Just a couple of disclaimers before we start:
1. I have not read the books so please don't expect an in depth dive into the book world here. I may also have taken some liberties, please don't crucify me because it might not exactly match with the lore, this is fan fiction and you do not have to read it if you don't want to.
2. Whilst a good deal of this is already written, it is not written in order so there will also be no promises of fast updates. I have just decided to publish as I finish chapters in order. Begin at your own risk.
Also as the tagging system would only let me tag two genres and four characters - which isn't super helpful if you're wanting the vibe of a story before getting into it - I'll give you a bit of a heads up here. There will be multiple OCs which I would tag romantically like this if I could: OC x Robb Stark; OC x OC; OC x Jaime Lannister; OC x Oberyn Martel; Sansa Stark x Theon Greyjoy. There will also be heavy themes of friendship and family. There will definitely be angst and tragedy but that is not my endgame. This list/description is not exhaustive but at this point in time is my plan for the main plot points.
Chapter 1
Death Delivered
The fourth moon of the year 298AC
The Red Keep, Kings Landing
Daniela
"You're punishing me." She spoke the words with a quiet certainty, rage rippling through her. Daniela was quite sure in this statement as she thought of her best friend Loras and the scandal she had knowingly caused in protecting his secret.
Robert ignored this accusation though made no move to deny it. Instead, he said, "you're going to bring the Starks into the fold and with them the North."
"Isn't Ned Stark your oldest friend?" Daniela asked, referring to the famed Warden of the North.
"Aye, he is," her father confirmed. "But the years have brought distance. We need to ensure the continuation of Northern support."
Already suspecting the answer, she grimly asked, "what would you have me do?"
"You're going to marry Robb Stark. He's Ned's oldest and heir to Winterfell." He didn't seem to be troubled at all with the words.
Daniela spoke through a row of gritted white teeth. "Ned Stark has a daughter; why can't Joffrey marry her?"
"He will," Robert replied, momentarily stunning his daughter. "She'll be joining us here."
Daniella laughed cruelly as another realisation washed over her, this one with a hot wave of fury. She looked away from her father, fixing on a point in the stone wall in willing her eyes to stop stinging with the prick of tears. "You're trading me for her."
She heard Robert's sigh and pictured the frustrated look on his face all too clearly. "If you want to see it that way, so be it." The offhand nature of his statement hurt Daniela more than she was willing to admit. "You'll be taking your sworn shield with you," he added as an afterthought. But Daniela knew better, all this was at least some way in aid of what she had done recently to earn her father's ire. She suddenly remembered a conversation with her uncle some weeks ago.
When Daniella walked inside her chambers, she was met with an empty room until her uncle Jaime followed her in and closed the door. Her smile vanished at the sight of him, guessing what he was here to discuss.
"Hello, Uncle," she began.
"Sit down, Daniella, I'm here to talk and you're going to listen," he informed her matter-of-factly.
Daniella glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Just sit down, this won't take long," he ordered.
Daniella sighed and sat on her bed, knowing he wouldn't give up until she at least pretended to listen to him.
"You need to tell the truth about your friend," Jaime began seriously. Daniella knew he was talking about Loras; she had expected this. "It's dangerous to protect him."
"I did tell the truth," she delivered easily with no intention of heeding his advice.
Jaime sat beside her on the bed. "Daniella, I don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't," she argued, convinced that her father would never, ever hurt her.
"I know you don't think Robert would ever harm you and I'm not insinuating that he would in the way you think," Jaime started. "What I am saying is that after what happened today, he is furious." He said the words gently. "You won't go unpunished."
Daniella already knew this. But any punishment given to her couldn't be worse than what would happen to Loras if she didn't shield him.
She closed her eyes, stomach sinking like a stone. Though she dared not speak bluntly of Loras to her father, he knew the truth. He would never send Loras away with her if he suspected otherwise.
"You're letting him keep his position?" She asked the question anyway, eyes on the floor in front of her. For many days now Loras had been in limbo as to what would become of him following their predicament. Daniela had saved him from far worse, she was sure of that, but what he was suspected of instead carried its own punishments. All that stood between her friend and those punishments was the potential for her father's plans and pride for her to be ruined.
"He's a good fighter," Robert answered. "The boy will stay by your side."
And away from Renly, she thought privately.
"This has worked out well for you." She looked her father in the eye again. "You've got yourself a guaranteed alliance from the Starks with this excuse to send me away. Maybe you should be thanking me."
The King's eyes flashed the way they often were directed at Daniela's mother. She wondered if she reminded him of Cersei in that moment and how much he resented her for it. "Don't get smart with me." The command was sharp in response to her tone. "I don't need an excuse to forge alliances with your marriage, Daniela. Look at it this way—" he firmly took her chin in his hand— "make that boy yours and you may as well be Lord of Winterfell yourself when the time comes." He released her and - clearly finished with the discussion - abruptly swept from the room.
The Princess was left seething. Breathing heavily, she pondered her apparent new path. Her father's last remark had struck true; she knew herself capable of such manipulations however she had never met Robb Stark. What kind of a man would he be? To say that was her only objection would be untrue; King's Landing was her home, her turf and she had no desire to uproot her life and become part of another family.
Following her father from the room, she once again felt her stomach plummet at the sight of Loras loyally waiting for her among the vines. Of course, he was on duty but in her own turmoil she had forgotten that his fate was tied to hers now.
She hesitated in the doorway, so he approached her when he finally looked up. There was a cautious light in his eyes. Evidently her father had not spoken to him upon his own exit and he was waiting to hear the result of the conversation from her.
"So," he began, deceptively relaxed as he reached her. "What's the verdict?" Loras was good at masking his true feelings for the simple reason that he'd had to be. He was doing that now and Daniela hated the anxiety she sensed only due to her familiarity with him.
Loras was taller than her and so she looked up into his pretty face as she sought the words. She thought it best to give him the good news first, in case he was too angry to listen after the bad news. "He's not getting rid of you."
Loras's face immediately relaxed into an expression of relief.
"In a sense," she added quickly so as not to give too much false hope. "You're staying on as my sworn shield. As for me, I'm no longer going to be living here."
His face fell in sympathy. He raised his hand to her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry, Daniela." He was well aware that her sacrifice was his fault, however unwittingly.
She pulled away. "Don't apologise yet. I'm being sent to Winterfell." She took a breath. "For marriage to Robb Stark."
Loras's eyes closed much in the same way Daniela's had when she'd realised what all this meant. She suspected his stomach twisted the same way too. "And I'm coming with you," he added unnecessarily.
"I'm sorry, Loras," her voice was subdued.
They stood side by side in silence then, contemplating their joined fates.
#
Winterfell
Clarissa
In Winterfell, laughter peeled from the Stark children and the Snow bastards as Bran chased sister Arya for hitting his target perfectly and embarrassing him when she should've been sewing with Sansa.
"Have you been working on that with her?" Jon Snow whispered to Clarissa quietly, amused all the same though he knew it would win her no favour with the Lady of Winterfell.
Clarissa shook her head, laughing at her younger half siblings. "You know I'm not great with a bow," she replied to her twin, careful to keep her voice low as she added, "I got Theon to do it with her."
Jon's shoulders shook with an added laugh at that.
Theon Greyjoy was their father's ward from the Iron Islands, a way to keep them in line. Theon was a hostage only in name and had grown with the Stark children as Jon and Clarissa had. Theon was also the best of them with a bow, a near perfect shot every time. He was arrogant as well and had no qualms about showing it. It was only an understanding between him and Clarissa that got him to spend time with the youngest true born Stark daughter, teaching her the skills of an archer when no one else would.
Arya ran in circles around her older siblings to dodge Bran but she never tried to use them as a shield, too brave to hide. Bran got over his annoyance quickly and began laughing in earnest at the game they played now.
It came to a point where Robb intercepted his little sister, holding her steady while Jon captured Bran's arm, the brothers working together instinctively. The children laughed, a little breathless now and eyes sparkling with the fun of their youth.
Then came news of the deserter and the laughter stopped. There would be a death delivered by the Lord of Winterfell this day.
#
Rogue. That's what Clarissa had decided to name her direwolf pup, a small but feisty little female, white with greyish tinges in her fur, eyes a piercing blue. Each sibling had gotten one, bastard or no.
She was told it had been Jon's doing, the party had come upon the dead beast on their way back from the execution. Theon had wanted to kill the pups as they wouldn't survive without their mother but Jon had made the case for the litter to belong to Ned Stark's children, a perfect number to go with them. Strange really. Clarissa didn't linger on this fact as she held Rogue.
The pup slept soundly on her lap, having worn itself out exploring its new surroundings the rest of the evening. Clarissa petted her fur gently, marvelling at how she loved it so quickly. This little creature had not existed in her world before this afternoon and now she felt a protectiveness over the animal and was belatedly put out with Theon for even suggesting their deaths.
Theon would not come to her tonight, she knew. Or maybe he would. He was different that way than when they'd first started. At the beginning Clarissa had been the one to chase him while he had wanted to remain loyal to her father, her brothers, to not betray their trust in him with her.
"We shouldn't do this." Theon would not look at her, was looking anywhere but at her in fact.
Clarissa smirked. "Why not?"
"Your father, your brothers," he answered.
She raised her eyebrows. "Do they frighten you?"
Theon stuck to his resolve. "You're of a high-born family."
"But I'm not a lady," she reasoned. "I'm a bastard, worse – a female bastard. They're never going to marry me off to some high-born lord." As she spoke, she moved closer. "That means I can do whatever I want."
"I'm your father's ward." Theon gave her another reason. "It wouldn't be right."
"Oh, please." Clarissa rolled her eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?" Her tone was full of frustration.
"They trust me with you," Theon said this as though it completely explained his hesitation.
"Right." Clarissa looked at him as though this were even more reason to go ahead with her plans.
"They trust me to keep you safe from lads who would do with you what you're proposing to do with me." He looked at her challengingly, some of his bravado showing through.
"I don't need you for that, Theon." She approached once again. "Besides, I make my own decisions, not them. Anyway—" she shook her head in exasperation— "my brothers know I can protect myself from wayward boys; they're the ones who made sure I could."
"That doesn't mean it would be smart for anything to happen between us."
Clarissa's eyes widened comically. "Smart?! Who cares about being smart? Gods, Theon, why is it you can loosen up with anyone but me?"
He seemed to be at the end of his patience now. "You know why." He gripped her arm rather forcefully, there would be a mark where his fingers easily stretched around the appendage.
Clarissa raised one eyebrow in amusement, glancing down at where he gripped her. Theon flushed and pushed her away from himself like she disgusted him. Clarissa knew however, that it was quite in fact the opposite. Satisfaction flowed through her at the animosity of the reaction she'd pried from him when he'd tried to remain distant towards her.
"Clarissa, stop this," he commanded quietly.
"I know you want me," her voice was a whisper now. She was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek.
Clarissa had laughed at him for it and had not backed down, knowing she would win eventually. Eventually came rather quickly when Theon had realised it wasn't a test or a fleeting fantasy. Clarissa was sure of her intentions. She did not want to be held to the standards of a Lady when she wasn't officially considered one and she had set her sights on Theon to rid her of her virtue. Clarissa did not see it as some gift she would one day give to her husband. It was hers and she had chosen someone she trusted and they had gone from there.
Once the dam of his will was broken, Theon could be insatiable. If she was aloof now it could only make him want her more, like it was a game, like he was a child told he couldn't have something. She had no fears that Theon would ever not respond to her rebuffs if she was serious about them. But she rarely was and tonight she had been deliberately off with him regarding his callousness to the animals that now belonged to House Stark. He might very well take that as a challenge.
It was a secret of course. The only person that might suspect it was Jon and that was only because the twins had always been attuned to one another, like an instinctive force. She wasn't certain though and he had made no mention of it, only some lingering looks when he observed her and Theon around each other.
It didn't worry Clarissa. Jon would never do anything that would cause her negativity. If he wanted to know he could ask and she would tell him the truth. Explain it and assert that he didn't need to protect her from Theon.
Theon did not come that night.
#
The Red Keep, Kings Landing
Daniela
Days after Daniela had been warned about her new future Jon Arryn died and matters were accelerated. Her father wanted the father of her intended betrothed for his new hand. It seemed the entirety of the royal house would make the trip to Winterfell to make the request and propose the marriage alliance.
Daniela felt sick with the thought of it.
She wasn't worried about being rejected. No; she was the most eligible maiden in the seven kingdoms. It was the certainty of being accepted that upset her. It had been one thing to find out that at some point in the future she would be married to a Northern lord and a whole other when the timing was so close and real.
"I don't want you to go." Myrcella's voice was a sad little thing, perched on her older sister's bed.
"I don't want to go either." It was easy for Daniela to agree but did nothing for her foul mood about the whole thing.
"Mother doesn't want you to go either. She's angry." Myrcella was still a little girl but she was far less oblivious than people realised. She looked like a sweet pretty doll but had a mind for details and absorbed them in her every environment.
Daniela smiled. "Of course she is. But I'm afraid it won't change anything."
Myrcella looked down at where her hands were fiddling with the bedspread.
Daniela came to sit with her, guiding her chin up to look her in the eyes. "It'll be alright. You'll be the big sister now," Daniela tried to be comforting. "You know brothers are helpless without them."
"Joffrey doesn't want a sister."
Daniela took notice of the word want and not need. Joffrey wanted a lot of things and needed a lot of things but he was too stupid and arrogant and coddled by their mother to know the difference.
Daniela sighed in acknowledgement. "Tommen does."
Sweet Tommen, even sweeter than Myrcella. Daniela couldn't imagine him growing up the way she could with the younger sister before her. In Daniela's mind Tommen would be a little boy forever, innocent and untouched by the world.
"What about me?" Myrcella sounded petulant now.
Daniela laughed. "You'll still have me. We'll write and we'll visit each other."
"But you'll be so far away!" Myrcella stood and went to the window, looking out as though she might see Winterfell in the distance. Daniela watched her in silence, having no rebuttal and saddened.
When Myrcella spoke again her voice was quiet, afraid. "Will this happen to me?"
Daniela wished she could say it wouldn't. But that would be a lie and would not do her sister any good in the long run. She joined Myrcella at the window and placed her arms around her, resting her cheek on top of the little girl's head.
"We're princesses. He has to use us to forge alliances." A sad and bitter truth.
"You've never even met him. What if he's a brute?"
Daniela found herself smiling again despite the circumstances. "I can handle a brute. I don't want you to worry about me, Myrcella."
"I can't help it."
"I know."
Myrcella had a caring heart. It was in her nature to worry that her sister might be unhappy. But Daniela did not want her to be weighed down by that. So she put on a brave face for her, she smiled and said all the right things to reassure her that she would make the best of Winterfell and be happy.
Privately, Daniela still felt a sense of dread as if marching to her execution.
#
Winterfell
Clarissa
When Clarissa woke it was with a warm hand splayed across her back, it rose and fell with each steady breath she took. She had been content in sleep, as she always was when he slept next to her. The cotton sheets were soft and cool against her skin, the light of dawn waking her to the world gently. She rested on her front, hands up by her head and tangled in her dark hair splayed across the pillow. Her face was angled out toward the room and away from her companion. As she stretched and shifted, she felt the fingers on her back tighten, letting her know that Theon was awake also. He was probably watching her sleep, the sap.
She turned her head in the opposite direction so that she now faced him. He was watching her, eyes bright but face serious.
"You're still here," she commented lazily, having not quite shaken the realm of her dreams just yet.
"I wouldn't turn down a bed warmed by a woman," he retorted easily.
"Of course," she allowed, unoffended by the insinuation that it wasn't her but her gender in general that kept him by her side at night. She closed her eyes once more, releasing a yawn and far too comfortable to be tempted by the early hour of the day.
Theon's hand began to wander, calloused fingers trailing lightly up and down her spine. She knew better than to think he was helping her to drift off again. Eyes still closed; she raised an eyebrow.
"They suppose the king will arrive today." Despite his actions, his words were informative, possibly to advise her that she should arise.
"Are you looking forward to meeting our famed ruler?" Clarissa's words were a slight joke. She did not care about the arrival of the royal family and she knew if Theon did it would only be to spare a thought for his fallen brothers at the hands of the Iron Throne.
His answering silence caused her to open her eyes. He was watching her again, contemplating. She supposed he was trying to work out the meaning behind her question, not that there was one.
"Why so serious?" She lifted a steady hand to rest on his cheek. He instinctively leaned into it, almost betraying himself, the way he felt at her touch. Theon Greyjoy had a storm inside of him, a storm that only Clarissa could calm.
"You never are," he replied quietly.
"Why should I be?" She frowned slightly at his sombre tone.
He met her eyes again. "Don't you care about your prospects?"
Ah.
He was thinking once again about why she allowed him into her bed.
"What prospects?" She removed her hand. "I'm Lord Stark's bastard daughter, I don't care about marriage or social standing."
"Does your father know this?" Theon's tone had crept somewhat toward playful, perhaps realising that she tired of this subject each time it came about.
"I believe he may have his suspicions." She smirked, looking at him from beneath her dark lashes. "Lady Stark certainly believes I've had the same influence on Arya." Though she grew somewhat sombre herself at the mention of Lady Stark's disdain, the fondness she felt for her little sister won out and she kept her smirk.
Theon drew closer. "Lady Stark has the soft heart of a woman; she cannot help but be resentful of your existence." His words were meant to soothe her, she knew, but they did little.
Not wanting to dwell on the subject, Clarissa rolled her eyes. She leaned forward and briefly brushed Theon's lips with her own. "Would you not marry me?" Her question was one obviously borne out of teasing.
Theon's mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. "In a heartbeat, my lady."
Still smiling, Clarissa slowly advanced above him and straddled his hips. She instantly felt him against her, ready as he always seemed to be. Taking it as a compliment that she didn't have to make an effort to get him worked up, the notion soon had her ready too.
"Then I suppose you're lucky that it's not marriage I want." She sank down onto him, releasing a breath at the feeling.
His hips jerked when she fully surrounded him, the sensation sending a jolt through her that made her stomach tighten. When she began to move slowly, just a roll of her hips and a slight rise and fall, his hands travelled up her thighs almost automatically; they were well practised by now. He grasped her hips and dug his thumbs in, a move he knew drove her wild. He did not yet set the pace, but he was letting her know that he'd like to. She smirked down at him, holding his eyes, now burning with the mischief she so often saw there.
He gave her arse one demanding squeeze before vaulting up and landing her on her back. She gasped at the shock and new angle the change of position afforded him inside her. She wrapped her legs high on his waist instinctively as he gazed down at her like the predator he had become. They shared another secret smile as he began their movements once more.
As the pressure inside her built, Clarissa turned her face to the side, into one of her raised arms. She was clutching the sheets above her head at each punishing thrust he gave to her. Her eyes closed involuntarily, the small crease between her brows betraying her concentration.
When Theon gripped her jaw harshly in order to force her to look at him, her eyes flew open and instantly went back to his. The look in them made Theon surge down towards her to take her mouth as well. He could have it; she gave everything to him freely. She could not deny him when he was like this.
#
Daniela
Daniela's first impression of Winterfell had been grey. Everything was grey and dull and cold, the ground, the castle, the walls, the clothes, the sky. That was almost everything. Everything except the Starks.
It was a begrudging observation but one that Daniela could not deny. Her first impression of the Starks was warmth in this cold place, an unmistakable strength in their unity. She had watched her father light up and embrace Ned Stark like a brother. Lady Stark had smiled proudly as the King had greeted each of her children in turn. It wasn't the proud smile Daniela's own mother would have given, that would have been an expression of arrogance and power. Lady Stark's face was one of pure affection and happiness. The youngest were playful, the elders proper.
Robb Stark himself did not make much of an impression. Did he suspect? Daniela thought as she watched his eyes settle on her, friendly enough but nothing marked. She wondered what he saw in her own assessing gaze. He was just another young lord by all appearances, handsome certainly but what more could be said? The proposal had not yet been made but they very well may have guessed at the reason for the visit.
The King then made quick work of excusing himself for an audience with Lord Stark in the crypts while the rest were shown to their rooms. The remainder of the afternoon consisted of dressing for the feast in their honour.
Daniela wasn't in a particularly celebratory mood and tired of the feast, or rather she had tired of the company quite quickly. The people of the North were loud and obnoxious, not at all what she was used to. However, there was one person in particular that had grated on her last nerve – Sansa Stark. The girl had spent the entire night asking about Kings Landing and blathering about Joffrey. Each question or comment was punctuated with a longing look at the darling prince.
Daniella had drunk more wine than she knew she should have and was beginning to become too sharp tongued for the innocent girl. Her rational mind knew that it wasn't Sansa's fault that they were being traded off between their fathers, but she couldn't help the resentment that arose at the thought that she would have to stay here whilst the Stark girl would gain a place in The Red Keep.
As such, she had taken her leave and slipped away into the dark corridors of the Stark's home. It wasn't long before she was lost, each passage looking the same as the last in the inefficient glow of the torches lighting the walls at steady intervals.
One person had noticed her not so discreet escape and had curiously followed the princess out of the Great Hall. Robb Stark quickly caught up to Daniela and made sure not to sneak up on her by announcing his presence early.
"May I offer my assistance, Your Grace?"
She turned quickly, whipping around at the sudden intrusion on her negative thoughts.
Robb bowed but offered no other greeting.
Daniella knew she should be polite to the lord, her future husband, but the wine got the better of her and instead she said, "I was trying to escape you people not lure you out here for private conversations."
Robb's eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Or assistance." She lowered her voice on the word, mimicking.
Despite her rudeness, Robb had been raised honourably and recognised he was talking to a girl who outranked him in their world. "I apologise if you've found any offence here, Your Grace."
His amicable answer only seemed to irritate her more.
"There's no offence, my lord, I'm just not a polite person," she told him easily, "I don't have to be."
"I can see that," Robb replied too quickly. He realised his mistake and said no more, waiting for her reaction.
Daniella's face dropped; her eyes hardened. "I have my reasons for not acting as I should, I can assure you of that."
"Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"
Daniella smiled. It was not a genuine smile or a happy or kind one, it was sad. It was the smile of someone who wished they could be angry or cry but were only allowed to smile. "I was brought up here to be traded like cattle and I'm supposed to go along with it wearing a smile and the grace my mother taught me." Daniela leant against the cold stone wall, the only warmth coming from the glowing torch mounted not far from her face. Perhaps it was the warmth that drew her to stand there, perhaps she was too close.
Robb frowned minutely at her words, not failing to notice her golden Lannister beauty in the fire's soft light. "Traded, Your Grace?"
Daniella laughed, a cruel mirth shining in her eyes. "Do you really not know? Well, let me enlighten you, future Warden of the North." Her tone was decidedly mocking. "I am to be your bride and your sister will be given to my brother."
In truth, Robb had noticed the lingering looks between the young prince and his little sister. Even though the notion filled him with unease, it was not his place to defy his father's wishes if that were the case.
As Robb contemplated her revelation, Daniela carried on, "I am trading Kings Landing for," she looked around, distaste clear on her lovely features, "this and your sister will be moving into The Red Keep." There was resentment in her voice. "Though I suppose she will be getting my brother for a husband and I wouldn't wish that upon any girl."
Again, her statements filled Robb with unease. Though she had revealed information that was imperative to his own future, he thought only of Sansa and what might await her if her future were to be with Prince Joffrey in Kings Landing.
"You speak ill of your brother," he noted, "and of my home, Your Grace." His tone remained calm despite the inner workings of his mind.
Daniella ignored the first part of his statement and instead laughed at him again. "I am the first born of Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm which makes me the Princess of the Andals and the First Men, Lady of the Se—"
Robb unexpectedly found himself rolling his eyes and realised that the princess had a flair for the dramatic. "No need to bother, Your Grace," he cut her off, "I'm aware of your titles."
Daniela was left open-mouthed and staring at the Northern Lord, not used to being interrupted. "Did you just cut me off?" In her outrage, she took a step towards Robb and stumbled.
This was the precise moment that Robb realised she may be drunk.
She hiccupped when his hands caught her waist – only to keep her from falling of course – and he decided that she was, in fact, drunk.
"How improper," she commented of their now somewhat precarious position.
"Maybe I should escort you to your chambers, Princess." His voice was gravelly, leaving a certain emphasis on her title. She was unsure if he was the one mocking her now. His arms held her up easily, her slender form weighing next to nothing compared to his soldier's strength.
Daniela's hands instinctively clutched at the lord's broad shoulders, the leather there was soft and smooth. When she met his eyes, she stilled for a moment. They both stilled, struck by the proximity. This was when she first took in the striking blue of the wolf's eyes, it would stand out to her every time from this moment on.
Once Robb felt he had sufficiently steadied her, he let her go though did not move as far away. She seemed able to stand on her own.
"You want to get me alone in my chambers, My Lord?" She questioned haughtily.
"I only wish to ensure your safe journey back," he countered easily.
"That's disappointing," she breathed, a sudden tiredness overcoming her. She had a hand against the wall and rested her head against the cool stone, soothing the headache she anticipated. She missed the slight widening of Robb's eyes at her reply. He was unsure whether she was jesting.
#
Essos
Kahira
Kahira's first impression of Daenerys Targaryen - the girl who was to be her new Khaleesi - was weakness. A softness that did not fit well with the Dothraki showed in the girl, in the way she watched the wedding traditions, the brutality that was the Dothraki people.
Kahira knew very well that this was not the way of all peoples. She knew it better than any in the tribes. She was the Khal's sister now and her place was cemented at Drogo's side but when she was the Khal's daughter she had been a ward of another way of life.
In her thirteenth year Prince Oberyn Martell had been a traveller curious to observe the Dothraki way of life. He had also observed a feral animosity in a girl on the cusp of womanhood, a girl who did not want to be quelled by the dominance of the males surrounding her. But there were no female warriors among the Dothraki, no power in the voice of a woman, even the daughter of a Khal.
When the Prince had proposed to take Kahira as a ward, Khal Barbo had barely cared as she was a daughter and not a son. The Khal had only been interested in preparing his son and watching that he did not covet his crown too early. With that Kahira had disappeared from the Khalasar and had returned a woman grown once her father was dead and Drogo had the seat of power.
Khal Drogo had welcomed his sister back, pleased with her strength as well as her inability to challenge him due to her womanhood. She had been made a blood rider after proving herself a deadly weapon, one that was unexpected and treasured by her brother. The rule was known - no man would mount or command Kahira, she was not like the others. Any who tried would feel her blade and the Khal would not stay her hand.
Now that Drogo would have a wife, she had been tasked with watching over his new bride, of teaching her the ways of the Dothraki people. Kahira did not welcome this task. She was not sure the girl would survive. She understood this inclination to not follow with the Khalasar traditions; Kahira never had and she had been born to it.
Looking at the fear in Daenerys's eyes did not bestow a confidence that this would be a simple achievement. She would have to comfort and coddle this one. Kahira had never been coddled, she had fought and clawed to not be treated the same as the rest. She did not want to drag someone else's weight behind her or feel the guilt of leaving them to their sadness and fear. It was an irritating choice. Kahira also knew that her own brother would cause at least some of the misery if this girl really was as watery as she seemed, a thought that she did not want.
Where was the Targaryen fire this house was supposed to possess? Even in the girl's brother she had no sense of this, he played at it but he inspired no real fear. Though these were not the first Targaryens she had met.
Visenya Martell, though not of sound mind, had still given off an air of fierceness. Not obvious but there, brewing beneath the surface. You knew she was powerful, or had once been so at least. Kahira had liked Visenya. The wife of Prince Oberyn was a Targaryen princess that had married the Prince of Dorne when her family was slaughtered by the current power in Westeros across the sea. It was said that the Princess had been a warrior herself before the tragedy, she had ridden a dragon that was lost to the world now.
Kahira had been fascinated with the woman but had kept her distance, disquieted by the air of madness it was said she possessed. A quiet madness that Kahira suspected was fuelled by rage for her past.
These Targaryens before her were the younger siblings of Visenya but Kahira could not make the connection. The only obvious link was that white blonde hair, a trademark of their bloodline apparently.
As the wedding ceremony went on and Daenerys was led off by her brother, Kahira was less than underwhelmed with the so-called dragons.
#
Winterfell
Daniela
Nursing a not so subtle headache, Daniela sat opposite Robb in the hall where the feast had taken place the night before. The young Lord smirked at her, not even bothering to hide his amusement, not unlike the way she barely hid her sore head. This only increased her ire for the whole situation.
"We would be honoured to accept, of course." Ned Stark's words were rehearsed, Daniela was sure. Though he did not seem like a man for anything but honesty, he was definitely the kind of man to share decisions with his wife, who showed no surprise at the marriage proposal. They had discussed this possibility between themselves.
The only face in the room to show displeasure was her mother's. Even Daniela managed to look amicable despite her ill feeling; she knew better than to be so rude in front of her father. She might have voiced her true thoughts to her intended last night but she was not so ill mannered as to disrespect the Lord and Lady of Winterfell in their own home, not only because of the long standing friendship with Robert. Cersei, however, had no such qualms about displaying her disdain, anger plain in her eyes. It went ignored by all in the room with the lead of the king.
"The joining of our houses with the union of Robb and the Princess would be a most welcome gift, Your Grace." Lady Catelyn bowed her head deferentially.
"I should think so," Cersei almost growled.
Daniela smirked, despite a small secret feeling of embarrassment at her mother's attitude.
"You've a promising young lord and heir, Ned," Robert spoke as if Cersei had not. "I'm entrusting my daughter to him knowing you'll have raised him right." He gave a meaningful look to Robb at that.
"I'll prove your trust well placed, My King." Looking eerily like his mother, Robb nodded in the same deferential manner, though confident.
This talk of her as a possession to be passed between the men frustrated Daniela, igniting a rageful annoyance in her belly. Her fists clenched on her knee hidden beneath the table, drawing blood on her palms. She wanted to hit something, or someone. She kept her eyes on the table, afraid that if she met anyone's gaze at that moment it would betray her true feelings.
What a stupid worry, she thought. Her parents already knew, as did Robb, courtesy of her behaviour the night before. He might have told his parents but she wasn't sure. Regardless, her father would not thank her for displaying her true heart in this meeting.
Silence was ensuing now and Daniela realised they all looked to her for comment; she was the only one not to speak so far. She raised her eyes, finding her mother giving her an almost imperceptible nod. She looked to Robb - who's eyes seemed to be piercing her - for only a moment before turning to his father, the current Lord. "I look forward to becoming a part of your house, My Lord." She managed a smile and caught what she thought was a look of disappointment from Robb in the corner of her vision.
"Of course." Ned Stark smiled kindly at her and Daniela retreated into her own resentment once again.
#
"You must play the game, even up here." Cersei held her daughter's cheeks between her palms, treasuring the face staring back at her.
Daniela felt this all the time, her mother's love for her, however sharp it could be. One thing was always a certainty - the Queen loved her children and Daniela was her first born, her first little girl. It felt special to be loved by someone who hated so much and so many of those around her.
The rage Cersei had displayed when it was revealed that Daniela would be betrothed to the North had shown a lack of control rarely exerted by her mother. One that could only be inspired by losing that which she loved. Cersei did not give her love freely and loved so obsessively that it felt like a privilege to be loved by her sometimes, even though a mother was supposed to love her children, Cersei did it insanely.
Daniela had actually counted on this fact as a way to stop her betrothal to Robb Stark. Her father had not moved however and the marriage was to go on. Daniela actually wished she had not held out the hope that her mother would put a stop to the farce, it only made it worse now that she had to accept that she had no choice in the matter.
"There's no game to play. I will be the wife of the Lord of Winterfell, just like you're the wife of the King," Daniela replied.
"Not quite." Cersei kissed her forehead patronisingly.
She wasn't sure if the last was meant as an insult but Daniela felt the sting of it anyway. Daniela didn't look at being someone's wife as an achievement. She understood the female power of bending a man's will, it just wasn't where she wanted her achievements to lay.
"You are right that there won't be much of a game to play, if any," Cersei carried on, wandering to the window of her room. "There's not much nuance to be found in the people up here; they are a simple kind."
This was meant as an insult.
"Ned Stark will be Hand of the King and when you've married his son, you'll be the Lady of Winterfell, the most powerful woman in the North." Cersei turned to face her. "If you play it right, you'll be the most powerful person in the North. All you have to do is make sure that boy is loyal to you and only you."
Make that boy yours and you may as well be Lord of Winterfell. Daniela wondered if her parents knew how alike they could be at times. Was that the only way she could have any power? By making a man fall in love with what was between her legs?