snow and stars| jon snow

iii: the stag touches the stars

   When the fifth note came, Andromeda was fourteen, and she was sparring with Hyperion, a regular thing. She had gotten quite good with an arrow with his help, and her sword work could use a little of that itself, but she was better than average. She only got better with time, and when her father would join in, she was humbled again.

    Her fake sword clashed with her Hyperion's, who was looking down at her with a grin on his mouth. He thought he was going to win. She stepped on his toe and kicked his shin, effectively laying him on his back. She put her sword to his throat, and he was looking up at her in a way that was certainly not amused.

   "You cheated," he said simply as he pushed himself up.

    "No, I won." She said, smirking at him. "Again?"

"No, cheater!" He laughed. "Go find Father, I'm sure that the Dornish Viper would love to fight. Or maybe he'd rather you sing for him."

   "Shut up, Hy." She remarked. "I'll find him, and I'll win again."

    "You're mighty confident after ten lessons." He said, laughing as she took off to find their father.

   Sadly, she ran into her mother before her father. She almost ran her over with her body because of her carelessness as she rang down the halls and sang an island tune, until she saw her body and the glint of her crown shining down, light beams hitting it nicely. "What are you doing, running around like that? You're a princess, child."

    "The boys run around and you say nothing." Andromeda protested, and her mother bent down to her level slowly to grip her chin, something she never did unless she had something grave to say. And it was usually never to her.

    "That's because men are lower than us." She said, a playful glint in her hard eyes, but her tone was still and serious. "You would be the queen before Hyperion would ever see the crown touch his head, do you know that?"

    "Yes, Mother. It's what separates us from Westeros." Her mother frowned.

   "Our gift, our politics, our way of life, and or honor sets us apart from Westeros." Her mother corrected. "Maybe if a woman sat on the Iron Throne, they would be like us."

     "I don't want to sit on any throne." The young girl said wistfully. "I just want to be a princess for the rest of my life. I don't want responsibilities, I don't want to do anything that involves the people. That's too many lives in my hand."

    Her mother suddenly got very serious. "You would do it if you needed to, correct?"

   "Of course, Mother." She said, nodding her head slowly. "That's the duty of a true princess, of a true woman."

"Correct." The Queen of Ilta stood, and she gingerly touched her daughter's head. "I love you, my child. Never forget that." She walked away, leaving her confused.

§

"He's not marrying Myrcella Baratheon!" Almost everyone in their royal hall was woken up by it, but most decided to sleep it off. Except for the youngest, little Andromeda. Anytime her mother was yelling was certainly for a good reason. "Saros is a Vela. He is a Vela, and he will not marry a Baratheon. I don't care if Stannis threatens to ruin this castle in the name of his brother, I don't care!"

"Shirina, be rational!" King Otineo shouted. "If you don't want to sail to Kings Landing to swear fealty, then you must marry our houses. There is no other way, this will be seen as active treason!"

"No, no." She said, and Andromeda could tell that the queen was pacing. "A Baratheon will not live in this keep, we do not keep stags." She said.