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Chapter Text

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“You’ve heard the songs of ice and fire. The prophecies that sired many wars, both civil and foreign. But you’ve never heard the songs of land and sea that merged the powers of magic and sovereignty.”

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Chapter 1: Rising from the ashes

The mix of salt and ash blistered the young girl’s skin, more than the unforgiving sun.

And yet, the girl remained strong, never wavered from her stance. A dagger, too large for her hands, was tightly gripped until her knuckles were white. A steady hold. No trembling hands. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest; she could’ve sworn the man she held onto felt it as well.

But the cursing pirate she held at knifepoint wasn’t who grabbed her attention. It was the man standing before her. He only had one eye. The other one gouged; scarred from an animal attack—or worse, a person. He was thin in build—effeminate appearance but he had an air of importance to him. 

And this is why the little girl watched him—unblinkingly.

The pirate tried to move again. He was much larger, could easily overpower her, but, every time he moved, the blade sliced deeper into his throat. “Silco.”

The girl briefly looked down at him while he spoke.

“Kill her now! She killed three of your men!”

‘Silco’ was his name. 

Recognizable across all the Narrow Sea, Silco slowly stepped forward and knelt until he was eye level with the girl. “If the men were killed by a small child, they didn’t deserve to be on my ship. And this girl did me a favor by weeding out the weak.”

The girl frowned at the honest words spoken by this deadly pirate. She faltered and her grip loosen—the man spring forward holding his throat to prevent any further bleeding.

Silco observed her. Seeing the ‘ bravery’ reflected in those not-so-innocent eyes. Foolishness and utter stupidity, he thought. Instead of trying to reach for her weapon, he reached behind him and pulled out a skin from his satchel and held it out for the girl.

“Here. For your troubles.”

She never moved.

Instead of being offended, Silco smiled. Cold, sickly, lacked any warmth a parent would have. He looked deeply into her eyes and his sadistic smile only grew by the second. “I can recognize those eyes anywhere.”

Before the girl could move, Silco’s movement was impossibly quick. He had the girl’s arm in a tight grip. “A wolf does not belong on the sea.” 

The girl began to panic. “Arrgh!” Desperately trying to move again, but the man’s grip was too great to overcome. 

Silco kept his hold firm. “Fear not, little girl. I’m not going to harm you.”

Exhausted from her previous struggles, the girl went limp and glared at the man.

Silco took the knife from the child and let her go. Slowly rising to stand. He nodded for one of his men to get her. It happened to be a large woman who reached down and grabbed the girl by the throat and lifted her.

“Don’t hurt her! She’s a valuable stowaway. Help her get washed up. It’s a miracle she’s survived this long out here. And send a raven to Winterfell immediately.” Silco looked the girl in the eyes one last time before saying. “I’m going to take you home, Violet Stark.”

A woman woke up to the sound of screaming.

The thick castle walls created an otherworldly echo of torture. She stared at the strange walls, hoping to remember where she was. She reached over to the other side of the bed and met only her colleague’s bare chest; still slumbering peacefully. The woman sat up with a gasp at another scream, clutching the silk sheets around her.

“My lady,” she called out into the large royal bedroom.

The red woman was awake. Dressed in her usual red gown, staring into the furnace of the burning fire. The red woman was staring intently as though listening to another voice speak to her. The sunset seer (witch) as the crowds would call her, but she was beautiful as she was kind. A great lover in bed, but studious in her beliefs.

“My lady,” the whore called out once more and was yet again ignored. She flinched when another scream reverberated through her very bones. “Lady Sun, do you hear me?!”

The harlot stumbled out of bed and approached the red woman, still listening to the flames. She hugged the woman from behind, seeking comfort—seeking pleasure to calm her rising fear. She tightened her hold when she felt the red priestess relax, suddenly aware of where she was and who was with her.

Warm soft hands covered the whores. “You’re awake, Anne,” the priestess whispered.

“I heard screaming,” the whore replied, voice shaking from the sounds.

At these words, Lady Sun’s attention snapped to the whore. Anne, a woman with a young face, stared into the priestess’ eyes watching the deep brown fade into a hazel, then a deep red. Those eyes were searching for something. 

“You hear them?” the lady asked, nodding towards the furnace. “What god do you serve?”

Anne shrugged. “I never grew up with a religious family, only what the men or women tell me when we fuck.”

Lady Sunset’s demeanor hardened. “The Lord of Light chooses right. What do you see in the flames, my dear?”

Anne was surprised to be addressed this way. To be asked of her own opinion that wasn’t about getting on her knees and opening her mouth. 

The red priestess ushered her closer. “Don’t be afraid. Tell me everything. Leave no details out.”

Anne only wanted to return to bed in Lady Sun’s arms and embrace. But she knew, if she lied, the red priestess would know. So she stared into the flames. Watching the embers float from the blackened stone. Darkening them more, leaving their ash behind. It felt like a second hand reaching into her head.

“I see…” she began in a whisper, “...a young dog, but bigger?”

“A wolf?” Lady Sunset supplied.

“Y-yes, sorry. I–” the whore swallowed thickly and continued to stare into the fire. “It’s a small baby wolf. He’s drowning in waves. I don’t know—how am I seeing these things?” Anne turned to face the red priestess for answers. “Who is the Lord of Light?”

“Keep watching!” Lady Sunset urged her closer. “Tell me more.”

Anne’s heart was pounding with fear. “Do you see these as well?”

“I see only what the Lord allows me to see. Now tell me more.”

Anne stared into the fires, already hating and fearing the images she was seeing. “He’s drowning, I don’t—There’s a creature holding onto him. It’s burning him from the inside. He’s—dying. He’s… I—the wolf is dead.”

The red priestess clicked her tongue and rushed to the side of the room. “Lord Stark is going to lose a son. I need to send a raven.”

The red priestess was furiously writing a note. Secret and in code. She whispered a few words to the parchment and watched as the words disappeared. Ink hiding from everyone who isn’t Lord Stark. She tied it to a raven and let him loose. “I need to leave. I have to speak with King Rhaegar and his council.”

Lady Sun was forgetting to put on footwear and was rushing to leave when Anne made a small noise of surprise. “How beautiful!”

The red priestess froze at the door and quickly faced the whore. “What did you say? Are you still seeing something?”

Anne slowly nodded, hugging the sheets tighter around her naked body. “There’s a younger wolf that crawled out of its ashes before she turned to ice.”

Lady Sunset scowled and closed the door, appearing thoughtful. “The bastard of the north was found at last. Enjoy the wine. I must leave you.”

The red priestess rushed out of the room and down the narrow hall. She followed the dim-lit pathway towards the opposite point of the castle. There were no guards, no decorations to resemble the power of House Targaryen. She approached the wooden door and knocked once before opening it.

“Maester Viktor.”

There was a wilted young -looking man slumped over his desk. He turned his head before sitting up in alert when he noticed who was at his door. “Lady Sunset, I wasn’t expecting company. Apologies for my state of undress.”

Truly he was in his underwear, shirtless and working hard at his desk while there was a man and a whore asleep on his bed.

This didn’t bother the red priestess in the slightest. “And I wasn’t expecting old prophecies to come true.” She handed him the note. “Read this carefully and send a raven to Lord Stark.

He quickly grabbed the note. “Yes, of course.”

This little princess grunted as she dragged the heavy chair towards the bookshelf. “Goodness!” She used a stool to reach the higher books on the shelf. Her favorite history recount of Queen Rhaenrys. The queen that won the hearts of men and served the realm with an iron heart. 

She tip-toed towards the tallest shelf of books, the stool beneath her wobbled with her weight. 

"Be careful, Princess!" A feminine voice called out from the shadows. "Wouldn't want the heir of Piltover to shatter a bone over an ugly book."

A beautiful woman stepped forward and the princess recognized her as the priestess who aided her mother on the march.

The young 10-year-old Princess Caitlyn looked over her shoulder and smirked. "And what of it, lady Mary?"

The red priestess bit her tongue from correcting the princess yet again. Lady Maria from the Lands of Volantis. From the heart of Essos. Serving the Kiramman family for the past two generations of matriarchal reign. Currently, Queen Cassandra of the providential lands of Piltover. The plains of Westeros they call it. The graveyard, where magic went to die, another saying from across the narrow sea.

The lands where the flames of dragons were forever silenced.

House Kiramman became its own sovereign nation, recognized throughout all of Westeros. Even the wardens of the North, who once kneeled to the Targaryens (pressured, more likely), now willingly serve House Kiramman. The Piltovian Hills near the Barrowlands where King’s Road goes straight through. Now, curved more east to not travel through their lands.

House Stark and their bannerman were loyal to the very end.

“As you’re to be the future queen of Piltover, I must strongly advise caution, Princess.” Lady Maria stepped closer and even reached out to offer a hand to the heiress.

Caitlyn scoffed and ignored the priestess. “Caution is for cowards. I wish to be equally fearless and loved by my people. We do not kneel nor do we listen to the men beneath us.”

“Am I beneath you, little princess?”

Caitlyn lifted a brow and laughed softly. “Never, Lady Maria. You stand with us on equal ground.”

Lady Maria seemed pleased with this knowledge. “Then, as your ‘equal’, I advise caution, Princess Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn smirked and slowly descended the old creaky ladder. “Well played, Lady Maria. You’d be perfect as an advisor when I’m officially on the council for the queen.”

“You’d be wise to adhere to the council for your own regard, my princess. Wisdom doesn’t always provide; she listens as well.” The red priestess stilled for a moment before slowly turning to face the small fires.

Her attention was split.

Lady Caitlyn nodded, hardly noticing. “Thank you. Shall we have a stroll down in the gardens and read together?”

“I must politely decline, my princess. I am required elsewhere.” Lady Maria stared into the flames of Princess Caitlyn’s small fireplace. “I’ll send in your handmaidens, young princess.”

The red priestess quickly left the library, an urgency in her walk.

Caitlyn thought nothing of it, taking the large book with her, she slowly made her way towards her back gardens and her favorite weirwood tree. Elora, her favorite handmaiden, accompanied Princess Caitlyn on her walk. A young teen who also served their wardens from the east, House Medarda.

Elora Flowers (a bastard’s surname), a natural daughter (baseborn for the commoners) held no contempt for the families she worked for. She was wise after having spent a few years growing up alongside Lady Mel—a war general’s daughter.

Princess Caitlyn greatly enjoyed the stories Elora would share with her. They sat under the shade of the weirwood tree while Caitlyn read aloud the history of Queen Rhaenyra. Caitlyn thumbed through the pages, carefully reading the stories she could recite by memory.

“She had a ‘strangeness’ to her, did she not?” the princess inquired.

Elora was leaning over, reading through the same scripts. “And what do you mean by that?”

Caitlyn bit her lip. “Did she—favor women the way she favored men?”

Elora shrugged. “The texts wouldn’t write that down. Not for highborns. It’s—ungodly.”

“For which gods?”

“What do you mean, ‘which Gods?” Elora arched her brow in wonder. “You question them?”

“Curious, more like.”

“Hm.” Her handmaiden hummed in thought. “I assume all of them, Princess.”

Princess Caitlyn didn’t like that answer. “Which gods protect the children while they starve, let the wars destroy homesteads, allow corrupted kings to rule with an iron first, yet forbid honest love such as this?”

Elora’s jaw tightened. “Do not let your mother hear this from you.”

Caitlyn glared at her handmaiden. “My mother would be proved wrong once I’m queen. Love is not a sin, but a cherished jewel.”

“I’m not against you, Princess Caitlyn.” Elora gently whispered. “But the hearts of men are closed to the desires of women.”

Caitlyn scowled. “And I’m to marry a man of great honor. Perhaps he will understand my heart is only for—,” she trailed when she saw the guards trailing after the King. “Father?”

Both girls quickly stood up as King Consort Tobias rushed to the Princess’s side. He looked worried. “My dear Caitlyn, it’s—” he was holding a small parchment. Hand trembling. “It’s Bran Stark. There’s been a terrible battle. He’s been lost at sea.”

Was it ungodly to feel relief in that hour?

The young princess held the book to her chest. ‘Fire and Blood’, a dramatic retelling of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Caitlyn used this to gather strength from the strong historical women she reads about.

Princess Caitlyn followed her father and the guards towards the Queen’s Hall. There was a stillness over the castle that Caitlyn knew always followed death. But grief had yet to follow. She had not known this boy—a young man more like—met him only once when Lord Stark pledged his bannerman to Queen Cassandra. And they both chose to join their houses through their children. Betrothed in the Light of the Seven, Princess Caitlyn had not even known what love truly was until it was expected of her to continue her house’s Great Name.

Caitlyn stood next to the queen while Cassandra was writing a letter to Lord Stark. “He was too young, he was foolish, he was arrogant—he should’ve waited for his uncle to aid him!” The queen sounded more exhausted than angry. “And now Lord Vander’s hold on the north is tested by salt and fire. Any word on the Greyjoys?”

Lord Commander Grayson silently shook her head and looked to the warlord sitting across from her. 

Lord Ambessa Medarda. The larger woman sighed and faced the queen. “They remained on their shores. Fucking around with Bear island. This was not them.”

Lord Salo, a trust advisor for the queen, spoke up. “House Velaryon is the only name left with a fleet large enough to drown the wolves of the north, Your Grace.”

Queen Cassandra shook her head. “They had an unspoken understanding with House Stark.”

“An ‘unspoken’ understanding is not a written truce, Your Grace,” Lord Commander Grayson solemnly pointed out. “Armies will walk fine lines of paid loyalty. But even then–”

“I will not start a war over a misunderstanding between two houses.” Queen Cassandra began writing on her parchment once again.

“I agree, Your Grace.” Lord Medarda nodded. “War is a last resort. Not a common solution.”

Princess Caitlyn was greatly composed as a true lady would, watching the queen slam her ink feather on the parchment for every word she spoke. The princess remained silent until she was spoken to.

The King Consort chose to speak for her. Tobias was sitting at his wife’s side. “To bring our attention back to the matter at hand, Your Grace, we should visit House Stark for the funeral. Perhaps, Lord Stark has another son for our daughter.”

Queen Cassandra dropped her pen and covered her face. “It’s not that at all, my dear. Our daughter was much too young for him anyway. I feel—a great relief for her.”

Caitlyn exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath. At least, her mother knew and spoke her heart.

“We’ll ride to Winterfell in three months' time. Let them grieve for their son before we show ourselves. Now is not the time to prove and chase loyalty. The Starks are an honorable House.” Cassandra finally looked at her daughter, smiling grimly. “Off to bed, Caitlyn. These other matters do not concern you, yet.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Princess Caitlyn curtsied before allowing the knights to escort to her bedroom, where she crawled under her sheets and stared out the open window. She clutched an amulet close to herself, whispering another prayer to whoever was listening.

“Forgive me for hoping—to be alone in life.” Caitlyn’s heart hurt and felt broken. “I don’t want to be a queen. I simply want to live and not have to worry about marriage to whomever they may be.”

Violet stared out at the sea; something that had always been a comfort for as long as she remembered.

The rocking of the waves against even the strongest ships felt more at home than when she stepped foot on the ground. Nothing about this feeling felt safe.

Even though she was named as a highborn bastard. Her hair had been washed, her clothes were clean (borrowed yet newer than anything she's ever worn), and her face was stoic. She stood on the docks as though wishing to disappear within the very waves that took her mother. A nameless angel, Violet thought to herself, as she remembered just 'who' her mother was.

Present, and always there. The strongest symbol of resistance was from the woman who held Violet’s hand—even when facing her own toughest battles, made sure her daughter was safe. ‘Worry not for me, my little flower.’ A woman with long darkened hair smiled down at Violet. ‘The gods will recognize your name and your bravery.’

And Vi knew who her mother wasn’t.

Was Vi lucky to have been found at all? Or will this new family remind this child just how cruel the world could be to simple commoners trying to live in a world where love is dead?

“Girl,” a deep voice called out to her.

Violet remained posted and still, ignoring him.

His armor clinked with his movement, and when he stepped closer, Violet could tell this man was of great importance. A Lord Commander with a dark cloak and a great house’s sigil proudly displayed: House Stark. The great direwolf mocked the waters that Violet grew up in.

“My name is Hoam. Lord Commander Hoam Lee of House Badger. I serve Lord Stark. I’ve sworn my life to him. He’s a great and honest man.”

Violet hadn’t realized she was crying until the watery sunset became impossible to see clearly. Her young heart wept for her mother. It had been years since her mother passed onto the next life and yet, the black waters and its brilliant sunsets kept her mother’s spirit alive after all these years. 

She mourned her mother all over again at the next words the Lord Commander uttered.

“Your father would love to meet you.”

Violet closed her eyes and wished the god of the sea would take her home with her mother. That they will no longer be strangers . 

Where was her father during the last 11 years of her life?

Violet’s spirit felt wilted, having given up.

Father,

Mother,

…maiden.

…Stranger.

Violet’s lips trembled.

Has death been the only family she’s had these past few years? Never a ‘Stranger’ but an old common friend while the others were no better than the faces of the Seven.

The Lord Commander’s hand felt heavy on her shoulder, but it was a comfort that Violet couldn’t quite name.  She allowed the man to gently usher her back towards horses and the army of men who knew her father more than she had. She tried to keep her head down, but curiosity won out.

She’s never seen an army as great as this one.

The only ones Violet knew were the men aboard the ships. Forever sailing the waters across the seas. The faces that looked upon her were young and old. All men, or even boys just barely older than she was. Was the north hurting for warriors?

Many didn’t even know how to react to her and chose to ignore Violet instead. Good. For she had no idea how vast her life was about to change. Violet took one final glance at the shimmering waters and whispered a prayer for her mother.

The road was long and boring.

And the air smelt—refreshing. It was unusual how quickly it put little Violet at ease even in these strange lands. A brand-new country. It felt… safe. But Violet knew the semblance of safety with a grave price.

Her boots hit the grass and she marveled at the sensation. Wiggling her toes in her boat and she smiled. She wondered if her mother remembered what grass felt like. 

Rough fingers grabbing her chin, forcing Violet to look up and shatter that ‘safety’ feeling. Violet remained still as she still stared into the eyes of Sevika.

She turned Violet’s head to the left, then to the right. She ruffled the girl’s hair before humming in approval. “He’s expecting you. You’ll address him as Lord Stark and nothing else unless he gives you permission to.”

Vi never blinked or made a reaction.

Sevika accepted this and let go. “Welcome to Winterfell, bastard.”

She stepped aside and Violet was finally seeing the large castle for the first time. They were inside the walls and the commoners (the ones she was most used to) paid her no attention and went about their ways as though Winterfell received guests on the regular. 

Violet saw the little girl first before the larger man behind her. A young girl (no older than 6) was perched up on a young teen boy’s shoulder. He felt familiar in a way Violet couldn’t explain. But she could recognize the Starks anywhere.

Perhaps she was one of them.

And then he came. Slowly—cautiously. A tall and large man approached Violet. He took one good at her and spoke. “The gods were kind on this one.”

Violet felt that familiar caution in her heart. She knew deep down, this man was not her father, nor will he ever have the privilege to be so. But who was she to deny his claim on her? “Hello, Lord Stark.” She whispered, remembering her place.

The Warden of the North remained stoic before nodding to the women beside him and walked away without another word.

Chapter Text

[5 years later]

The first signs of winter turned out to be the worst.

Vi was a Northman by blood, but she was raised by the Narrow Sea. A bastard of the north. But her heart belonged to the black waters, where the winds of salt and ash welcomed her like an old friend, and not of this chill that burrowed deep into her bones, settling an eternal storm of snow. Endless shivers, cracking of skins without proper oils, and the promise of a quick and painful death.

Violet Snow was her name. Vi, she preferred.

Her new name.

A harlot for a mother (so she’s been told) and a father that knew of her existence, but never made the effort to know her until now. She had highborn half siblings, half-brothers who couldn’t fight for shit.

Bran Stark, a brother who was killed in a battle against the Velaryon fleet the very day Violet was found.

Nathar, another older brother who kept to himself, focused on his studies (as he was the new heir to Winterfell), and had a very close relationship with Powder, her only sister.

Cregan was closer to Vi’s age, and the twins Dywen and Eddard (the youngest sons to Lord Stark) were the babies of the family, younger than little Powder. They would watch Vi effortlessly sneak around Winterfell and the castle grounds. Powder loved the way Vi was able to fight on her own. Wield a blade of any kind and use it to her own advantage. It came to the point where Vi noticed all the siblings looked up to her.

Except Nathar, who was always with Lord Stark: The Hound of the North.

But it was perfect, it allowed the sisters to bond over—well,

Vi ducked the blade just as it swung where her head would’ve been. “Ugh!” She rolled to her feet and adjusted the one-handed weapon in her dominant hand. “Too slow!”

Lady Powder Stark, her half-sister, wore a determined glare. Grunting while she adjusts the weight of the wooden sword with both hands. “You move too fast! How will I ever strike you?”

Vi laughed breathlessly. “By getting better. Don’t look at my feet, look at my chest.” Vi pointed towards her leather armor and the Stark sigil on the front. “Here. A good swordsman leads by deception and— argh! ” Vi stumbled forward from a hard shove.

She spun around, lowering her gait, and struck the boy on his kneecap before punching him in the face, “You little rat! You finally come out of your hole to fight?”

Deckard groaned and held his face. “You keep sneaking the lil missus down here? Lord Vander doesn’t like it.”

Vi rolled her shoulders and stepped in front of Powder as she tried to approach the fallen boy. She waved the practice sword in her hands, letting the weight settle comfortably as more boys came forward. “Vander can tell me himself. He’s my father.”

“Hardly a father to someone like you.” Twitch, a stable boy, taunted. “With bright hair like yours, I bet your father’s a free folk north of the wall.”

Deckard rubbed his chin and smirked. “Yeah. And your mother was a—”

“Say it.” Vi challenged. Raising her wooden sword in a threatening manner. “Who was my mother, rat?”

“Vi,” Powder warned, while backing away from their fighting area. “Maybe we should leave.”

Vi ignored her, glaring at the boys that outnumbered her by four. Her leather gloves groaned with the subtle movement of her grip tightening around the handle. Preparing herself to be jumped. They were alone down here. 

Deckard sniffed hard. “Your mother was a capitol whore passed around for—” 

Vi didn’t let him finish, swinging her wooden sword down so hard, it nearly cracked on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re the bastard no one claimed, Deckard Stone!”

He yelled in pain and dropped to the floor. But then Vi was surrounded and one by one she kicked and punched her way through the boys that had never seen a battle or a proper fight in their lives. Spitting on them with her words and spilt blood from a split lip. The baker’s boy gave her an actual fight. Bringing a stained knife but wielding it in a manner that let Vi know this boy only fought fish and deer on a cutting board.

He got a few punches in before Vi had to tackle him onto the mud and ice. Sitting on his chest and rained punches like the promise of winter. “You… son of a… bitch!” Vi stood up and swayed and kicked him in the face for good measure.

“Hey!” a deep and monstrous voice shouted. “He’s on the floor, Snow. Give it up!”

“They attacked Vi.” Powder’s little voice called out to her father. “We were just practicing, as we always do.”

The boys scattered to stand up. “Lord Stark.”

And Vi straightened her posture as her father stood next to Nathar and walked down the wooden stairs. The teen glared down at her. Wearing the same contempt their mother held for Violet when she first arrived. Nathar never tried to get close with Vi. Hating her on sight. Being silently encouraged. 

Lady Ariana Stark from House Bolton. She was positively beautiful and wise. She had an unbreakable love for her family and an understanding fear for anyone who would try to tear it apart. 

Nathar represented his mother’s full disapproval for Violet’s presence in Winterfell.

But both were overshadowed by Vander Stark, Warden of the North. ‘Winter’s Hound’ marched towards Violet with the determination of an angry father. Vi spat out blood on the ground and kept her chin up, showing no fear towards this man who had yet to try and be her father. The man who took her in, fed her, gave her a temporary family.

He wore a permanent scowl. Large leather hands were on the handle of his great sword, ‘Fyre’s Bane’ he called it. The only warmth in the north, as they say. Strikes the blade so hard and fast the steel warms with every kill, every swing. A skilled and retired warrior. Vi would have longed to see this man fight in a real war. He stood in front of her like a great shadow of a mountain and used one gloved finger to tilt her face even higher.

“You fight like a boy.” Lord Vander’s voice rumbled through her skin, inciting a cautious anger.

Vi sniffed loudly, desperately wanting to push his hand away. “I’m not a boy. ”

Vander smirked. “You fight like one—”

“I fight like me. ” Vi spat out, her lips swollen and bleeding.

His eyes narrowed at being corrected so bluntly by this child. “Very well… girl. ” He looked around at the boys lined on the snow. 

All rose to their feet at Lord Vander’s presence, wincing and groaning their pain away from their fight with this girl .

“Be a darling and help these boys get cleaned up. Winter’s coming. These are my wood gatherers kids. Best not upset my people. Hot springs beneath Winterfell can only do so much. Come along, Powder, your mother will have my hide if she hears you’ve been down here.”

Without another word, Lord Vander marched away. Leaving as quickly as he arrived. Lady Powder hesitated by the stairs, still holding her sword to her chest. 

Vi shook her head. ‘Not worth it,’ she tried to convey and Powder left without a glance back.

Vi snickered and rubbed her cheek from a good swing from the stable boy: Deckard. He was smirking. Vi walked up to him and kicked him back on his ass. 

He hit the muddy ice with a surprised squeal. “Ah!”

“Stay down, bitch!” A large boot struck his chest. And Vi gathered her wooden swords and set them on the rack. “Good luck, boys. This girl has work to do in the castle.”

“Ow! You’re supposed to help!” Deckard yelled at her retreating form.

“Tough shit!” Vi smirked and turned around. “I already have orders from the lady of the Castle. The Starks are too kind for the likes of you.”

“Like you’re any better than us?” Deckard didn't know when to shut his trap.

Vi slowed to spare a glance at the boys she fought. The lower class of greed and desperation. She’s been there. She’s done that begging more than once at foreign ports before resolving to thievery. How Vander found her stowed away on his brother’s ship. She glared at them. They had no idea what hunger truly meant. 

“I am.” she stated as a matter of fact and walked away.

Vi was trying to hide a limp as she made her way towards her side of the castle.

The servants quarter.

She was halfway up the stairs when she spotted a familiar handmaiden. “Need help?”

The young teen spun around and glared at her. “Where have you been! Lady Ariana will surely hunt you down if you don’t show up and do your own chores for once!”

Vi barely bat an eye when Roann shoved the folded blankets into her hands. “These for me?”

“Wash these! I must tend to Lady Powder before dinner tonight.”

“You didn’t miss me?” Vi tried to smirk but she knew half of her face was swollen. “Ow.”

Roann said nothing else and quickly rushed past Vi to get to the other side of the castle.

Vi tried to get along with the servants at least, but they wanted nothing to do with her as well. More like Roann wanted nothing to do with Vi. Which was perfectly fine with her.

Later that evening, Vi was sitting at the end of the long table next to Powder, off to the side where no one would hardly notice her. Lady Ariana was thrilled, having not been constantly reminded of her husband’s possible infidelity when Lord Stark was temporarily living in the capital of King’s Landing. Vi was a living and breathing reminder that love only went so deep in the shallow waters of war.

Cregan and Dywen admired her, and Powder—absolutely loved Violet. 

How could she not?

The little lady was finally given a sister.

Powder shook her fist. The wooden dice barely moved in her smaller fist. “I choose…” she clicked her tongue in thought, “...a dragon. Vhagar.” She grabbed the tiny wooden dragon figurine and placed it on the table. “I think she’s in her prime.”

Cregan scoffed. “Ugh, cheap play little sister. Let’s see yer numbers though, and we’ll see what lands you conquer.”

A game they played with wooden chess pieces. Old and no longer used for the war tables. Vi was a Lord Commander of the Iron Fleet, Cregan commanded the bannermen of the north, and Eddard was a brilliant weirwood tree for the Children of the Forest—north of the wall.

No one had been able to sink Vi's fleet. She smirked.

She knew the waters, even imaginary.

Vi leaned forward, eying her season shakers for her fleet, and her bowl of stew to represent the Golden Army. “Can a single dragon wipe out the largest armies in the north?”

Cregan hummed. “This is a war dragon, Vi. She was used to conquer Westeros and unite the seven kingdoms. This isn’t Rexes whose skull is still decorating the Kiramman Great Hall no doubt.”

“She failed at Dorne and the great walls of Piltover.” Vi shrugged. “A beast has its limits.”

“Oh, certainly.” Cregan agreed while looking at all of the pieces on the imaginary war table. “The Plains would be an excellent hit.”

“Heart of Westeros,” Vi hummed, thinking what Powder’s move would be.

Dywen wasn’t playing their made up chess game. A game of thrones and the power of imagination. But he was still reaching forward to move the pieces for Vi and Cregan.

“My turn.” Powder rolled her 20 sided die and it landed on the 16. She held her breath and looked over the table of armies, powerful children of the forests, shadows from the North, and the great Golden Army. “I seek to hit the children of the forest.”

Cregan frowned. “Full hit, Powder. And your dragon is exhausted for two rounds. But you have a great Golden Army to your west, and yet you chose the enemy that’s leagues away. Hardly a threat to your iron throne, dontcha think?”

Vi slowly nodded. “Even a single dragon head can take over these plains here, burn their crops and starve out their armies by moving east.”

Cregan marveled at Vi’s knowledge of war. “But if she moves her dragon too far east, the great Kiramman House—well-known dragon slayers, can lend aid to your armies and beat her dragons.”

Powder was frowning the entire time. “I just want to fly north of the wall. Are we seriously playing for real? Trying to win that ugly Iron throne?”

Vi rubbed her chin in thought. “If we can join forces with the Kiramman armies, the North and the East would be a near unstoppable force.” She looked up to face her siblings. “Why haven’t we done it in real time? Why did we bend the knee to the Iron Throne and the Targaryen’s?” Vi slowly moved her wooden ships towards the ‘east’ side of the table where House Kiramman lived. “We wouldn’t have to be simple wardens of the north. We can be our own sovereignty.”

“Heresy, Vi.” Cregan shrugged. “Bran was to marry the princess of the Great Plains of Piltover, but—the gods had other plans for him. He pretended to know war, and it overthrew him in a single night.”

Vi reached for her steak and took a huge bite. “That’s where Nathar comes in. Marry the heir to the greatest defense in Westeros, join our bannerman and it’ll force the Targaryen’s, the Lannister’s, and the Hightower’s to kneel before the Queen of the North and her King consort.”

Dywen was in awe of Vi’s natural mind for war. “You’re very smart.”

Vi shrugged. “I know of war even though I’ve never been in one.” She bit her lip. “House Kiramman is a fortress on its own, but the North is an ever-present water flow. With time, we’ll seep through. That’s why,” Vi tossed up a grape and caught it in her mouth midair, “...we join our houses.”

Cregan slowly nodded. “Nathar thinks the princess is ghastly in appearance.”

Vi raised her brows. “Has he even met her?”

“Not even a whiff of royalty has been this far north in generations.”

“Given the state of King’s Road, I don’t doubt it.”

“And Nathar wants to be a knight. Hardly King consort state of mind, don’t you think?”

Cregan and Vi stared at each other before slowly leaning forward to get a glimpse of their older brother on the other end of the table.

Vi let out a deep sigh. “But if Nathar doesn’t want to marry Princess Caitlyn, then who will?”

Cregan and Vi both scoffed at each other.

“Not me. I am the third son of Winterfell.” Cregan rolled his eyes. “More than likely it will be—”

“Violet!” Vander shouted in the great hall. His voice hitting every corner of the room.

Vi flinched at the tone.

The great hall fell silent, and all eyes turned to the Stark bastard.

Vi leaned forward and tried to catch a glimpse of her father. She leaned back and sighed.

Cregan wore a sympathetic smile. “That’s it then. He’s sending you to the wall.”

“Shut it!” Powder slapped her brother’s arm. “Violet’s not going to the wall!”

Cregan stood and ushered his other siblings to do the same. “Off you go then, Vi. Good luck with father.”

Lady Ariana and Nathar were already leaving together while handmaidens ushered the other Stark children out of the great hall. Vi looked down at her empty dinner plate and sighed before quickly standing up and rounding the table to stand in front of Vander.

“Yes, my lord?” sixteen years old and Vi stood with the arrogance of a seasoned warrior. Posture still perfect, her eyes blazing into her father’s eyes with equal defiance and respect.

Vander looked tired. “Sit with me. Let us dine together.”

“I already ate, my Lord.”

Vander’s entire shoulders dropped as he stared at Vi. “Suffer an old man and grant his wish to have dinner with his oldest daughter.” 

Vi made no reaction. Instead, she walked around the table and sat down next to Vander. She tried desperately not to let it affect her. The firepit behind them warmed her back in a way that was soothing and annoying. But she said nothing.

She only waited for her father to speak.

Vander was sipping his wine and slowly eating his meal. “How old are you?”

Vi rolled her eyes at the question to break the silence. “Sixteen.”

He nodded. “You know we have visitors coming soon. The Queen of Piltover. They have a girl ‘bout your age. Maybe younger.”

Vi nodded. “Lady Caitlyn.”

“Princess Caitlyn.” Vander corrected. “I think you two would get along.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Vander rubbed the back of his neck, “...you’re both—girls.”

“She’s a princess and I’m a bastard. Forgive me, my Lord, I hardly see where the similarities meet.”

Vander chuckled softly. “You’re good with words for growing up on the Narrow Sea.”

Vi glared at him. “Words are needed to communicate, my Lord.”

“Vander. And you know what I mean.” 

Vi swallowed. “Pardon, my Lord?”

“Stop that,” Vander mumbled while sipping his wine. “You sound like the lords and handmaidens roaming about the castle. I’m your father, not your lord.”

Vi sighed. “Is this what I’ll have in common with the Princess? I doubt she calls the queen anything other than ‘Your Grace.’”

Vander nodded. “That’s them. We’re different. And I still think you two would get along.”

“Why are you telling me this and not Nathar—her future King consort? Are they not betrothed?”

Vander finally met Vi’s inquiring gaze. “They can’t stand each other, and they’ve never even met. They’ve written letters to each other since Bran’s—death. I need them to get over whatever stupid animosity that’s gotten between them.”

“A fallen Stark seems acceptable to me.”

Vander tried to ignore the remark. “Nathar will marry the Kiramman Princess and join our houses for good. It’s what will please the gods and our name.”

“You think Nathar will listen to what I have to say? He hates me, just like Lady Ariana.”

“I know.” Vander mumbled. “And if he sees you getting close to his betrothed—”

Vi sighed, finally understanding. “I doubt that he’s capable of jealousy. But if he strikes me, I’m hitting him back.”

Vander smirked. “I doubt you’d let him strike you first.”

Winterfell was a disarray.

Chaotic order as servants ran around the castle cleaning up everything, hanging up fresh candle chandeliers, putting up furnishings specific to represent the noble and sovereign family, and even went out of their way to change their tapestries.

The Stark children weren’t exempt from the hardship either.

Vi stood in the middle of the butcher’s shop wearing only her undershirt and wraps she uses to hide her—growing womanhood. Cregan was shirtless leaning against a post as they watched the butcher shave Nathar’s beard. The oldest living son flexed his exposed muscles to taunt Vi.

It hardly bothered her, but—

Vi scoffed. “Why’s father so dead set on us getting pretty for tonight?”

Cregan smirked. “It’s for the Queen, I bet. I hear she's a wandering eye with her husband. Perhaps she’s in need of a younger stallion.”

Nathar glared at nothing in particular. “I hear the King Consort is a right royal prick.”

Vi raised her brows. “Your future father-in-law, Nate.”

“Do you think he prefers southern or northern lads to fuck with his right royal prick?” Cregan asked.

Vi tried to hold in laughter. “That’s what the Queen’s for.”

“Watch your tongue, Snow,” Nathar snapped. “That’s my future mother-in-law you’re talking about. If I was King, I’d have your tongue.” He stood up, standing a good full head over Vi. He stared down at her and smirked, knowing she couldn’t challenge him. “But what good would that do when a King requires a jester.”

Vi’s jaw tensed. 

Nathar’s bright blue, almost green-ish, eyes bore flames beneath her skin. Taunting her, hoping to make her act the fool. A true bastard wolf of the north.

He gave Vi a firm slap on the shoulder. A brotherly encouragement. “Go on, Jericho. Give this one a nice close trim. Mother wants her to look like a pretty boy.”

Cregan winked. “Vi’s never met a boy she liked better than her own hair.”

Vi ignored them. She never liked boys at all.

Nathar crossed his arms and watched as Vi sat on the bench in front of the butcher. 

She swallowed thickly. “Did Lady Ariana really want my hair so short?”

“Don’t worry.” Nathar wore an icy smile.  “It’ll grow back.”

Vi flinched when Jericho cut a little too close to her ear. 

The ringing of the bell tower and the sound of horns announced the arrival of Queen Cassandra Kiramman, her King Consort Tobias who stepped off his horse first and reached up to help down his queen, and the queen’s guard stood around one of the carriages.

Vi wasn’t allowed to stand with the Starks, so she stood next to Roann and the other servants—freshly trimmed (horrible hack job that Jericho must’ve been bribed for). Vander took one look at her hair, nearly shaved on one side and boiled with anger on the spot. ‘Nathar.’

Roann barely bat an eye when she saw the state of Vi’s hair. Simply humming in annoyance. ‘You say you’re a Stark, yet you allow them to treat you like a wild bitch.’

Vi shook her head. ‘ What’s done is done.’

Vi hardly paid attention to the formal announcement, truly hoping she blended into the faces of anonymity. 

Then, Vi saw her.

A flower in the middle of Fall.

The Princess of the Great Plains. Winterfell cheered for the little Lady. Their future Queen. She was younger than Vi had imagined. Smaller. Too petite to be a fighter, too innocent in appearance to be the hardened ruler the Kiramman’s are known for. 

Her smile could melt even the hardest ice. It held a natural warmth and an easy gentleness. Princess Caitlyn was a beauty that Vi could not explain. She’s seen plenty before. Bold and loud—seen from kilometers away. But this was a quiet allure with the grace of a dancer. A dangerous dance of fairness. Caitlyn’s hair was in a southern style, mostly up and out of her face, jewels woven into her hair, two single braids elegantly fell over her shoulders.

But it was the way she pushed the knight's hand out of the way and hopped off the carriage on her own that made Vi smirk. I think I can find common ground with this one.

But when Nathar approached her and bowed his head in greeting—Vi could tell he was forcing it quite well. Making it look natural as he pretended to hold a fondness for the Princess.

Vi had to look away before he lifted Caitlyn’s hand to press the betrothed kiss upon it. She didn’t know why, but in her mind, Nathar didn’t deserve the Princess.

Winterfell celebrated the young Lord and his betrothed Princess. But Vi was silently staring at the ground. Roann was equally distressed, though for another reason entirely. But Vi could see the way Powder’s handmaiden looked at Nathar.

He was— unfortunately handsome. Beautiful, even.

Charming, some would say.

And Vi noticed how Roann would watch him, use minor excuses to touch him. Get close to him. Nathar loved the attention from the gorgeous handmaiden. But Roann was only a handmaiden. A bastard. The way Nathar looked through her must’ve hurt.

Seeing him appear so “in love” with another.

Vi nudged Roann gently. “You’re crying.”

Roann glared at Vi and quickly wiped her face. “I’m not. ”

But she was and Vi said nothing else. Young love from afar, Vi never knew what that meant. Wordlessly she took Roann’s hand and squeezed it almost painfully tight. Roann squeezed back just as strong, if not harder. Taking out her frustration.

When Princess Caitlyn walked by, she smiled at the crowds of commoners, then guards and the Starks knights, then the servants where Vi stood. Vi ducked her head, not wanting to be perceived in the horrid way her hair looks while also being a Stark bastard.

Vi let Roann tug her away once the royal family was ushered into the castle by the Starks.

“Let’s go. We still need to prepare the great hall.”

A full dinner celebration was currently keeping Winterfell awake past the midnight hours.

Wine was flowing, meat was still slowly cooking for more hungry mouths, and Vi was swinging a blunted edged sword at a dummy target.

Alone in the courtyard, save for the butcher’s son—Claggor who was leaning against a post watching her. “It’s not so bad in the dark. Maybe if you comb it back it’ll look like it was on purpose.”

Vi rolled her eyes and struck the wooden and straw dummy several more times. “I swear—I’m going to—kick his—ass!” She spun around and brough the blunted blade down with all her might. Still hardly leaving a dent on the sturdy practice dummy. “I’ll have his head one day.”

“Vi!” Claggor scolded while looking around. “You’d be hung for that.”

Vi was catching her breath and smiling. “I meant the dummy. Maybe a sharper blade.”

Vi heard the hissing through the wind before she heard the thump of a blade hitting the target off to the side. Still a good way off, she wasn’t in any threat of being hit—unless the throwing was a child with horrible aim. She looked over her shoulder and her smile widened. 

“Sevika.” Vi plucked the blade from the board and quickly made her towards the pirate.

Her uncle’s advisor—Lord Commander of the fleets, if she were given the proper title—scowled around the thick smoking pipe in her mouth. “Is he dead yet?” she nodded towards the dummy Vi was practicing on.

Claggor wasn’t sure what to do or say when the woman showed up. But he was only a commoner and chose to say nothing at all. 

Vi, on the other hand, smiled brightly as though meeting a family member that was long forgotten. She looked up to this woman. Even from the rare times they’ve met, when Sevika helped Vi back into civilization—learning how to be a normal child, how to be a highborn bastard. Sevika had no idea why Vi was so fond of the pirate.

Sevika took one look at herself and the young eleven-year-old bastard at the time. ‘What about me screams friendly to you?’

Nothing had, and that’s why Vi felt safe around the woman. Sevika was open about who she didn’t trust and who she didn’t like for their name alone, and it was something Vi was more than familiar with. If Sevika was a knight, Vi would want to learn the art of the sword from this warrior. Then perhaps Vi could be knighted and be someone—be something important.

Instead, Vi learned the art of self-preservation. Even war has rules that can be broken. 

The young teen quickly made her way to stand by the cloaked woman. “Hey. You’re far from the wall.”

Sevika scoffed and blew out a mouthful of smoke. “Keep it up and your ass will end up there before I do.”

They’ve never hugged the way Lady Powder would run up and hug their estranged aunt. But Vi stood close enough to the woman until their arms touched. Sevika let out a displeased groan but never moved for the child’s sake. 

Vi held out the blade. “Can you take a man’s eye out from this distance?”

Sevika blew out smoke around the wooden pipe. “If I couldn’t, I’d be dead a dozen times over.”

“Can you teach me?”

Sevika took out another blade between her thumb and two fingers. “It’s easier to learn when there’s an archer with an arrow aimed at your heart.” She pulled back her arm and tossed the blade effortlessly at the board. Hitting the bullseye once again.

Vi marveled at this raw skill. “I can have one of the boys shoot arrows at me.”

Sevika grunted. “I hope you mean your Stark brothers and not the commoners. That’s one way to be whipped to death.”

“Lord Vander isn’t like that. He wouldn't harm a soul.”

“You’d be surprised what kind of Lord he is if his child is harmed. You know him as your ‘father that was never there’. Westeros knows him as the Unbeatable Hound of the North that had a craving for war more than men craved the touch of a woman.”

Vi shrugged, not understanding the difference. “I crave war, and I’ve never known—,” she cleared her throat in embarrassment, “...the touch of a woman. I’d be perfect in battle. Mind only focused on one thing.”

Sevika raised her brow while she removed her pipe. “Trust me, kid. Once you do, you’ll know why wars are started over one woman.”

Vi smirked. “Unlikely. No one would look upon me like that.”

“Unless you pay for her.”

Vi slowly nodded. “I could, but once I say my vowels as a knight, would that bring dishonor to my family name?”

“Snow is your family name?” Sevika growled under breath. “Your father did plenty himself before you were even born. Forget all that highborn bullshit. Here. Throw it,” Sevika held out a larger dagger. “Feel the weight between your fingers first.”

Vi eagerly took it.

“Don’t lose a finger!” Sevika scolded.

Vi balanced the weight between both hands first. She heard Claggor hesitantly walk closer. “Careful, milady. Best not shed blood tonight. It’s bad luck for a night like this.”

Vi smirked and rotated the blade once more. “I hear stories about the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea, bloodshed is an honor during weddings.” She drew back her arm and let the blade leave her hand. 

For the Stark name! She prayed for guidance—her first time with the blade and yet Vi had hoped the gods would bless her with the skill of a master knife thrower.

Sevika actually laughed out loud when the blade hit the dummy. The blade struck, but it was about two meters off from the target.

“I’ll give you a fan of blades, and maybe you’ll hit it.”

Vi was red in the face and begrudgingly walked towards the dummy to retrieve the blade. “It was my first try. I’ll be as skilled as you one—” Vi flinched when something struck the board to her right. She glared at the arrow sticking out. “You fucking kidding me!” She forcibly pulled the blade out and spun around. “You terrible shot and you sad sack of—” The words died on her lips when she saw who was carrying the bow. 

Sevika was even slowly leaning away, looking behind her.

Claggor looked like he’d rather be back in the kitchen helping his father butcher another young deer.

Vi immediately straightened her posture, almost dropping the blade in the process. “My Lady—err—I-I—my —Your Grace—Princess!” Vi quickly corrected and wished the ground opened up and swallowed her whole. ‘Shit’.

My head will surely be on a spike come morning. 

Princess Caitlyn slowly lowered her bow and smiled. She was still wearing her brilliant and gorgeous gown. The bottom was muddied from her wondering about the castle and the common ground where snow had melted. She wasn’t even wearing a coat for the midnight chill that even Vi could feel with her thick cloak. 

         The bastard swallowed thickly and stood still, afraid of what would happen to her for being so—vocal against the princess.

Princess Caitlyn wore a focused scowl before smiling warmly as she noticed Vi. “Perfect shot,” was all she said.

And yet Vi wanted—no, needed to hear more from the princess. She had no idea why her mouth was opening or why words decided to come out as well. “You’re an alright shot.”

Princess Caitlyn furrowed her brows before reaching for another arrow. “I’ll have you know I won several archery tournaments.” 

She lined it up and pulled back the string so quickly Vi had to run and duck out of the way before another arrow could potentially harm her. But her reaction only caused the princess to roll her eyes and scowl. “Don’t worry. I would never harm a person serving under House Stark.”

Vi blinked slowly. Servant?

Does the little Princess not know just who she is? Vi may be a bastard, but she isn’t a commoner roaming about the castle in the middle of the night because she wants to. Vi ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She even bowed her head. “Forgive me, my Princess. I’m Violet Snow—estranged daughter of Lord Stark.”

The Princess' smile dimmed just so before dropping entirely. And Vi knew she had said something wrong. She looked to Sevika for guidance, but the woman had moved a great distance from the Princess. Discreetly blowing out her smoke and avoiding looking in Vi’s direction. 

Claggor had disappeared entirely.

It was only the bastard Stark and the heir of the Great Plains roaming about the vacant courtyard and practice lanes.

 “I’ve heard of you,” Caitlyn finally spoke up, softly. She lowered her bow and beckoned Vi closer. “You’ve caused quite the stirring in the South. You were raised on the Narrow Sea, were you not?”

Vi quickly obeyed and nearly tripped over her own cloak in her haste to listen to the Princess’ wishes. “Yes, my Lady.”

Princess Caitlyn looked like she was going to say something else, when she slowly looked over Vi’s appearance. “You’re dressed very well for tonight. Why haven’t I seen you in the Great Hall? I would remember seeing you there. I never forget a face.”

“Lady Ari—uh,” Vi shook her head, not wanting to place blame on anyone else but herself. “I thought it’d be best, as a bastard, to not sit amongst the legitimate Starks in front of the Queen.”

“Admirable.” Caitlyn only nodded., agreeing with Vi. “Perhaps when I’m Queen, I’ll invite you to dine beside your family in my Great Hall. We’ll be family by law once I marry Nathar. Is that where you wish to stand?”

“No, my Princess.” Vi swallowed, having a mental breakdown, the longer Caitlyn spoke with her. “I don’t need to be legitimized. I want to be a knight.”

“A knight, you say? You would take your vows in the Light of the Seven? Pledge your blade to my birthright?” Princess Caitlyn lifted her chin, ran her hands over the perfect sculpted wood of her bow. She studied the bastard as though imaging Vi in armor. “You’re a girl.”

“I’m a fighter.”

“Are you now? Or are you simply excelling when the target doesn’t move?” Her tone was light.

And Vi wasn’t sure if she was allowed to smile at the tone or remain still. “I’ve trained with moving targets.”

Caitlyn looked past Vi at the dummy’s and the various targets. The corners of her lips lifted. “I’d love to see a woman as a knight. The Great Plains host tournaments every so often. We actually have one coming up shortly. If you’re knighted by then, I would love to have you there. And perhaps I could—”

“Princess!”

Both Princess Caitlyn and Vi jumped at the sudden shout. 

Even Sevika arched her brow and slowly made her way closer to Violet.

The clinking of armor and heavy boots hitting the ground caused Vi to take several steps away from the Princess. There was a large knight rushing to the Princess. Her voice sounded hoarse. Aggravated, worse than the smooth silk of Princess Caitlyn’s soft flux.

“What are you doing all the way out here? And alone and with—” The knight’s attention fell on Vi, and she drew her sword. “Did you touch her, boy!”

Vi hardly made a reaction having a sword aimed at her face. 

This is not the first time.

Sevika stepped forward as well as the Princess, who immediately tugged the knight’s golden cloak. “Stop! This is Lord Vander’s bastard! If you harm her, it’ll bring dishonor to our name! Put the sword down before anyone gets harmed.”

The knight glared at Vi, then slowly turned her attention to Sevika, who was standing behind Vi. Sevika placed both hands on Vi’s shoulders, keeping her niece steady. 

“And who the hell are you?” The knight snapped.

Sevika spat on the ground. “Distant relative. Part of the Sea Hound fleet. Your shores are untouched by us, lord—lady, uh.” The two rivals carefully glared at one another. “Are you a man or a woman?”

“I’m a commander with a sword.”

Sevika smirked. “I like that.”

“Lord Commander Grayson.” Princess Caitlyn looked so tiny next to the commander. “Please. No harm was done to me! I simply wanted to get away from—” Caitlyn tugged on her dress and held herself as though finally feeling the biting chill of being so far North. “...I needed some time to myself and look around. We are guests here. Let us not dishonor the Stark’s generous hospitality.”

Lord Commander Grayson slowly sheathed her sword before gently placing her armored hand on the Princess’ shoulder. She looked between Vi and Sevika several times before lifting her chin. “A bit late for practicing on targets, eh boy?”

Vi finally chose to speak up. “As the bastard of Winterfell, these are prime hours to be alone. Just as the Princess said. And… I’m a girl.” she mumbled quietly.

The Lord Commander simply shrugged.

Caitlyn smiled at Vi, but the bastard was too shy—scared—embarrassed to keep her attention on the beautiful heiress any longer than a few seconds at a time. 

Vi quickly looked away and bowed her head. “If it pleases the Princess, I’ll be on my way. I hope you enjoy your stay at Winterfell.”

Caitlyn was now holding her bow a little high, hugging it almost. She nodded. “You may go, but only after a proper farewell.” 

Lord Commander Grayson shook her head. “Princess, perhaps this is not very wise.”

Caitlyn stepped forward and held out her hand. Her attention never wavered from Vi. Sevika slowly removed her hands and roughly pushed Vi forward. “Your Princess gave a command.” 

Vi gasped and caught herself before reaching for Caitlyn’s hand. She quickly lifted it and froze—Vi looked up and met the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. The clearest ocean waters on the brightest day had nothing on the blue that watched Violet kiss the royal hand.

Vi didn’t hear it, rather than felt Caitlyn hold in her breath. Her cheeks flushed bright red and quickly retracted her hand. The bastard Stark cleared her throat. “Good night, my Princess.”

“...g’night.” Princess Caitlyn whispered as she watched the two slowly walk away.

Chapter Text

She was flying over the snowy mountains.

…Running over the grassy hills.

Her paws took her far south. Chasing someone—fleeing from something dangerous. Colder than the snow that was slowly falling to the ground. The wolf’s attention was so focused on the forest before her. Waiting. Her teeth ripped into her caught prey. She licked her chops and growled. Her hot breath created a cloud of confusion. She stepped forward towards the small puddle of water and stared at herself.

The direwolf growled again, opening her mouth to speak. “Heir to the North.”

…

…

Vi jolted awake, growling like a wolf and flailing like a snow hare. “Ah!”

She was still lying on top of the skins in her bedroom, sweating. Panting to catch her breath. She tried to sit up, but an arm around her waist stopped her. Ugh, Powder , she immediately thought. Her sister usually snuck away after a nightmare and crawled into Vi’s bed over the years. As annoying as it was at first, it became a tradition Vi grew accustomed to.

But as Vi rolled onto her back, she was surprised to see the handmaiden, Roann. Still sound asleep… and snoring loud.

“Okay.” Vi rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched. “Hey, wake up.” She nudged Roann. “This isn’t Nathar’s room.”

“Shut up,” Roann mumbled, eyes still closed, as she snuggled closer. “You smell much better anyway.”

Vi scoffed. “I’m much prettier too.”

Roann groaned loudly. “I don’t know about that. Nathar is blessed by every god in beauty. He gets all the attention.”

“Yeah, because he craves it.”

“Perhaps if you stop carrying yourself like a burdened servant, you’d have the attention you desired as well.”

Vi quickly sat up and glared down at the handmaiden. “I don’t want the attention of boys.”

Roann yawned while she stretched. She offered a secret smile. “I know. I see that way you look at the women and their daughters. I’ve seen the way you watch Princess Caitlyn.” 

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Vi quickly got out of bed and began pulling on some clean clothes. “Normally I would bathe at this hour.”

“Such drama. I’ll leave you, Violet.” Roann looked over Vi’s ruffled appearance. “Gods know you need to bathe everyday with all the work you don’t do. Who knows, perhaps, one day, the Princess will notice how you stare at her.”

Roann curtsied, mockingly, then quickly left Vi’s room before the bastard could say anything else.

Vi let out a displeased groan and kicked off her pants. She leaned against her wardrobe and glared at everything in her small room. “Am I that obvious?”

Princess Caitlyn was already awake and leaning against the window frame before the first rays of sunlight hit the castle grounds of Winterfell.

A humble castle, really. But this place was beautiful even in its dull appearance. The castle of Winterfell was designed to be a fortress to keep out the biting cold, the wanderers from the wall, and perhaps an enemy—unseen to the naked eye.

Caitlyn expected the knock on her bedroom door, but she didn’t expect the light and fearful sounding voice that followed. 

“Good morning, Princess, I brought you a clean sheet set if it pleases thee.”

Princess Caitlyn, still dressed in her nightgown, quickly turned to face the young handmaiden assigned to her. She’s heard stories about the northern girls. That they lacked a simple education, were too ugly to find work anywhere amongst the commoners, and that they were inbred with the wildlings.

But the girl that stood before Princess Caitlyn was positively beautiful.

Princess Caitlyn straightened her posture, hoping to appear more elegant than she felt in that moment.

The handmaid's dark brown hair was uniquely styled. Braided on top and wrapped around to appear as a crown upon her head. The handmaiden was tall (almost as tall as the young Stark bastard Caitlyn met the previous night), the handmaiden smelt and appeared clean, and she carried herself very delicately.

With a purpose to serve and an underlying contempt in her expression.

This caused Princess Caitlyn to grin knowingly. “It will please me.” She folded her hands before her. “And what do I call you besides ‘girl’?”

The handmaiden placed the clean set of sheets on the empty table and began pulling off the used ones. “You can call me whatever you like, my Princess.” She briefly glanced in Caitlyn’s direction. 

“Your given name would be wonderful.” Caitlyn remained near the opened window, enjoying the way the morning breeze chilled her suddenly heated skin.

“Roann,” the handmaiden whispered. “My name is Roann, Princess.”

Caitlyn nodded. “That’s a beautiful name,” she risked a moment of bravery and spoke honestly, “...for a beautiful handmaiden.”

Roann slowed for a moment, a blush rising to her cheeks, before appearing angry at herself. “Thank you.” She hesitated and stood up straight and curtsied, not daring to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. “Your pleasant words mean a great deal, Princess. Thank you.”

There was a stutter in her movements as she reached for the clean sheets. Roann briefly risked a glance in the Princess’s direction, surprised to be watched.

Caitlyn felt more herself after witnessing the girl’s reaction. “Honesty and honor are my virtues, Lady Roann.”

Roann clearly wanted to clarify that she was not a Lady and Caitlyn knew this handmaiden couldn’t out-right correct her. Caitlyn slowly approached her borrowed bed and began helping the handmaiden pull the fitted sheet over the mattress.

Roann appeared confused. “Apologies, my princess, I am supposed to work on this on my own.”

“And your surname?” Caitlyn asked instead, ignoring the outright question.

For her part, Roann appeared stressed to be addressed so—commonly. Like a banter between two friends. “I do not have one, Princess.”

Caitlyn arched a brow at this. “Even bastard-born commoners have surnames. But as I see you and observe you, I can tell you were raised alongside the Stark children, were you not?”

“I was, indeed, Princess.”

“Your mannerisms are incredibly refined. Your open expressions of discomfort are welcoming as well. I–I didn’t mean for that to sound so crude. Your work is remarkable. And you speak as a highborn.”

The handmaiden appeared more nervous. “My apologies, Princess. I do not mean to disrespect you. I’ve never—I’ve only worked with the little Lady Stark. I’m a private servant, Princess.”

“Don’t be frightened, Lady Roann, I truly welcome honesty. You carry yourself with the grace of a highborn. Whoever educated you, did well. And I understand how that comes across, but I mean it as a compliment. Truly.”

This time it was Caitlyn who looked away, ashamed and embarrassed. Speaking with beautiful girls has never been her strength. Roann noticed this and frowned upon her confusion. Perhaps she had the little Princess all wrong.

“And your full name?” Caitlyn asked, hoping to gain a semblance of her agency.

Roann couldn’t deny the Princess anymore. “Roann Rivers.”

“Rivers. You’re from Riverrun.” Caitlyn smiled in triumph. “I thought so. You are a highborn bastard. I’ve heard of Lord Frey and how he treats his bastard sons and daughters. I truly hope you find a comfortable home here. If not,” Caitlyn met Roann’s eyes. “...Piltover’s Castle grounds will welcome you with open arms.”

Roann said nothing.

Caitlyn finished her side of the bed and straightened up. “If you wish for it, of course. The gardens are beautiful on a full moon. Dragon’s Rose blooms a brilliant blue color, our pathways of lilies and other exotic flowers make a wonderful time for reading. I normally bring my handmaidens with me, and we frolic under the moonlight together.” Caitlyn blinked away a memory. “Just the gardens. The castle is a weapon. I much prefer the gardens.”

Roann carefully observed the young Princess and whatever game she may be playing. “That sounds lovely, Princess. I’ve never seen a garden before. At least, not the ones you have in the south. Only these muddy walls.”

Caitlyn smiled warmly. “Perhaps, one day, I will show them to you, Lady Roann.”

Roann blinked rapidly. “Forgive me, Princess Caitlyn, but the Starks treat me kindly and with respect. I have a great home here. I cannot abandon Lady Powder. I care for the little Lady.”

“Good.” Was all Caitlyn quietly offered. “I am pleased to know this. Perhaps I should get dressed then.”

Roann nodded, suddenly remembering where she was. “Her grace, Queen Cassandra, also requested you be present for breakfast. Should I draw you a bath?” 

Caitlyn began unbuttoning her nightgown. “Please. The hotter the water, the better.”

“At once, Princess.” 

Roann watched her for a beat before nearly tripping over invisible shoes and quickly left to the side washroom and began heating up the water in a bid. She soaped the water with the flower-scented soaps. When Princess Caitlyn stepped in and sat in the tub, Roann knew her place once again, and began washing the Princess’s hair.

Caitlyn kept a comfortable conversation going. How she would accompany her mother on the royal hunts. Her own handmaiden, Elora Flowers, remained in Piltover due to an unexpected sickness.

Roann listened and offered nothing but her silence and a listening ear.

Perhaps this beautiful Princess had more to offer than a pretty smile.

Vi was walking down the corridor towards the great hall for breakfast when Roann rounded the corner and shoved the pile of dirty blankets into her arms.

“ Omph! ” Vi peeked over the sheets and glared at Roann. “What are you doing? I was summoned to breakfast by Lord Stark himself. What the hell is this?”

Roann clicked her tongue and appeared undaunted. “Those are from your precious love .”

Vi looked down at the blankets in her hands, confused before it clicked. And realization flooded her.  “You waited on the Princess?”

“Mhm,” Roann hummed. “Saw her naked before you and Nathar. Cute.” She toyed with her hair. “She even called me beautiful. I like her.”

Vi’s attention snapped up and she appeared confused. “Did you—wait, what? You—” the bastard eyed the handmaiden carefully. “She summoned you for—what? But she’s betrothed.”

Roann rolled her eyes. “I drew her a bath, you disgusting dimwit bastard. By the way, the Queen is in the Great Hall. I doubt you’d be wanted there as a bastard and soil the Stark honor. Perhaps Lord Vander didn’t know either.”

Vi’s shoulders dropped. “I think he did know and he’s testing me.”

Roann almost felt bad. “Well, better to honor Her Grace than disrespect her sovereignty. Don’t worry, the Princess is still thawing in her tub. I left her with Lady Powder.”

Vi’s eyes widened with fear. “Roann—”

“Kidding,” Roann chuckled softly. “Gods, you’re too easy. You should take these to the cleaners. Off you go, Violet.”

This time, Vi didn’t question as she grumbled and rushed down the opposite hall. “It’s Vi,” she mumbled, thoroughly displeased.

Roann chuckled. “I know.” She then went off to a secret corner of the castle to meet up with Nathar.

Caitlyn quickly dressed after her bath and followed lady Roann towards the Great Hall.

From all the stories she’s heard, all the lessons she’s learned throughout the years—studying all the castles—, the Starks Great Hall was hardly mentioned. One of the oldest areas in the castle, possibly the first thing that was built by Bran the Builder, thousands of years ago.

The old age of the hallways was proudly displayed.

The smell of decaying wood, the darkened décor of the halls with chiseled statues, and even the lining of bricks (more recently placed) to keep the castle strong and steady. Everything was perfectly beautiful.

“Princess Caitlyn.” 

Roann’s voice reminded Caitlyn where she was and why she was heading to breakfast so early at this ungodly hour. “Thank you, lady Roann,” she whispered politely. Walking past the quiet handmaiden who kept her head down and quickly left once she knew the Princess had fully entered the great hall.

“...and it was quite impressive, my dear. Just dozens of direwolves all along the hill!” King Consort Tobias was speaking with his Queen, using hand motions and all.

Her grace, Queen Cassandra waved Caitlyn closer. “Ah, you’re finally awake. Come here, Caitlyn, and enjoy a glass of wine with me.”

Tobias opened his mouth, before quickly closing it. Probably wanting to point out the early hours for wine. He could speak openly in the privacy of their own castle, but appearances are everything. And the Starks were sitting with them. 

Lord Vander looked mildly anxious, watching the doors as though someone had inadvertently walked through. His bastard, possibly? But why would the young girl be invited to enjoy a meal in front of the Queen?

Nathar was also there.

Caitlyn internally seethed at seeing the older teen rise from his seat. “My lovely Princess. I saved your seat next to me.”

“I,” Caitlyn hesitated, she was clearly invited to sit beside her mother, but denying an outspoken request was disrespectful. Especially one made by her future husband.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and waved her away. “Don’t be rude, Caitlyn. Off you go.”

Caitlyn bowed her head towards her mother. “At once, Your Grace.” She held her breath and quickly made her way towards the older boy in question.

She didn’t appreciate the way Nathar stared at her. The way he licked his lips as though Caitlyn were a tool to his rise in power. The princess politely curtsied and sat down. The way he remained seated while Caitlyn pulled out her own chair did little to her growing annoyance. 

The young girl, Lady Powder, sat across from the Princess. Apparently royalty did not demand the attention of the girl playing with her wooden dragons, pretending to destroy Westeros. “I am the mighty Vhagar! Fear my wrath!”

Caitlyn smiled at that. 

Nathar leaned forward. “Dragon’s don’t speak, Powder. Control her and she’ll be forced to obey you.” He  destroyed his sister’s imagination.

Powder slowly looked up. “Good thing I didn’t ask you.”

…or attempted to.

Caitlyn leaned forward and looked at the different chess pieces. Old war table pieces the former lord of Winterfell, probably used during their battle-planning. “That’s quite the army you have there, Lady Powder. Westeros should fear you. Where do you plan on leading them?”

Powder appeared put off to be addressed by the Princess, but whatever came over her left just as quickly. She looked down at her pieces. “Well,” she seemed to get an idea, “...if it were up to me, I’d join my forces with House Kiramman, the greatest defense in all of Westeros. The northern army is nearly endless and strong. We’re like—uh—water. We slip through the cracks of the patriarchy… I think.” Powder smiled widely. 

Princess Caitlyn raised her brows, thoroughly impressed. “Quite the thinking of a Lord Commander.”

Lady Powder bowed her head. “Thank you, Princess Caitlyn.”

Nathar leaned closer to Caitlyn. “She spends a lot of time with me. I suppose that's where she gets it from.”

Caitlyn hummed.

Powder heard him and she frowned, though she never spoke up to correct her older brother. 

Then, Nathar kept talking and talking. Boring the young Princess into a near madness. And the day had only begun!

The princess quickly reached for the cup of wine and downed it. It was the same cup her mother had the servants pour for Caitlyn. “Another.”

“It’s quite early in the morning, my Prin–ow!” Nathar was red in the face after realizing what he was doing so openly. So foolishly. He gave his mother an apologetic nod. 

But not to Princess Caitlyn herself.

This inaction bothered Caitlyn. She wondered if all the Stark sons were this way. But,

The Princess had only met Bran Stark once. It was during their formal betrothal ceremony. Similar to the one they’ll be holding once they get back to the Plains. Bran had a sleeve of gentle disposition; layered with the rough shell of a boy who was raised by the unruly Hound of the North. He craved war, not marriage. But even so, Bran held nothing against Caitlyn. Never touching her, walking alongside the Princess in her favorite parts of the gardens. And even joked that he would only be a pretty face once Caitlyn was crowned queen and they would marry.

‘I’ll lead the wars for you, my Princess.’ Bran had promised. “I’m an excellent swordsman. Trained by the water dance lords from the city of Braavos. I will not show mercy in your honor.’

Caitlyn may have only been a child, but she was no fool. ‘We are a peaceful nation, my Lord. Wars are behind us. I look forward to leading a free nation as well.’

‘And I will sacrifice my strength to keep it that way.’ Bran promised with the sincerity of the Seven.

Perhaps the gods heard him and held him to his outspoken promise. 

Nathar was nothing like his brother. He was a Stark by blood, though not by character.

Caitlyn held his gaze while sipping her second cup of wine before taking a single bite of food. The Queen raised her chalice at her daughter and continued her conversation with her husband.

The food was… flavorful. Lots of red meat and dark sauces. Even soups for the vegetables. Caitlyn enjoyed her meal in silence. Or at least she hoped for it.

“My family and I are heading north after breakfast,” Nathar quietly began. “We would like to celebrate the sighting of the Direwolves. They’re rarely south of the wall around this time of year.”

Caitlyn nodded while eating her food.

Nathar appeared minorly inconvenienced by her silence. “It would be a good sign from the old gods if we went together. Since we are to be married.”

Caitlyn wiped her mouth. “That sounds lovely. I hope you and your family have a safe journey.”

Nathar sighed loudly. “Yes, my Princess, but it would be a blessing if we… explore the North together.”

Lord Stark grunted loudly. “Use your direct words, boy.” He nodded towards Caitlyn. “Forgive me, Princess Caitlyn, I thought I raised him to be better spoken than this.”

Nathar appeared ashamed before staring directly at Caitlyn. “Would you care to join me, my Princess? The Old Gods send their blessings through the weirwoods where the direwolves were spotted. If we,” he hesitated before reaching over and resting his hand next to Caitlyn’s. Their smallest fingers barely touched. “If you accompanied me, I would be filled with joy.”

Caitlyn toyed with her fork. Still having said nothing since she sat down away from her parents and among the Starks. The Starks didn’t bother her. In fact, the conversations the other Stark children held were quite amusing. But it was one Stark boy who behaved as if the world owed him his crown. 

Caitlyn looked towards her Queen.

And Queen Cassandra seemed to sense her inner turmoil. She tapped the edge of her chalice, but remained quiet.

Caitlyn understood everything. “A lovely and well-spoken invitation, Lord Nathar,” she stated sweetly to only further insult the boy. “Forgive me for not wanting to intrude on your last relationship with your gods. Perhaps this religious experience must remain in the North. As I am not marrying into the Stark name, I shouldn’t be there for Stark traditions. You’re marrying into the Kiramman name and I shall wait for you so we can create our own. The Light of the Seven will wait for you.”

Queen Cassandra smirked into her third chalice of wine. Tobias sent her a knowing grin.

Caitlyn sounded genuinely thoughtful. “Forgive me, Lord Nathar and Lord Vander, I must decline your invitation and will remain here with Her Grace and my father.”

Lord Vander nodded silently, understanding. “It’s a pleasure to host Her Grace and her family. Nathar will be happy to know you’re still here once we return.”

Caitlyn smiled tightly.

Under the guise of chores, Vi was sanding down the practice swords.

They were near the front yards where the soldiers would duel with one another. Not the hidden lower castle burrow where Vi usually takes Powder. This one was far cleaner. More appealing to the visitors as well as the commoners. 

 “Stone told his father you gave him splinters near his eyes.” Claggor was leaning against the fence watching Vi meticulously work. “Do you think his owner will bring up his injury to Lord Stark?”

Vi smirked. “Nah. That entire hut is full of cowards.” She ran her fingers along the rigid sides before grabbing the tool to smooth it out. “Only splinters. Serves him right, that one. He called my mother a whore.”

“He didn’t.”

“He meant to!” Vi snapped. She set the tool down and sighed. “And even then, Stone’s mother was also a whore.”

Claggor nodded. “My mother was too. Before she met my father. Young girls without work or their own name. It’s a shame what it comes down to.”

Vi shook her head. “I’m not ashamed to say what my mother was. But it’s the way Deckard says it that just—” Her jaw clenched through her anger. “Makes me want to kill him.”

Claggor understood but said nothing.

Vi finished her work and inspected it. “Now, look at us. A bunch of bastards in the north. Brought in by the Hound himself.” She looked at Claggor. “Makes you wonder, huh?”

“I don’t wonder. I’m only grateful.” Claggor reached for the smoothly sanded swords. “I’m glad Lord Vander brought you here. You’re a good friend, Lady Vi.”

Vi sighed, wanting to correct him. But she froze when she spotted who was quickly approaching. She handed Claggor her pile of wooden swords and sent the boy off. Waiting as Nathar and Cregan quickly approached. 

One was happy to see her. The other… not so much.

Nathar ignored everyone else and headed straight for Vi. He grabbed the front of her leather vest and yanked her forward. “The Light of the Seven,” he hissed out angrily.

Cregan froze and frowned at his older brother’s actions. “Nathar.”

“Get off me!” Vi roughly shoved him off. “The hell's the matter with you?”

Nathar pressed forward. Angry for nothing and everything. And Vi was an easy target. He roughly jabbed Vi’s shoulder. “So sensitive, are you?” Vi backed away and he quickly followed. “What gods do you serve?”

“The old gods,” Vi quickly answered. She backed up until she hit the workshop table. She gave her best ‘do not fuck with me’ impression, but Nathar ignored it. 

He stepped into her space and glared down at her. “No. Lord Vander told you to pray to them. So like the good trained bitch you are, you obeyed.” And placed both hands on the table, trapping his half sister. “When you pray for my demise at night. When you pray that your whore mother were still here,”

Vi was shaking with her anger. 

Cregan stepped forward. “Nathar, let it go.”

Nathar glared a righteous fire into Vi. “She’s fine. Answer me, bastard. What gods do you whisper to at night?”

Vi’s jaw clenched. She looked at Cregan, then back at Nathar. “Mother, Father… Stranger—”

“I knew it.” Nathar stepped away, appearing satisfied. “You were never a true northerner!”

Vi frowned. “And why does it matter who I pray to? You think every wife a Stark marries into was praying to the old gods? When you marry the Princess of Piltover, you’ll be raising your children in the Faith of the Seven.”

Nathar scoffed. “She thinks she’s so perfect. Embarrassing me in front of my family.”

Vi was slowly getting it, though still not understanding why Nathar chose now to pick on her. “Is this about the Princess? Did you ask for blessings from the wrong god in front of— omph! ” Vi doubled over when Nathar kneed her in the gut.

Cregan was afraid to step in. “Stop this. Both of you!”

But Vi wasn’t a pushover as Nathar thought. Using all her strength, she shoved him backwards. Nathar almost lost his balance and Vi kicked him hard in the stomach.

He groaned. “You bitch!” He saw Claggor holding the pile of practice swords and reached for them. “Give me those, fat boy!” He grabbed two and threw one at Vi’s feet. He got into position and rolled his neck. “Come on, Violet. One Stark to another. Duel me.”

“Nathar, father will be here shortly,” Cregan tried.

Nathar smiled. “And he’ll be proud to see his children practicing. Pick it up, Snow!”

Vi stared at the sword and frowned. She had no idea what could have possibly incited this reaction from her brother. But she was down for any sort of sparing opportunity. The only downside of this particular one, she was not very good at sword fighting. Not the way Nathar was formally trained. Vi quickly snagged the sword and straightened up.

Doing her horrible best to match Nathar’s stance. 

Vi was decent at the sword.

While Nathar…

He swung and twirled it expertly. Smirking the entire time. Nathar trained with his older brother Bran. And the oldest Stark boy had trained with the southern knights. Vi looked down at her hand holding the wooden handle. If this were a different sort of fight, she’d beat Nathar easily. But this would be good practice.

Time to put her and Powder’s secret training to good use.

Vi raised her weapon. “What’s this all about?”

“Teaching you to be a Stark.” Nathar appeared as a predator stalking his prey. His bright hazel eyes reflected the sadism of a direwolf.

Vi tried her best to match his stance, without it looking forced.

Nathar lunged and swung his blade low. Vi brought down her own to deflect it. But her older brother kept brutally swinging. Spinning around and being fancy with his style. Vi felt overwhelmed, but did her best to block every strike.

“Ah!” She jerked to the side when the wood struck her arm.

Nathar appeared like a mad prince. Ruthlessly taking his anger out on the wrong person. Vi’s sword was lost and she had to cover her face with her arms. 

“Nathar!” A voice called out.

Vi’s ears were ringing and she ducked under one particular swing and lunged at Nathar, tackling him to the ground. She started swinging punches at him.

He easily overpowered Vi. Headbutting her hard.

Vi felt an explosion of pain and heat erupt from face and head. She fell backwards and stared up. Realizing Nathar had struck her with the sword instead. He didn’t press further. Whatever feeling he was chasing fled from Nathar as he looked up and paled.

Vi grunted as she stood up. “You’re a fucking coward, Nate.” She wiped her nose and turned to leave but stopped when she noticed Lord Vander standing there. “Father.”

Vander remained stoic. Holding the reins of two horses, looking from Vi to Nathar and back again. Lady Ariana appeared with Powder and the twins. She gasped when she saw Vi. She wisely remained silent.

Lord Vander gave Powder the reins and marched towards Vi.

Vi winced and tried to appear normal. She flinched from pain as Vander roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up. “What happened here?”

His question was directed at his son, not Vi.

Nathar wiped the bloodied wooden blade on his pants and shrugged. “Practicing.” He placed it on the workshop table. 

Vander looked down at Vi’s face. Eyes roaming possibly bruises and scrapes. “Practicing. Hm, and who’s idea was this?”

His question was for everyone.

And all three Stark children remained silent.

Vi trembled. “I tripped, my Lord.”

“Not what I asked.” Vander let go and walked towards his oldest boys. He stopped in front of Cregan. A son who can hardly keep his mouth shut, remained silent. “I can count on you, boy. What happened here?”

Cregan slowly looked up to his father. He shook his head and shrugged. “I didn’t see anything this time. I—they were practicing when I got here.”

Vander was getting frustrated. He stood in front of Nathar and he looked him over. Only a boot print across his chest—where someone clearly kicked him away. Vander was no fool. He could see the one sided difference between Vi and Nathar. How Vi was now sporting a roughed up appearance while her brother was clean of any ‘practice injury.’ 

Lady Ariana appeared beside Nathar, cupping his face and stroking his hair as though he were still a child. “Are you hurt?”

Nathar tried to pull away. “I’m fine.”

“Let me have a look.”

Vander scoffed. “Enough, my love. What happened here has obviously been brewing for a while.” Nathar swallowed hard as Vander stepped into his personal space. “What differences you think you have with her, drop it now. You share blood. You’re both Northman—the fucking Queen is here!” he hissed out. “And you’re behaving like this? A mockery of you. You’re both Starks.”

“She’s a bastard,” Nathar spoke in a whisper.

Lady Ariana remained still.

Vander looks at Nathar. “Bastard or not, she has our blood. She’s just as much a Stark as all my children.” He walks away without another word.

Vi was still standing where she was before. Vander nudged her. “Come on, this horse is yours. Grab your cloak and we’ll be off.”

Vi’s head was throbbing but she grabbed the reins from the Vander. “My Lord, I don’t think I should join the Starks for these religious prayers.”

Vander grunted while climbing his horse. “A different matter. Deserters from the Night’s Watch have been caught. I want all my children there to see how the Lord of Winterfell deals out punishment.”

Lady Ariana heard everything. “Even the twins, my love?”

Dywen and Eddard.

“Especially them.”

Lady Ariana appeared torn. “They are too young to witness such things.”

Vander was staring at Vi while he spoke. “They won’t be children forever. I need them beside me.”

Vi nodded before hopping onto her horse, wincing the entire time.

“You gave Vi their horse,” the Lady pointed out. 

“They’ll be safer in the carriage,” was the last thing Vander said before he rode off towards the front gates. Benzo and the other men quickly followed.

Nathar was rubbing his jaw and approaching the horses. “I’ll ride with Powder, mother.”

Lady Ariana kissed Powder’s hair. “Keep her safe.”

Vi was tightening her cloak and waited. 

Powder was watching Vi the entire time. “I want to ride with Violet.”

“You’ll be safer with Nathar.” Lady Ariana helped her daughter onto the horse. “Up you go, my love.”

Vi licked her swollen lips and sighed. She gently tugged on the reins and the horse obeyed her silent command. 

Vander felt too old for this shit.

Sibling rivalry was never something he grew up with. An only son with 5 sisters. But he was not only a father but Lord of Winterfell. All eyes fell on him on how he handled disputes within his own family. Benzo gave him a slight nod before riding ahead. Vander knew his men were watching. He needed to speak up for the bastard he brought to the north. 

Even now.

Trotting on horseback to deal a righteous punishment for a kid who ran away from the Night’s Watch. Probably a starving boy who stole from the wrong lord. He rode his horse close to Vi, who winced every time her beast stepped too harshly.

Once they got to where the runaway was being held, Vander quickly jumped off his horse and held onto Vi’s reins. “Listen to me.”

His oldest daughter sniffed harshly and wiped at her brow that stopped bleeding. “Yes, my Lord?” her tone was that of a spoiled child, but Vander knew better. 

Vi was tired. 

But her spirit wasn’t broken. 

Vander felt a new burden placed in his hands. He already lost the trust of his wife when he brought Vi home, and now he was slowly losing his second son. Vander was naive to think bringing Vi to Winterfell was a sign from the old gods. And perhaps it was. And his wife and son were mere mortals who wouldn’t understand. 

The Lord of Winterfell patted Vi’s leg in a soothing manner. Vander wasn’t one for affection, less to even offer. But he was doing his best. “You can’t keep letting him get to you. You hear me?”

Vi chuckled humorlessly. “My Lord, I don’t go around craving to be a practice dummy for Nate.”

Vander’s frown deepened. “He did seek you out then? To punish you?”

“No.” Vi immediately answered. Vi looked her father in the eyes this time. “I wanted to challenge him, he accepted and I got my ass beat for it.” Small truths layered with a false story.

She was lying and they both knew it. 

“But I’ve learned my lesson, my Lord.” 

Vander stepped away as Vi slid off her horse. “Lesson?”

Vi adjusted her cloak and smirked. “Never bring a sword to a wolf brawl.” She flexed her fists. “Next time, I’ll give him something to cry about.”

The laugh Vander let out was genuine. Even his large shoulders shook with amusement. Vi was smiling as well. 

Lord Vander gave Vi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re definitely a Stark. And you’re one tough kid, I’ll give you that. Anyone else would’ve fallen on their ass and refuse to rise again.”

Vi’s expression softened. “I suppose I get it from my father.”

Vander stepped closer and cupped the non-injured side of his daughter’s face. “I wish you'd gotten more from me, Violet.” His sorrow reflected his age, and Vi knew he was referring to her mother. “You have her heart. A good one. Don’t lose that.” He whispered before walking away towards the bound boy.

Vi swallowed hard and quickly went to help Powder off her horse. Nathar had the decency to appear mildly apologetic. And by ‘apologetic’, Nathar openly ignored looking in Vi’s direction and quickly walked past his sister.

“Don’t keep father waiting,” he admonished quietly.

Cregan was jumping off his horse, while looking in Vi’s direction. He appeared afraid, scared he let down his sister in his silence. The twins also knew what really happened, and no one said a word.

Vi ignored them all except Powder. She lifted her hands. “Let’s go, Powder.”

The little Lady slid off the horse into Vi’s awaiting hands. Her eyes were red like she’d been crying. 

Vi sighed. “Come on. Don’t do this. Father wouldn’t appreciate it.” She reached up to wipe her sister's tears away.

Powder angrily pushed Vi’s hands away. “Don’t! You don’t get to pretend that Nathar isn’t cruel to you.”

“I have no choice, Powder. I’m a bastard wanted by no one.”

“I want you here.” Powder buried her face in Vi’s cloak and cried. “I want you here forever. Please. Don’t leave me because of him.”

Vi smiled sadly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Powder. And I get it. I really do. I don’t love it. I don’t appreciate the way Nathar treats me, nor do I love the pure contempt from Lady Ariana, but that's life for me. And I’d be a fool to complain about it. I don’t hunger, and I have a bed to sleep on every night. I’m a bastard, but there are worse places to be.”

I’ve seen them, Vi thought to herself.

Powder sniffed loudly. “It still sucks seeing you get hurt by your family.”

“I know. But it’s not all of them. I still have a loving little sister.” Vi gently pulled away to wipe her little sister’s eyes. “No more tears, okay? Not for me, nor for my life. Be brave like a Stark. Come on, we don’t want to keep father waiting.”

Lord Vander was drawing out his sword, Fyre’s Bane, when Vi and Powder stood next to their siblings. Vander held up the sword and prayed loud enough for his men to hear. 

Vi stood behind Powder, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t look away. Father will know.”

Powder, for her part, remained a stone. “Don’t worry.” She glared at Nathar before looking at the boy who was kneeling on the log. “...I won’t.”

Lord Vander swung down his blade.

There weren't cheers of joy, but a silence that followed. Vander nodded, and the soldiers gathered the body to burn. And all his children were there to witness the Hound dealing out a righteous Punishment. 

Nathar scoffed before approaching his father. He would have to clean the blade for him. He took it from his father and refrained from his open disgust while he wiped off the blood. 

Lord Vander wiped his mouth. “They all did good.”

Nathar nodded and looked over his shoulder at his younger siblings. “Powder was the only one looking forward to being here.”

The thought troubled Vander. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”

“More like her father’s daughter.” Nathar gently corrected. “A perfect leader in the making. She’ll make a good wife one day.”

“I doubt that. But, I mean that in the best way for little Powder.” Vander leaned against the tree.

Nathar handed Vander his cleaned blade. He would inherit the weapon, if he were going to be Lord of Winterfell. That title now fell to Cregan. The next in line. The teen boy swallowed and shook off the feeling. “The Hound of the North creates warriors for children. Bran was an example of that. The Stark name is loyal and kind.”

Vander sheathed his sword and gave it to Benzo to tie onto his horse. He looked at the seventeen year old boy that stood before him. The one that resembled Vander the most, and yet—, “You’ll be better than me, boy. I know you will. War is not something the Starks flee from. But we end them for good.”

Nathar’s jaw tensed as he thought about it. “When I marry the Kiramman Princess, I will be better. For the glory of our house and the Starks—”

Vander grabbed the front of Nathar’s cloak and pulled him in closer. “Remember your purpose, boy. When you marry the Princess, you will no longer be a Stark. You’ll be a Kiramman. You won’t wave our banners, and you will raise your children in the Faith of the Seven. You’ll unite our houses to end the northern wars for good.”

Vander walked away without another word.

While Nathar stared off where his father once stood. He sniffed harshly and angrily wiped at his face. “I’m a Stark. I’m a Stark!” He punched the tree.

Vi and Powder were waiting near their horses when Cregan slowly approached. 

Lady Powder crossed her and stood in front of Vi, much to her sister’s amusement. “Leave her alone. She’s not talking to anyone.”

Cregan smiled tightly and held up his gloved hands. “Easy, Powder. I mean no harm to our sister.” He held Vi’s gaze. “And you know that.”

Powder continued to glare. “Your words do not reflect your actions.”

Cregan let out a deep sigh, as though disappointed in himself. “I know. I should've spoken up. I should've said something about Nathan. But I didn't. Will you forgive me?”

The youngest daughter glared at her older brother. "No."

The fifteen year old boy appeared more mature in that hour. He humble himself to the women in his family. "I'm sorry, Vi. I'm sorry I'm not as brave as you." He held out his gloved hand. "You're my sister. We have the same amount of Stark blood within us. Nothing will change that."

Vi stepped around Powder and placed her hand on Cregan’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t the one who beat me with a wooden sword.”

“Silence is cowardice.”

Vi pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not always.”

“There you are.” Nathar announced while carrying one of his sleeping brothers, Dywen. “Come along now, children. One of the knights caught sight of a direwolf just over the hills.” He looked directly at Vi as he spoke. “ All of his children.”

Vi frowned. “There are no direwolves south of the wall.”

Nathar smirked. “Then winter is coming for you, Snow, one wolf at a time.”

Cregan and Powder both appeared cautious, yet excited Vi was allowed to join them. 

The Starks didn’t have to travel far through their northern woods to spot the first Weirwood tree. Vi remained on her horse next to Benzo while Vander and his five children knelt in front of it to pray. 

To bless their lineage.

Their treaties with neighboring nations (albeit, very weak nowadays).

And Nathar’s soon to be betrothal ceremony with the Kiramman Princess.

Benzo watched Vi toy with the reins, purposely avoiding to look in her family’s direction. “You’re one of them, y’know?”

Vi didn’t react, as though she didn’t hear him. 

An old friend from Vander’s days in the capitol was now living farther north than Benzo ever dreamed of. He knew of Vi long before the north did. Perhaps even before Lord Vander got word of his bastard daughter on the seas with his own bastard brother: Silco. 

“You don’t have to pray to their gods to be one of ‘em,” Benzo continued speaking quietly to Vi, who remained still.

The cold winds blew, but the woods were silent at this hour. Benzo knew the girl was listening. “Whatever mockery the northmen make of ya, ignore them all.” He steadied his horse and slowly approached Vi’s. “No matter what the south sees in ya. To us, here in Winterfell, yer a Stark, milady. And a damn good one.”

His words weren’t many, but they struck deep and pure.

Vi nodded curtly and swiftly got off her horse. Silently making her way towards her family. Her cloak felt heavier at that moment. An invisible burden placed on Vi’s shoulders, to be seen and not cast aside. She quietly knelt next to Lord Vander.

The man quickly placed his arm around the young teen, and held her close. “That’s my girl.”

Vi melted into Vander’s embrace, not realizing how much she craved to be wanted . Cared for. Loved.

Nathar kept his eyes closed while he silently seethed to himself. 

Cregan and Vi slowed their horse and quickly hopped off to rush to the scene before them. A trail of gore and blood that led towards the small decline. Lord Vander and Benzo were right behind them. Vi peered over the edge of the steep hill before sliding down the loose gravel. Her younger brothers were close behind her. 

Powder was about to chase after them before her father stopped her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why? I want to see it too!” Powder glared at her father.

“Hold it.” Vander looked over the ledge and grimaced at the scene before him. He looked around at the trail of carnage that began on the main road. “It was being hunted.”

Nathar was standing next to his father. “Who would hunt a direwolf in the north?”

“Someone who sees it as a bad omen.” Lord Vander looked at their surrounding woods and nodded to his soldiers who immediately took off to find whatever it was— whomever it was to do this. “Direwolves are never this far south of the wall.”

Nathar swallowed hard and looked at his siblings surrounding the body of the fallen beast. “Winter, perhaps?”

“No.” Vander shook his head before slowly descending the hill. “Keep Powder up here.”

Vi was kneeling closer to the beast's head while Cregan stood behind her. Vander could see the pups still clinging to their mother’s body for warmth. The twins were further up the hill, watching from a safe distance. 

Lord Vander stood next to Vi and looked at the scene created before him. 

“She’s dead,” Vi whispered. She was looking at the small pond where the direwolf was laying next to. She appeared saddened, while also remembering something. 

Lord Vander covered his mouth and sighed loudly. “What’s the girl doing down here? So far south.”

Vi picked up one of the direwolf pups. “Mother of five. Do you want to hold it?” She handed the puppy off to Powder who eagerly took it. 

Vander glared at Nathar who shrugged. “Can’t keep a wolf chained around excitement, father.”

“Where would they go?” Lady Powder’s small voice reflected her own sorrow for the fallen beast. “Their mother’s dead.”

“They don’t belong down here, my lord.” Benzo pointed out.

Vander stood up. “Give her a quick death. They won’t last without their mother.”

Nathar unsheathed his dagger and grabbed the puppy out of Powder’s hands. “Give it here, Pow.”

Who screamed at him. “No!”

“Put away your blade.” Vi glared at Nathar.

Nathar smirked. “I don’t take orders from you, bastard.”

“Please, father!” Powder gripped on Vander’s cloak while he walked past her.

Lord Vander felt another burden rise. “I’m sorry, Powder. It’s for their own protection.”

Powder looked like she was about to fall apart, watching as Nathar raised his blade to strike the young pup.

Vi quickly rose to her feet. “Lord Stark!” she yelled, gaining everyone’s attention, including Nathar who stopped his blade. Vi looked at Powder then down at the direwolf puppies. “There’s 5 pups.” She swallowed hard, looking Nathar in the eyes while she spoke. “One for each of the Stark children.”

Nathar slowly lowered his blade and stared at the puppy in his hands.

“The direwolf is the sigil of your house.” Vi was now looking directly at her father. “You were meant to have them.”

Powder looked hopeful, although still angry at Nathar. Cregan and the twins all looked at their father for his decision. Even Nathar, having fully sheathed his weapon, waited for Lord Vander.

Vander glared, though not at Vi; angry with himself. He looked down at Powder. “You will train them yourselves,” he began.

But Powder was already squealing in excitement, grabbing the puppy from Nathar’s hands.

“You will feed them yourselves.” Vander’s scowl was firmly in place. “And if they die, you will bury them yourselves.” He headed back up the hill without another word.

Powder was holding onto her puppy as though they’ve known each other all their life.

Vi picked up two pups and handed them to Nathar who handed them to Cregan. Then grabbed the last two. Nathar held out his hands once more, Vi didn’t hesitate to hand them to her older brother. “Handle them gently.”

Nathar nodded and looked around. “That’ll do it, Snow. Let’s get home, everyone.”

Powder looked up at Vi. “What about you? Will you not take a pup? The twins can share one.”

Vi cupped Powder’s cheek. “I’m not a Stark. Let’s go.” 

Nathar was ahead of them and Cregan was waiting for his sisters to head back up the hill. Vi heard a small squeak, barely audible whimper coming from the tree to her left. 

She frowned and leaned down. Under a pile of nuts and leaves, she felt something. 

Nathar slowed to a stop. “What is it now?”

Holding the smallest pup by the scuff, Vi stood up and showed her siblings the sixth direwolf pup.

Cregan looked excited. “The runt of the litter!”

Nathar actually smiled this time. “That one’s yours, Snow.”

Powder shared his sentiment. “The wolves of the north. Through death, life is found again,” she quoted an old scripture. “We lost Bran, but found you. These puppies lost their mother, yet they found us.”

Vi sighed and tucked the puppy inside her cloak. “A coincidence.”

“A miracle,” Powder corrected before following her brothers up the hill.

Chapter Text

“During the Battle of Blue Stronghold, a Kiramman Queen fought alongside her men,”

The skies were black with the midnight winter winds. Clouds of ash filled the air, choking the lungs of the defenders. It had never snowed so far south before. But, on this night, fire and ice were at war. 

“Argh!” a woman shouted while blocking the blunt force of a sword. She snarled at the soldier while slicing his throat clean open. The fountain of blood was endless during this battle.

She looked up when the skies were illuminated by fire. The dragons were here. She grabbed the closest soldier. “Ready the wall! The castle will not fall on this night!”

He ran to prepare the weapons. 

The Queen readied her dual swords and ran into the fray. 

“…the Queen was either foolish or brave, risking the Kiramman throne solely to be the one to silence the beasts in the skies.”

The explosions caused by the dragons were something of beauty, even when the screams of horror soon followed. But nature was on their side. The winds were far too cold on this night and the ice in the air slowed the dragons. They shouldn’t have flown so far north.

The Queen, Cerenna, spotted a younger dragon flying too low to the ground. Its rider was immediately impaled by arrows. The dragon cried for them and the Queen knew their bond ran deeper than blood. 

Formed by magic. 

Ripped apart by iron. 

Cerenna wiped the blood from her eyes and looked towards the fallen wall of the castle where the weapons remained. She made a quick decision. 

“The Queen was an exceptional fighter, both with a sword… and with the arrow. No matter the size.”

The rider of one of the larger dragons spotted the Queen and rained the fires of hell upon her. “Rexes, dracarys!”

Cerenna quickly ducked and rolled out of the way. But her position was up.“Shit! Keep the gates closed!” she commanded.

She ran hard, breathing heavy. Fatigued from the weight of the armor, and the length of this endless battle. Cerenna scaled the outside of the walls. Once there, she noticed most of the main weapons were destroyed by dragon fire and the men were scorched to death.

Cerenna looked up, hearing the thunderous wings above her. She jumped and narrowly avoided the fire. She grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows on her way., running along the tall defense wall. Her limbs grew numb, and the Queen smiled. It was only growing colder by the hour.

A few minutes was all she needed. 

“It was the coldest night that never seemed to end. If soldiers didn’t die by a blade or fire, they perished from the cold.”

Queen Cerenna grabbed an arrow and aimed into the black sky. Waiting.

“And the cold snuffed the warmth; even from the dragons.”

Cerenna steadied her breathing and focused on the winds and the cries of her people being slaughtered below. She will end this tonight. She will—

Cerenna released the bow just as the dragon flew into view. She didn’t bother to duck out of the way when she felt the heat of the fire miss her completely. The arrow struck the dragon’s eye. Cerenna grabbed another and shot more into the blackening skies. 

“Come out, you coward!” the queen taunted. 

That’s when she saw it. One of the ballista unbroken and loaded.  Cerenna quickly made her way through the rubble towards the weapon. She mounted it and aimed it towards the skies. “I’m right here, you scaly fucks!”

The reader froze at the next paragraph, but she continued reading. “With a single choice, the Queen changed the direction of the battle.”

The recoil of the ballista didn’t deter the Queen from reloading it quickly and firing it at the dragon. The fire came quicker than before. Cerenna’s eyes widened as she felt weightless. Flying, or being tossed by the sheer force of dragon’s breath. Her bones cracked under the force as she hit the brick walls. 

Cerenna lay motionless in the burning rubble.

Her finger twitched, and her eyes opened. She caught sight of a final ballista nearly two floors down on the lower walls. Cerenna made a choice right then and there: this battle would be their final one. The screeches of the dragon flying overhead didn’t deter her or incite fear. 

The Queen had a nation to protect. 

“Grrngh.” With a pained groan, Queen Cerenna rose to her feet and limped. Then sped walked, then jogged, and full sprinted before leaping off the wall. Her ankles may have broken upon impact, but Cerenna crawled towards the ballista and mounted it. 

“Loyalty,” She had to wind this one, then aimed it at the dragon that was flying towards her. “Honor,” Cerenna stilled her breathing. “”Maiden. For the Kiramman name.” She waited until she saw the flames, and waited even more as the heat scorched her skin. Cerenna fired the ballista when the rider was visible. 

The young rider was killed instantly. The dragon’s cry could be heard throughout the plains. A distracted beast that was easily overpowered. 

“Mother!” a young girl. The youngest living daughter of Queen Cerenna ran to her mother’s body. She screamed when she saw the state Cerenna’s body was in. Armor melted to her flesh. “Look at me!” a young 14 year old Cassandra demanded the queen. “Breath! You’ll live through this!”

Cerenna was barely a human at this point. Unrecognizable. She slowly turned to face Cassandra. “Rule with an iron heart.” Her voice was almost inaudible.

Cassandra was crying while she risked being burned while cradling her mother’s head. 

Cerenna almost smiled. “Rule with a fair heart.”

Cassandra shook her head defiantly. “Then live and swear me in. Don’t leave me like this! I need you.”

Cerenna lifted her hand, reaching for Cassandra. “Rule with a lov—” Her ghost left her shortly after midnight. In her youngest daughter’s arms while the cheers of the city celebrated the death of the last dragon. 

…

…

Princess Caitlyn stared at the text in front of her. “Rule with a loving heart,” she recited, even though the quote was unfinished to honor the Queen that had perished for their Great House. “In the first quarter-hour of the morn, Queen Cerenna served her final breath for our house. Her only living daughter, Princess Cassandra, was later sworn in on her 18th birthday. Four years later.”

Elora leaned in closer. “There’s a drawing of the dragon if you skip a few pages.”

Caitlyn perked up. “Truly?”

The young girls flipped through the pages, daily reading assignments quickly forgotten in the dark and dull light of the study lounge.

Tobias was sitting on a chair reading through the letters from King’s Landing. “...they were in dire need of aid and the mad King let them all starve. One dragon short of burning the common folk to the ground—one states.” Tobias read the letter that was delivered by a raven. He crossed his legs and sat further in the leather chair. “There’s an unease in the west in House Baratheon. Lord Robert is standing in unity with House Lannister. Will they move against the Iron Throne, is the question. Would you do anything, dear?” 

Queen Cassandra was out on the balcony, leaning against the polished marble guardrail. “Hm,” was all she said, tapping her nails against the golden chalice in her hands. She was glaring at the dragon’s skull above the main doorway. The very beast that burned her Queen in front of her eyes. “I want to take it down.”

Tobias looked up from the letters. His attention immediately on his wife. He followed Cassandra’s gaze and looked over his shoulder. He spotted the skull. The skull of Rexes, a young adolescent dragon with an even younger rider, rested above the queen’s crypts. “Well, if it pleases your grace, we can have it formally removed.”

Cassandra scoffed. “It doesn’t deserve anything formal. An ash pit is too honorable.” she looked towards her daughter. Her only heir to the throne. Caitlyn’s attention was already on her mother. “When you’re queen,” Cassandra mumbled into her chalice, “...do as you please with it. But it is my mother's final wish that whatever it may be that ended her, be hung up in the castle for all to see during my premature reign.”

Cassandra sipped her wine and nodded to her daughter. “A fierce and fine queen you’ll be.”

Caitlyn said nothing, only looking at the dragon’s skull on the wall. If it pleases me, I’d marry whoever I desire. Accepting her fate, Caitlyn briefly looked at Elora who sensed where her thoughts went to. 

Elora covered the princess’s hand with her own. “In due time, my princess.”

And Caitlyn clung to it. 

“Argh!” Vi held up her guard. The wooden practice sword stopped the blunt swing from her brother.

But Nathar was much stronger. 

Vi staggered backwards and corrected her stance once again. She held the sword up in the same manner as a novice. From all the times she practiced with Powder, perhaps Vi was learning an incorrect form all along. 

Nathar noticed this and sneered. “One good hit, Snow, and I’ll allow you to fight me in whatever savage way you desire.”

Vi steadied her breathing. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Nathar scoffed before raising his wooden blade and charged at Vi. “Hit me, bastard!”

Powder and Cregan, along with the twins, were leaning against the gates watching their siblings spar.

Cregan was all for it, even stepping in when Vi got too winded from being kneed in the gut. “Her form continues to fail when she’s tired. That’s not very good.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Powder grumbled. “Nathar’s cheating. That’s why.”

Cregan chuckled softly. “There’s no cheating during sparring, Powder.”

Powder angrily kicked a pebble. “He changes the rules every time Vi has the upper hand on him! How’s that not cheating?”

Cregan paid more attention to the way his siblings were fighting. “That, he is not. I would have said something about it. Vi knows the rules well enough now. They’ve been at it since we found our companions a few months ago.” He leaned down to pet his direwolf pup, Rob. “Vi’s stance is in favor for close combat,”

“Swords are close combat.” Powder pointed out.

Cregan smirked. “Closer than that.”

Vi rolled through a block and tripped Nathar, causing him to fall on his back. “Ah!” But the skilled fighter rolled away as Vi swung the sword like she was swinging an ax, tiring herself even more, clearly frustrated with this current fight. 

Cregan smiled when he spotted the opening. “Vi is one dangerous fighter. She adapts well.”

Nathar was too focused on rolling to a stand, he left himself open for just a moment. Vi changed her chopping motion, her gaze hardened and her breathing steadied. 

Cregan’s smile widened. “Deceit.”

Vi wasn’t tired at all. She was pretending so Nathar would slowly drop his guard.

Powder was getting it. “Yes! Stab him, Violet!”

Vi shoved the sword forward and jabbed Nathar in the gut. His leather armor caught most of it, but Vi had a powerful hit. Bingo. Wounded shot, and then Vi was able to fight Nathar the way she wanted to. She quickly dropped the wooden sword and tackled her older brother to the dirt. 

Nathar was expecting this, but it was too late. Vi got in a few good hits.

Cregan straightened up. “That’s it, Snow!” he shouted in encouragement. “Don’t block with your face!”

Lord Vander was entering the practice yard, followed by Lord Commander Hoam and Benzo. Vander picked up one of the twins and they watched as Vi and Nathar just punched the shit out of each other. “Who’s winning now?”

Powder and Cregan noticed their father. “Vi,” they both answered.

Vander nodded. “Good. That’s good. She’s getting better, but it’s not enough. She requires proper training with the sword,” he spoke to the Lord Commander who nodded his agreement.

“I was to train as well!” Powder shouted. “Can we train together?”

Lord Vander frowned. “Not any time soon for you, Powder.”

“Ugh.” Powder rolled her eyes. 

Lord Vander watched his oldest children fight until Nathar had Vi in a nasty headlock. 

Vi was struggling against her brother, causing Nathar to smile in triumph. “Yield, Snow.”

Vi grunted and struggled again. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t want to lose.

They were still rolling on the dirt. Nathar had Vi securely choked in front of him. “Yield or sleep!”

Vi went still in defiance. Clearly she would rather pass out from lack of air than admit defeat.

Their father didn’t want it to happen. “That’s enough, Snow!” Vander shouted.

Nathar flinched and loosened his hold on Vi who slumped to the ground.

Vi gasped for air and rolled over, looking over her shoulder at their father. “I didn’t yield!”

Vander glared. “No matter. I’ll have you trained properly. Yielding is not a sign of weakness. Finish this another time! All of you need to bathe and get cleaned up. We head to the Great Plains in the morning. Vi, you’ll be dressed accordingly.”

Nathar frowned upon hearing this. “The bastard is coming with us?”

“Your sister is coming with us,” Vander whispered before walking away with his youngest children. 

Vi rubbed her throat and smirked. “Easy now, Nate. I’ll try not to steal your soon-to-be-bride.”

Nathar kicked Vi square in the chest, sending her back on the floor. “You little shit!”

But Vi was laughing the entire time. She may have lost their sparring, but she won the battle of come-backs. 

Vi tried not to flinch when the septa poked her neck with the needle… yet again. “You’re stabbing me.”

“Stay still, girl,” septa Mordane scolded anyway.

“I didn’t move.”

“You’re moving now!”

Vi sighed and waited as the septa began removing the leather tunic.

Roann was sitting in the corner of the room, smirking and giggling to herself while she watched and patched Vi’s pants. “Sit, wolf. Vi’s a good girl. Just like her pet.”

Vi’s direwolf pup wasn’t allowed in the castle. “She’s not a pet. Not yet, anyway.” Poor runt of the litter was treated as an unwanted hound. Vi could relate more to the animal than some of her own kin. 

“Nutmeg, you called her?” Roann asked.

Vi visibly relaxed when septa Mordane stepped away to mark the measurements with another needle. “Nightwing. Powder called her nuts because I found the pup in a pile of them.”

Septa Mordane was a cranky old woman. “You lot should’ve left nature well alone. Those wolves don’t belong down here. A quick and easy death would’ve been more merciful.”

Vi jaw clenched. “We feel a connection with them! Like they know who we are. Our bloodline. If you hate the wolves so, our own sigil, then tell that to Lord Stark.”

“I will!” The septa motioned for Vi to remove her shirt as well. 

Roann scowled. “Ugh, you’re both terrible. They’re just animals. And large stinky ones, at that.”

But the bastard froze when someone knocked on the door. Lord Vander peeked in. “Ah. Very good. You’re clothing Vi.” He fully stepped inside and Roann nodded her greeting. 

“It would be quicker if the lassy stopped moving,” Septa Mordane pointed out.

Vi pressed her lips into a thin line to refrain from getting herself in trouble. 

Vander said nothing, only crossing the small room to look at Vi’s wardrobe for their travels. He cupped Vi’s face and got a good look at his daughter. “You’re very beautiful when you get cleaned up like this.”

Vi seethed and pouted. “I don’t want to be pretty.”

“Ugly it is then.” Roann piped up in jest, causing Vi to glare at her.

Vander chuckled. “Very well. You’re handsome, kiddo.” He brushed the shortened side of Vi’s hair, now fully grown back, but he smiled when he realized Vi was keeping that side short on purpose now. “I’ll tell you now, when we get to the Great Plains, you’ll stay with Lord Commander Hoam or Roann in the room they provide us.”

“What’s the point of even going with you if I’m going to be locked up the entire time?”

“Because you’re mine,” Vander whispered. “And I’m not ashamed of you, Vi.”

Vi immediately felt relief at that moment. She covered Vander’s hands with her own. Much smaller, but just as powerful. “I won’t let you down. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Vander appeared broken. He shook his head. “Don’t let certain behaviors be expected of you, Vi. Just be yourself.  The first daughter of the Hound.”

Vi felt pushed under water at the saying. 

First daughter of the Hound. It had quite the beautiful message to it. 

It removed Vi’s true nature of being a bastard. A constant reminder of Vander’s infidelity to Lady Ariana. It allowed Vi to belong to the Stark name. To belong to a family. A pack of northern wolves.

But as they rode to Piltover, Vi remained behind all of Vander’s legitimate children. Even Powder and the twins were in a carriage so they could rest. Vi was in the back, riding alongside a carriage that Roann and the other servants were in. 

Roann peaked out every so often. “Back to the southern shores where you grew up, huh!”

Vi shook her head and allowed herself to smile. “I grew up on the western shores, along the Narrow Sea! House Greyjoy holds these waters.”

“Not House Kiramman?!” Roann shouted to Vi.

Vi shrugged as she watched the green pastures reveal themselves as they traveled through the Great Plains of House Kiramman. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure.”

“You need to be sure!” Roann shouted.

And she was right. 

Vi rode in on horse-back through the valleys that fed Westeros. Through the high steep mountains that ceased the dragons and their fires. Vi looked around and realized Piltover was very ordinary. And she why or what was so special about it.

Until they passed the Blue Stronghold.

All rubble and solidified ash at this point. Vi wondered why the Queen chose to keep it up in the state it was in. Perhaps an honor and reminder to the hundreds if not thousands of lives that were lost to the dragons. 

Vi wonders what the dragons were like, and if there would be more.

Once they passed the final gates of the Blue Stronghold, Vi actually gasped at the sheer wonder and beauty that were the Great Plains of Piltover. House Kiramman surely created a nation of their own to equal the size of Dorne. The kilometers and thousands of acres of farmlands. 

A small flowing river from the Riverlands and the great lakes. 

But it was the magnificent castle that caused Vi to dream.

The Starks didn’t travel on the King’s Road, nor did they have the hundreds of bannermen marching behind them. But Vi wasn’t familiar with these customs when she spotted Queen Cassandra and her King consort Tobias standing with her in the middle of the courtyard. A courtyard that was far too fancy and too beautiful for horses to be walking on.

But Vi kept forward, not wanting to embarrass her father or siblings. 

The horse keepers met the Starks. One young stable boy, dressed in fine linen, patiently waited for Vi to get off her horse. “My lady.” He bowed his head politely. “What do I call her?”

“Midnight,” Vi answered while preparing to get off her horse. Then she noticed Princess Caitlyn watching her. 

Midnight summer rain was the best for Vi to describe how beautiful the princess looked at this hour. Caitlyn’s dress could have been described as simple, but the elegance in its design was very fitting for the rebellious Princess who snuck away to shoot arrows with a Stark Bastard.

Caitlyn noticed Vi was looking at her. She smiled warmly and waved at Vi.

And the Stark Bastard fell off her horse in an attempt to appear normal. “Ah!”

Vi hit the stone floor with a grunt. 

“Gods, you’re a fucking embarrassment,” Nathar whispered loud enough for only Vi to hear while he helped her up. “Don’t shame father again.”

Vi was already planning on enlisting herself in the following hour for falling (not only in front of Caitlyn) but the Queen as well. “Yeah. War sounds better right about now.” She dusted her side and winced.

A soft giggle caught Vi’s attention. 

It was Princess Caitlyn covering her mouth, desperately trying not to laugh. Tobias cleared his throat to get his daughter to behave accordingly. Caitlyn instantly straightened up, but tried to look into the small crowds to find someone.

When Caitlyn’s attention fell on Vi once again, she couldn’t contain her wide smile. Too bright for the world to see. 

Vi held her breath and her heart clenched with pain.

Even if the Princess was laughing at Vi’s misfortune, the bastard of Winterfell would readily volunteer as a court jester. Never see an end to Caitlyn’s most captivating smile. Vi cleared her throat to focus as her family was being announced, though she grinned to herself. Perhaps the perilous joys of simple amusement weren’t so terrible.

Caitlyn was sitting in her room reading a history book about Essos.

The only side of history that felt equally intriguing, yet unnecessary. She would never cross the Narrow Seas. And Caitlyn wasn’t sure what the free lands thought of Westeros. 

But Caitlyn’s mind wasn’t on her schoolwork. 

Dread prevented any pleasant thoughts from rising. And the Princess felt caged in her own castle. “Perhaps, I could love him,” she told herself aloud. “A stranger in my bed. We’ve been promised to one another. Join our houses and bloodline. Form a new line of honor. Women are sold to Kings for less all the time. At least for me, I’ll have my own voice. Maybe love will soon follow.”

Hoping the words would dig deep, bind their claws in Caitlyn’s heart and love a man. 

“And if you don’t love him?” Lady Mel asked from across the smaller library. 

Elora was bringing the Princess more maps to study for her final. She smiled warmly. “Then the Princess can have who she desires, once she’s crowned Queen.”

Caitlyn arched her brow. “Bed whomever I want? Take on concubines you mean?” Her mind wandered off at the idea. Of allowing her body to be used for further her bloodline, while she took in the pleasures of a more feminine touch. Caitlyn shivered and blushed at the thought. “I don’t think my mother would approve.”

“If you’re crowned Queen, it means your mother is no longer around.” Mel slammed the book shut and looked over her shoulder. “But I doubt the ghost of your lineage would bother to haunt your bedmates. Nor would the realm care.”

“Or your King Consort,” Elora pointed out. “I’m sure the Stark Lord would crave his own… you know—other flavors .”

Mel placed the book back and grabbed another about the Battle of Blue Stronghold. “His own what, Elora? We cannot read your mind.”

Elora blushed while she sat down and handed Caitlyn the folded maps. “His strangeness. Is he not like yourself, Caitlyn?”

“Strangeness, you say?” Caitlyn grabbed the first map and opened it. Looking over the first plans of the North. Where the wall is, Queen’s Crown, Barrowton, White Harbor, and east towards Winterfell. Caitlyn had never traveled so far north before. 

Never in her life had she felt a chill burrow under her clothes and freeze her flesh. And it wasn’t even winter. Caitlyn thought of the rumors and mentally abhorred them. “I don’t think Nathar is like that. I’ve seen the way he acts around his sister’s handmaidens. The lords of Winterfell crave the warming touch of a woman and not of men.”

“As do you.” Mel smirked.

Caitlyn froze and looked around. “Well, damn your loose tongue, Medarda! What if my mother heard?!”

Elora smiled meekly. “I’m sure the Queen knows where your heart lies. A mother always knows. Her grace loves you unconditionally, Caitlyn.”

This didn’t elicit the emotion in Caitlyn as Elora thought. The young princess’s countenance darkened with grief-like anger. “If she knows, then why make me marry him?” She sniffled and the tears quickly followed. “Why make me do things I do not ever wish to do with a man. Even if it's… expected of me to continue my lineage? Why…? Why did my mother only have one daughter to carry on her reign? I wish I were the youngest of 5 daughters. Never to see the throne, never to see the crown—and live my life as I please.”

With a wife.

Historical battles forgotten, Mel immediately went to Caitlyn’s side to comfort her. “The queen was the youngest of 6 daughters, and in a single night—all the daughters and the queen perished to the dragons. And you know the queen has tried for more. Still-born hearts, or too premature to remain outside the womb. Whatever strain Cassandra’s mind and body went through during those battles, she was able to have you. Bring you here to our world. And my friend, you still have years ahead of you until you both marry. Dread not on these matters, dearest Caitlyn.” The daughter of House Kiramman’s great General reached over to soothe the Princess. 

Caitlyn rested her head against Mel’s shoulder. “If only I could wait hundreds of years.”

“If only,” Mel agreed.

A knock on the door disrupted the girls. Startling the Princess as she slowly sat up, Tobias peeked his head inside. “My dear, your betrothed is requesting to speak with you.”

“Now?” Caitlyn sat up. 

“Yes. The guards—” Tobias appeared put off. “Nathar is waiting in your private quarters.”

Caitlyn frowned at this. “Is that allowed?”

“The Queen allowed it.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “Her grace would. ”

“Caitlyn—” Tobias warned, but his daughter rushed past him. He sighed and looked at the general’s daughter and the handmaiden. Tobias smiled politely and left just as quickly. 

Caitlyn marched down the concrete stairs that resonated her anger in each step. “The fool he is!”

There was only so much one could do locked up in a corner of a castle. Especially one Vi didn’t know. 

Vi was leaning out the window looking at the great nation at this hour. “You should come see this, Ro. The sun’s setting and it’s creating a halo over the plains!”

“I can see it from here.” The handmaiden was sowing, fixing Powder’s dress for the following day. 

Vi didn’t even turn around. She was smiling at the warmer air. “It’s so pretty down here.”

Roann smirked. “You would think so.”

Vi scowled. “Don’t bring up earlier again. I already received every earful there was.”

Roann couldn’t contain her smile. “That and the attention of the Princess herself.”

Vi groaned loudly and hung her head low. “I know. Please don’t remind me.”

The handmaiden took pity on the bastard. “For what it's worth, my lady, Princess Caitlyn seems taken by you—for whatever god's awful reason that may be.”

Vi perked up and turned around. “Really?”

“No.” Roann bit her lip. “But you should see your face. Are you in love already? You hardly know her!”

Vi glared at the handmaiden. “You’re such a bitch.”

Roann winked then her eyes widened when she noticed Vi began climbing out of the window. “Where in god's name are you going? Stop that now!”

Vi was already out the window. “I see a ledge a few stories up. I need to take a look around! Don’t wait up!”

Roann tossed Powder’s dress on the floor in a panic. “Violet! Dammit.” Roann rushed to the window and peered out. Vi was always  an amazing climber. “Gods have mercy. Do not let the Queen see you!”

Vi wasn’t even breathing hard as she landed on the balcony of her choosing. The smooth stone almost caused Vi to slip and fall. Almost, but Vi was more clever than that. She realized this balcony led into a private room. A rather large one. 

There was a table filled with books and drawings, as well as some delicious looking snacks. Vi licked her lips and quickly approached the table. Grabbing handfuls of crackers and shoving them in her pockets before she spotted the meat. 

“Gods be good,” Vi moaned at the first flavor of juicy steak. 

Still warm, possibly served fairly recently. 

Vi grabbed a cup and sniffed the contents before taking a huge sip. Wine. Royal wine, though. Vi quickly chugged the entire contents and groaned. “Damn, money does buy quality wine.”

The books appeared like school books. Vi recognized a few. Definitely not the same as the ones her and Powder use back at Winterfell, but definitely similar. Vi reached for one of the rolled scrolls and arched her brow when she noticed it was a drawing of a wolf. A lonely beast that was standing at a peak looking over Winterfell. Vi was intrigued but mostly impressed by the great talent. 

She looked around and finally noticed a chaise beside a couch and much smaller table. Then she noticed the bed. 

“Oh.” Vi realized she was in a room… possibly a royal bedroom. 

Vi walked around, touching the posts on the bed, the material of the chaise and she smiled when she saw the portrait of a young Princess Caitlyn holding the neck of a longbow. Caitlyn had to have been a young child when the portrait was painted, but the fierceness in her eyes was wonderfully captured. Vi stepped closer and grinned when she noticed the young princess was painted with young wolves around her. Perhaps domesticated hounds, but the features were not lost on Vi.

“Princess surrounded by the Starks,” Vi whispered. She was going to reach for the frame, but she flinched when she heard someone shout. 

“How dare you! I did not allow this!”

Voices were raised in the neighboring room. It could’ve been the more public part of the bedroom, but Vi panicked when the voices grew much louder. Vi looked to the balcony and the door started to open. “Fuck.”

Nathar opened the door and looked inside the bedroom. He grinned, “Is this a hidden part of your room?”

Caitlyn brushed past him, clear frustration fully expressed on her features. “You may come in, my lord,” she announced sarcastically.

But the tone was lost on Nathar, who looked proud as he stepped inside. He shut the door behind him. “Are all the rooms like this in your castle?”

Caitlyn ignored him and poured herself a cup of wine. She downed and sighed. “No.”

Vi was peeking out of the slats in the closet door as Nathar walked around like he was already crowned king. And this was his castle. And he was already home. Vi frowned. She didn’t know Nathar too well, but she knew when he was drunk and he’s definitely been sipping the royal wine too much.

“Huh. Is the Queen’s chambers set up like this? I like this. We can be going at it while a meeting is happening in the next room.”

Caitlyn looked like she was about to shoot Nathar with her prized bow. “Is there a reason you wanted to see me? If not, please leave.”

Nathar fell onto the couch and laughed. That annoying high-pitch caw Nathar does when he knows he’s won at something. “To get to know you, my love. We’re going to be married. Husband and wife. I want to know you.”

Caitlyn’s attention snapped to the Stark boy. And she openly glared at him. “Princess,” she corrected. She looked at the table in front of her and frowned. Some of her food was clearly eaten, but Caitlyn didn’t care if the servants took some food—as long as they served the Princess with what she wanted. And half of her favorite crackers were missing. “Hm.” 

Nathar went on about his life in Winterfell, trying to keep the conversation going. “You’ve never truly met Bran, but let me tell you…”

Caitlyn already escaped inside her head. She filled the cup with wine and downed it all. Now would be the perfect time to get to know her betrothed. But there was something sickening about the Stark boy that made Caitlyn want to toss herself from the balcony. 

She met Bran once and it was horrifying how Caitlyn craved his presence rather than his brother’s. Caitlyn needed to shed her overcoat. She slid it off and began approaching her much smaller coat closet.

Vi was holding her breath while hiding in the very same closet. OhmygodI’msofuckingdead!

Princess Caitlyn was slowly making her way towards where Vi was at. 

She should’ve risked being seen by a drunk Nathar and ran to the balcony rather than—

Vi felt her heart nearly stop when Princess Caitlyn opened her closet door and gasped when she spotted her. They stared at one another for a few moments. Vi knew she was dead meat, or the Princess would have her head for sneaking into her private royal chambers. 

“What is it, my dear?” Nathar called out from the room. 

Vi looked afraid and shook her head—as though that would do anything in her favor. 

But Caitlyn bit her lip. “It’s nothing. One of my cloaks fell. But it had to have been from the draft—from an old servant's passage to the side.” She nodded her head towards the right.

And Vi immediately knew the Princess was helping her. She dropped to the floor and found the entrance. She pushed the door open and began to crawl through. Caitlyn waited a few moments until she knew her betrothed’s sister was gone and out of the room. 

When Caitlyn returned to the main room she froze when she saw Nathar in a half-naked state, “You’re—where’s your shirt?”

Nathar was standing next to the Princess’s bed. He even began loosening the ties on his trousers. He flexed his muscles and smirked. His charm fell flat on his single audience. “I figured we’d—do what we planned to do, my lady.”

Caitlyn glared at him. “Princess,” she corrected again and made no move towards him. “Forgive me, but what business were you referring to?”

“Being future king and queen.” Nathar motioned towards the bed. “The lords always—they practice before the final ceremony.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Your northern customs are not welcomed here, Nathar. We will wait until we say our vows to one another. In the presence of family and the gods.” She marched towards the opposite side of the room and opened the door—that was strangely locked. “Have a great evening, lord Nathar. You may leave now.”

Nathar held his head up high. “But, we were meant to talk. We won’t be married for nearly 4 years. I’d like to get to know you better. Don’t you want to know me, Princess?” 

Caitlyn remained near the door and even called for one of the guards. “I’ve gotten to know a side of you I wish I hadn’t.”

Nathar understood and quickly grabbed his shirt and vest. He slipped them on and took his leave. He paused at the door and looked down at Caitlyn. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was only going off what I was told.”

Caitlyn didn’t back down. “Are you a wolf of the north, or a sheep of the north?”

Nathar said nothing, understanding Caitlyn’s anger.

“Learn some of your own proper behaviors, Lord Nathar. Good night.” She slammed the door and sighed in relief. 

Then she remembered…

Caitlyn ran to her closet and peeked inside the old passage. “Vi!” she called out. But the bastard was long gone.

Gone, but still very close.

Caitlyn made a quick decision and ran out of her room. Cursed be her betrothed if he spotted Caitlyn running past him. But the second son of Lord Stark was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully wallowing in his shame.

Vi pushed open the final door and sighed in relief when she realized she was in the middle of the gardens. She crawled out and stood up in triumph. “‘Stay in the room,’ my ass. This was actually exciting.” Vi dusted herself off and prepared to walk away.

…only to walk straight into a knight.

Vi grunted and looked up. “Geez, they keep you manning the holes in the wall or something?” She paled when she realized who it was. 

Lord Commander Grayson stared down at Vi. 

The bastard of Winterfell fell smaller than the beetles of the earth. “Hi.” Vi’s life was short and sweet. A well-lived life for a high-born bastard. “I’m going to be hung, aren’t I?”

I will meet my mother again.

The Lord Commander didn’t say anything about Vi sneaking around. Instead, they gently pushed the highborn bastard away and held out a small metal cylinder. “From the Queen, little Snow. I would read that as soon as possible if I were you.”

Vi hesitated, and chose not to move. “I—”

The Lord Commander reached for Vi’s hand and placed the cylinder against Vi’s palm. “A request directly from the Queen herself. Better not disappoint, little lady.”

Without another word, the Lord Commander glared down at Vi. Never once bringing up or questing why Vi was exiting an old servant’s passage. 

“Fuck,” Vi cursed softly

“Lord Commander Grayson?” an angelic voice called out. “Are you with our guest?”

Grayson only hummed. 

Vi wished she was on the battle front at that very hour. “Princess,” she whimpered in shame.

Caitlyn was breathless, clearly having run down here. Once she laid her attention on Vi, Caitlyn smiled. “There you are. You’re very fast for your size.”

Vi wasn’t sure if she should take offense to that. But chose not to. “Thank you, Princess?”

The Lord Commander made a strange noise under their breath and slowly walked away. They sent Vi a strange look. The Commander wasn’t too far off, giving the princess and the bastard—a sense of privacy.

Caitlyn kept her grin. “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if Lord Stark would bring you. After you— chose— not to attend the dinner in Winterfell, I’d assume that was the last I’d see of you.”

Vi nodded, but. “You thought about seeing me again?”

“I have, Bastard of Winterfell.” Caitlyn’s tone was light and playful.

Vi was so used to being called a bastard all her life in the north. Either derogatory or a simple title from lords. But the way Caitlyn said it felt meaningful.

“Are you busy?” the princess asked.

“I’m—no?”

“Would you,” Caitlyn stepped closer,. “...care to join me for a walk? At least before tomorrow. On the assumption that I won’t see you again. I’d like to get to know you.”

Vi felt cornered and lost. She’s never been invited to anything by a lord. Let alone royalty. “I—uh, we can, but, uh.”

Movement off to the side caught the bastard’s attention. It was the Lord Commander making strange hand gestures, pointing to their arm before bending it at the elbow.

“...my arm is broken?” Vi rushed out.

Caitlyn frowned. “What?”

The Lord Commander looked pissed and yanked a gardener to their feet. The commander held out their arm and the gardener grabbed onto it. The commander motioned towards it like a “See?” gesture.

Oh.

Vi was slowly getting it. But also wasn’t sure why the Lord Commander was helping the bastard after having caught her sneaking out of the castle. 

Without putting too much thought into it, Vi stiffly held out her arm. “Princess.”

Caitlyn appeared confused. “Yes?”

Vi was sweating. “This is my arm.”

The princess looked down at it. “Indeed it is.” Caitlyn then got a look of recognition. She swiftly turned around, but didn't see anyone besides the gardener. “Did you want to ask something of me?” She faced Vi.

The bastard looked more confused than Caitlyn. “I think so? I mean, if it so pleases thee, may I walk you around your garde— oomph! Okay.”

Caitlyn eagerly grabbed onto Vi’s arm. “You may!” She roughly tugged Vi along the pathway in the gardens. “Do you know about the midnight lilies?”

“Uh,” was Vi’s answer.

The princess brightened. “Perfect. Let me show you the more secluded side of our gardens. My mother had these rare flowers planted in honor of grandmother Kiramman. The fallen Queen. Well, she—” Caitlyn went on and on about the specific flowers her mother had planted in honor of the late queen. 

Vi listened to every word Caitlyn spoke. Her arm felt heavy as though burdened with the weight of responsibility in escorting royalty around her gardens. Vi was used to stares, but definitely nothing like these. Handmaidens walked past them with knowing smiles, gardeners nodded to the both of them while clearing the pathway, and the guards barely spared Vi a glance.

Vi was truly welcomed here.

The bastard risked a glance in Caitlyn’s direction as the Princess continued to explain all the different flowers that were planted. And the reason behind them. 

They stopped at a weirwood tree, something that Vi was more than familiar with. A representation of the old gods that the northerners worship. Vi was more than curious about this tree being so far south.

Caitlyn noticed. She tugged Vi so they could be closer. “One of the past queens, my great great grandmother. Possibly another great, was going to marry a Stark. The warden of the north. She planted this for them.”

The princess slowly let go of the bastard’s arm to allow Vi to roam about as she pleased. But Vi remained by Caitlyn’s side. 

Vi was actually waiting to be told to do something. Whatever would please Caitlyn. Stand on one leg, entertain the princess, or sing a sea shanty. Anything . This was new to Vi.

And Caitlyn was aware of it. “We haven’t gotten the proper introduction, have we?”

Vi allowed herself to smile. “No, my lady—Princess!” she quickly corrected. “Your grace,” she whimpered in shame.

Caitlyn offered a soothing smile. “You can just call me Caitlyn. I’d actually prefer it. But around the others—especially the Queen—Princess is more appropriate.”

Vi slowly nodded. “Caitlyn.”

The princess looked away to hide the way her name affected her. Everyone uses her name all the time. This shouldn’t be any different. But it was.

Caitlyn licked her lips and eyed the bastard before she pulled Vi closer to the tree. “If you’d like to pray, or say a word to them, I can leave you alone.”

Vi all but rolled her eyes at the connotation. But refrained since she knew Caitlyn meant well and Vi didn’t want to risk offending the princess. “I appreciate the sentiment, Princess. But I do not—I mean, I uh,” Vi shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t pray to the old gods.”

… Or any of them.

“Religion escapes your desires, doesn’t it?” Caitlyn inquired softly. Curiously. 

Genuinely.

Vi could only nod.

Caitlyn looked at the tree and caressed the young bark. “Some of these can be thousands of years old,” the princess spoke quietly, changing the subject from religion—so as to not offend her new friend. “The roots probably travel from the lands of Always Winter, south to Winterfell. And even here. And yet, this one is only a few hundred years old.” Caitlyn looked at Vi. “They can be used as guides for visions—so I’ve heard. Or even to speak with the beasts of the forest.”

Vi’s grown on those stories. Myths and legends Nathar would say, but Powder loved hearing about them. About the lost generation of Starks being wargs. Skin Changers the other great houses called them. Becoming beasts themselves to win battles and all the wars before them. And even now, when Vi dreams—she dreams of being Nightwing, her young wolf pup.

Running in the forest.

…or even being a snow hare underground.

Caitlyn smiled sadly. “And not a single soul has prayed to it. I wonder if anyone will. Or its—will to grant prayers will be lost. If that’s a thing.”

Vi also reached out and caressed the bark. “Perhaps when you and Nathar marry, he’ll be kneeling out here for guidance.”

Caitlyn wore a distressed expression. “I’m sure he will.”

Vi noticed and cleared her throat before changing the subject. “You know, Caitlyn,” she practiced using the Princess’s name, inwardly joyous at how Caitlyn reacted to it as well. “...I was born in the south near King’s Landing. By the harbors actually. So I grew up hearing about the Faith of the Seven. The old gods—have never known my heart.”

Vi tried to bring the conversation back to Caitlyn’s southern religion. But the princess was caught in a small detail. “I know where you’re from. Remember? But wait, are you not Lord Stark’s bastard then?”

Vi chuckled. “I am. But I was born at the harbors. Practically on the Narrow Sea, my mother used to tell me that my heart belonged to the waters. And not the cold. Lord Vander knew of me, but he only retrieved me when Bran died.”

Caitlyn wondered. “A sea-born bastard of Winterfell. That has quite the magical ring to it.”

“Better than a brothel born bastard.”

“Those are plenty,” Caitlyn jokes. “Look at the Targaryen’s.”

Vi stared at the Princess wide-eyed before they both burst out laughing. The two shared more stories getting to know one another. Slowly creating a new friendship. Something neither ever truly had with another girl their own age. Before it got too dark, Vi bowed appropriately and waved Caitlyn goodbye before running off towards the far side of the castle where the rest of Starks would be.

Caitlyn smiled fondly, and shared a secret with herself as she slowly headed back to her own room. The Lord Commander quickly followed to escort the Princess.

Cassandra was leaning over a balcony; hidden by the darkening skies and natural shadows. She watched the bastard of Winterfell flee from her daughter, and the Queen knew she made the right choice.  “Soon,” she said before retiring for the night. 

Powder was grinning from ear to ear. “Are you seriously invited!” She was holding the scroll that Vi brought back to their room. 

Cregan was also sharing the excitement, grabbing the parchment from Powder’s hands. “Let the gods be gracious. It’s true!”

Nathar shoved his brother. “Do you not know the law? A bastard is never welcomed to a royal ceremony!”

“Can you not read?” Powder snapped in return. “Violet is INVITED! ”

Lady Ariana took the parchment from Cregan. She read it over and looked up at her husband. “It’s true.”

Vander remained in his seat while his children began shouting at one another about honor and legacy. He was truly too old for this shit. He didn’t even have the energy to scold Vi for sneaking off the way she did. 

Suddenly, Nathar became an expert about royal law. “How dare you!”

While Vi, unexpectedly, wanted to be present for the ceremony. “...invited from the queen herself !”

Vander stood up and walked out of the room, unnoticed by no one as he leaned against the polished brick just outside. He sighed, needing the quiet, but also not wanting to be too far from his family.

He looked down at his own letter from King’s Landing with the Targaryen seal. His brother’s fleet threatens their shores, and someone wishes to drive a rift between the Stark bloodline. Vander smiled when his children began joking and laughing, already forgetting why they were angry with one another.

But it made him wonder why the Queen personally handed a bastard an invitation to a betrothal dinner.

What does the Queen gain from this?

Chapter Text

“The Lily will live. Carrying twin violets after their first. The King will give their lily more and more seeds to bloom. She will write a new law the first note of song. This was the heartbeat of the green lands that never died. But the king of night cherished her petals and kept her warm.”

Young hands tested the tension of the bowstring. The seven year old child sighed in frustration. “My arms are weary, Lord Commander.”

Lord Commander Grayson was kneeling next to the little Princess. Still in full armor, they adjusted the seven year old’s right elbow. “Good. If you keep working at it, you’ll gain strength where you were once weak. Shoot it again. You have three arrows left.”

Princess Caitlyn’s demeanor was exhausted under the harsh midday sun. “Alright.” She placed the arrow against the rest and raised the bow to aim.

Lord Commander Grayson leaned forward. “The Queen is watching,” they whispered.

Caitlyn didn’t want to know where her mother was. The Queen already ripped apart a good portion of the gardens to place a practice-arena for the young princess. Caitlyn begged her mother to learn how to fight.

“Distance, perhaps.” The young Princess had negotiated with the Queen. Cassandra was a fighter, even from a younger age than Caitlyn was. The Queen clearly wanted a life of peace for her daughter after the horrors of war Cassandra lived through. 

Caitlyn focused her breathing and released the arrow. She looked up when she heard an applause from a small audience. Tobias and a few lords were clapping for the Princess. But young Caitlyn’s attention was on her mother. The Queen who had a hardened expression, as though worried for her daughter. For her heir.

Cassandra noticed Caitlyn was waiting, so the Queen held up her chalice and offered her only daughter a genuine and proud grin. “Excellent, Caitlyn!” she shouted. 

That was all Caitlyn sought. 

The acknowledgement from her mother.

Love.

Attention.

…and now.

At fifteen years old, promised to the second son of Lord Stark, Caitlyn craved attention elsewhere. 

She now wore leather guards on her arms as she went through dozens of arrows that morning. Lord Commander Grayson was watching from afar. Caitlyn steadied her breathing. She rarely misses a shot, if ever. She released the arrow and smirked when it hit the bullseye. “Excellent shot,” she complimented herself.

A distant bastard’s voice mentioned otherwise. …an alright shot.  

Caitlyn was handed another arrow from a young knight’s squire. The Princess readied the arrow, resting it and lifting the bow once again. 

A light giggle caught her attention. Afterall, Caitlyn was in the middle of the gardens that her mother had built for her. Two young handmaidens, both served Caitlyn and her mother. Both were very fair. 

One had long red hair that perhaps reminded Caitlyn of another. The two teen girls were carrying books from the library they were preparing for Caitlyn later on. The Princess loves to read in the gardens. She prefers it. Caitlyn was watching them, and her mouth felt dried, her heartbeat quickened, and her hand tightened around the bow’s grip too tightly. Caitlyn’s arm shook from holding out the bowstring for so long.

But she hardly noticed. 

Caitlyn leaned back, hoping to keep the handmaidens in sight.

“Princess.”

Caitlyn gasped, feeling caught, and she instantly released the bowstring. Though it was wound too tight and the tension in her arm fell too suddenly, causing Cailtyn’s to shoot the arrow higher than the targets. At least several meters higher. The arrow struck an old tree, far off. Birds chirped in a panic and flew away. 

Caitlyn was panting, hoping no one noticed her error. “Shit.”

Lord Commander Grayson frowned. “It’s useless holding the string for that long. Aim, while relaxed—”

“I know.” Caitlyn dropped the bow and rubbed her shoulder that was now sore. “I was distracted.”

Grayson smirked and spotted the handmaidens. “I’m sure you were, Princess.”

“I believe we’re finished here, Lord Commander. I shall resume my studies. Thank you.” Caitlyn straightened her posture and quickly headed in the direction of the handmaidens.

The squire picked up the bow and dusted it off before packing it up. “Swords, my Lord Commander?”

Grayson nodded and shooed the boy away. 

Caitlyn’s boots thumped on the polished brick walkway. She wiped a wild strand of hair out of her face and looked down at herself to make sure the Princess was still presentable. Her training attire. Dark pants (a hint of royal blue) accented with a gold lining at the stitch. She wore a protective leather vest that held the House Kiramman sigil.

A blue full moon with two golden keys interlocking that resemble “K’s”. Their motto underneath: “Loyalty. Honor. Maiden.”

Caitlyn’s hair was in a long braid wrapped in itself that fell over her shoulder. She approached the handmaidens who were seated on an iron bench under the shade of a large tree. They were whispering to each other. When they heard someone approaching, they both looked up, excited to see it was Princess Caitlyn.

“Good morning, my Princess,” one greeted.

“Hello, Caitlyn.” Mysaria closed the book on her lap and stood up. “Have you had an excellent practice earlier?”

Caitlyn felt her throat tighten and her hands disgustingly moist in her nerves. Mysaria had the crown of red fire hair and eyes that matched the greenest grass in the wild. “I did,” Caitlyn squeaked. The Princess cleared her throat. “I did, Mysaria. And I was hoping—” Caitlyn trailed off when she spotted Lord Commander Grayson exaggerate the movement of holding out one’s elbow.

What a gentleman would do.

Caitlyn held out her arm for the handmaiden. “If I may ask of you, Mysaria, will you accompany me around the gardens? Tell me the stories you read.”

Mysaria appeared enchanted and she eagerly held onto Caitlyn’s arm. “I’d be honored, my Princess.”

Caitlyn inhaled slowly as they walked around. Elated. The final piece of an unfinished puzzle in her heart was complete at this feeling. Caitlyn felt like a lord escorting a lady around his gardens. Perhaps this is what Caitlyn always craved. The attention of the fairer gender.

The softness of a lady’s touch.

The lightness in her voice.

The natural gentleness of her nature. 

The—

“Your Grace.” Mysaria let go of Caitlyn’s arm as if burned. She bowed at the Queen who appeared so suddenly. 

Cassandra was surrounded by guards and her own handmaidens. She waved off Mysaria. “Go about your duties. Good morning, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn sighed. Her fantasy was short-lived. “Your Grace,” she greeted her mother, returning to her own title once again.

Cassandra looked over her daughter’s attire. “How quickly can you get dressed, Caitlyn? The Starks will be here shortly. And I need you to be more presentable for Lord Stark.”

Caitlyn bit her lip and felt rebellious. “How fancy does the dress need to be?”

Cassandra smiled at the tone. “Up to you, my dear. This decision is yours.”

But any decision wasn’t up to Caitlyn.

Not in the slightest.

Once the first droplets of tears fell many soon followed. Other older handmaidens quickly dressed the Princess while she quietly wept in her room. Caitlyn was standing on a sturdy chest while the woman adjusted her dress. Surrounded by so many women, yet seen by no one. Caitlyn cried in pain and for the moment that was to come that had not yet affected her life. Marriage. But it will. And it hurt the young Princess, deeper than the sharpest blade on the weakest part of Caitlyn’s skin. 

“All done, little Princess.” One of the older handmaidens carefully cupped Caitlyn’s face. “These need to be dried before the Queen sees them. Worry not, my little Princess. He is a trustworthy lord.”

That only caused Caitlyn to cry hard. “Ugh.”

Elora stepped forward. “If you’ll give us a moment, I can have a more private word with Caitlyn.”

The handmaidens offered sympathetic smiles before quickly exiting the bedroom. 

Mel remained on the sofa, knowing her words would be too hard for the tender princess in this hour.

Elora cupped Caitlyn’s face and brought it closer. “Shh, my Princess, please. It’s only a dinner. It’s not yet a marriage ceremony.”

“But it’s a promise to one!” Caitlyn hissed out. “I told you what he did! He’s not a man that’s trustworthy of my bloodline.”

“I’ll handle him if there’s ever an inkling to it.” Mel promised. “Mark my words, Caitlyn, we are with you.”

Elora pressed their faces together in another promise. The handmaiden tasted Caitlyn’s salty tears and swallowed the pained gasps. Caitlyn melted into the embrace, but was still mourning a new life she would be forced to have. Elora slowly pulled away. “Remember, if it pleases thee, Nathar cannot take many of your firsts from us.”

Mel nodded as though the two could hear her thoughts. “We’re not abandoning you, Princess. We’ll always be by your side.”

Caitlyn pulled Elora into another short kiss which quickly became a desperate hug; needing a distraction and taking what the handmaiden offered. At the princess’s request. The princess tucked her face away to hide from the world before they could see how weak she truly was.

“I am eternally grateful to you both.”

Elora stepped away. “We need to fix your makeup.”

Caitlyn sighed. “Of course.”

Lord Commander Grayson was a statue in the courtyard.

Their mind and attention on the bastard Stark that reminded the Commander of themself. Wild eyes and an even wilder nature within the first born daughter of the Hound. A great knight, she’ll make , Grayson thought.

If only they were sworn to protect the Princess in any matter required of them. 

“Lord Commander,” the Queen called out.

Grayson straightened their posture. “Your Grace.”

Cassandra looked up the stairs behind Grayson. “Is my daughter ready?”

“Not yet, Your Grace.”

“Be sure that she is,” Cassandra commanded. “Lord Stark is ready, I presume.”

Grayson nodded. “I’ll be sure the Princess is prepared, Your Grace.” The commander quickly ascended the stairs two at a time, even with the heavy armor clinking and weighing them down.

Queen Cassandra reached for her necklace. A jeweled medallion that once belonged to her mother Cerenna and her mother before. “Soon,” she prayed.

Lord Commander Grayson knocked once on the Princess’s door before walking in. 

Elora stepped away from Caitlyn who had long since stopped weeping. Yet Caitlyn’s eyes were still puffy from crying. “Good morning, Lord Commander. Is the Queen waiting for the Princess?”

Grayson walked fully inside. “Soon. Are you ready, little Princess?”

Caitlyn didn’t so much as sniffle but remained steady and firm. “Yes.” And her voice wavered. 

And to the Lord Commander, all they saw was the same little child who was running around the castle, hiding from the lords and maesters, being pure mischief for the Commander, and yet—Grayson knew Caitlyn was terrified. And she didn’t need to be. 

Grayson stood in front of the teen Princess and placed a comforting hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “It’s a dinner, Princess Caitlyn, and you’ll remain a maiden for years before an heir is expected of you.”

Caitlyn’s bottom lip trembled. “I know.”

The Commander didn’t so much as offer a comforting smile, but offered their silent strength. “I’ve been with you all of your life. I was there when you were born, I was there when your parents were married, I was there when Her Grace mourned her lineage that was nearly wiped from the face of Westeros.”

Mel and Elora listened as well. 

“I was there when the knight I squired for was scorched to nothing but ash, and I was there when I picked up a sword for the first time and a princess laughed at my technique—and then showed me how to properly hold a sword. And her promise to me was that I would one day be a knight and perhaps a Lord Commander if I lived long enough to see the day.”

Caitlyn covered Grayson’s hand with her own.

“And I promised the little Princess that I would devote my life to her and all of her sons and daughters that followed.”

Caitlyn understood.

Grayson smiled sadly. “It’s unfortunate Her Grace tried for many daughters, but they were all still born. Or too weak in heart to remain out of the womb. But the Queen has you as her sole heir to the throne. And Princess Caitlyn, whatever it may be that you expect of me—should your King Consort behave outside of his title—I will do it without question.” The Commander gave the princess a reassuring squeeze. “I am at your side.”

Caitlyn stared up at the Commander in wonder, but said nothing. Though her expression and eyes reflect her gratitude. Grayson looked to Caitlyn’s lifelong handmaiden, Elora Flowers, and to her good friend Lady Mel Medarda (a future advisor and good friend of the princess)—Grayson looked at them expectantly and gave them both a nod.

The Lord Commander began to head back out, but paused at the door. “The Queen is expecting you all soon. Do not keep Her Grace waiting.” 

Caitlyn felt a weight be removed as Elora and Mel quickly stood by her. Elora held Caitlyn from behind while Mel held onto the Princess’s hand. She looked proud of her friend. “Shall we?”

Elora gently ushered the Princess forward. “Your new friend will be there,” she reminded Caitlyn.

Caitlyn couldn’t help the wide smile that took over her. “I cannot understand why my mother would want Vi there.”

“Do not question the Queen,” Mel pointed out while they walked out. 

~~~

Vander was reading a few letters from his brother while Lady Ariana helped Nathar get dressed for the dinner. He looked up when his son let out another displeased noise. “Leave him be, my love. You’re making Nathar look like those dolls Powder used to have.”

His second son nodded his agreement. “I don’t care to wonder how mother will be once I get married.”

Lady Ariana only cooed. “You’ll be the most handsome boy there.”

“Man,” Nathar corrected. He stepped away from his mother, looking in the mirror and making sure she didn’t mess up his hair. “Where’s Violet?”

Vander looked up when Nathar asked this, not used to his son using his sister’s full name instead of “bastard” as he favored. “In the other room getting dressed with Powder. Why?”

Nathar shrugged and grabbed Cregan’s attention. “No reason. Let’s go, Cregan. I need to walk around.”

Cregan groaned, but got up to follow his older brother out of their room. 

Vi wasn’t sure this outfit suited her body—type. “Fuck! I can’t breathe!”

Roann was helping Vi tie the corset in the back. “I swear to the old gods, can you stop moving!”

Powder was too busy painting on a canvas Princess Caitlyn had provided her the previous day as a gift. The Septa stood behind the little lady making sure Powder didn’t ruin her dress before the dinner. 

Vi gasped when Roann used her foot to tighten it, pinning Vi against the wall and tightened the corset once more. “Ugh! You’re killing me!”

Roann smirked. “This is what a lady goes through everyday. I’ve seen you take wooden swords to the face, surely you can handle a simple corset.”

Vi was red in the face. “When I saw this outfit I was almost excited. Why do I have to wear a corset?”

Roann finished tying it in a knot that could easily come undone with a slight tug. “Normally, to accentuate the lady’s breasts and waist for her man. But you don’t have one. A man, I mean.” 

Vi groaned in pain. “Fuck you—fuck, fuck—stop, please!” She surely felt her ribs crack under the pressure. “Roann!”

Roann smiled. “I’m finished.”

Vi sighed in relief and leaned against the wall while she tried to steady her breathing to gasp a breath while trying no to die. “I’d choose a sword to the face over this any day.”

“You and every lady in Westeros will choose the same.” Roann stepped away and urged Vi to turn around. 

Vi reluctantly listened. “Am I ready to leave?”

Roann shook her head, running a hand through Vi’s tangled hair. “Have you used a hot iron before?”

Vi frowned. “A what?”

The look in Roann’s eyes did not incite comfort for the bastard. “You’ll see.”

Vi was truly afraid at this point. “Thank goodness this is only a dinner and not the actual wedding.”

It’s only dinner. It’s only dinner. 

Caitlyn mentally prepared herself. It’s only dinner.

The lords and ladies were all present from their side of the river. House Kiramman loyalty. The Starks were already seated at the long table as Princess Caitlyn was escorted.  She would be seated next to her betrothed… and across from the sea-born bastard of Winterfell. 

Caitlyn felt her spirits lighten ever so slightly when she spotted Vi. 

The handsome bastard cleaned up very well. 

But the Princess needed to focus. The room stood up when Caitlyn made her entrance before the Queen and King. And Caitlyn tried to behave accordingly as she was escorted to her seat. One foot in front of the other, courtesy before her betrothed who bowed in return. 

Nathar looked more nervous than Caitlyn. He stood behind the Princess’s assigned seat and waited. 

Once the Queen and her King Consort made their entrance and way to their seats, everyone waited. Cassandra sat down first, followed by Tobias, and then Caitlyn. Everyone quickly followed. Nathar pushed Caitlyn’s chair in before sitting down himself. He looked over the silverware and nodded to himself. 

Nathar leaned over. “Are you still mad at me?” was the first thing he asked. 

Caitlyn all but rolled her eyes. “Now’s not the time to visit false concerns.” 

“But—” 

Tobias cleared his throat loudly.

Nathar sunk further into his seat, appearing like a scolded child. “Okay,” he whispered.

Caitlyn knew her manners and her reactions were being watched by not only the Queen and King, but also everyone else from the great houses of Blackwood, Fowler, and even House Arryn. And it’s not even the wedding. Caitlyn looked across the table where the northern bastard looked more afraid at the amount of silverware on the table rather than the fact she was sitting next to the King Consort, and across from Princess Caitlyn Kiramman. 

The second daughter of the Hound leaned over to her sister and whispered. “Follow my lead.”

Vi counted four forks, four very different knives, and two spoons. She wondered what the fuck they could all be used for. “Right.”

Caitlyn wished she hadn’t stared so hard . But it was truly a surprise and sheer bewilderment that her mother would invite Vi Snow. Vi felt the stare and slowly looked up, meeting Caitlyn’s gaze.

The bastard’s hair was neatly combed and slightly curled at the ends to appear more chic. She wore a suit to the dinner, accented by a deep blue vest corset that Caitlyn recognised their lords wore. Vi was wearing both the northern and Piltover’s colors. Vi dressed as though she were a lord of Winterfell and a lord of Piltover.

Caitlyn smiled. “You clean up quite nicely, lady Vi,” she complimented. 

Vi’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you, Princess.”

Nathar cleared his throat. “Yes, my sister cleaned up nicely for a hound,” he whispered bitterly under his breath as though Caitlyn wouldn’t hear him.

Caitlyn arched her brow.

Vi openly glared at her brother, which Caitlyn noticed and found fascinating. 

When the bastard noticed Caitlyn staring she smiled. And the princess felt positively smitten in that moment. “Do you have a favorite, Lady Vi?”

Vi was still smiling. Already sharing secrets and they barely met—truly met the day before. “If you mean favorite flower, the dragon ones were very neat.”

“Powerful choice.” Caitlyn whispered. “You should see them on a blood full moon. It’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Vi leaned forward, just so. Looking over the Princess’s beautiful dress. “I’ve seen much prettier.”

Gods. Caitlyn felt a full body reaction to the daring statement. She cleared her throat, and hoped her burning face wasn’t so obvious under all the makeup. Caitlyn behaved herself and noticed her mother watching Lady Vi out of the corner of her eye. The princess frowned and cursed herself for bringing too much attention to the bastard. 

Nathar and Caitlyn felt forced to begin an awkward conversation. Nathar mostly spoke about himself, and Caitlyn hardly got a word in. When the appetizer was served Vi looked to Powder for assistance who pointed to which fork to use. Caitlyn tried to help as well, but Nathar took it upon himself to do his best to distract Caitlyn.

The second son of Lord Stark leaned close to Caitlyn and whispered. “I was drunk earlier, do you forgive me?”

Caitlyn was tempted to use her salad knife, but refrained. She smiled tightly but never faced Nathar. “Not now.”

The Stark Lord grew impatient. “Will you look at me?”

Caitlyn looked up towards the Stark bastard, who looked like she’d preferred to be elsewhere. 

Vi stiffly ate the appetizer. 

She was listening to Powder go on about a dream she had. “I swear it was real! I was Fishbones. I was in her body running around Winterfell. I ate a dead crow and ran up to my room and, when I woke up, Fishbones was eating a crow in my bedroom!” 

Vi nodded along. “I had a few dreams like that too, but I wasn’t solely Nightwing, I was a crow as well. Sometimes a snow rabbit.” She felt a stare and looked up, catching the Princess watching her again. “Hello, Princess Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn jumped and quickly looked away. “Hello, Lady Vi.”

Nathar was glaring at the two of them.

The Princess ignored Nathar until she physically couldn’t anymore.

For the rest of the dinner, Caitlyn was quiet and hiding within herself. And when it came to official betrothal in front of their witnesses as well as the statues of their seven gods, Caitlyn and Nathar knelt before a priest and the Queen. A dance quickly followed accompanied by lively music. The Starks weren’t used to the southern style of music, more woodwind and percussions than the elegant string instruments that played upbeat songs. But Powder and her younger brothers danced wildly as though they knew every note.

Caitlyn and Nathar were sort of pushed into each other. But the Princess allowed Powder to grab onto her and lead her away. 

“I’m your king noooow!” Powder sang the words with a horrible tune.

Although, Caitlyn was laughing and enjoying it far more than being forced to dance with the boy.

Vander was tapping his foot while he remained seated at the table. Lady Ariana appeared to be scolding Nathar who was hardly listening to his mother. 

And Vi was off to the side near the wine table sampling every wine she could. All from different corners of Westeros. Even the cheeses, the lemon treats, and the desserts were all too appealing to just ignore. So many styles and flavors of cupcakes, the bastard couldn’t settle on just one snack. 

Vi was sniffing the silver cup that held a white wine and took a delicate sip. She moaned loudly, her own sounds drowned by the music and laughing. “This is so fucking good.”

“Those are gifts from House Martell of Dorne,” a voice spoke up from behind Vi. “Very good choice, Lady Violet.”

The bastard froze where she stood. She slowly lowered the cup. A cold sweat began to form on the back of her neck. Vi waited to be addressed again, assuming she imagined hearing Queen Cassandra speak directly to a northern bastard. “Yes, Your Grace.” She forced out instead. 

Cassandra reached for an empty silver cup and filled it to the rim with the same wine Vi was drinking. “Most of these wines are from across the Narrow Sea. Gifts from Volantis (to honor their Lord of Light), Braavos as we celebrate the freedom of men, and even from Pentos. Bitter reds flourish for the mouths of kings and queens. But out of all of these,” Cassandra leaned against the table as though this were a casual gathering amongst friends and family. “You chose the pale wines of Dorne. Marvelous taste you have there. Like spotting the smallest flower surrounded by weeds.” 

Vi just stood there. As still as a corpse, hoping the ground would give in and swallow her whole. 

“The Martell’s are good with their wines as they are with their— medicines. ” Queen Cassandra noticed Vi’s hesitance to speak and offered an easy smile. “You can relax, Lady Vi. I don’t bite. But I hear Hounds do.”

Vi blinked slowly. “...okay?”

Cassandra took a small sip and closed her eyes at the taste. “The richness is so subtle, but the flavors are instant.  They crawl over you like snakes in the sands. Drier than my usual choice, yet sweeter. Go on then, don’t let me stop from enjoying the wines.”

The bastard felt the buzz from her earlier samples slowly ease her mind. Vi took another gulp of the wine, hoping she’ll get drunk, as an excuse to forget this strange interaction. But it also provided bravery. Vi cleared her throat. “Your Grace,” she began in a timid tone. 

Queen Cassandra gave Vi her full attention. “Yes, my dear?”

Vi took another large sip for good measure. “I want to offer my full gratitude for allowing me to be present for my brother’s—ceremony. I’ve never seen such a beautiful—uh, event before. Not since I’m a bastard.”

The Queen’s smile grew. “The bastard customs are adopted by the patriarchy for a more pure bloodline. And House Kiramman does not bow nor do we blindly follow them. Here in Piltover you’re seen as an equal just as your legitimized siblings. Although, it is not uncommon for high-born bastards to be legitimized and gain a power of their own. The Rivers, Flowers, even the Sands.” Cassandra held up her cup. “Snow is new to me. For as long as House Stark has been our wardens in the north for our own house, the marriages and their children have all been legitimate.”

Vi nervously tapped the side of the cup. “Uh huh.”

Cassandra reached for a handful of grapes and cheeses. “Has Lord Stark thought about legitimizing you? I think you can do something greater than being a bastard of Winterfell, Lady Vi.” the queen sipped her wine, a twinkle in her eyes as though she knew exactly where to put Vi in her Kingdom.

“Not until my 18th birthday, Your Grace,” Vi whispered, still unsure if this was real and she was having a conversation with a monarch. A queen who has seen the last of the dragons. “I have two years to figure it out. War seems much simpler. Easier to attain.”

Cassandra arched her brow. “Oh? Two years from now? And what do you plan on doing with your newfound name?”

“I want to be a knight.”

Cassandra looked over the bastard. “Hm, how noble of a bastard. But can you truly wield the sword?”

Vi gathered her thoughts before answering honestly. “Well, Your Grace,”

Caitlyn was frowning at the interaction from across the Great Hall. Her heart was hammering in her chest at whatever her mother could be telling Vi. She grabbed her father’s arm. “What could mother be telling her?”

Tobias was also watching them. “Hm. Ah, isn’t that your new friend?”

Caitlyn nodded. “Lord Stark’s bastard. His first born daughter. What would the Queen have to say to—to a bastard?”

Tobias got a look of recognition. “Ah, yes. The bastard. She’s dressed as a little lord and not that of a lady. Hm,” he hummed, but offered no further explanation or his own guesses.

The Princess wasn’t bothered or afraid, but insanely curious as to what prompted this most unusual interaction. Even Lord Vander was now standing and slowly approaching his daughter and the Queen. Caitlyn waved off a servant that presented her favorite buttered biscuits. 

Queen Cassandra finished her wine and prepared to walk away. She placed a hand on Vi’s shoulder and leaned in close. Vi’s eyes searched the Great Hall until they fell on Princess Caitlyn. The Stark bastard curtly nodded before leaving with her father. Lord Commander Grayson left with them.

Caitlyn was marching across the Great Hall until she stood beside her mother. “Your Grace, may I have a word?”

Cassandra was speaking with a few council members. They all properly greeted Caitlyn before stepping away to give the Queen and her heir a private moment. “Not right now. It’s time for your walk with Lord Nathar.”

Princess Caitlyn sighed, but didn’t argue against it. 

Her mother was snacking on the grapes. “You can choose the gardens. I hear you love those.” 

Caitlyn didn’t appreciate the tone in which the Queen spoke. A not so hidden secret the Princess withheld of her truer nature and whom Caitlyn prefers in the gardens with her. 

…and it was not a man.

They walked in silence for the first ten minutes.

Nathar tried to walk closer beside Caitlyn, but the Princess would always step away to view a flower or even pull a weed from the ground. 

Caitlyn walked fast, hoping to circle the grounds once and call it a moment for them both. 

But the second son of Lord Stark still tried to better himself. “Your silence I deserve,” Nathar began, “As well as your contempt, my Princess. But it would be beneficial if we both try to mend the closeness I may have prevented us from having.”

Caitlyn said nothing.

Nathar sighed loudly. “I apologize, Princess Caitlyn. I acted on desires. I didn’t mean to challenge your virtue before our wedding.”

“But you had,” Caitlyn snapped. “And you overstepped your position.”

“My position?”

“Your duty, Lord Nathar!” Caitlyn roughly grabbed onto Nathar’s arm, digging her nails roughly through through the fine linen causing the boy to wince. “Are you expected to rule a nation, or are you expected to provide me daughters to continue the Kiramman lineage?”

Nathar blinked slowly. “...the latter?”

Caitlyn let go and glared at Nathar. “You don’t sound so sure.”

Nathar’s jaw tightened. “I’m the second son of Lord Stark, my Princess, the only expectation set upon me was to remain in Winterfell as Warden of the North until my firstborn son took my place.”

The Princess was beginning to understand this boy. “You feel as though you’ll lose a part of yourself once we marry?”

Nathar looked away. “When we learn about House Kiramman and their royal lineage it’s always Queen Cerenna Kiramman and her—King Consort. No name is given to their husbands, just a title and a shadow of a privilege.”

Caitlyn slowly nodded. If only she could challenge the Queen on the decision to unite with House Stark. It caused her to laugh humorlessly. “Hm! Not used to being behind a strong woman, are you? It’s always the strong men before their wives. Even sons before their mothers. You’ll be lucky to be named ‘King Consort’ once I’m Queen when all I’ll require is a squirt of seed to have an heir.” The Princess began walking away without another word.

Nathar swallowed hard and hung his head low. “Why did Bran have to die? Fuck.”

Caitlyn was desperately trying not to shed more tears for the Stark lord. Curse be to him and his name!

He wasn’t worth them. And yet, Caitlyn felt her eyes burn with unshed tears.

He wasn’t worth any more of Caitlyn’s attention. …and yet the Princess was filled with an unmatched hatred at the thought of him.

 Caitlyn would have to request an audience with her mother, but what will the people think of her? Already dishonoring her betrothed and they weren’t even married. It would bring shame to the Kiramman name and to their great house. Caitlyn was caged and cornered. The pieces were set out before her. It wasn’t her move, but Caitlyn needed to continue playing the game. 

…for House Kiramman. 

The sun was set and the cover of darkness welcomed Caitlyn into the shadows. 

“Hello, Princess.”

Caitlyn slowed at the voice. She squinted in the dark pathway but didn’t have to wait for the spark of fire to illuminate her guest.

Vi and her sister Powder were holding large lanterns. The decorative ones used for special occasions. Caitlyn supposes this night was indeed “special”, it just felt wrong. If only Caitlyn could—marry whomever she wanted. Act on her own desires and will. 

The twin Starks ran out from the shadows, causing Caitlyn to jump in surprise. 

Vi immediately scolded them. “Behave in front of the Princess! Don’t make me get Lady Ariana.”

Eddard and Dywen only scream louder. “We’re the bellowing souls trapped here from the dragon’s wrath!”

Powder was too busy adjusting her candle inside the lantern. “The haunted gardens showed them nothing.”

Caitlyn forgot what she was nearly crying about. She smiled at the children being free and running around the pathway in the gardens while they were being lit by servants. 

“Forgive them, Princess.”

Caitlyn’s attention immediately fell back to Vi. The quiet bastard. A child of Lord Stark that had gained the attention of the Queen herself… and perhaps the Princess as well. This girl was an anomaly piece on the chess board. And Caitlyn wasn’t sure which part the bastard would play. 

Vi, for her part, offered Caitlyn an apologetic smile.

And the Princess smiled in return, forgetting what the apology was about. “Hello, sea-born bastard.”

Powder snorted loudly. “Holy shit. Okay. That’s the first for a prin—ow!” she yelped when Vi roughly elbowed her sister. 

The northern bastard held out her arm with much more assurance than the day before. “May I walk you, my Princess?”

Caitlyn eagerly stepped forward and held onto Vi’s arm with both hands. “I would be honored to have a charming escort.”

Even the darkness couldn’t hide Vi’s blush. 

They were gathered around a small fire pit. Shallow and was clearly more for decoration than a long-lasting fire. Yet, King Tobias lit it and sat down. 

The Starks were mingled with the other young children who served under House Kiramman. They were telling ghost stories from the Battle of Blue Stronghold. How some servants would hear the cries of fallen soldiers as though they were being burned alive.

Caitlyn was retelling what she read from the Grand Queen’s diary’s. “...the countless men were not the worst. It was the beasts that exploded with fire. They never fly this far north, let alone to Winterfell. The cold bars their wings. Too stiff to fight back for a single night.” Caitlyn remembers stories her mother would tell her. “‘ We killed them easily—yet with great loss. The winds felt sharper than blades and cut through the dragon’s scales. For they could not flee from us. And in the end, it was the riders that were the dragon’s demise. Arrogance flew low that night, and its pride was pierced with arrows, ’” she quotes from Grandmother Kiramman.

Powder was hugging a stuffed dragon that Septa Mordane had made for the little lady. “But if you could ride a dragon and control it, would you, Princess?”

Queen Cassandra smiled at the young Stark. “I like this one,” she whispered to Tobias who hummed his agreement.

Caitlyn looked to her mother then back at the Starks, as well as everyone who waited for her answer. “If the gods had given House Kiramman a beast to control, then I would command it to the fullest.”

Powder kept on. “Do you hear the cries of the dying dragons, Your Grace?”

Vander let out a loud groan. “Oh gods.”

“Most nights,” the queen answered honestly. “And on some days, I can still smell the smoke from its breath.”

Powder lit up and excitedly whispered to her younger brothers. ‘ I was right, holy fuck!’

Vi was sitting beside Caitlyn, she leaned over and whispered something to the Princess.

Nathar had given up on being petty and jealous. This is the outward ‘humiliation’ he deserved. So instead, he participated in the game. He cleared his throat and reached over to grab a burning ember, placing it on the stone in front of him. “We have our own stories from the north.”

Everyone went silent and waited for the young lord to speak. 

“There was another tale Bran used to tell me and Powder when we were children. Or much younger.”

Vi picked up a short handed stoker and began messing with the rocks in the pit. Caitlyn was watching her.

The second son began speaking his tale. “Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was so cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation. Kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherd in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks. In that darkness, the Others came for the first time as their needles went click click click. They were cold things, dead things that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun. And every creature with hot blood in its veins.” He smiled at his siblings. “Only the Night King was brave enough to face the Others.”

“Who's the Night King?” Powder asked.

Vi was stoking the fires while looking over to gauge Caitlyn's expression. She wasn't surprised to see the Princess watching Vi work. They shared a smile.

Lord Vander spoke up. “The Night King didn’t ‘face’ the Others. He was a traitor to the Night’s Watch. He had a fire in his heart that even the harshest winters could not snuff out.”

Nathar pressed his lips together. “The Others left because of him. He controlled them.”

“The others?” Caitlyn asked loud enough for only Vi to hear.

The bastard leaned closer to whisper. “Some called them white walkers, but many called them cold gods. We don’t know what they looked like. Only that they were plenty. Like a huge endless army. And that their skin was cold as ice and burned.”

Caitlyn slowly nodded. 

Vi leaned closer. “They haven’t been seen for thousands of years.”

Nathar remained firm. “Everyone tells it this way. The Night King wielded a sword of flame and ice and cut through the Children of the Forest’s magic. It was the songs of ice and fire, sung for generations.”

Vander sadly shook his head. “That's not how the story goes, my boy. The Others left because there was no one else to kill. They left because the Night King betrayed his brothers of the Night’s Watch. He married a cold one, and they did unspeakable things to brave men.”

Nathar stared into the flames. “But it’s only a story, right father? There is no Night King. Only fables. Horror stories to tell children to make them remain indoors. The white walkers are no more.”

Vi looked to her father and waited. As did everyone else.

Vander appeared troubled. Not by the attention but by the truth. “The Night King was real. But he’s been dead for thousands of years. Same with the white walkers.” Lord Stark stood up and turned to the Queen. “Forgive me, Your Grace. A tired man must retire for the night. If you’ll excuse me.”

Cassandra silently nodded.

Lady Ariana followed Vander out of the gardens and towards their side of the castle. 

Lord Commander Grayson met them on their way out. They handed Lord Stark a letter before quickly brushing past them and rushed to the Queen; whispering in an urgent manner. Cassandra sat up and leaned forward. She looked at Caitlyn and Vi; a grim expression befell her.

Caitlyn impulsively reached for Vi’s hand. “Your Grace?”

Vi instinctively held onto it.

Vander was glaring at a woman he was once in love with, praying for mercy. Praying for grace. Praying for patience in this hour. He had no energy to shout, but he never raised his voice at Ariana before. And he never wanted to. “When did you do it?”

Lady Ariana was sitting on the single chair in their room. Hands neatly folded. “When the girl turned sixteen, I sent a letter to King’s Landing for King Rhaegar to offer our family blessing if we give them a conscript in return.”

Give them a body for any future war.

Nathar was standing behind his mother. Arms crossed. But he was staring across the room at his bastard sister, who was looking too happy at the prospects of being summoned to a war. Vi was holding a crying Powder on her lap. Their young sister was terrified of losing Vi after just finding her.

Vi, for her part, was eagerly writing her uncle back. She would join Silco’s fleet. 

Vander covered his face. “Vi isn’t yours to claim, nor your blood to give away to a war that was never meant to be on our doorstep!”

All the children ceased the chatter. 

The twins stopped throwing nuts at each other, Cregan was leaning over Vi’s shoulder reading the letter she was writing to their uncle, and Powder was still silently sobbing while desperately clinging to Vi.

Nathar was the only one who looked afraid. “I will go with her,” he volunteered. “She’ll have a better chance of returning with me beside her.”

“You will not!” Lady Ariana.

Vander shook his head. “Your property of Queen Cassandra now, my boy. You cannot go anywhere without her royal seal. And Her Grace will not give you up so easily.”

Nathar sighed. 

Vi looked up at him, and frowned. Wondering why he chose to fight alongside his bastard sister.

Days after a seemingly joyful event, Vi was looking out at the waters that were more familiar than her Stark bloodline.

She had said her farewells to her brothers, even Nathar, but now she was kneeling in front of Powder. “Write to me, okay?”

Powder was defiantly looking out at the harbors. Glaring as though the war was in them. “Why are you so happy to leave us? Why does this war matter to you more than us?”

Vi sighed and took each of Powder’s hands. “They don’t, Powder. And they never will. But I am still a bastard of King’s Landing as well.”

“But you belong to father,” was Powder’s watery reply. She sniffled harshly. “Why can’t you stay? What if you die and I’ll never get to see if I get taller than you?”

Vi smiled sadly. “I won’t see actual war since I’ll be with Uncle Silco and Sevika on their fleet. This way, I’m serving for King’s Landing and still being under father’s guidance.”

Powder finally looked at Vi.

The bastard leaned closer to kiss her sister’s cheek. “You’ll never be taller than me.” 

Powder rolled her eyes and threw herself onto Vi, crying her misery. “Who will take care of Nightwing for you?”

Vi held onto her sister just as strong. “She’s a wild direwolf, Powder. If it gets to it, let her go free for me, okay?”

“Never.”

Powder was pulled away from Vi by Vander and Lady Ariana. Lord Stark looked down at his first born daughter and scowled at the world. 

Vi stood up. “Lord Stark,” her first words to her father, and possibly her last.

But this time, instead of glaring at a stranger, ignoring a mistake he made, Vander easily scooped up his daughter. “You best come back alive or I’ll kill my brother for this.”

Vi didn’t expect herself to cry. “I love you too, father.”

“How could she?!” Caitlyn was crying while she marched towards the council room. “Open the door now!”  The guards wouldn’t let her in, but Lord Commander Grayson was approaching. “Please! I command it!”

The Lord Commander nodded. “Let us through.”

And now, the Princess sat across from her mother, the great Queen. Even her mother appeared uneasy yet controlled. As though just as worried for Vi.

“How could you let this happen? She’s no longer a citizen of King’s Landing! She belongs to the north. Vi belongs to—us!” Caitlyn shouted.

Cassandra looked at the door and shook her head. “Mind your temper, Caitlyn. This behavior does not suit you.”

Caitlyn took in a shaky breath to try. “She’s my friend, Your Grace. Please. I don’t understand why you could let this happen. Lord Stark is our warden! He just found her only years ago and now he lost her to King Rhaegar all over again.”

The queen was careful with her reaction. She knew Caitlyn spoke Lord Stark’s name… but meant to say her own. Young friendships are truly the most precious. The queen held onto the necklace and toyed with the jewel. 

Cassandra stood up and rounded the table. She sat closer to her daughter. “If I denied King Rhaegar his people, war would be the first thing on our walls. And we represent a generation of peace. Most of our citizens still remember what it was like to feel the warmth of a dragon. To mourn great loss. Let our wounds continue to heal, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “The Targaryen’s are already at war within themselves. How dare they make the public fight among each other for this. The King is slowly going mad! How long until they usurp him for the great of the realm!”

Cassandra gently cupped her daughter’s face. “You have your grandmother’s spirit. You have the iron heart of a true queen. But you need to settle what’s going in here first.” The Queen pointed to Caitlyn’s heart. “You’re still very young, my love. I’d rather you claim the throne at my death rather than live through a war I could’ve easily prevented. Who knows, the young girl seems tougher than she looks. Perhaps this would give her the experience to be knighted.”

The Princess frowned in confusion at those words. “Is this what you two spoke about, Your Grace?” Caitlyn searched her mother’s eyes. But the secret was already gone from them. “Are you bringing Vi back here to me? Will she be our knight? Will she live here?”

The Queen only sighed. “Write to her, Caitlyn. Write to her to calm your nerves. Write to her if it’ll settle your heart. Write to your betrothed, your friend in Dorne. All of them.”

Caitlyn bit her lip. “And if I want to write to Vi in place of Nathar?”

Cassandra smiled warmly. “Then you should write to her now before she leaves the harbors.”

Vi was sleeping on the ship that was still docked on the harbor. 

A loud tapping on her window woke her up. The bastard slowly rolled over and jumped when she saw the large raven resting on the open window sill. Vi quickly got up and carefully lifted the raven and untied the metal cylinder around its leg. “Powder doesn’t waste time. Does she? Um.” She scratched her head and dug into a bag with fish grub. She handed it to the raven. “Here. Thanks?”

The raven snatched the snack out of Vi’s hand before flying out the window. 

Vi watched it leave then looked down at the seal in her hands. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed while tripping over crates, rushing to her desk and lantern. She struck the match and lit it up. Bringing a quick illumination into the small cabin. It was the Kiramman seal. 

Vi opened the seal and felt as though the sun moon and stars all aligned at that very hour.

‘ For the sea-born bastard of Winterfell,’

Vi already smiled at the inside joke that no one else would understand.

‘It is with great regret that I write to you in this manner. I heard you’ve been summoned for war. May the gods bless thee, and provide thee with the strength to carry out these battles. And if it be so kind of you, I request a letter at the beginning of every month as a token that my prayers have been answered.

-Princess Caitlyn’

End of Book 1

Chapter Text

For the first month at sea, it felt like a year.

And Vi still hadn’t found the words to say to the Princess. Would it be a proper correspondence? A friendly conversation? Or something more? The bastard didn’t know how to proceed with this sudden task. It was easier to climb the ropes and loosen the sails. Much simpler to sharpen hundreds of swords a day to keep them ready for war. Even falling overboard and nearly drowning brought more ease to Vi’s mind than writing a letter to the princess. 

But still, at the end of the month as promised, Vi sent out a raven with her letter to Caitlyn.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"For the High-Born Princess of Piltover,
To be honest, Yer Grace, words escape me when I think of writing to you. We're southbound following the summer currents. War is not yet here. We’re preparing everyday. I miss the fucking north…"

—Vi

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Caitlyn felt instant relief when her mother, the queen, personally handed Caitlyn the sealed letter.

“Who’s this from?” Cassandra asked, with a gleam in her eyes like she already knew.

“Vi Snow of Winterfell.” Caitlyn replied without hesitation. “At least, I hope it’s from her.” The Princess quickly grabbed the parchment and opened it. She read it and smiled.

Queen Cassandra didn’t stop or scold her daughter when Caitlyn quickly ran off. Tobias poked his head out. “You coming, dear?”

The Kiramman Princess was lying in a bed of flowers as she read Vi’s letter. She memorized every word and the jagged stroke of the feather and ink. Probably very hard to write out on the black waters. Dangerous. But Vi promised she would write as much as she could. Would this be the first of many letters written on the Narrow Sea? Caitlyn could hardly wait. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

" To the First-Born daughter of the Hound,

Are there common-born princesses? Perhaps across the Narrow Sea? You may jest but I am ever curious. And if the words do not come naturally, then a blank letter will suffice. So long as I know you're alive and well. Is it  warmer down there? It’s still the same here. Although the nights grow colder.

May I ask what Vi is shortened for?"

Best Regards,
Princess Caitlyn Kiramman

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

The first year on the Narrow Sea had come and gone slower than Vi had anticipated.

She raised her hand, blade between her fingers, squinting against the sun to see the target. Vi swiftly threw the knife. The blade was embedded into the side of the ship. Just below the lip of the edge. 

Sevika grunted. Not impressed. “At least this time you hit the wood and didn’t lose one of my fucking blades in the water.”

Vi smirked. “So, you’re saying I’m good?” She went to retrieve the knife with a hop to her step.

“Getting there.” Sevika dug into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Here. You earned it.”

Vi saw the broken seal and frowned. “You’re reading my letters?”

Sevika shook her head. “Your uncle did. We can’t take the chance out here. And I’m sure there are some big knighty commander reading yours before they get to your girlfriend.”

“She’s not—ugh. Forget it.” Vi quickly took the parchment and glared at Sevika. “Thanks.” She marched away like a spoiled northern child.

Sevika watched Vi disappear below deck. Probably heading to her cabin. She sniffed and shook her head. “Don’t take it personal, kid. We’re all being watched.” she whispered to herself.

~~~

Vi had to use the moonlight to read Caitlyn’s letter just one more time before bed.

Just as she has every night for the past year. These letters from the Kiramman heir are plenteous. In some months, Vi will receive two or even three letters from Caitlyn. Too excited to wait for Vi’s reply on the first. Retelling tales of council meetings. Caitlyn sat in her first, and even participated. The Queen addressed her daughter with a proper title as advisor (in training), but still. Vi smiled at every one of them. The princess was very wise and smart for her age. But her genuine love for her people and her nation transcended everything.

Except for her beauty.

Vi would dream of that more often than anything else.

Letters from home, Vi hardly hears a word from Winterfell. Only what Powder sends. Cregan wrote Vi twice so far, but was busy with his own studies to be the new Lord of Winterfell once the responsibility fell to him. Vander hasn’t sent word at all. But with Lady Powder, she speaks of everything with the same enthusiasm as Princess Caitlyn. Vi gritted her teeth when she found out Nathar would be living in Piltover two years before their marriage. Powder is going to live with them until they marry, then she’ll return to Winterfell.

Vi sighed reading that letter. She trusts her sister to make Nathar’s life miserable. But Vi focused on the strange (yet, similar) dreams Powder would reveal to Vi. Speaking of dreams as wolves. Being one. Smelling the world in a different body. Seeing in the night as though it were daylight. Seeing through Fishbone’s eyes. Tasting her meals and the blood of innocent creatures.

“They feel more real everyday. And when I wake up, Bone’s is staring at me like she knows we just shared a dream or something. Is this magic father would tell us about?”

Vi wasn’t sure what they were dreaming of. 

But lately, her dreams have been about a princess in the largest and most beautiful castle she’s ever seen. In these dreams, Vi is a knight in shining armor. And in these dreams they walk together. Sometimes, they’re even holding hands. 

Should these be the words Vi should tell Princess Caitlyn?

…no.

Vi wrote her letter quickly and sent it off before overthinking it.

The next morning, Vi awoke to the sounds of fighting.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Dearest Princess Caitlyn,

The waters are treacherous. The waves are tall like mountains. I have not seen battle, but I see the lives lost along the way. As for the previous concern, words come to me, but I don't know how to write them. They sound… scary and I don't want you to think ill of me."

—Violet

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Caitlyn was eating breakfast with her parents while reading the most recent letter from Vi.

Nathar wasn’t here anymore. Sent off to the north to help his father keep the wars out of their lands. Powder was sitting with Elora and Mel trying to out-wit them. Out-smart them. Even her pet direwolf, Fishbones, was living in the south. 

The queen allowed it, so no one questioned it. 

And no one had been killed by the wolf. 

“What do you wish to tell me?” Caitlyn whispered while reading Vi’s letter once more.

Queen Cassandra leaned closer to her daughter. “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Caitlyn was blissfully unaware of the hidden intention behind the question. So she answered honestly, as she always had. “Violet.” Her full name is Violet. Caitlyn wanted to repeat the name aloud for everyone to hear. “Her name is Violet Snow of Winterfell.”

Powder rolled her eyes. “Ugh, not this shit again.” she mumbled.

Elora and Mel shared a look and smiled. “Mind your manners in front of the queen, Lady Powder.” Mel whispered.

Powder just saluted. “Heard, General.”

Mel smirked. “I like her.” she whispered to Elora.

The handmaiden nodded her agreement and grinned at the little lady across from them. 

Cassandra raised her brow. Watching the blush rise to her daughter’s cheeks. The fluidness in her daughter’s behavior. The gentle way Caitlyn treated every letter. Like a new scripture was being revealed to her. And Vi knew every secret to the world, and shared them with the princess. “That’s a lovely name for a southern born bastard. How is Vi faring on the Narrow Sea?”

Caitlyn looked up. “War hasn’t reached them, yet. Which is good, right? Vi’s meant to return this year. Will you accept her in your service—allow her to come here, Your Grace? Knight her? Or,” Caitlyn cleared her throat. “...simply bring her here?”

…to me? The princess thought.

The queen carefully thought about it. “I can only offer what is deserved, Caitlyn. Being knighted isn’t as simple as you make it to be. The rank needs to be earned in battle. However Vi serves the realm will reflect in an honor bestowed not by me, but by her Lord Commander.”

Caitlyn looked down at the letter once more. “Who is her Lord Commander? She’s not with the Lannisters or the Baratheon's?” She shook her head. “There’s too many sides being created. I forgot Lord Robert is no longer hand to King Rhaegar and Lord Stannis just named himself King. This is getting ridiculous. Why are we letting House Baratheon get away with this? Is this what Vi will be in the middle of?”

“I don’t know if she will.” Cassandra reached over to soothe her daughter. Placing a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “No one wants to bend the knee when they feel powerful enough to rule over themselves. Aegon the Conqueror thought he was bringing unity by bringing the different nations of Westeros together. Perhaps he did, but also, maybe there is a bitterness seeing nations like ours and Dorne prospering without the Iron Throne. Where even dragons couldn’t make us bend the knee. They played their games, but couldn’t win in our fields.”

The breakfast table fell silent while everyone listened to the queen. Even Powder stopped eating and wondered if her brothers were forced to be part of the war. Or worse, Vi could never get out.

Cassandra continued while Caitlyn now felt ill with fear. “Perhaps seeing battles like these will allow Vi to rise in the ranks. And if she pleases, I will allow her to remain here. Maybe Lord Commander Grayson could use some help around here.”

“Your Grace?” Powder’s small voice called out.

Caitlyn looked down the table at Vi’s little sister. A girl she sees as her own sister. 

“Speak freely, Lady Powder.” Cassandra loved this child, and would destroy anyone who caused her harm.

Powder appeared nervous and sad. “I’ve been receiving letters from my brothers in Winterfell. There’s movement towards the north from King’s Landing. I know my father’s too stubborn to ask for aid or bend any knee if they’re not Kiramman or honorable enough. But,” Powder grabbed onto the handle of a steak knife and expertly flipped it. “If the wars head north, will you aid us?”

Queen Cassandra smiled. “Without question.”

~~~

Caitlyn sat at her desk while she wrote more to a bastard than to a man she was supposed to marry. She signed the parchment and kissed it before it up and sealing it with the royal seal. “Come back to me, Violet.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"For the most considerate Violet in the North,

What do you mean they're scary? I’d love to hear whatever you have to say. I am your friend, Lady Snow. I’m braver than I look. Trust me.

But also, I am glad to hear you’re in harm's way or in any danger. Not that I doubt your ability to fight. Although, my mother promises you can return here once your time is over. Please consider this."

Your Friend,
Caitlyn

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Was this love?

Vi stayed with her Uncle Silco for two years longer than she planned. And every time she swung her blades (more expertly now), or stabbed a man in the heart… Vi wished she was in the plains with the princess.

She looked down at the blood on her hands, and the lack of empathy in her heart. Has war created a monster out of Vi?

Words stopped coming to Vi after she poured her heart out in the longest letter she’s ever written. Vi’s hands shook and felt genuine fear as she sealed it and sent off the raven.

Perhaps war is Vi’s love language.

~~~

The symphonies of a sea-battle can be quite beautiful for some.

“We’re here for the stones and the treasure.” A captain led his pirates aboard a ship. Their boots thumped onto the wooden platforms. And were met with a clashing of swords. “Silco!” the captain cried aloud.

The percussion of the ship’s hulls being broken by a cannon. The first note of battle. 

A female pirate ran through three of the enemy pirates. Men bought from Essos who hardly saw war. Her fists were blades striking bone and slicing flesh. Knuckles were protected by iron. Metal fists with blades falling down the sides of her forearm. A close up fight and her favorite weapon. The blending of rain water and blood on her clothes had been something she was more than accustomed to in the past few years. 

The tilting of the ship was her dancefloor as she weaved and sliced through bodies like dance partners. The northern bastard was no longer a child of snow, but a weapon for war. Vi wiped the men’s blood from her eyes. Those winterborn eyes shone with glee.

The winds and rains striking the ship created a woodwind sectional. 

The young woman raised her fists and snarled at the pirates in front of her. Growling like a hound. “Argh!”

They didn’t back down and ran at her full force. “We’ll fuck you up like true bitch hound you are!”

Vi laughed loudly, showing off her sharp teeth. “Come and get it, then!”

But one large man came from behind Vi, striking her on the head and sending her to the floor in pain. The bastard saw stars… and heard a voice in her head. The same one that’s been trying to reach her.

‘Violet! Come home!’

Vi grabbed her head in pain. “Argh! Stop speaking to me!”

The larger pirate took the advantage of a mad woman and kicked Vi hard in the face.

…

Vi gasped at the initial cold she felt. 

The ground beneath her didn’t sway with the waves of the Narrow Sea. Instead, it crept up her sides. Vi was standing in deep snow. Somewhere farther north than she’s ever been. She squinted against the winds. She tried to run forward but something stopped her.

Vi stared up at the skies as her eyes turned white with magic. 

….when she opened them again she was running on all fours. Panting heavily. Growing at whatever was chasing her. Her large paws hit the snow as she effortlessly ran through the northern woods. Dirt and mud and no longer snow and ice. Vi was in Nightwing’s mind once again. Only this time, Vi was physically controlling the beast. Vi ran and ran, feeling the fear creep up her fur. 

There were shadows chasing the direwolf.

More wolves ran alongside Nightwing. Fleeing south. 

Fleeing from—

…

…

Vi was in a familiar chokehold.

The man may have been much larger, but Vi had trained with a much ruthless fighter. Sevika had taught Vi that fighting “pretty” doesn’t win battles. “I’d rather lose an arm than lose to fucking drunk pirate.”

The large pirate had punched the snarky replies out of Vi. Her face exploded in warmth as blood freely poured from her nose and mouth. Vi fell to her knees, feeling the exhaustion of this battle slowly weigh on her. The man seized the opportunity, grabbing the Hound bastard in a deadly chokehold that caused Vi to nearly blackout from the pressure.

The taunts from her older brother still followed her all these years. “Yield or sleep, Snow!”

Vi clawed at the man’s arm, tearing flesh in her desperation to get away. But his grip was mighty. Unwavering. And the rocking of the ship didn’t aid Vi at this hour. The bastard used one of her blades and sliced the man’s side. He loosened his hold enough for Vi to make her move.

She miscalculated and a blade pierced her side. “Ahhh!”

Without yielding or forced to sleep eternally. Vi dropped to her knees and groaned in pain.

Would her death be meaningless in this battle? She looked up, crawling towards the edge of the ship. Silco’s men were rapidly falling. Vi winced and yelped as her body was thrown when a large wave hit the side of the ship.

…sending her overboard. “Help!”

Vi quickly began sinking. 

The irony when the waters seemed much calmer beneath the surface.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"To my great friend Caitlyn,

I trust you with my life, I trust you with my dreams, and I trust you with my nightmares. I do not fear my thoughts in the manner you assume. They're scary in a way I do not recognize myself alone anymore.

When I think of you, Caitlyn, I only remember a gentle smile, a caring heart, and a genuine love for her people. Your beauty is deeper than the strongest weirwoods, your smile illuminates the darkest forests, and my heart drums a melody I’ve never felt before when I think of you.

But I am no prince, and I am not a lord. So I will follow my dreams to the Narrow Sea.

Your humble admirer and hound in the north.
Violet Snow

P.S. I trust you to hold my heart. For I cannot let anyone else have it.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When Caitlyn first read Vi’s letter, the final piece on the board was set.

If Caitlyn could marry whomever she desired, it would be with Violet. Were they in love? Was this romance in the sense where Kings go to war for their maiden queens? Had Vi willingly stayed away for four years to fight for the Kiramman name?

For love?

…but now,

Remaining in her room for weeks on end, Caitlyn lifted the paint brush and delicately worked on the portrait she began years ago. It went unfinished through her studies, through distractions from the bastard, and even the unsettling nightmares of Nathar living here for too long.

The oil paint blurred as Caitlyn wept.

Five months and no word from her Violet. Eight months of silence after the most heartwarming confession Princess Caitlyn has ever read. Vi’s letter was resting on the table next to her, words open for all to see. Whoever came in and dared to disturb the distraught princess. Nathar has written Caitlyn, but Elora wrote in her stead. 

Caitlyn lowered the brush, the pink oils spilled over the sides. The princess leaned back and stared at the portrait of a young Lady Violet Snow dressed as she was during Caitlyn’s ceremony. She was so beautiful and handsome. 

“Are you a Stranger to the Narrow Sea?” Caitlyn whimpered and cried all over again. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

To the Stranger in the Seas,

I hear your words and I will forever cherish your heart. In another life, perhaps I would have let you hold my heart. For you have all of my love.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Caitlyn rarely visited this cathedral.

Her mother, the Queen, used to make them come here once a week for morning prayer. To feel closer to their gods, and the loved ones that had moved onto the next life.

The priest raised his staff and led the mourning congregation in prayer. “Father, Mother…” he continued on while the cries from a northern mother were heard.

But Caitlyn held onto the letter in her hands and prayed to it instead. The paper was crinkled from constant handling. 

It was the last letter Vi ever sent before… Caitlyn’s hand shook with a misplaced anger. She thought of all the beautiful words they shared over the years. The friendship they’ve built. Cassandra placed a comforting arm around her grieving daughter. It only caused a sob to escape the princess.

Eyes were on Caitlyn now. 

Sympathetic smiles aimed her way.

It hurt to even breathe.

~~~

When the ceremony was over, Caitlyn remained standing near the altar. 

Looking at all the statues of the Seven. All who she prayed to. All who ignored her. Caitlyn wasn’t quite numb in her grief, but she didn’t have the energy to shed another tear.

…yet she did.

The princess cried in silence as the cathedral emptied of the friends and family and other great houses who came to pay their respects for the fallen lords who volunteered to fight in the southern war. Caitlyn’s attention wasn’t on the gods anymore, but on the parchment in front of her. Vi’s final letter that the princess received months ago. Eight months ago their communication was interrupted. Caitlyn learned Silco’s fleet was ambushed by rogue pirates. 

Caitlyn was angry with herself once again. “It’s not fair, Your Grace.” Her voice quivered with each word. “It’s not fair. I’m cursed for loneliness and my heart is possibly at the bottom of the Narrow Sea.” She angrily wiped her eyes to read the words once again. “I don’t know what to do from here. I need divine guidance to move on from this pain.”

Queen Cassandra was sitting on the steps beside her daughter, offering strength when Caitlyn felt weakened with grief. “Those tears aren’t for him , are they?”

“They never were.” Caitlyn bit her lip, hoping to stop the trembling again. She was reading Vi’s letter over and over. Hoping the voice in her head will never cease as she reads the words. Memorized them, let them consume her every thought. “Your men, have they still not found her? Were they even trying to look for her? Has Lord Stark sent word to King’s Landing? Surely there is kin seeking out Violet!”

Cassandra solemnly shook her head. “No word from Lord Silco or his fleet, Caitlyn. The Sea Hounds have separated themselves from the Iron Throne, so I hear. There’s a rising rebellion with House Baratheon challenging the throne. And with no dragons to defend his claim, the Mad King will fall. Perhaps this will lead to a greater outcome. Bring Vi home. However—as she is. I hear she was a mighty fighter on the fleets. Their battles were always won.”

“‘ With great loss, ’” the princess whispered. “She fought against the arrogance of man. The hatred of Kings,”

“Lady Ariana rides back to Winterfell with Powder tomorrow morning,” Cassandra tried changing the topic. “She’ll rejoin with her sons. Lord Nathar plans on leaving the wars to return here.” 

It helped little.

“Lord Nathar wasn’t meant to be a King Consort. Even in his youth, he resented the idea of living in my shadow. But he grew into a good man.” Caitlyn stepped away while folding Vi’s letter. “Why did you promise me to him, Your Grace?”

Queen Cassandra quickly got up. “To honor an oath I made to Lord Stark and his family in the north. They’re a loyal house. We have ‘loyalty’ in our motto. It was perfect.”

“Perfect for you,” Caitlyn whispered. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Forgive me, mother, I didn’t mean to say these things. I’m not in my right mind. May I retire to my room? Perhaps I need more rest than I thought.”

The Queen allowed it. 

~~~

Elora and Mel, now beautiful women, were waiting outside the cathedral for the princess. Caitlyn wiped her eyes once more. “Walk me to my room, but I’d rather be alone tonight.”

The handmaiden appeared torn. “Are you sure that’s for the best, my Princess?”

“It is for me,” Caitlyn mumbled while walking away.

Once in her room, alone, and in the quiet, Caitlyn quickly shed her robes.

The fancy material was too heavy for the midday sun. Even if the temperatures grew colder and colder by the months. The Princess changed herself and sat on the side of the bed that faced a small chest. Cleverly crafted. It resembled a pirate's chest, but a drawer pulled out at the front. 

Caitlyn, still holding onto Vi’s last letter, carefully opened the drawer and placed it on top of the others. The dozens of letters. They held drawings, single sentences of hellos and goodnights, drawings of strangers little Vi had met in taverns, and even a self-drawing (to which Caitlyn turned into a painting). How much has the hound changed over the years?

Caitlyn looked up at the framed drawing (horrible, really), but perhaps Vi drew it when she was out at sea and the waves altered perfection. But now, as Caitlyn lay in her bed and stared at the picture, she realized it was always perfect. “You were my only true friend I created on my own. And now we are Strangers once again. Rest well with your mother, Violet Snow.”

The princess tried to find peace in her sleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

…and my dearest Violet, you were the warmest Snow to have come from Winterfell. 

Is it true that you are no longer here? Is it true that I am writing a Stranger and we will never meet again? I wish I was Queen so I could demand you be home. I wish I was Queen and I would have never sent you away. 

My heart yearns for you in more ways than I can count, in more ways than I understand. My heart yearns to hear your voice when it is now barely a whisper in my memory. I see you. I have drawings of you yet when I close my eyes I don’t remember what I see. I wish you were back here to tell me how ill-practiced I am with my bow so that I can see you. Please. Once more.

Rest Well and Strong, Violet of Winterfell.
Yours,
Princess Caitlyn Kiramman

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Memories of Dying Lord's - Part 1

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"In the snows where winter is always, the King will kneel in the cold—feeling nothing and no-one. She will cry. She will mourn. A wilted Lily will be found in the Snow. Cold and without warmth, carrying their daughter from the River. A kiss will raise the dead. Together they will merge with the strength of stars, and with the songs of men. And they will become one as the star in morning turns red."

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[Days before the announcement of Winter]

The flames showed truths,

…as well as lies.

‘...a king of the north,’ it claimed, but there was no king. 

And there hasn’t been one for generations. But prophecies never lie. Visions come and go with tall tales and fables. Could be interpreted any way. But this. Whatever the red priestess was seeing were layers of an old scripture slowly unraveling right before her eyes. This prophecy held more truthfulness than anything she’s ever seen.

Lady Sun stared into the flames while the men behind her argued greed, demanding more slaves be brought in to defend King’s Landing, or even threatening to march north and force House Stark to unbend the knee to House Kiramman. And pledge loyalty to the Iron Throne once again.

Maester Viktor stood next to her reading a letter from Dorne in a hushed tone. “...the Prince rides to the Plains to meet with Queen Cassandra,” he kept reading.

But the red priestess never heard a word. She stepped closer to the hearth and waited. Silently pleading to see something different. A newer outcome. But the fires only showed her one path and it ended in ice and sorrows. She toyed with the medallion around her neck, praying to the God of Light to be more merciful. 

“How fucking dare you speak to me like that! I said burn them all! ”  King Aerys shouted, spitting wine across the table towards Lord Robert Baratheon. 

A very large man. Recently retired from war. A hammer wielder who can crush skulls of men with a single swing. He slowly stood from the council table, glared at King Aerys while ripping the pin off his vest. “You’ve gone fucking mad, Aerys. Look at you. Can’t even shit by yerself, eat by yerself, or make laws by yerself without wanting to set Westeros on fire. Well you can go fuck yerself.” Lord Robert stood up so fast his chair knocked over. He tossed the Hand of the King pin onto the table. 

Lord Robert stormed out of the council room with several others following.

And King Aerys shook with anger. “Fucking traitor. He’ll burn with the rest of them. You’ll burn with the rest of them, ya hear me!”

Lady Sun turned around and saw the young knight, Ser Jamie Lannister. Youthful face. Deceivingly handsome, standing guard by the King. He looked at the red priestess, watching her movement. Hand still and ready on the handle of his sheathed sword.

She shook her head and Ser Jamie relaxed. 

King Aerys sat back and sighed. “Give me more wine. Give me more wine.”

Lady Sun grabbed the porron and King Aerys chalice before filling it to the top. She slammed the king’s chalice in front of him, spilling wine all over his lap.

He was so mad with rage, he hardly noticed. Frozen in his head, in his mind while he kept mumbling. “Burn them all.”

The red priestess slowly leaned in. “The Lord of Light is displeased with the sorrows and greed of men who ride fiery beasts in the sky.”

Ser Jamie waited until she stepped away.

Lady Sun whispered. “Valar Morghulis.”

The sound of a sword being unsheathed was the last thing she heard. Onward to the North to find the bastard of Lord—

[A bastard’s memory - flashback - two years before the announcement of Winter]

“I never thought I hated the cold, until I felt the warmth of your presence.” Vi had written in one of her earlier letters to the princess.

There is hope in a bastard’s prayer.

In the unwavering faith of a princess and her never ending letters to the bastard of Winterfell.

Simple words, really. Vi read them all more than once. Memorized each word and the unique style of writing Caitlyn uses. Vi caressed the parchments as though ink and letter represented a declaration of love through separation. I gave Vi the strength of ten men. Vi could fight half a dozen men at once and win. And she has, Perhaps Vi will learn the art of cursive before the art of sword fighting.

But now, as Vi recites Caitlyn’s letter in her heart she waits to win another battle for the North. 

Under the shroud of darkness, somewhere off the King’s Road near the muddy plains of Riverrun, Vi lay on the wet ground waiting for her prey. Spying on the Lannister army near Riverrun. Along with their bitch house mates for the battles. House Baratheon waved their banners so stupidly. So far north. War between the great houses after usurping the Targaryens. But House Stark remains loyal to House Kiramman.

Nightwing (her full grown direwolf) was laying beside her, as still as a hibernating bear. Larger than one too. 

Nathar lay to her left with his own wolf beside him. Bran Ghost, he called him. Vi had to seal her lips shut or she would’ve said something she regretted when learning the direwolf's name. But Cregan had called his Rob. Their own lords of Winter.

“Full moon is out.” Nathar whispered into the mud. “My mind is ready whenever you are.”

Vi didn’t respond, only waiting for the signal. 

Nightwing was making a strange noise in the back of her throat, as though trying not to growl. To howl and announce their position. Vi took a handful of Nightwing’s fur and twisted it in a soothing manner. On nights like this one, their connection is much stronger. Not needing to be asleep to enter the wolf’s mind. A master of the beasts in the north. A skin changer.

A warg of uncertain magic.

It’s effortless to enter a smaller, and simple animal. But a direwolf? Much more challenging and far more dangerous. Because the temptation to remain inside the large animal’s mind runs deep. 

Vi closed her eyes and when she opened them again the world around her was much different. 

She licked her snout and slowly raised from the ground. Bran stood up as well. Nathar’s eyes were also closed as though asleep. In a dream of a wolf’s mind. Vi’s only done this once on purpose, countless times through her dreams. She smelt the signal in the new body and slowly crept towards the camps below. The men also hiding in the tree lines quietly crept forward, following the wolves. 

Someone would speak on this battle, on the cowardice approach. But many would congratulate their genius thinking. Does a wolf chase after a prey equal to its size?

Vi's paws silently hit the grass and she began to run forward.

No.

The two men sitting watch had no idea what was about to happen.

…until it happened.

Vi opened her mouth and lunged at one while Nathan in Bran's mind killed the other. Her claws tipped through their armor as though a knife on bread. Shredding it open and watching the insides spill out.

Vi opened her eyes, now in her own body once again. She tasted the remnants of the soldier's blood. She snarled and ran forward. "For the north!"

The rest of the army hidden in the woods ran forward at Vi's command. 

Powder stood in the middle of the fields, appearing lost while she witnessed her siblings victorious. “Come home,” she repeated, still not knowing (or remembering) why she was asking in the first place

Vi dunked her head in the barrel of warm water. 

She blew out bubbles and groaned. Stupid, she shouldn’t have written that to Princess Caitlyn. Felt too… romantic. When she pulled out, the freezing cold numbed her ears. “Fuck. I didn’t miss this at all.” having been accustomed with the warm summer breezes on the Narrow Sea.

To this.

Back to the cold.

Returned to the gray and colorless.

Back to the north and the in-between lands.

Vi cursed herself  and grabbed a bar of soap. She immediately began scrubbing the mud and blood from her long hair. Hating how long she let it grow over the years. Vi bathed in the middle of the camps just outside Riverrun. Victorious as usual. Fully clothed, doing a pirate's bath until she can set up her own tent or ride back to the ports and meet her uncle Silco and Sevika. 

Vi was soaping the inside of her shirt when a shadow loomed over her.

“It was too dark to get a proper look at the bastard. But now that I’ve seen through the eyes of Bran I can say you’ve gotten fat,” an annoying voice called out.

Vi sighed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” And tried to hide her smile. But perhaps she needed someone to mock as well. Vi dunked her head back into the barrel and rinsed out the soap. She spat out the sudsy water while wiping her eyes. “It’s muscle, Your Grace. And you’ve gotten shorter.”

Nathar scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

“You’re not worth it.” Vi sighed and also got a better look at her older brother. She hated him more in that hour than ever before because…, “How’s the princess? Any… daughters… running around?” Vi asked as though every word caused her to choke.

They should’ve been married about now.

Nathar shrugged and handed Vi a towel. “I’ll let you know once I marry her. And give her the best fuck of her life on our wedding night.”

Vi walked away to refrain from murdering her own brother.

Nathar’s laugh only made Vi even angrier. He ran to catch up with Vi’s long strides. “Are you sweet on her? I know you wrote to her. I was living there watching her crow like a bitch in heat. Is that it? Pathetic bastard. Princess deserves a cock in her life, not whatever you plan to offer.”

Vi grabbed Nathar’s vest and held him still. She had a firm grip. “She’s a princess who deserves better than the way you speak about her. And I thought I missed you.”

Nathar arched his brow. “Missed me? Why?” He roughly pushed Vi away. “You have everything you could ever want. Father, freedom,” He motioned to the men around them. The armies. “Loyalty with coin.”

Vi bit her nails and smirked. “You think these pirates are loyal to me?”

The men surrounding them (most Stark bannermen) quieted their stories to listen to the highborn siblings argue. Most of them were indeed loyal to Vi. Southern men who joined the Sea Hounds fleets to have food and a bed at night, now sworn an oath to follow the bastard of the Sea Hound fleets. But Vi wanted to hear him say it. 

Nathar looked around them. “Did father pay them, or our uncle?”

Vi shrugged and relaxed. “No one paid them to be here. They’re our bannermen. And I was summoned into a war with them. Some of us were children at the time. We fought together and lived to tell our tales. For four years I bled with them, I ate with them, and I lived as a hound with them. I am one of them.” 

The men smirked along with the bastard.

“Snow’s our Lord of the Seas!” one pirate shouted and many others joined in and cheered. 

“Her cock’s bigger than mine!” 

They all loved Vi as their leader and kin.

Which embarrassed Nathar. “Whatever, Snow. I don’t need their approval when I’m going to be a King instead.” 

Vi shrugged.

He began loosening his vest. “A spar then? For old time’s sake. We'll decide which manner of fighting is truly superior.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to fight me.” 

“I do.”

A butcher, who was skinning a deer, dropped the head on the ground. “Loser feeds this head to the King Slayer themselves.”

The men shouted and cheered. “Fight him! Fight him, Lord Snow!”

Nathar looked out at the men, seeing some of the Stark men also cheering for Vi to duel her brother.

And Vi wasn’t one to let her men down. She held up her hand to silence them. “No swords. I’ll fight you the way I want to.”

Nathar began removing his leather armor and cotton tunic underneath. “Perfect.”

On the very night the Sea Hound fleet assisted the northmen to conquer Riverrun, there was a circle of dozens of men watching the Bastard hound of the north beat the living shit out of Princess Caitlyn’s betrothed.

Vi staggered from a cheap shot to the face. She kneeled in the mud and groaned. “Fuck!”

They were fighting for a while. Getting a few good hits in. Nathar was shirtless with dry blood all over his face. Vi was nearly similar. Her loose tunic showed off her wraps underneath. 

Vi shook off the momentary dizziness and snarled like a wolf. “You’ll pay for that.” And everything you’ve said about Caitlyn.

He chuckled. “Is this about the princess?” They circled each other. “Wish you had a cock about now so you can marry Caitlyn yourself? I’d let you have her for a night if you really wanted a taste.” He lunged at Vi. 

But she moved out of the way, elbowing Nathar in the back. “Fuck you!” Vi hated how he laughed at her. She kicked him in the gut for good measure.

Insulting.

Nathar hopped up. He winced with every step but pushed forward. “I’m still second in line, Snow. I deserve the crown. And you, with or without a cock, a bastard will still be a bastard. Deserving of nothing. Line of succession would fall to Cregan.” 

Vi held up her fists, squinting around the blood and sweat. “He’s nothing like you.”

Nathar smirked. “And yet, he’ll be inside the princess before you could ever have the chance to—argh!” 

Vi punched him hard across the face, causing Nathar’s head to snap backwards. “Stop bringing Cait into this! This is about me and you!”

Nathar stumbled and groaned loudly. “Such a spoiled cunt, you are,” Though he still managed to grin sadistically. “You made it about her the moment you confessed your sinful thoughts to Caitlyn.”

Vi faltered just so. “You read my letter…?”

“No, but now I know what a pathetic bastard you truly are!” He got closer, trying to fake a low kick before punching Vi across the face again. “Always blocking with your ugly face makes this easier!”

Vi staggered but didn’t fall. She was distracted. “If I were a lord, I would actually love my princess, and not—” She leaped high and kneed Nathar in the jaw. Vi quickly followed through with a series with quick jabs to his gut. “...treat her like a breeding harlot!”

Nathar spat out a mouthful of blood which caused many cheers. Vi tackled him, slamming his head into the ground. She elbowed Nathar so hard, his face went blank for just a moment. Long enough for Vi to wrap her arm around his throat and squeeze.

That awoke her brother from the temporary stun. He dug his nails into her arms, but the leather wraps acted as a shield for his cheap attempts. “Grgh!”

Vi was seething. Seeing red, wondering if she took her own brother’s life now, would being sent to the wall be worth it? For Caitlyn? A monarch who ignored Vi's letter.

Vi tightened her grip. “She deserves better than you.”

“Mm! And it still won’t be you.” Nathar wheezed out.

He was still lean, but Vi had grown much stronger over the years. Nearly his height or taller. Vi wasn’t some little girl anymore; easily pushed around from her brothers. Nathar quickly found out that his bastard sister was truly the more skilled fighter, but he wouldn’t reveal that nor concede.

Lord Vander and Benzo pushed through the crowd of shouting men. He glared at the scene before him. “What the fuck is going on? What are you two doing!” Vander shouted, but his voice was drowned by the crowd of men.

Vi and Nathar were still going at it. Pure hatred in both of their eyes.

Lord Stark stepped forward, but Benzo stopped him. 

“Let them be, my Lord. You’ve never had a brother or a sibling to fight. This, what they’re doing now.” Benzo nodded towards Vi and Nathar (who now got out of the hold and brutally tackled Vi to the muddy ground.) “... heals family wounds. It’s better than words for most brothers.”

Lord Vander still didn’t like it. “They’re not brothers. And Nathar's going to be a king.” He quickly stepped in and pushed Nathar off Vi. “This ends now!” he yelled.

The men instantly fell silent. 

Vi rolled onto her back and smirked at her father. “I didn’t yield.”

Vander didn’t know how to respond to that. He looked at Nathar who now looked more beat up than Vi used to when they sparred. “Get your asses to the baths. Now! And stop whatever this is.”

Vi was catching her breath and looked towards Nathar who was slowly getting up. He looked pissed. More with himself than being humiliated by his bastard sister. The men didn’t respect him as a leader, and that seemed to hurt Nathar more than a kick to his groin. 

Vi was staring at the tent wall while she idly sat in the tub of hot water.

Nathar was splashing around or doing whatever the fuck he was in the other tub on the other side. “Shit. I have a lock of mud stuck in my gorgeous hair.”

The words caused Vi to smile. “You loved your hair more than the ladies that sought after you,”

Nathar hummed, and roughly scrubbed his hair clean. “As did you. Perhaps we had that in common.”

“And then you had Jericho hack off my hair before the queen showed up.” Vi leaned back and just let her body soak in the water. Most of the mud came off with her clothes. She hadn't taken a highborn bath like this in years. Mostly showers from inn’s. The sponges were too soft and delicate.

Vi felt like she was still dirty after using them. 

“Still petty about our childish pranks, are you?” Nathar stopped his splashing and leaned back. He too was facing the opposite wall. Back to his sister, feeling shame of being so vulnerable like punished children. “You’re the one who kept it short.”

“I liked it. Made me feel like a little lord.” Vi whispered. She slouched more in the tub, disappearing underneath the bubbles.

Nathar sighed and let out a small laugh. “Is that what you wanted to be? A lord and not a lady? Is that why they call you Lord of the Seas? Stupid name.”

Vi hummed. “If I were a lord, even a bastard lord, maybe I’d have more respect from my family. From father, from you, fuck—even from Lady Ariana.”

Nathar was gripping the sides of the tub while he glared. “You’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so. This is a man’s world, and I just happen to live in it.” Vi sounded as though she was quoting someone.

“If you were a boy when father brought you to us, I’d wager my mother would’ve had you smothered in your sleep on the first night.”

Vi couldn’t help but smile sadly. “Ya think so?”

“Boys are more dangerous than girls. They threaten the legitimate sons. Their rightful inheritance to lands, weapons, and even armies would follow a legitimized bastard. Being a lady is much more simple.”

Vi pouted. “I don’t know. Your lives just seem easier.”

Nathar loudly scoffed. “Don't know why you think so, Violet. Your new life was handed to you on a silver spoon. A new family. Everyone trusts you outside of the Stark name. Hell, even the Queen loved you. So much easier as a girl parading her dainty fighting skills. Easily impressing our father.”

Vi looked down at her body and held up her fists. “I’m not dainty in the slightest, Nate.”

“Yet, you still have father’s approval.”

Vi didn’t think so. “I hardly think letting me be used for war where I could’ve died, is having father’s approval.”

“If not his approval you had his love, his attention, his devotion… you had all of father.”

Vi frowned hearing her brother sound so vulnerable and angry—with himself and their dad. “Being treated like a hound, dragged from battle to battle. I was a weapon and hardly a child to him anymore. I’ve always wanted to see Lord Stark in battle,” Vi whispered, remembering the first time seeing her father wield Fyre’s Bane. A wild look in his eyes, as though he were never a man of honor. Savage in his fighting skills. Vi wondered if that’s where she gets her ruthlessness from. “He was a true beast on the battlefield. It was like meeting father for the first time.”

Nathar was as still as a statue in the tub. “None of that matters, though. You don’t see the way he looks at you. He never looked at me that way. I was a second son. But you… you were his prize. He admires your natural fighting skills so had you properly trained, you don’t know it but you have Bran’s eyes, and the way father treats you—like a firstborn son. Our father found Bran through you. An answered prayer.” The man whispered.

Vi wiped at her face, feeling tired and not enjoying this strange bonding moment with her brother. “If he looked at me like I was Bran, then maybe none of us had father.”

Nathar blankly stared at the ugly tent wall. He was crying. A grown man feeling the loss of a parent he wished he had. “Perhaps. Once I'm King none of this will matter.”

Vi tapped the side of the tub. “I think we got what we needed out of this soapy water.” She stood and sighed in relief at the immediate chill she felt. She stepped out of the tub and onto the soft skins of deer and other animals. Vi rolled her eyes. “Spoiled highborns.” She grabbed the clean clothes a handmaiden had left her. “Don’t peek or I’ll gouge your eyes.”

“I’ll do it myself.” Nathar mumbled. 

Vi had just pulled on her pants and tied them when the tent opened and two handmaidens walked inside. She instinctively covered her chest. “Why are you here?”

One walked past Vi towards Nathar’s tub. 

The other looked Vi in the eyes. “Do you need help, milady?” The young woman reached for Vi. “...with anything?”

But the bastard grabbed onto the woman’s wrist, stopping the servant from touching her chest. Vi shook her head. “I’m not a lady. I can dress myself.”

“My dear, leave my sister be. She’s a pirate now! Come over here and join us instead,” Nathar was watching the other handmaiden remove her clothes before climbing into the tub with him. “Yes, I could use more company. I'm quite sad and I can use some cheering up."

Vi glared at Nathar but said nothing. She realized who these women were. What they were. Bought for pleasure to accompany lonely lords during battles. Vi let go of the whore’s wrist and nodded. “Go on, then. Please your buyer.”

Nathar only chuckled at those words. “So petty, Snow.”

The woman stayed for a moment, thinking over her words. She politely bowed her head. “Have a good evening, my Lord.”

“I’m not—,” Vi’s words died on her tongue as she let the new title settle over her. She didn’t even register the sounds of giggles while she dressed and quickly left the tent. “...my lord.” she whispered, hiding her own smile.

Vi was laying on the back of a wagon next to Nightwing. “My lord.” she kept repeating over and over again. “Sounds better.”

The men on Silco’s ships call Vi Lord, but here… in this “proper” manner. It sounded so right. So perfect. If Vi was a lord she could marry the princess. Love her, 

…belong to her.

On this cold evening, Vi was staring up at the stars hoping to find words for her next letter to send to the Princess. They are friends and nothing more. Then why does it feel like it’s more? Why does it make Vi sick at the thought and constant reminder that Princess Caitlyn will be married to Lord Nathar Stark? Why would it even matter? Vi was still waiting for Caitlyn’s reply

Why does it—

Vi sat up when the snapping of twigs caught her attention. 

Nightwing hardly budged from her place. Still asleep and gathering her energy for the next battle. Vi silently jumped off the wagon and followed the footsteps that were trying to be quiet. Rows of tents were filled with snoring soldiers and resting pirates alike. 

But this person was sneaking on the outskirts of their camp.

Vi ducked behind the shadows to make her move.

The person wore a cloak. Hood pulled up to hide their identity as they stopped, listened, then moved again. Vi watched them for a moment. Hoping to gather information before she announces her presence. But when the cloaked stranger headed towards the larger “royal” tents where Nathar was resting, Vi sighed and moved forward to rescue her brother.

The bastard froze when the person unveiled their cloak and revealed their face. 

It was Roann.

Vi ducked behind a tree to listen. 

“...so glad you’re here, my love.” Nathar whispered.

Roann said something that Vi couldn’t quite catch. They both disappeared inside the Lord’s tent. Vi left when she heard sounds of kissing and moaning from the handmaiden.

Vi sat in the grass petting Nightwing for comfort. She wondered what it was like to be so in love… yet having to sneak around to not get caught. Nathar was betrothed to Princess Caitlyn. Vi knew he hardly loved the monarch’s heir (and Caitlyn could hardly stand the Stark Lord)  and yet… the bastard felt sorrow for Caitlyn. He humiliated the princess by simply being in the arms of another woman. Several women. Not even keeping himself reserved for Caitlyn.

Vi plucked a handful of grass and felt ashamed with her own thoughts.

Would Caitlyn be with me in the same manner? Hiding me like a whore, but—

…being in love?

They were friends and nothing more. 

After Vi poured her heart to the princess, Caitlyn had yet to respond. Vi felt the droplets fall down her cheek.

[Present]

“Violet!”

…

“Help me!”

Vi stood on a mountain she didn’t recognize.

The skies were dark with the stormy clouds. And the winds carried the freezing cold with them. She struggled to walk through the snow. Shivering and dying.

There were shadows of people standing before her. 

They had no face and their skin—clear as ice.

Vi fell to her knees and cried. Not knowing why she felt immense sorrow. As though she lost a loved one. She opened her mouth and yelled. “Take me instead!”

Glowing eyes watched Vi, remaining where they stood.

…

…

Vi gargled and spat out water. She moaned and cried in pain.

A strong hand grabbed her jaw and forced her mouth open; shoving leaves and other warm liquids inside. Vi struggled against them.

“Swallow it!” The distorted voice sounded familiar. “I know it tastes like shit.” A hand covered Vi’s mouth. “... but it’ll help the infection.”

Vi gagged and swallowed everything.

Milk of the puppy hit her senses, putting her into a deeper sleep.

…

…

Vi was in her room at Winterfell.

There was a weight on her chest. She opened her eyes and looked into the eyes of her direwolf. This one wasn’t hers. Bones? Bran? The wolf snarled at the bastard. “Come home.” she spoke.

…

Vi sat up with a scream. “Ahh!”

Her vision blurred as her blood rushed to her head. Vi groaned and fell back into the soft pillows and warm blankets. By the steady swaying of her room, Vi thought she was either dizzy from the medicines or still on her uncle's ship. Though her room was much larger than her private cabin. Too spacious to still be on a ship. And the high ceilings—Only lords or royalty have these costly accommodations. 

What the fuck…?

Vi felt herself drooling from whatever medicines she was given. She wiped it off and nearly fell into her mattress. Still falling, even with steady ground beneath her.

“Get your ass up.” Vi scolded herself. 

With a pained grunt, she did. 

Vi swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up on shaky legs. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the small cabinets. She hugged them. Desperately held onto them, all while gritted her teeth through the pain. Vi leaned her weight against the wall and looked down at herself. She was naked from the waist up. Breasts exposed to the warm afternoon breeze. There were neat and clean bandages around her middle. None were stained with blood. Freshly wrapped.

A small gasp caused Vi to jump in surprise.

The bastard looked up and saw a handmaiden carrying a tray of medical instruments and bandages. “You’re awake, my lady!”

Vi frowned. “Wha…?”

Remembering her partial nudity, Vi was quick to cover herself. Crossing her arms over her chest. Her face burned in shame. “Where am I?”

The handmaiden hesitated to answer. She blinked and looked behind her. “You’re safe, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady!” Vi snapped and she swayed again. Still drugged. She fell forward and the room spun. Distorted voices called out to her. “Fuck,”

‘My lady!’

Vi felt the soft carpets catch most of her fall. But her stomach burned as sutures reopened. She reached out, making hand gestures like she was writing a letter. “Caitlyn,” she slurred before blacking out again. 

[Months before the announcement of Winter]

Caitlyn was rolling a wooden figurine between her hands. 

A direwolf chess piece used for a war table. But this one… this one Caitlyn specifically requested from the carpenter. Red wood that was carefully carved, sanded, and polished with unique pastel oils. It seeped into the wood, staining it a near pink hue. Depending on where the sunlight hit it.

A fallen wolf from the north.

The princess did her best to refrain from shedding tears at this inappropriate hour.

“...my Princess?” Lord Salo asked.

Caitlyn slowly looked up, her fifth time seated at the council table. And would have been an excellent and exciting learning opportunity only fell to her sadness. As Caitlyn’s thoughts constantly drifted to the bastard of Winterfell.

Seeing all eyes on her, Caitlyn sat up. “Your Grace?” She asked instead.

Queen Cassandra appeared frustrated for only a moment, before motherly concern came over. She stood up, “Forgive me, my lords. It seems my daughter is still not feeling well. She’s been holding in grief for her soon-to-be husband being so far from safety. And I made a judgment in error that she would be ready.” Cassandra directed the last comment to Caitlyn directly. 

Caitlyn felt thoroughly chastised. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

“Lord Commander Grayson, please escort the princess back to her room.” The queen ordered.

Princess Caitlyn nodded to the lords and ladies seated on the council table and quickly got up to leave. They walked in silence towards her room. “I’m not a child anymore, Lord Commander.”

Grayson hummed their silent laugh. “The queen asked me to escort you, and I will.”

Caitlyn stopped outside her room where two other guards were. “Would you do anything my mother commands you to do?”

“Yes.” Lord Commander answered.

Caitlyn silently seethed. “Were there… letters from White Harbor being withheld from me?” She looked Grayson in their eyes.

The Lord Commander remained as still. “My Princess, nothing is being withheld or taken from you. Perhaps… Lady Vi meant to write to you before she—”

“Good night, Lord Commander.” Caitlyn quickly rushed out and disappeared into her room. 

Grayson sighed and looked at the guards. “If she sneaks out, let me know first.”

They both nodded.

Caitlyn heard it and wondered why she was being watched so carefully. She looked around her room and wondered just how she could escape if needed. The servants hallway in her side closet and… Caitlyn looked towards her fireplace and remembered.

The princess didn’t even flinch when a raven flew through her window and perched itself on the back of the sofa. It watched Caitlyn silently. 

She saw the scroll and strange hope filled Caitlyn. As the dead could write again. She rushed to the raven and untied the scroll from its leg. She frowned when she read who it was from. “Nathar.” But he wasn’t Vi.

But he was on his way to the Plains to marry his princess.

Caitlyn wiped her tears from her eyes. It was only weeks away until they married. She lifted a sofa pillow and screamed into it.

[Hours before the announcement of Winter]

The raven was hovering over White Harbor before plummeting towards the castle. 

Its eyes were white with greenseer magic. There was a human in its mind controlling the small creature. In the cover of darkness it landed silently on a window sill. A mouse was holding a small parchment in its hands. Their small beady eyes were blank and white as snow; just the same as the raven. The bird waited until the mouse tied the parchment around the leg. The raven was then released from its magical bind.

It flew away, but not before taking a snack with him.

Vi opened her eyes and felt instant relief. Sending a letter to Caitlyn. Perhaps here, no one would intervene with them. 

She raised a shaky hand and grabbed a cup of water gulping down every last drop. Warging (or, entering a creature’s mind) took a toll on her mind. Maybe because Silco, by sheer coincidence, found out what Vi could do. Spies on the seas. Ravens with white eyes and a human ear, listening to every secret spilled from all the wrong lips. But there was a limit to entering a beast's mind as well as a risk. Vi could give into the temptation and lose herself forever.

But all she wanted was to reach Caitlyn and finally tell her how she feels. 

“I’ll be your knight.” Vi whispered before falling asleep to the strong medicines.

Vi was glaring at the city she saw out her window the following morning.

She miscalculated how far the raven would be traveling. 

The shores were not King’s Landing, but White Harbor. And yet, there was an unsettling feeling Vi couldn’t shake off as she looked down at the city below. It had been years since Vi’s seen this castle, but every time it was from the shores, or the muddy roads leading to Winterfell.

Now, the bastard was dressed in the finest cotton tunic. The lacy ties were opened. Vi didn’t bother to tie them close as she felt more aware. She smelt clean. Freshly bathed in faint scented soaps and shampoos. Vi ran a hand through her long hair and hated how delicate she was treated. She was a fighter. The bastard of Winterfell was a warrior of the sea. No longer a quiet shadow following the Starks. 

Vi needed to leave and figure out how she got here. What happened after the battle when the pirates attacked. Not the Velaryons nor the Grayjoys. Not even the Lannisters or Baratheons. Who was so foolish to challenge their fleet?

“You’re awake, my lady.” the same handmaiden from earlier. “Are you able to walk?”

Vi refrained from angrily correcting the handmaiden. The servant was doing her job. Vi looked over her shoulder. “Why am I in White Harbor?”

Without the blurry vision and the strong medicines causing fatigue and drowsiness, Vi was able to see this handmaiden clearly. She recognized her from somewhere but couldn’t remember the time or place. She was possibly older than Lady Ariana. But the kind and easy life in this castle kept her skin free of wrinkles and remained smooth; youthlike. 

The handmaiden bowed her head in respect. “The lord of the castle sends his regards, but he is not here to see you off. He has business with his last remaining son elsewhere.” 

Vi frowned at those words. “Who is the lord of this Castle?”

The handmaiden stepped further into the room, watching Vi as though the bastard would run at any minute. Cornering a wolf. “House Lunari are the Lords of White Harbor for many generations. The last remaining kin to serve the Gods of the Moon. You both have similar beginnings. House Stark and House Lunari are both known to be whisperers to beasts.”

Vi blinked slowly. Not remembering this in her studies. But it has been so many years. “Whisperers?”

“Wargs. Skin Changers.” The handmaiden simply offered. “You’re from the north, surely you’ve heard of these stories.”

Vi kept her expression neutral while thinking of the raven she sent herself the previous night. “Maybe a few stories when I was brought to Winterfell.”

The handmaiden nodded. “A great direwolf was seen roaming the far corners of White Harbor, but when soldiers would try to get near, she’d either kill them or run away. So for the safety of the people, the wolf has chased out, though not harmed.”

Nightwing.

The handmaiden was an expert at saying so much with very little. She was helping Vi. Which means, someone with a lot of gold wanted Vi alive and safe.

Vi understood now. She tested this theory. “Can I leave?”

“As you wish, my lady. You’re not a prisoner here. Your Lord Commander is waiting for you. That is all I am allowed to say. Forgive me for any secrecy, but you are safe here.”

Safe.

It’s been years since Vi has been truly “safe”.

 Vi wasn’t even escorted to the main floor. She had to figure it out. The halls were short, and every room was closed except for one.

A library.

A simple dark that caused curiosity to bloom in the bastard for this strange feeling. Vi peeked inside and there was an elderly lady. Dressed as a highborn and reading a book. She felt someone staring and looked up. “Good afternoon, Lady Vi. Did you sleep well?”

“Uh,” Vi awkwardly waved and quickly chose to walk away. 

She’s never been to White Harbor like this. How would this stranger know her?

Sevika was leaning against the railing of the stairs that led to the castle. No guards were around to watch her. No one was hardly even here. She barely batted an eye when she saw Vi. “Are you done dying now?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “We still won, didn’t we?”

“Sure kid. We won.” Sevika frowned at Vi’s wardrobe. “Aren’t you cold? Where the hell’s the rest of your clothes?”

Vi was too eager to get out of here. “I hardly feel it.”

Sevika smirked. “They gave you the good shit, I bet. Come on, let’s go. We’re staying at an inn near the Harbor. We’ll head out in the morning.”

Vi tried not to limp as they walked towards the more common area. The lower classes. Away from the strange castle and their strange people. Here, everyone glared at Vi like she was the purpose for the living. But it was nice to see and smell the muck mixed with seawater. This is what the bastard was used to. Vi recognized where they were going. They’ve stopped here before.

Sevika immediately headed towards the brothel where women smiled and called out to them both. Sevika roughly grabbed a woman with large breasts. She groped and fondled the woman’s tits over her gown before pulling the whore into a wild kiss. The woman moaned accordingly. Sevika took that as a good sign and picked up the whore, carrying her to their room for the night.

Vi quickly averted her gaze, still having her manners from when she grew up in Winterfell. And had the bitter cold wash her childhood away. 

“Come on, little hound! Have some fun with us,” a whore called out to Vi.

“Aren’t you cold dressed like that? We’ll get you warm!”

“Yes! On the house for your victorious battles!” said another.

Vi waved politely but kept on walking. “Duty calls, miladies. Perhaps another time.” There never would be another time.

The bastard believed the fairytale she created in her head. As though she were saving her virtue for another. 

Vi checked her perfect bandages once more while she entered the Sea Hounds building. She approached the bar and nodded to the man behind it. “I need a strong one for my bleeding during the night.”

He leaned down and offered Vi a small vial. “Milk of the Puppy for now, bastard. Glad to see you’re alive. Too many lords would hang us for your loss. He’s waiting for you.” He nodded towards the stairs.

Vi sighed. Feeling weary but nodded. “Give me my box first. You still have it? I left them with you last time we were here.”

The barkeep was already sliding a mold-appearing small box. A rugged storage that had probably seen the wars of Aegon the Conqueror. “Here ya go. Kids and their strange treasures.”

Invaluable treasures, the bastard thought.

Vi quickly opened it and sighed in relief when all of her letters from a certain princess were still there, neatly tied together in three small stacks. “Do I have another letter waiting for me?”

“Not from yer lady, but from a little farther north. And Lord Silco has it with him.”

Vi wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. But she quickly ascended the stairs towards her uncle’s private room. She knocked once and opened it. “Yer expecting me, milord?”

Silco immediately stood. “My dear, how are you feeling? Letters are pouring in from every corner of Westeros asking how you are. I made sure you received the best medical attention.”

“Right.” Vi didn’t know why. “I’m fine. Can I send a letter to the Princess? And why are we here?”

Her uncle ignored the question and looked over his niece’s attire. “Where’s your cloak? It’s freezing outside.”

Vi looked down at her simple tunic. Still opened and showing off her bound breasts and other bandages. Vi tied it closed. “I hardly feel it. Must be the medicines.”

Silco got a strange look. Before staring off into the burning heart in his room. “You hardly feel it.” He whispered like a prayer. He smiled as though hearing a whisper from the flames. “Indeed. The Hound of the north is gathering all of his children.” He held up the letter, still rolled up but the seal was broken. “It’s from Lord Stark,”

Vi wondered why Silco never handed it to her. 

“He summons you home, my dear. Winter’s coming.”

Vi hated what this meant. But she also feared what may have happened.

Vi was dressed in warmer clothing the following morning. 

Anxiety washed over her like a sunken ship as she thought about the letter she sent to Piltover the previous night. She was on land, surely it would arrive on time. She was sitting in a tavern waiting for her uncle to wake up and take her home. 

Home.

Vi had a lot of those recently. 

Either a crammed cabin in a ship shared with other children. Or even taverns throughout Westeros when they would dock on the harbors for resupplies. Taverns like this one. Dull with a side of pleasure.

Vi looked up when she heard a woman giggling.

Sevika was in the corner, in the cover of morning shadows, making out with the whore. Fully clothed, yet her mentor was slowly unbuttoning the whore’s blouse. The growl that Sevika let out caused the woman to moan, and Vi wondered if she was truly being brought to pleasure or simply putting on a show for her patron.

Vi averted her gaze before the whore’s breasts were exposed; instead focusing on sharpening her iron-fists and the blades that ran down the sides. Vi only wanted to see one person like that. Even if it never happens, the bastard was still saving herself under the fantasy that it could. She’ll be Caitlyn’s whore if the princess (or, queen at the time) will allow it. She’ll be the princess’ knight or hound. Whichever Caitlyn preferred, Vi would be everything or nothing for the princess.

It’s crazy what love will do to a person.

“I think they’re sharp enough, kid.” Sevika sat across from Vi, the whore was still with them. Now seated on Sevika’s lap. “How ya feelin’? Took a nasty hit, swallowed a lot of sea water. Nearly drowned.” Sevika was sipping a pint.

Vi slowly looked up, her attention on the whore, then to her mentor. Her “Lord Commander” under the Sea Hound fleet. “I’m alive.”

“Yea, ya lucky bastard.”

Vi sheathed the blade portions of her weapon before wrapping them in a thick hide. “Yeah. Lucky. How’d you manage to find me in the chaos of it all?”

Sevika opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she saw someone past Vi’s shoulder. 

Vi frowned then stiffened when feminine hands caressed her shoulders. 

“You’re so tense, my lord,” The whore sat down next to Vi. Touching the bastard’s muscular arms then up to Vi’s face to caress her flushed cheeks. “I can help you relax before you return to Winterfell. Compliments of White Harbor and every battle you’ve fought for the north.”

Vi kept her hands on the table; balled in fists. She didn’t look at the whore or give her any attention until the sex worker leaned too close for Vi’s comfort. Vi jerked away. “No, thank you.”

The beautiful whore frowned, never once had anyone turned her away. “My lord?”

“Don’t waste your breath on this one,” Sevika downed the rest of her drink before opening the whore’s blouse once again and covered the hardened nipple with her mouth. The whore closed her eyes and moaned quietly, enjoying the attention. “She’s never known the touch of a woman, and I don’t think the bastard ever will. More for me.”

The woman seated next to Vi smiled sadly. “I see. I don’t bite, hound.”

Sevika barked her laughter. “That’s not it, little lady. She’s saving herself for a queen.”

Vi gathered her weapons and tried to glare at Sevika, but couldn’t. “Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll be on the docks.”

Sevika didn’t hear a damn word as the second whore approached Sevika and pulled the pirate into a deep kiss. “I’ll take that free ride, though.”

The whore smirked. “For you, it’ll cost double.”

Sevika stood up. “Worth every coin. Let’s go to my room, ladies.”

Vi was approaching the ship with her small bag of equipment when she noticed a raven landing on a post in front of her. She quickened her step to intervene, but the man nearby was faster. 

He snatched the scroll from the raven and looked at the seal. “Gods be good,” he whispered before looking up at Vi. “It’s for you, Snow.”

A raven was flying south.

Its eyes looked out for the window it needed to be at. No longer white with magic, but the lingering message was still in the back of its mind. The raven flew low towards the Kiramman castle. The cloudy skies offered more cover in the night. 

It dove towards the window, missing the silent hiss of an arrow.

The raven dropped dead before it could reach its destination. An arrow protruded from its body. Smaller than most. A set of footsteps approached the raven. One with a limp the other was as quiet as a fox. They kneeled and cut the parchment off the foot. They wore a black glove over their right hand, while their left showed a burned scar.

“Burn the raven and follow me.” One of them commanded the other.

Winter’s coming and the last Wolf returns home.

The last time Vi had traveled north to Winterfell from King’s Landing it was to unite with a family of wolves. And now, perhaps she’s one herself. Riding from White Harbor through the hills of fog and cold. A cold that Vi only felt through the numbness on her cheeks and the prickles of needles through the winds.

Is there such a thing as a summer hound?

A Stark that loves the touch of summer, and despises the lords of winter.

Was Vi still considered a Stark by the people?

A new letter from Winterfell created an urgency in the bastard. Delivered in the night as Sevika shook Vi awake.  She doesn’t know who wrote it and who sent it. All it said was. 

‘It’s father. He wants you home. Now.’

And now Vi was riding a horse at full speed. Was she allowed to abandon her post in Silco’s fleet? Abandon her men who would follow the bastard to the most dreadful battles? Were they not her new family? 

 Now properly dressed for the coming winter, Vi cut through the forests, faster and shorter than taking the King’s Road. A wolf’s howl in the distance didn’t incite fear but curiosity. Vi watched as a lone direwolf ran alongside her horse. A massive creature she was.

Vi smiled. “Nightwing.”

As though recognizing her given name, the direwolf’s attention was now on the bastard. The beast snarled, angry. Like a child hating their mother for being away for too long. It whimpered before disappearing into the thick fog. That’s when Vi heard the bells. The familiar tolls that pounded her ears and chest. Then Vi saw the dark bricks of a place she never considered home. And yet,

Winterfell was her home.

Cregan was the first to spot Vi. A tall young man ran up to his sister and lifted Vi right off her feet. “You’re back! Gods be good. You’re safe and home! I’ve missed you, sister.”

Vi tensed, not used to such open physical touch. “I’m here, Cree.” 

Not after so many years being around pirates and getting into a few fights to defend her own virtue before they realized what she was. But here, the touch was different. Cregan clung to Vi as he cried. A grown man weeping like a broken child. 

Vi gently pushed away to gauge her little brother’s expression. “Where is father? Is he ill?”

Cregan didn’t even wipe his eyes. “He’s,” He sniffed and cleared his throat. “He’s with—,” he froze and realized something. “You don’t know, do you?”

Vi frowned. “Know what?”

A grim expression came over the once optimistic boy. “It’s our sister.”

Vi felt her heart drop. “What’s happened with Powder?”

Powder looked so different, and yet still appeared as though nothing changed. Vi sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to caress her sister’s cheek. “What happened to her? Did she fall? Is this why she stopped writing to me?”

In a winter's sleep, they called it. Nothing could wake up Powder. Still alive, but not here in her body. 

Cregan was the only other person in Powder’s room. He frowned at Vi’s words. “She wrote you more if anything. Once father got word from Silco of what was about to happen to your fleets, Powder had an urgency in her letters. Writing to you almost weekly. Daily. And you never replied to any of them. We don’t know what she was trying to tell you. Something in her dreams. Things she would see whenever mother lit the fireplace. Like she was hearing voices. Whispers from—others. Never here with her.”

Vi kissed Powder’s hair. “I—,I’ve heard of things like that. But Powder, I’m here. Wake up. What do you have to tell me, Pow? I’m here. Wake up.” Vi sighed and looked at her hands. “I never received anything. Not from Winterfell, or,” She thought of the princess. “...anyone else.”

“Do you remember what she said in her earlier letters? About the wolves?”

Vi nodded. “Sharing dreams with her wolf, Fishbones.” The bastard looked to the corner of the room where the very beast was watching them. A near humanity in those eyes before they disappeared. “Warging. Is that what we do when we dream like that? We enter the beast’s mind. Control them? Become them?”

Cregan shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I never tried it. Mother put the fear of every god in me. But, yes, Powder went out every night looking for Nightwing. She would willingly enter Bone’s mind. Control her, while also being controlled by her. It was—it’s hard to explain. Bone was Powder, yet she wasn’t. Our sister went out as Bones, hoping to find your direwolf. Hoping you two were still sharing dreams with one another. We think Powder was going to try to warg into Nightwing’s mind. See where you were at. If you were even alive.”

“Clever.” Vi whispered. She leaned down again. “You were always the smart one.”

“Dangerous, more like.” Cregan motioned to their bed bound sister. 

Vi looked up at Cregan. “What was she trying to tell me?”

He shrugged. “We don’t know. And she never told us, but that only you should know—since, whatever it was that bothered Powder, she said it was about you and the princ—”

Bone’s began growling when someone walked in unannounced. 

Lady Ariana appeared ageless, even in her grief-stricken mind. She looked up and glared when she noticed who was here. “Vi.”

Vi quickly stood up and bowed her head. “My lady.”

Lady Ariana seemed so… exhausted. “Why are you here and not with your father?” She looked at her resting daughter then to Cregan. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

Cregan sighed. “One thing at a time, mother.”

“It’s a queen’s law. Best get it over quickly.” Lady Ariana snarled at her son before leaving. Slamming the door closed. Bones resting back again, instantly snoring.

Vi blinked back her confusion while slowly rising. “Is father—,”

“He’s alive, but… to be honest, I knew you wouldn’t truly care about what befell our brother Nathar. And what it means to our line of succession.”

Vi frowned, seeing Cregan relax. “Line of succession? Wouldn’t that mean you? What happened to Nathar?”

Cregan appeared sad, but accepted his grief. “The New Gods took him home.”

Somewhere in a high castle a princess was laying in her bed, clutching the stem of a Violet. 

The princess whispered to it, sang to it, and laid on it on the pillow next to her. Caitlyn had done this more than once. Perhaps far too many times. “It could’ve been you, my Violet.”

Caitlyn caresses the pillow as though caressing a face. A handsome knight, with the most dangerous and beautiful eyes. Smiling at Caitlyn. Winterborn eyes shimmered with love and affection.

“I love you, my wife.” The voice (the one that Caitlyn had forgotten what it sounded like) whispered before closing her eyes.

Maybe one day Caitlyn will find rest and true love will prevail. For the first time in years, Caitlyn slept and dreamt of Violet once again.

A knock disrupted Cassandra as she stood near the hearth in the Great Hall. “Come in.”

Lord Commander Grayson was seated at the table with King consort Tobias. They all looked up when the red priestess walked in. 

Lady Sun uncloaked herself and looked around. “Where is she?”

Queen Cassandra frowned. “You don’t mean my daughter. Who are you looking for, priestess?”

“They call her King of the Tides to mock Aerys or Lord of the Seas to honor her bravery.” The guards followed the priestess into the Great Hall. She held up a scroll. Unbroken Stark seal. “I’m here for the bastard of Winterfell.”

Cassandra covered her mouth in shock. “She lives?”

The red priestess smiled. “Will Lord Stark continue to honor his vow and join your houses… forever?”

The queen only thought of her daughter, while the priestess only thought of an age-old prophecy. Protect the realm with the union of a Wolf and a Lily.

Chapter Text

[An old memory - 6 years before the announcement of Winter]

Lady Ariana stood in front of Vi, grabbing the girl’s chin forcing her to look up.

Out in a hidden clove of the practice courtyard, the two stood toe-to-toe. When she had Vi’s attention Lady Ariana actually looked over the bastard’s injuries. Tilting Vi’s head to the left and to the right; causing Vi to wince and hiss in pain. The movement pulled at the wounds on Vi’s throat. A nasty hit from an object that was not a practice sword. Finger prints from angrily choking out the young girl—now bruises on the pale skin.

Another fight between siblings. 

Something the lady understood from growing up as a Bolton.

“Be honest with me, girl,” Ariana tightened the grip on Vi’s chin and slowly leaned in close. “Who struck who first?”

Vi may have hesitated but she said nothing; holding her ground. 

Nathar was long gone before the lady of Winterfell was summoned by her youngest sons to attend to a very hurt and bleeding sister. She rushed out, thinking it was Powder. Yet, when she realized it was only the bastard, the lady still helped the girl to her feet.

Lady Ariana glared at Vi and took a step back. “You really are the whore’s wildling they make you out to be, aren’t you?”

Vi’s silence angered Ariana.

“Do you even try?” Lady Ariana hissed, “Would you even try to be different than how they speak about you? The rumors they create in your name! Our name is right next to yours and you let it be soiled with lies.”

Vi whimpered from standing still for so long. She was sure her ribs were broken from Nathar repeatedly kicking her down. 

“Heresy. They call you a whore—just like your mother.”

Vi tried desperately not to let these words mean anything.

Ariana cupped Vi’s face, forcing her to look up. “This is a man’s world, and we just happen to live in it. You need to be your own voice and not this stupid cunt you always are. Follow me.”

Vi swallowed hard. “Why?” The first word she finally spoke.

“I’ve got to get you cleaned up before your—before Lord Stark sees you like this.”

Vi stood in a room with Lady Ariana, and for the first time she felt genuine fear.

She wasn’t sure what this woman was capable of. Bolton’s are cold-blooded warriors. Their armies are loyal, their blades run sharp, and behind every cruel man is an even fiercer woman. Lady Ariana’s words cut deeper than any blade. It opened up a wound Vi didn’t realize ever existed.

Was Vi truly a whore’s wildling?

But she was a warden’s bastard. Vi didn’t belong to the north. She belonged to the Narrow Sea.

Lady Ariana was very gentle, more than Vi’s ever seen. At least, towards the bastard. The lady of Winterfell helped clean every cut, suture every open wound, and placed a hot wet towel over every bruise. 

“I’ll send Roann in to help you bathe.” 

“I’m not a child. I can bathe alone.” Vi answered quietly. Still afraid of this woman.

Ariana had the older handmaiden toss out every used and bloody towel. She stood near the door. “Best scrub off that bastard stink while you have the chance. You still have so many years ahead of you,” The woman actually appeared fearful for her own words. “...before I consider you mine, Lady Violet.”

…

Vi didn’t want Roann there anymore than the angry handmaiden wanted to be there.

The two of them had never been alone in this manner. Roann watched over Lady Powder while Vi watched over herself. Roann was heating up the bath. Dipping her fingers in the tub to check the water. Making sure there were enough towels, enough soap and bubbles to cover the water, and anything and everything to keep herself busy while Vi just stood there like an idiot watching. 

Once she ran out of things to check, Roann stood up and faced Vi. “Well, undress and give me your dirty clothes. I’ll lay out some clean ones for you.”

Vi slowly unbuttoned her shirt, then turned around so Roann wouldn’t see the rest of her nudity. 

Her face was burning with embarrassment. Vi was ashamed of her own body. It was strange, she had always been alone in this type of setting. Even when she was on the ships with pirates. The men hardly looked in the girl’s direction. Choosing to be in the arms of a fellow pirate or women who were as brutal as Sevika. Even living in the capital with her mother. Being raised in a literal whore house, Vi was always left alone. 

And Vi preferred it.

Needed it. 

A necessity to her well-being. 

Vi was looking at herself in the mirror. Staring down at her wraps. The gauze she stole from Septa Mordane to hide herself. Her growing womanhood that Vi loathed. Oh how she wished she were a lord instead. “Do—,” Vi cleared her throat and started again. “Do you… enjoy them?”

Roann was confused by this question. “What are you talking about?”

Vi’s blood rushed to her head and maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Do you enjoy them?” She could barely see Roann’s reflection in the mirror and pointed to her breasts. 

The handmaiden raised her brow. “Do I enjoy your breasts?”

“Your own.” Vi corrected. “Do you enjoy your own breasts?”

“My lady,” Roann stiffly shook her head. “...this isn’t a question I feel comfortable answering.”

Vi rapidly blinked, as though coming to her mind. “I-I apologize. I didn’t mean to word it that way. I was—,” Vi closed her shirt and crossed her arms. Covering herself. “I was only curious.”

“About your own body?” Roann relaxed, seeing Vi so—out of her mind and ashamed because of it. She looked down at her own chest and glared. If only they controlled Nathar the way Roann wanted them to. “Hm,”

“Yes.”

Roann nervously stood there. “When you were living in the capital were you—”

“No.” Was Vi’s quick answer. “Never. I’m,” She looked over her shoulder. “I am untouched. By anyone.”

A maiden.

“Oh.” Roann sounded surprised. “That’s good?” She licked her lips. “Although, there are still rumors about you all over the castle about you and the guards—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the rumors.” Vi snapped. “I hold my own virtue and no one else.”

“Well, that’s very admirable,” Roann felt herself smile softly. “...in theory. But words mean something when you’re a noble. And positive words have a greater meaning to the people that will follow you.”

Vi fully turned around. “You think people will follow me?”

“I know they will.” Roann answered with the most honest expression and tone. “I’ve seen the way the servants look at you. The way you walk with them, eat with them—”

“I have no choice, I'm a bastard.”

“Even then.” Roann remained firm. “Especially then. I’m a highborn bastard too, and no one looks at me like that. What I’d give to have a fraction of the respect they give you. If you become a knight I can also see you as a Lord Commander. Men will be honored to serve alongside your bravery, pledge their swords to you, and armies will follow you to battle. The way your brothers look at you with such respect. You have the respect of a Lord while still being a maiden. I envy that.”

Vi nodded and sighed. “My brothers love me because they think I’m really strong.”

“They love you because you’re strong enough to not hide through your weakness.” Roann remained firm in this belief. “You have the heart of a natural leader. Like a King.”

A king…? Vi laughed off the ridiculous thought. “There aren’t Kings with lives like me. And I do what I want to do, and that’s just to live.”

“Well,” Roann slowly approached the bastard. “...Lord Violet who chooses to live the way she wants to live,” She shoved a clean towel in Vi’s hands. “... undress and wash your own ass. I need to check on Lady Powder.”

The handmaiden left without another word and slammed the door shut.

Vi smiled. “Thank you, Roann. You don’t know how much I appreciate you.”

Roann was leaning against the closed door. Unheard and unseen by the bastard. She was crying. For a reason she could not explain. “Don’t thank me, yet.” She whispered to herself before walking away.

[Present Day]

From all the times this boy/man got on Vi’s nerves. Angered her enough to clench a dagger in the middle of the night—wish Nathar was at the other end, Vi wouldn’t have thought the man would perish so young.

And not even in a glorious battle.

The son of a bitch died from a fever. 

Vi struck a match and lit one of the torches on the wall. She looked down the dark staircase and sighed. “For the Starks.” she whispered before descending them. The crypts were Vi’s least favorite place. In fact, she would be fine never visiting this place again after tonight.

When Vi rounded the last spiral she expected to see her father. Just as everyone kept telling her. Instead,

Lady Ariana was standing in front of the crypt. A single candle in her hand. Melted. Wax was now dried down the Lady’s hand as the woman stared in front of her. 

Vi slowly approached the woman. She lit the other torches, bringing bright illumination to the darkness. Vi held onto the torch and stood next to the woman. Neither said a word for the longest time.

Vi hardly grieved her brother. It was sad that he had died, and yet, the bastard could not bring herself to care in the slightest. It was strange standing in front of his statue. Carved to perfection to resemble the fallen Lord. It was strange how Vi missed him. Even years prior when Vander dragged Vi from Silco’s fleets to help them fight their northern battles, Vi thought she missed him then. Even as he went away and lain with whores and Roann. Ruining himself for Caitlyn.

She missed Nathar in a way she could not explain. 

As though her brother was meant to fulfill something that was beyond Vi’s name and stature. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Lady Ariana whispered angrily. 

Vi said nothing. Just silently paying her respects. 

“You should not be here.” The lady repeated. Voice laced with heavy grief.  Quivering on every syllable. 

Vi still remained silent. Knowing her place next to the lady. 

Lady Ariana didn’t even hide her tears through her anger. “Every time you come to Winterfell—it’s because I lost a son.”

Vi slowly inhaled.

The lady was not wrong and had every right to be angry at a child that did not belong to the Stark name. 

…or, so Vi thought. 

The bastard would have preferred the lady stab Vi in the heart than what Lady Ariana did next. The lady of Winterfell held onto Vi as though she were a lost child; finally found again. Weeping into the cloak while desperately holding onto Vi’s arms for support.

This,

No one prepared Vi for this. 

“Curse be to King Rhaegar! May his kin burn in the very flames they so love! War was not meant to be here.”

Vi swallowed hard. “He fought valiantly.”

“You hardly loved him.”

That was true. But now was not the time for it.

“I want him back,” Lady Ariana whispered. “I need them both here with me. I want my boys. I want my sons back!” Ariana hit Vi on the arm. “Give me my sons back!” she pounded her closed fists on Vi’s chest.

The bastard, now standing much taller than her mother figure, accepted every hit. It didn’t hurt. Not physically, but Vi knew what grief does to a person. Vi remembers when her mother left this world and how she tried to curse every god that men prayed to. 

And now, Vi held onto the torch with one hand and hesitated before pressing a hand against the back of Lady Ariana. Awkwardly hugging the terrible woman. Ariana screamed into Vi’s cloak, muffling most of the sound. The bastard stared dead ahead at her brother’s statue. Glaring at him, even in death, at leaving Vi with this mess. 

Not even alive and he’s still causing me so much shit. 

Ariana’s cries became pathetic whimpers. “My beautiful daughter,” 

Vi knew she meant Powder.

“Please wake up from this winter’s rest and come back to me.”

“Is my father down here?” Vi finally spoke up when Ariana fell silent. 

The woman stiffly stepped away. She wiped at her tears and glared at Nathar’s statue. “No.” Was all the woman offered before walking away and leaving the crypts. 

Vi held up the torch and looked up at Nathar’s face then to Bran’s. “Did you give her the daughters she wanted? The daughters she needed to continue her lineage?” Vi remembered one particular letter, where Caitlyn went on and on about wanting a large family. 

Having a dozen children.

A dozen? Vi asked in reply.

‘ I’m the last daughter of House Kiramman. Our reign and our power rests in me.’

Vi looked down at the dirt. “If I could… I would give Caitlyn all the children she wants.”

The red priestess stared in the flames and smiled. “Your prayers are heard, Lord of Winterfell.”

Queen Cassandra was sitting in her study, furiously writing a letter to Winterfell. “...old gods, new gods—,” The two women were the only ones in the private study. 

The guards don’t count.

They were decorations. 

“Cold gods.” Lady Sun offered as well. “Are we naming all the deities that left humanity to crawl and bleed for themselves?”

“No gods.” The queen replied with a smirk. “You have your prayers, we have ours, and they have theirs.” Cassandra looked up and glared at the priestess. “...and yet, none of them tell me what I want to know.”

Lady Sun was still staring into the fire. It was as though images reflected from her own eyes. Playing out in real time, the past, and even the future. “They tell you what you need to know for now. Give them time.”

The queen stiffly signed the parchment and began rolling it up before sealing it properly. “My days are numbered, unlike yours. How will I know it’ll happen? How will I know I chose the right path for my daughter?” Cassandra felt a motherly concern. “She’s dealt with enough loss to last a lifetime. I need her to be happy, to be herself. I need Caitlyn to be a great queen. My trust in you falls everyday.”

“I don’t need your trust, Cassandra.” Lady Sun finally turned away from the flames to face the queen. “I need your faith. It will happen.”

Cassandra swallowed thickly. “In my lifetime or Caitlyn’s?”

Lady Sun only smiled. “How’s the baby, Your Grace?” She asked instead.

A dark expression came over Cassandra. The queen clutched her necklace and the jewel in it. “Gods be good.” Without another word, Cassandra stood up and handed the sealed parchment to the red priestess.

Then she left the room. 

Lady Sun whispered to the parchment before tossing it into the fire. The color that reflected back was an excellent promise. She followed the Queen down the dark halls towards a forbidden room. 

The days were colder and darker in the afternoon,

And yet Caitlyn felt her spirits brighten just so. 

She sat in council gatherings, gave her pieces for the realm, and even debated Counselor Salo on the morality of his choice to let their fleets invade the south. To make the first moves to prevent wars from coming this far north.

“In your discretion,” Caitlyn placed the wooden direwolf piece on the table and glared at the man. “...you’re wrong. War is already in the North.”

Several others agreed, but the man held firm. “The other great houses involved themselves in the wars of King’s Landing and look what happened? They returned home to invasions and famine. Why have we deployed foot soldiers to stand in the cold mud and be guardians for men who were greedy for power?”

Queen Cassandra appeared void of any sleep. Leaning against her hand, a blank expression on her face as though hardly listening. But she was. She heard every word. “Because the Starks are our Wardens and I made a promise.”

Another counselor openly scoffed. “With all due respect, Your Grace, it’ll be wise to let this ‘agreement’ die out since they cannot provide you with sons well enough for the princess.”

A bold and careless statement.

Princess Caitlyn glared at him where she sat. “That’s my fallen late husband you’re referring to. Tread your next words carefully, Counselor.”

He stared Caitlyn in the eye. “Perhaps the wolves are meant to stay in the North, My Princess.”

Caitlyn stood up, “How dare you speak about—”

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra gently addressed her heir. “I allow these meetings for open discussions.” Her expression conveyed everything else silently.

“Allow a mockery of my marriage with Lord Stark's son?” Caitlyn hardly cared about Nathar. A young man who perished days after their wedding. The princess was a widow.

And still a maiden. 

The counselor shook his head. “Forgive me, My Princess, that is not what I meant by my words. Your Grace, I—”

The sound of a trumpet announcing a visitor distracted everyone at the council table. Caitlyn slumped in her chair then grabbed the direwolf figurine off the table. She clutched it to her chest and whispered a silent prayer. Cassandra was watching her daughter the entire time. 

A guard knocked before entering the room, he whispered something to Lord Commander Grayson. They nodded then quickly rounded the table to the Queen. The other council members were whispering to themselves in low tones, but loud enough for the queen to hear.

Caitlyn was lost in her thoughts, wishing Mel was here with her. 

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra spoke up,

Her daughter looked up and frowned at the tone. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“You have a visitor.”

Caitlyn and Lord Jayce of House Talis idly walked through the gardens.

It had been years since she’s seen her friend and had not known how much she missed this young man. A boy who she saw as a brother, now a grown Lord for his own house.

“I loved what you did with this side of the garden. It’s more colorful.” Jayce pointed out, 

Caitlyn was properly holding onto Jayce’s arm. Walking as lord and lady; prince and princess throughout the gardens. “I spend half of my days out here. So I chose the flowers and plants I wanted. Most of them were favorites of Vi—, It—,” Caitlyn swallowed thickly. “...it helps with my grief.”

Jayce covered Caitlyn’s hand with his own. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend. She sounded very lovely from what you told me. I wished I could’ve met her.”

Speaking about Vi and not even her late husband.

Jayce knew everything about Caitlyn. Even where her true desires lie. 

They stopped near the Weirwood tree. The single tree was now decorated with beds of lilies and violets. Even a statue of a direwolf was resting underneath the shade of the magical tree. To the on-looker, it appeared as though Caitlyn paid respects to her husband… and not the bastard of the north. 

They were now sitting on the wooden bench. Caitlyn leaned against Jayce for comfort.

“I know why you’re here.” Caitlyn whispered. “But I don’t think we could ever be united in that manner.”

Jayce let out a quiet groan. “I know and I’ll never force you to do anything. But I’ve tried to marry in the south, but—my ‘illness’ is well-known. My mother wants grandchildren and she thinks this is the best choice.”

His love of men and women.

“...so many lords don’t want their daughters near me. And my mother is trying to offer me to the Queen, since you and I have known each other for years. I’m the fifth son and you need to marry.”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Caitlyn toyed with the idea and honestly didn’t mind it.

At this point, she would rather marry Jayce, someone who understood Caitlyn and genuinely loved her. Even if the love was different than what she craved. 

“My mother won’t hear it. She has her sights on the Starks, or other great houses in the north. Sorry.”

Jayce’s soft laugh soothed the princess. “I know. But my mother is just as stubborn and has a way with words. I also hear—,” He cleared his throat. “I also hear the queen is hosting a gathering of Lords to find a husband for you. I hope she takes my name into consideration. Even though I’m a fifth son and hardly any women are born into our bloodline. If I do give you daughters, I know they’ll be—tall.”

Caitlyn smiled weakly. “Tall is part of what my mother wants for me. She wants warriors as granddaughters. Wise women to lead her people, and strong-willed ladies to not take any shit from these stupid leaders.”

Jayce hummed his agreement. “Then perhaps a great house from the north is ideal. I hear House Mormont and House Greyjoy have strong women as leaders. Perhaps your mother will join houses with them.” He joked.

But Caitlyn thought about it. “I wonder, Yara Greyjoy is a sea captain. Neither a lady nor a lord, and men follow her. Would my mother let me marry a woman? I just don’t know how I’ll have daughters.”

Vi walked with her brothers towards the Great Hall.

Summoned by their father. 

Lord Cregan slowed before they walked through, now a head taller than his sister. He placed a comforting hand on Vi's shoulder. “When you see him, don’t be alarmed. He’s a grieving man who chose dire ways to feel… alive.”

Vi’s jaw tensed. “I know how he drank when we were kids.”

“This is different.” Cregan whispered. “He also—,” Her brother let himself smile. “There’s a surprise for you. I think you’ll love it.”

Vi didn’t know what that meant, but she entered the great hall without another word. 

Vander was sitting at the long table, fireplace to his backside, probably drinking his fourth pitcher of wine. Tightening her signature Stark cloak around herself, Vi approached her father. Vander appeared the same as he had when they fought alongside each other in Riverrun. 

Vi didn’t know what Cregan was talking about until he looked up as she approached. “Lord Stark.”

Vander was rubbing his beard, appearing exhausted. His face was pale, a yellowness to his eyes. He was dying. Either from grief or something Vi didn’t quite know yet. “My firstborn,” He whispered.

Vi frowned, remembering Nathar’s words from years prior. “It’s me, father. Your daughter Vi.” She sat down in front of him and reached for his gloved hands. Large paw-like hands. His own weapons that gripped the Valyrian blade. “I’m home.”

Vander was looking at Vi as though looking through her. He smiled. “I never thought I’d see you again.” His eyes filled with tears. “I’ve failed you as a father. You were never meant to be in Winterfell.”

A dying man confessing his sins?

Vi leaned forward. “Do you know who I am?”

Vander blinked back his drunken stupor and gently squeezed Vi’s hands. “You’re my firstborn daughter. I know who you are, Violet Stark.”

Vi pressed her lips into a thin line. “Lord Stark, you—”

Vander pulled away and reached into a pocket of his cloak. He pulled out a scroll and handed it to Vi. “I should’ve done this sooner. You were always meant to have a name.”

Vi took it and slowly opened it. Her eyes read the message. A royal letter. 

A written law.

Simple in its text but it held so much power in its message.

Queen Cassandra gave Lord Vander permission to legitimize Vi in their name. 

“You’re making me a Stark.”

“I’m finally claiming you as my rightful daughter.” Vander swallowed hard and leaned back. “There are things I need to tell you, but I don’t know how to word them properly. I love you, Vi. I do love you, my child. I never meant to abandon you in King’s Landing.”

Vi slowly closed the scroll, looking away from Lord Stark.

Vander wiped his mouth, as thinking on his next words. “I always wanted to bring you here. Know all your brothers. I never meant to let you be used for King Rhaegar’s war. I abandoned my… third born. Scared of whispers from embers.”

Vi was worried at her father’s strange words. “You didn’t abandon me. You found me again. You brought me here.”

“Did I…?” Vander wiped his own eyes. “I have sins I need to pay for. And losing my two sons feels as though the gods are finally realizing what I’ve done.”

Vi frowned at those words. “What do you mean?”

Vander reached for Vi’s hands again. He smiled at the way she wrapped her hands. Still protecting her knuckles but not her face. “You’re a great fighter and a natural leader. And now, you’re your own lady now—”

“Lord.” Vi quietly corrected.

Vander blinked a few times. “Lord. Right. I’m sending you south to the Great Plain. Princess Caitlyn will be there. She’s a widow now.”

Vi said nothing, but a piece of her soul was broken—hearing about Caitlyn’s marriage.

Vander sighed. “You have my blood.” Vander sounded tired. So tired. “I found you when I lost… my boy. A pure sign from the gods, Vi. You’re a Stark no matter what anyone says. Lady Ariana lost her baby boys. I can’t imagine what that does to a mother and then she finds out that I may have—” Vander swallowed hard. 

Vi held her breath. “If you’re suggesting I accompany her on this trip?” Vi felt her throat go dry at the thought of seeing Caitlyn again. “It’s been years, Lord Stark. I don’t think the princess would welcome me back so suddenly. Is she looking for a husband? Has she remarried?”

Vander hid a small smile. “Not yet. Are you still a maiden, Vi?”

Vi refrained from rolling her eyes. “Why? You plan on selling my virginity to another lord?”

“No.” Vander cupped Vi’s face with a tenderness the young houndling wasn’t sure this man was capable of. “When I legitimize your name, you will honor your older brother’s betrothal and marriage to Princess Caitlyn.”

Vi blinked slowly. “I—what?”

Vander was now smiling. The edge to his tone was no longer slurred, as though he were waking up from a nap. “You heard me. I’m honoring a vow I made to the Queen, and you’re next in line.”

Vi slowly pulled her hands away. Feeling a rug rip from underneath her. “How will that work? I’m a woman. A bastard. Would she marry me?”

Vander rubbed his beard and looked around the empty Great Hall. “Politically advantageous marriages are rarely formed for love. It’s for the good of the realm. We unite houses, we unite lords with ladies, we share fortune for war. Love may never come from marriages such as these.”

The northern bastard could imagine it though. 

Perhaps one sided. 

But maybe this is what she was being raised for. A warrior from two vastly different worlds would join yet another—not of her own comfort, but necessity. Princess Caitlyn was more than beautiful. She was kind and patient. A shadow, Vi felt like, whenever they visited the Great Plains the Princess would wander the grounds speaking with her servants as though they were great friends.

Equal.

Vi could understand, from the other side of the mirror looking in. To hold Caitlyn as her own—a dream that would be. “And if I love her?” she heard herself speak so openly.

So filled with hope.

Vander looked at her.

Vi continued on. “...if I will love her. When I find it within myself to cherish her, what then?”

She rarely felt comforted by physical touch. But when Vander placed a large hand on her shoulder, it felt grounding. Keeping Vi steady. “Then you’re one lucky bastard.”

Vi chuckled. After a comfortable silence, she spoke again. Softer. “Will this not bring some sort of disgrace in the light of the Seven?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in them?”

“I don’t. But plenty do. Give Cregan a few years and he’d be more than honored to wed Princess Caitlyn.”

Vander rubbed his beard once more. “He’s… Cregan is—I know what he is but he’s betrothed to another. A Tully girl. She’s very beautiful.”

‘What he is.’ Vi thought, thinking back on catching her younger brother in the arms of his good friend. “Does Lady Stark know?”

“No. Let’s keep it that way. Perhaps we can rely on Dywen and Eddard for grandchildren.” Vander smiled at himself. “And since the queen offers her blessing already, you’ll marry her daughter in a week’s time. You’ve received blessings from all over Westeros, actually.”

Vi still felt nervous. “Although it’s an incredible honor I cannot fathom nor repay, all these blessings won’t give you a grandchild… or give Caitlyn an heir. Does the Queen know? Does Her Grace accept me as I am—I–I’m honored… but why?”

Vander nodded, appearing afraid of the mentioned queen. “The queen knows. She knows things. Has done things…  Has plans... for everything. Let us worry about those matters.”

Vi was nervously rolling the charred scroll through her fingers. Slowing when she noticed the Kiramman seal. “This doesn't feel,” …right, “...real.” Even though Vi wanted nothing more than to be married to Caitlyn. 

Give the Princess the love and devotion she deserves.

Vi was scared. 

Terrified.

Vander squared his shoulders and stood up. “It’s real. Just—old stories everyone seems to be on about these days; or whatever they wanna call 'em. Follow me.”

There was no formal ceremony to legitimize Vi.

Just a circle of close family, guards, and important lords in the larger courtyard of Winterfell. The winds were cold, bringing ice from the north. A Maester read aloud the Queen’s letter, stating Vi’s legitimacy. And the former Stark bastard was kneeling before her father and Lady Stark. Vi was holding Fyre’s Bane in its sheath. It was heavy in her hands, but she kept her arms out and her head bowed while the Maester spoke the Queen’s blessing. 

Once finished, Vi unsheathed the sword, gripping the large handle and slammed the blade into the dirt. Vi steadied her breathing before speaking. Memorizing the words Cregan helped Vi prepare for. “I swear on the Stark name,”

The guards stomped the ground.

“I swear on the Old Gods,”

A low tempo of drums began playing.

Vi’s grip tightened. “The first men and the Andals,” Vi slowly looked up. “I will honor the North through life and death as a bastard, as a daughter of Lord Stark,” Vi’s jaw quivered. “...and as a Lord of the North. I will honor you, Lord Stark.”

The guards began shouting and hollering; cheering. “Lord Snow of Winterfell!”

Vi stood up and handed a young guard Fyre’s Bane. 

Vander pulled Vi into a tight hug, followed by Cregan and the twins. “My firstborn—,”

There was a moment of sadness in Vi’s heart from those words. Thinking back all those years about what Nathar told her. Reminding their father of Bran.

“...daughter,” Vander whispered.

But now, Vi couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps Vander only loved her because she looks like Bran.

Arrived at home, only to leave the following morning—as a Lord of Winterfell.

Vi was sitting at Powder’s bedside holding onto her sister’s hand. She was still so small. Too small for this large world that held endless pain and sorrow. “...when we got to Seagard it was much colder on those shores than on the Narrow Sea. You’d think their harbors are ugly though.” Vi smiled.

Powder was still resting.

Still in a winter’s dream.

Vi leaned closer. “What were you trying to tell me? I’m here, Powder. Tell me now, please.”

Nothing.

Vi leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Powder’s hair. She cupped her sister's face, cheeks cold to the touch; like the undead. “I missed you so much. I can’t wait to tell you—,” Vi swallowed hard while standing. Putting some distance between them. “I can’t wait to tell you about my time in port at King’s Landing. Sailing Black Water Bay past Dragonstone. Everything was so beautiful. I’ll take you one day. When the wars are over and the Iron Throne is no more, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

The door opened and Septa Mordane walked in without bothering to knock. She looked surprised to see Vi. “Well, well, if it isn't the little Lord herself. Welcome home, Lord Violet. It’s good to see more Stark children returning home. Alive.” The Septa sat on the chair opposite of Vi.

Vi smiled at the appropriate title. “I’m a strong fighter.”

“So was Prince Nathar,” Septa Mordane pointed out. “Yet, he lost his battles to an illness. Pity, that one.”

Vi nodded. She looked down at her rugged clothes and wondered if she should dress “pretty.” “Any advice on how to behave to a princess I’m supposed to marry?”

The septa was weaving something. Like an oversized winter coat for Eddard or Dywen. “‘No’ is a full sentence.” is all the woman provided.

The woman of so little words, brought a tremendous amount of comfort to Vi. “Thank you.”

When Vi closed the door behind her, the Septa finally looked up at Powder. “Did you ever get to tell your sister about what you’ve seen?” The old woman’s hands shook. “Not my place to say a word, Lady Powder.”

Lady Ariana joined Lord Vi on her journey to the Great Plains of Piltover. 

The very woman who had always down on Vi with such disgust. Disdain. 

‘You’re not mine.’ Lady Ariana would always remind Vi. ‘And you never will be.’

Now made sure the young Lord appeared proper for her travels. “Take this one. She’s a strong horse. Still good for travels, although she’s retired from war.”

Vi was helping Claggor and her men pack up the small carriage that Lady Ariana will be riding in. She wiped her brow and looked at the majestic creature. “This is Nathar’s horse.”

Lady Stark’s expression was stone, though not cold. “Then you know you’ll get there safely with little trouble. On you go, Violet.”

Vi grabbed the reins and smiled at her father. “Why does it feel like I’m sneaking out of Winterfell to have a meetup with the Princess?”

Vander’s expression never waned. “Because you are sneaking out.” He whispered before walking away with Lord Benzo and other close men.

Vi froze in her confusion. She looked at Lady Ariana. “Are we at war with Piltover? What’s going on?”

The lady shook her head. “War is far too simple to explain what has happened over the years. Trust has been stretched to the point where the word seems futile, respect only went one way, and loyalties have been tested through brutal opportunities. Perhaps, now—with you—we can mend this strain, my Lord.”

Vi gripped the side of the saddle and prayed to a nameless god she didn’t believe in.

So she prayed to herself. 

Her own strength.

Her own will.

Vi prayed the coming winter will give her bravery to face Caitlyn after 2 years of silence and fix whatever the hell Nathar may have broken. 

“...I yearn to hear your voice once more, Lady Violet. Perhaps, once you live here, I request you to read my favorite books aloud. And when it gets to the warmer parts, kiss me then so I feel just as the maiden in the stories.” Caitlyn confessed in an earlier letter to Vi.

…

…

Caitlyn expected this gathering sooner or later.

A fancy banquet with expensive desserts and even more expensive wines that cost as much as small armies. The Queen didn’t conserve a single coin in this type of celebration. Money well spent in finding a suitable husband for House Kiramman and its remaining heir.

“You don’t look too excited to be here tonight.” Jayce’s tone was light, meant to be said in jest.

But Caitlyn still grimaced at his words. “I’m truly miserable here. I’m supposed to be grieving for my late husband, but,” Caitlyn nodded towards the crowded Great Hall. “Duties of a princess rarely sleep.”

Jayce smiled sadly. “Well, you don’t seem to be the only one. House Blackwood sent his young son. Unmarried, and as well as House Reed and the Karstarks. The queen really likes the northern houses, doesn’t she?”

Jayce and Caitlyn were standing near the far side of the Great Hall. Where Vi once stood with the Queen. 

“She does. Strange. Even though we have powerful allies in the south and across the Narrow Sea.” Caitlyn was slowly sipping a wine (her favorite), the white wine from House Martell of Dorne. The very same wine that a certain northern bastard seemed to favor. “The queen has her focus on the north for some reason. And I have more important things to do than indulge my mother’s familial concerns.”

“Like practicing your archery skills? Isn’t there a tournament coming up?”

“Yes, but unfortunately it’s not archery.” Caitlyn mumbled. “But no, I have to prepare my announcements as I travel to Dorne, sit on the Prince’s council for a few years.”

“Maybe even find a bride down there?” Jayce wiggled his brows. 

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Prince Oberyn and his many bastard daughters. Although very beautiful, many are far too young to even have marriage on their mind. I’ve met a few when visiting Godsgrace. Very wise and well spoken daughters.”

“Just like you.”

Caitlyn smiled. “Now they are scattered and spread around Westeros. Like lady maesters… only more intriguing. Ladies or spies for him. Very clever for the Prince.”

Jayce raised his brows. “Is that true or a theory?”

Caitlyn sipped her wine. “You’ll never know. At least not until—,” she froze when the musicians began playing a northern style of song.

Caitlyn reached into her pocket and cursed herself. Angry for not having even the smallest reminder of Vi with her. Many danced to the upbeat melody and the princess realized she’s never seen Vi dance to her own music. 

Across the Great Hall a guard rushed inside and whispered to Lord Commander Grayson. They nodded and hurried to Cassandra’s side, relaying whatever message it was. Caitlyn closed her eyes, and figured it was about House Stark and Lord Cregan. The people urged the princess to honor Lord Stark’s vows in joining their houses. Caitlyn only saw the poor boy as a younger Nathar. Similar in stature and appearance. 

Although, where Nathar was cold and distant—angry and bitter at the world, Cregan was a soft spoken Lord who cherished his studies as much as Caitlyn had. 

Perhaps if they do marry, they’ll have something in common to discuss. 

Caitlyn knew this had to have been the secret her mother was hiding. So when Caitlyn heard her mother address her, underlying frustration quickly arose. 

“My daughter. Caitlyn.” The queen spoke in a gentle tone. As though to not spook a nervous animal. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Caitlyn, who was staring into her cup of wine, slowly looked up. “Yes, Your Grace? Are they here now?”

Cassandra looked over her shoulder and shook her head. “They may not arrive until the end of the dinner, but I assure you—you’ll love to see this person.”

Caitlyn felt contempt in her heart. The queen has found a husband for Caitlyn. Without her knowledge, regardless if Caitlyn hated him or felt no love for this stranger, the queen’s mind was made up. And there was nothing the princess could do to change it.

“Is he here?” Caitlyn asked once more.

Cassandra frowned, “ They… have not yet arrived, Caitlyn.”

“Then may I be excused?” At the queen’s deepened frown, Caitlyn elaborated. “Just outside. On the balcony. I need some air. Some… minutes or hours alone will do me good, Your Grace.”

Cassandra reached for Caitlyn’s wine cup and took it. “No more drinking, but go on. Enjoy the evening, my dear.”

Caitlyn couldn’t have left the Great Hall faster than if she was on a speeding horse.

She gripped the stone guardrail in frustration, letting out a frustrated growl. A direwolf would be proud at the sheer force and anger Caitlyn let out. The princess kept walking along the balcony, up the steps that led to a higher landing where the Queen would stand to watch Caitlyn shoot her arrows. The clink of armor from the guards following Caitlyn at a safe distance didn’t bother her.

The princess was used to being followed all her life. 

It was only strange when the noise stopped.

And yet, Caitlyn kept walking. 

The stars were beautiful tonight. Clear night skies with the twinkling stars. The princess wondered if these were the stars Vi had seen every night. That the bastard would write about. Use as a guide to navigate the seas. “I wish you were here.”

…but,

Would Vi want to see Caitlyn walk down the aisle, only to marry yet another Stark Lord? Caitlyn only wanted one person in her bed and in her heart. Caitlyn only dreamed about one face waking her up. The image, blurred, yet full of promise. 

Her tears chilled on her face. Caitlyn carefully dabbed at them to not smear her makeup. She was still supposed to meet the Lord tonight. But here, alone, and away from prying eyes and judgmental looks. 

Caitlyn gripped the railing and looked out at her castle and untouched lands… before letting out the most blood curdling scream. “Arrrrrrrgh!”  

Surely someone heard, but Caitlyn didn’t care at the moment.

She gripped the battlement wall… tempted. Caitlyn closed her eyes and leaned forward.

“Beautiful night.”

Caitlyn gasped in fear from the stranger’s voice. She gripped the brick and glared at a—woman. Off the side, leaning against the same wall as though she owned this very castle. Though appearing like she was hiding, waiting for someone to get her.

“Who are you?” Caitlyn demanded.

Perhaps now was not the time to sneak away and lose her guards. Caitlyn looked behind her, wondering how far she could get if she ran from this stranger. 

The woman shrugged. “A queen’s guest for the night. Just like everyone else.”

Oh. That’s right.

There was indeed a gathering happening just a floor below them. And this woman seemed to have the same idea as Caitlyn. She was dressed in Southern colors, but cloaked for winter. It was colder outside, and this lady was dressed accordingly. Face still obscured by the shadows.

The princess smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, my lady, I’ve had—a few cups of wine. I hope I didn’t bother your night with my scream. I was—stressed.”

The stranger was smiling. “Lord.” She gently corrected. “And, don’t worry about it. I’m sure every princess has a reason to hide. But about those wines, any favorites of the night?”

Caitlyn relaxed at the easy question. And she had an easy answer. “I’ve never quite had the palette for whites, but a couple of years ago we were given a pale wine from Dorne. Perfectly aged, perfectly sweetened. Drier than most, but it is quite lovely. I’ve loved it ever since.” The princess was picking at the brick before looking over to the stranger.

The woman still never moved even though they had a simple conversation going. As though trying not to scare the princess. 

She was now leaning forward looking down at the city below, slowly falling asleep. “I’ve tasted that one before. My personal favorite as well.”

A certain light caught the stranger’s face at the most perfect time.

Caitlyn took a cautious step forward . Needing a better look. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

The woman noticed but said nothing. She was certainly highborn, well fed and well kept. Save for certain scars on her face: lips and eyebrow. This woman was clearly a warrior. Perhaps a knight for a northern House? Her hair was a deep red, kept shorter on one side. (Caitlyn vaguely remembers seeing this style once before). The stranger's face was clean, still hidden by most of the shadows. But Caitlyn could now see it. It was young, yet appearing withered from the weather. Northerner. Her eyes matched the winterborn on a stormy day. Paralyzing Caitlyn in her place.

Those eyes seemed far too familiar to ever forget.

Winterborn’s eyes are rare.

And Caitlyn knew only one person with those intense eyes.

“Who are you?” asked the princess, in a much quieter tone. Heir to the Kiramman throne and power, heir to the golden keys of Braavos, first councilors to the Andals,  and yet she felt as though she should answer to this stranger. “I’m Caitlyn.” She spoke quietly.

The woman appeared sad for a moment, then shook it off. Her demeanor shifted, and a cocky grin took over. “I know who you are, Your Grace. That’s why I’m here.”

Whatever romantic bubble surrounded the princess, popped in that moment. 

“I’m not the queen.” Caitlyn’s jaw tensed while she glared at the stranger. “That’s my mother.” Or, until I marry this “Lord”.

The woman smiled at Caitlyn’s tone. “I meant no disregard of your title, my princess. Only trying to lure her grace’s heir away from the high wall.”

Caitlyn’s attention snapped to the woman. “I wasn’t going to jump, my lord.”

The stranger shrugged while holding out her hand. “I didn’t make that assumption, my Princess. How about I escort you back to the Great H—,”

“Are you making demands of me?” Caitlyn balked. “I don’t even know who you are! Where you came from, or what house you even serve.  And how did you get up here? Worthless queensguard. How did you get past them? Are you with Stark bannermen? Does the warden know his commoners sneak off where they’re not wanted? You could be a spy!”

“Terrible one if I’m entertaining the princess.” The woman mumbled. The woman awkwardly stepped away from the wall—closer to the princess. “I was waiting for the Lord Commander, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Caitlyn took a step back. “I’m not afraid of anyone. Stay where you are! Not another step closer!”

The woman held up her hands and stopped.

Caitlyn glared while the woman was smiling! How dare she find amusement in the princess’ obvious discomfort. Caitlyn wanted to smack off the woman’s smirk, “Who are y—,” the words died on her lips when the lanterns above them were lit. “...you.”

The face was surely different, and yet—still the same as Caitlyn dreamed of.

Every night.

The woman slowly lowered her hands. “My name is Lord Violet Stark of Winterfell.”

Caitlyn felt a lump in her throat. “...you?”

Vi smiled and slowly walked closer to the princess. “Legitimized in the eyes of the Old Gods, ‘temporary’ acting warden of the north, and your future wife.”

Caitlyn was seeing a ghost in the eyes of the cheeky northerner. “You.” She repeated quietly.

A Stranger had returned.

Vi was here.

…here.

…alive?

Caitlyn hesitated then reached out to touch Vi. Afraid she would wake up from the most glorious dream. Vi let her. Hold out her hand to the princess. So Caitlyn touched what she could. Vi’s hands, then up her arms. Gods, was she strong! Caitlyn’s hand shook with every sob that escaped her. “Violet.” She whispered. 

Vi’s eyes glossed over as well. “It’s me. Your sea-born bastard.”

“You’re here.” Caitlyn gasped and threw her arms around her old friend. A fallen dream now reawakened. She held onto Vi with all of her anger and all of her relief. “Vi!” She sobbed.

Vi had the patience of a true Stranger. Letting Caitlyn touch her. Hold her. Remember what the princess may have forgotten. But all the bastard could think of was, “You’ve gotten more beautiful with every year I didn’t see you.”

Caitlyn smiled, reaching up to caress Vi’s face. A more mature appearing bastard. She didn’t expect to do what she did next. But Caitlyn pulled Vi into a kiss that she’s been craving for almost six years.

Vi gasped in surprise but held onto the princess. “Caitlyn,” she whispered into her mouth. Vi kissed Caitlyn’s cheek, her jaw, then back to Caitlyn’s lips. Staying there. Just feeling each other after dormant emotions were slowly reviving. 

Caitlyn abruptly pulled away. Covering her mouth as she continued to cry. “You. Violet, you’re a—,”

Vi blinked slowly, “Yes?”

Caitlyn took a step back. A myriad of emotions poured out of the princess in a single agonizing sob. “You’re here for House Stark? You’re a real legitimized lord?”

Vi smiled and stepped closer to cup Caitlyn’s cheek. Vi’s thumb caressing the smooth skin. “I am. I’m here to marry you. Unite our houses in the Light of the Seven.”

“I can’t.” Caitlyn pulled away. Taking several steps away from Vi. “I’m cursed. I cannot let you die. I cannot marry you.”

Vi frowned at those words. “Caitlyn? What are you saying? I’m here. I’m not dead, please—,”

But the princess (appearing as though she was still grieving her fallen lover) rushed back into the castle. Vi was hurt but she understood and slowly jogged after Caitlyn.

Another red priestess, Lady Melisandre stood next to “King Stannis” and laughed at the images she saw in the flames. “It’s already begun.”

Chapter Text

[A Princess’s Memory - 11 years before the announcement of Winter]

Queen Cassandra was out on the balcony, leaning against the polished marble guardrail. “Hm.” Was all she said. Tapping her nails against the golden chalice in her hands. 

Caitlyn was sitting on a sofa across from her father, going over other letters (that she wasn’t allowed to open), to gain further information. “They don’t march against each other. What are they waiting for?”

“Hm!” Cassandra chuckled before taking a sip from her chalice. She was looking out at her strongholds, far off in the distance. Barely visible in the morning fog. She quickly turned to face her heir. “What would you have them do, Caitlyn?”

Princess Caitlyn looked up from being directly addressed. All the opened letters were spread out on the table in front of her. Eager to abandon her studies for the gossip of a possible war. “Shouldn’t the Targaryens move against them? Show a force of strength.”

“Move against their own great houses? That’s not very king-like. How would you gain supporters by murdering the ones who disagree with you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Speak directly, then. Not in riddles.”

Caitlyn sighed and realized she was being tested. As she always was more frequently. She would be queen after she marries and she would be tasked to defend her people by either sending them off to die in war, or remain behind these walls. And wait for the war to be at their doorstep. 

“The Targaryen’s hold Westeros,” Caitlyn quietly began. “Or they hold the great harbors and the Narrow Sea.”

“And?” The queen encouraged Caitlyn to continue.

“They need to remain as a single alliance. House Martell and House Kiramman have an understanding. House Targaryen, not so much as he desires to be seen as the one true monarch of Westeros. And whatever tensions arise in the south with the Baratheons should be silenced immediately.”

“Silenced how?”

Caitlyn blinked rapidly. “Well, if they’re questioning King Rhaegar’s claim to the iron throne—”

“Are they?”

“Well, they have blood relations. House Baratheon is a direct descendant from House Targaryen. Perhaps the Baratheon lords, wardens of the west, have to gain from the iron throne.” 

“You didn’t answer my question, Cailtyn.” The queen almost sounded disappointed.

“I don’t know.” Caitlyn said nothing more. Silently frustrated with her own ‘lack of knowledge’ of ruling. Perhaps words weren’t her strength. Caitlyn knows what she means to say. Perhaps once Mel is on her council, words will be effortless.

Cassandra finished her wine and entered the room. Preparing to educate her daughter on the engagements of leading a diplomatic nation. 

…

…

Was it wrong to still know nothing, or very little about being a queen?

To still a child, and yet expected to continue the royal bloodline.

A young 10 year old Caitlyn glared at the Lord Commander in front of her. Her tiny arm gently caught in the Commander’s grip. Lord Stark and his sons were visiting Piltover. Dodging her handmaidens, running around with Elora, and hiding from the red priestess who seem to know exactly where Caitlyn ran off to. The young princess knew where her mother’s intentions lay. Only in the blood. Always in the blood. There was power in the queen’s womb, but power in the king’s blood.

Caitlyn only wanted to become a queen if it meant she could read whenever she wanted, sing and walk around the gardens with whomever she desired, and be the queen that the Great Queen Cerenna was.

Lord Commander Grayson knelt in front of Caitlyn and gently wiped the smudge of dirt from Caitlyn’s face. “The Queen was looking for you, my Princess.”

“As were the queensguard, my Lord.” Caitlyn answered smoothly. “Not very good at their service if they easily lose sight of the princess. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Lord Commander Grayson smiled. “They’re good at their jobs, but you’re better at hiding. You get that from the Great Queen.”

Her grandmother.

Caitlyn felt a puff of pride rise within her. She loved being compared to the Great Queen. It meant Caitlyn would make a fine Queen while also being a sharp fighter.

“...Ser Garen nearly broke his legs leaping from the stairs to catch you.”

Ser Garen, a young 17 year old knight from House Crownguard, was one of their most skilled fighters. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what to say about their more veteran fighters.

Bested by a boy.

Caitlyn arched her brow, “Did he die, though?”

Lord Commander Grayson chuckled while standing. “Just the boy’s pride. Come on, my Princess. We need you cleaned up before you meet your future husband; Lord Bran.”

Caitlyn allowed herself to be led back to her private room. 

Lady Mel and Elora were waiting outside; gossiping like the handmaidens in the kitchens. Mel spotted them first. “Shh!” She hushed Elora.

The young handmaiden was new to the Kiramman castle, having followed Lady Mel from their own great house. She kept her head down while the Princess and the Lord Commander arrived.

Grayson gave Lady Mel a pointed look. “Keep your eye on the Princess, my Lady. The Lords of Winterfell will arrive shortly after lunch.”

Lady Mel giggled. “I am not a servant, my Lord.”

Caitlyn smiled at the tone; recognizing the cheeky jokes they would share. Elora hid her own smile.

“...but I shall make sure my good friend Caitlyn is prepared for tonight!”

Lord Commander Grayson arched their brow but said nothing. “Very well. Off you go then, my Princess.”

The three girls rushed inside Caitlyn and slammed the door closed. Caitlyn reached the snack table and poured herself some water.

Mel spun around. “Did you see him?”

Elora politely sat on the sofa, accepting the plate of fruit Caitlyn offered the handmaiden. 

“Ser Garen?” Caitlyn sat next to Elora. “Is that what you're into? A knight?”

Mel shook her head and sat across from them on a chair. “Brawns with no brains is what I’m into. Easily controlled with the right tools, of course.”

Mel was older and already had her mind on marriage; politically, of course.

“He’s a knight.” Caitlyn pointed out. “He took his vows.”

Mel smirked. “He can keep his vows. Sometimes people can be bought with gold, my Princess.”

All three girls jumped at the sound of the horn.

Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “The Starks!”

They rushed into the second area of Caitlyn’s room and ran out onto the balcony. Caitlyn leaned over to get a better look at the northern bannermen. “I think I see Lord Stark.”

Mel leaned against the railing as well. “Yes, but do you see Lord Bran?”

Elora pointed. “There! The one with long hair!”

Caitlyn frowned when she spotted him. “He’s old. I’m still a child. Why is mother so eager to find me a husband?”

Mel hummed. “He’s only 18. The two of you won’t be married for another 8 years. And possibly  since the Queen struggled to get pregnant for years, perhaps she needs you to try having daughters right away.”

Caitlyn glared at the young man. “It still doesn’t make it right.”

Lord Bran was indeed a handsome fellow.

But young Caitlyn couldn’t tell the difference when her heart settled for the fairness of someone like Lady Mel, or even Elora.

…

…

…or even when Caitlyn met Lord Nathar.

He was indeed the ‘prettiest’ of the brothers. Very fair and slender for being Lord Stark’s second son. 

But now,

Only betrothed to Lord Bran before he died in the earlier battles before the wars began, and then Nathar—succumbed to an unknown illness on the night of their wedding.

…

…

[Present]

Caitlyn is no longer a child with an excuse to run away from her duties.

She was a young woman, and a widow. Caitlyn was sitting at the dinner table, across from a Stranger that returned to her. The princess was more worried about her curse. A curse Caitlyn named herself as a bad omen. If she married Vi, would the Lord perish after they are married?

But Gods,

…was Lord Vi truly beautiful as a woman!

Well grown into her body. Very well if the princess thought more about it. Caitlyn’s face burned with shame where her mind went. She had just found Vi all over again. Neither a stranger nor dead. Caitlyn’s heart and mind were confused on what to feel.

Relief? 

…Vi was alive!

Anger? 

…Vi was alive and never wrote the princess back.

Fear? 

…Vi was alive and chose not to message Caitlyn anymore.

At least, they had those four years with each other. Four strong years of writing to each other every month. Was Caitlyn the only one to remember what they shared? When adolescent love was stronger than a swinging blade? When the princess was willing to commit heresy in order to touch Vi—kiss her? When young hope kept Vi alive even in the heat of war? When the bastard of Winterfell confessed her love for the princess… only to sever their connection shortly after?

Vi was listening to the Queen speak about—whatever the hell her mother found important. Vi laughed at Cassandra’s words.

…or funny.

…or,

Caitlyn blinked away her million thoughts when she realized the Queen was speaking directly to her. “...sorry, Your Grace?”

The princess forgot where they were at.

At the “celebratory” dinner with friends and family. Lady Stark sat next to Vi, speaking with Tobias. Mel and Jayce were on the far end of the table speaking quietly to one another. Mel’s attention frequently pivoted to Caitlyn. Still a loyal friend after all these years.

And Vi was now frowning; worried. Her attention was no longer split, but fully on Caitlyn. But she too appeared afraid to speak.

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Caitlyn, I was giving my condolences to Lord Vi and her fallen brother.”

Minimized to a “fallen brother” and not a fallen prince.

Vi smiled tightly, “Yeah, I uh… just found out when I returned to Winterfell.”

The queen reached over to soothe Vi. “Early deaths are never handled easily.”

Vi shrugged. “Well, that’s—my life. Kind of.” Vi looks more nervous now, before looking up at Caitlyn once again. 

…appearing as though she’d rather be elsewhere.

One hand neatly on the table while a fork oddly rested in the other. 

The anger slowly rose to the top. Caitlyn looked down at Vi’s hand. Wrapped in expensive leathers. Scarred knuckles and rugged hands that carried whatever weapon Vi favored. Caitlyn was supposed to be angry and yet, Caitlyn slowly reached across the table to touch Vi again. Afraid to wake up from this dream. Their hands clashed from the opposite lives they lived. Caitlyn’s hands were smooth and cold from the night air while Vi’s hands were larger, firmer, and warm. Almost hot to the touch.

Caitlyn touched Vi’s fingers first, smoothing her hand over the rough knuckles then caressed more before reaching the leather wraps. Vi was watching her the entire time. When Vi slowly turned her hand, hoping to grab onto Caitlyn’s, the princess already pulled away. Yanking her hand back as though burned. The action caused Vi to sigh aloud. Bringing minor attention to her distress.

But nevermind the bastard who ignored Caitlyn’s letters.

“How could you do this to me, Your Grace?” Caitlyn looked at her mother. “How could you let me wallow in a useless grief when I would have easily chosen to ride north. Gone to Winterfell to be there for my—friend! Did you know she was alive this whole time?”

Cassandra slowly lowered her chalice, “Caitlyn, my dear,”

Vi was frowning; mouthing ‘Alive?’. Confused.

Caitlyn abruptly stood and left the table without properly asking to be excused. Vi flinched at the loud scraping of the chair against the stone floors. Mel’s attention shifted to the escaping princess, but Jayce held her back, shaking his head. 

The bastard looked down at herself and then to the queen. “Sorry, Your Grace, I should’ve dressed more… appropriate. More… Lordy.”

Cassandra sighed and shook her head. “That’s not it.”

It felt very strange “casually” being around royalty of such importance. While Vi was just—Vi. Bastard of a northern lord. Born in poverty and raised as a servant. “Should I have gone after her?”

The queen was staring into her chalice, silently praying under her breath. “Caitlyn’s seeing a ghost. Nothing more.”

Vi stilled her breathing. “Is she angry with me, Your Grace?” Vi didn’t realize how nervous (terrified) she was to be around Caitlyn. “Does she not want to marry me?” Vi felt like passing out, bringing up a marriage in front of the queen.

Cassandra shook her head and smiled at Vi. “In your defense, Lord Vi, Caitlyn never wanted to marry anyone. If she could, she’d rather be her own knight. Caitlyn always told me how she wished I had—dozens of daughters before her. What she fails to realize is that there are more than a dozen of stillborn sisters that came before her.” 

Vi audibly swallowed. “Oh… sorry.” How the fuck am I supposed to give Caitlyn a daughter…? Or a dozen? Was it getting hotter in the Great Hall or was Vi hoping there was a wild fire to distract the monarch from this strange conversation? 

Cassandra sat back and placed her chalice on the table. A servant rushed to refill it. “Once Caitlyn has her hopes and dreams set, it is very difficult to have them ‘stray’ back towards her duties that are required of her. Perhaps I was too hard on her. Never allowed Caitlyn to simply be a child. She wanted a world of freedom and you were that shiny token for her.”

Vi didn’t understand what the queen was trying to say.

“...but it’s not my place to speak on behalf of my daughter. After two years of silence on your end, what did you think would happen? No one’s heard from you. Not us, not Winterfell, and not even—” Cassandra stopped herself. “Cailtyn mourned for you, she cried for you, and she buried you. Now’s your chance to go after her, Lord Vi.”

Vi’s frown only deepened with her confusion. “What?”

Caitlyn wiped the sweat from her eyes while she lifted the practice wooden sword. “Don’t hold back again! I know you are!” She shouted.

The young squire hesitated before lifting his own sword. He looked over Caitlyn’s shoulder. Possibly to the queen. A deathly fear in his eyes, but he continued on. Caitlyn was terrible with the sword. Too new in the form of combat. She swung it too wide, without true form. The princess kept swinging and “fighting” her opponent until she struck the boy’s face.

…

…

Vi was told by several guards that Caitlyn had run off to her favorite part of the gardens.

Vi had jogged after the princess (with permission from the Queen, of course). She was breathing hard after Vi finally found Caitlyn. “Damn, she’s fast. Heavy garments clearly don’t slow down the princess.”

The princess was standing in front of the Weirwood tree. The very same tree Caitlyn had shown Vi so many years ago. The bastard looked back at the guards who followed her, as though seeking guidance from them. They just stood there.

“Shit.” Vi whispered and slowly approached Caitlyn.

The princess was staring at a memorial statue illuminated by garden candles. Sitting in oils to burn for days on end. It was very beautifully decorated. And as Vi got closer she could see the bed of flowers surrounding the Direwolf; they were all violets.

Caitlyn was holding onto her own candle before setting it on top of the wolf’s head. She never acknowledged Vi.

So the bastard tried to—lighten the mood. 

Vi stood close to Cailtyn, but far enough. “Nice statue.” She whispered.

Caitlyn remained silent. Just watching the small flames flicker in the breeze.

Vi sighed and swallowed hard. Fuck, I was never good at this. Unfortunately… Nathar was excellent at bullshitting his way into women’s hearts. 

Vi awkwardly pointed to the flowers. Nothing worse can happen than the broken arm thing. “I love the choice in flowers,” Nice start, keep it going, “...but I’m more of a lily lady myself.” She smiled, hoping to get a reaction out of Caitlyn. 

Relieve the obvious tension. War was much simpler than this. Swing a sword and kill her enemy. 

Vi did get a reaction from Caitlyn, but definitely not what she wanted. 

Caitlyn glared at Vi. “That’s all you have to say, huh?” The princess snapped.

Vi winced, not liking the anger she was hearing. “I mean, they’re nice.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “That’s what you have to say after all these years?”

Vi straightened her posture. Okay, this may be easier than Vi thought. “No, no. I believe I said something about a beautiful night?”

Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh my gods,” she whispered angrily. “Mother, give me grace. I’ve fallen for an idiot.”

Vi hid her smile. Fuck. On a scale of getting bitch-slapped by Sevika or dying of a fever like Nathar— this definitely fell on a scale of awkward and unfortunate for the bastard. Vi thought about just winging it. “At least, I’ll be your idiot.” Vi switched on her charming smile, hoping to disarm the rattled princess.

It did nothing of the sort. 

Caitlyn just glared at Vi. “Really?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make you feel better,”

“Perhaps you should stop trying to do anything, Lord Violet.”

Vi snapped her mouth shut at hearing her full name. It wasn’t like the night before. Whispered in prayer and devotion, but rather in frustration and bitterness. I fucked up.

Caitlyn covered her face and inhaled sharply. “Why do you do this to me?” She whimpered.

Vi didn’t know how to respond; and wisely chose not to. 

“Why do you have to look at me like that?”

Vi looked away, hoping to offer something.

“As though I’m your world?” Caitlyn’s voice shook with grief. 

Because you are. Vi thought. 

“We were children when we met. And I wanted your life. I wanted you to live with me, but as you were back then. That’s who I fell in love with.”

As I was? Vi tried not to appear broken at those words. Has she changed so much in 6 years?

“I’ve given up on trying to move on from you. You were it for me. The one my heart settled on. Not Bran, definitely not Nathar, but you, Vi.” Caitlyn looked at the direwolf memorial. “If I could choose who to marry, it was always you. I did all of this for you thinking you were at the bottom of the Narrow Sea or ripped to shreds by armies—I don’t know what happened when your letters stopped. But, you don’t get to waltz back into my life—so unannounced, so terribly handsome,” Caitlyn blinked back her own confusion. “...and be my betrothed. Marry me. I can’t even begin to imagine how—why our parents think this is a good idea, even though this is exactly what I wanted! It’s so fucking confusing!”

Vi now understood. Perhaps a little, but she understood where Caitlyn’s anger was coming from. They fell in love with the idea of each other. When they both complete strangers. When each other’s worlds seem much more beautiful than the world they grew up in. Vi wanted to belong to a strong and loyal family, while Caitlyn wanted the freedom Vi had. No pressure on the bastard’s name to provide anything. Vi was allowed to live, while Caitlyn was forced to become a shadow of the queen.

Strangers to lovers.

…but isn’t that how all marriages work?

Meet your bride on the night of your wedding?

Vi looked down at herself. Caitlyn could do much better than a legitimized bastard—who had no cock to impregnate the princess. Such a “useless” tool Vi never found appealing, yet now she craved it at this very hour—to be “worthy” for Princess Caitlyn. At least then, their marriage would make more sense. Vi would gladly give Caitlyn her seed. Be a flowing fountain for the princess if that’s what she craved.  

“Do you have any idea what my heart went through when you stopped writing me letters?”

What?

Vi faced the princess and boldly shook her head. “I never stopped writing to you, Caitlyn.” Vi’s confused expression seemed to only anger Caitlyn even more. 

“...when I was told they couldn’t find you after the battle of Blackwater Bay?”

Vi blinked and nervously rubbed her hands together. Remembering all the ‘innocent’ lives she was commanded to take. “You heard about that?”

“If it concerned you, I learned everything about the Sea Hound fleets and their whereabouts.” Caitlyn whispered. “Where you were headed, where you just were ported at. You hardly told me anything—but that was fine. As long as I heard from you.”

Vi was now staring hard at the weirwood tree, quietly seeking guidance. “I didn’t know you did all of that for me.”

“Yes, because I care about you. I was a young girl in love. In love with the idea of having my own friend—my own charming pirate.”

Vi took a step back. “Caitlyn, I swear on every god (old and new) I never stopped writing to you. I even told you I fell in love with you too. But—your letters stopped. I thought I scared you away.”

Caitlyn got a curious look in her eye. Her mind thought of different possibilities, then turned her sharp attention on the bastard. “Vi,”

Vi took a cautious step back. “Yes?”

Caitlyn followed, stepped into Vi’s space with a righteous fire in her eyes. “Did you meet someone out there?”

Vi continued to back away. “What?”

“Was she prettier than me? Did she give you something I couldn’t offer until after marriage? Did you fall in love with someone else?”

Vi backed away, shaking her head. “No! Never. I even—,” She cursed herself for backing against a tree. “I’ve never known anyone like that.”

Caitlyn pressed forward and roughly pressed her closed fist against Vi’s chest. “How should I have known when this was the last word I received from you. Ravens don’t get lost in the wind unless you wrote to another.”

Vi looked down, covering Caitlyn’s hand with her own. The princess pulled away, leaving an old parchment in Vi’s hand. The bastard could see what it was. Vi’s confession from so long ago. Vi frowned. “You kept it?” She looked up into Caitlyn’s eyes. “When you never responded, I thought this ended up in a hearth or something.”

“I would never.” Caitlyn’s eyes were filled with tires and fatigue. “I would never throw you away. Not when you mean so much to me.” 

Caitlyn closed her eyes when she felt Vi cup her face. She didn’t want to see the pain in those eyes. It was too confusing for Vi to even be here! 

“Caitlyn,”

“Vi,” Caitlyn trembled. 

Vi rested her head against Caitlyn’s. “I don’t know what happened to our letters, but please believe me when I say—I still write to you. Even now. Just days ago I sent a letter. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ll make up for it in marriage. In love, I’ll love you endlessly. Even in the bedroom—,”

Caitlyn pulled away, hearing those words. “I cannot marry you.”

“Okay, damn.” Vi dropped her hands, defeated. “I—I don’t understand, but I’ll understand if you’ll tell me why and I’ll obey your wishes.”

Caitlyn shook her head. “It’s not that. I want you. I want you in my bed, I want you by my side—but I cannot marry you. I have a curse on me!” She slowly walked towards the memorial. “Bran was supposed to marry me and he died. Nathar married me and he died on our wedding night! What would happen to you? I’ll marry, lie with you and you’ll perish in the middle of our love making!”

Vi desperately tried not to smile, knowing the princess was surely in agony at the thought. Instead, she kept her distance. “I think my heart can handle you in the bedroom, as your king, and everything you offer.”

That did it for Caitlyn. 

The princess smiled softly, albeit sadly. “Give me time, my Lord.”

Vi remained silent. 

Caitlyn picked up the candle and faced Vi. “I may have buried your brother only weeks ago, but I buried you long before that. I just—I need time.”

Vi politely stepped aside. “Of course, my Princess. Anything you need. I’ll be here for you.”

Caitlyn approached Vi and reached up. Vi understood and leaned down, letting the princess kiss her cheek. 

The guards followed Caitlyn out of the gardens leaving Vi alone in the middle of the night. The new Lord looked at the direwolf memorial for only a moment before breaking out into the dopiest smile. Vi reached for her lips then her cheek.

“She thought of making love with me?” came a giddy whisper from the bastard. 

Sevika was marching towards the ship with a purpose in her step.

Several men were trailing after her. The Lord Commander looked around the bodies on the ground. Neatly in lines. Pale as the dead—because they were. A small and unknowing port provided them cover for these sorts of situations. The wood groaned as Sevika nearly jogged up the walk and onto the ship.

A bloody graveyard was everywhere.

Sevika approached one body, pulled the sword out before kicking it overboard. She looked around and frowned. There were a few tired men that were waiting for her command. “Toss them all overboard! Silco has enough bodies for now. Make room for them and we’ll head out!”

A large tattooed man was using a knife to scratch his chin. “Why even keep ‘em? They’re fish food! Taking up space and smellin’ a muck of ass out ‘ere!”

A few men grumbled their agreement. 

Sevika growled under her breath as she approached the man. He matched her glare, foolishly not backing down. The Lord Commander got in the man’s face. “Silco wants large bodies. I don’t ask, I hand them over. Toss these bodies overboard or you’ll join them.”

“Aye!” the men shouted before getting to work.

The man rolled his neck but eventually (begrudgingly) went to work on removing the bodies.

That left Sevika with her final task. She headed towards the high captain’s cabin and walked right inside. 

Silco was standing there reading through several parchments, old and new. He never even looked up. “If your news doesn’t involve the proper amount of bodies, I don’t want to hear it.”

Sevika grabbed a bottle of whiskey and sat down. “Smells like shit out here. But no,” she took a swig. “It’s about our niece and your brother.”

Silco smiled. “I’ve already heard about Lord Vi. I too, have my own eyes everywhere.”

Sevika raised her brow. “Doesn't it make you think about it? Why does the queen want a female bastard for her daughter? Shit, I’m right here. I’ll fuck the princess every night until she begs me to stop—or begs for more.”

Silco didn’t like that. “Mind your tongue. The Kirammans are a righteous and holy house. Unmatched for fleets when they hold high grounds that even keep out the dragons. Is that what you would have me do? Invade a peaceful city for one girl?”

Sevika shrugged. “The queen pulled her men from the north. Fucking spoiled bitches couldn’t handle the cold. If the Lannisters invade or move north, Winterfell could fall.”

“They’re not northerners.” Silco pointed out. “The Lannisters will have nothing to do with the north. The Baratheons however? Perhaps we should keep our eyes on them.”

“You’re watching them, aren’t you? Yet, you’re here in the south. And on water.” Sevika rolled her shoulders. “What about Vi?”

“What about her?”

“Didn’t you keep saying something about plans you have for her?”

Silco slowly looked up. “ Had plans. Do I look like I’m struggling with her loss?”

“We lost a lot of men who followed her to Winterfell.”

“Let them be loyal to her. She’s bled enough for this fleet.” Silco sighed and gently folded the parchments and placed them on his desk. “Like our niece, I’m just a northern bastard tossed aside that sought out freedom. That’s why you’re here. A former slave from Essos. And everyone else. We do not kneel to a throne. We only have ourselves.”

“‘All men must live and die free.’” Sevika quoted.

“Precisely.” Silco whispered. 

Mel was leaning over the balcony beside Elora, while Jayce was speaking with a few other lords in the Great Hall. “Do you see them?”

Elora shook her head, “No, my Lady.”

Mel sighed and stepped away. “Were not in the queen’s presence, you can drop the handmaiden act.” 

“Sorry, a hard-warn habit that will surely never die.” Elora  stayed on the small balcony trying to get a better look at the gardens, but from this side of the castle, impossible. 

Mel slumped onto Caitlyn’s sofa. “Bastard is now a lord. Hm.”

Elora smiled. “Lord Vi’s being called much more on the eastern shores: Lord of the Seas, King of the Tides.”

“I like that one.” Mel grinned into her wine cup. 

“So do I,” Elora looked over her shoulder. “Was she a commander of the fleets?”

“No, Lord Silco still holds those reins. Runs a tight ship, I hear. Though lately I haven’t heard much from him or his second.”

Sevika.

Mel stared off at nothing, thinking back on the very few times she’s met the self-named “Lord Commander”. Mel wondered, was more than curious, if the large woman was capable of being mischievous. A split loyalty to the gold or Silco. Silco has access to lots of gold and Mel wanted to know how and why. 

…and if this man was interfering with Caitlyn’s letters all these months—perhaps years. 

“I need to alert my birdies on newer sights.” Mel whispered to herself. 

Elora walked back into the main room to sit next to Mel. “They weren’t able to catch who was interfering with the letters?”

“I’m sure they did. But they could also be more loyal to the other party that intervened.”

Elora was now worried. “Wouldn’t that be bad for your own gold? Cut them loose now before they reveal something to someone we don’t even know who they are.”

Mel smiled. “That’s why I’m keeping them. So I can keep pretending I’m a dolt and none the wiser to their deceit. They’re spies for everyone and I still need them now. Especially now that it's gone quiet on the Narrow Sea.”

“After the Battle of Blackwater Bay it’s been quiet over there. Do you think the Sea Hound fleets will strike King’s Landing again?”

Mel shook her head. “Not against the rising Lannister army. Although, I am curious to see that sort of battle.”

“Would Lord Vi fight for the north or remain here?” Elora asked. “Lord Vi. I love that for her. That and her titles from the Narrow Sea. Such strong names for the bastard. She was a great fighter, wasn’t she?”

Mel didn’t get to answer.

There was shouting just outside the door.

“I said I’m fine!” The bedroom door swung open and the princess barged through. “Just send in my handmaiden, please.” Caitlyn slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against it. “Finally able to breathe.”

The princess’s eyes were closed, so she didn’t get to see her visitors. 

“Caitlyn,” Mel gently announced.

At the voice, Caitlyn began crying. She smiled through them. “I’m not sad anymore, I swear. I’m just—I need to breathe for a moment.”

“We know.” Mel scooted over so there was room between her and Elora. “Come here. Tell us everything.”

Caitlyn sniffled and quickly made her way to the sofa, collapsing heavily into the cushions. She leaned her head on Mel’s shoulder. Elora took one of Caitlyn’s hands and began massaging it. Caitlyn sighed in relief as she closed her eyes.

“She’s still as perfect as I dreamed.” Caitlyn whimpered. “This doesn’t feel right, yet my body is alight with excitement in her presence. I am unraveling like a whore. I need her so badly.”

Mel and Elora shared a knowing smile. “Does it excite you that Lord Vi is taller than you?”

Caitlyn cried and giggled at the same time. “In ways only the books could explain.”

Caitlyn went on about what they spoke about. About Vi still being a maiden—although confused about the queen’s involvement in their relationship. The conversation quickly delved into Vi’s new physical appearance. Mel sat back and listened, while Caitlyn kept going on and on—like they were in the academy and Vi was the newest student from a noble family. They helped the princess begin a bath to soothe her growing anxiety. Elora and Caitlyn were excitedly discussing the color of gown Caitlyn should wear. While technically the princess is still in her “grieving period” for her late husband, being married off so shortly is common for highborns. 

But now, in the middle of night when all the lords and ladies should’ve been asleep, Mel was wide awake leaning against the balcony once again. Sipping the most expensive wines while looking out at the marvelous kingdom the Kiramman’s had carved for themselves. Caitlyn and Elora were sound asleep on the bed, snoring like the spoiled ladies they deserved to be.

Mel was in her own nightgown, but she still wasn’t tired. 

Whispers and spies never sleep either.

Mel’s attention snapped to the main room. She narrowed her eyes and quickly followed the strange noise she heard. She realized it was quiet voices just on the other side of the main door. Mel grabbed a knife to be safe.

Without hesitation, Mel swung it up and glared at the person. “Who’s there!” She held up the knife as her defense. Mel looked down and blinked in surprise. “Lord Vi?”

Lord Vi was kneeling in front of the door, folded parchment in her hands, prepared to slip under Caitlyn’s bedroom door. The guards were behind Vi, still at statues, allowing her to pass.

Vi’s eyes widened with embarrassment. “Sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She quickly got up. Vi awkwardly held up her hand with the parchment. “I was just, I wanted to write the princess a letter and hand it to her directly, but I didn’t realize how late it was—and I’ve been drinking with Lord Jayce and some other fancy men.”

Mel smiled and quickly lowered her knife. “Barely betrothed and off celebrating past hours?”

“It tastes good.” Vi was still dressed—as a drunken sailor in Mel’s opinion, but now the lord’s tunic was slightly untied… showing off the inks and scars that every King should bear. 

Mel smirked at Vi’s horrible composure. “Well, Lord Vi, it’s great to know you’re meeting friends of high status who will make even stronger allies. But… you look absolutely terrible. Has the former pirate learned that royal wine drives the blood much quicker than the stolen pirate wine?”

Vi’s face was flushed with shame. “Yes, my lady.”

“And this?” Mel nodded towards the parchment. 

Vi held it so fondly and carefully, Mel almost fell in love with the Lord on Caitlyn’s behalf. “Can I give this to Princess Caitlyn? It’s not very important I guess. Just thought this’ll be… romantic.”

Vi looked so terrified, Mel thought to finally offer the lord some pity. “She’s resting, my Lord. Here.” She held out her hand. “I’m no raven, but I can guarantee you Caitlyn will see this come morning.”

Vi’s shoulders fell with relief. She kissed the parchment before handing it to Mel. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Mel.” Mel corrected.

Vi frowned. “Mel from House Medarda of the Noxian Hills?”

“You’ve heard of my house?”

Vi offered a cheeky smile. “I may be a drunken pirate, but I’m an educated highborn bastard.”

Mel’s expression turned suspicious. “Of course. Good night, Lord Vi.”

Vi waved and bowed her head. “My lady,” still a well-mannered bastard as well. The woman stumbled once before a guard began following the lord down the halls back towards Vi’s assigned room. 

Mel waited until she didn’t hear them anymore and shut the door. She looked down at the parchment and scowled as she thought of Lord Jayce. Seeing all the cutesy drawings of flowers and a horribly drawn wolf. From a drunken rush. Mel smiled. “If he wanted to, he would. Caitlyn, you’re one lucky woman.”

Caitlyn was sitting up in bed, eyes still closed with fatigue. “Who was at the door?”

Mel answered by placing the folded parchment in Caitlyn’s hand. “One not lost on the Narrow Sea, my Princess.”

That caused Caitlyn to immediately wake up. She looked down at the parchment and smiled. “Violet,”

“Mhm,” Mel hummed, “Save it for the morning. A nice cup of tea and a new letter from your newly betrothed.”

Caitlyn was far too eager, resting in bed between her two closest friends while she read Vi’s letter. “I fall more in love with her everyday.”

Mel leaned over to kiss Caitlyn’s brow. “The kind of love every queen deserves.”

Lord Cregan was marching towards the outer gates with a few brave men. “Do we need our horses?”

“No.” One of them answered. “It’s not far.”

Cregan waited until they opened the iron gate and was met with a line of soldiers appearing tired and weak from their travels. Lord Cregan looked around at their fear-struck expressions. “Bear Island?” he asked.

“Deepwood Motte.” The same soldier answered. “They found something strange in the woods and brought it here.”

A large man, nearly twice Cregan’s size, stepped forward. “Where’s Lord Stark?” He demanded.

“You’re looking at him.” Cregan glared. “My father’s ill. He needs to be bedridden.”

The man smirked and shook his head. “Nah, your father hasn’t been ridden in bed since your brothers were born!” That got a few chuckles from the men surrounding them. “But I hear the real Lord is playing cocks with the princess of the south, eh?” 

None of this deterred Cregan. “Show me your spoils, Lord Glover.”

Lord Glover shook his head. “My brothers are too loyal to your father to realize what he did to your family line. But here,” He led Cregan towards a worn down wagon that was covered with leather tarps. “Since your sigil is a direwolf, and you’ve lot been keeping these damn things as pets we’d figure you’d want to see this.”

Cregan waited and frowned away his horror at the headless bodies of two direwolves. “Where were these found?”

Lord Glover glared at the young lord, “These parts? South of the wall near Last Hearth.”

Cregan slowly looked up. “These parts? What do you mean?”

A few men shuffled away, as those still reeling and dazed from whatever they saw in the north. 

Even Lord Glover’s snarky attitude dulled. “We’ve received a raven from Castle Black. Their heads are north of the wall. Some kind of ritual, my Lord?”

Cregan didn’t know what to do with that information. "I don't know."

“Well, you need to know, Lord Stark. You should send a few men to check it out.” Lord Glover pointed out for the young Stark.

Cregan walked back through the gates and grabbed a guard. “None of this reaches my father. You understand? But I need a raven sent to my sister. Now.”

Powder gasped as she woke up. “...ah!”

Bones was already alert, as though prepared for this. The wolf growled at the unseen thing in her master’s mind. A sinister warning the direwolf didn’t understand but recoiled at the scent of danger.

Powder was groggy, still weak to sit up on her own. “Bones,”

The direwolf obeyed. Gently leaning over the small human.

Powder gripped onto the fur to pull herself up. “...ice and fire—magic and sovereignty.” she slurred. “...flowers of the green lands. Where’s Vi?” She asked her direwolf.

Too soon and too lost to enter her wolf’s mind.

Powder fell onto the ground, crawling towards the side chair where Septa Mordane left a pile of warm clothing. The little lady was struggling to dress herself. She shivered even though the room was hot with fire.

Outside the walls of Winterfell, in the dead of the night, Bones was laying on the cold ground waiting for Powder to climb on top. The weakened Lady was snacking on trails of food left out for her. Powder climbed onto her large wolf. Hands gripping onto the coarse fur. Powder, still tired from her dreams, collapsed on top of her wolf. Bones, now larger than Nightwing, barely made a huff. She snarled at the shadows in the night, but did nothing to disturb the master that controlled her body.

Both of their eyes glowed white with old magic. Never left these lands.

“Take me to them.” Powder whispered.

Bones took off running.

Chapter Text

[ 6+ Years before the announcement of Winter]

[Lady’s Dream]

Powder stood off to the side of a tavern.

Somewhere off in the middle of the woods. Much farther than any ports would allow. The small village was in chaos from traitors, deceit, or just plain ole greed. Wildfires burning crops, cattle were being slaughtered, and men were being hung on trees as their wives and children watched them slowly die. But Powder wasn’t paying attention to that madness. She was watching her sister: Vi. Appearing just as she had when Powder last saw her sister. 

But Vi had blood dripping down her face, and she looked genuinely afraid; but she was determined to make it out alive. Vi punched a Lannister soldier before stabbing him in the throat. Vi ran towards a cart of screaming people. Trapped, would be burned alive if the young pirate hadn’t cut them loose. 

“Please, boy! Help us!”

Here. the voice called out to Powder. 

A three-eyed raven landed at Powder’s feet. But the Stark girl was watching a young looking woman scream at Vi. “Help us, mate!”

Vi looked afraid but she was determined to help these people. She yanked on the iron bars. “They won’t budge!”

The young looking woman pointed towards a fallen Lannister soldier. “Him! He carried the keys on him!”

Vi was frantic looking around. She heaved while pushing over the dead body, patting him down until she found his keys. “I found them!”

The woman reached out between the bars. “Give them to me! Hurry, boy!”

Vi ran back and handed the woman the keys. A nearby barrel full of whiskey exploded. Vi was thrown back from the force of the explosion. Debris impaled the woman’s hand while the crate quickly caught fire.

When Vi came to the woman was kneeling over her. Sighing in relief when she noticed the child wasn’t dead. She placed a hand on Vi’s shoulder. “The god of Death has plans for you.”

Vi groaned in pain while attempting to sit up. “Whaaaaa…” She looked around the desolate village, now burned to the ground. She could see Silco’s men searching under every body. Probably looking for Vi.

The woman placed a dagger in Vi’s hand. “Take this with you. You’ll need it more than I.”

Vi frowned. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “Some call me an Omen, the oma.” She slowly rose to her feet. “You can call me Akali if it suits you better.”

…

…

…

Powder’s body flinched as she woke up. 

All these dreams that felt too real. When will they ever end? From memories of her own, to things that never make sense. 

She felt nauseous.

Out of body and without form. 

It was still in the middle of the night, and even with her window wide open letting in the midnight cool air, Powder was sweating. Strange dreams that Powder would forget the moment her eyes opened. She quickly got out of bed and left the room. She ignored Nathar’s room this time. He always wants to “talk about it”. Try to be a Lord even as a brother when all Powder wanted was silence. Just to be listened to, even without words. 

The young Lady quietly opened the room that was on the opposite end of the hallway, near the handmaiden’s rooms. 

Her sister’s room.

They were close in a way that Powder couldn’t explain. Perhaps sisters have a different bond than brothers. Brothers try to take over situations while sisters simply exist alongside each other. Automatically equals, no matter the difference in ages. Ladies were still ladies. 

Vi was snoring facing the door. It’s a wonder how a young girl could be so lazy (avoid all her chores), yet rest as though she were a Lord ruling over Winterfell.

Powder shook Vi’s shoulder. “Violet,” She whispered. Voice quivering with an overflow of emotions the young child couldn’t place nor understand. “...please wake up. I had another bad dream.”

Vi didn’t even open her eyes, she just scooted over and threw back the blankets.”Com’ere, Pow.” She slurred.

Powder was already climbing onto the bed. She pressed herself against Vi’s back, seeking more comfort than anything. “Vi?”

“Sh,” Vi immediately hushed her. “We’ll talk mornin’.”

“Okay,” Powder tried to get comfortable on the smaller bed.

It was colder in the room, which is why Vi had a small fire burning in the far corner. Powder glared at it then squeezed her eyes closed when she saw a face in it.

Stop it!

[4 years before the announcement of Winter]

Powder was glaring at the direwolf laying on her bed while she was gathering her thoughts on what to put inside her letter to Vi. “Dreams,” she whispered.

Bones (short for Fishbones, the lady wolf’s favorite snack) was laying on Powder’s bed. Nearly full grown and taking up the entire space of the room. She was watching Powder. Like a pet waiting for a command. 

Powder dabbed the feather into the ink bowl and quickly wrote down her dream before she forgot. Her hand shook with every curve and lift of the pen. “...this is so stupid. Vi’s never going to believe me.”

The young girl got up and carefully approached Bones. Powder bent over to be on the same eye level as the large beast. A shaky breath escaped the girl. “Hey,” Powder said. “It’s me. Powder. Do you understand me?”

Bones never blinked or looked away, nor did it give off any behavior that it understood the Lady. 

Powder glared at her wolf. “Now you’re quiet? No ‘heir to the north’ and all that shit?” She quickly left her room with the direwolf following.

~~~

Nathar was helping the squires put away the practice swords when his sister came running towards him. 

“Hey!” Powder shouted her arrival.

The Stark Lord rolled his eyes. “What do you need now? You fed your pet every catch I had spared for myself and the men in my guard.”

Powder made a face. “Geez, a hello would be nice.”

“Hello, Powder.” Nathar grabbed a handful of swords and handed them to the squire. “I’m a bit busy. I’ll help you hunt boars later.”

“Ugh, no.” Powder followed him. “Boars head south this time of season you himbo.”

Nathar frowned, though he chuckled. “What did you call me?”

“Do you have dreams about your wolf?” Powder asked instead of answering. “Like real dreams?”

“Oh boy,” He mumbled, “Of course I dream of Winter,” his direwolf’s real name. “They’re our pets. We formed a sacred bond with them. We love them. Dreaming about them is natural.”

Powder walked with Nathar while they headed back towards the main part of the castle. “But, don’t you get it? Isn’t it a bit strange we can have this entire life as a direwolf while asleep and wake up like it’s completely normal?”

Nathar sighed the more he thought about it. “Okay. You’re right. It’s strange. Now what?”

“I mean even Vi has been having some of her own but Nightwing isn’t even with her!”

“Of course, you’d bring the bastard into this.” Nathar sounded annoyed.

Powder closed her mouth and glared at her brother. She thought of her next words carefully. “You know what? Let’s not talk about her. We’re two siblings chatting about our wolves and the dreams we shared with them.”

Nathar stopped by the front doors that led to the Great Hall. He smirked at Powder. “Go on, then.”

Powder looked proud of herself. “Have you ever had a dream where you’re in a strange place, and you have this strange feeling but you’re in your wolf’s body? So you run around pissing and shitting everywhere, hunting, and come back to Winterfell but when you wake up your direwolf’s in the same spot?”

Nathar crossed his arms and looked around them. “Yeah, all the time.”

Powder got an excited look and reached for her brother’s hand. “Nate, I think we’re wargs.” she whispered softly. 

Nathar frowned, not hearing. “What?”

Powder also looked around and said. “Wargs.” a little bit louder.

“Wargs?” Nathar asked in a normal and loud volume.

Several servants slowed to briefly glance at the two Starks.

Powder immediately hushed him. “Shh! It’s old magic from centuries ago. There haven’t been wargs in the Stark family line for generations. We could be it. Them. We can use this! Channel it for father and maybe even in the wars! We can help Vi!” The girl had clearly thought about it all thoroughly.

But Nathar, even though he believed his little sister, didn’t want to fan the fires of imagination to spread into an obsession. “Look, Powder, we can discuss this at a better time. I need to prepare and pack my things.” He looked cocky. “I’m moving to the Kiramman Castle. It’s about time though. I need to get on Caitlyn’s good grace’s.”

Powder nodded, “Oh, yeah me too.”

Nathar was not expecting to hear that. “You too—What?”

“I’m living with Princess Caitlyn. I already asked father. He said sure.”

Nathar sighed. “You asked him when he was drunk, didn’t you?”

Powder shrugged. “Benefitted me for once. See ya at the Kirammans!”

Powder ran off leaving Nathar to his strange thoughts about wargs—and potential annoying sisters being there to disrupt his chance to bed the Princess before their marriage. If not then there’s always—Nathar caught sight of a certain handmaiden and quickly approached her.

He tapped her shoulder before kissing her exposed neck. “Do you have a minute?” He whispered against her skin.

Roann was too busy trying not to smile. “I may even have 12 minutes, my Lord.”

“That’s all I need.” Nathar looked around and pulled Roann into a secluded part of the castle.

[Some time before the announcement of Winter]

“Heir to the north,” the voice whispered to Lady Powder.

Young Powder shook where she stood in the rain. But she didn’t feel the water. She was standing in front of a tavern on a certain harbor. She recognized this place. Maybe since she’s dreamed about it before. 

But this time the tavern door burst open and a man collapsed in the rain. “Stop! Please! I don't know anything!”

Powder has seen this dream before.

Vi followed the man. She looked older, blood smeared on her face and neck—but it wasn’t her own. Powder took a step back, hoping she wasn’t seen. 

Vi yanked the man by the collar of his shirt. “Give me the names! I know you worked for him! Give me the names!” She roughly shook the man.

She punched the man across his face, causing the man to groan in pain. 

Another person appeared at the door entrance. A woman?

“Who did…. sell me to!?” Vi’s scream echoed in the quietness of the night, while also being drowned by the rain. “Why did he do this to me!”

Powder frowned and stepped forward. “Vi?”

Vi began strangling the man when he wouldn’t talk. There was a crowd that stood back and watched as the Lord slowly took the man’s life. 

Powder ran forward to stop her sister. “Stop, Vi, this isn’t you.” Now only meters away. “Stop!” She screamed.

Vi flinched and looked in Powder’s direction; fear in her eyes. 

But something yanked Powder backwards and she fell onto a bed of snow. Somewhere off in the mountains. She could hardly see her hands in front of her. And she saw them . The others of the north that were, and shouldn’t be here. Skin as ice and eyes white with cold reached for Powder. 

“Bring her to us!” the voices cried out

Powder was horrified at what she saw. “No!”

…

…

…

“Vi!” Powder woke up screaming.

The young girl desperately reached for Bones, but she wasn’t there. Powder flailed around the large bed before falling off. “Ah!” Powder was crying in fear from her nightmares.

They were becoming more frequent, more alive… real. 

Powder crawled towards the door. She needed to leave, she needed to write Vi and make her come home from this stupid war! “Help me!”

This castle was huge, newer, had smoother walls, and the floors were warm to the touch. This wasn’t her home. Powder wasn’t in Winterfell. She held onto the walls in the dark, as though blind from the light the dying lanterns gave off. Powder sniffled and kept walking forward.

Until someone lit a much brighter lantern and held it up. “Lady Powder?” Princess Caitlyn was still in her nightgown, hair loose from the fancy braids. She looked worried. “Are you alright, Powder?”

“Caitlyn!” At the voice, Powder rushed towards the princess and grabbed Caitlyn in a tight hug. Trembling as she cried. “It–it—was horrible. It was horrible! I saw them! Don’t let them take Violet from me!”

Caitlyn held onto Powder with her free arm, frowning in concern. 

“Princess?” Mel and Elora were walking out of their own shared room, rubbing sleep out of their eyes. “Is Lady Powder alright? Has she received a raven?”

Caitlyn hushed. “Not now,”

Powder cried in Caitlyn’s nightgown. “Please don’t get the queen. I’m sorry.”

Caitlyn brushed the matted hair out of Powder’s face. “I won’t.”

Mel lights up her own lantern. “We won’t alert the queen.”

Elora was lighting up the rest of the lanterns in the small kitchen area they were in. 

A servants room tucked away from the main halls that led to the Great Hall. Powder was sitting at the only table in the room staring at the bowl of broth the girls had prepared her. Hoping to soothe her anxiety and fatigues. The little lady was only staring into the bowl, a grim expression never leaving Powder.

Caitlyn and Mel were standing off to the side watching her before Elora joined them. 

The princess leaned in close. “She’s seen things. She’s been seeing lots of things in her dreams.” her hushed tone carried the worry of an older sibling. “And she’s afraid to even speak of them.”

Mel was observing Powder in the same manner she would any suspicious Lord or new servant in the castle. “Well, you know those stories that Powder likes to read before she goes to bed, perhaps she just had a nightmare. All children have nightmares.” She points out, in a practical sense, Mel was right.

Elora nodded her agreement.

But Caitlyn wasn’t so sure. “I know Lady Powder. Even in Winterfell the young girl had a morbid curiosity about magic. Blood magic. Or the stories that Septa Mordane would tell her to go to sleep. Nothing scares Powder.” She looked at her two friends. “And you didn’t see the look on the girl’s face when I found her roaming the halls. Not just a nightmare, it was as though Powder lived it.”

Mel accepted that. “Well then Caitlyn, what do you think happened?”

Caitlyn looked over her shoulder at the girl in question. Powder was slowly sipping on the broth, finally relaxing, and behaving as though the older teens weren’t even in the kitchen with her. 

Caitlyn faced her friends, an odd look in her eyes. “Do you remember that story Lord Nathar shared with us? Before Vi left. It was the night after our ceremony about the—cold ones. The others.”

“The others?” Mel asked quietly. 

“Yes. The others. The army of cold gods, or something else they called them. I don’t remember.”

“I vaguely remember the strange story.” Mel crossed her arms. “Although, it wasn’t from Nathar’s lips. But a recount in one of the history books I read when I was Powder’s age. White Walkers?”

Caitlyn nodded. “I remember the book. I read about them as well.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out two crumpled pieces of parchments. “Do you remember what the text said?”

Mel slowly shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

Caitlyn slowly unraveled one. “This is from the text I took from the books. Powder has never read it unless the North has a similar book. And this is a drawing Powder threw away the other night. I think Powder might be a greenseer.”

“Greenseer? Those haven’t been around for centuries.” 

Caitlyn nodded. “It’s only speculation. Nothing to be certain of. But the girl—when Lady Powder told me of a dream she had… it sounded familiar. Like a history lesson Lady Maria used to teach me.”

Elora took the first one and opened it. “On this endless night, when a winter fell so cold, the others came. They were cold things, dead things, and many things.”

Caitlyn gave Mel Powder’s drawing and the lady quickly opened it.

“...the others came in snow and ice. Dreadful and undead.”

Mel looked at the vague drawing of a shadowy person with blue eyes instead white. 

“...and hated every creature with hot blood in its veins.” Elora frowned at the next text. “Even the King of Night feared its own, commanding them to whisper green into flowers.”

 Mel smiled at the drawing. “The Night King.” she whispered. “A fable, my Princess. He was never proven to be real.”

Caitlyn listened while she watched Powder finish her broth. She believed the young girl. “I’m not so sure. The northerners believe he was real. Just lived thousands of years ago.” 

Elora folded the parchment she was reading from. “There are whispers, among the servants, that a prophecy is being closely observed.”

“The priestesses.” Mel pointed out. “I have my birdies watching them.”

Caitlyn nodded. “But I heard they were here for my mother—as guides.”

Mel gently lowered the parchment and looked Caitlyn in the eye. “‘Only death can pay for life.’” she quoted. “Do you ever wonder how the queen (with a barren womb) managed to have only a daughter?”

She had many still-born daughters. Caitlyn thought to say.

Caitlyn wanted to be mad at Mel’s clear ill-intent inquiry. Instead, she heard her friend’s words. “I try not to think about it.”

[Present]

“... dear friend, across the rivers ,” Lady Maria, the red priestess, quietly sang in her native language. “ My hands are cold and bare. ”

She gently swayed with the bundle in her arms, carrying it to a rocking chair. The priestess sat in front of a large heart and continued to sing.

Even in the darkness of this depraved room, the handmaidens who were all huddled together, avoided looking in the priestess’s direction. All quietly praying, all craving to be elsewhere, though all willing to serve House Kiramman—no matter the cost. 

Loyalty, honor, and their maiden princess.

One handmaiden looked up, curiosity gripping her the hardest. It appeared “normal”. Normal in a sense that she’s seen darker magics with more gruesome outcomes. A hand reached out from the bundle. A shadow with elongated fingers. It held no corporeal form. As though the priestess held onto R’hollar’s will. Their Lord of Light. Lady Maria was aware of the movements, so she quickly began pulling back the layers.

She began whispering under her breath as the small hand held onto her own, before seeping through her fingers. Like smoke from a fire. 

It fell onto the floor and crawled away like a serpent. 

The handmaidens all flinched in surprise and fear, but the shadow paid them no mind. It disappeared into the castle walls. The red priestess prayed.

In the other room Lady Sun stood beside the queen.

They both stared down at the bed. Filled with horrors and death. The sheets were soiled with blood and… remnants. The handmaidens were quick to begin cleaning the mess that followed the ritual. But Cassandra stopped them. Needing to stay witness to the torment and misery she created. This was only the beginning of this path she created. 

Cassandra wasn’t breathing. Holding in her own despair and anger. She was absolutely livid. “You promised me,” each syllable spat with disgust. “You promised me she would be okay after this. I trusted you and you allowed this to happen to her.”

“Your Grace—,”

“I loved her as though she were my own!”

Lady Sun did her best to remain impassive towards the god awful sight before her. “Only death may pay for life, Your Grace.” 

“Fix this now!” Cassandra shouted. Enunciating every syllable with pure anger. Unbecoming of a ‘peaceful’ queen. “Or more death will come.”

Lady Sun nodded and bowed her head. She quietly left the room leaving the queen alone in the chaos.

Lady Sun nodded to Lady Maria, whispering the high Valyrian tongue to each other. Together they approached the side room. Not the one with the ghastly scene, but one that held the dead. They each stood on one side of the table and held out their hands over the corpse. 

They closed their eyes and began.

…

…

…

[Two years before the announcement of war - Kiramman Castle]

When Powder opened her eyes, it wasn’t with a scream or fear in her heart.

The young Lady simply rolled and grabbed the ink bowl and parchment. Something Princess Caitlyn had provided the lady after that one night. Powder began writing her dreams. But this time, instead of writing the actions in them, Powder detailed her emotions.

It was as though she were Vi and Nightwing.

Tasting the blood of men in her mouth. Powder licked her lips, remembering. 

She quickly got up to go about her day. Perhaps Bones was hungry. Wherever the guard left the direwolf this time.

Powder was used to seeing this every morning.

The princess in her practice attire and shooting arrows at various targets. Only this morning Lady Powder was escorted to the practice yards in a private court (much nicer than Winterfell’s) and she saw the Princess in hand-to-hand combat with a few boys. 

“Argh!” Caitlyn awkwardly sung the wooden blade down on the teen squire before kicking him down. All limbs and no structure to her strength.

By the looks of the princess, Caitlyn must’ve been out here most of the morning. Maybe even before the sun rose. The squire was younger and thin in built, but he still gave the princess a good practice “dummy”. But the boy was holding back. He swung the sword around with a second nature mannerism. Something he didn’t have to think about. While Caitlyn was whispering under her breath, overly calculated movements that were rigid and easy to assume.

Caitlyn swung high and the squire easily dodged it.

Powder leaned against the post and watched. 

The princess had clearly been sneaking out here learning how to fight, just as her mother. No Lord Commander was out here, or any other guards. Just Lady Mel and Elora and a few young squires who were hoping to become knights.

“Good morning, my Lady.” One teen announced Powder's arrival.

The others all nodded. 

Powder just waved appropriately and ignored them for the rest. 

She wished Vi was here. Living with her and the Princess. Powder wondered if Caitlyn had gotten a reply from her sister. She knows how close they’ve gotten. Disgustingly obvious. But the more Powder hung around Nathar, the more she realized what an absolute cunt her brother was. It was strange. Powder doesn’t remember Nathar being a prick. He was always the kind brother. The one to listen to Powder’s outlandish stories and even create his own. But these past few years… he’s been so unbearable to be around. 

If only Vi struck him harder when they “practiced” their sword fighting.

Caitlyn was struck hard in the middle, “ah!” causing the Princess to fall. 

“Princess!” The squire dropped his sword and rushed to help.

But Caitlyn pushed his hands away and got up on her own. “That’s all for today.”

Powder loved watching this part. 

There was no word to describe it, but Caitlyn fell into it effortlessly. The princess was removing her practice armor while approaching Lady Mel and Elora. Caitlyn dusted off her uniform and held out her arm for the Lady to hold onto. 

One doesn’t usually see a Princess taking on a… masculine role; even around friends. But Powder found it beautiful. It made her rethink her future husband, if he’ll allow Powder to treat him like a Princess.

Caitlyn lit up when she saw Powder and they all headed her way. “Lady Powder, you’re awake early.”

Powder shrugged. “It’s morning.”

Caitlyn smiled and held out her other arm. “May I?”

Powder frowned and held onto it. “Princess?”

There was a twinkle in Caitlyn’s eyes. “Would you like to join me in releasing some inner rage?”

Powder slowly blinked. “...yes?”

Once Powder had the bow in her hands, she wasn’t so sure about this.

The girl tugged on the string, feeling overwhelmed with the tension. “You know, Princess, I’m more of a sit and write out my feelings type of girl.”

Caitlyn was finishing up tightening the straps of a much smaller arm guard before standing in front of Powder. “I’m sure you are, Lady Powder.” She grabbed the bow from Powder’s hands and let it drop to the ground. Caitlyn pushed up Powder’s sleeves and slipped on the armguard. She pulled the straps firm. “How does that feel?”

Powder wiggled her fingers. “It’s tight.”

“Good.” Caitlyn’s response was short. Her kind smile betrayed her emotions.

Powder knew something was wrong, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. Caitlyn handed Powder a much longer bow. Wider neck with a comfortable hand grip. “Is this one yours, Princess?”

Caitlyn flipped her long braid over her shoulder and nodded. “My practice bow I used when I was little. About your age.”

Powder liked the sound of that. “Excellent. My skills are worth the amount of royal weapons.”

The princess giggled softly. “I’m sure they are, my Lady. Are you ready to kill some dummies?”

Powder looked behind at the squires lined up. Mel and Elora had left once it had gotten too warm outside. “I am.”

Caitlyn stood behind Powder, gently moving the girl’s foot with her boot. Then the princess placed her hands on Powder's waist, angling the Stark girl accordingly. “Relax your shoulders and lift the bow. Let me see how you hold it. Good. Now, pull the string until you can’t and slowly bring it back.”

Powder did as she was told. She could barely create tension before her shoulders were burning and her entire right arm was shaking. “This is a hard one.”

“I know. You’ll build the strength for it eventually. Remember, pull with your body. Use these muscles.” Caitlyn’s hand pressed against certain parts on Powder’s back. “Your back can handle it. If you use just your arm, you’ll tire much quicker. Do it again then I’ll give you an arrow to shoot.” The princess stepped away, giving Powder some room to pull it properly.

Powder rolled her shoulders and tried it again. Hoping to feel the tension in her back and not in her arm. “This feels much better.”

“Good, Lady Powder.” Caitlyn shuffled behind her. “Have you heard back from your sister?”

The question wasn’t all that surprising to Powder, but the tone is which it was asked, was. The princess sounded pissed and hurt at the same time. Powder held her breath and thought about it. “No,” she answered. Then pulled the string once again before letting it go.

That seemed to anger the Princess even more. “Damn you, beautiful bastard.” was whispered under her breath. “One confession short of silence.”

But Powder was literally right in front of Caitlyn. The younger sister scowled at no one in particular. “To be fair, Princess, Vi hasn’t written to anyone in months.”

Caitlyn got awfully quiet hearing that. Choosing to silently give Powder an arrow to shoot. 

After several failed attempts, the Princess finally spoke up. Clearly still lost to her thoughts but using this “practice” as a distraction. Powder and Caitlyn were now standing side by side shooting arrows.

Powder never thought she’d enjoy using a distance weapon. But it sure was fun once she got the hang of it. “I like this!” 

Caitlyn smiled brightly. “Aim with your entire upper body. Here.” Caitlyn got behind Powder once tapping her waist. “Pivot here and feel how much better that is. Keep your feet sturdy. Focus on the targets at the far end. See? Even the slightest change of angle can equal dozens of meters apart per target.”

Powder followed the angle. “I see it.”

“The farther the targets, the wider the range.”

Powder was a quick student. Sharp attention she applied so effortlessly. 

Caitlyn was proud of her. “Very good, my Lady.”

It was possibly after an hour when Caitlyn felt comfortable enough to stand a little ways to the side and shoot her own arrows. Powder didn’t mind it. The strange topic of conversation? She did mind.

“We’ve been writing to each other for years, and I truly feel as though I know Violet. Better than anyone.”

Powder hardly hid her groan. “Just marry her then. Geez, you’re going to be a queen. Make your own laws.”

Caitlyn blushed bright red. “I hardly think marriage with a bastard is considered a wise decision for someone of my status.” she toyed with the bow in her hand. “...but I would love to.” the princess quietly confessed.

Powder shrugged. “Once again, Princess. Queen’s written law and all that. I’m sure you can make up anything, within the correct limitations of course, and bam—new law!” She aimed the bow with much more confidence. “Let’s change it so I can be Warden of Winterfell while you’re at it.”

Caitlyn laughed softly. “Perhaps once I marry your brother, I’ll be able to do just that.” The princess lowered the bow, letting the arrow drop to the ground. “Do you suppose I should continue reaching out to Vi? Even if she hasn’t responded.”

“Sure.”

“It wouldn’t be weird?”

Powder shrugged. “You’re close friends. Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know. But,” Caitlyn was toying with the bow in her hands. Using it to distract herself for a moment. “...you’re going to be my sister in a few years. Your opinion matters to me.”

Powder sighed and chose to also lower her bow. She looked at the Princess who was watching the lady very carefully. Powder never had someone of such important stature await her thoughts on anything. “Look, Caitlyn,”

Caitlyn never corrected the lady. Instead, she chose to enjoy the simpler title and not be reminded of her importance.

“...you’re very pretty and super nice to your servants. There really isn’t a reason Vi would ignore you. Something may have happened. Vi could be busy trying to survive a war and all. I’m also trying to write to my sister. Letters come and go from Winterfell. But, even when I try to talk to my uncle—I don’t hear back at all.” Powder looked afraid at a thought. “Do you think Vi’s in trouble? That they all are?”

Powder thought of her dream, but surely… It was only a dream.

Caitlyn understood wars and the risks of soldiers leaving their homesteads, never to return. She blinked away her fears. “If something were to happen to your uncle’s fleets, I’m sure all of Westeros would hear by now. You’re right. Vi must be busy.” She nodded to the bow in Powder’s hands. “Well then, how do you feel now, Powder? How do you feel with the bow?”

Powder tried to smile, but couldn’t even fake it. “I’m ready for war, Your Grace,”

Caitlyn shared the sullen sentiment though the princess expressed her emotions with much more dignity. “Onward, Lord Commander Powder.”

[Present]

‘Forgive me, my Princess, words are hard with a belly full of wine. But I love your hair and the flowers in it. I love your face. It's very pretty to stare at. And I love you.

—Lord Vi’

“Stop moving.” Lady Ariana quietly admonished Vi. 

Lady Stark made herself at home in Kiramman's castle, as well as making sure her step daughter was dressed and behaving accordingly. “All that wine only thins the blood.”

Vi shoved a balled up cloth into her mouth as the handmaidens cleaned her stab wound and redid the sutures. She squeezed her eyes shut. Ow!

One of the older handmaidens nodded while standing. “All cleaned up. No more running around the castle or jumping off high walls to impress the princess. Your very life is already impressive, my Lord.”

Or drunkenly racing other highborn Lords towards the Princess’s room to hand Caitlyn a poorly written letter. Vi nodded. “Thank you,”

They turned towards Lady Stark and bowed their heads before leaving, “Lady Stark.” 

Lady Ariana rose from the sofa in Vi’s room. She looked around the room. “Nice room. They didn’t have Nathar stay in this one when he lived here. It’s a bit small for a Lord, don’t you think?”

Vi slowly tied her tunic closed. “I wouldn’t know, my Lady.” She was still cautious around Lady Stark, not truly or fully understanding the lady’s intentions in accompanying Vi. “Any word from Cree or father?”

“None from Cregan,” Lady Ariana shook her head and stood in front of Vi, “And your father is still dying and choosing to drown himself away. Does it bother you that you’re not with him and that I’m here instead?”

Vi looked away, “Yes,”

The bastard nearly flinched from internalized childhood trauma when Lady Stark reached up to fix Vi’s hair. A gentle and caring hand of a mother. Vi nearly forgot what it was like to have one. Vi cared for herself and her young mother back in the capital and here Lady Ariana’s steel gaze kept the bastard in her place. 

“You look like him. I’ve always hated your face.” Lady Ariana whispered. “How much you look like my Bran and still not be mine. But look at you; gorgeous face all grown up. A Lord of Winterfell.”

It was strange hearing the softness of a cold hearted woman. But Vi said nothing.

“Bran was his favorite.” 

Vander’s favorite.

“And Nathar was mine.”

From all the abuse and verbal humiliations from Nathar and his mother, they both grew soft around Vi—only for the fact that she reminded them of Bran.

Lady Ariana cupped Vi’s face before pulling away. “Parents aren’t supposed to have their favorites. Powder would be my next best. But what’s a daughter to me when I may lose her as well?”

Vi was reverted back to being 14 and scolded by Lady Stark. But she wasn’t about to let her brother be looked over. “Cregan’s a brave man, Lady Stark. He holds Winterfell and the armies that followed me north. He’s a good son to you. He’s done father proud.”

The woman smirked. “I know what sickness befell my third-born son. He would rather take it up the ass than give me a grandchild.”

Ah… yes, there was the woman Vi knew all too well. Perhaps the grief-stricken mother only had moments to spare of being “soft” and “vulnerable”.

But Vi had a higher status than Lady Ariana now. And Vi didn’t appreciate the way the woman spoke about her children. A typical player of the game and the Stark children were only pieces on the War Table. “You can leave, Lady Stark, if you have nothing else to say to me.”

“Lords and their titles.” Lady Ariana had no choice but to obey Vi’s wishes. “I’ll be sure to send in the handmaiden to help you dress. Perhaps she can loosen you up for the day.”

“I don’t need a handmaiden—” Vi was about to protest, but the woman was quick to leave the room. “Shit,”

She quickly grabbed the fancy doublet from the bed and winced as she tried to pull it on. 

The bedroom door opened and the handmaiden walked. “Those don’t look like your colors, my Lord.”

Vi froze and let the stiff material fall to the floor. She quickly turned and smiled brightly at the voice, all too recognizable, even after all these years. “Roann,”

The young woman was grinning, holding a much more elegant doublet. Shaped specifically with Vi’s feminine size in mind. Roann lifted it. “Here. So you’ll match your soon-to-be-bride—oh!”

Vi had crossed the room and pulled Roann into a tight hug. “It’s been too long!”

Even though the bastard only saw a glimpse of the lady two years prior when Roann was sneaking into Nathar’s tent—the two haven’t spoken since Nathar and Caitlyn’s betrothal ceremony. They were never close, but as they were both highborn bastards, there was a sense of slight familial bond between them.

Roann gasped in surprise, though she relaxed, allowing Vi to hug her. 

But she never hugged Vi in return.

Vi noticed and slowly pulled away. There she could see the paleness to Roann’s complexion. “You live in the south yet your skin reflects the north.” she tried to joke. “Why are you so pale?”

Roann cleared her throat and awkwardly stepped away. “Forgive me, Lord Vi, I am recovering from an illness.” She held up the doublet. “May I?”

Vi nodded.

“The tunic needs to come off first.”

Vi only hesitated for a moment before turning around and pulled off her tunic. Roann barely bat an eye and helped Vi pull on the slim fitting doublet. 

“You’re serving for House Kiramman now?” Vi asked once she felt clothed enough to turn around. “Do you enjoy it here?”

“I do,” Roann was tightening the buttons and other hidden ties. “It’s much quieter here without Septa Mordane shouting repeated commands in her old age. I’m given weekly or daily instructions and I follow them. I do as I please afterwards, which is tidying up after the Princess, or remain in the kitchens during festivities.” Roann smiled through the short explanation. “I do enjoy it here. I suppose I accepted Princess Caitlyn’s invitation after all these years.” she whispered the last part under her breath.

Vi liked the sound of that. “I’m glad. But, how did you end up here? And not with,” Nathar… but he’s dead.

“Her Grace bought me.”

Vi frowned and tried to look Roann in the eyes. “Bought you? I hardly thought Vander would hold you so tightly to House Stark.”

“He didn’t.” Roann whispered. “I was a whore.”

“You were a handmaiden—”

“I was a whore.” Roann stated firmly, “...my Lord.”

Vi looked over the handmaiden. “Someone knew about you and Nathar, huh?”

If Roann was surprised Vi knew about her affairs with the fallen Prince, she never let on. Instead she shrugged it off. “I was caught and sold to a Babette. Humiliated in front of all the Starks and their men. And the people of the castle as I walked out with only a blanket to shield my modesty.”

Hearing that bothered Vi. “Lady Stark.”

Roann hummed. “Indeed, the Lady made a decision. Have me hanged or have me sold into a life of whoredom.”

The bastard hated those words, but she wasn’t at all surprised what Lady Stark was capable of. The Bolton's truly were a ruthless house. “I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I was there to help.”

Roann mulled it over. “I’m glad you weren’t.”

Vi frowned.

“I didn’t mind leaving them all. It would’ve been more people I left behind. An old life that never went away. I realized I would always be an outsider. But there was one person who I truly missed and will never stop loving.”

Vi held Roann's gaze, scared for the handmaiden and the Lord who used her. 

“...and that was Lady Powder, not Nathar. I see the look you’re giving me.” Roann’s lips quivered. “My Lady who I saw as a sister. She treated me kindly yet the look she gave me when I escorted out of Winterfell,” The handmaiden stepped away from the young lord. “Something I’ll take to my grave.”

Vi felt awkward, not understanding what Roann had gone through. All alone. With literally no one at her side. Instead, she silently crossed the room to the door and held it open. “Walk with me?”

Roann rolled her eyes. “I don’t want your pity or your friendship, Violet. I’ve met great people here. Even Lady Mel and Elora treat me as a… as a person. I love it here. I’m finally home.”

Vi smiled. “As far as I can tell, you don’t need my pity. You seem very happy here.”

Roann hesitated, a dark expression in her eyes before it disappeared. “I am happy here. I have a purpose here.”

They walked out of Vi’s room together. Roann, still a handmaiden, kept her distance. 

Vi was talking to the handmaiden about the different Lord’s she met the previous night when Roann’s eyes widened  at something behind the Lord and she stepped further away from Vi.

Vi frowned and looked behind her.

Princess Caitlyn stood at the far end of the hall next to Lady Mel and her own handmaiden, Elora. Caitlyn and Roann seemed to have both been stuck in a silent stare.

Vi frowned and faced Roann. “Everything all right?”

Roann blinked and briefly looked in Vi’s direction. “Everything is perfectly fine, my Lord.”

“What was that just now? Do you not like the Princess?”

At those words Roann appeared thoroughly offended. “How can you ask me that? Absolutely, I do!” She hissed in a hushed tone. “I love the Princess and I owe her my life after—” Roann shook her head, remembering where she was and bowed her head. “She’s a gentle soul, Lord Vi. Take care of her. Take care of her in ways I know Nathar never could.”

Vi watched Roann walk away. When the Lord looked back to where Caitlyn was, the Princess was gone. Probably already headed to her room to get ready for the ceremony. 

Vi smiled to herself and let out a squeal. “I’m getting married!”

The first betrothal ceremony Vi’s been to, she was glad it wasn’t a wedding. But now, for her own, she wished it was.

Powerful elegance were words not perfect enough to describe Caitlyn. And they weren’t getting married just yet! They walked up together in front of all the witnesses while they prayed to Caitlyn's gods to bless their future wedding. Vi should’ve paid more attention when Nathar was doing this. Or rehearsed the brief run-down the handmaidens kept telling her over and over again.

Because when they stood in front of the priest, Vi leaned over to kiss Caitlyn’s cheek. It was a gentle and short kiss, but when the princess’s eyes widened in surprise, Vi knew she may have made a mistake. 

Caitlyn’s face was bright red. “That’s reserved for the wedding ceremony.” she whispered under her breath. Only loud enough for Vi to hear. “The queen’s watching.”

Vi winked. “Sorry. You look beautiful.”

Caitlyn squeezed Vi’s hand and leaned in as though to kiss the bastard-born bride. The priest loudly cleared his throat causing Vi and Caitlyn to jump. Caitlyn knelt down and tugged Vi along. The bastard looked over her shoulder and smiled apologetically to the queen. But Cassandra was smirking while Tobias winked. 

Caitlyn had not chosen to dance, excusing herself from noblemen offering their arms to a dance. Vi didn’t mind, but these fancy boots she was wearing weren’t designed to tear up the dance floors. 

Vi had found herself chatting with Mel and other highborn ladies at the wine table. 

Mel leaned in closer. “And that over there is Lady Camille with her last born daughter; Seraphine of House Reyne.”

Vi nodded, listening to everything. “Reyne? Reyne of Castamere? Aren’t they loyal to the Lannisters?”

Mel arched her brow, “Educated bastard, indeed you are. A musical house and nothing more. The Lannisters may have lots of gold, but House Kiramman has more.”

Vi knew that, but it still felt strange having a noble house here whose servants and spies were all killed by Vi’ s hand. The images of hanging bodies, as though they were boars ready to be slaughtered, was still fresh in the young Lord’s mind. 

Mel continued introducing Vi to other great houses. 

“I appreciate you helping me with all these faces I’ll probably forget tomorrow morning.”

Mel allowed herself to laugh. “Our house has served the Kirammans for generations. I’ll be on Queen Caitlyn’s council where I’ll be serving you as well, Lord Vi.”

“Gods,” Vi mumbled before taking a huge gulp of wine. “That’s—I’m still getting used to it. Just months ago I was scraping the bottom of barrels for gold, doing unspeakable things to traitors, and now—I’m going to marry a Princess.”

“That’s quite the fairytale you’re living.”

“It is.”

“Hey,” A man recognized from earlier walked up behind Mel, giving her hip a slight squeeze. “Am I interrupting?” he discretely kissed her neck.

Mel remained almost indifferent to the lord’s open affection. “Only introducing Caitlyn’s betrothed to Kiramman’s bannermen and other great houses that bent the knee.”

“Lord Vi.” The tall man held out his hand towards the new northman lord. “Lord Jayce of House Talis.”

Vi shook his hand, “Never heard of your house before.” She mumbled aloud, not realizing what she said.

Her attention was on the many ladies and lords in the newly decorated Great Hall. Keep sights on her betrothed. It was like this all morning. The day after Vi’s arrival, Princess Caitlyn disappeared into her room and never tried to make arrangements to speak with Vi, reach out to her, or even be in the vicinity of the lord. Now they at least, got some glimpses of one another. Perhaps Vi shouldn’t have kissed Caitlyn in front of everyone. She just missed the Princess. 

Jayce laughed awkwardly. “I’m Jayce.” he repeated. “We sampled some wines together the other night.”

Vi remembered every minute of that night. Especially when Caitlyn had kissed her. The bastard wanted the princess to do it again. “Your family are House Kiramman’s stewards, right?”

Mel wore a proud look while Jayce frowned. “Yeah. I mean we used to be until we declared citizenship further south. Became the Wardens of the South. But, I was actually hoping to get you alone about something.”

Vi sighed, preparing for a boring conversation. 

Somewhere across the Great Hall was Princess Caitlyn not-so-discreetly watching Vi. 

But she wasn’t the only one observing the bastard. 

Bright hazel eyes slowly looked around the Great Hall. Most of her face was cloaked and hidden in the shadows. But that didn’t last very long. She smiled once she saw the bulky Talis lord leave Vi for just a moment. The seas were open, so she made her move. The woman swiftly removed her cloak, revealing silver hair, and a deep red gown specifically made for this gathering. She marched her way towards the bastard. Never once slowing down even if people tried to get her attention or reach for her attention. 

Not tonight. She thought. 

Vi was sipping her wine when she noticed the woman beelining towards her. She frowned but waited. 

“Lord Violet of House Stark.” The woman smiled once she stood in front of Vi. “Quite the reputation you have around here. Lords and ladies alike, desperate, for your attention.”

The bastard cleared her throat and bowed. “Hello, my Lady,”

The woman held out her hand. Her fingertips were covered in strange claw-like jewelry. “Lady Evelynn, my Lord.”

Vi looked at the hand. “Forgive me, my lady, I’m not great with names. Which house are you from?” Vi took the lady’s hand and was lowering her head to kiss Evelynn’s hand when she felt a sharp stabbing prick on her palm. “Ow! The fuck—I mean, shit—sorry.” Vi shook her hand before looking down at it. 

“Oh my, are you okay?” Evelyn feigned concern. “Forgive me, my Lord. I’m not used to them.”

Vi frowned when she saw three puncture wounds. Shallow, but they were still there. She noticed Lady Evelynn’s jewelry and scowled. “Expensive to hide weapons as nails.”

“I am so very sorry.” She didn’t sound apologetic at all. “And these things? They’re gifts from my mother. A demon they called her.”

Vi pressed her palm against her doublet and frowned. “You’re not a red priestess.”

The woman shook her head. “Oh no. My specialties are much more specific than staring into a pit of fire and hoping for the best. Like,” Evelynn just brought one of the claws to her mouth and sucked off the blood. “There’s power in a king’s blood, my lord. And yours is...” she trailed off, as though hearing someone else speak to her. 

A dark nearly fearful expression came over the woman before Evelynn blinked it off. Reverting to her arrogant and sultry self. “Your bloodline is broken, my Lord.”

Vi didn’t even notice what Evelynn had done. “Sure, okay.”

Evelynn appeared curious; seeing very interesting images in her head. “Yet, it’s not. Are you pregnant?”

Vi scowled. “I sure the fuck hope not.”

Evelynn held out her hand again. “May I?”

“No, thanks.” The bastard shook her head, now looking around for anyone to flag down. 

Evelynn looked distraught, but she licked the other claw jewel and hummed. Her attention snapped towards the opposite side of the room. Where Caitlyn was glaring at Evelynn. The strange woman observed the princess, taking a step closer as though see ing something attached to her. “Interesting, indeed.” The woman winked and waved before bowing in Caitlyn’s direction—almost mockingly.

Vi noticed and tried to see who Evelynn was interacting with. “Was there something you needed of me, my Lady?”

Evelynn sucked her tongue and smirked. “Nothing that I haven’t already gotten, my Lord.” she reached for a cup of wine while purposely getting in Vi’s personal space. 

But the lord was too devoted to another and quickly stepped away. 

Evelynn arched her brow. “You’re very beautiful.”

Vi said nothing. Instead, she looked at her hand. “Have a good evening, my lady. I gotta get this cleaned up.”

Mel was off to the side, watching the bastard quickly exit the Great Hall. “Could you have been any more fucking obvious? All that gold pays for nothing apparently.”

Evelynn was pulling on her cloak while sipping her wine. “I got what you wanted, and made it look like I was whore waiting to ride her invisible cock.”

Mel was fuming, though she kept herself together far better than Evelynn. “Give me answers quickly before I cut out your tongue myself.”

“ Tsk, so testy are you.” Evelynn finished the wine in a single gulp and handed Mel her empty cup. “The blood magic wasn’t done on the bastard. Whatever you think happened in this castle didn’t concern Lord Stark’s daughter.”

“Are you certain?” Mel’s tone betrayed her poorly hidden concern. She looked at Evelynn. “For the princess’s sake. Forget the honor of House Kiramman, are you sure nothing happened? I swear I felt something. Heard whispers about certain dark magics.”

“Nothing was done to the bastard.” Evelynn grew serious at the tone. She removed all three of her clawed jewelry and handed them to Mel. “Perhaps the great wise Medarda misread the prophecy. If you want a second opinion, don’t bother me again. The Lord’s blood is pure. Unlike yours.”

Mel let her leave while she glared into the empty wine cup. “I hate dead ends.” 

It was time for their walk, or their time together.

Vi had never been so excited about a leisure walk in the gardens. But as Caitlyn held onto Vi’s arm, the princess led the Lord past the gardens and out the side gates towards the common areas. They headed towards the villages that reside on the outskirts of the castle.  Vi had never seen this side of the plains before. The endless lands of crops and cattle. The Great Plains of Piltover were truly a magnificent sight for an outsider. 

One who only had mud and dark gray tones of a castle so old even the slightest winds threaten its destruction. 

Vi could see all the homes on the surrounding hills. Like a floral design and the castle was the bud inside. “Not feeling the gardens today, princess?”

Caitlyn tightened her grip and looked behind them, not surprised to see dozens of the queensguard trailing after them. Lord Commander Grayson took up the rear. She looked up at Vi. “Forgive me for wanting to separate you from your brothers. I love the gardens, truly, but I need to share different parts of myself with you. Parts that your brothers have never seen before.”

The bastard was overwhelmed how these simple words ignited a spark in her heart. Illuminating the dark corners that war had covered. Vi felt her chest puff with a pride she’s never felt before. “I’m honored, princess.”

Caitlyn smiled at her charming escort. “There’s something I want you to see,”

The excited look in the bastard’s eyes inspired a yearning within the princess. 

“Show me your world, Caitlyn,”

Caitlyn pulled away from Vi and ran down the dirt roads towards the first stalls of a bustling marketplace. Vi didn’t hesitate to make chase.

From spice bazaars to bakeries, a linen shop and even a place that shaved men's beards, Vi wasn’t estranged from this sort of setting. But what set it apart was the way Cailtyn was viewed. 

Obviously Winterfell loves the Starks, and King’s Landing feared the Targaryen’s more than they loved them, but here the princess roamed about the common folk. Some politely bowed their heads, others offered Caitlyn some treats to bring back with her to the castle. She always paid them. Spoke with them, engaged with them like long lost friends.

Vi smiled as she watched the Princess with her people. 

Did Caitlyn know how these people watched her?

Does the princess understand how quickly they would gladly go to war for their future queen?

Caitlyn returned to Vi and placed a flower in her hair before kissing her briefly. Vi swooned where she stood.

Undoubtedly the princess knew and did her best by her people. 

They were now in a much more secluded area in the backside of the gardens. There was a small body of water surrounded by willows and all sorts of trees. The small breeze allowed the leaves to sing for the women. 

Vi was trying to skip rocks while Caitlyn balanced on a log that slightly hovered over the pond. 

“Nightwing you called her?” Caitlyn asked, arm spread out to balance herself.

Tucked away from leering eyes allowed the ladies to rekindle what they created when Vi was out at sea. Laughing at their earlier letters, blushing at the newer ones and their confessions, and now getting to know one another as adults. No longer children with bright eyes of innocence. Both have seen the dark corners of humanity.

Both is much different ways,

All of it changed Caitlyn and Vi forever.

Vi found a flatter pebble and tried her hand at this one. “Yeah, Nightwing. That’s my direwolf’s name.”

Caitlyn looked up, “Will you bring her here?”

Vi shrugged. “She’s wild. I’m hardly connected to her anymore.”

The princess knew what Vi meant. “Your dreams. Like what Lady Powder has?”

At the mention of her sister, Vi’s countenance softened. “Not to that extent, but similar. Powder and Nathar were the wolf dreamers.”

“Greenseer?” Caitlyn offered.

Vi frowned, she knew the name, but she shouldn’t be surprised an intelligent princess would know about her conscripts. “Yeah, that.”

Caitlyn noticed Vi’s demur reaction. “My apologies, we can speak about other things.”

Vi shook her head and threw the pebble; grinning when it skipped more than 4 times. “We can talk about her. I heard she stayed with you for a few years. She’s quite the handful, huh?”

“I don’t know about that. Powder’s sharp mind allowed us to have very intuitive discussions.”

“Really? About what?”

Caitlyn nearly fell over. “I, uh—um. Hm,” She blushed and avoided looking in Vi’s direction. “I suppose we spoke about personal matters.”

Vi smirked to herself. “I see. I’m glad you both had each other.” She straightened her posture and slowly walked around the pond. Stepping on the low tree branch that Caitlyn was standing on. “Speaking of—being there for each other. You and Roann,”

Caitlyn perked up at the name, though her smile quickly vanished. “What about the handmaiden?” Carefully composed and neutral. 

Guarded.

Vi found this interesting, but didn’t press further. “She’s fond of you. That’s all. I think that’s neat. She's comfortable here.”

Caitlyn visibly relaxed, which only inspired more questions for the bastard. “What are you doing?” the princess asked, expertly changing the subject and watching Vi slowly approach. “Your balance is horrendous. How did you not ever manage to fall overboard?”

Vi winced when she almost lost her balance. “There is a secret that I’ll share with you. Once I get there.”

Caitlyn was highly amused, slowly stepping backwards to prepare herself. “I can hardly wait.”

Vi flapped her arms like a bird at one point almost falling once again. “Shit!”

The princess’s angelic laughter only spurred her on. 

Caitlyn patiently waited until Vi inched her way towards the princess.

They stood toe-to-toe, Vi looking down at Caitlyn. Memorizing her so up close. Without any near to interrupt. “Caitlyn,” She whispered, slowly leaning down.

Caitlyn’s heartbeat quickened and her lips parted in excited hopefulness. “Violet,” Perhaps kissing will be a better way to regain their closeness.

Vi brushed her nose against Caitlyn's cheek. “I did fall overboard,” 

The bastard meant to kiss the princess, but she lost her footing, causing them both to fall into the pond.

Lord Commander Grayson was standing by the smaller iron gate which led to the secluded pond. They sighed when two giggling and soaking wet highborns ran past. 

“Sorry, my lord!”

“We gotta change!”

Grayson allowed themselves to smile. Although it looked more like a grimace. “Of course, they went swimming.”

The amount of apologies worried Caitlyn, but they both kept smiling and laughing through it all, she assumed Vi was alright with swimming.

They even ran past a surprise Mel and Roann. 

The handmaiden hesitated. “I should help them. They’re soaking up the floors!”

Mel stopped her, smirking. “I believe they can handle themselves for now.”

Roann nodded. “Is that allowed?”

Mel laughed. “They’re going to be married, my dear. They can do whatever they want.”

Vi carefully removed her doublet that was soaked with pond water. She leaned over the balcony and roughly shook out most of the water. She couldn’t fight off the smile that was permeated on her lips. Caitlyn was watching her while she undressed. It was a beautiful and carefree sight. 

The bastard appeared more comfortable around the castle. “Damn.” She hung the piece of clothing over the railing and kicked off her shoes, choosing to leave them outside. “Princess?”

“Almost finished!” Caitlyn was standing in an exposed corset while handmaidens helped the princess out of her heavy dress.

“Step out, my princess,” one commanded. 

Caitlyn held onto the woman’s shoulders while she did so.

In her peripheral, Caitlyn could see Vi had stopped  at the doorway; hesitant to reenter the princess’s room. 

Caitlyn looked up. “Come here. They’re nearly finished with me.”

Vi carefully walked back into Caitlyn’s room, waiting to be told to also remove her wet clothes. She swallowed thickly. Hands roaming her sleeves. Picking at the parts that were darker underneath the pale tunic. Exposed inks. Caitlyn carefully looked away, hoping to not reveal a cautious detail to her handmaidens.

Once the princess was out of her dress, she politely waved off the handmaidens. Saying she’ll take it from there. Being more than polite, the women hardly paid Vi any attention and quickly left the room. 

Once they were alone Caitlyn sent Vi a smile. “Couldn’t wait to get me out of my clothes?”

She could tell Vi was more relaxed once the handmaidens left the room. Less eyes as the bastard began removing heavier belts and attachments to her pants and doublet that was already removed. 

“Couldn’t wait to get you wet,” Vi responded, a crooked grin in place.

“Violet!” The princess blushed at those words. 

Vi began untying her tunic, hesitant in her movement, but she continued for the sake of appearing nonchalant.

Caitlyn knew what was wrong for staring and reached for her set of dry clothes. “I’ll leave you to it, unless you need help?”

Vi didn’t answer, just grunting her response while she struggled to lift the loose and weighted garment.

Caitlyn found it charming but solely wanted to help when she reached for Vi’s wet tunic. “Here, let me help you take this off.”

But Vi flinched away. “No!”

Caitlyn’s quiet gasp in surprise spooked the bastard even more. 

The lord hurried to the other side of the room. Vi crossed her arms over her chest and faced away from the princess. Her shoulders quickly rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

The princess stayed still, afraid to speak. Caitlyn had worried she crossed a boundary—never to be mended again. She should’ve known this about Vi. The bastard had never been vulnerable—naked around anyone. And while Caitlyn wanted nothing more than to share a warm bath with her future wife, she respected Vi’s obvious discomfort.

“I’m sorry, Vi. I didn’t mean to pressure you to unclothe. I’m so sorry. I have no excuse.”

Caitlyn put the clean and folded tunic on her bed. “Your dry clothes are on the bed.”

Vi said nothing, still facing the far wall—holding herself.

Caitlyn hesitated, “I’ll send in the handmaidens with clean pants. I truly am sorry.” At Vi’s continual silence, Caitlyn pushed down her self-pity and began to leave her own room. I’ll be in the library after this, she thought to herself.

“...wait.” Vi eventually whispered. 

Caitlyn slowed, but didn’t stop approaching the door. When she opened it to leave, Vi spoke again. 

“Caitlyn, wait.” Her tone sounded apologetic.

Ashamed. 

Something Caitlyn didn’t want Vi to feel. “I’ll just be on the other side of this door, Vi—”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Caitlyn nodded and closed the door, pressing her head against the smooth oak surface. “Are you alright?”

Vi shuffled around. The plop of wet material hitting the floor let Caitlyn know the northern lord was changing with Caitlyn still in the room.

“Just—wet, but I’m fine, my Princess.” Vi whispered.

Caitlyn licked her lips. 

“You can look at me, Caitlyn,” Was whispered even more quietly.

When the princess slowly turned around, Vi was standing still near the wardrobe. The tunic Cailtyn had chosen was far too small for the bastard. And while—easy on the eyes, showing off the muscles and hard body that Vi would hide under large clothing, Caitlyn saw the markings. The ones Vi would always try to hide. Both natural and unnatural. Vi had rolled up the sleeves. Possibly too short to even cover her arms. Her leather wraps were hanging on the back of the chair to dry and Vi’s skin was visible. Caitlyn slowly stepped forward then stopped, wanting to see the decorative ink.

Vi noticed and held out her arms. “You can look at ‘em.”

So Caitlyn did. She crossed her room and stood in front of the lord. Caitlyn timidly held out her hand. “May I?”

As an answer, Vi lifted her dominant arm for Caitlyn to touch.

The princess wasn’t shy in “hiding” the way she wanted to simply hold Vi’s hand, while tracing the ink with her other. They were strange, similar to dothraki’s traditional ink, but clearly Vi made it her own. “Do they mean anything?”

Vi hummed, shivering the more Caitlyn touched her skin. “Not really. But now I kinda wish they did so I can tell you some ‘meaningful’ story behind them.”

Caitlyn smiled. “You can still tell me about them.”

Vi got an excited look in her eyes. “This one,” Vi pointed to her elbow. “...hurt like a mother fucker. Sevika made me get it since I lost most of her knives overboard. Failed target practice.” the bastard smiled at the memory. 

Caitlyn was relieved to see Vi open up.

“This one,” Vi trailed it up her arm to her shoulder. “I lost a card game, meant to pay the man who gave it to me with gold but I lost my money. Had to punch my way out of the tavern. Sevika didn’t help. Said if I was grown enough to pick my own fights? I’m grown enough to finish them. I was on cleaning deck duty for months so I could pay back the owner. Silco’s buddy. We needed that port to stay friendly.” Vi laughed at herself. Her inner child was healing with these stories being said aloud. 

Vi enjoyed the fact that Caitlyn traced Vi’s previous trek up the bastard’s arm. Vi took Caitlyn’s other hand and placed it on her neck. “Maybe I do have one meaningful one. This one,”

Caitlyn noticed the circular marking on Vi’s neck. A single flower inside of the burning gear. “What does it mean?”

Vi carefully placed her hand on Caitlyn’s waist. Never going higher or lower. Being mindful of where her fingers fell on Caitlyn’s body. A gentlewoman. Vi stared into Caitlyn’s eyes and smiled. “It means I’m yours.”

Typical romantic response still got the best of the princess. 

“Oh my gods, Vi.” Caitlyn felt a flutter. “Be serious with me, please.”

Vi smirked. “I mean it.”

Caitlyn giggled and hid her face in Vi’s neck. Holding onto strong shoulders, nearly on her tiptoes  to keep them both level. Vi must’ve felt more brave as she too held onto Caitlyn in an embrace. Simply hugging each other. Caitlyn traced the ink that seemed to travel around Vi’s shoulders and down her back. From the tightly fitted tunic, it was hard to see just how far they went. 

“Why do you hide them? They’re beautiful.”

Vi only tightened her hold on Caitlyn’s waist and sighed. “Only you seem to think so. I hide them because—the only reason I got them is to hide the battle scars… from places I want to forget. I never wanted you to see them. This isn’t the body deserving of a princess. They’re ugly. Nothing’s pretty about scars. But—I’d be happy knowing you’re the only one to see them now.”

“Oh, Violet,” Caitlyn felt immediate shame. 

Here, Vi was revealing how she thought her body and scar were too hideous for a Princess to love—while Caitlyn had to calm her heartbeat (both of them) when she craved to have Vi—biblically. She pressed herself harder against Vi’s body. Does she really have to wait for marriage? Surely Caitlyn, as a princess, could just sample a taste of the lord. Have what Caitlyn’s been craving. Just once—be both the maiden and the whore.

Vi gently pulled back, pressed a kiss to Caitlyn’s hair, before pulling away completely. “I’ll let you get changed, my Princess. I’ll be outside the door.”

Before the pirate could step away, Caitlyn gripped Vi’s tunic tightly and tip-toed to give the lord a firm kiss on the lips. Wanting and filled with love—desperation. Caitlyn remained soft at first, allowing Vi to escape, runaway if she needed to. Just a hairline of a kiss before pulling away. But not completely. Letting their lips touch one another. Vi was breathing a tad louder and Caitlyn eagerly tasted it all. From the bitter wines to the sweetened treats Vi was eating earlier, and a taste that was purely Vi. 

The princess would need an army to pull her away. Caitlyn’s grip only tightened on Vi’s shirt. “I want you,” she whispered.

But Vi heard it all. Felt it, even more so. Her eyes were observing the princess, hands were overly mindful of where they fell on Caitlyn’s hips, the Lord’s eyes reflected a darker—wanting declaration. If there was a doubt or any indication Vi wanted this, Caitlyn felt it in the Lord’s hands on her waist. Still a gentlewoman as Vi leaned down and captured Caitlyn’s lips with much more passion. Caitlyn’s body sagged with relief, molding against Vi’s.  

“Violet,” Caitlyn whispered,

But Vi used the moment to taste inside Caitlyn’s mouth, deepening their kiss. Caitlyn whimpered as a tongue stroked her own, feeling her knees buckle, but strong arms caught her. Vi’s hands were now greedy in their touch, much more daring. Palming her plump rear before pressing her open hand flat against Caitlyn’s back. 

A quiet “princess” whispered against her lips. A cute and timid sounding plea that was overturned to filth. Vi sucked on her tongue and kissed the princess properly. Sloppy yet neat and steady. 

Gods be good, Caitlyn buried her hands in Vi’s hair, under her tunic, stroking warm skin. Take me now!

“Gods!” Caitlyn moaned loudly as Vi kissed down her neck. The princess squeezed her eyes shut when her lower heartbeat quickened. 

Throbbing in her core. If she could simply mount the Stark Lord in this very moment, Caitlyn would not hesitate. Her own hands roamed Vi’s body. The hard and the softness it offered. Vi was now breathing heavily. The princess never wanted Vi to stop touching her. And to stop being so gentle with her!

“Touch me, Vi!” The princess commanded through a gasp.

Vi let out her own ungodly noise; like a rumbling forming in the back of her throat. Between a growl and a whine. “Caitlyn,” She moaned. 

Vi’s hands were traveling upward, too slow for Caitlyn’s liking. Thumbs stroking the corset just below Caitlyn’s breasts—then Vi stepped away. Appearing angry with herself. “I’m sorry,”

Caitlyn was left in the cold of her room while Vi covered herself and apologized. “I’m so sorry, Cait, I got carried away.”

“Mhm,” Caitlyn wasn’t too far behind either. She let out a shaky breath and sat on her bed, collecting her thoughts. “I’m a willing partner, Vi. As your future queen, we can do what we please to do.”

Vi grabbed her dry clothes and hesitated. “I want you, Caitlyn. But I don’t want to do anything before marriage, my princess. You deserved to be loved unconditionally on the night of your wedding.”

“Our wedding,” Caitlyn corrected, still seeing stars and her body was still floating towards a precipice she’s never quite felt before. 

“Yes,” Vi smiled and slowly stood in front of Caitlyn before dropping to her knees. Resting her head on Caitlyn’s lap. “Yes, and I will make it worth the wait, Caitlyn. I promise. I’ll treat you kindly. I’ll give you my everything. And I’ll never leave you because I,” Vi turned her head to kiss Caitlyn’s knee. “I lo—,” her voice faltered.

Caitlyn stroked Vi’s wet hair to the side to see the lord’s face. “Yes?”

“I love you,” Vi whispered before quickly rising to her feet, expecting nothing when she’s willing to give everything. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner, my princess.”

The bastard left quieter than a mouse.

Caitlyn was frowning at her mixed emotions. Desire, sadness, and love. But her body was filled with such a burning passion, the princess hardly understood where to place these emotions. The only acknowledgement that she was awake and aware was her own disappointment. 

But Caitlyn smiled to herself. “Falling in love with you again won’t be so terrible, would it?”

Though love had never left the princess’s heart. Just needed to be reawakened. 

[Unknown time before the announcement of Winter]

A woman’s scream rang through the halls.

Through her labors on the side of the walls stood guards. Most were as still and as quiet as the dead. But one young guard nervously looked around. “What’s going on in there?”

Their Lord Commander’s attention snapped towards the lad. They glared at him. “The miracle of birth.”

The guard flinched when the screams only got louder, barely drowning the chanting priestesses. “I know about birth. I’m the oldest of eight. This isn’t that.”

The Lord Commander smiled. “Not every woman’s labor is the same. Ignore it.”

In the other where the woman continued to scream and cry, growing weak from blood loss, she prayed for death to come quickly for her. “Ahhhhh!”

A hooded handmaiden held onto the woman’s head, looking into her eyes. “Breathe, my Lady. One final push!”

The weakened woman was crying and screamed through the final push. A priestess opened a jar and knelt between the mother’s legs. A shadow crawled out of the womb. A loud otherworldly cry entered the room before it fell into silence. The priestess closed the jar, sealing it inside. 

The bearer of the child collapsed in relief. “Is it a girl?” she asked, hope in her voice—undying faith in her eyes. “Did I provide a daughter? Is it a girl?” she asked weakly

The red priestess looked down at her. “It will be.”

Chapter Text

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"On the endless night, The promised King of the North will rise and steal the warmth of all the lands. Seeking out her Lily. They will speak curses and tribulations of their fallen love. Screams of mourning will sour the winds. Never stopping until Winter ends."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

[2+ years before the announcement of Winter - When Vi was leaving the Riverlands to rejoin her uncle’s fleet.]

It was an unusually cold night,

Though Vi always preferred it that way. A reminder of home. Home. Home in Winterfell and away from the lingering summer breeze. Still preserving the final years before winter. Fall may only last a few months this time. 

They were at a smaller port, Silco’s friend. Yes, the one Vi nearly lost them with her teenage temper that one year. But only allies roamed these streets and sat with the Sea Hounds for a drink. Vi wasn’t much of a drinker. Not wanting to lose her own thoughts and free will around the whores and their wandering hands. Vi was sitting at the bar reading one of Caitlyn’s earlier letters. Smiling the entire time and wishing—dreaming, she was there with the princess in the very gardens she always wrote about. 

Sevika was sitting beside her, going over their plans for the next few years. Vi was listening. If Sevika would rather discuss sea-bound strategies than fuck every whore on the port, Vi knew it was important. 

Her aunt wasn’t even drinking either. Sevika leaned closer to Vi, “Put that away and listen to me,”

“I’m listening,” Vi obeyed. Carefully tucking Cailtyn’s words into a neat pile and placing them in the small chest before handing it to the barkeep for safe keeping. 

Sevika was looking around the tavern, “There’s faces I don’t recognize tonight,”

Something was brewing on the seas, and Vi was literally shivering with excitement.  

Vi was good at remaining impassive. Unreadable expression. “Cool,” she responded, “It’s happening now, huh?”

But Sevika knew her niece was high alert, “Could be nothing. But there’s whispers. Keep an eye on your uncle.”

Vi was toying with one of the blades Sevika gifted her. A strange weapon from an even stranger land. Somewhere in Essos. Somewhere far from the safety of Westeros. The blade wasn’t too spectacular. But its design was cruel. Made to maim, only injure, never kill. The blade was short and jagged, and the handle fit perfectly in Vi’s hands. As she’s gotten older, Vi was used to obtain information from spies or traitors. 

Vi flipped the knife expertly before sheathing it on her belt. She’s gutted many men with this single blade alone. She’s truly Sevika’s protégé. Vi got up, “I’m gonna hit the sack for the night,”

Sevika curtly nodded.

Vi was sound asleep in her room for the night.

The tavern was also quieting down. But there was a figure across the small road, sitting in the shadows watching the window where Vi was sleeping. Leather gloves over their right hand and a scarred left. Akali slowly got up and checked the moonlight. She closed her eyes and waited to hear them. 

“The god of Death claims this life,” she whispered before sneaking across the street.

Sevika was watching her the entire time. She glared and waited for her move.

Vi was snoring like a baby, nothing would wake up.

Not even from the creaking of floor boards as footsteps tiptoed towards the bastard. There were two of them now. One with an arrow aimed at Vi’s chest, while the other had a knife prepared to slice open Vi’s throat. They froze when Vi innocently rolled over, hugging her pillow, resuming her loud snoring. 

The two assassins looked at one another for guidance. They both silently nodded. The hooded one raised the bow once again, “Valar Morghulis,” he whispered, then released the arrow.

He released the bow but his partner began gurgling. Choking.

“Valar Morghulis,” Akali whispered as well.

Vi grunted in pain. “Mother fucker—ow,”

The bowman stepped back, fearful of who he saw. 

Akali was holding the second man’s face, her knife was buried deep in the assassin’s throat, “The god of death claimed a life that was owed,” She nodded to the door, “You can leave if you choose,”

Akali stepped back and the body dropped to the floor, dead. The bowman didn’t hesitate to take the offer. He rushed to the door and ran out. But a large woman met him. 

Sevika grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall, she looked inside Vi’s room. The young bastard was slowly ripping off her shirt, revealing a knight’s leather guard underneath. “Are you alive?”

Vi hissed. “I was still impaled, you mother fucker!”

Akali leaned down to help, unbuckling the thick armor then yanked it off causing Vi to yelp. She looked over the small injury.  “A single prick. A bastard woman will live,”

Vi groaned. 

Sevika glared at the man, yanking his hood off. She froze. “I know you.”

The man struggled. “No you don’t,” he tried

“Wildy, Lord Stark calls you,” Sevika rammed her largest knife into the man’s throat. She let him fall to the floor. “This is Lord Commander Hoam’s men,” She pointed her knife at Akali and snarled. “You took way too fucking long to get here,”

Akali wasn’t bothered by Sevika’s anger. “A woman was climbing the building for you,”

Sevika rolled her eyes. “I hate how you fuckers talk,” She marched down the stairs to alert Silco

Vi was slowly pulling on a clean tunic when Akali behaved strangely. She looked around at the two bodies before kneeling next to the one she killed. She slowly lifted her hand, touching her own face. Vi’s heard of these people before, but has never seen something like this in person. 

A face changer.

Faces of many and no one.

Vi was still afraid. Seeing and not understanding what just happened. “What are you, Akali?”

They looked up at Vi, their face was different. “A person is no one. A person is a ghost. An ollie,”

"...a what?" The bastard asked,

"An ally," The person smiled.

Vander was pushing his way through the crowd of people.

He got on horseback as soon as he heard and raced towards the ports. His armies close behind him. Vander recognized this place. A neutral zone with both southern and northern pirates unwinding with alcohol or whores. Once he spotted Vi leaning against a crate next to Sevika Vander nearly ran forward. Benzo was right behind him,

“Vi!” He shouted.

Vi calmly looked up, surprised to see her father there. “Lord Stark?” She tried to get up, but Sevika kept her there.

Sevika got up instead and met Vander halfway. She held up her hand. “That’s close enough, my lord,” She motioned to the men surrounding them. “You’re setting everyone on edge,”

Vander glared at her. “What happened here? I received a letter,”

“Did you?” 

Vander frowned in confusion, “I—,” he looked around and noticed the bodies hanging near the ports. Both headless, but Vander could recognize the Stark colors. “What did you do to them? What happened here!”

Sevika reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter with a broken Stark seal. She handed it to Vander.

Vander snatched it from her hands and quickly unrolled the small parchment. He was shaking from what he read. “You think I sent this?”

Sevika nodded towards the hanging bodies. “These are you close men. Most ‘trustworthy’ you call them, isn’t that right? A call to have your bastard’s head,” 

Vander shook his head. “I would never desire to have any of my children taken from me. I didn’t even want Vi in War. I wanted her home with her family.” He hesitated, “Does she think I did this to her?”

“No,” Sevika mumbled. “She thinks it was the Lannisters,”

Vander sighed in relief. “Can I speak to her?”

“No. Not until we get answers,”

“I didn’t do this,”

“It’s your writing,” 

“Writing can be forged,”

“It’s your seal,”

“It can be forged!” Vander shouted angrily, losing himself to a rising fear about his daughter’s life. “You think I would make such a foolish attempt on my own daughter’s life?”

Sevika raised her brow. “Bastard daughter. I know you Vander. We grew up together. You, me, and Silco did things that these men couldn’t even fathom. You never spoke about Vi until you claimed to find her again.” Sevika got up in Vander’s personal space. “She was never yours until she was forced to be yours.”

“She’s mine,” Vander was shaking. He looked past Sevika towards Vi. She looked afraid, worried for her father. “I love her like my own now. She’s mine. She’s my blood,”

Sevika pushed him back, “Your blood to spill? Is that why you sent these assassins to kill your daughter? This isn’t the first attempt on her life,”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Vander shook his head. He roughly brushed past Sevika and headed towards his daughter. “Vi, let’s go home!”

Vi flinched when dozens of pirates unsheathed their swords and aimed them at her father. Silco came up from behind Vi, placing his hands on her shoulder. “She’s not going anywhere, brother,”

Vi was confused. “What’s happening? What did my father do?”

“Not your concern,” Silco responded. “But you’re my responsibility now. Get on the ship and wait for my orders.”

Vi hesitated. Too far to hear what Sevika was telling Lord Vander, and too loyal to her uncle. So like the good hound she was, Vi quietly left. The same men who drew their swords on Lord Stark followed Vi onto the ship. 

Vander was crying. “You’re taking her from me,”

“She was never yours, my lord. But for now she belongs to the fleet until we know you can be trusted with her.” Sevika pulled out a small knife.

Vander saw it and fell to his knees. “Do it. Do it if you’ll have peace of mind,”

Sevika dropped the knife at his feet. “The queen still requires your services, my Lord,” she kneeled and placed a small vial in his hands. “You know how we work. This isn’t new for you. Help us trust you again, Vander.” Sevika leaned in close. 

Vander was in anguish. “...the queen—,”

Sevika smirked while she stood. “...sends her regards, my lord. When winter is here, call Vi home.”

[Present]

Caitlyn grabbed the wolf pieces on the war table and slid them from Winterfell, which was marked on the map, and moved them to the wall. “Blood magic, you called it?”

“Hm,” Cassandra hummed while reading the letter from Lord Cregan. 

A letter that was directed to Lord Vi. The young legitimized lord immediately shared the news with the princess, who took it and gave it to her mother; the queen.

Caitlyn frowned, “Are we to do nothing? Stand by while the northerners are targets to forest witches?” She continued to walk around the war table. She glared at the pieces. Most Lord Commanders saw these as a game. A game of power, a game of lust, a game of women, and—, “...perils to this game of thrones,”

“If that’s what you’ll call it, though your father defers to the north.” Cassandra was sitting in her study going over—unforeseen challenges when her daughter requested to be seen. “Bodies of direwolves are found everywhere. This means nothing sinister as you claim. Perhaps the wildlings were hungry. Moving more south to avoid the harshness of the coming winter.”

Caitlyn was whispering under her breath. “Vi doesn’t think so. They know the north, and they know the direwolves. These creatures are sacred to them, even the wildlings. Connecting them to their old gods.” She looked up. “Someone is sending a message to the northerners,”

“What message do you think that is?”

“Something cruel, perhaps.”

“You think gods are cruel?”

“I don’t assume they’re entirely compassionate, mother,” Caitlyn murmured, a hint of rebellion. But in these quiet moments with Cassandra, the queen allowed it. Preferred it, even. “..especially with this world I live in. We’re no more than a clash of kings and queens at this point. We pulled our men from the north. Will we be no better than House Targaryen at this point? Abandoning starving soldiers. And the red priestess’s here, why so many for a single house? You said they were here to help me with my studies, educate me to be wise, prepare me to be a leader,” Caitlyn looked up towards the queen, “guide me through motherhood.”

Cassandra looked up from the book. A tormented look in her eyes that quickly vanished. “That is what they’ll continue to do, my love. My daughter,”

“Is this,” Caitlyn stared down at the war table once more before reaching out and grabbing the direwolf piece. She held it up for the queen to see. “...is this why I’m going to marry Violet Stark?” 

“Indeed,”

“Why her?” Caitlyn’s voice quivered, as though afraid of the answer. 

Cassandra sat up, truly facing her daughter. “Why do you ask me this now?”

“Lord Cregan is—,”

“Betrothed to another and Lord Vi is next in line.” Cassandra relaxed once again and smiled assuringly. “It’s the most logical,”

Was it, though?

“But why does it need to be House Stark? Why Lord Vi?” Caitlyn looked down at the direwolf figurine in her hands. “Why a former bastard? Why… a woman?”

Caitlyn had definitely thought about this. 

More than once,

…every time she sees Vi. Like a clean gift, perfectly designed for Cailtyn’s desires; surely—there was a price to pay for it. And Caitlyn knows her mother. She’s her daughter after all. 

Cassandra remained silent, instead she curiously observed her daughter.

Caitlyn was cautious yet curious in her inquiries. “How will I have a daughter? How will I continue my lineage for future queens of House Kiramman? I look at you know and I see it in your eyes, mother. You have answers you’re not willing to share with me. Will these answers hurt me?”

“No,” Cassandra whispered honestly. “I want you to respect me, not fear me.”

“Kings view those as one and the same.”

“Am I a king, my dear Caitlyn?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “No,”

“I am your queen,” Cassandra carefully stood up and approached her daughter. A fine young woman in her early prime. A youth that Cassandra never had. A warrior princess that Queen Cerenna desired. 

‘Rule with an Iron Heart. Seek not an iron throne, for Queens shall reside above the clouds and above all men.’

Cassandra placed a finger under Caitlyn’s chin, quietly requesting her daughter’s attention. “And you will be the queen that follows,”

Caitlyn closed her eyes. “What kind of queen will I be?”

Cassandra let go and stepped towards the war table. A table that was hidden until a few weeks ago when the first sights of war from House Baratheon claimed the Iron Throne, and claimed House Stark will kneel once again. She looked around at the pieces and her attention fell on the north, and all its great houses. “The north seeks to separate from us. They’re choosing to rule over themselves in favor of any sovereignty,” The queen turned around but Cailtyn was already beside her. “But House Kiramman handles our own,”

Caitlyn frowned, not entirely understanding. 

“There was Queen Cerenna the Brave who helped fight off the dragons and keep out House Targaryen. Then there was me, Queen Cassandra the Wise (they call me) who kept the peace between disputing houses, and you,”

Caitlyn’s jaw set, glaring at the war table.

“...will be Queen Caitlyn the Uniter that will bring the North together. And yes, Caitlyn, we are a part of the north. Always have been, regardless of our house’s history.”

Caitlyn sighed and leaned against the table. True love’s marriage was clearly a fantasy in her heart. Clearly the princess was lost in her mind around a beautiful bastard with arms of steel and a heart of gold. 

“I don’t wish to be a queen who will put aside her duty of honor to chase loyalty. Lord Vi and I will have our houses that will follow. But I worry for the north. They’ll be my family after I say my vows through marriage, and I’ll vow to aid them whatever comes their way.”

Cassandra nodded. “And House Baratheon? How will you handle them? With the same compassion you’ll give the north?”

“Would compassion out-weigh discipline?” Caitlyn asks her mother. Her countenance darkened and was filled with fear. “If I choose that path, to be Queen Caitlyn the Compassionate, would I be mocked or revered?”

“If that’s the sort of queen you choose to be,”  

“And if I choose differently? If I send men to the south to eradicate those houses, will the people love me as their queen?”

Or would they fear me as they feared the Mad King?

“‘Long may she reign,’” Cassandra quoted, remembering the time she was given the crown. Cassandra observed her only daughter, hiding a proud smile. “You define your own worth for the crown.”

It was the middle of the night by the time Caitlyn had left the Queen’s council room.

A lot to discuss to prepare Caitlyn for her marriage. Discussions she never had when she was going to marry Lord Bran, or even Nathar. But no, the queen was going to step down and allow Caitlyn to be crowned in her stead. Perhaps only a few years down the line. Cailtyn assumed 10 to 15 years, but the Queen made it sound that it would be much sooner. As the only daughter of Queen Cassandra, this was bound to happen. And yet, the princess was terrified to rule. 

At least she’d have King Consort Violet by her side. 

But even then,

Caitlyn rubbed her belly, wondering what it would be like to be with child. To have a child. Have a daughter. As a princess, it was always expected of her to have many children, raised by their lords and handmaidens while Caitlyn ruled a nation. She dreamt of being a mother. Hoped for it, one day. That dream easily became a nightmare when Caitlyn was going to marry Lord Nathar. She couldn’t imagine carrying the spawn of the cruel man. 

Instead, Caitlyn dreamed about a miracle happening and she was able to bear Vi’s daughter. Carry both lineage of House Stark and House Kiramman. A powerful daughter she would be. A wolf and a lily. Brave and wise and compassionate. With Caitlyn’s fierce determination to love unconditionally, while still maintaining Vi’s adept skill in fighting. In handling wars and controlling the narrative to her will. Caitlyn dreamed Vi would be there—holding her hand while smiling proudly with her wife. 

‘You gave us a daughter,’ Vi would proudly announce in the dream. 

Cailtyn would blush away the fantasy. Only in dreams would that be true.

They were nearing her side of the castle, Caitlyn was being escorted back to her room when she noticed something peculiar. Vi, still dressed in her sleepwear, sneaking around the castle. Though, not quite sneaking around, yawning, and appearing like a teen throwing a silent tantrum while she followed Lady Mel down the opposite staircase.

Caitlyn may have had an idea on what they were up to, but the surprise of it all would be worth it. So she knew she wouldn’t ask. She trusts Lady Mel with her life and with her future wife’s.

Caitlyn rubbed her belly once more, wishing herself wonderful dreams before she went to bed.

Sevika never liked these cellars. 

The cold she could handle. Even having been born and grew up most of her life in Summer, the cold never bothered the woman. The last winter was much shorter; lasting only two years before Spring came like a great awakening of new life. That was the Winter that followed the death of the final dragon. Some people called it a great promise, while most saw it as a bad omen. 

That the next winter will be much worse. 

Long, colder, and will bring more death with it.

Sevika walked beside Silco as they were led down these stupid and dark disgusting cellars. Prison would be the more appropriate word. It smelt like rot and death; along with mold and everything else that reeked. “Burning incense would be nice. Maybe even set this damn place on fire.” She snarled and nearly lost her stomach from the stench. “I get Rhaegar now.” she mumbled. 

Silco chuckled and hummed. “I agree, there could have been a more practical location. But this place wasn’t my choice, it was his.”

Sevika frowned. “Whose?”

Silco smiled while opening the final iron gate. “My new best friend.”

They both walked through and Sevika saw the Maester slumped over a table. Pressing and prodding of the corpses they brought him. “The fuck is he doing?”

The maester never looked up from the voices, only continuing his work. “...interesting,”

Silco nodded for Sevika to follow him. They rounded the table and Sevika wasn’t surprised to see the entire body opened with clamps and other equipment. The only strange sight was the beating heart. 

She glared at the man. “Is this cunt still alive?”

Maester Viktor looked up from the body. “No. He’s still very much dead.”

Sevika motioned towards the heart. “Then what the fuck is this?”

“Science,” Viktor offered. He motioned around his “work space”, “Feel to look around. I only ask you to not touch any of my work instruments.”

Sevika nodded. “I know your face. You used to work for King Rhaegar.”

“The king is dead.” Maester Viktor answered indifferently. “I serve no one. I only have work partners.” He briefly looked at Silco before returning to his work. 

“Indeed,” Silco walked towards the other side of the room. He unsheathed his dagger and held it up against a guard's throat. “The project that I needed finished is on the way, Sevika.”

Sevika narrowed her eyes, slowly approaching the same guard. His eyes were vacant. Cloudy and without life. Dead. Yet, undead. “What the hell’s the matter with this guy?”

Silco slowly slid his knife into the man’s throat. He never made a scream and no blood was spilt. “Perfection, Maester Viktor.”

The Maester didn’t accept the compliment. “That one is trash. He makes no movement to defend himself.”

Sevika looked around the cellar and realized every cell had several of these un-alive bodies just standing around. “These are the dead Lannister soldiers you had us bring here. What the fuck are you doing with them?”

Silco pulled out his knife and wiped it down. “Winter’s coming, Sevika. But the cold is hardly a matter of importance. Something’s coming with it. And I need an army of men who are void of fear, pain, and death.” he looked over at her. “I needed Vi to lead them, but perhaps she’ll lead a different army.”

Sevika slowly nodded, remembering the stories. “The Others. Your men have seen them, huh? How many are there?”

Silco got quiet, almost afraid of the same stories that his niece, Powder, loved to hear. “Endless.”

 Out in the gardens, Caitlyn read from her favorite book. 

Fire and Blood. The same one she refers to when the unease and the pressures of being the only princess weigh her down. Caitlyn reads the recounts of her favorite queen. (outside her family, of course) Only this time, she had a special guest to share this with. The princess was leaning against the weirwood tree, the same one where she set up Vi’s memorial, while she read aloud the passage that kept her going as a child. Caitlyn was still a future queen and needed to maintain her studies, be prepared for her meetings with her future council before she’s crowned.

Nathar wasn’t allowed to sit in them and neither was Vi.

But at the end of those long days, when all Caitlyn wanted was to be around the northern lord. Learn about Vi’s time at war. Kiss her. Hold Vi’s hand. Ask more about the scars that are so not hidden. Vi would remove her hands from Caitlyn’s as the princess inquired about the scars on her knuckles.

‘They’re nothing serious,’ Vi’s reply was short, clipped tone, clearly not eager to divulge what she had to do when she was out with her uncle.

But Caitlyn understands the cruelty one must be to survive wars. 

She would never admit she prayed for Nathar’s demise when he was out helping his father. Never to return. A young lord that would die in a glorious battle. Caitlyn’s read about the northman. War filled their veins. And honor will forever be bestowed on their house if they “die with a sword in their hands and the enemy’s blood at their feet”, or so Caitlyn’s read. 

But as Caitlyn watches Vi, her future wife, but still a bastard of the North, she wonders,

Vi was laying on her back in the grass, eyes closed, hands tucked underneath acting as a pillow. They were so close Vi’s elbow kept bumping Caitlyn’s thigh while she read aloud for Vi. She appeared so serene, without worry—not as a nervous wolf always on the lookout like Nathar was.

Vi was a northerner, but she was a bastard of two houses.

Caitlyn bit her lip, contemplating before asking, “Do you know which house your mother is from?”

Vi’s smile didn’t quite vanish, though it dimmed. Sad, but understanding where Caitlyn’s curiosity lay. “My mother was a whore,” she whispered.

Caitlyn’s brows knitted together, “Truly?” This wasn’t news to her, but—,

“Yeah. Why?”

“Powder said,” Caitlyn looked down at her text, reading about the possible illegitimacy about the Queen’s sons. “I thought those were lies told to you to prevent you from knowing who your mother truly was.”

Vi slowly inhaled, then opened her eyes. “Well, if she was someone important, then I never knew what house she came from. But I grew up in King’s Landing with my mother. And she,” the bastard thought how to phrase it, but—, “...she was a whore for the capitol. Nothing more. I loved her. I still do. But that’s the only life I ever knew as a child.”

Caitlyn nodded, “It’s possible she was a lady at one point?”

“From my hair color, I’ve also been told she was a wildling taken to the capitol,” Vi brought up, but she was smirking. “So I would be half highborn and half wildling. Could you handle that?” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively,

But Caitlyn was preoccupied with certain information, or lack thereof, “She had to have been someone. Who discovered you?”

Vi was confused by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Who knew you were Lord Vander’s daughter?”

“I uh, well, my father knew,”

“And he kept you away?”

Vi shrugged. “I was a bastard born daughter. That hardly announces the importance of a house. Nor would I bring anything to House Stark.”

“Yet, he rediscovered you and brought you to Winterfell. Lord Stark made you a part of his great house. Why? I mean, I’m truly delighted he did, otherwise I would be marrying your brother. The younger one,”

Vi smiled at that,

Caitlyn appeared so out of sorts on Vi’s behalf. “You have two, certainly unknown women, living in the middle of the capitol. One a child, the other a no-name worker for pleasure. Who would look at you both and say, and I say this subjectively solely based on how the masses think—I would know, but how would someone look at you and think, ‘That’s Lord Stark’s bastard daughter. We should alert him at once.’”

Vi opened her mouth then quickly closed it. She gave Caitlyn a curious frown. “Look, my love,”

Caitlyn blushed at the natural nickname,

“...I’ve been asking myself these questions for years. They drove me insane. Almost every night. Why bring me to Winterfell when I could’ve easily died on the streets of King’s Landing and no one would know who I was? Why bring shame to his name and ruin his marriage?” Vi stretched and reached down to pluck the grass, needing a distraction. “Why even bring a bastard child? Why bring home a half daughter?” Vi whispered. 

Caitlyn sighed loudly. “Who put the recognition of a father’s love in Lord Stark’s heart after what, nine years?”

“Eleven,” Vi corrected,

“Eleven years,” Caitlyn repeated. “I’m glad he did, but—I tend to wonder. Genuine affection to a call of duty? A bit presumptuous of me, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.” Vi leaned closer to Caitlyn. “It was either a sudden fatherly revelation or,”

“...fear,” Caitlyn supplied. 

“Yeah. That.”

“But who would be powerful enough to put such fear in one of Westeros most dangerous warriors?”

Vi looked up at Caitlyn, “I don’t know. But it’s kinda interesting. Maybe once we’re married, I can look a bit further into it.” Vi laughed bitterly as she remembered something, “You know I told Nathar I wished I were a man, then it would all make sense.”

Caitlyn leaned over Vi. “Well, as an admirer of the fairer gender, I’m so glad you aren’t.”

Vi smiled. “Even though I don’t have a cock?”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened, “Violet!” she scolded.

Vi’s laugh was infectious. “Come on, my princess, you surely haven’t thought about it at least once?”

“No!”

Cassandra was following Lady Sun and a few of her handmaidens down a dark hall. 

Neither in the cellars, nor in the dungeons, but the queen was waiting for a solid answer. After all these years. After these long and trying years. Her patience has long since dried out, and in its stead was stone perseverance. A willingness to try. Though the queen has exhausted every resource she’s countered throughout her years, she knows this is her chance.

For herself,

For her bloodline,

For Caitlyn.

Lady Sun held the door open for everyone. “Your Grace,”

As Cassandra walked through and spotted a certain handmaiden sitting on the bed, waiting for the queen, she wondered if she may have lost herself along the way. Cassandra quickly crossed the room and pulled the young girl into a tight embrace.

A motherly one. 

Cassandra was crying, without realizing. She pulled back and held onto the handmaiden’s face. “You’ve served us well, my dear. Are you ready to try?”

As her answer, the handmaiden began to unclothe herself. Then laid naked on the bed. She was crying herself, yet determined to help. Lady Maria was holding onto the same vessel that held the shadowy creature. She knelt between the handmaiden's legs and opened it. 

Cassandra held her breath,

The shadow slowly crawled out. Elongated claws reaching for the bed. A wolf-like and half human appearance to the horrid creature. It let out an inhuman cry. It looked at the handmaiden, before crawling away in a blink of an eye. 

Cassandra yelped in surprise. “How many of these damned things will be lost!”

Lady Sun stepped forward and watched it disappear through the walls. “I don’t believe they’re simply vanishing, Your Grace,”

“Then where are they going!” The queen angrily shouted. “Find me my grandchild now!”

“...Rhaenyra Targaryen, cheered as the ‘Realms Delight,’” Caitlyn cited, having resumed her reading from earlier. No longer distracted from Vi’s wandering eyes. 

Vi plucked a flower from one of the beds that Caitlyn personally planted. Still laying on the grass next to Caitlyn, her shoulder brushing the princess’s leg.

“...only living child from King Viserys’ first wife, Queen Aemma of House Arryn,” 

“You love this story, don’t you?”

“Absolutely Queen Rhaenrya was announced as a King’s heir at only the age of 8.”

“You were younger, though?”

“Well, of course. I was born with the title. I’m  an heiress. We’re a matrilineal house. But this,” Caitlyn pointed to the book, “...this is House Targaryen! The most patriarchal house out there—,”

“Most incestuous one as well,” Vi pointed out,

Caitlyn giggled, “Yes and yet a Targaryen King named his daughter heir to the throne! Above his brother, even before his sons that he had with his new wife. Alicent Hightower. It’s beautiful. It’s the story every girl should read about. It’s brave what Queen Rhaenrya went through,” 

Vi rolled the flower through her fingers. “Hightower, name sounds familiar. Lady Alicent was a little—fruity wasn’t she?”

Caitlyn slowly looked down at Vi. “Sorry?”

“Fruity. You know—,” Vi raised her arm and let her hand fall limp. “Fruity.”

“I don’t know. Forgive me,” But the princess was grinning at the strange expression Vi wore.

The bastard struggled on how to explain it. If only there was a word to describe what they have. Anything besides “sins of the flesh”. Vi licked her lips. “Kinda like what we have as two women in love yet—accepted, and… fruity,” she winced. “I don’t have a word for it.”

“Oh I see,” Caitlynn nodded. “The strangeness we share. I understand. At least, I think I do. But no,” She slammed the book shut. “I highly doubt Lady Alicent… delved into the forbidden fruits, so to speak. Queen Rhaenrya however….,” 

“Lady Alicent and the Queen Rhaenyra—when she was a princess, were really close in the history recounts.” Vi pointed out.

“Yes, they were very good friends,”

Vi hummed, leaning closer to kiss Caitlyn’s leg. “Closer than that,”

Caitlyn huffed, “Lady Alicent was the princess’s handmaiden,”

Vi shrugged, “Is that so unheard of?”

Caitlyn pressed her lips together, thinking about it. “That would be like me and Lady Elora—giving it a go and behaving, fruity, as you call it. But Elora and I were raised as sisters. I can hardly imagine me and her in that manner,”

“Or you and Roann?”

Caitlyn froze at the new handmaiden’s name. “Roann? Why do you keep bringing her up? Does she bother you that she’s here?”

“You two are close, right?”

“Professionally close. She’s House Kiramman’s handmaiden,”

“I know, it’s just Roann speaks so highly of you and it’s strange that—,”

Caitlyn appeared offended on Roann’s behalf. “Strange? Why? Did someone say something to you?” she snapped,

Vi blinked at the harsh tone and carefully collected her thoughts. She trusts Roann, but more importantly, Vi trusts Caitlyn indefinitely. The bastard studied Caitlyn behavioral patterns. Appearing guarded of her actions. Closed off answers, and open ended questions. To the unbeknownst, Caitlyn and Roann were rarely seen together. Never in the same room. Yet, both spoke so fondly of each other. Vi was confused when they had gotten close.

How they had gotten close.

But here Caitlyn was willing to speak on behalf of Roann. And to be honest, Caitlyn standing up for her servants is hardly news. One knows the Kiramman value in every life as equal status.  But the Princess appeared defensive. Like a mother protecting a guilty child. A sister taking the fall for another. A friend willing to lie for the sake of honor. A princess who knew that her late husband was sleeping with a handmaiden.

…something that could’ve easily gotten Roann killed. 

Vi cleared her throat. “Did you—did you have to help Roann get out of a situation that she willingly put herself in?”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s quite a strange way to phrase it, my lord.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t trying to say anything shitty. I love Roann like my own sister. I get it. Even though she hated me when we were younger. But, she did good by Powder,”

Caitlyn seemed to accept that.

“So you two are close?”

Caitlyn looked down at her hands. She did that thing again. Rubbing her thumbs over her palms in a self-soothing manner. “We had a bonding moment—in a manner of speaking.” Caitlyn looked up. A pure honest influx to her tone. “I’ll never forget it.”

Vi sensed the change in the air and decided to let it go. And instead brought up, “So you and Roann weren’t like Lady Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra?”

Caitlyn visibly relaxed at the change of topic. She rolled her eyes. “No, we were not. Roann loves the touch of men while I prefer women. So, actually, yes. Perhaps we were like Lady Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra,”

“Uh huh,” Vi smirked, still kissing Caitlyn’s dress. “But I’m sure they behaved like married wives with each other. At least, half a dozen times.”

Caitlyn arched her brow. “Only half a dozen, you say?”

“Mhm,”

Caitlyn smiled as Vi dragged the petals of the flower up her leg. “Vi,”

“I’m listening, you can keep reading to me.” Vi slowly sat up to keep going. 

She pressed a kiss on Caitlyn’s covered knee, then her thigh, then her hip… Caitlyn’s breathing faltered and she shook her to clear her thoughts. Trailing kisses where the flower touched. Caitlyn closed her eyes when Vi trailed the flower between the valley of her breasts, Vi didn’t disappoint and placed a kiss there as well. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn breathlessly tried to warn,

Vi lazily traced the flower over Caitlyn’s lips. Back and forth, down to her neck, and back again. Vi leaned closer, dropping the flower to capture Caitlyn’s lips in a deep and passionate kiss. Caitlyn instantly gave in. The book falling off her lap.

Vi smiled at how quickly Caitlyn succumbed to her. A royal mermaid caught in the pirate’s net. Nearly forbidden love, granted for the powers of houses. But Vi didn’t care to think about that now. Not when Caitlyn pushed Vi—almost roughly, aggressive in her kisses. Wanting and oh so needy . Vi let Caitlyn press forward, pushing the bastard backwards until Vi’s back hit the cool grass. Caitlyn hovered over her. Smiling, almost in shame, yet proceeded to keep going. 

They’ve gotten more comfortable in their kisses. 

Never straying further. But hands would wander, always above the waist. But gods, was Vi struggling to maintain her and Caitlyn’s honor when the princess mewled like a wolf in heat. Gasping into Vi’s mouth. Licking at the bastard’s mouth, teeth tugging on scarred lips. Vi moaned at the sinful sounds escaping Caitlyn. 

“Fuck,” Vi whimpered, “Caitlyn.”

“Mm,” was Caitlyn’s only response. She risked going further. Books about queens be damned. 

Caitlyn gave in as Vi squeezed her hip in encouragement, and laid on top of the lord. The princess let out a shaky breath. The things she wants to do with Vi’s body—not a single body part would be forgotten from her mouth and tongue and—, “Vi,” Caitlyn whimpered as Vi kissed down her neck. “You said we should wait until marriage,”

“...did I?” Vi sucked harder, earning a loud moan from the princess. Vi smiled against the skin. “Gods, we’re going to consummate our marriage for days at a time,”

The whine that escaped Caitlyn nearly caused Vi to begin shredding clothes.

Someone loudly cleared their throat. “My princess,” 

Caitlyn nearly flew off the bastard. Pressing her back so hard against the weirwood tree, she was certain all the Stark’s ancestors felt it. “Lord Commander,” she whispered in shame.

Her face a deep red, nearly matching the rose gardens.

Lord Commander was looking down at Lord Vi, brow arched in question. “You’re supposed to be with the other lords getting sized for your wedding,”

Vi tried and failed to blend into the garden. “...was I?”

“Lord Jayce reminded you this morning during breakfast. You agreed with him,”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Vi tried

Commander Grayson hardly bat an eye, “You said, and I quote, ‘Be there on the hour, Lord Jax,’”

Vi hid her smile, “That may sound like me,”

Grayson held out their hand for Lord Vi. “It’s past the hour, my Lord,”

Vi accepted and yelped when the Lord Commander yanked Vi to her feet. Vi admired the commander’s strength. “Damn,”

Grayson politely bowed towards Caitlyn. “We’ll leave you be, my princess,”

“Uh huh,” was Caitlyn’s breathless reply. 

Once Vi had left again, Caitlyn let out a frustrated groan. “I wish to mount her like a whore and gods , relieve myself for days at a time,” 

Cregan was standing in the doorway while his two younger brothers sat with their father. 

They were still children, they were only young boys who saw their father as a blameless man. A perfect man they look up to. Vander was delirious through his fever. Nearly dying the same way Nathar had. But Cregan was educated. He wasn’t the dumb little boy who followed Nathar around the training yard, or shared ghost stories with Vi and Powder late at night. 

Cregan had a suspicion of poison. 

Even though Vander was slowly dying from an “infected” blade to the stomach, their father refused to name or even acknowledge how or why he got this sort of injury. 

He barely noticed Dywen and Eddard brushing past him. Whispering “He’s expecting you, now,”

Cregan never heard a word until Vander weakly sat up in bed. “Cree,” He called out to his oldest living son.

Cregan shut the door behind him and stepped closer to the bed, but kept a good distance between them. “You’re dying,” he stated, not entirely in a cruel way, but something that was clearly out of his hands.

Vander was now sitting up in bed, looking as pale as the old in dying graves. “Cregan, my boy,”

Cregan nodded, “Speak quickly, father, you don’t have much time.”

Vander blinked slowly. “You hate me,”

“I don’t hate what I don’t know. And I’ve never known you as a father,” Cregan whispered. “But I’m not a boy anymore. You cannot make me love you anymore, not after what you’ve done.”

Vander watched his boy closely. “And what have I done to deserve your contempt?”

“I said I don’t hate you,” Cregan pulled out a letter from his uncle. “But I know what you did to Bran and Nathar and what you tried to do to Vi,”

Vander frowned his confusion,

It angered Cregan, “You lost two sons! You sent them away to die. One to a war you started, and the other to an unknown sickness. Then you tried to have my sister killed. Uncle Silco told me everything I need to know,”

Vander sat up as Cregan crossed the short distance and laid the parchment on the tableside. A stolen letter Cregan’s men managed to obtain from a spy. A letter detailing ways to kill Lord Vi. He glared at the letter. “This wasn’t from me, nor was it for me,”

“Don’t lie to me now, or you’ll be buried with the dogs out of Winterfell,” Cregan glared at him. “Who were sending these letters to? Who are you conspiring with? This is treason, father! You don’t want your family name tied to House Kiramman yet you bend and howl like a dog for the queen whenever she invites you over and requests a son for the princess.” Cregan slammed his fist against the wall. “And now Vi is trapped there,”

“I wanted her free,” Vander, a physically strong and once powerful warrior, cried on his bed. “Please, Cree, hear my honest words when I say to not challenge the queen. Whatever you think I did to my boys, my firstborn son—I would rather die than allow it—,”

“Then die,” Cregan simply stated. “Whoever poisoned you didn’t do a good enough job. If you died weeks earlier, you would’ve died as my father. Now you’ll die as a man who betrayed his own blood for gold. Forgive me, my lord, I have to find my little sister, and rescue the true Lord of Winterfell.” Cregan spat out angrily and quickly left the room,

“Cree!” Vander shouted, while attempting to roll out of bed. He pulled his sutures. “Ah. Cregan!”

Outside the castle walls a familiar hooded person with a scarred hand and a gloved right hand looked up into the night. Their eyes were white as they commanded the ravens around Lord Vander’s window. Once returned to normal they faced their companion. “The young lord’s falling for it. Our work here is finished,”

“I’ll send a raven to the queen,”

The hooded person smiled, “At once,”

In the middle of the night, a bastard was sneaking out of her room once again. Vi’s eyes were still nearly shut while she followed Mel,

Second week they’ve been up to this—”practicing” as Lady Mel calls it. Vi hated it at first, until she noticed Caitlyn dancing splendidly with other lords and lady’s during events or formal gatherings. So she relented, and decided to listen to Mel’s guidance.

Lord Jayce and Roann were in the great hall waiting for them.

Jayce grabbed onto Roann’s hips with a purpose just as he showed Vi every night. “Like this, don’t forget.”

“Uh huh,” Vi yawned and got in stance with Mel. The two faced each other.

Mel smiled tightly, “Grab my waist, my lord, we don’t have all night,”

Vi groaned and did as she was told. “It seems like we do. And you use every second of it,”

Roann tried to fight off a laugh, “My lord, please focus. If not for us then for the princess on the day of your wedding,”

Jayce nodded, “Caitlyn loves to dance, and these are her favorite dances. She’ll fall in love with you if you lead her into one,”

Vi cleared her throat and nodded, “For my queen,” She grabbed Mel’s waist, eyes still halfway closed. 

Mel began humming the melody and Vi took her cue, now “expertly” gliding around the great hall. Still bearfoot, still in her sleepwear, but much more confident in the way her body loosened up.

“Very good,” Mel complimented, then kept singing before switching up the song.

Vi smiled and stomped her foot, “I like this one,”

Mel winked, “I knew you would. Do you remember the footwork?”

Vi fought back a yawn while she continued to lead the dance, “I barely remember what I ate today, I’m so tired,” She slowed and dipped lady Mel, “I might trip,”

“I can work with that.”  Mel smirked.

Vi slowed to a stop to watch how Jayce held onto lady Roann. She copied his pose and audibly gulped. “I’m getting married,” She whispered with glee.

They danced and practiced well into the night.

It was after midnight hours by the time Vi dragged herself back. 

Though she made a purposeful stop on the way. 

Caitlyn’s hair was still up from during the day, leaning on her tiptoes to kiss Vi properly goodnight. Vi leaned down, holding onto the princess’s waist. 

“I love you, my princess,” Vi whispered against Caitlyn’s lips. 

Caitlyn smiled into it. “I love the way you kiss me, my lord. But I would love the honesty if you share where you go during the night?”

Vi leaned into the kiss Caitlyn once more. “It’s a surprise, Cupcake,”

“Ugh,”

Vi laughed while pulling away. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out another letter. She kissed Caitlyn on the cheek before handing it to her.

Caitlyn accepted it, though she appeared saddened. “Forgive me, I haven’t written a new one for you.”

The bastard shook her head. “I don’t need a new one. But I’ve been told countless times how you waited for me to write you back. I’m just upset you’ve never received my words.” Vi grabbed Cailtyn’s hand to kiss it. “Good night, my princess.”

Vi quietly left to her room, feeling Caitlyn’s eyes on her the entire time. 

She nearly slammed her door shut and pressed herself against it. Vi smiled. “I’m going to give you the best love making House Kiramman would ever have,” she promised aloud.

Vi laughed at herself and slowly made her way to her bed.

But she stopped halfway,

Years on the battlefield prepared Vi for the eerie sensation of being watched. But Vi was an expert at not giving herself away. 

Instead, she quickly walked to the door that led to her small patio. Vi leaned against the railing, appearing to be enjoying the night sky. But she grabbed the handle of the knife she had tied on the outside.

Vi shivered involuntarily. Feeling a strange fear inside. 

When she heard it behind her, Vi spun around—attempting to grab the attacker's throat. Her hands fell through—smoke? Vi gasped when the creature grabbed her own throat. “..the fuck are you!” She wheezed,

The shadow appeared as a half man, half wolf. It was large and much stronger than Vi. The shady wolf snarled. It smelt of death. Vi was violently struggling. Desperately trying to get away. Her body jerked as it stabbed Vi with the same blade.

Vi’s mouth silently hung open and the shadow disappeared inside.

The bastard fell to the floor, but no blood was spilt.

Powder screamed while falling off Bone’s back. “Violet!” she cried into the night.

So far north and so far from home. Yet a little closer to answers that she’s been seeking for years. Bone quickly laid next to the young teen. It whine as Powder writhed in pain, as though stabbed. 

She opened her eyes and stared into Bone's. "Bring them here. All of them,"

Bone understood everything and quickly ran north. 

Powder wasn't truly left alone, though. A large deer instantly appeared, eyes white with magic. It laid beside the warg to keep her warm. Powder clung to the creature. "Please, reach them in time, Bones,"

End of Book 2

Chapter Text

[Decades before the announcement of Winter]

When I was conceived, people called my mother a witch, but before that, a whore. I was never meant to be, and yet my life was made purposeful by the most unlikely ally.

The trotting of horses through muddy roads became monotonous,

…a constant annoyance to the women in the carriage. Though the occasional lurch sideways or forwards kept the travel interesting. 

A cloaked young woman had her hands neatly folded on her lap. Staring at the same spot on her family ring. The same ring her late husband had slipped onto her hand. It was strange really. Using jewelry to announce a marriage. The subtle things that the commoners resort to when proper marriage licenses aren’t granted to them. She reached up and held onto the oldest jewelry. A necklace of refined stones, so rare, she keeps them hidden under her royal gowns.

The woman next to her reached over and covered her own. “We’re almost there, Your Grace,”

The queen let out a quiet exhale. “Will this all be worth it in the end?”

“It will,”

The driver stopped and tapped the side of the carriage, “We’re here, Your Grace!”

“Is this the place?” Lady Sun scrutinized the large overrun stronghold. Now acting as a castle to House Frey.

“It is,” Lady Melisandre accepted the guard’s hand who helped her off the carriage. The same cloaked woman sitting beside Lady Sun followed the red priestess. They walked through the mud and heavy rain towards the castle gates. The priestess nodded to the soldiers.

They pounded on the gates. “Open up for the Queen!”

The spyhole slid open and a man glared at them. “The fuck do you want now!”

Lady Melisandre pulled back her hood. “We’re here for the witch. Where’s Lord Frey?”

The man groaned and slammed the spyhole closed. The priestess waited as the heavy gears groaned while they worked and the heavy gate slowly slid open.

A middle aged man with shoulder length gray hair stepped through. “My father passed away a fortnight ago. Yer lookin’ at him. What do ya want?” his cadence blended each word into the next. 

Lady Melisandre politely bowed her head. “My lord, we’ve come from the Plains to your east. We are here on word about the witch. Can you bring her to us?”

Lord Frey snarled at the lady. “Aren’t ya witches yerselves?”

“Messengers for the Lord of Light,” Lady Sun announced while she walked up. “Bring us to her. We won’t ask again.”

The third woman stood behind them, but Lord Frey recognized the queen right away. 

He got nervous. Eyes darting about the guards, the Lord Commander, and perhaps soldiers with bows hidden in the trees. “I didn’t rape her, Yer Grace.”

Lady Sun pushed forward, creating a walking path for the queen. “That’s not for you to decide, my lord.”

Cassandra slowly pulled back the hood, revealing a class of youthful beauty that was so rare per generation. Lord Frey was confused by the appearance. So young and pure. Probably still tight and unused . Was this not the same girl whose family was destroyed by dragons… some fifty odd years prior? The last remaining daughter of House Kiramman. A noble house that forged their own sovereignty against House Targaryen. Lord Frey barely remembers being a young boy kneeling beside his father and dozens of sisters before Queen Cassandra, who was a child herself at the time, swearing an oath to serve House Kiramman.

Lord Frey wasn’t an old man, but he had lived a full life.

…and this damned woman hardly wrinkled in age.

Cassandra set her attention on the lord, bowing her head gratefully. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Frey. Your house continues to honor us after all these years. And during the disputes with House Targaryen and their other great houses.”

“Mhm,” He barely refrained an eye roll.

“And for the sake of honor, I pray the lady is well and kept safely from the wandering eyes of men.” Cassandra nodded to her Lord Commander who held out their arm and escorted the queen into the castle.

Walter Frey wisely kept his mouth shut as they walked past him. “Fuck my father for fucking witches.” He hissed under his breath. “That’s why I only fuck whores and marry ‘em.”

Cassandra followed her priestesses towards the cellars. 

Dank and dark and a lingering stench of human waste. The queen wasn’t bothered by it all. Far too eager to meet this lady whom Lady Sun told all about her. Most of the queensguard remained on the main floor while the rest followed. Lord Commander Grayson lit a torch and carefully led them down the slippery and stone stairs. 

Cassandra only tripped once on the bottom, mostly in her rush to see the woman.

There was a haste in her steps. Pulling up her large royal garments as her cloak dragged across filth and mud. Cassandra followed Lady Sun and gasped when she saw the woman in a cell. “Open it,” she commanded with hesitation.

Lord Frey was rushing to follow.

Cassandra glared at him. “Why is she down here?”

He shrugged. “Well, she’s not gone be bothered by men down ‘ere,”

“Your Grace,” Lord Commander corrected him.

Lord Frey sighed as though terribly inconvenienced. “Yer Grace,”

Cassandra held onto the bars of the cell. “What do they call you, girl?” 

Lord Frey awkwardly waved his hands. “Nothing good, is what I hear,”

The Queen glared at the lord, “What is her name?”

“Karma,” The woman in the cell answered,

Cassandra’s attention snapped to her. “Open this cell. Now.”

Once the iron gate was unlocked, Queen Cassandra quickly pushed past the Frey guards and knelt in front of the very pregnant witch. A young woman. A maiden, they claimed. She was filthy, appearing broken in spirit, quiet.

Cassandra wiped her face. “You’re safe with me,”

The woman shook her head. “You only want my baby,”

“I do,” Cassandra answered honestly, “But only for her blood. You can keep her, raise her, and love her.”

The witch was quiet. Tired. Lips black with her own magic. “I don’t want it, Your Grace. Cut it out of me for all I care.” Her voice was weak, giving up in life,

Cassandra frowned. “It?” She questioned,

Lord Frey let out a loud groan. “I told you no one touched the witch…  Yer Grace,” He rolled his eyes at Lord Commander Grayson, “That thing inside ‘er is unnaturally formed.”

Unnaturally formed?

Cassandra couldn’t stop smiling, “Good,” She would need this same magic for her own bloodline.

It was a miracle I was here. Alive and well in Westeros. My mother never wanted and claimed I wasn’t his. “Barren Witch” they called me as a child. I never knew what that meant. Only that I was a highborn bastard conceived from Lord Frey’s private brothel. It was a miracle I was alive. But a greater miracle occurred months after I was born.

In the first few months of Summer, the cries of a newborn baby resonated throughout the Kiramman Castle.

No handmaiden went without work, no guards strayed from their posts, and even the midwives were without rest. All awaiting the arrival. At last, the Queen had brought forth an heir. 

Cassandra couldn’t stop crying. All in relief and spent from her labors. “Give her to me!” She cried, voice trembling with fear. “Hand me my daughter,” she begged. Cassandra craved to hold her child.

All those stillborns, born in silence, or forcibly aborted by her own body, the Queen was in agony. Blissfully so. Cassandra just wanted to touch the child that finally made it.

Karma, the witch, was wiping down the newborn. “Almost finished, Your Grace,” 

Once the baby was cleaned, Lady Maria approached the witch and held out her hands. “We need to bless her—,”

“Give me fucking daughter! I will not ask again!” Cassandra screamed.

Lady Maria nodded and stepped aside, allowing the witch to hand the queen her new bundle of life. 

Cassandra let out a miserable sob. She wailed as she held onto her daughter. “I love you so much and I’ve only met you,” She peppered her baby’s face with gentle kisses. She sniffed her, and inhaled her sleeping baby. Even rubbing her face over her baby’s. “Oh my Gods, you’re so perfect. You’re so beautiful,” Cassandra kissed and kissed and kissed her slumbering infant. “I never want to let you go,”

A handmaiden meekly stepped forward as well as a septa and a Maester. “Your Grace, have you chosen a name for the announcements?”

Cassandra hadn’t thought about it. Too busy chasing prophecies and trying to get pregnant after all these years. But one person stood out from her past. “Caitlyn,” she answered and spelled it out loud for the Maester.

Lady Maria stepped forward. “Should we baptize her in the Light of Seven? For your old gods?”

“No,” Cassandra was looking at Caitlyn. “There is only one true god. Baptize her in the blessing for the Lord of Light,”

I’ve only ever known the life of a castle. The endless commotion of the royal staff. Working with House Kiramman was an honor bestowed only for the hardest workers. I was too young to remember. But I’ve heard the stories. 

It was a constant reminder to the young girl where her undying loyalty should be.

And it wasn’t with House Kiramman, but with the Lord of Light. Lady Maria was reading to the child. A young girl. Roann, they called her. Rivers as her surname, for she was known to be the highborn bastard of Lord Walter Frey. Or so they say. It was easier to explain why the queen visited Riverrun, why the Queen left with a pregnant woman, and why she aided a woman who the northerners called a forest witch.

“...He will never leave you nor forsake you,” Lady Maria read the scriptures. “Once you give your life to the Lord of Light, He is yours and you are His.”

Karma was watching her daughter learn to read with the priestess.

Her spawn, she thinks to herself. She looked out the window of the room they were in. High up in a castle, overlooking the waters of the Narrow Sea. “Why do you still need her, Your Grace? You have your daughter. What more could you ever want now?”

Cassandra was sitting on a chair watching the girl with the red priestess. Raising the child under the fluence of the one true god. “She’s not for me. I’ve done my suffering to gain my daughter,” She unseeingly stroked the jewels around her neck. “I’ve already justified my sins for the longevity of my House. It’ll be my daughter’s turn soon enough,”

The priestess smiled at the child, “Good girl, Roann,” 

Karma kept her attention on the Narrow Sea. “You can take her already. I don’t want to see her face again.”

“She looks just like you, but I suppose that happens when there is no father involved. However,” Cassandra got up and approached Karma. “Roann’s purpose is much more than I could’ve ever imagined,”

Karma narrowed her eyes. “Your daughter is far too young to determine if she’s barren as well. You have to wait years for her to bleed. Both of them,”

The queen laughed, “No, no. I’m not after her womb either. Or perhaps I am?”

“You don’t even know why you need her, do you?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Have you ever followed a really old cookbook? The ones that grandmothers keep. A secret recipe that only the family knows. But you take a shot at it. Very detailed. Where you have all the ingredients in front of you, and you know exactly how the meal is going to come out, yet you’re missing a vital page of information. I may have followed a certain guide of instructions. I’m simply curious why I need an extra—body involved.”

Karma just impassively watched the city below. “Can I stay here?”

Cassandra didn’t seem surprised by the question. “You wish to stay and serve House Lunari?”

Karma nodded. “I want away from her and everything involved.”

“Fine,” the queen answered. “But you know she’ll be taken to Winterfell very soon. I have a future son-in-law from House Stark. One I am promised. And one I am owed from a promise years ago. You can stay here with my husband’s family.”

It would many years later that Karma would receive a Stark bastard to care for. 

She’s read the stories, and she remembered what the queen was missing. But that day as Bastard Vi leaned against the very same window, and looked upon her as though she recognized Karma from somewhere, the now middle-aged witch knew what her daughter’s purpose was.

I had no friends, for I only had family. Family through the love of our Lord. But I have had one friend. A truly pure and loving soul.

Roann was completely indoctrinated,

Fed blind faith. Knowing her place. Seeking out fulfillment with a man that Queen Cassandra promised Roann could have.

She ran her hands through the princess’s hair. The smooth locks, always perfect (usually) had some knots and imperfections. “Did you try washing your own hair while I was gone? Horrid job, I’ll say,” She joked.

Normally Caitlyn would laugh, or even crack a smile for Roann to see. But this time, Caitlyn was a stone of herself. Completely out of body. 

Roann continued brushing Caitlyn’s hair before walking around and kneeling in front of the princess. “My princess,” She placed both hands on Caitlyn’s knees. “...have I said something to offend you?”

Caitlyn, even out of her mind (wherever she may have gone) reached for Roann’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “I’m getting married soon,” She mumbled. “I’m getting married in a fortnight,”

Roann smiled proudly, “Yes, my princess! You’ll have a husband who will love you undyingly so and will give hi—,”

“He doesn’t love me,” Caitlyn interrupted. “He never has and he never will.”

“Princess—,” Roann slowly pulled away. Something akin to guilt and regret plagued at her heart. She loved the princess and House Kiramman. She’s laid with Caitlyn’s future husband, and although she doubts Caitlyn would care—if anyone found out, Roann would be killed on the spot.

“I’m glad he doesn’t,” Caitlyn leaned forward, pressing her head against Roann’s. “I don’t want his love. Or whatever cruel and twisted meaning Nathar has for it. I just want what I want. I wish Vi were still here,” She squeezed her eyes closed as they burned with tears. “Fuck. It’s been years and I still feel for her,”

Roann knew what true love was. She knew what it looked like, but never what it felt like. She meekly reached up and held onto Caitlyn’s face. A very beautiful, outstandingly pleasant to be around, and merciful princess. Roann remembers when they first met in Winterfell. How Caitlyn openly flirted with the handmaiden, enjoying how Roann blushed under the honest and sweet compliments. If only Nathar was like this with herself.

Roann hesitates, she’s seen lady Elora offer a certain type of comfort. Instead, Roann leaned in and kissed Caitlyn’s cheek, barely touching the corner of her mouth, before pulling away. 

Caitlyn was smiling. “You didn’t have to do that, my lady. I know you’re not—strange like me.”

Roann offered an assuring smile. “I know, but you’ve been nothing but perfect for me. And you’re very beautiful and kind. Might as well before you marry,”

Caitlyn laughed softly. But her mood shifted so suddenly, “Have you and Vi ever—,”

“No,” Roann answered sharply. “I mean no offense, my princess, when I say this. I’m sure Vi is charming and—handsome in your eyes, but I wouldn’t touch the bastard with a ten foot pole. She stinks like wolves and she behaves like a pirate,”

Caitlyn’s expression softened. “I can tell you love her and miss her too,”

Roann nodded curtly. “I do miss her, my princess. But my grief won’t bring back the dead,”

“Neither will mine,” Caitlyn answered just as quietly,

The Great Plains were in celebration of the newly weds. 

Nathar was still ill from an injury in battle. Roann had been slipping him some strong medicine. Very well and perfect for the now prince. Princess Caitlyn didn’t even try to look happy. Just utterly miserable during the ceremony and after. It didn’t help that the other lords were shouting for them to consummate their marriage. 

Prince Nathar was escorted to Caitlyn's room to get ready for the Princess. 

Caitlyn nearly ran out of the great hall with her mother close behind. The perfect distraction. Roann slipped away to visit the prince before the princess.

Nathar looked as pale as the dying.

Roann waited until Nathar stripped off his remaining clothes and lay down waiting for his new wife to please him. Unaware that Caitlyn was still downstairs with everyone else. 

“This cock won’t fuck itself!” He shouted as though Caitlyn was in the other room. “Get in here, wife, and let me put a baby in you.”

Or so he thought. 

Roann made sure of it. As well as the one who hired her for this deed. The former handmaiden quietly approached the bed and removed her cloak. Naked and ready underneath. She crawled onto the bed and grabbed Nathar’s cock. Hard and tight as he enjoys it. He grunted in response. Smiling through his delirium. Through his ever growing fever.

He reached for Roann. Seeing her yet not. “Caitlyn.” He whispered breathlessly. 

Roann ignored the tears that welled up. She was here for one reason. And perhaps, after all these years, she may have fallen in love with this man along the way. His touch and his actions toward Roann were all on his own accord. The whispers they shared in Winterfell and even during the battles near Riverrun. Roann felt genuine love and affection from Nathar. And her heart craved for him. But she was here for a purpose. To help continue a legacy that didn’t belong to him. 

Roann mounted him and quickly went to work. 

Rocking her hips hard and fast to bring the prince consort to a finish. He moaned loudly. Hoarsely through his illness. “Caitlyn!” he shouted when he finished. 

Giving Roann the seed she craved.

The seed she needed.

She wiped her tears and reached for the bedside table. She opened the vial of her “medicine” and poured it down Nathar’s throat before sealing his mouth with a kiss. Forcing him to swallow the lethal dose of the medicines that were meant to cure him. Nathar fell asleep one final time. Never to wake up again. As though he died from an illness he couldn’t overcome.

Roann wiped her legs clean and was putting on one of Caitlyn’s robes when the door opened.

…and Caitlyn walked through carrying a cup of water and a small vial. “My Prince?” she called out. But her attention fell on Roann.

Both looked surprised to see each other. 

Caitlyn froze as though scolded in place, while Roann awkwardly hid her nudity from the princess. Roann couldn’t stop the tears. “My princess,”

Caitlyn looked to the bed then to Roann and back again. “Is he…?”

A quiet sob escaped Roann. “Forgive me, my Princess. You weren’t supposed to see him like this.”

…and you weren’t supposed to be here.

Roann watched as the princess gently placed the cup on the bedside table, next to the vial that ended Nathar’s life. Roann waited to be next. Fearful and unsure what cruelty resided in Caitlyn’s heart after seeing her husband dead in her bedroom and a former whore naked with him. 

Roann cursed herself for flinching as Caitlyn quickly approached her.

But the princess helped the handmaiden dress. “Hurry, you mustn’t be here for this.” Caitlyn grabbed the robes from Roann’s hands and helped slip it on the handmaiden.

Roann was crying through her confusion. “Am I going to be hung?”

“Shh, hurry.” Caitlyn quickly buttoned the gown. She cupped Roann's face. “Calm down, I’m not going to kill you.” she whispered. “Come on.”

And the princess was honest in her word. Roann sniffed and could see how true Caitlyn would remain to her words as they spilled so easily. The princess was worried only for Roann, while she was relaxed.

Relieved.

Roann followed the Princess out of the bedroom and into the main room. She waited to be led out. 

“You’re in love with him, aren't you?” The princess asked the handmaiden. “That’s why you always spoke so highly of him. Looking past his—hardened nature,”

Roann slowly closed the door behind her. She looked to it for guidance and answers but found none. Perhaps, now, in her final hours. Honesty was deserved. Princess Caitlyn deserved to know. “All my life, my princess.”

Caitlyn appeared saddened by those words. “May the gods carry him home, for your sake.”

Roann frowned, not understanding. Does the princess not know that she—that Roann killed Nathar?

Caitlyn walked towards the side of her fire pit and opened up another secret entrance even Roann wasn’t even aware of. The princess nodded towards it. 

Roann stared at Caitlyn in disbelief. “Princess?”

Caitlyn smiled. “If you leave that way,” she nodded towards her main door. “...there are guards outside my room that will ask questions that I know you will not provide valuable answers to. You leave this way? There is a guard at the end that will take you back to the front gates.”

Roann slowly blinked. Confused yet still unsure at the way this night was unfolding. 

“They won’t ask questions.” Caitlyn whispered. “And you can go where you please.”

Caitlyn returned to her spot on the comfortable sofa and spilled her wine onto the wooden floors. “Go before I change my mind.”

Roann seized the chance and rushed out of the room. The stairway was far too narrow and it reeked of mold and aged brick. She slammed against the door at the end of the tunnel and tried her best to push it open. It was stuck from lack of use or—

The door swung open. Pull from the other side causing Roann to stumble forward and into the arms of a knight. “Forgive me, ser!”

“I’m no ser.” 

Roann knew that voice and slowly looked up, meeting the eyes of Lord Commander Grayson. “My lord.” she whispered in fear.

But Commander Grayson offered the handmaiden a new cloak to put on. “Follow me. She’s waiting for you.”

Caitlyn sat down after having checked on Nathar who was no longer breathing. Gave into his illness on the night of their wedding—after having bedded a handmaiden. Caitlyn didn’t mind. Roann got her “happy” ending, albeit still a tragic end, and the princess already knew what had happened. She remained seated until she knew Roann was far from here. She opened Vi’s last letter and read it over again. And again. And again until the tears wouldn’t stop even if she tried.

She lost two people, but mourned only one. “Guards!” She screamed with all her heart and internalized frustration. “Guards!”

They nearly broke down the door rushing in. 

One knelt in front of her, a female knight. “My Princess, what has happened here?”

Caitlyn tearfully nodded towards the bedroom door. 

The guards rushed inside.

Lord Commander Grayson led Roann down various stairways, leading to the dungeons. She should’ve been afraid but she wasn’t.

Grayson stood out an iron door and motioned towards it. “I’m not allowed inside, my lady. Good luck.”

Roann nodded and quickly entered the dark room. She’s been down here only once before. The room was actually very beautiful. One side filled to the top with shelves of books and historical events. Another, held two dragon heads that the late Queen Cerenna killed herself.

And the far wall held the largest hearth Roann’s ever seen. 

The handmaiden timidly approached the woman in the room. 

“Is it done?” They asked, still staring into the fire as though all the mysteries will be solved by memorizing every flame.

Roann also stared into it. 

Caitlyn stayed in the main room while the guards carried out Prince Nathar’s body. Maester Viktor had a morbid curiosity and looked over every inch of the man’s body before allowing the guards to remove him.

Caitlyn sobbed for Violet while pretending the tears were for a man she never loved.

“...yes, it is.” Roann whispered.

“Good.” Queen Cassandra watched the images in the flames change and she saw a new future. “The Lord of Light still requires your services.”

The former handmaiden saw something very different in the flames. Roann held onto her stomach and prayed. That mercy will be bestowed to Caitlyn. A gentle soul who put the life of a handmaiden before her own.

“Our work is only beginning.” Cassandra promised.

Roann continued to cry. “I know, Your Grace.”

I wasn’t born with a name, but I was given a purpose. 

Chapter Text

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"A spell will be whispered and the seed will bloom inside the Lily. Growing until the ninth month. They will have a daughter born from the waters of a River. The very same that runs through Snows and Queens. Confusion will arise and the Lily will flee from the Wolf King, afraid of lies and death."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Prologue to Book 3: The North

‘Tell me a story,’ a young lady Powder would command Septa Mordane.

Unable to find rest until the images in her head were gone. And rest would only be fulfilled by the tales of horrors and dead things, and cold things, and endless things. Though perhaps Powder wasn’t the only northerner to hear these stories. Fables, few would say. The worst winters, many would point out. 

A young northern son, common born little lad, was off in the hills outside his homestead feeding the cattle. He was too young to be out in the early morn’, but all of his older brothers and sisters were called to House Stark and wave their banners. War affected everyone, even the northern folk so far from the southern warmth.

His youngest sister was beside him. Too young to speak, too young to help, too young to do anything other than offer support and comfort. He turned to her and removed his small overcoat, “Here, it’s colder this morn. Take it,”

The little girl did so. She was watching the neighboring hills, still covered in the fogs and the chills that crept colder and thinner. She knew to wrap herself in warming clothing and walked beside her brother while he harvested grain and carrots for their morning meal. The fog seemed to dance in the winds. She smiled at the beauty of it.

“Fatha,” she whispered,

The boy’s attention snapped up. There shouldn’t be any man near them. The animals fled first, then the fog, then the winds. He dropped the buckets he was carrying to grab his sister’s hands. “Run!” 

…was the last thing spoken on this homestead.

~~~

Powder walked around the castle halls,

Desolate, destroyed, and empty.

She knew this place. It was older and younger. Familiar yet foreign. A raven flew past her shoulder, flying along the halls towards the great hall. She followed it, Powder always did. It always led her to a vision that she couldn’t explain. A dream that felt more real than being awake. Powder pressed forward and the Great Hall appeared untouched. No scorch marks. No columns were renewed over the years, instead there was someone who appeared broken .

A young teen girl. 

Powder slowly approached her, saying nothing. 

The girl wasn’t crying, too worn down to further express her grief. Instead she sat in the middle of the great hall staring at the far wall. Empty and expressionless. Powder saw the far wall was completely open. Scorch marks and the stench of death was everywhere.

Powder realized she was royalty. Highborn, perhaps even a princess? 

“Will she hate me?”

The question startled Powder, not expecting her visions to interact with her. 

The teen slowly laid down, reaching for her neck with one hand while staring off to the side. “Will she hate me for what I’ve done?”

Powder frowned in confusion, but the world quickly collapsed around her.

…

…

Powder opened her eyes and slowly got off her wolf then walked the rest of the way towards the weirwood tree. 

She looked around searching for the same area she’s been seeing in her dreams the entire time. Bones was sniffing around. She began digging at the foot of the tree.

Powder winced. “Dammit, Bones, now’s not the time to—,” she froze when she remembered another dream when Vi was standing at this very tree. Looking older. Much older, kneeling at this very spot. “Not very religious yet praying to the old gods?” Powder knelt next to Bones and began pulling back the loose dirt. “Why are we here?”

She stopped when she felt something hard. Something wooden.

Bones growled but Powder quickly pushed off the loose dirt before pulling it out. An old wooden box. Powder quickly opened it. It was a bundle of wool. She stared at it, hoping for an answer to come to her, but nothing came. So Powder decided to unwrap it. She didn’t know what to expect. 

Scrolls of an old prophecy coming to light?

Directions written on how to survive the coming Winter,

…or even an explanation of Powder’s dreams and what the fuck they mean.

Instead, Powder stared down at thousand year old weapons. Small daggers that appeared to be shaped from bones or crystal. Appeared like black stained glass. Previously scorched. “Fucking useless.”

Powder tucked them away. She looked around, feeling herself being watched but Bones wasn’t growling. She glared at her wolf. “I said take me to them and you bring me to a stupid tree. Someone was calling out to me, and I’d rather be home with my family than far north in the middle of winter. Ugh,”

Bones would stare back, doing nothing. 

Powder sighed and got up. “Where’s my sister?” she placed her hand on the trunk of the tree and felt herself being filled with dread.

Powder screamed, more at what she felt than what she saw.

Bones finally intervened and nudged Powder hard, causing the small lady to fall on her ass. Powder wasn’t upset, but she looked more angry than afraid. “Winter, that’s Nathar’s wolf, where is he?”

A raven flew down, eyes white with warg magic. 

“...the fuck?” Powder quickly got up and held onto Bones’s fur for safety. She grabbed the dagger Vi gifted her many years ago. “I have a knife and one nasty wolf!” She shouted her warning,

A man’s voice called out, “That won’t do you any good, my lady!” He stepped out from behind a tree. “.,.not when I mean no harm,” He nodded towards the wolf, “Even your pet seems to agree,”

Powder glared at him. “Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that. Who the fuck are you?”

He looked young, but that didn’t matter. Powder didn’t trust anyone she didn’t know. Her father taught her that. The man didn’t look like he was from around here. Dark skin and pure white hair in special twists that were meant to survive the salt from the Narrow Sea. “They call me Ekko,”

Powder just stared and waved her knife for him to go on, 

Ekko smirked. “Ekko Waters.”

Powder arched her brow, “What the hell is a Velaryon bastard doing this far north? If you’re here to kill me, I have a direwolf with me. You won’t get closer than that.” Bones growled, but made no move towards the bastard.

Ekko nodded, “I can see that, but I’m not here for blood. I was actually here for the Lord of Winterfell.”

“My father?” Powder only remembers a dying man that was too preoccupied with war and Nathar to give any of his other children attention, “I’m sure he’s long gone by now,”

He frowned, “Your father? I highly doubt the Lord of the Seas gave her seed to father you,” He sounded amused. “Although I do see the resemblance,” Ekko grew quiet, “Is… she your father?”

Powder rolled her eyes and grimaced, “Are you talking about Vi? She’s my sister. You know her?”

“Sister,” He slowly nodded, “I know her. Lived with her, fought beside her, and will bend the knee to her once she’s home. We both had very similar lives. Highborn bastards used for war. And our gifts from the old gods, spies for war. Silco used us when he could. We became close friends over the years. But, I assumed Lord Vi abandoned her sights.”

Greenseers, Vi was never good at utilizing the strange skill. Only entering Nightwing’s mind on full moons, or when the northern lord was sitting beside her direwolf. 

“You’re a terrible navigator if you ended up here and not on the seas,”

“I was following my companion. He brought me to you, my lady,” Ekko held out his arm and the raven flew to him. 

Powder snorted, “A pirate with a raven in the middle of the North, charming.”

“I guess whatever’s out here is more important than Vi, huh?”

Powder held up the wooden box, “Do you have any uses for glass daggers?”

Ekko looked confused. “Glass what? Sorry, my lady, I’m a lil confused,”

“Powder,” She corrected and motioned to the box. “This is where that shrieking voice in my head led me to,”

She allowed the strange man to get close enough to peek inside the box. 

He looked even more confused. “I didn’t realize dragonglass would be so far from Dragonstone,”

“Dragonglass? What’s that?”

Ekko appeared afraid by something, “An old weapon forged for a war that happened tens of thousands of years ago,”

Powder closed the box, thinking about everything. Her visions, Vi—Vi being attacked by Nathar… but her brother was dead. She missed him, even if no one else didn’t, she missed his stupid face. 

Maybe she just misses the family they all used to be. 

Bones began growling, sniffing the ground and walking away. 

Ekko watched the Direwolf, and his body visibly relaxed.

Powder noticed and smirked. “You meant no harm, huh? Why so tense?”

Ekko let out a sigh, “That beast is fucking massive. Gimme a break,”

Powder laughed at him, “She’s a big old softie,”

Ekko nodded towards Bones, “She catching someone’s scent? What do you call her?”

“Fishbones, but she answers to Bones mostly,” Powder shrugged, “I was a kid when I got her.”

“No shit?” Ekko shook his head and followed Powder and Bones. “You northerners and your strange pets,”

“Says the bastard with faint dragon blood magic in his veins,”

Ekko 

Chapter 13: The White Wedding

~~~

Cassandra was staring into the fires while rolling a gold coin between her fingers, “You did everything wrong, when I tried to do everything right. These shadows—these vessels to channel the blood magics for pregnancy, Vi could’ve been killed for your carelessness.”

Lady Sun was sitting across from the queen sipping the finest wine from a chalice. Similar to the ones only Cassandra drank from. “It worked. I know it did, I felt the power of a king be revived in this castle. The seeds of House Stark thrive inside the new Lord. When they lay together, it will work,”

Cassandra looked worn down, Hair loose around her shoulders, sitting in her nightgown—so unbecoming of an esteemed Queen with company. But she was a worried mother first and foremost. She worried for her daughter, but she worried for Lord Violet as well. “You could’ve killed her if it was wrong,”

“The young lord lives, Your Grace,” 

“If she died, your blood would be spilt by my own hands,” Cassandra quietly seethed in her righteous anger. “If Violet died… then this would have all been for nothing,”

The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room that inspired a calm for both women. Lady Sun calmly sipped her wine, refusing to look at the fires. Envious of those that can see what the Lord of Light allows. “Remind me again, what happened with Lord Vi and the—vessel you lost?”

Cassandra slowly inhaled. “I lost nothing. Roann gave me a—breath of hope. With her bloodline daughters can be born without a father. Daughters can grow in the waters of the womb. With her bloodline, Vi can plant what I need,”

Lady Sun arched her brow, “It’s a little late for riddles, Your Grace. Perhaps the wine dims the mind,”

“Vi can provide me a granddaughter,” Cassandra plainly stated and stared unblinkingly into the fire. “Just as the prophecy foretold. I don’t know what I’m doing with these blood magics and these stupid births that take the best handmaidens from me. Roann is the only one who lived.”

The red priestess slowly nodded, “Forgive me for bringing up painful memories, Your Grace, but Roann didn’t survive the ordeal either.”

“Yet, the Lord of Light allowed you to bring her back to me,”

The priestess understood. Aside from the obvious, Cassandra wanted plenty of daughters. She has Caitlyn, she gained Vi after their marriage, but she also had little Roann Rivers from the Riverlands. 

“He did,”

The final pieces were set, and the Kiramman Castle was in an organized rush; a wedding was upon the hour.

Guests were arriving and the instruments began to play, but somewhere in the castle a bastard sang a dark song.

“Let’s take a better look at you,”

Hands struggled to coordinate themselves around these strange buttons. Rushing to remove the item of clothing. Once opened, she quickly discarded the doublet. Roughly tossing it aside. The bastard of Winterfell smoothed her hands over her stomach and smirked in the mirror. She turned her head this way and that way. Naked from the waist up. No wraps to hide her breasts and no scars to show her hard work on the fleets. Her fancy trousers and the polished boots were the only thing Vi was wearing. She flexed in the mirror, laughing at her reflection. 

“Well, look at you now, bastard,” Vi poked at her own biceps. She behaved—abnormally. Cocky, so full of herself.

Vi looked down at her body and let out a wicked laugh. “...you have grown well into your awkward body. But you’re still so fucking hideous.”

The bastard swayed her hips while she approached the large mirror. Vi grabbed onto the edges, as though choking her own reflection. 

She winked at herself. “You look old. Pathetic. Still a woman, never a lord. Are we still a virgin? Don’t worry, bastard, I’ll take care of Caitlyn for us,” She reached between her legs, as though grabbing a bulge and laughed insidiously. “Her cunt will be mine now. I can feel her already,” Vi moaned, turned on at the thought of the princess riding her. “I bet she’s still tight since I last had her. I don’t even mind if she calls out your name. It’ll be my cock buried inside that royal cunt,” Vi smiled widely, showing off wolf-like teeth. 

“ My seed spilling inside of her. That’s what she wanted, right? I hope her garden is natural and overgrown if you get me,” Vi winked at herself, “A mans gotta eat and explore those virgin juices. Such a sweet pussy accepting everything I’ll spill inside of her. I wonder if she swallows. Just taking a mouthful of Stark cum? Gulping down future legacies?” Vi snickered, holding back a cackle, 

“She’s got the mouth for it, I’ll say,” She looked down and winked at her own body. “This will do for now,”

When Vi looked up, Nathar’s reflection was smugly grinning at her. “I was her first, bastard, and now—I’ll be her always,” he snarled. “Her cunt belongs to me!” He reached out of the mirror and began choking Vi, “Valar Morghulis—” Nathar’s expression turned cold. “You were never meant to live,”

Vi struggled against his iron grip. “Fuck you,”

Nathar said nothing, only squeezing tighter until it sounded like something snapped. His eyes grew redder and his face morphed into her own. Vi was killing herself.

Vi couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry out… couldn’t get to Caitlyn. Her legs gave and she fell. 

“That’s right, bastard,” Nathar’s voice whispered from her mouth, “...kneel before your king,”

Vi’s eyes slid closed and she fell backwards,

…

…

Vi’s body violently flinched while she woke up from her same recurring nightmare. “Ahh! Caitlyn!”

She rolled off the bed and allowed the cold floors to wake her up. “Ugh,” she groaned as she slapped against the hard floors. “Fuck you,” Vi hugged it, needing to feel grounded from these nightmares. 

Ever since that strange shadow encounter, Vi’s been seeing Nathar in passing. Still an angry ghost of her past that would mock her, berate her, tease her and beat her as though she’ll always be beneath him. He played on every single one of Vi’s insecurities that would play out over and over. Her hatred of her own body (gods, even staring at it!), being a woman in a man’s world—and losing Caitlyn to Nathar all over again. Her brother was dead, but she was still staring the demon in the eyes. Provoking her every night. 

Every fucking night Nathar’s ghost still terrorized Vi, even in his death,

Perhaps those stories were real and this castle is haunted after the Battle of Blue Stronghold. Their spirits never left.

“Damn you, asshole,” Vi cried, hating herself for crying. “I’ll fucking kill you myself. I’ll kill you. I would’ve killed you slowly if you married Caitlyn and treated her this way! Fuck youuuu!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. 

 Vi could’ve sworn she heard his laughter. A sickening howl that whispered across every surface of her room. The same one he let out after he kicked her ass during one of their arguments and “spars”. Vi would fight until her body gave up, leaving Nathar standing over her. “You’re a pathetic excuse of a Stark. Dying in a war would be the only thing to impress father.”

Forever living in his shadow.

“I had you,” Vi whispered to herself. “I had you the last time we fought. I could’ve easily taken your life. I won. I beat you. I have Cait—,” she stopped herself. Caitlyn wasn’t a prize to win.

Wasn’t a body to conquer.

…and Nathar never touched her, (never fucked her) Vi’s mind went to.

Caitlyn’s a maiden, the princess had told Vi countless times that the fallen princess had passed from his fever on the night of their wedding. Never touched, never filled with another, and yet Vi was still afraid she’ll never live up to her brothers. Never able to give Caitlyn her non-existent seed. No daughters nor sons will be fathered by Lord Vi. She’ll never be the man that Caitlyn surely needed. 

Both in life and in pleasure.

Vi groaned as she slowly rose to hands and knees. She sat back and lifted her shirt, running her fingers over the scars still there. And the new one from that dream. Vi frowned and let it go. It must’ve been from a fight she doesn’t remember. She checked the balcony and her blade was still there, untouched and unmoved. It was surely a dream. Vi leaned against it and stared out at the great lands of the Great Plains. Still asleep. 

It was still too early to rise. She was getting married in two days and Vi felt sick with love and felt nauseous with anxiety. Will Vi be able to love Caitlyn as the princess deserved? Sneaking away to private gardens to kiss for endless hours was far different than consummating a marriage. Vi wanted Caitlyn, surely. That wasn’t a lie, and gods the way Caitlyn wanted her felt—unreal. Vi needed to focus on that instead of her dead brother.

“What a fucking mood killer,” Vi hissed,

She quietly left her room and wandered down the hall towards the servants and other handmaidens. Past Lady Mel’s and Elora’s room. Vi stood in front of the door and knocked three times before waiting.

The door slowly opened and Roann peeked out. She wasn’t surprised to see Lord Vi standing outside, for the bastard had made several visits the previous nights. Roann stepped aside to let Vi in. 

Vi sat down on her usual stool. She looked down at her hands. Wondering how she should start this time. “Forgive me for coming here again, but I—,” she looked at her hands, briefly looking between her legs where she’s been dreaming of having a cock there. “Just didn’t want to be alone. Bad dream,”

The handmaiden mutely nodded. Still in her sleep gown and her hair up in those northern styles, Vi was used to. Vi was comforted by the sight of hair… gods has she gone mad?

“Everything alright, Vi? You seem… unease,” Roann pointed out,

“I’m fine, just,” How does one bring up their dead brother that was once this handmaiden’s secret lover? Vi’s knee was bouncing, “Tell me again how Caitlyn expects me to—to please her. It’ll be like pleasing myself, right?”

Roann sat on the bed. She nodded while yawning, still trying to wake up. Her expression dropped, like she knew this isn’t what Vi came here to discuss. But she relented, “Yes, my lord, it’ll be like pleasing yourself.” She observed the quiet lord. “Though it doesn’t seem you have love making on your mind,” she boldly observed. 

“I don’t,” Vi looked down at her hands once more, then around the room. Checking for reflective surfaces. She found none. Vi breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been,” Her voice quivered at the start.

Roann sat up, appearing more awake around the nervous lord. “I won’t judge you, my lord. Have you and Caitlyn already bedded each other and you needed to—discuss some things?”

“We haven’t, though we get close every time, but I—,” Vi leaned on her knees, covering her face with her hands. It felt like a third hand reaching for her throat and Vi gasped and jerked away. Kicking the stool across. “Stop it!” She shouted. In the quick move she stumbled into the wall.

Roann’s eyes were wide in shock, completely unsure of what just happened. She slowly lifted a pillow and used it as a shield. She wisely remained quiet.

Vi blinked rapidly. She was sweating nervously. She didn’t like the look of fear on Roann’s face. “My lady, I am—I’m sorry. I’ve been having nightmares about—,” She wiped her face. “They’re just dreams, they’re nothing.” she whispered, more for herself. “They’re stupid dreams,”

Roann stiffly nodded, “I see, my lord. Perhaps you should return to bed rather than fight the demons in my furniture?” She weakly smiled, hoping to destress the lord.

It helped a little. 

Vi accepted the strange caution from Roann as a valid reaction to her insanity. “Goodnight, Roann,” She got and began crossing the small room to retrieve the stool she kicked.

“Leave it, Violet,” Roann softly commanded. “Go and sleep. You have busy days before you. Sneaking away to a former friend’s room in the middle of the night won’t offer the rest you clearly need.”

Vi felt rightfully scolded. “Yeah, you’re right,”

Roann’s expression softened. “And perhaps visit a Maester, my lord? You don’t want an illness to befall you on the night of your wedding. The princess will be—utterly distraught if so. Please, take care of yourself,”

Vi nodded and left. She internally scolded herself. Caitlyn held fears that she shared with Vi, that the bastard wouldn’t survive a marriage with her. A curse,

…and here she was—going mad with lunacy and visions of a man that was hardly a brother. 

Who needs enemies with family like hers?

Vi could’ve killed him.

She repeated that over and over as she walked back to her room. Past the same guards that never moved a muscle. And back into her bed. Vi ripped off her night shirt, laying bare chest under the sheets, because it was her choice to.

“You plan to step down. Why?” Mel was sitting across from the Princess at their final council meeting. “...Your Grace, why now when our countrymen are preparing for Winter. Our bannermen have recently returned home from the north and the battles on the Narrow Sea. Now’s not the time to exchange leadership. You need to remain on the throne, Your Grace,”

Final one before Caitlyn claims the throne and is rightfully crowned Queen of the Plains. The princess in question was abnormally quiet. Staring at the same wolf figurine in her hands. 

Cassandra wasn’t far different. Though never sharing full despondency as the queen. Cassandra held her head up, “The crown was never meant to be mine. I was the last born daughter of 10 or more sisters. She was meant for the throne. Not I,”

Caitlyn was now glaring at the wolf. 

The queen rubbed the jewelry around her neck. “...we wouldn’t announce the coronation until after their wedding. Allow them time to be themselves before they’re announced as Queen Caitlyn Kiramman and her King consort Lord Violet Kiramman.”

Mel sat back and sighed. “Your Grace, in this time of rebellions from the south and the north, I plead with you, remain on the throne—unless you are fatally ill. The princess can wait to earn her crown,”

Caitlyn placed the wolf on the table and sat back as well. Still saying nothing. Knowing her mother’s decision was already made. 

Counselor Salo leaned forward, “She’s right. Perhaps a few more years, Your Grace, to step down. With House Baratheon and Robert’s Rebellion on the rise, a change is not very wise at this time. I urge you to rethink this matter.”

Caitlyn refused to give the Queen her attention. It was always going to come this way. 

Her mother was not meant to be queen, but neither was it permitted for the Queen to step down. Especially during a war with the south, and a rising dispute with House Stark and their bannermen. Cassandra had already been secretly preparing Caitlyn. She was going to step down whether or not the council agreed. It would be a queen’s law. Undisputable. 

And perhaps in some eyes, unforgivable.

Caitlyn wasn’t ready, yet she was. 

Caitlyn only wanted to marry Lord Vi and live freely. Not quite as a commoner, but the weight of the crown was heavier than she anticipated. And she hadn’t been crowned yet.

The council became bold.

Lord Heim from House Dinger leaned forward. “I will say what’s on everyone’s mind,” he looked to the queen. “Your Grace, as noble as keeping loyalties and promises are to House Stark—,”

Caitlyn knew where he was going with this,

Even Cassandra anticipated it, “An heir for my heir, my lord?”

Lord Heim stiffly nodded, “House Kiramman would fall without a princess,”

Lady Mel abruptly stood up to defend Cassandra’s honor. “Watch your tongue, my Lord, Her Grace is merciful to allow you to speak such nonsense…”

They went back and forth. Even the other lords and counselors began raising their voices. Lord Jayce was a newer member, not allowed to sit at the table, but allowed in the room. He smiled weakly in Caitlyn’s direction. Offering a friendly comfort. But Caitlyn’s attention was still on the direwolf figurine. Still keeping Violet with her.

“...it will bring war to our gates!”

“How so, my lord! Do you not have faith in the Queen?”

“My faith will remain strong if Her Grace remains on the throne!”

The voices were dull murmurs in the background.

Something about the wars of the North. The great houses are separating themselves in preparation for winter. Winter was nearly here, even so far south. 

Caitlyn held onto her stomach once again, thinking… praying… hoping… She would love to be a mother one day, but if she had to choose between Vi or motherhood? Well,

Feeling someone watching her, Caitlyn looked up where Lord Jayce was standing but one of the red priestesses was regarding her. As though reading her mind, Lady Sun smiled before looking away. 

Caitlyn flinched when her mother slammed her hands on the table. “What does the future queen have to say about all of this?”

All eyes were now on Caitlyn. 

She missed most of the meeting, but Caitlyn knew what this entire gathering was about. She faced her mother and whispered. “Long may she reign,”

…another prayer for her mother to remain on the throne. 

Cassandra’s expression fell, clearly disappointed in her daughter’s choice, but chose not to speak against it. 

“Do you think I should be crowned queen after we’re married?”

 Vi was walking Caitlyn from her council meeting. There was going to be another. A smaller gathering with the queen, the princess, and the future hand of the Queen: Lady Mel Medarda. 

The bastard looked pale, clearly lacking sleep among other things. “You’ll make a great and fair queen, my princess,” Vi answered.

This seemed to further frustrate Caitlyn. She let go of Vi’s arm, “That wasn’t my question. I know my worth as a leader. I’m only asking should it be so soon that I take the crown. You’ll be my King Consort—everything will be ours after marriage. The armies, our bannerman—,”

“I have armies from the north that will follow me now,” Vi whispered. She gave Caitlyn her space, but her thoughts were only on the princess. They slowed near an open courtyard. Beautiful in design. A map of Westeros was beneath them. 

Caitlyn glared at Vi, “Did you not hear my words?”

Vi blinked quickly and shook off the strange voice in head. “I am. Sorry, just a lil tired. But—,” the lord shrugged, “...what will my opinion matter versus the queen’s? You’ve told me she plans to crown you only a year after our marriage. After we join our houses—you’ll be queen. You’ll be—,”

—with child… bearing my child, The voice spoke again.

Vi reached for Caitlyn’s hands, praying to every god she never believed in. “I can hardly wait to bend the knee to Queen Caitlyn,”

Caitlyn’s expression softened. “You won’t have to openly pledge your name, since we’ll be married. And we’ll share a name. But, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to bring up with you—,”

It was hard to focus on Caitlyn’s words. They clearly meant something to the princess. But Vi had her mind on other things. Controlling her actions, leveling her thoughts of defiling the princess in the bedroom—making Caitlyn scream Vi’s name in worship and in pleasure.

“Violet?”

The use of her full name reared importance, deliberately bringing Vi back to their conversation. Vi was caressing Caitlyn’s face, not remembering when she initiated this touch.

Caitlyn was searching her eyes, “Where did you go just now?”

She’s so cute when she’s confused, The lord thought

“Are you even listening to me?”

Vi licked her lips, She’s so sexy when she’s angry, a second voice declared,

Vi pushed forward, roughly grabbing Caitlyn’s waist, leaning down to capture those halfway parted lips. Caitlyn gasped when her back hit the pillar. Opening her mouth for the Lord to taste and deepen their embrace. Vi licked inside her mouth, groping Caitlyn, holding her face steady. The surprised gasps from unexpecting ladies and amused chuckles from their lords only inspired Vi to keep going. 

Making out with her soon-to-be wife in the middle of the courtyard where anyone could see. 

Vi kissed down Caitlyn’s neck,

“Vi,” the princess gasped, tilting her head to the side, offering herself.

The Stark Lord sucked hard, elicited another unholy sound from Caitlyn.

Vi felt a strange warmth between her legs. 

That’s right, bastard, let me taste her again,

Caitlyn gasped in surprise at how quickly Vi pulled away. Cheeks flushed, eyes barely open, and a look of confusion. “Vi…?”

Vi was covering her mouth. “My princess,”

You feel it, I know you do. Your blood went to one place, Lord Bastard. The voice taunted, Do your pants feel tighter? Fuck her now and give us an heir,

“I have a—I’ve gotta go,” Vi walked away without even bothering to check on Caitlyn. “I’m sorry for—,”

Caitlyn’s handmaidens were already hovering and crowding her. Her cheeks were flushed, she was still gasping for air, and she appeared confused on Vi’s sudden departure.

Vi was speed walking back to her room. Nearly running now. She walked past several hanging banners that held reflective glass as protection. Nathar’s voice spoke up again. 

You’ve got that wolf in you, bastard, now’s your chance for glory!

Vi ignored him and ran to her room. Full on sprinting and afraid of what’s happening to her. 

You’ve claimed being a man would be easier,

She slammed the door shut and pressed herself against it. 

Give her our seed!

As though hoping it would keep out the ghost in her head. “Go away!”

You can’t get rid of me!

The young lord grabbed the closest mirror and slammed it on the ground. “You’re dead! Shut up!” Vi was in a fury, grabbing everything that vaguely acted as a mirror. Slamming them and breaking the glass. 

I’ve never left,

She was still afraid of the one she covered with a large sheet. 

I’ve always been here,

Ever since that one nightmare, the most recent one. Vi stood in front of the covered mirror and began punching it. “I’ll kill you!”

Face me you coward! The demonic voice screamed out, no longer sounding like her brother.

Vi was shouting and punching. Breaking glass and her skin in her fear and rage. She ripped the sheet off and screamed. “I’ll kill you, Nathar!”

But it was her own reflection staring back. Vi looked amused with herself, “Nathar? Whoever said I was him? You can’t kill me. I am you,”

Vi stumbled back from the mirror, nearly tripping in her haste, “What the fuck is wrong with me?” She stumbled towards the room with her weapons. She grabbed the blade Sevika gifted her and unsheathed it. Vi ripped her shirt open and stared at the strange mark on her stomach. “You’re not me!”

Do it! Release me.

Vi didn’t hesitate to bring down the blade.

“...Vi!”

Vi flinched when a hand caught her wrist. Hands, two of them, struggling to yank the lord’s arm aside.Vi hissed in pain when the woman twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the blade.

“What is going on here!”

The bastard was panting, as though physically brawling the voice in her head. Vi hesitated to look up, embarrassed by her behavior, ashamed of her current and previous actions with the Princess. She had gotten closer to the lady, surely revealing what had happened wouldn’t cause harm?

Vi slowly looked up towards Lady Mel Medarda, “I think I’m dying,” She sweating now, “I think I’m dying of the same illness my brother had,”

Mel looked around the room that was in disarray, “I promise you, my lord,” she bent down to pick up the fallen dagger. She stood in front of Vi, looking up at the lord while gently placing the blade in Vi’s hand. “What your brother died from was quite—unique,”

Vi nodded but didn’t relax. “Do I still look like a woman to you?”

The strange question didn’t seem to bother Mel. “Are you not a woman, my lord?”

“I don’t know anymore,”

Mel reached forward, pressing the back of her hand against Vi’s cheek. “You’re not feverish, just clammy,”

Mel shook her head to whoever was standing behind Vi.

The lord slowly turned around and grimaced when she saw several worried handmaidens and two guards standing by… looking around for an intruder. Vi didn’t know how to bring up what happened, she simply shrugged, “I hate mirrors,”

One handmaiden balked, “No shit,” 

An older one smacked her head, “Behave!” she looked around the room, “We’ll take care of this, my lord,”

~~~

Vi was now wearing a leather doublet and walking alongside Lady Mel and her handmaidens, which included Elora.

A tight group of friends that were very close with the Princess, “You’re going to tell Caitlyn what happened back there, huh?”

Mel hummed, “I’ll leave no detail out as well,”

Vi accepted that.

“But those retellings should come from you. Don’t start your marriage under secrets, my Lord,”

The northern lord knew that. Mel was leading Vi towards a part of the castle she’s never seen before. More servants were present here, less great houses and their lords. It brought a certain comfort for Vi. She didn’t want to revisit how she behaved with Caitlyn. Treating the princess like a whore to publicly mount?

Something her brother would do, not Vi.

“Your marriage is in a few days,” Mel quietly began, “...it’s a life changing event. Perhaps your nerves and other fears about being united with Caitlyn are surfacing?”

“No,” Vi immediately replied. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to marry her. She’s perfect,”

“And you aren’t?”

“No, I’m not,” Vi conceded to every inner hatred she held for herself. 

Holding herself to a higher standard for the perfect and beautiful princess. 

“I don’t assume the princess is after perfection. Just you,” Mel led them down a narrow hall and opened the door at the end. 

A servant’s kitchen? Vi stepped through and looked around. Enjoying being ignored by the handmaidens and cooks. The wine bearers and the young children running to and fro to fill empty chalices in the Great Hall. Clearly, Lady Mel and perhaps even Princess Caitlyn come down here to unwind and be invisible to their titles. They were sitting at one of the small tables shoved to the corner of the room. Mel handed a woman a bag of herbs, and she quickly began brewing it for them. 

Mel was bringing up how she grew up here. How Vi’s sister, Lady Powder, would wander the halls and end up in this very kitchen snacking on the treats the bakers would share with her. Vi remained quiet, just listening and learning about Caitlyn’s best friend. 

The lady was beautiful as she was kind. Wise and knowledgeable on every house and every person living in it. A great Hand of the Queen she’ll be once Caitlyn is crowned. But Vi grew up around liars as well. She knew a spy when she saw one. The bastard smiled to herself. She was glad Caitlyn had someone like Mel in her life. 

To protect Caitlyn from Vi—if it ever came to it.

Mel leaned forward, “Do you feel comfortable speaking about earlier?”

Vi stared down at the old table. She used to eat at tables like this one. Away from the wandering eyes trying to spy Lord Stark’s bastard. “I don’t know,”

“Speak now, my lord, trying to kill yourself before your wedding is not something I take lightly. Especially when it comes to Caitlyn,”

Vi’s attention snapped towards Mel, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” she quickly argued, 

Mel arched her brow, “Then what happened? A fine warrior like yourself fighting invisible creatures in your room—,”

Dammit, Roann said something,

Vi sighed loudly. “I don’t know how to explain it,”

“Do your best?”

Vi glared at those words, but relented. “Did you know my brother well?”

“I wish I hadn’t,” Mel answered honestly, “No offense, Vi,”

Simple words brought a small grin to Vi’s face. “You and me both,”

“What about Lord Nathar?”

Vi swallowed thickly and thought to hell of it, “I’ve been having nightmares about him. That he's living my life now. That he’s me, inside of me—like literally, and he’s going to marry Caitlyn.”

Mel remained impassive, but the gears were spinning,

Vi slowly inhaled, “A week ago after our dance practice, I went to visit Caitlyn—give her a kiss goodnight. You know, but—nothing else happened. When I returned to my room I was attacked by—a shadow of wolfman—I don’t fucking know, but,” Vi covered her face at the ridiculousness of this retelling, “I think it’s my brother’s ghost still living in these walls… saying these stupid things,”

“What kinds of things?” Mel gently inquired,

Vi’s face was still covered, “Stupid things I should’ve never told him. When we were kids I confided in him about—myself and things I never told anyone else. No one knows about them. Not even little Powder,” Vi slowly lowered her hands, appearing regretful, “...not even Caitlyn. This fucking creature is in me, this voice in my head is repeating them over and over. Like it’s him still beating me. As though we’re still children but we’re not.” 

The lord’s eyes were wild with apprehension. “What if this is my punishment for the things I did for my uncle? Perhaps I’m no different than Nathar. I’ve killed people, I’ve tortured them into giving us information—I’m not perfect, but I know Caitlyn is. I’m not good enough for her. She should’ve been with a man who will give her daughters… fuck me,”

Mel mulled over the strange explanation and tried to put the pieces together. Like a puzzle that were all the same color and shape; with little to no instructions on how to proceed once all the pieces were in place. Clearly, Vi was upset about something. Mel had no siblings growing up. She only had Caitlyn and Elora, who were like her sisters in a way—though through their adolescent growth, they definitely didn’t behave as sisters do. And no Targaryen blood ran through theirs. 

Seven hells, The lady thought, while reaching across the table but not quite touching Vi. “He weaponized your insecurities,”

Vi was thinking over everything then slowly nodded, “He did,”

Mel pressed her lips together, gathering her thoughts on how to—, rip off the bandage of clarity. “Your brother’s dead, my lord,” she began, “He’s not here nor is he with you. He’s buried in Winterfell alongside his brother. Nathar cannot harm you anymore. But you have to let him go. You’re clearly carrying him with you. You may say that you only dream of marrying Caitlyn, and I believe you. I know an honest—person when I see one.”

Vi slowly looked up, “But…”

“Do you really wish you were a man, Lord Violet?”

Vi opened her mouth to respond,

“...or do you wish to provide the way only a man could?”

Ouch, Vi thought, but she was grateful for the forward approach. It forced the young, self-named Lord to think about it. “I love Caitlyn with my entire being, but—,”

Mel leaned forward, “But?”

Vi swallowed hard, “This wedding, our union isn’t strange to you? Princess Caitlyn is the only heir for the Queen, and—I don’t have a cock to impregnate Caitlyn. Forgive my harsh language, my lady, but I have no seed to spill for the princess.”

Mel desperately tried to fight back a laugh, but a small chuckle escaped her. “It is strange, I’ll be honest, my lord. But, you don’t need to be a man to give Caitlyn what she desires.”

“Then how will I give Caitlyn an heir?”

“Faith,” Mel whispered, “Just have faith in the gods. They will not let you down. I know the Queen is an advent believer in prayer. Her faith in you perhaps restored my faith in the Seven.”

If Vi could be more obvious how much she hated that answer, “Some crock of shit, my lady.”

The cook brought them both their steaming cups and left just as quickly. 

Mel quickly reached for hers and gently blew on the scalding liquid.

Vi was a little bit more apprehensive. “What’s this?”

“Moon tea,” Mel answered while smirking. She took a delicate sip then another,

Vi glared at her. “I’m not fucking pregnant.” She enunciated every word with venom.

But it only further amused Mel. “It’s not strictly for you, my lord. Lord Jayce and I have been—adventurous after our dances. And I don’t plan on marrying anytime soon. House Medarda’s reputation is on the line. ”

Vi slowly blinked, but accepted the answer. “Okay, you drinking it, I understand. But why me?”

“To relax, Vi,” Mel simply stated. She motioned for the young lord to drink the special brew, “Do you not trust me?”

Vi looked down at the steaming cup. “Something tells me—if I say I don’t trust you that you’ll find satisfaction knowing it,”

Mel smirked. “Such a pirate at heart, my goodness.” she reached forward and grabbed Vi’s cup, sliding it towards her own. “More for me then,”

Vi didn’t like that. So she grabbed her cup and chugged the scalding liquid in a single gulp. She flinched and grimaced when she slammed the cup on the table. “That is fucking disgusting!”

Vi smiled at Mel’s airy laughter. Such a genuine sound from a secretive lady.

Mel wiped the tears in her eyes, “Goodness, have you never heard of Moon Tea?”

Vi shrugged and smirked, “Apparently not, since I was born,”

Mel’s eyes widened at the dark joke. “Lord Violet!”

The two of them slowly walked back towards the council room, a place Vi still wasn’t allowed in. 

Vi seemed more at peace with her demons. Having spoken about them, even though she never shared the details of it all. It felt good to get it out. 

Mel noticed, “You know the princess isn’t as perfect as you claim her to be.”

Lord Vi had her hands behind her back while she walked with the lady. “She could skin a man in front of me and I’d still find her perfect.”

Mel chose not to comment on that strange example. “I mean, aside from saying Caitlyn’s never killed a man—because that would be a lie—the Princess has her own insecurities,”

Vi slowed to a stop and wisely listened.

“She has her own demons she’s trying to escape with this marriage. Don’t make her carry the mental load for the both of you. If you wish to be a good spouse so badly, then step and carry her burden with her,”

Vi took everything to heart. “So the shadow thing and Nathar is just—me hating myself?”

Mel bowed her head, “Don’t dwell on those strange nightmares. Look to the future with your princess. Take a rest, my lord, you clearly need it,”

Vi reached down to kiss Mel’s hand before quickly retreating to her room once again. 

Mel’s countenance darkened.

Her attention snapped towards the dark corridor and walked briskly towards the woman watching them. The red priestess smiled as Mel grabbed her neck and slammed her against the wall. The nearby guards said nothing. Choosing to walk away. 

Mel snarled, “You did this to her, didn’t you? Fucking blood magics do not belong in the north! I knew something happened here!”

Lady Sun smirked. “While I would revel in the knowledge of being such a powerful being, it was not I this time,”

“What did you do to Vi?”

Lady Sun’s face was turning red. “Helped the northern lord gain her courage to bed the princess,”

Mel tightened her hold. “I hardly think that was ever an issue. Everyone’s seen them. Could hardly keep their hands off one another.”

The priestess’s expression felt insidious. “Hands mean nothing, when the queen requires an heir. The seed will take, my lady,”

Mel’s eyes narrowed. She knew what the priestess was speaking about. “You all plan on having Lord Vi carrying the seed or provide it? The baby that Rivers gave birth to? I know about it. Where did it flee to?”

The priestess said nothing,

Mel was now using both hands. She was shaking with anger. “I could snap your neck now. Answer me!”

“What will the queen think?”

“Nothing for a witch that committed heresy.”

“We aren’t witches,”

Mel let go and glared at the woman. “Blood magic does not belong to your kind. Stare into the fires all you want. But delve into the dark and unforgivable magics? Heresy! You’ve been a nightmare to grow up around, do you know that?”

Lady Sun slowly smiled. “I don’t believe I remember you as a child. Remind me,”

Mel slowly let go, knowing the priestess was only mocking her. “If Lord Vi is harmed—,”

“That will never happen, my lady,” Lady Sun straightened herself, unbothered by the attack. “She belongs to the queen,”

Mel glared at the woman and stepped aside, allowing the lady to leave. 

She glared after the priestess. 

Even one of her loyal guards approached her with, “Should I follow her?”

Mel continued to glare but shook her head. “No. The queen is watching her. And probably all of us. Leave her be. Watch Lord Stark and Princess Caitlyn instead,” she whispered. “The queen delved into a magic that will crave a life.”

Only death may pay for life, she thought while quickly walking away.

The White Wedding

Perhaps the tea did help,

Vi slept soundly and only dreamed of—snow and ash.

Though the strange visions of Nathar haunted her, they were clearly now behind her. 

Vi woke up early this morning. Before the morning star, and before the announcement from the crows and other birds. No handmaiden had to wake her up on the day of her wedding.The young lord prayed for her family name while she alone walked through the gardens, past the gates that led to the common folk. Vi looked and smiled at the gods blessing. The clouds were dark with storms, and the morning chill barely bothered her. Vi held out her hand and smiled at the first flakes of snow to fall on her. 

Winter was here. 

And Vi was surely a child of Snow. 

Vi ran through the small flakes that fell. Melted as soon as they hit the ground but it didn’t matter. Winter was here! And she was going to be married on this day. Vi didn't believe in the new gods, barely in the old gods, but she saw this as a blessing. Her winterborn eyes proved what season she was a child of. She barely felt the cold and Vi reveled in the fallen snow. 

“Lord Vi!” She heard Roann call out,

Vi sighed, but she was prepared and happy. 

The handmaiden was shivering in the morning breeze. “You need to shower!”

Vi relented and ran towards her childhood friend. Scooping up the handmaiden with ease. Ignoring the surprised yelp and shouting. “I’m getting married!”

Roann would’ve smiled with the lord if she hadn’t felt so damn cold!

Caitlyn closed her eyes as she stepped into the shower. The bucket of heated water opened and the spout sprinkled the hot spray. 

This was new to the princess. Used to the bath and being bathed by her handmaidens. At least Elora was there to help wash her hair. Caitlyn was nervous, she didn’t know why, but when Elora showed up with her dress everything fell real. The princess allowed them to dress her and do her hair.

Queen Cassandra was saying a quiet prayer in her private room.

King Consort Tobias hugged her from behind. Kissing her crown. “You look so beautiful,”

Cassandra shed more tears from that confession. She held onto the same jewelry around her neck. She turned around in Tobias’s arms and buried her tears in them. 

Tobias smiled in assurance. “All will be well, my love,”

“Will it?”

“I know it will,”

Vi never thought of herself as a lord until recently,

Though not quite as a prince either. 

But as she sat still, and allowed the handmaidens to place the Prince’s crown on her head. Her crown of red hair—dark pink for most—Vi knew she made the right choice of title. She knew she was a woman in body, but being revered as a lord felt… important. 

Vi stood before a brand new mirror and regarded herself.

In her glimmering doublet with the cape around one shoulder, her fancy pants and freshly shined boots, Vi felt like a prince as a highborn should. 

Roann stepped forward. “Are you ready, my lord?”

Vi smiled at herself. “I am,”

Caitlyn wished she downed a few glasses of wine to calm her nerves,

She was not ready for this. Not that she regretted being married. But the expectations behind this wedding weighed heavily on her mind. But when Vi rounded the final hall, the young Stark Lord smiled so brightly, the very tension in Caitlyn’s shoulders melted. 

Unbecoming of a future prince, Vi ran the rest of the way towards Caitlyn. 

Caitlyn’s body was prepared for the impact. The embrace, the kiss, and the hug. All her troubles melted with Vi’s touch. “My love,” she whispered into Vi’s mouth.

Lord Vi smiled into it. “I’m here, my princess, and I will always be here,”

Caitlyn exhaled, melting into Vi’s arms.

“...and you look incredibly beautiful,” Vi whispered 

No amount of preparations and rehearsals could have prepared Lord Violet for her own wedding, 

The sheer amount of witnesses in the cathedral seemed endless. They walked arm in arm down the aisle everyone stood up in honor of the Princess and the Queen. 

Vi felt anxious, but when she felt Caitlyn’s shiver, she covered Caitlyn’s hand with her own. Caitlyn has her own fears just as Vi does. She lifted her hand and kissed it, letting the princess know she’s still here for her. Caitlyn instantly calmed, smiling gratefully and together they climbed the steps after the Queen. The same ones Caitlyn had kneeled at and prayed for Vi to return to her.  

Vi bowed and kneeled before Cassandra, remaining there while Caitlyn only had to curtsy. 

They recited their vows together, in honor of the Faith of the Seven. Vi rose to a stand and faced Caitlyn.

“I pronounce you Princess Caitlyn Kiramman and consort Lord Vi, newest member of House Kiramman,” The priest nodded, “You may kiss,”

Vi gasped when Caitlyn almost aggressively held her wife’s face, tiptoeing to press a nice and hard kiss.

“First day of Winter and we welcome it with a beautiful wedding!” Lord Jayce shouted while raising his glass of wine. 

They were now gathered in the Great Hall for the meal and dances. Vi and Caitlyn sat at the head of the table, both wearing their own crowns. Caitlyn’s hair was decorated in fine jewelry, woven into her braids and fancy twists. She wore a tiara that was handed down from her aunt. Vi wore a prince’s crown. Custom molded and forged to fit comfortably on her bed of thick hair. Vi couldn’t keep her eyes off her wife.

WIFE

Caitlyn wasn’t any different. Looking over to make sure Vi was still there—alive, healthy, and well. 

Her wedding gown reflected her previous widow title. 

The majestic Kiramman blue that faded into a black. As though the darkness was dripping away from the dress. Showing that Princess Caitlyn was now remarried. 

“...may the gods bless your wedding and marriage!” Jayce continued his speech, “But also,”

Several lords seemed to know where this speech was headed. Already standing up and clapping while their wives rolled their eyes. 

“...may they bless your wedding night as you consummate your marriage!”

Vi’s eyes widened in shock, but she laughed with everyone else. 

Caitlyn didn’t seem too surprised by the openness of it all. Must be a southern tradition. She leaned in to whisper in Vi’s ear. “House Blackwood used to have a tradition where they would have witnesses in the bedroom during the consummating events,”

Vi chuckled quietly, “Wait, really?”

Caitlyn hummed, “Mhm, some say they used to be ongoing until the queen was with child,”

“I think I’ll perform poorly if I’m being watched like a spectacle.”

“Vi,” 

“Or they’ll always be waiting for my squirt of seed,”

Caitlyn playfully pushed Vi, “Violet!”

Vi winked and leaned down to kiss Caitlyn, “That’s Prince Vi, Your Grace,”

Caitlyn sighed into the kiss. “I’m not a queen yet, my love,”

“But I’ll be kneeling for you tonight,”

Caitlyn had to pull away, letting out a shaky breath. “Gods be gracious,” she prayed quietly. 

The red priestess was leaning against the wine table while she watched the young prince dance with her new bride.

All the highborn danced in unison to the elegant music. A string quartet playing an upbeat melody. The clash of cymbals reverberated like a clash of swords. Vi easily lifted Caitlyn in that practiced twirl. The song came to an end, and a few lords stepped in, bowing in Vi’s direction and asking for Caitlyn’s hand in a dance.

The princess accepted, and the lord didn’t seem to mind.

Preferring to take a break from the gathering. 

Lady Sun held up a glass of wine, “Congratulations, my prince, may the Lord of Light bless—,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vi ignored the offered wine and chose to grab her own. “I don’t believe in the Lord of Light. No offense, my lady,”

The priestess wasn’t bothered by that. “Well He believes in you and all the things you can accomplish in his name,” she held up the glass once again, “I mean no harm, my lord. I’ve always been an ally,”

Vi took a huge gulp of her wine and hesitated. “Were you the one who—,” she stopped herself and her head.

Lady Sun arched her brow, “Was I the one who, what?”

“Forget about it. It’s not important,”

“I agree,” The priestess stated, “Your wife should be your priority for the evening. I’ll drink to that, my lord,”

Vi looked down at the chaliced and thought to hell with it and clinked their glasses together. A small version of the same shadow crawled from Lady Sun’s cup into Vi’s. The lord didn’t notice and chugged the rest of her wine.

The red priestess smiled, “You were missing a piece of yourself, my lord. I’ll fix that for you,”

Vi’s eyes dilated and her expression softened. The rising anxiety immediately shifted into silence. Her mind instantly quieted… but Vi’s heartbeat pounded in her chest. “Forgive me, my lady, I have to go,”

The priestess waved her off. 

There was a pulse in her ear. Her own. 

Vi politely made her way through the crowds of dancing highborns. She declined and ignored the ladies requesting for a dance with the new prince. Caitlyn could see Vi heading straight towards her. And she quickly stepped away from her dance partner and prepared herself for Vi.

“Vi—,”

The crowned bastard silenced Caitlyn with an open mouth kiss. Everyone around them disappeared from her mind. Vi only felt and heard Caitlyn. She felt more like herself in these moments than when she first began having those strange dreams. 

Caitlyn’s moan while she slightly pulled away was enough for Vi to nearly combust on the spot. “Make love to me, Violet,” She whispered softly, only loud enough for Vi to hear. Before reaching up to pull Vi into another kiss.

The young lord swallowed back her nerves.

Vi could skin a boar with a knife carved from stone. 

She could fight any man of any size in a fair fight with their fists, (Vi may not win every time) but she could do it. Vi could use the stars in the middle of the storms and guide fleets across the Narrow Sea. Vi’s even tortured a few spies to get information out of them. Ride a horse while fighting off 3 men. Jump through fire to save her uncle. Speak to animals through her dreams. Became a lord who would marry the most valuable and sought after princess in Westeros,

…and yet,

Vi had no idea what to do from here.

Their kisses became deeper. Encouraged by everyone in the Great Hall. Vi felt good with the wines. Kept her body loose and her mind only on Caitlyn. Vi wondered if there was a line they crossed when Caitlyn whimpered (which was drowned by the loud music) and pulled away.

“I want you,” The princess spoke against Vi’s warm cheek. “Take me to bed. Now.”

Vi nodded. Best to consummate their marriage. That’s what's expected, right? She looked around the room, hoping to find the Queen. 

…to ask permission to fuck her daughter?

No. Vi shook her head. Make love.

Suppose Vi’s already earned that blessing through their arranged marriage?

But she did spot the queen. Cassandra was clearly entertained by the show they put on. Smirking and whispering to her husband. A slight flick of her wrist to urge them away, was all Vi needed. 

She grabbed Caitlyn's hand and led her out of the Great Hall.

Vi should have let Roann explain more about what happens after this part.

Instead the “prince” stood awkwardly in the main room while Roann and a few other handmaidens helped Caitlyn out of her wedding gown. Best to keep the gown intact and not torn to shred by eager or impatient hands. 

Roann stepped out of the bedroom first.

She looked much happier in her old title as handmaiden. Perhaps some things aren’t meant to change. 

“She’ll be ready in a moment. The others are doing a quick scrub.” Roann nodded towards Vi’s clothes. “Did you need help with—”

“No.” was Vi’s quick interjection. 

Roann refrained from rolling her eyes. “I meant with your buttons. I’m not going to help you unclothe. That’s for the Princess.”

“Oh.” Vi smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Your clothes, Caitlyn can rip apart with her teeth if she so chooses, but her wedding gown? Untouchable.” It was nice to see Roann smile carefree. “Was there anything else, my lord?”

Vi wished there was something she needed help with, but, “No, thank you, Roann. I’ll be fine.”

Roann nodded. “Remember what I told you.”

“I will.”

The last of the handmaidens quickly left and all that was left was Vi to her thoughts—alone in Caitlyn’s room.

“Vi! Come here!”

Vi nearly tripped in her rush to heed Caitlyn’s quiet command. 

The bastard was grinning when she saw Caitlyn at the edge of the bed—dressed in a sheer nightgown. Hair down… flowing in a way Vi’s never seen before. It made Vi falter at the sight. Caitlyn was without makeup, or fancy braids and other hairstyles. No chic appearing clothing with jewels sewn into every overlap. Nothing. 

Caitlyn’s skin was clean, slightly flushed from the wine, with hair down to her waist. Without blemish or any scar. The nightgown had to have been put together just for this night. Caitlyn prefers cotton, but here the princess wore a sheer silk gown that dared to show off her bare shoulders. A bold choice, clearly designed to seduce a king. A husband. A prince,

Vi.

And Vi was surely captured. This was the real princess. 

Vi felt like an abomination standing there in front of something so beautiful and so pure. Her fingers shook as she quickly undid the horn-like buttons on her cape and doublet. Only three and shook off the heavy shirt. Vi stopped there. Realizing all she had was her tunic, her wraps, then all of herself. She thought of her nightmares. Vi’s body wasn’t worth seeing. Not for a princess, at least. But Caitlyn had already told Vi she could hardly wait to see the bastard.

Caitlyn stood and held out her hand. Silently beckoning her wife. “Come here.”

Vi did. Crossing the room with strong yet timid strides until she stood in front of her bride. 

Caitlyn took one of Vi’s hands and placed it on her hip. “You can touch me now. As you want. Touch everything you want. It’s yours.”

Vi swallowed away her nerves as she gently squeezed Caitlyn’s hip. “Gods, are you so beautiful, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn let out a pleasant noise and pulled Vi into a soft kiss. A tender one. Lips barely caressing each other. Dancing and whispering. Used to calm Vi’s pounding heart. “I love you, Vi.”

Vi smiled into the kiss before deepening the embrace. Parting Caitlyn’s lips with her tongue. Giving the princess something to suck on while Vi began to lift the gown. They had to pull away as Vi gently tugged the gown up and completely off the princess.

Caitlyn and Vi quietly stared into each other’s eyes. 

Only the faint crackling of fire from the main room could be heard.

Then Caitlyn inhaled sharply as Vi dropped to her knees. Eyes clenched shut while the young Lord simply held onto Caitlyn's naked body. 

Caitlyn looked down, aware, and fondly held onto Vi. “It’s okay. You can look at me.”

“Gods.” Vi whimpered, pressing her face against Caitlyn’s belly. She kissed the warm skin there. Smiling when the muscles ripped with the princess’s giggle. Vi slowly looked up and marveled. “You’re the greatest gift I’ve ever unwrapped. You have no idea how much I love you—how much I want you.”

Caitlyn tugged on Vi’s hair. “Then show me. Enjoy me. Have me. Love me, Violet.”

Vi rubbed her face on Caitlyn’s dark curls before pressing a kiss to the lower lips. 

Caitlyn moaned loudly. “Vi,”

The lord listened, rising to her feet and lifting Caitlyn in her arms. Vi’s hands were greedy. Grabbing Caitlyn’s butt and kneading the plump flesh. “I love you.”

Caitlyn pulled Vi into a deep kiss. 

Vi held onto Caitlyn as she knelt onto the bed and shuffled forward, before gently placing the princess in the middle of the pillows. Vi leaned back just enough to look down and take in everything that was all Caitlyn. The royal heir’s body was far too perfect to even imagine this. 

“Look at you.” Vi was smiling like a giddy child, finally able to see their favorite item. Her hands followed, but not quite touching the skin. Just hovering. 

Imaging,

Pretending,

Afraid to break something that was invaluable to Vi.

Caitlyn’s breasts lifted with every gasp.

Pale porcelain perfection.

Vi leaned down instead and trailed the skin with her mouth. Soft kisses placed on Caitlyn’s mouth, her chin, neck. Vi kissed and sucked for a moment before lowering. Between Caitlyn’s breasts. Nervous hands avoided them for now, but Vi kissed them. Even the nipples.

“Vi,” Caitlyn whimpered.

Vi smiled and went lower. “So perfect.”

Kissing Caitlyn’s stomach, here Vi finally touched. Pressing her palm flat against the quivery muscles and slid them down to strong thighs. 

As Vi was about to go even lower, Caitlyn spoke up. “Wait,”

Vi instantly stopped and looked up; chin resting on soft curls. “...yes?”

Caitlyn’s face was flushed deep red. Her hair was still perfect, but her breathing had quickened. 

There was a look in her eyes that Vi couldn't quite place. “Sorry, do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Caitlyn breathed out. She reached for Vi’s face, cupping it, and sat up. “I don’t know how to do this either, but,” she appeared mildly embarrassed and nodded to Vi’s clothes. “...I want to see you as well.”

Oh.

Vi pulled and knelt on the bed. “Yeah, lemme um,” She grabbed the low neckline of her tunic but froze. “I’ll just,” Vi got off the bed, standing at the edge and glared. “Sorry.”

Caitlyn frowned. “We don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Vi hated herself for behaving this way. “Caitlyn,” she began softly. “I don’t want anything more than to make you scream my name by the end of the night.”

A crass phrase, really.

But the way they both smiled and instantly relaxed, was something they both needed to hear.

“I’ll just,” Vi grabbed her tunic and ripped it off. 

Not Caitlyn’s teeth shredding her clothes, but Vi didn’t care. She’d planned on staying without clothes for the next few days. Vi turned around and cursed herself. The lord reached for her wraps and froze. 

Caitlyn, for her part, couldn’t stop staring. Unblinkingly admiring her wife. Perhaps now she understood Vi’s strange expression from earlier. Just pure body worship. Vi was so beautiful. The muscles. The swell and mark of strength in every curve and sharp indent caused Caitlyn to squeeze her legs together. The map of scars that reflected and told different stories of survival (perhaps, even defeat), but mainly—victories. Vi surely had the body of a warrior who won most of her battles, if not all of them. There was an elegance to the tattoos as well. Caitlyn wondered just how much there was.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut when she heard Caitlyn rise from the bed. “Cait,” Vi whispered.

“Can I touch you?” Caitlyn asked, sounding desperate.

“Yes,” was Vi’s equally desperate answer.

Vi inhaled sharply when Caitlyn pressed her body against hers.

Oh, this kind of touching.

Caitlyn held onto Vi’s arms for support. Lips kissing Vi’s strong back before reaching around for Vi’s pants. The princess blindly reached for the ties and loosened them before tugging them down. Vi was panting at this point. Being undressed by a lover was the experience. Caitlyn’s hands weren’t shy at all as the princess quickly touched Vi’s new exposed flesh. 

Vi moaned. “Caitlyn,”

Encouraged, Caitlyn continued. “I want to see all of you. As you are. Unchanged. A woman.” She whispered. “I love you, Violet. I fell in love knowing who you are, what you are. You don’t need to lose anything or gain anything. I love you. As you are.”

Vi reached for her wraps and ripped them off. It hurt at first. Finally freeing her breasts in the presence of another. On purpose and not a handmaiden walking in unannounced. Vi turned around and pulled Caitlyn into a kiss before leading them back to the bed. 

Caitlyn let out a guttural moan as their naked bodies finally touched. Pressed together. “Don’t stop touching me, please,”

Vi listened, her muscles tightened as she shifted on the bed, laying between Caitlyn’s legs. She reached between them but stopped. Waiting for permission,

The princess was panting by now, “Violet,” She cradled her wife’s face. “Touch me, please!”

Vi did,

Caitlyn’s eyes squeezed shut as Vi gently stroked her fingers through her lower lips. Explorative in her movements. Attentively observing Caitlyn’s reactions. 

The princess held onto Vi’s hard biceps for support when a finger slowly entered her, followed by another. 

“Gods!” Caitlyn whimpered, “Keep going! Yes… right there—oh fuck, Vi!”

Vi could finish just listening to Caitlyn be so verbal about her pleasures. Just feeling how the princess pulsed and squeezed her fingers brought a certain type of pleasure that was immeasurable. Even the times Vi touched herself while thinking of the princess—this just did not compare. 

A whole new world of bliss.

Vi used her hips to thrust behind her hand, guiding her fingers deeper and faster.

Caitlyn’s eyes opened when she felt Vi rocking into her. Her nails painfully dug into Vi’s arms. “If I say… harder—would you— ungh!”

Vi thrusted harder, leaning down to kiss those panting lips. Then she turned her attention to Caitlyn’s neck, sucking hard and hoping to leave a mark there. 

In the quietness of their first time as love making, Vi’s stomach began to glow. A small white shimmer that traveled up her body and down her arm where she was thrusting inside Caitlyn. The strange light lingered on Vi’s hand—as though waiting.

Vi’s thrusts became erratic. “Caitlyn! fuck—I think I’m gonna come too!” blinded by her desire to pleasure Caitlyn, Vi didn’t realize her own slick and rising inferno towards a precipice. 

The same one Caitlyn was quickly arriving towards. She heard Vi, but she was far too deep. Her entire body tensed… shaking, her inner walls clamped around Vi’s fingers. Pulsating around them. Vi’s never felt this before but she knew what had just happened.

Caitlyn's mouth hung open, “Vi!” She screamed while she erupted with tiny prickles of pleasure. 

A roaring river filled with only bliss filled her entire body. 

Vi leaned back to witness it all. “I love you,” she whispered, before closing her eyes and humped her own hand to a finish, “Ungh!”

The light erupted forwards, disappearing inside Caitlyn’s body. 

Caitlyn was still catching her breath. Smiling while Vi tried to kiss her, when her wife kissed down her body once again. This time, sucking on her breasts with an urgency. Vi flicked Caitlyn’s nipples with her tongue before covering them with her mouth and sucking hard. 

The noises these actions inspired from the princess were enough to encourage Vi to keep going. “I wanna taste you,”

Caitlyn heard and snapped her attention towards Vi. 

The lord was already settling between her legs, licking her lips while watching Caitlyn. Vi leaned down and licked a broad stroke on her cunt. Caitlyn gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my gods! Do that again!”

Her eyes rolled back as Vi did it again.

Vi loved the way Caitlyn’s breasts moved with her heavy breathing. Gods, will she never grow tired of seeing this. Vi reached up to fondle them while shoving her tongue inside her wife, tasting everything. Worshiping her wife… until death do them part,

Powder followed Bones up a hill towards what looked like an abandoned homestead. 

What she saw almost made her lose her stomach. 

Ekko was panting while he ran to catch up. He saw the scene before them and gagged, “What the fuck is this? What happened to these people?”

Powder slowly looked around and whispered. “Winter’s here… and so are the others,”

Chapter Text

Tell me a story,’ A young lady Powder asked Septa Mordane,

This was Vi’s first night spending time with all of her siblings. She hated every second of it. The thin air, the dull colors of brown and bleak and boring trees. Dirt was everywhere, or it would be the constant puddles of mud that would surely drive her insane. The young bastard shivered around the small fires. It wasn’t even winter, but Vi was eternally miserable. She hated the fucking cold. Who would ever choose to live in a place where one season could wipe entire generations in a single night?

The north was Vi’s own personal hell.

It didn’t help her situation that her older brother would constantly berate and belittle her. ‘You’re not a true northerner, bastard,’

Good. 

Vi never wanted to be one.

But Nathar found delight through her suffering, “Are you cold, bastard?” He was sitting across from her in the small courtyard with various sizes of fire pits. Mainly to cook meals, but on clear nights such as this one, they told stories to each other. 

Vi said nothing and continued to shiver. 

Nathar smirked. “I can help you with that. Here lemme just—,”

Powder reached for the Septa once again, “Tell me a story. A scary one,”

The Septa sat back and thought.