Jojen Reed One Shots

Duty

(Writers Notes: Reader is noted as a stark and being a red head infitting with the book descriptions)

I remember feeling as though I had been frozen solid, every inch of me shivering uncontrollably. I was wearing the most exquisite gown, made of a luxurious grey fabric that was woven with delicate threads of silver. The gown's cloak was a masterpiece, embroidered with bright red leaves that represented the heart tree and the old gods of Winterfell, in honour of my father and the Starks. The branches of blue, symbolizing the rivers and streams of Riverrun, were a tribute to my mother and the Tullys. The cloak gracefully fell into the midst of the northern snowstorm.

The intricate braids and knots weaved throughout my red hair were adorned with tiny iron beads. Additionally, a stunning crown of blue winter roses sat delicately atop my head. As the snowflakes began to fall and float around me as if the world had stopped just for me.

I stood there, my hands began to tremble. It was a moment that I knew I would never forget. My father took my hand in his my skin felt the chill of his leather glove and the fur of his cloak, I didn't turn to look at him afraid if I did my face would simply give me away.

I didn't want this, not in the slightest. But I understood my duty to my family. So I did as my parents asked even if it broke me. My father began to lead me through the snowy godswood for a moment my feet refused to move, my father sighed a moment before his hand graced my cheek forcing me to see his war-torn face, my Y/e/C eyes stared up at him and suddenly I felt like a little girl asking to go up on his shoulders one last time. His eyes were weary and tired and suddenly I felt so spoilt, so childish. I tipped my head to bow to my lord father and a smile cracked across one side of his mouth, he pressed one final kiss to my forehead.

He then squeezed my hand and led me through the godswood.

My eyes were transfixed on the horizon as the sun began to set. The sky was a canvas of colors, with hues of orange and purple that blended seamlessly together, creating a breathtaking sight. The clouds appeared as if they were lit on fire by dragons, with the colours of the sky reflecting upon them and casting a warm glow. The snow clouds seemed to be dancing in the wind as if they were alive and celebrating. The ground was covered in weeks' worth of snow the ground below was frozen as hard as stone. The godswood filled with those I had known all my life in Winterfell, the path I walked with my father lined by staff and lords I had almost known like family all of them in their dark clothes and furs to keep out the cold each of them held a torch to fight away the night. I walked without a word, without a thought knowing if I started thinking about anything I would begin to cry.

My eyes caught the visiting royals the king and his family, they all seemed to look uninterested in the proceedings the younger children bored and shivering in the cold. The king however looked at me with a distance to his eyes but a smile on his lips, I had always thought of him as an uncle so I dipped my knees as I passed them and he nodded his head to me.

As we walked on I was met by my family and I tried not to cry, to do my best to save face for them, My eyes first met my bastard brother Jon who gave me a faint smile, trying to cheer me up. Then my older brother Rob who looked angry almost avoiding my eyes, was against all of this though I was still a child and far too young for all of this. My sister Sansa looked at me with sisterly joy but also a side eye, jealous of my dress and of my wedding in the godswoods as she would be married in the sept in Kings landing in a few years. My sister Arya looked up at me almost confused, seemingly angry but I knew why she didn't want this fate for me or herself even if I'm sure one day she may learn to accept the duty of a lady as I did. My brother Bran looked at me with a tremble to him he was old enough to understand these things to an extent and he knew there was nothing either of us could do to prevent it. And little Rickon stood crying into my mother's skirt, he was not old enough to understand all he knew was that I would be leaving and there was a good chance... he might never see me again, or if he did it would be years between visits.