Many moons ago I did a portrait of my favorite Tyrell, Willas and in my vanity vowed that I would make similar portraits for all of the Tyrells. Of course that never happened, but over three years later I’ve made this to honor my favorite Westerosi house.
♡ Preferences #1: How the two of you meet [Female Version] ♡
♡ How the two of you meet ♡
Daenerys Targaryen: You first met the Dragon Queen in the city of Mereen, where you had recently been taken after you were stolen away by slavers from your home, the island of Naath. Your master treated you cruelly and beat you, and when Daenerys Stormborn and her Dothraki army took the city, he refused to bend the knee, blinded by his pride. The man died screaming, burnt alive and eaten by her dragons, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, who tore at his meat as if it were a mere snack. The Mother of Dragons was instantly drawn to you, unlike most people, you didn’t flinch or look away in fear when saw the dragons, nor when they roared louder than any warhorn and breathed fire and killed your former master and tore him apart. Instead, you found them beautiful, and magnificent. Daenerys Targaryen told you to take off your collar, and to live freely. You shall have no master, she said. Yet she had saved you from a cruel and merciless fate, you owed your life to her. You vowed to serve her until your death, and the two of you quickly grew close. You soon became one of her closest advisors, and Mereen flourished as a prosperous and peaceful regime under your guidance.
Yara/Asha Greyjoy: You first met Yara/Asha Greyjoy in Volantis, where she and her brother Theon had stopped for food and rest, before sailing East to Slaver’s Bay, where Daenerys Targaryen ruled in the city of Mereen. She’d first noticed you in the crowded market, and was instantly drawn by your radiant beauty, which stood out from the cold, grey crowd. Whenever you’d walk by she’d wolf whistle and eye you up and down cheekily, just to make you flustered as you blushed and hurried off. You were slightly frightened and embarrassed at first, as you’d heard of the ironborn’s boldness, but you became slowly accustomed to her behaviour, and when the two of you finally began talking, you instantly hit it off, and Yara invited you to sail with her. You accepted, as you saw a chance for a more easy and peaceful life, instead of living off stale bread in the dangerous streets of Volantis, surrounded by thieves and brutes. The two of you became especially close when you and her crew sailed out on her Black Witch, where she jokingly taught you how to steer her ship, standing behind you and guiding your hands on the steering wheel, as the wind of the salty sea blew in your hair, which still remained one of your best memories for the both of you.
Sansa Stark: You first met Sansa Stark in King’s Landing, when you, the youngest Tyrell, travelled with your grandmother Olenna Tyrell, your father Mace Tyrell, your sister Margaery, and your brother, Loras, the Knight of Flowers. Your sister was to marry the King, and the whole way to King’s Landing she’d been ecstatic, already thinking about a dream wedding, whereas you and Loras sulked, dreading stepping foot in the Capital. When you’d finally gotten there, and your sister professed her love for King Joffrey, your eyes fell on his betrothed, Sansa Stark of Winterfell. You instantly felt sympathy for her, her face fell from her usual pretty smile, and she looked as if she were about to cry, lost and confused. When the King called off her proposal, and instead promised to marry the Rose of Highgarden, she practically ran off, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, when you ran after her. When you’d caught up to her as she was on her way to her chambers, you comforted her and reminded her of the cruelties Joffrey committed, and how she wouldn’t be a victim of his evil games, after all, Sansa knew that Joffrey was a monster. She began to feel better, and by the end of the evening she was laughing wildly, which she hadn’t done in months. Since that day, you became one of her only true friends in King’s Landing, and the both of you stayed by each other’s side.
Arya Stark: You met Arya Stark, when you, the daughter of Lord Umber, was staying in Winterfell since your father was Lord Eddard Stark’s bannerman. You were training with Robb in the yard, where many of the Stark children, including Arya, had circled around to watch. The young she-wolf was instantly drawn to you, since you were one of the few people she had ever seen handling a blade so well for your age, and even beat Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, and the heir to Winterfell in combat. The two of you became close when you’d rounded an unknown corner one day, only to find Arya training with a dummy, with a small, thin sword in hand - Needle. When she finally took notice of your presence, she gasped and blushed red, embarrassed to have been seen with a sword, only for you to smile warmly, and correct the way she was holding the blade, before turning on your heel and walking away. Since then, Arya had undoubtedly fallen head over heels for you.
Ellaria Sand: You first met Ellaria Sand when she and Oberyn Martell had travelled to King’s Landing for your nephew’s marriage, in which he was to wed Margaery Tyrell. You were the middle child of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, and had refused to leave Tyrion alone to face Oberyn Martell, who was known for his hate of Lannisters. You’d entered Littlefinger’s brothel, and of course found the Red Viper himself, and his paramour Ellaria there, surrounded by half a dozen of Littlefinger’s finest whores. You weren’t surprised of this, Oberyn and his paramour were known for their vast sexual appetites, yet what did surprise you was the way Ellaria kept staring at you, instead of Tyrion, or the heavily armed City Watchmen that surrounded them. Her eyes were transfixed on you, as if hypnotised, before she leaned into Oberyn’s ear and whispered something, before they both chuckled and look back at you. Tyrion sighed. “I would appreciate it if you and your lovely paramour would stop eye-fucking my dear sister/brother”. You flush immediately, and gape at Tyrion, while the two lovers laugh, Ellaria still gazing up at you.
Margaery Tyrell: The two of you met when you and your family had been summoned to King Renly Baratheon’s tourney, during the War of the Five Kings. As your family was one of his allies, and your father his bannerman, it was only natural that you had to travel to Storm’s End, as much as you didn’t want to. The kingsroad was dangerous, and these were dark times. Despite this, you rode out with your family and guards, dreading the arrival. Storm’s end was named such for a reason. It was known for it’s stormy seas and cold nights. However all this changed when you entered Dragonstone, and were greeted by Renly Baratheon, and his new Queen, Margaery Tyrell. She was beautiful and kind, and instantly made you feel welcome as the two of you chatted amongst yourselves during the tourney. She too, was intrigued by your gentleness and intelligence, and dreaded the time when her husband would call her off to their chambers for the night, wishing she could stay and talk to you for as long as she could before you had to travel back to your ancestral home.
Brienne of Tarth: You first met Brienne of Tarth during the War of the Five Kings, when she’d returned to the North with Lady Catelyn Stark. You were the child of Rickard Karstark, and had the honour of fighting in the Vanguard, beside Robb Stark and his bannermen. While the bannermen were preparing to attack Jaime Lannister’s forces at Whispering Wood, the soldiers made campfires all around, and were having a pleasant time over food, wine and sharing various stories from all around Westeros. You were having a fairly good time, and noticed Brienne of Tarth standing alone, by herself next to Lady Catelyn’s tent. “My lady, I insist you join us, we have a fire going, and plenty of food and wine”. You said, smiling, yet her calm complexion remained the same. “I swore an oath that I would protect Lady Catelyn”. Brienne was a painfully honourable women, a trait many admired. “We’re not facing any danger, are we? Lady Catelyn has plenty o’ guards defending her should there be any threat. Come, you look hungry, and tired. Some food and the warmth of a fire would do you good”. You weren’t lying. She was clearly tired, and her eyes were slightly red, whether from exhaustion or tears you couldn’t tell. But you did know the death of the King she loved and swore an oath to protect was dead, and it was taking it’s toll. But wordlessly, she agreed and joined you around the fire. You’d filled her a cup of wine, when an obnoxious boy squealed, “Aah! Brienne the Beauty, how does m’lady fair?” He grinned a toothy grin, while the men around cackled out loud. You frowned. You knew that nickname. Brienne the Beauty. It was often used as mockery for the poor woman. And yes, it wasn’t as if Brienne was particularly alluring. Her hair was a nest the yellow colour of straw, her teeth prominent and crooked, her nose had clearly been broken more than once. But her eyes. Her eyes were large, and blue shade of the sea by day. Her beautiful eyes were innocent and pure. “Take a look at yourself, you fucking son of a pox-ridden ass”, you growled, glaring ferociously at him, before he and the other men got up and wandered off, not daring to argue against a child of Lord Karstark. A quiet, timid “Thank you”, arose from Brienne, “for standing up for me”. You smiled. Ever since then Brienne had a soft spot for you, and swore to protect you from any harm.
Ygritte: You first met the wildling girl during an expedition beyond the wall. Your hard work had payed off well, and you were picked as a ranger, and part of a small scouting group sent beyond the wall to search for Benjen Stark, the First Ranger.. When camped out at the Fist of the First Men, you had run into a dozen of wildlings. Jax, Emmet, Fornio and you were forced to kill nine of the wildlings, who refused to drop their weapons and attempted to attack you, but managed to capture three. One of whom was a quick-witted, bold redhead, who had teased you nonstop the entire time. By the time your brothers were asleep, you were still awake, listening to her voice, teasing you of your commitment to the Night’s Watch, joking that you couldn’t take a woman, reciting lines in a deep, gruff voice such as “I am the sword in the darkness”, or “I am the watcher on the walls for this night, and all nights to come”, before giggling at her own banter. As much as you tried to find her aggravating, she brought a ghost of a smile to your lips, and instead you found her amusing. Everyone had made out the free folk to be savages, and brutes, thieves and murderers, rapists and beasts, yet here was one of them, with you wrapped around their finger.
Cersei Lannister: The two of you first met in King’s Landing, where you travelled in stead of your father, Prince Doran Martell, to a grand tourney, in the name of the new ruler, King Tommen. As much as Cersei longed to hate a Martell, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. When Cersei watched you step out of the carriage in front of the Red Keep, she took note of your grace and beauty, but did not expect for you to be hand-in-hand with her daughter, Princess Myrcella. Cersei gaped, eyes open wide with shock as if she were a deer caught in the headlights, wondering if she was dreaming or if her daughter, the one she hadn’t seen in years, was standing there, a mere few metres away from her. Getting over her initial shock, she ran over and hugged Myrcella as if her life depend on it. “My sweet baby lioness”, she whispered, stroking Myrcella’s blonde Lannister locks. “It is an honour to meet you, your grace. I hope you are not angry with me for bringing Princess Myrcella, I thought the two you would want to see each other.”, a sultry voice called out. Cersei turned around and met with those wild Martell eyes. “Yes, thank you, Princess/Prince. I appreciate your kindness to reunite me and my daughter”. Cersei kept her cool complexion, yet beneath that cold exterior, her heart was pounding fiercely with longing. She was enchanted, and wished to get to know you better.
Can you write something where all the Targs are still alive and The Starks come to court, and Aerys is a total creep to Sansa, so Jon comforts her in the gardens later??
@letjonsnownap here’s your fic drabble that somehow turned into a 5k story!
Jon Targaryen was not meant for Sansa Stark.
Rhaegar had arranged for Lady Stark to travel to King’s Landing. She was to be presented as a candidate for betrothal to Aegon. Sansa’s mother and father would accompany her.
The castle’s hallways buzzed the day the Starks arrived. Jon stood next to Viserys and Aegon, the Iron Throne looming behind them.
Jon had grown accustomed to attractive girls appearing at court. Margaery Tyrell, the “Rose of Highgarden,” had shocked the throne room last month with her scandalous attire.
But Sansa Stark took Jon’s breath away when the crowd parted to give her passage.
Sansa was beautiful, poised, graceful in her lavender gown. She curtsied to the court. The lords and ladies looking down from the balcony murmured as she stood.
Rhaegar welcomed her. King Aerys had “fallen ill”, as he did more and more often these days before highborn families came to King’s Landing. Rhaegar had decided that a raving, drooling king did not inspire confidence in the realm, and had deftly sequestered Aerys in his rooms.
“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Sansa. You must dine with us tonight. We’ve prepared a feast in your honor.”
Jon bit back his frustration. The Starks had traveled far, but Rhaegar wouldn’t give them a single night to recover from their journey. That was his father’s way. If Rhaegar was ready to drink and dance, the court would follow suit, and entertain him.
The great hall was transformed that evening. Candlelight illuminated the room. The dining tables were heaped with golden dishes. Musicians were stationed in the corners, making sure there would be a “merry mood,” as Jon’s father liked to say. The dance floor was polished to a shine.
Jon resisted the urge to scratch the black wool on his arm. The Targaryens at the high table were dressed in their most expensive black and red finery. Rhaegar had forbidden members of the court from wearing House Targaryen’s colors, so the royal family would stand out “like jewels in a setting.”
Jon rather thought they looked like a slightly ridiculous small army, especially because Daenerys and Rhaenys were visiting Dorne.
Aegon was the picture of courtesy when the evening began. He briefly lavished attention on Sansa, kissing her hand, telling her how lovely she looked. He danced with her only a few times, though, before he got well into his cups. Jon sighed. He’d seen this before, and he was sure he’d see it again. Aegon found the girl dull, and had dismissed her.
Sansa resumed her seat next to her father. She seemed withdrawn, thought you had to look closely to see it. Jon’s heart went out to her.
“Gods, stop mooning,” Viserys hissed into his ear. Jon could smell the wine on his breath. “Go talk to her. I’m sure Rhaegar won’t mind. You’re her cousin. Family bonds and all that.”
After nearly a year of speculation Arya
Stark the second daughter of the powerful businessman Eddard Stark finally
confirmed her relationship with Gendry Baratheon oldest son of Robert Baratheon
and his short lived marriage to ex-wife Alys Waters. Mr Baratheon, 24, the heir
to the super-car franchise Storms End Stags was seen accompanying Miss Stark,
19, to the latest release of her sister in law Margaery Tyrell’s fashion line The Rose of Highgarden. Miss Stark bassist
of the critically acclaimed Rock band The Direwolves along
with other members her brother Robb Stark, 24, Theon Greyjoy, 24 and cousin Jon
Targaryen, 24. Miss Stark and Mr Baratheon seemed to be showing a large
quantity of affection around each other. Let’s hope that this is the joining of
the two most powerful families in all of Westeros.
can you do a one shot of jon winning the tournament and crowning elia queen of love and beauty? (you mentioned it in your headcanons about rhaenys and aegon and I think this would be the sweetest thing ever)
He doesn’t know how he got here, how the two Kingsguard who had entered the joust had been eliminated or by whom, all he knows is that he’s facing down Willas Tyrell. An excellent jouster, Jon is all too aware, but Willas doesn’t have the same motivation. He would probably crown his sister or his mother, ladies that had been crowned before and would be crowned again.
No, Jon has to win this.
It takes five rounds, enough to make him begin to doubt himself—what would he do if he lost?—but then his lance catches Willas right beneath the shield, and the next thing he knows, the rose of Highgarden is lying on the ground. It takes Jon a second to realize what’s happened, that he’s the victor, and when he does he scrambles to help Willas to his feet, then remounts to accept his prize.
The roses are yellow this time, but they would have to do.
Briefly, he wonders what Rhaenys would do if he gave them to her. Probably throw them back at him. Sansa would love them; it might even put him in her good graces for a fortnight.
But no. As fair as they both are, he will not crown them this day.
Queen Elia stares at him in disbelief when he stops in front of her, but he’s come too far to turn back now. “Your Grace,” he announces, “I wish to remedy a mistake nineteen years gone. Please accept these for your suffering, and for your beauty.”
For one panicked moment he wonders what will happen if she doesn’t accept them, if she called him as despicable as his father for merely existing, but she doesn’t do either. She looks down at the roses on her lap, and when she meets his eyes again, there is a small, but real, smile on her lips. Wordlessly she hands her gilded crown to her daughter—who, he notes with more than a little self-satisfaction, looks completely at a loss—and replaces it with its flower equal.
“The mistake is not yours to remedy,” she tells him quietly. “But thank you.”
He nods in acknowledgement, and as he rides off towards the stables, he feels like a weight has been lifted. From him, at least, though he can’t speak for the queen. She was right, it’s not his mistake to make reparations for, yet all his life he’s lived in the shadow of his father’s actions. Although he considers Elia’s treatment of him fair—that is, almost no treatment at all—there’s always been a part of him that’s wanted her to say, I don’t blame you, Jon. Not that he thinks she does blame him, exactly, but he’s not felt welcomed either.
She doesn’t go so far as to dance with him, as is often customary for the Queen of Love and Beauty and her champion, though he didn’t expect her to. Even more, he doesn’t expect the knock that comes at his door later that night.
Figuring it must be Arya come to ask him more about the joust, or Robb come to make excuses, he is dumbfounded to see not one of his cousins, but his sister. Well, half-sister. He had clearly been an afterthought on her part, for it appears she was in the middle of preparing for bed and can’t decide whether she meant to come at all.
“Did you need something?” he prompts, after several moments of silence.
“I just—” She takes a breath. “Look, I don’t think I’ll ever like you, all right? But what you did today, it…it was very noble. There must surely be some Northern girl you’d have liked to crown but you crowned Mother instead because you knew people would be here to see it, and I just wanted to say that it did not go unappreciated. By Mother, or…or by me.”
Knowing full well that levity is a gamble, he asks, “How many times did you turn around before knocking?”
“Six,” she says. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking this means we’re friends.”
“What does it make us?”
“I don’t know.”
It’s better than he thought he’d get, all told. An uneasy truce is miles better than hostility. “Rhaenys,” he says as she turns to leave, “have a good night.”
“I will,” she says stiffly. He thinks she’s going to leave it like that, but then– “And you…Jon.”
• Addam Tyrell is the oldest son of the Lord of Highgarden and heir to the house. He’s a skilled swordsman and excels at riding, hunting, and jousting, but he also takes interest in the aesthetically inclined arts. He’s a talented musician who prefers to play the harp and sing to sparring, but that is something he keeps secret, knowing his father wouldn’t approve.
• His father is a cruel, hard man who is harsh towards Addam and wants him to be the perfect son he’s dreamed up in his head. There was an incident with a kitchen boy when he was 16 that led to his father beating him. Addam made sure never to show interest in another man again. His father, in defiance, starts looking for a potential wife for his son to marry. Somehow the ladies never seem to be maidens when they leave the castle.
You hadn’t been to the north in years and you had never travelled as far as the Stark home so you felt slightly out of place as you were ushered into the main hall.
The looks you had been receiving since the moment you stepped through the gates are those that you had gotten used to over the years. You knew what people thought when they saw you-how easily their fear and envy rose within them.
You were from Highgarden, the younger sister to Margaery and Loras and arguably, the most well-known Tyrell in decades.
Your profession was relatively uncommon among women and even more rare because you came from such a Great House. You had been trained more than most soldiers-your skills far exceeding theirs at times.
Standing opposite the King in the North and the familiar auburn haired girl, you couldn’t help but let your guard down.
A smile filled your face as you took Sansa in, “You’re looking well,” you told her.
Tyrion had forgotten that for some people, Christmas was a big thing. It
was always a tense and boring affair at the Lannister household, and
was rather surprised when Sansa said she wanted him to come to her
Christmas family dinner. He accepted the invitation, of course, how was he supposed to refuse his beloved girlfriend? It didn’t mean he was looking forward to being under the scrutinizing glare of Eddard and Catelyn Stark.
Fortunately, Sansa was not the only one bringing her lover to meet the family: Robb Stark had the Highgarden rose with him and Jon Snow had the Targaryen girl beside him. Tyrion was terribly uncomfortable at first, taking every question as a trap, but slowly, with Sansa’s hand on his, and the laugh and the children antics, he slowly relaxed.
“So,” his beautiful auburn haired lady asked once the meal came to an end, “Was it so frightening, being surrounded by wolves?”
Tyrion kissed her hand.
“How should a small lion as me be scared when he has the bravest she-wolf by his side?”
Sansa laughed, and it sounded like music to his ears.
“I think the title of bravest she-wolf should go to Arya. But your compliment is more than appreciated.”
They kissed, and Tyrion couldn’t remember a sweeter Christmas than this one.
(He also had a good laugh when he read a text from Jaime informing him he had ditched the Lannister Christmas dinner to spend the evening with ‘his wench’)
Jaime Lannister – The
personality trait that Jaime would find the most endearing would have to be (I want
to say talent with a blade but that’s a physical thing sooo), like his sister,
cunning. (Besides beauty, why else would he like Cersei….i feel like she mocked
him and crap as a child as well so it wasn’t because she was nice to him.)
Oberyn Martell – The
personality trait that Oberyn would find the most endearing would have to be your
sass. Whether up front or hidden most of the time, he would just love your
sudden “spitfire” nature that comes out when you’re annoyed or just having a
Dolorous Edd – The
personality trait that Edd would find the most endearing would have to be your
happiness. Being on the wall, all he sees is snow and men who have turned
harsh. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh brightens his day every day.
BAElish – The personality trait that Littlefinger would find the most
endearing would have to be willingness to try anything once. It opens a lot of
opportunities for him, and possibly brings in a good bit of coin as well.
Willas Tyrell – The
personality trait that Willas would find the most endearing would have to be
your intelligence. Being the heir of Highgarden, he has met plenty of noble
ladies in his life, but he’s attracted to you because you can hold a good,
intellectual conversation with him.
Arthur Dayne – The
personality trait that Arthur would find the most endearing would have to be
your affectionate nature. He always finds your “talent” for caring for him after a battle/joust/training session endearing.
Tyrion Lannister –
The personality trait that Tyrion would find the most endearing would have to
be a mix of your intelligence and your wit. Both traits would match his so well
that he would never have a dull moment when around you.
Jorah Mormont – The
personality trait that Jorah would find the most endearing would have to be
your innocence. With all the evil in the world, it would be refreshing to see
someone so innocent and look at the world in a completely different light than
Sansa Stark – The
personality trait that Sansa would find the most endearing would have to be
chivalry. If you embody traits of a Knight, Sansa (at least early seasons of
Sansa) will take a liking to you.
Margaery Tyrell – The
personality trait that Margaery would find the most endearing would have to be
your ability to sweet talk. Being able to get whatever you want with “honey
words” (hehe, Skyrim things), would most definitely attract the Rose of
Highgarden to you.
Arya Stark – The personality
trait that Arya would find the most endearing would have to be overall
goodness. It doesn’t matter what walk of life you’re from, as long as you’re a
good person to her and others she’ll like you.
Cersei Lannister – The
personality trait Cersei would find the most endearing would have to be your
cunning. Nothing intrigues the Queen more than another who is good at quick
thinking and playing double agent.
Brienne of Tarth – The
personality trait Brienne would find the most endearing would have to be your
honor, your ability to keep vows/oaths, being honor bound herself in everything
Catelyn Stark – The
personality trait Catelyn would find the most endearing would have to be a
combination of traits that pay tribute in a way to her House’s words. Family,
duty, honor. If you love your family and do anything for them, if you’re
dutiful no matter what, and have honor, Lady Stark will find you very
Gilly – The
personality trait Gilly would find the most endearing would have to be your
gentleness. Growing up with an abusive father, she would quickly come to love
you for your kindness/gentleness no matter your size or intelligence.
Shireen Baratheon – The
personality trait Shireen would find the most endearing would have to be your
creativity. A sad and lonely girl isolated on Dragonstone, she would love your
ability to make up entire worlds in your head and approach her with new and
—Chapter 10 of Seeking Serendipity (A Jon Snow Fanfic)—
A/N: We’re at the 10th chapter you guys!!!!!!!! Holy shit!! I never thought I’d get this far writing something. Thank you to all the readers of Seeking Serendipity for their support and love so far.
Word Count: ~ 3k words
A loud, shrill wail carried through the halls of Winterfell, gut wrenching enough to rouse its slumbering inhabitants. Ireyne woke with a start, her heart pounding and vision blurry from sleep.
“Vaera?”, Ireyne called out as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
“My lady!” a voice sounded beyond the closed door. It was only moments before it burst open and her handmaiden rushed in, breathless and scared. Ireyne felt dread seeping through her bones; something terrible had happened, she could tell.
“They’re all alright my lady, it’s Bran Stark.” Vaera panted, her eyes still wide, “He was found near one of the tall towers. They say he fell from a height,”
Ireyne, she was scared to even admit it, was conscious of the wave of relief that surged through her even as she felt her heart sink further. Her family was okay; they were all fine. But that boy was young, so very young…
“And the boy? Is he…”, Ireyne trailed off, not being able to finish her sentence. The notion of the little soul being snatched away was too cruel for her to say out loud.
“No! Not yet anyway… He’s been taken to his chambers and having the maester tend to his wounds. He’s lost a lot of blood already. They - they don’t think he’ll live long.” Vaera explained the situation further.
“How do you know all this? And when did this happen?”
“I heard it from one of Lady Stark’s handmaidens. I was fetching warm water for your bath when I heard people scrambling about. I saw them carry Bran Stark inside and then heard Lady Stark screamed when she came to see her boy. I came here to tell you.” Vaera panted lightly.
So that was the noise that roused me from sleep, Ireyne mused, feeling lightheaded. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend just how terrible Catelyn Stark must be feeling, how terrible it must be to see her son barely hanging on to the thread of life. Ireyne sincerely hoped she would never have to face such a day. She didn’t think she could bear such circumstances.
Ireyne’s mind wandered off to the rest of the Starks - what must they be going through? Putting herself in their shoes, Ireyne knew she would have been terribly upset at having a family member take such a fall. Just moments ago she had dreaded the safety of her own kin, and felt immense relief at their safety even if it meant someone else’s life was on the line. It terrified her to no end.
And Jon - suddenly, Ireyne’s mind turned towards Jon as it did most days now. He was very attached to his family, she knew as much, had seen as much. Gods, what must he be going through? And just the thought, the question, was enough to jolt Ireyne’s senses into actions for she hurriedly jumped up from her bed and began pacing around her room.