Brandon’s perception had left you meek for a few more hours, stunned that the stoic and honorable Stark had been bold enough to kiss the daughter of the Mad King, and to oust you for your ambition in the privacy of his chambers. And afterwards, the way he smiled, as though the two of you shared some grand secret, in full confidence that you wouldn’t rush to tell anyone.
Brandon had left you wanting after him like a lovesick teenager.
Besides your private panic, the preparation for the wedding continued, the Starks reluctantly agreeing to the union at the insistence of the King, and the promise of a new alliance between the two was enticing, to say the least.
Brandon had not since spoken to you, but he always gave you that smile, the one from his chambers, when no one else could see.
It was infuriatingly effective.
That was how you ended up in those same chambers, just past the stroke of midnight, dressed in nightclothes far from appropriate, doing your best to keep your posture relaxed as you heard him approaching.
Mmmm, something cute between Rhaegar’s younger sister (reader) and Arthur Dayne? Maybe he sees her fall and quickly rushes over to check on her. Her leg is all scraped up and she’s trying not to cry but tears are sliding down her cheek. Arthur sees to her injury?”
She’d never been the most graceful princess. Rhaegar often joked that she was always waiting for some Lord to sweep her off her feet, and as such, she was always prepared to fall head over heels. Even as such, Y/N remained unwed. Whether it was her own independence, or her father’s madness, suitors were surprisingly sparse.
It didn’t stop her from dreaming, of course.
Her dreams were littered with fantasies of a valiant lover, of kind heart and pure intentions.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 