Stormbringer | Jon Snow

Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote this first as a one-shot (see Sprinting Fox: Unwritten for the chapter with an OC paired with Jon Snow) and thought I'd lost motivation for writing the fic, but now I've decided to take another dive in. This will be different than how the one-shot was originally written. As with my previous stories, I wanted to make a note about a few things. One, you can expect the usual Game of Thrones themes of abuse, miscarriage, traumatic childbirth, underage marriage, violence, incest, etc. Two, it will be depressing in many aspects and have a great deal of angst. Three, I am basing this off of the show. And four, as with my past fics, the main point is NOT necessarily the love story, it is about the growth of the character! Jon Snow is the intended love interest but the majority of the focus is on the OC's journey.

If you're still interested, go right ahead. For reference, the OC's face claim is Dominique Devenport. If you look up gifs from her role as Empress Elisabeth of Austria in the 2021 TV series 'Sisi', you'll see the image I have of her.

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Dragonstone, 299 AC

The sacrifices were underway.

Smoke from the beach sifted into the tower, carrying the smell of burning flesh. Its stench was almost unbearable, forcing its way through the small cracks in the tower window. The guard scrunched up her nose distastefully, leaning forward onto her spear and hoping the smell wouldn't wake the little girl curled up on the bed.

At the guard's feet, a lump of red gave a soft sigh, ears flicking at the sound of chants below, equally bothered by the procession. In the dim light a glow rose through the smoke, red and bright. Then, it began to dim. The fox could no longer sleep; she lifted herself up and nudged her forehead into the guard's palm, her owner smiling and beginning to caress the backs of her ears.

"She doesn't like it, either," whispered the girl on the bed.

The guard glanced her way. "You should be asleep."

"I cannot sleep," argued the girl. "Entertain me." She sat herself up, and the guard stood to offer her some water and began to light her candles and the fireplace anew. Observing her slow movements and glances at the window, the girl posed, "You wish you were down there with them."

The guard made a face again. "No, I don't. I've told you before, Princess, I don't believe in the Lord of Light. Grandfather taught me the Faith of the Seven in the hopes I'd become a Silent Sister or a septa, and even that escapes my fancy."

"I know that," said the little girl, watching the shadows ripple over her armor. "That wasn't why I said it. You want to be where the others are, where the Kingsguard is. Where my father is. But Uncle Erren won't let you."

With a sigh, she sat back in her chair and gave her cousin a nod. She was caught; no sense in continuing to walk around the truth. "I'd like to be in the Kingsguard. But bastards aren't allowed to do so." She pursed her lips bitterly, "I could protect you, your mother, and still your father if I was given the chance. I wish I was as smart as you. I'd stand a greater chance of rising above what I am, were I intelligent."

The Princess furrowed her brows. "You are smart." She pointed at her spear. "You know when your opponents will attack and how to stop them. You know how to read and write– that's more than the Onion Knight can do. I will teach him. If you think I'm smart, then Listen to the Clever and know you're clever, too."

The guard blushed. "You, Princess Shireen, will be the greatest Queen that Westeros has ever seen when we take the throne for your father. You are kind without bounds, intelligent to no end. I hope–" She winked teasingly, "That you will remember these simple moments with your lowly bastard cousin and one day deem me worthy of your Queensguard."