Well here it is! My first story! George R. R. Martin owns all. Enjoy!
Winter is coming…
The words grew heavier along with the chill in the air. Even inside of the carriage, tucked underneath piles of fur and silk, it was necessary to huddle into the deepest, warmest corner for comfort. Chattering teeth had become a common song since passing the Twins. All of the women shivered and blew heat into their hands, rubbing them together for friction. All save one.
Gazing out of the window of the carriage, the girl that was smart enough to abandon her silks for fur and leather daydreamt about how life in Winterfell was carried out. Oxen were turned out into the fields, men gathered their dogs for the hunt, and the women stirred heavy cauldrons full of food to sup on or sat around a fire stitching and gossiping.
The Northern people were strong and willful as iron, a tradition that dated back to the First Men. The biting cold was nothing when accustomed to hardship.
These people were also unquestionably loyal to both their lord and to the realm, an uncommon luxury from where she was reared, and she envied them.
She had not seen Winterfell in over four years. Her annual visits came to a sudden halt by order of her father, the king, with no explanation offered. Once the king gave a command, it was to be obeyed without question. Oh, how she had mourned the loss of her beloved friends. Writing letters and sending gifts was not the same as swordplay and running through the woods together.
But by some twist of fate, Winterfell was their destination now. On a particularly stormy day, her father had come to her chambers, interrupting her history lesson, and commanded her ladies to begin packing for a journey to Winterfell.
The princess knew why they were travelling. Jon Arryn was dead, the spot for Hand of the King left wide open, and the watering mouths of ambitious men were nipping at her father's heels.
There was only one person left other than herself that he trusted above all others, and it was Lord Eddard Stark, an old and cherished friend. She had known they fought together in the campaign against the Mad King, and she knew that her father had loved Lord Stark's sister. That story was as sad and romantic as one of those books the ladies of court liked to titter about.
"Ariana." The sound of her name brought her out of the lingering reverie.
She turned her gaze over to her step-mother, Queen Cersei. Their eyes met, and Ariana knew there was something unpleasant she was going to say.
"You needn't slouch like that, little dove. How else do you plan to impress the Stark brood?" Cersei's smile was gentle and pretty, but it was a façade. Oh, the queen was nothing if not beautiful. Only a blind fool would question the radiance of her golden hair and fair skin. And yet…and yet…
Snide thoughts swirled came to Ariana's mind, but she kept her face passive. She stared at Cersei's perfect skin and remembered the days of when she was a child.
….a young princess, who adored her father with everything she was, and he her. Her father, being king of all the land, was bound to take a wife after the war. He had insisted she needed a mother, and the people needed a queen. But what could she have known at that time? She had been but a babe who could not even yet hold up her own head.
And so came Cersei. How beautiful and perfect the frame stood. A powerful king and queen, a beautiful princess, a kingdom finally at peace. It could not, would not, last.
The death of the first infant…changed Cersei. She became resentful, hateful, and sometimes even violent toward the princess. Despite the successful birth of a son when Ariana was close to four summers, the queen held an insatiable desire to torment Ariana. It started with the stares filled to bursting of contempt and loathing, but Cersei was always testing the limits of what she could get away with.
Hands that were pretty as a painting but violent as a reaver, the queen was not who she pretended to be. Princess Ariana was only six years old when she 'fell' down a flight of steps at the Red Keep. Seventy-six steps from top to bottom, the girl tumbled down from stone to stone onto stone again. Her little body broke at the wrist and shoulder, a crack opened at the line of her scalp. She lay there for a time, unconscious.
When she finally came to, she found herself in her bed, blankets tucked under her chin and her arm wrapped and bound to her chest to keep still.
Her father sat next to the queen at her bedside, looks of relief and concern on their faces. He kissed her forehead, asking her what had happened to make her fall so.
Ariana wanted to tell him. Gods, it would have been so easy to end it right then. But she had chanced a glance at Cersei. The look on the queen's face said, 'if you tell him, you'll regret it.'
The look was enough to silence her, so she said nothing and looked away. King Robert stood to let the girl rest, but Cersei stayed behind, scooting closer in her chair to Ariana's bedside.
She cleared her throat and took Ariana's good hand. "I know what you are thinking, little dove. But you must rest and get strong ag-."
"I know it was you."
Cersei was taken aback by the interruption, the accusation. The girl was still not looking at her but snatched her hand away. Complacent and kind and quiet was the princess, this was very different from the Ariana of norm.
A silent moment passed before Ariana turned and gazed at Cersei, a bold and unwavering stare that was unlike anything Cersei had seen in the child.
"You are evil, a witch, and you will not hurt me anymore. I know it was you." Her tiny voice did not falter. "And when I grow up and get strong and become queen, I will punish you for what you did to me. This I swear to you, this I vow to you, by the old gods and the new. You may show yourself out now, Your Grace. I need to rest."
Cersei stared at her for a moment, an unreadable expression of her face, before rising and exiting the room.
When the latch clicked shut, Ariana cried herself to sleep. She prayed to the gods for strength, for comfort. Her young mind was so full and muddled with fear and confusion. She begged for a sign, a reprieve.
Her answer came in the form of a raven. An invitation for extended stay in the north. With the Stark family.
King Robert sent her to Winterfell a fortnight later and she stayed for the summer. One year became the next and soon grew to become a yearly tradition. Ariana was never more happy…and Cersei never touched her again.
Cersei was still a conniving, hateful being to the core, but she grew less and less open about it as Ariana grew older.
A product of a brief and tumultuous marriage between Robert and a Targaryen noble, one of the Mad King's cousins, Ariana was living proof that the Targaryen house had tried to quell the growing tension between the larger houses. As the Mad King's savagery increased, so did the impatience, the fear, and the anger in the lords of the lands.
The loveless marriage of Ariana's parents seemed to turn fortune in a positive direction, a drive toward peace among the houses once more. That was until Lyanna Stark was kidnapped and murdered by Rhaegar Targaryen, and the Mad King had Eddard Stark's brother and father butchered in the Throne Room of King's Landing. After that, there was truly no return.
The story always fascinated her in a disturbing way. Perhaps because Ariana knew her father had loved Lyanna as much as he could love any woman, and hearing him talk about her, the look in his eyes as he remembered her face, was enough to distract her from what he had done to her own mother.
His heartbreak had fueled his rage and his lust for the demise of House Targaryen. He had murdered Ariana's mother, his own wife, simply out of name. Bashed her skull in, kicked her corpse aside like rubbish, Robert Baratheon had finally lost his mind. Consumed and controlled by the desire for dragon's blood, he did not stop, would not stop, until every last one of them was dead.
Long ago, Ariana had accepted what her father had told her. How he had killed Rhaegar in the battle of the Trident, how he'd sacked King's Landing and executed any resisting Targaryen sympathizer, but most of all, she had accepted and forgiven him for murdering her mother.
A surprisingly easy thing to do, considering. But she had never gotten to meet the woman, didn't know much about her. Robert never once spoke ill of her and said she was a lovely woman, a perfect example of what a lady should be. Ariana knew she should feel despair or anger or something. She didn't, couldn't. How does one miss something that was never theirs?
Robert had become king once peace and order was restored in the realm. Ariana had only just started walking when she became the daughter of a usurper, the first of her name. King's Landing became her home, and she spent her days learning how to be a proper lady and getting into as much trouble as she could manage.
It was several years after her brother Joffrey had been born, and two years after her "fall", when she found big trouble in the back alleys of Flea Bottom. Men were dispatched all over King's Landing, looking for the missing princess. When she did not turn up near the Red Keep, they deepened their search, fanning out all the way from the Sept of Baelor to the crumbling Dragon Pit. The guards charged with the search for her grew more and more anxious as the sun rose higher and higher.
Passing through Flea Bottom, a squadron was alerted to a commotion in the makeshift markets between alleyways. Needless to say, they were astonished when they found the princess, at eight summers old, in a bare-knuckled brawl with three boys of varying ages. She had slipped out of the Red Keep in peasant's clothing, unnoticed, and managed to get into a tiff with the boys over whether girls or boys were stronger.
Robert was furious when she was returned to the Keep. Jon Arryn had been dabbing at her bloody nose with a cold cloth as the king raged about her stupidity. Yet two days after the incident, she was summoned to the courtyard by her lord father. He introduced her to an instructor, dropped a sword into her scrawny arms, and commanded her to learn how to fight properly.
Ser Barristan Selmy was Ariana's mentor now as she grew into an adult and one of the few remaining knights that could best her in a duel. He continued to teach her well, but there was still something about the way he moved that she could not yet master. But as her skills grew with her, so did the unrest in her home.
There had been a recent rise of speculation on whether or not Ariana's birth would make her the legitimate heir to the throne because of it being prior to Robert becoming king along with her being a female and other outrageous reasons. However, the only people who truly pursue this were the Lannisters. Tywin Lannister had argued that it was not fit for a woman to sit on the Iron Throne, and he pushed for the council to reconsider naming her younger brother, Joffrey, to rule.
Tywin was a respectable enough man, but he was cruel and power hungry. Jaime was a skilled knight and easy on the eyes, but he had also stabbed the kind he swore to protect in the back. Not to mention he was often insufferably arrogant, and Ariana was pretty sure he was a little too fond of his own sister. Cersei was…well…Cersei.
Now, Tyrion Lannister, she liked. Ariana enjoyed his company whenever he came to King's Landing because of his witty, sarcastic remarks and his fearless attitude that allowed him to speak freely and openly. Everything he said was underlined with a wisdom that was dreadfully underestimated. He showed her things, taught her lessons about life that she could never have learned about in a book.
Tyrion had also taken a liking to the princess. Probably because she didn't stare at his stunted body or maybe because she actually listened when he spoke with bright eyes that never lost their childlike spark. Ariana was glad he had come along with them on the journey north.
As the castle grew in the horizon, Ariana returned her thoughts to the Stark family. She was nearly seventeen now. What she remembered about them were the skinny little boys, Robb and Jon and Theon Greyjoy. Sansa had been so young and pretty, and Arya and Bran were just little tykes. Rickon was just a babe learning to walk the last time she saw of him. They had all been her friends, and she'd truly missed their company. How wonderful it would be to bask in the glorious northern skies once again. The princess was sincerely looking forward to ice and snow for a change.
Before they departed from the city, Robert approached Ariana with the idea of marrying her to Eddard's eldest son, Robb. For diplomatic reasons of course. He told her their houses would have been joined by blood long ago, had Lyanna Stark lived. He said this was their chance to make things as they should be.
Ariana was not pleased with the idea of marrying, but she and Robb had been friends once. It could be much worse. He could have suggested a Clegane brother for heaven's sake.
The whicker of her stallion, Azur, echoed in the air. Ariana smiled, thankful she'd insisted on bringing the wild beast with them.
She heard the sounds men shouting and the gates of Winterfell opening from her seat inside the carriage. Her fingers twisted together, her breath grew shallow, heart pumping faster. She was not sure if she was nervous or excited. Perhaps both.
Ariana sat as patiently as she could and waited to be presented to Lord Eddard and his family once again. And if her father had been serious, she would be presented to the boy she would call her husband. But who really knew about such things?
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