Queen of the North


Walking through the halls of Winterfell the northmen and women bowed as she swept by, some with less kindness in their eyes than others. There were whispers in these passages and she made sure to heed what their gilded words said. Taking deliberate care in collecting the best of the power figures she had found herself near time and time again, this wolf had little birds of her own.

Reaching the bend to the throne room, Robett Glover remained close to the door, his beady eyes watching her approach. The lords of the North were careful to stay near whilst the former Houses that had fallen were vacant and without heirs. Mormont, Karstark, and yes, she shivered, even Bolton. There were too many to list in that moment and she pushed them away - for now. Eventually the Queen would have to think of what to do with the land without tearing the North apart.

"Queen Stark," Robett bowed, his forehead nearly touching the ground. "Lord Glover," she acknowledged and waited a moment for her maid to adjust her crown and fur cape that billowed around. "I hope you are doing well."

"Aye, I came to talk about House Hornwood. It is -"

"You have made good timing, Lord Glover. The North waits in the throne room. Shall we? I will need you by my side," she interrupted, a faint smile on her lips. The man was insistent and proud, but he was one of the few that stayed behind to support her claim when Jon headed for King's Landing. For that, she would make sure he was awarded. "O-of course, my Queen," he bowed again, and followed as she walked through the opening doors.

Many faces watched as Sansa stepped down the aisle and gracefully sat herself on the newly crafted throne. Among them she could see Lord Wyman of House Manderly and Lord Cley of House Cerwyn, their expressions bordering malice. They were quick to fight for Jon to remain King of the North, or at the very least support the last living male heir - Bran Stark. It did not matter that Sansa knew deep inside her brother was no longer. These old houses would always choose a man over her. Making sure to maintain a blank expression, she turned to face the young boy that stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Your Grace, this is Larence Snow, the bastard of Lord Hornwood," said the Lady of Barrowton who sat ever so close. House Dustin was another loyal servant, eager to prove their worth to their new Queen. "Lord Glover, you have been keeping this boy safe in Deepwood Motte, have you not?" Sansa asked, turning to her friend.

"That I have. He's a son in me eyes. A good, strong lad," Robett nodded, triumph showing in his words. The boy blushed a bright red upon hearing this. Sansa knew what Robett wanted - if the boy became a Hornwood then the Glover House would always have a strong hold in that land. Had it been anyone else who held that pawn Sansa would have made sure he wasn't theirs for long. Making a mental note to keep an eye on the situation she settled comfortably in her decision.

"Lady Berena was the last heir to House Hornwood. Do you bend the knee? Will you recognize your Queen?" the Lady of Barrowton demanded. It was a bit forceful, but Sansa knew the lords would not forget the power of a Stark in this moment.

"Y-yes, of course Your Grace!" Larence stammered, quickly unsheathing his blade and presenting it to her. "Larence Snow, I - Sansa of House Stark and Queen of the North, legitimize you as Larence Hornwood, the rightful Lord of your honorable House." The crowd swarmed with approval and filled the air with heavy clapping. Blushing again, the boy thanked his Queen profoundly and rushed to Lord Glover's side, his ears red too. Looking past the group, Sansa recognized the face that hid between the others.

"Lady Meera of House Reed! What a surprise to see you hear," Sansa remarked, making many heads turn. Suddenly feeling surrounded, the girl jolted from her seat. "Your Grace. I was sent by my father after receiving a raven requesting my presence in Winterfell."

Remembering her letter, Sansa settled in her throne again. "Ah, yes. It had been some time since I sent that raven to Lord Reed." She had been thinking of the oddness of her brother and wanted to speak to someone who knew what truly happened. After the heirs of House Reed left with Bran across the Wall it seemed as if he never truly came back. Although her brother had accepted her right as Queen of the North, Sansa still felt she needed to be careful around him. What better way than to understand his transformation? Beckoning the girl forward, Sansa stood and walked back down the aisle to the doors.

Shuffling anxiously, Meera stood for a moment before running in a very unladylike way to Sansa's side. They left the main hall, the courtyard, and then the gates in silence. A few of her guards kept a watchful eye, but once reaching the Godswood Sansa ushered them away. Reaching the Weirwood, she gazed at its red leaves longingly before turning back to the girl.

Meera Reed held beautiful dark brown eyes and a childish sway that reminded Sansa of her younger brothers when they once chased each other through the halls. A raven landed on the branch of the weirwood, and then another, until the white tree was full of feathered bodies.

"It seems my brother is interested in you too," Sansa laughed, her caution rising in the presence of Bran. Those words seemed to make the girl wary and she took a step back from her Queen. "I doubt that," she answered, her voice barely audible from her lips.

"How fares House Reed?" the Queen asked, trying to keep the conversation going. Now that the King was present, it would be a little trickier to get the truth out of the girl. Why was he here? What did Bran not want her hearing?

"My father is well. His thoughts of a proper Lady aren't all that agreeable, though," Meera said with a wrinkle of her small nose. The ravens tilted their heads in unison, as if grinning. "No, I am sure they are not," Sansa smiled.

The two stood across from each other, their eyes locked. The air was cold and unforgiving, and their breath came out in powdered vapor. "I wanted to personally thank you again for delivering our brother to us in his time of need. We will forever be indebted to you," Sansa said, reaching forward and placing one hand on Meera's arm. "Yes, I suppose so," she replied.

Not knowing how to respond to those words, Sansa began to walk back to the castle. "Please allow yourself to stay comfortably in Winterfell as my guest. I will look forward to speaking with you more," she said, turning her head in the girl's direction before slipping through the trees.

Now alone, Meera looked up at the eyes that watched her. The raven on the lowest branch gave a loud caw before they scattered into the air, their feathers blowing in the wind.


No One


Naked and in her own body a girl dipped into the clear water of the spring, her hair waving behind like garden snakes. Dark, rich skin. Eyes the color of tree sap in a forest scattered with broken sunlight. There was a man that heard the shuffle of feet and the break of water, and he peered behind the shadows to look.

The poor merchant had never seen a woman so beautiful, her swelling breasts rising along with the rest of her from the pool. Praying to the gods, he imagined her to be a nymph or a fairy, and feared her running away if she caught sight of him.

She smiled and turned in his direction, already knowing he was there before he knew himself. Brushing through locks of deep brown, she walked slowly, carefully, swaying her hips as she came closer. "Please," she said, her eyes glistening, "I need your company."

Gulping, the man started to shake and clumsily rose to his feet, his heart soaring. The way she moved - he could see the hair that grew between her legs and craved for the feeling of him inside her. His wife at home was always screaming in his ear about how much she hated him, and brought men in the day when she thought he was away. It had been so long. The gods have blessed him!

Eagerly running up to the edge of the pool, he bowed, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need you," she said with a wink, clasping her chest and tenderly tracing down to her abdomen. "I-o'course," he stammered, reaching for her.

Grasping his arms, she pulled him closer, letting his hands touch her hips, dragging them to rest over each raised nipple. "Thank you," she whispered, caressing his neck. In one moment his eyes were hopeful and ready, heated in the way men become, and then in another he gazed at nothing at all. A quick flash and the sound of bones snapping, and he fell to the ground.

"The Many Faced God will not be happy a girl stole a life," said a voice from the shadow of the trees. "No," she agreed, sinking back into the pool. "But he saw my face. It could not be."

If only she could make use of the girl she had been granted, then the merchant would have lived. There were no other masks that shared her sex and she did not want to clean herself in any other form. Sighing, she knew it was a pointless thought. After the death of the snake, it was only a matter of time until the Dragon Queen's followers would pursue anyone responsible for her demise. Including the little girl who slipped in and out of her quarters.

"A girl is too reckless. Another face would have made this easier," he breathed from nearby, always watching protectively. She shrugged, deciding she had enough of the wash. Stepping out, the woman stretched her willowy figure and began to dress into sturdy travel attire. Fasting her hair into a tight braid, she pulled out another face from her pack and gazed at it warily.

"Is it wrong to want to feel my skin when I bathe? To breathe with my lungs and taste with my mouth?"

"It does not matter what we want," he replied, his voice without emotion. Sighing, she slipped on the mask and watched as her body changed.

When they reached the gates of Gulltown, he was a young smith apprentice bringing in newly sharpened blades along with his master. The guards were lazy and fat, their bellies bulging from cheaply crafted armor. It seemed the war had stayed far from this port full of hot headed fishermen and pregnant whores. It did not surprise the boy that dragons would ignore this forgetful place.

Whispers hung in the alleys, peasants keeping their voices low about the Dragon Queen who was slain - in case it wasn't true. Some sayin' that Snow sliced her face, no'ne coulda be sure 'twas her.

Should'n ever trust a bastard, I say.

Now is a little wolf as king. Ye hear 'at?

The graying head of his master beckoned forward, hearing only words they already knew. Bringing their swords to the first weapons merchant they found, the pair silently walked through the city watching the crowds in carefully concealed interest. There was a caw from above and the master yanked them both into an open doorway. Hiding behind a heavy cart of freshly picked beets, the master raised his ear to listen.

Only when he heard the wings take off did he breathe, leaning on the cracked wood. "What was that for?" the apprentice growled, rubbing his skinny arm. "It was just a raven."

"A raven with the eyes of a man," the master replied, rising from their hiding place. "We must make haste."

Reaching the harbor, they found a ship heading for Braavos and flipped a familiar coin in front of the tempered captain. Valar Morghulis.

Valar Dohaeris. As always, when the master felt the metal in his grip he thought of a girl who outsmarted him, forcing his hand to help her. It was the only time he ever felt - when she shook her head and went her own way. There was a moment of disappointment. It was faint, but even now it lingered.

In the safety of the ship, an apprentice became a woman and felt her long hair with a warm sigh. She held a calculating gaze as the master became a lean young man, most likely a poor farmer's son who suffered from his father's ill choices.

"Have you painted a story for this face?" he asked, his back turned but knowing she was watching. Gracefully he pulled out paper and dipped his quilt into ink, writing of their success. A flame flickered casting a harsh shadow over his muscles and made them more menacing from where she stood.

Hesitantly she reached out, her fingers about to graze his light skin. "Don't," he hissed, his voice marred with an unspoken threat. Shrugging, she pulled her arm back and sank into the cot. Asha would never admit it, but his words hurt inside.

"A man chose a handsome face," she said, burying her desire for the person inside the disguise. For a moment she thought their long journeys together had become enough to develop into something more. What a foolish girl. She did not even know the true shape of the man inside.

"I am sorry," he breathed, halting the word he was writing. "A man does not have a heart."

Every person has a heart. There are many who simply run away from this truth. She has seen the fiercest of stags haunted by the memories of his ill fated love. She has watched a mighty dragon find room in her chest for a gentle wolf.

Thinking of the white haired woman with violet eyes, there was a hint of regret in the vendetta tasked for her. The others warned of this very emotion. It would make her lose sight of the purpose in their actions. When that snake asked if she had delivered, a girl replied she had not. This was a partial truth. A girl followed the cup as it touched a dragon's lips and listened as the liquid poured down her throat. Instead of the tears of Lys she had used a drop of basilisk blood. It was a gamble. Mere mortals would go mad with rage - killing any that dare laid close, and then eventually themselves. But what is a basilisk to a dragon?


Mentionable Notes:

I know, you're thinking what? Why end there with Dany and then go on about other characters? Well, Martin does that a lot in ASOIAF and I figured to stay close to canon in that regard. Minor characters are always the the ones we learn the most from.

The Basilisk Blood is pulled straight from canon, and from the time of Arya with the Faceless Men no less! Felt a little bit like HP content to be honest (you're a wizard, Harry!). Anyways, a basilisk is a King of Serpents, right? Well, then a dragon must be like an emperor, or maybe even a god. Who knows. Targaryens are supposed to have dragon blood in them so what's a *few* drops of the poison gunna do?

Also Asha is pulled from canon too. Remember when Yara Greyjoy was Asha Greyjoy in the books? *wink*