The Lone Wolf (Myrcella Baratheon x Male Stark Reader)

Prolouge: Part One

I watched my younger brother Bran nock another arrow and let loose. A sigh escaped me as the arrow flew way over the intended target. My brothers however, couldn't help but laugh at Bran's skills. I didn't blame them of course. Afterall, I've been trying to help Bran all this time and felt the sickness of failure.

Bran was my younger brother. He had a tendency to climb and explore. Although, mother hated the idea of his hobbies, I couldn't help but admire them. Most would cower away from climbing tall buildings, yet my brother makes it seem so easy. As if he were solving a riddle.

Rickon was my youngest brother and the youngest of us Stark children. I did find him annoying on occasions but then again he was just a child. Mother usually tutted over little Rickon. While everyone treated him like he was a kid. I never did. He will learn some of these lessons some day. Why not now ?

Sansa was my older sister and I never had any regret more than saying those words. She was too naive and rude to people beneath her. If I hear her mention 'Princes and Knights' one more time she wouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff anymore.

Robb and Jon were my oldest brothers. They were both my favorites. Besides Arya of course. They always helped me with dealing with Arya and helped me train everyday! They were really cool.

Finally, my favorite sibling was Arya. My twin sister. Gods, we did everything together. From building to secretly training each other. Seven Hells, even pranking Sansa is the best. Me and Arya shared everything with each other. Even food. We are inseperable. At least when we don't have teachers running about.

"Which one of you was a marksman at ten ?," I heard a voice boom.

I look up to see the eyes of my father. Ned Stark. His icy cold gaze boring into the skulls of our own. The laughter of my brothers quickly diminished into silence at father's gaze. Everytime I see father I am reminded of the rumors spread about My Father, Mother and I.

Long ago, I was only a couple of namedays after I was born, a rumor had spread that I was actually a Lannister instead of a Stark. Of course the rumor proved to be false in many ways but that didn't mean it did not hurt our family a bit. My mother reproclaiming her love to convince my father who knows she did nothing wrong. Her lashing out about his lechery with Jon's mother. The fights and unresolved issues were just too much.

I was interrupted from my musings by an arrow slamming into the bullseye. I stared at the crafted wooden arrow and looked behind me to see none other then my sister Arya do a curtsey. Our laughter grew with mirth filled in our bellies. My laughter wasn't boisterous or obnoxiously loud. However, it wasn't totally quiet either.

I looked up to see my fathers reaction, only to see Ser Rodrik standing with Theon Greyjoy speaking with my father. By his face going solemn, I knewn it had to be something bad.

I caught the eyes of Theon and my stomach tried hard not to flop. Theon to me was just someone who acted out. A bully of sorts. He was so angry and insecure that he would pick on lower classmen. It was a rotten thing to do. Nonetheless, I was told to treat him as one of our own. Which is what I will do. For now.

______________________________________

Grass stretched far and wide around us. A mist blanketing the sweet grass with an omnious feeling. Followed by a cool breeze that rolled across my skin. At least, whatever skin that was uncovered by the wool and cloth that us Starks decided to wear on this journey.

I stared at the deserter. His skin was dirty with mud that had dried upon his face. His lips chapped and dried with no reverence of water or any means to relieve his dehydration. Streams of his hair matted to his forehead with sweat and grime. The thing that caught me the most was his eyes. His hazel eyes shone with an unimaginable fear. Strangely, it wasn't fear of his death but visual fear. Like a boy seeing something he shouldn't have.

I distinctively heard the conversation of my father and the deserter. However, I did not pay attention. My mind was grasped on this fear the man held. Where did it come from ? What did he see ?

After his execution, I sat upon my horse with upmost curiousity. Could it be wildlings ? Or Freefolk as they say ? I learned that from a man who was executed by my father. It was the first execution I witnessed. The Wildling was calm until Father referenced him as a Wildling. The man lunged at him screaming about him being a Freefolk. It frightened me as a child but I knew that in order for me to be a knight. A protector. I would need to do lots of that.

That was my dream. Like many I am sure but I knew I would be one. At first I wanted to be king. I wanted to sit with royal robes and enchamting meals. I knew that notion has a high chance of failing. Over time I came over my obsession of true royalty and more into being a knight or fighter. I also did something that other people could not do. Read. I read so much that I practically read through the entire Citadel. Maybe that's what I should do if I make it to old age. Crawl to the citadel and read what I can before succumbing to my frailness. I guess that's how I would truly want to die.

My eyes stared out across the land and I went further down into my hole of thought. I want my own land. Land that is mine for my family. Of course, I have Winterfell but anyone can appear and with the army just take it. I want something thats impossible to take from my grasp. Something that i can truly have as my own without siblings popping up and claiming to be the next in line. I know it's a selfish thought but it's something I want. I dont feel anybody has rule over anybody. Everybody has freedom. That word Freedom. It meant so much to me. Deep down it was what I wanted.

"(Y/N)!," My father boomed. I crained my neck over my shoulder to see him looking at me with an unwavering stare. His eyes were a soft gret but had the ability to become cold and black at any moment.

"Coming father," I said. Turning my horse around and galloping towards the group.

______________________________________

I watched observantly from my horse as my father, Jon and Theon Greyjoy walked towards a butchered deer. The deer had it's eyes closed with it's tongue sticking out restfully. Specs of dirt and hay laying around his body. Flies and maggots started too appear. It's guts laid out innocently. The blood was dried and it's smell was stomach churning. Nevetheless, I fought the urge to puke and went with my father. Who decided to investigate.

With my brothers, Theon, and Jory Cassel, we followed my father. Ser Rodrik decided to stay behind. I carefully eased off my horse and walked with the group of boys and men.

We walked down a hillside, Bran and Theon behind me. I nearly gasped at the sight I saw. Resting at my father's feet was a dead direwolf. Our house sigil. An antler lodged in it's throat. Does this mean...the Baratheons will be the death of us ? I had to be on guard if I saw one.

"It's a freak!," Theon said confidently. I turned to glare at him with a fiery passion. He always asked for a beating.

"It's a direwolf," my father announced. He stood up and said something inaudible to my ears. My full attention diverted back to the direwolf. Muffled arguments about the found pups of the direwolf's fate rang briefly but I still didn't move. I know that this wasn't pure luck. This was a sign. But why ? When ?

"....You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves and if they die you will bury them yourselves," Father said. His eyes turned to my stone cold look at the dead direwolf.

"(Y/N) are you alright ?," he softly asked. He bent down to one knee. Gently with his finger, he directed my chin to him. My eyes meeting his. I gulped in my thoughts to give him a satisfying response.

"Aye father I am," I said.

Although my father nodded and stood, I knew he didn't believe me. I stared off after my father and sighed. I loved my father to death. Sometimes however, he scared me.

Suddenly, a direwolf was shoved into my chest by Theon. I looked into my arms too see an all black pup with grey eyes. His eyes spoke courage, knowledge, and power. However, mercy also swimmed in those grey orbs.  That should be his name.

"Mercy,"I said,"Your name is Mercy."