Little Fawn (Game of Thrones)

A Farewell Gift

<Chapter 4>

I wearily open my eyes and yawn. The morning light shines through the cracks of my heavy curtains. I stretch my toes and prop myself up with my elbows. My light nightgown flows from my tiny body as I stand on the wooden floor boarding. The surface is cold against my feet but move around my room. I spin around easily on the smooth surface. I smile and start to glide. It as if I am walking on ice.

"My lady Rowenna?" says my lady-maid, Grace, snapping me back into reality.

I stop dead from dancing and straighten up.

"Yes," I stammer. I feel my cheeks burning red.

"It is time for you to get dressed," Grace informs.

I nod and go over to my mirror. I look at myself. Not in vain, but in curiosity. My small face is pale from the lack of sunlight that beholds Winterfell, but has a doll-like effect on my face. I have a little nose on which dances tiny freckles and a little mouth. But my eyes are large. That is the only thing I remember of my Mother, were her deep, loving eyes. Her eyes were sapphires that reflected to see only the good in people and make them see it. I had gained those eyes but I could never use them like my Mother did.

I blink away the sudden tears and evaluate the rest of body. I have long dark brown hair that reaches my lower back and a slender neck. My slim shoulders carry my thin, bony arms. My chest has developed over the last Summers and there has emerged two petite lumps. I have a thin stomach that makes me look underfed. I slightly turned out hips and thin legs like twigs about to snap. In many ways I look like a pale doll that is to fragile to play with, this is what most strangers think.

Grace begins to take off my nightgown until it drops to the floor. She picks it up, folds it neatly and lays it on my bed for tonight. I am left standing there completely naked. If it were anyone else except Grace I would covering myself up with anything in sight. But Grace sees me naked at least three times a day since the day I came to Winterfell. She was only fifteen when she started. She gasps when she sees me again.

"What?" I ask startled.

"Where did these come from?" Grace exclaims pointing to my various bruises.

"I fell off my horse yesterday," I lie. I didn't want to get Robb and Jon in trouble.

"You are such a clumsy girl," Grace clucked.

I shrug my shoulders.

Grace dresses me in my small clothes. This nameday I will have to start wearing a corset for special occasions. Then a long white undergarment. Then clothes me up with a plain, simple, blue lace-up dress. Finishing off with a brown belt and a matching cloak. She does my hair in a french braid at the back. From the way I look, I am having an ordinary day.

Grace curtsies and leaves my bedchamber. I put on some brown boots and leave my bedchamber.

After I have my morning meal I go outside. It is a clear day and the morning sun peeks though misty white clouds. A few stable men and maids are out in the courtyard but not many. I go over to an archery practise area. A bow and arrow is my preferred choice of weapon. I have been interested in archery for a while now. It requires stealth and agility, which I have. You can kill a man 30 metres away, if you are skilled enough. I pick up the bow with one hand. It is a simple structure for practise. I weigh it in my hand. It isn't exactly right, but it will do.

I hoist a wreath of arrows on my back. I saunter over to the first target. I take an arrow from the wreath and load it in the bow. I pull back the drawstring to my right cheek. I take aim and let out a deep breath.

"Rowenna!" yells a girls voice.

I jump and twist around. From fright I release the arrow. The 8 year old screams and crouches. The arrow misses her by inches.

"Sansa!" I cry. "Are you okay?"

She trembles on the ground. Sansa is quite different from the other Starks. She is more like her mother. A lady more than a warrior.

I kneel down and pick her up like Aunt Catelyn picks up Rickon. I don't care of my dress getting filthy or being scolded. I only care for my little cousin. She is like my sister.

"I am sorry," I apologize, cradling her.

"You are forgiven," she answers.

I kiss her forehead. And let her stand up then I do the same.

"I only came here to give you a farewell gift," she explains.

She holds out to me a pendant. I gasp at its beauty. It has black pearls around it and an autumn fire coloured leaf at the point.

"It's beautiful," I smile and pull her into a hug.

She wraps her tiny arms around my stomach and squeezes. When we let go I clasp the pendant around my neck. She smiles and walks off. I go back to my position and pick up my bow. I reload my bow, aim and let go. I miss the bulls-eye by inches but grin all the same.