In honor of my official return to writing on tumblr since I was 12, heres a little blurb about being in an arranged marriage with king! Jon snow…
You arrive at Winterfell a little after first light, a chill in your bones. It does not get this cold in the Reach. Your heart hammers violently in your chest, of course you knew this day would come, but gods you would never be ready. No matter how hard you tried, this was the job of a lady. This was your battlefield. Men find glory fighting their enemies, they believe it to be their divine destiny. This was yours, stepping out of the carriage in a kingdom you knew nothing about. To be wed to a man you knew nothing about.
“My lady”
You snap your head up quickly, and see an older looking man
Oh gods, is this the king?
You scan his face before your eyes fall on his hand of the king pin. Ah. a bit of relief crosses your face.
“Hi, my lord”
Your voice breaks a little when you speak, you feel uneasy.
“I am Ser Davos of house Seaworth, My lady. Hand to the king.”
He looks kind, his accent is unfamiliar, not polished like you are used to. He awkwardly clasps his hands in front of him and speaks again
“His grace is in the great hall, My Lady, I will accompany you to him”
You swallow hard and muster a small ‘Thank you’, trailing behind him slowly. Ser Davos opens two large doors and steps to the side, gesturing for you to walk in. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, and you feel sick. You wish you had been born a man, your younger brother will take over the castle you loved dearly one day. He will never have to leave his home for the arms of a stranger who could be cruel. He could be anything he wanted to be, a soldier, a lord, a maester. You were smarter, kinder, and more careful, but he had a cock. Checkmate, you lost. Nothing mattered now, your train of thought is interrupted as you walk into the doors. Your eyes instantly spot a man, dressed in all black, his black curls pulled back into a small bun, and his face sharp.
“Your Grace”
you speak hushed, and quickly dip into a curtsey, when you stand back up, he is smiling at you. He has very kind eyes.
“Hello, My Lady”
his voice is deep, and it shakes you to your core. He speaks again.
“It is good to finally meet you, I hope your ride was not too unpleasant?”
You swallow the lump in your throat and respond.
“It wasn’t too bad, Your Grace”
We stare at each other for a moment, searching for something.
“You do not need to call me ‘Your Grace’, we are going to be family. You can call me Jon”
I blink at him a few more times. He must think I’m simple.
“Oh, okay, Jon”
The word does not feel right on your tongue, but you do it anyway. You’ve gotten used to that feeling.
