I dart up the long, winding staircase to my uncle's study. As I reach the last step, I trip on my skirts and tumble to the ground.
"Seven hells!" I curse loudly.
My hands break my fall, but mild pain hits my knees. I rise to my feet and walk the rest of the way to the study. As I reach the door, I smooth out my long, dark-brown hair and readjust my plum-coloured gown. I place my knuckles on the wooden door and deliver three sharp knocks.
"Enter," states a man's voice.
With a push, I open the heavy door. I take a seat opposite my uncle on a round table. Like most of Winterfell, the room is dark and aged with a balmy hearth burning away. No colour anywhere to be seen. Yet, I find it more comforting than King's Landing. It's like the truth, even though it may be bleak, it is candid and straightforward. In King's Landing, everything almost sickeningly vibrant and even if someone is telling the truth there, it is never the whole truth. My uncle is quite renowned for being an honest man, so I suppose the whole of the North reflects that.
"Hello, Little Fawn," he greets me.
I smile at the pet name. I don't remember exactly when I was first called "Little Fawn", but it must have been when I was quite young.
"You wanted to see me, Uncle?" I ask.
"Yes, I received a raven from the King this morning," he says, folding his hands on the table. "Your father."
I start adjusting my sleeve cuffs and diverting eye-contact.
"If I may, what did His Majesty want," I question, attempting to feign nonchalance.
"His Majesty summons you to King's Landing," he answers, a hint of trepidation in his tone.
I clench my jaw and lean back in my seat. "Why couldn't His Majesty ask me himself?"
As the daughter of Robert of House Baratheon and Lyanna of House Stark, my father is Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. However, they were betrothed to be wed when I was born so I'm considered a bastard. At the age of two, my mother was kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen which incited war. I was entrusted to my uncle's family in Winterfell until the war ceased. Many died in Robert's Rebellion, including my mother. When the war ended, my uncle returned home with a baby boy but my father never came back for me.
Since then, he has sent me letters and such, but I have not seen his person. I haven't even ventured outside of the North since I was small.
"I do not know, Little Fawn," Ned responds.
I let out an aggravated sigh. "How long do I have to reside there?"
"That I also do not know," he claims.
"I see no point on going," I say, stiffly. "Tell my father I deny his request."
Ned pinches the bridge of his nose. "He demands it."
I scowl at the reply and cross my arms.
He gives me a sympathetic smile. "I understand why you are angry with him. But he is your family and family is everything in this world. You can't trust many people, but you can always depend on your family."
I return his advice with a reluctant nod. I half-believe him.
"Now come here," my uncle beckons. "You will be cared for there and have lots to do."
I rise from my chair and walk over to him. He stands up and closes me into a tight embrace. As he lets go, he bends slightly until we are face-to-face. "You will be cared for there and have lots to do."
He strokes my face then straightens up. "Now, go play. I will notify your handmaiden to begin packing."
I head out to leave the study.
"I am sorry I interrupted you peaceful riding session," he apologises.
"That is okay, Uncle," I say, putting on a half-forced smile.
I open the door and walk out of the room. I canter down the stairs, holding my skirts, without tripping this time.
~
Edited as of 2019
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Little Fawn (Game of Thrones)
FanfictionRowenna Baratheon is the daughter of Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark. When her mother was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen, her father left her to Winterfell to live with her mother's brother and his family. Twelve years later, she still lives there...