Facing the Blizzard
Maekar Targaryen x Stark OFC, Chronically ill, OFC, Gothic Romance AU, Age Gap, Arranged Marriage
Summary: Ellena has been married to Prince Maekar Targaryen, not out of love, but as an alliance between the North and the South. She quickly finds that her second husband is gruff and avoidant, her stepchildren children to be wild and uncontrollable, and the South to be unkind and judgemental.
After the death of Rhaegal Targaryen and his son Aelor, Maekar is made heir to the throne and Prince of Dragonstone. As part of his new role, Maekar begrudgingly brings his family to his new estate. There, Ellena finds that grief takes a new shape, one that makes her consider her sanity as well as her safety. Will she and Maekar reconcile their differences in order to build something new? Will she and his children find safety in this inhospitable place?
Masterlist
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Author’s Note: Here’s the beginning of the gothic Maekar fic that I’ve been writing. I hope you enjoy it. (Btw Ellena is pronounced like Helena without the H)
Trigger Warnings: Depictions of migraines and vomiting
This story is made without the use of Al. I do not consent to having my story put into any ai generative software, to be translated , copied or posted elsewhere without my express permission. I do not claim to own the source material this story is based upon.
Lady Ellena Locke felt like a dagger had been run through her right eye. The day of her second marriage, and she had a migraine. Lovely. Every sound was painful. The sounds of maids in the Red Keep's twisting hallways, the clinking of the Kingsguard's armour outside her door, and of course… the masses in the distance waiting for her marriage to Prince Maekar of House Targaryen. All the noise made her wince.
Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Ellena quickly opened up her left eye, the one that wasn't in excruciating pain and scrambled to her empty chamber pot , heaving up what meager food she'd eaten last night. She'd been too nervous to eat much, and now her belly revolted in anger at her failure to predict her migraines. Her one open eye glared towards the gap in the curtains, spotting the culprit behind her current condition. Dark clouds had gathered over the roofs of King's Landing. There would be rain soon, if Ellena's brain had anything to say about it.
She dry heaved, pressing her forehead against the cool porcelain of the chamber pot. It did not provide much relief. Ellena knelt like that for a while, waiting to see if her body would revolt again. It didn't. She stood up and gingerly walked to her pitcher and basin, where she filled a small cup with water and rinsed her mouth out.
At the door, she heard the armour move again before a small knock came to the door. Such a small sound, but through the haze of Elena's migraine it sounded more like a hammer on an anvil.
'How ironic,' she thought as she called for the knocker to enter, considering whom she was marrying today.
She'd only met her affianced, Maekar Targaryen, twice in the lead up to their wedding day. First, when she'd arrived from the north, the second, when they'd dined with King Aerys the night before. It was not for lack of trying to know 'the Anvil,' he'd simply avoided her whenever she tried to get to know him better. If she was in a room, you could bet that there was a flash of silver-gold hair bolting away in the opposite direction. No wonder Ellena couldn't eat the night before, the rain and the migraine… it seemed like she was surrounded by poor omens to her marriage.
'But when is marriage supposed to be easy?' Ellena thought as she ate a small bit of buttered bread from the tray brought by her maidservant.
Her first marriage certainly hadn't been one of love, but it had been quick, with her husband dying in a Skagosi raid before he sired a child on Ellena. She'd been sent back to live with her family at Winterfell for the next three years. Then the offer came from King Aerys: a bond of ice and fire— Targaryens and Starks. A good match, one that would strengthen the Targaryens and their claim to the throne. For the Starks, it would similarly strengthen their hold in the north. It would be a very prosperous union for Barthogan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The one problem was, Ellena was the only one of her siblings left unmarried, even if she was a widow. She would have to do her duty again to her family. Ellena would have to remarry. Her father accepted the proposal on her behalf and began the marriage negotiations with the King and Lord Bloodraven.
For a long time, Ellena did not know whom she would be married to. She expected she would most likely be tied to the Prince known as Daeron the Drunken, as they were relatively close in age, with Ellena being his elder by four years, yet, she was mistaken. After a few weeks of ravens flying back and forth, it was settled, Ellena would marry Maekar Targaryen.
There was a debate about the ceremony itself, especially since Ellena and her family worshipped the old Gods, so a compromise had to be made. There would be a public marriage at a Sept and a separate ceremony afterwards in the Godswood. Ellena had been glad that her new husband would not force her to change her religion to fit into this new world. She was leaving her home, her family, the land she had known for all her life, Ellena would be giving up enough; let her keep her Gods.
Even if they had a sense of humour, giving her a migraine on the day of her wedding.
Ellena turned towards the maidservant, one of the many employed by the Red Keep, not the one she'd had since before her first marriage. Leena, she'd been left at Winterfell since her whole family was in the North. It wouldn't be fair to take her away from them as well. But how Ellena wished she had a familiar face to start her new life.
"Can you please bring me a pot of hot water before I bathe and dress?" Ellena asked the maidservant.
"Of course, my Lady." The girl responded with a quick nod and curtsy before quickly scuttling away.
Ellena sat on the edge of the bed and laid on her back, staring at the roof of the fore poster bed. Only a few more hours and she would be married again. Her stomach felt queasy at the thought of it. Ellena knew nothing really of Maekar, how could she make a life with a man who ran at her at every turn? She bit her lip. He wasn't unattractive, but he seemed gruff and aloof, would she be able to push past that?
A jolt of pain rushed to her eye, making her groan and press the palm of her hand against her shut eyelid. What she would give to have a quiet day with a cold compress and nothing to do. But that was for a lesser lady. Ellena was to be the wife of Maekar Targaryen, she would have to push through. It would not be the first time she'd done so.
The maid came in with a teapot filled with hot water on a tray. Ellena spoke her thanks from the bed and stood up, going to one of her trunks and began rummaging.
"My lady?" Asked the maidservant, "Should I begin to prepare you for your bath?"
Ellena shook her head as she continued her search, "I'll bathe in half an hour. I just need a little time to wake up."
"But the wedding—"
"Isn't until in the afternoon. It's the early morning. I will survive without primping and prepping for a little while," Ellena responded, looking over her shoulder to give a comforting smile to the maid before dismissing her. It pained her to open both eyes, giving the impression of normalcy, pretending she was well. But she'd done it for years, she'd live.
Ellena looked back at her trunk and sifted through the clothes, furs, and books before coming across what she needed, a small wooden box. Standing up, she brought it over to the teapot and opened it. Inside was the tisane blend she'd made based on recipes she'd gathered from maesters: pineapple weed, feverfew, mint, willowbark, and rose petals. A temporary solution. It would have to do for now. Ellena dumped a small portion into the teapot and waited for the tisane to steep.
The process of brewing tea normally calmed her through its repetitive process, but not today. Ellena's eyes fell onto the wedding gown hung on the back of the wardrobe. It was a beautiful piece, much more ornate than the one she'd worn for her first marriage. The gown was fashioned from a steely gray fabric, designed in the southern style, with red embroidery and garnets flowing across the bodice like Weirwood branches.
'Or blood, more like,' came the thought unbidden.
The sleeves were made of whisper thin myrish silk, which had been skillfully smocked at the top to look almost like dragon scales, flowing down to the ground. It was an extravagant dress, meant to show the new bond between the north and the south through her body. None of the dress had crossed keys or the bright purples of House Locke, it was like her prior marriage had never even happened.
Ellena poured the tisane into a cup and gave it a sip. The bitter, herbaceous flavour made her wince at first, but Ellena guzzled the cup until it was dry, before refilling it and repeating the process until the teapot was nearly empty. Afterwards, Ellena felt slightly bloated, her mouth tasting of mint and roses, but at least the migraine had dulled. Not gone. The sharpness was there, but it felt less like Ellena had been stabbed through the eye.
By the time the maidservant returned, bringing other handmaidens with her to prepare for the wedding, Ellena could almost pretend the noise of the day did not bother her. Almost. As she was bathed, her body scented and softened with oils, preparing her body for a man she barely knew, Ellena wondered what a wedding day with someone she loved would be like. Would she be giddy during this process? Would she be eager to give herself towards her husband? She didn't know.
Eventually, after Ellena's hair was tugged and plaited into an intricate hairstyle that made her head reel, her body laced into the wedding gown, mouth painted with southern rouge, eyes drawn with kohl, she was ready. As she stood in front of her body length mirror, Ellena admired the work of her unnamed handmaidens. She met her eyes in the mirror, realizing that she looked beautiful, but dangerous, like a leashed direwolf.
~
The carriage ride to the Sept was short, but with the royal procession, it took much longer than expected. Inside the wheelhouse, Ellena sat across from her father and mother, the latter of which who covered her nose with a scented handkerchief to mask the scent of the city.
"I do not understand how anyone in the South can bear the scent of this city," remarked her mother, Alyssa Stark, her nose wrinkling.
Barthogan Stark gave a smile and chuckled, "I'm sure they get used to it, with time. Much like how us northerners grow a thick hide during the winter, the southerners must grow a thick set of nostrils," he joked, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.
Ellena snorted, picturing a person with a large nose, with nostrils the size of pinholes.
"That's my girl. I was wondering where that smile had gone," said Barthogan.
"She's probably stressed, my love, it is not everyday a Stark marries a Targaryen," replied her mother.
"She's right. I am nervous," Though that was only part of the truth, "It is hard not to be when you are marrying a man with six children."
Her father nodded, "You are good with children, they will like you. And besides, the amount of children shouldn't frighten you. Two of them are grown, and one is at the citadel so you really have to worry about three of them. Think about your grandmother! She married your grandfather when he already had five young children, and then went on to bear four more sons and a daughter. You could have it worse."
"You were one of those children, I believe, father." Ellena joked, the side of her mouth quirking into a smile.
"And a right terror I was," He winked.
"Still are," responded her mother with a smile.
"What I mean to say, dear child, is that you will be fine. It may be daunting, but you can weather any storm ahead, for far worse ones are on the horizon," he said in an attempt at comfort, "you know our words."
"Winter is coming," came the words she'd been drilled with since birth. The one solid truth that she'd known her whole life.
He nodded, "Good girl. I am proud of you."
Her mother gave a soft smile, "We all are."
Ellena smiled, though it did not meet her eyes, because she became aware that the carriage had stopped. It was time.
Next Chapter
Author’s notes:
The wedding (and wedding night 😉) happens next chapter, weeee!
I thought I’d do a little debrief as to why I chose to make Ellena a migraine sufferer. As a person with migraine attacks, I find there is something so gothic about the isolation that comes with having a migraine. You are forced to sit in the dark, alone, without light smell or sound. And when you can’t do that? You have to force yourself to do things even when your body is screaming no. (Which is stupid and we will see the consequences of that)
