i. the north remembers

1.2K 56 17
                                        

───※ ·🐺· ※───

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

───※ ·🐺· ※───

chapter one, the north remembers

THE SNOWFLAKES COATED her dark lashes as her gray mare led her outside of the gates of her family's home. She had one destination in mind as the sun crept up on the countryside. Orange and pink littered the sky, making the snow sparkle in the early morning. The cold bit at her cheeks, her tanned skin flushing red as her cloak did its best to cover her as she rode away.

The godswood wasn't far from the comfort of her home, it was built into the walls of Winterfell, her ancestors recognizing the sanctity of the holy place. Although she loved the great hall and the people in Winterfell, she desperately sought peace that could only be found in a place such as this. A peace she most likely would never get again.

On the morrow, she would make the tiring journey down to King's Landing. The fateful day had come, she was now eight and ten, of age to marry the prince. The age that her late father had once agreed to.

She was no longer a naive little girl, instead she was a girl grown. Her eyes were no longer filled with joy and hope, but instead coated with steel and ice. The eight years she had spent engaged were hard on her, she had lost far too much.

Her own father, the once great warden of the north, had passed away two years after their trip to the south. A sickness it was, a grand sickness that swept the north during a particularly long and brutal winter.

Her father never recovered. How strange and cruel it was, the great Rickon Stark felled by something as simple as a fever.

Ever since then, her older brother had been the warden of the north. He was so young when he came into power, no older than six and ten. A small few believed that the young lord was not ready for the responsibility that the north required from its warden. There was a great fight over his succession, one that did not come without bloodshed. Kin fought kin as their uncle tried to take the lordship from her brother.

But the rest of the north knew their allegiance to the rightful heir, the north remembered their own oath and helped fight against the small munity. Now, Cregan was a good lord, one that all in the north respected, regardless of his age.

Not only was Cregan now her lord, but he also became her protector after the death of their father. He made arrangements to continue her training when he could no longer be her teacher and he ensured that her schooling was still enough to uphold the agreement between their late father and the king.

Her brother had hardened quickly with the weight of his responsibilities, no longer a boy, but instead a man.

Her mother was a shell of herself for a while, but nothing could tear the spark from the Dornish woman. She was a southerner, wrapped in northern furs. She would survive and would guide her son in Winterfell as long as he should need.

the prophecy → jacaerys velaryonWhere stories live. Discover now