another nugget of an idea.

reborn female!nico who will be gay. I'm thinking her first cousin, Sansa Stark as a pairing?

wanna stick as close to Nico's personality as possible. Need connections with death. WIP.

Pomegranates

Silence loomed over the forest.

Nico frowned as she looked at the sky. The wind sliced colder. The sky darkened by the minute. When she escaped the royal party earlier, she fooled herself into thinking she had all day with the steady rise of the sun creeping through bramble and leaves. The rest of the nobles and her centennial, her lady companion, were slow to rouse while the servants were too busy prepping to track her movements. She thought herself clever getting up so early.

Now-she adjusted her quiver and bow on her shoulders-she was fucking cold.

Nico sighed. She turned and looked over her shoulder at the direction she started in. She would go back and beg forgiveness. She already knew her lie: she woke up early to make her water, then got turned around, but look at what she done! She found her way back. She could be trusted on a hunt.

Her shoulders rose with the sound of crunching leaves. Her dark eyes scanned the forest, searching for the sound as she forced herself to keep going.

Her father, Jon Arryn, warned her of the perils of hunting before she went in an effort to dissuade her. He said it was a sport not suitable for noble women. Men died on hunts mauled by wolves or skewered by deer. Nico's heart was still when her father told her these gruesome tales, but now it beat strong against her breastbone.

She gripped the dagger at her waist, wishing she had brought her spear instead of a bow and arrows and a small dagger more suited for dinner. She forced herself to keep going on the path she already trod. She was losing light.

There! She froze when she caught sight of fur. In the shroud of leaves was a deer. She swallowed once, afraid to move even as he twisted his great head, his felt ear upright and pointed, waiting for sound.

When it heard nothing, he dipped his head back down, and she copied the movement. Nicole's nimble fingers touched the ground, the dirt and jabby sticks, and the silk of the leaves. Nicole breathed.

Slowly, she notched her bow, and she drew it back like her master had taught. For a second, she felt as if time stopped, though everything around her pulsed in rhythm with her heart.

She breathed. Her arrow sliced through the air.

Her eyebrows raised to hear the mewing cry of the deer and the sudden violent rearing as he tore away from her and the cover of leaves.

Nico ran as fast as she could. She was sure she would be cut from all the branches, and her clothes were torn in some places, but what did it matter? This was a story she could bring back to her father and maybe even draw a smile from her miserable mother.

She caught up to the deer. Her arrow stuck in him, and she prepared another shot. It wasn't as difficult the second time around. She killed him, she was sure, though she dared not move until it stopped flailing.

To watch a creature die was something she had no words for. It was strange to be the cause of another being's death. Nicole frowned. The taste of victory was not as sweet as she had imagined.

How long she had been there, Nico did not know. She ached when she stood. When she was sure he was dead, she approached the beast and dipped down. Blood rivered the beast's fur like a line of rubies. She blinked hard, then nodded.

"Thank you," she said.

She tied the beast's legs together. Then, she began her journey back to camp.

"Nicole Arryn! Where in the seven hells have you been?" Septon Anne's harsh voice lashed out.

Nico startled with half a laugh, lowering her prize. Her arms were tired. They felt like they were going to pop off.

"I had to make water, I got turned around. But on my way, I caught- why the dour faces?" Nico asked. "I know I disappeared. It wasn't that long. I came back."

"Nicole."

The smile on her face thinned into a confused frown. Suddenly there was the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, her play uncle Robert Baratheon, first of his name. In all of her fifteen years, he had never called her Nicole. His round face was the reddest she had ever seen, clashing against his ink-black beard. Surprise etched in his stormy eyes.

"Yes," she said softly, then she remembered her audience. "Yes, my king."

"There's been news from King's Landing." Robert closed the distance between them. Careful in a way she was not used to, it made her twice as nervous as walking through the darkened forest with her fresh kill. "We've been searching for hours to tell you."

Her brows pushed together. "Is it the queen?" Nico asked. She shared no familial feelings for Queen Cersei of House Lannister. She served her (reluctantly) as a lady in waiting but did her best to stay out of the queen's way. "I apologize for any delay I've caused. I understand we must go to King's Landing right away-"

"It is not the queen," Robert said.

"Oh." Nico blinked. Her thoughts came together. "Is it Mother? Did she send another poor messenger to tell me she's on her deathbed for the third time this moon?"

Nico loved her mother as ardently as any child loved their parent, but he was not blind to her faults. Lysa of House Tully was prone to histrionics. Every moon, she declared herself having symptoms of a new ailment and the Stranger plotting her death.

"No. It isn't Lysa. Gods be good. She should be the one to tell this to you." The surprise in his eyes turned into blustery anxiety and was wet-

"My king?" Nico asked.

"It's Jon Arryn!" Robert shouted though he withdrew as if he didn't mean to.

"Father," Nico said softly. "What's wrong with him?"

She felt as if she knew. She saw Father in her mind as she had left two days ago, Abed with a slight flush to his cheeks. It was just a summer fever. Half of the city got it with the change in weather. Maester Coleman said Father only needed a purge.

"He was sickly, and it quickly turned…"

What he said next, Nico would never know. She turned and fled where she came from, back to the woods.