gilliane was beet red as she tried to withhold her anger.
Ambrosia was rapidly approaching irritation with her screaming, wanting nothing more than to shove the burning wood pieces down Lady Gilliane's obnoxious mouth. She got up from her seat, clasping her jittery hands behind her back.
"Deeds have been done Lady Gilliane. Best if we put our differences aside and act civil towards one another. After all, we are family, aren't we father?" Ambrosia met her father's eyes, awaiting his response with a small smile gracing her lips.
Rickon Stark glanced at his wife nervously, who was burning with rage. Ambrosia had quickly learned Lady Gilliane was short-tempered and Ambrosia had managed to push all her limits in the short while since she got there. Lady Gilliane already detested Ambrosia and although she did not mind it, Ambrosia was sharp-tongued and would not entertain Lady Gilliane's childish behavior. She knew that even though the Starks were best known for their loyalty, the Stark men had a tendency for bearing bastards. She knew the man she married.
Rickon Stark sighed, sat at the head of the table, poured himself a cup of wine, and took a sip. The silence was uncomfortable, and Ambrosia could not help but feel as if she had overstepped certain boundaries. After all, she had arrived unannounced and had made a fool of her kind father and his wife in the short time she had been here. But alas she knew nothing would excuse Rickon Stark for being a shit father, for abandoning her mother when she needed him the most. Now he had to come face to face with the results of his conscious decisions. Even if these results came with great responsibilities.
Rickon Stark took a final drink from the goblet before speaking, "Wife, these matters are best discussed in private, for now, we welcome Ambrosia with no hesitation."
"She is my daughter and will be treated as so with no opposition." Lady Gilliane clenched her fist trying not to scream obscenities towards her husband and Ambrosia hallucinated for a second that literal smoke was escaping from her ears. Lady Gilliane did not favor the fact that her husband's bastard had more standing in Winterfell, for Lady Gilliane had not yet delivered a male heir to Rickon Stark.
"Now that matters have been resolved, can I be shown to my room?" Rickon ran his right hand through his hair, seemingly exhausted from everything that had transpired.
"Val will show you to your room, he is right outside the hall."
She gave a curt nod to her father and left the main hall, not giving as much as a glance towards Lady Gilliane.
Val had spotted her first and Ambrosia was grateful they had spent the walk towards her room in silence. She had no desire to speak, and the cold was quickly numbing her lips. They arrived at her room and when she turned to give thanks, Val was already gone. She opened the door, slipping inside and locking it. On her bed lay her wooden chest and at the foot of the bed frame, lay two cages.
She walked towards them, quickly unlocking the doors, and opening them. From each cage emerged one dragon, flapping their wings in excitement to see their mother.
Merith and Tagor were two and three, Merith being the oldest of the two. Her only she-dragon, Merith was hatched when Ambrosia turned ten and five. Merith and Tagor were said to have been laid by the same dragon. Saphira belonged to Tatiana Callisto, Ambrosia's mother. Saphira was old, having been mounted by Tatiana's grandmother, great-grandmother, and two generations before that. She was said to be three hundred years old, making her the oldest dragon in existence.
Ambrosia watched as Merith and Tagor settled at the foot of the bed, and she quickly joined them. She wrapped herself in the warm furs and the duvet, trying to keep the cold winter air out. She watched as her dragons nipped at each other's wings, fighting over who got the spot closest to their mother. She scolded them and they quickly settled down, deciding for each to lay on either side of her.
As she slowly closed her eyes, falling slightly asleep, she could hear a distant howl.
