- a twist on mushroom's account on sara snow and jacaerys velaryon's short lived love affair.
jacaerys, future heir to the iron throne, son of the realm's delight, rhaenyra targaryen, has travelled to winterfell to gain support for his mother fr...
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jacaerys:
Winterfell was awaiting his visit. Jacaerys knew he was approaching The North as soon as he felt the wind in his hair turn suddenly colder, as he was riding Vermax.
His mother had let him known about Cregan Stark and his accomplishments. It was a long way from King's Landing to The North, but news about the Lord of Winterfell traveled faster than the wind itself. Rhaenyra had reassured her firstborn that Cregan and him were close in age, and would get along well. Jacaerys was unsure of it, but he wasn't there to make friends, he was there to make allies and gain support for his mother's reign.
sara:
It was a particularly warmer day in the North, the sky was clear. It was unusual, to say the less. But Sara wasn't complaining. Hunting was best with this type of weather.
She ran out at the brink of dawn, so no one could see her leaving the castle. Dawn was the best time of the day for her. Most of the maesters hadn't awoken yet, farmers and land owners hadn't started cultivating, and hadn't left their properties, furthermore reason to leave as early as she did.
Sara rapidly put on a modest periwinkle dress that was easy to move in. Her sleeves were a little too long and incredibly wide, she'd almost forgotten that about it, but decided to not do anything about them, as she was running 'late'. She frantically looked around her room searching for her black cloak she used to go hunting with. Sara eventually found it and messily put it around her shoulders. Just before leaving her chambers, she quickly fetched her flatbow she once stole from her visit to King's Landing, and hid it under her cloak.
Sara quietly yet swiftly, closed the wooden door behind her, and tiptoed into the dark and lonely hallway, until she reached the narrow stone stairs that led to the back of the castle. Almost no one there used that way to get in or out of the castle, due to the fear that was originated by Sara's made-up scary stories that took place in those same stairs.
She continued to tiptoe until she was out and about, running gently towards the secret place she had built over the years in the forest.
Her hair beneath her cloak's hood had flown away in a matter of moments as she approached her getaway, where she stocked her arrows, supplies, some clothes and sometimes food. Sara would spend the entirety of her days in the woods, even when it was hysterically snowing.
When she first started to refuge in her little cabin — so to call it —, she was expecting the maidens to come and get her, forbid her to go anywhere near that slump for her own safety, or for someone to at least look for and find her. Neither of those things happened. Bittersweet, she thought, but after a few weeks, Sara would stop thinking about people's carelessness towards her and only focused on her archery skills.
