❝ i pray you survive us, m'lady. but be aware, nobility can get you killed in places like this. ❞
in which a young woman refuses to accept limitations, in spite of being told what she can't do.
GAME OF THRONES SEASON 1-8
COVER BY @goodhYOUman
FEM!OC...
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CHAPTER ELEVEN; BEING A NOBLE
Rey had tried her best to ignore all the stares she had received over the last week. It was no easy feat, as most were middle aged soldiers who hadn't bathed in months, sizing her up and down like she was a piece of meat. From her borrowed clothes to how she held herself, it was clear she was a highborn, but she bore no sigil but the ring on her finger and the necklace tucked into her dress. She didn't speak to anyone but Brienne and Catelyn, so no one had heard her Reach accent.
Still, she knew it was strange for a random noble to show up at camp in the middle of a war, leeching off of the Northern army's supplies without earning her share. She tried her best to help with duties such as fixing holes in clothing or feeding ravens, but she still drew unwanted attention to herself.
Catelyn had been difficult to talk to over the last few days, considering she and Robb had received the news that their home, Winterfell, had been captured by the Ironborn, and they didn't know the condition of the two youngest Stark boys, Bran and Rickon. Rey had tried to make herself useful by tending to Catelyn's every need, but she found it hard to console such a strong woman.
She heaved two empty buckets of horse feed back to the Riverrun stables, trying her best to avoid getting the bottom of Catelyn's dress muddy (she wasn't succeeding).
"What's your name, then?" a young man approached Rey with loud, heavy footsteps. The soldiers knew there was no one to protect her at the moment, seeing as their King had departed for Crag to accept a surrender and gather supplies. This, as well as the fact that the previously captive Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, had escaped.
Needless to say it had been far more chaotic here in the last four days than it had been in a year at Renly's camp.
Rey looked up in fright, slipping on the mud below her and falling onto her backside. She turned bright pink as the soldiers around her cackled, and she carefully pushed herself back to her feet, picking up the buckets. She glanced back at the soldier who had spoken. It was a man around twenty years older, with a full, unkempt beard and long, greyish hair. Immediately, she didn't like how close he stood to her.
"Aurelia," she muttered, taking a step back. He took one forward. A couple of others inched closer as well. She swallowed, before straightening her posture and clearing her throat. "Lady Aurelia."
"Lady Aurelia." Another ripple of laughter travelled through the group. They were moving further and further from any important tents, and further out of sight. The first soldier guffawed, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. "We said this one was fancy, didn't we? Lady, you say?Of what house?"
Deep breath. "House Marigot."
The soldier's face twisted in a sudden disgust. Before Rey could do anything, he grabbed her by the material of her collar, pulled her close and spat in her face. Rey dropped the bucks and felt bile rise in her throat. "House Marigot?"
