Alfred: Okay…How do I answer this without y’all trying to say I have a “daddy-kink”? Alright..technically speaking, Arthurs my dad, so growing up I’ve called him daddy like…three times…..but he’s not my “daddy”. And Ivan isn’t daddy either. When we dated I called him ‘Stargazer’.
Linctavia Week Day 4: Octavia as Lady of Winterfell & Lincoln as a Wildling
Winterfell, 499 AC
She meets him for the first time when she’s out among the trees.
Her brother’s constant focus on her future gets to her sometimes and she heads out there to be alone, surrounded by the wild. It isn’t even that she doesn’t want to be Lady Octavia, because she truly doesn’t mind it too much; but sometimes she just wants the peace of the wood surrounding Winterfell. And then other times, she’s afraid. She’s not naïve, she’s heard the talk—the offers for her hand that her brother’s been declining for her without her knowledge, her part in the trade negotiations that Bellamy’s successfully been able to narrowly avoid agreement to.
But unless something drastic happens, Bellamy will have no choice soon. Her training on being a Lady will someday end, and he’ll have to give her hand to someone. Octavia doesn’t want to leave home, though. She’s not all that fond of the idea of belonging to someone else if she doesn’t get a true choice. More than anything, though, she just wants Winterfell.
So distracted is she by her thoughts, that she doesn’t see the boar charging after her until it’s too late. Her eyes widen, her mouth opens in a scream, and her body is telling her to run, to move out of the way, but it isn’t doing anything. At the last moment, a man comes out of the woods with a spear and stabs the boar.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she stares up at him, looking him over. “I’m Octavia, by the way,” she introduces herself.
“My name is Lincoln,” he answers. He’s not one of her brother’s men, sent to follow her. He isn’t even from around here, she’d presume. Her eyes widen. “You’re on our land!” she exclaims.
The Free Folk have been on peaceful terms with the rest of the realm for over a hundred years now. The wall opens for both sides now, and they roam free, just as anyone is allowed past the Wall now. However, house seats are thought to be off limits. It’s not an official limitation, but Octavia’s been at Winterfell all her life and never see a Wildling before…until now, that is.
The tall man shrugs. “No one lives in the wood between your border and ours,” he says. “It has long been free ground.” He bends down and takes a small knife to the boar, skinning and gutting it.
“Why are you here, then, if you don’t live here?” she asks.
He gestures with his knife to the boar on the ground. “Better hunting.”
“You steal our game?” her head tilts to the side, and the slightest hint of accusation appears in her voice.
“It’s free land.”
“So you say,” she says.
He stands and moves to another area. Octavia watches in fascination as he gathers sticks and fallen wood. It doesn’t take him long to have a fire started. She steps closer to it, grateful for the sudden warmth. “You should learn to protect yourself if you’re going to come out here alone,” he replies, changing the subject abruptly. Octavia doesn’t mind.
“I’m supposed to be a Lady,” she tells the stranger who saved her. “I’m not supposed to need to protect myself. And, usually Lya’s with me. She’d have taken that boar down for me.”
“A wolf is not a knife,” he answers, holding out his own for emphasis.
Octavia straightens and a chill runs across her back. “I never told you Lya was my direwolf.”
“I’m—here…often, I’ve seen you…with the butterflies. The wolf was with you. You called her Lya.”
She smiles and relaxes just slightly. In silence, she watches him tend to the fire and prepare the boar. The sun sets in the sky, but she’s not worried. Lya would alert Bellamy if she sensed that Octavia was in danger, and she’s beginning to become certain she’s not.
She continues to ask questions and he continues to answer, with short, but truthful responses. Octavia finds herself intrigued by him. Finally, once they’ve had their fill of the boar he’d saved her from she stands. “Well, I must get back. They’ll be looking for me soon.”
He nods wordlessly, and, not expecting anything further to be said, she starts walking back toward Winterfell.
“I could teach you,” she hears him say, after taking only a few steps. She turns back to face him. Realizing his statement was ambiguous, he adds, “How to protect yourself—I could teach you.”