Northern Sun | Robb Stark

Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone! As with my other stories, I wanted to make a note about a few things. One, you can expect the usual Game of Thrones themes of abuse, miscarriage, traumatic childbirth, underage marriage, violence, incest, etc. Two, it will be depressing in many aspects and have a great deal of angst. Three, I am basing this off of the show. I have not read any GoT fanfics, only HotD, so I'm mostly winging this. And four, as with my past fics, the main point is NOT necessarily the love story, it is about the growth of the character! Robb Stark is the intended love interest but the majority of the focus is on the OC's journey.

If you're still interested, go right ahead. For reference, the OC's face claim is Alicia Agneson. If you look up gifs from her role as Freydis/Katya in Vikings, you'll see the image I have of her.

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King's Landing, 298 AC

Death was never far behind.

She watched the Silent Sisters circle the body of Jon Arryn like vultures, examining the man laid to rest in the throne room and looking so peaceful.

Stones covered his dead eyes, eyes that would never see again, that would never wrinkle at the edges whenever she arrived filled with questions or asking for another book that explained the world's mysteries in a way she could understand.

The Hand of the King was gone. And the King, well... there wasn't much he seemed capable of doing for himself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, straightening up as her mother asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Thinking," she said simply. "One moment he was alright, the next... he wasn't. It's been quiet. I don't know what else to do." She sighed, "Joffrey will fall behind in his lessons."

"Nothing he can't learn well on his own," said Queen Cersei. She ran her fingertips down one of her daughter's curls. "Don't trouble yourself with this. Your Father will find another Hand."

"He was good to me," she said. "He listened, unlike Father. He did the things that needed to be done. Teaching me, teaching Joffrey." She looked down at her hands. "He was here."

Instead of drinking and whoring around.

"Go and find your siblings," beckoned Cersei. "Let the Silent Sisters do their work."

She cast the corpse a final look before striding out of the gallery. She smiled at her uncle, Ser Jamie Lannister, as he walked past her. Probably going to check on her mother. He was the only one who ever did.

Her father never gave anyone the light of day.

She couldn't remember many times that her father had been a father. Or many times that he'd been a King.

Her earliest memory of him was at the age of five when Myrcella was born. She'd sat on her Uncle Jamie's lap the entire birth, both of them refusing to leave her mother's side. And when her little sister came out, curled up and whimpering, her father wasn't there.

He came back from a hunting trip days later and asked that he be presented with his newest child. Cersei had guided her eldest daughter in holding up little Myrcella. He didn't look proud. He only asked what her name was and turned on his heel, expecting them all to be satisfied with whatever animal he managed to kill.

As if that was equally as important as a new Princess.

He wasn't there when Tommen was born, either. Jon Arryn had been the one who asked how the Queen was, who made sure that Robert's heirs were healthy.

The King couldn't give less of a damn about them.

Jon Arryn once answered her honestly, when she asked who Lyanna Stark was and why her father had gone to war for her. At the age of ten she sat at his feet and listened to him talk about Robert's upbringing, about the Starks. About the woman her father truly loved. A woman who'd died because of a selfish Targaryen Prince, son of the Mad King Aerys that her Uncle Jamie had killed.