Prologue:
House Lonmouth was one of the most ancient houses in Westeros, however they were not one of the most noble.
Known for ruthless battle tactics and bloodlust, as well as their charms and romantic ties, they were a loyal house under the rule of House Baratheon.
The house believed in the freedom of the people. However, their justice system was almost feral, due to the belief that criminals should be punished by their own crimes.
However, this time was a happy time. A time for peace and celebration.
After eight years of marriage, two stillbirths, four miscarriages and two sons lost during infancy, a healthy baby girl was born to a love torn couple.
She was beautiful. Perfectly and unmistakeably beautiful.
The Lady Plio, born to House Lonmouth, came into the world as a fighter.
It was midnight, and outside was stormy. The view from her mothers window framed a wild sea and cliff faces that shined like mirrors in the lightning.
As she stood by the window, cradling her newborn, Sandrine Lonmouth looked out towards the sea. The isle of Estermont, usually visible, was hidden in fog and darkness.
Sandrine hummed to her daughter, her first born, as she lay sleeping in her arms. Her lord husband, Caelan, was announcing the birth of their firstborn to his brother.
Richard, the Lord of House Lonmouth, had long awaited the birth of a child fit to succeed his place. Having three sons of his own, he deemed all unfit as he believed in a long for told prophecy.
The prophecy told of an heir born fair as summer in the midst of a storm, would unite the kingdom alongside another born of fire and ice.
Lord Richard believed the heir would have blonde hair and blue eyes, and that they would not be born of his blood but by the blood of the true heir.
Caelan Lonmouth was his elder brother, but he had given up his right to the seat of House Lonmouth in return to marry a woman their parents deemed ill matched, despite her families wealth.
And now, it seemed Richard's premonitions proved true.
Plio Lonmouth was born with a fine spattering of blonde hair the colour of sunlight and eyes blue as the summer skies. Her skin was fair with a hint of gold and her peaceful, slumbering face as captivating as an ocean's breeze.
It was decided that, in order to become the heir which the prophecy told of, the babe would be sent to the families northern allies, House Stark, along with her parents. The choice was made in order to keep the girl safe.
Plio Lonmouth was hastily blessed by Maester Rydian before the family left in a carriage for Winterfell, after the nights storm had passed.
The journey was long and uncomfortable, with the weather growing colder the further north they travelled, but for the safety of their first and seemingly only child, it was worth it.
It was all worth it./pre