A/N - This imagine is based on the song 'Shining Light' by Ash. In this story, Brandon Stark (reader's father) was married to another Lady, not Catelyn. I intend to write a second part to this at some point. I hope you all enjoy it.
You had never quite felt like you belonged in Winterfell. Of course, your uncle treated you well from the moment he had learnt of your father's death, but it had never been the same as actually fitting in amongst your cousins.
Sansa was of the belief that you were unladylike, that you refusal to sew was as much a sin as having committed murder. Arya, on the other hand, believed that your love of dresses made you a conformist, and that you were as boring as the other ladies. And the boys, as fun as they were, didn't want you hanging around them every day.
You had decided, whilst still quite young, that you were better off lingering around the adults. Eddard would allow you to sit in on meetings with local households, where you would absorb as much information as possible. And Catelyn, though not fully supportive of your interest in her husband's work, was happy to have you shadowing her as she went about keeping the household.
It wasn't until your sixteenth name day that you realised you didn't have a friend your own age. You had come to prefer the company of older people, and now, it seemed there was no need to make friends with your cousins. Not that they had much interest, either.
When the King and his family came to Winterfell, you had become busier than usual. Helping Catelyn had become the number one priority, and as the oldest, keeping your cousins in check was your lead role. Bran was not to be found climbing at any point. Arya had to be on her best behaviour. And the other's were to make the royal family feel welcome in their home, without becoming too casual in their approach. You wouldn't have to worry about Sansa, she was always good, and Robb could be trusted, but the others would be troublesome, if you weren't careful.
You lined up with the rest of your family, standing beside Theon and hoping to keep his smart mouth from getting the better of him, as it often did, with Jon on your other side, another one you wouldn't have to worry about. The King was nothing like the stories you had read as a child. You had pictured a tall, strong knight, and now, standing before you was a hunched, fat, old king. Disappointing, if you were honest.
You remained quiet, head bowed as the King greeted his old friend. You could hear the small talk and the laughter, and then out of nowhere, something caught your attention. "Which is Brandon's girl?"
Your uncle turned, smiling at you and gesturing for you to step forward. "It is an honour to meet you, Your Grace," you started, giving a long perfected curtsey and smiling softly up at the King.
"Pretty," he muttered, his face roving over your face for a moment. "I would have fought for your father a thousand times over if it had kept him alive."
Your smile faded slightly, "Thank you, Your Grace." The King grunted slightly at that, giving a short nod.
"If there is ever anything you are in need of, consider it done."
"That is very kind, Your Grace."
The King nodded again, turning back to your uncle. "We should pay our respects to the dead."
And then everybody was gone, dispersing into the rest of Winterfell and leaving your somewhat breathless as you stood alone in the courtyard. You glanced around you and straightened up, smoothing down your skirt slightly as you spotted a gathering of people standing some way away. The first, you knew on sight. Joffrey Baratheon, future King, and as Weasley as a boy can be. The second, was perhaps even more recognisable. A hulking great man in armour, with a helm shaped like a hound. Sandor Clegane was anything but conspicuous.
You made your way over to the pair, smiling as you gave a short greeting curtsey. "Welcome to Winterfell, My Prince. I do hope you'll be comfortable here."
Prince Joffrey smiled at you, and you felt sick to your stomach. He didn't have a kind smile, but a malicious one. One that threatened all sorts of evil hidden beneath the surface. "It's not much, but I'm sure it'll do," he started, glancing around himself at the courtyard as you attempted to keep your smile fixed on your lips.
"Many southerners aren't so fond of it," you told him softly, "i've been told it's imposing, by some."
"It's not." The words fired from Joffrey's mouth in an instant, silencing you.
You nodded slightly. "Of course not, you are to be our King. I doubt a place as utterly unassuming as Winterfell could ever phase you, Your Grace."
"Correct," he answered simply, "I'm going to my chambers," he added, straightening out and stalking past you towards the entrance of the keep.
"You should be careful, girl. He doesn't take to kindly to slights like those." The grumble was everything you had been expecting, deep and rough. It suited Sandor perfectly.
"Slights?" you started softly, shaking your head as you smiled up at him, "I have no idea what you mean, Ser."
Sandor snorted at that, wholly unconvinced by your innocent act. "Aye, but you should be carefully, anyway."
You smiled, and gave him a short nod. "Thank you for the warning. I'll bare it in mind."
Sandor shook his head as he moved past you, headed in the same direction the prince had just gone.
*Time Skip*
The feast was going smoothly, for the most part. Of course, you had already had to send Arya to bed due to her inability to sit though her meal without turning it into a food fight. Eventually, once she was out of the great hall, you were able to relax, somewhat. Sitting beside the boys and sipping on a cup of wine as the party went on around you.
Theon leant over the table towards you, tapping on the wooden surface to catch your attention. You leant towards him, smiling. "What?" you asked softly, watching as a smirk came over his lips.
"It looks like someone's taken a fancy to you," he started, laughing as you shook your head.
"If you wanted to flirt with me, Greyjoy, you could have just said so," you teased, though you were unable to ignore his comment, surveying the room slightly before sighing and giving in. "Who?"
Theon chuckled. "You're a lucky girl, Y/N. It looks like the hound wants to make you his bitch."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're disgusting," you muttered, shifting backwards away from him, and catching Sandor out of the corner of your eye as you moved. Theon was right, though it pained you to admit it. He was watching you, not even trying to pretend that he wasn't.
There was no way you could go over to him now. Not only would Theon never let you live it down, but Catelyn would make sure you never heard the end of it. What respectable lady would ever allow herself to be seen flirting with a guard? You could practically hear her scolding you already.
"You're blushing," Theon stated in front of you, receiving your very best glare. A loud laugh burst out of him, and you found yourself smacking his arm lightly.
"Cut it out," you bit at him, voice firm as you raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue.
Theon raised his hands in surrender, still laughing. "Fine," he uttered, shaking his head, "not my fault you've taken a fancy to someone you can't ever have."
You forced yourself not to make another comment, not to allow your true feelings to overflow into conversation. You already knew that Theon had figured out too much, and he had one of the biggest mouths in Winterfell. He was a worse gossip than Sansa. "Whatever," you murmured, lifting your cup to your mouth and taking a deep drink from your wine.
*Time Skip*
For the rest of the King's stay in Winterfell, life had gone the same way. You would go about your business, making sure that all of your visitors were enjoying their stays, and Sandor would continue watching you.
You almost hated how much you enjoyed being watched. Sandor's eyes following you around made you feel wanted; noticed where you rarely were before. You would miss it when he was gone.
But, going about your business had become worlds more difficult once Bran had suffered his accident. Catelyn spent most of her time at his bedside, waiting for him to wake, and you were left to run the entirety of a busy Winterfell.
You were tired, and stressed, and lost under the weight of all of your new tasks. And it seemed that not a soul had noticed. Of course, they were all busy too. Sansa and Arya were readying to leave for the Capital, and Jon for the Wall. Robb was caught up in learning all there was to be known about taking his father's place in Winterfell, and Theon was never any help at the best of times. And poor Rickon, so confused and scared, just wandered around after you most days, hoping that eventually his mother would appear at your side, as she usually would have.
You were completely alone in your struggles, or so you thought. You were attempting to shift logs onto a cart, ready for them to be moved over to the Great Hall before dinner would be served. Even the people working in Winterfell seemed to be too busy to help, leaving you hulking chunks of wood on your own. You had only been doing it for a few minutes when you felt a hand on your shoulder, stilling you.
"Move," Sandor grunted, steering you far more gently than you though he was capable of, out of his way. "Ladies shouldn't be doing this," he added as he pulled his sleeves up. You glanced at the cart, the measly collection of logs you had managed looking rather pathetic to you now.
"I can do it," you started again, moving to step towards the pile again, only to be stopped when Sandor laughed.
"Aye, you can. But the whole place'll be iced over by the time you get done." You watched as he began scooping up the logs, throwing them down into the cart with ease. It had only taken Sandor a couple of minutes to complete the task, leaving the cart heaving with wood. "Where's it going?"
"The Great Hall," you started softly, "I can manage," you continued, watching as he shook his head.
Sandor looked annoyed as he gripped the cart's handle in his hands. "I don't help people often, just take the offer."
You nodded again, following behind him as he began walking towards the Great Hall. You had to move quickly to keep up, almost jogging behind him as he shoved his way through doors with the cart. He paused when he reached the fireplace, glancing at you. "Thank you," you murmured softly, giving him a small smile.
"What do I do now?" Your brow furrowed as you watched him. "How do I build the fire?"
"Oh," you started, taking a few pieces of wood from the top of the cart and crouching to put them in place. "Are there any smaller bits?"
Sandor pulled out a couple of the thinner bits of wood, coming to crouch beside you, watching intently as you took them from him. "Are those okay?"
"Perfect," you uttered, more to yourself than to him, as you situated them in the fireplace. You pulled a flint into your hand, deftly striking it onto the smaller bits of wood until one of them caught. "You have to let it burn for a bit before adding anything else, or you'll end up smothering it."
You sat back, resting comfortably on the hearth, and giving him a sweet smile. "How'd you learn to do that?"
A small shrug was your only answer for a while, your head tilted as you watched the flames begin to grow. "You have to know how to do it in the North or you'll end up freezing."
"Don't you have maids to do it for you?"
You chuckled slightly, nodding. "I do," you murmured, "but I like doing things for myself."
Sandor snorted slightly, and gave you something that was dangerously close to a smile. "I've noticed."
The smile that lit up your face was almost angelic, rivalling the brightness of the flames. Sandor slumped down, a little further from the fire, his eyes fixed on you. "You watch me a lot," you told him softly, your eyes finding him again.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, any hint of a smile gone from his lips.
You shook your head, "you don't need to be," you uttered, bringing your thumbnail up to your lips, biting on it lightly. "Don't go telling anyone, but I quite like it."
"You do?"
You nodded, shifting to look at him properly. "It's nice being noticed," you murmured, drawing your knees up and hugging them close to you.
"Well," he started, pausing as though he was still considering his next few words, "it's been very nice noticing you."
A chuckle escaped you, and you shook your head. "I keep forgetting that you'll all be gone soon." You shifted slightly, taking another log and placing it into the fire, watching as it took flame and crackled under the heat. When finished, you didn't sit back down, as Sandor had expected, instead you shifted ever closer to him, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his gently. "It would have been a shame if you had left before I got to do that," you murmured, pulling away from him and getting fully to your feet. "Safe travels, Sandor."
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