"You're older, act like it."
You glare at the septa as you stand in the doorway, back turned.
"And where do you think you're headed to, young lady?"
"Somewhere away from you," you practically seethe, as you stomp away.
You hear audible gasps from some of the girls, obviously Sansa and Jeyne, and a loud roar of mirth erupt from Arya. You smirk, until you hear the sounds of the Septa's shoes clack on the floor.
"Don't think your lady mother won't be hearing about this, (Name)," she shrieks.
You turn on your heels, seeing her face redden in anger, with her hands placed on her hips, lips pursed.
"On the contrary, I do think. I wonder of the same could be said of you though," you retort icily.
And without another word, you are headed away, to the safety of the old gods.
-
As soon as he sees the reddish black flash of your hair, he's off to the heart trees. Nobody would notice his disappearance, that seemed to be one of the perks of being baseborn.
"(Name)," he calls out softly.
He is greeted by the sound of whimpers but soon you are on him, your sweet scent invading his nostrils. He takes a moment to steady himself and when he does, he holds you tightly.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything," you look up at him, the steel grey eyes of a Stark meet, only yours are tinged with red.
His fingers tangle themselves in your hair and stroke it gently, "tell me."
And like glass shattering, you break down into his arms.
YOU ARE READING
|| υиσятнσ∂σχ || ʝσи ѕиσω χ яєα∂єя ||
Fanfiction|| jon ѕnow х reader || (2nd aѕoιaғ/ gaмe oғ тнroneѕ draввle ѕeт) It was known but unwise, for a highborn girl to fall for bastards. Even more so if he was her half-brother.
