𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 : A Game of Thrones Story

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Lord Rodner Bolton sat front and center at the Dreadfort's main hall as he awaited the arrival of his younger sister. He had called for an urgent family meeting after receiving a letter of confirmation from House Stark to go through with his now deceased father, Rogar's, final strategy. The Red King Rogar has been a cruel man in his lifetime, known for committing countless atrocities. However, when his beloved Wife Loraena passed alongside a stillborn child, his madness was replaced by regret. The guilt of her loss struck a change in him that caused the downfall of House Bolton. Now young Rodner was left to pick up the pieces.

"Have Grennan and Freya not arrived yet?" Rodner's wife, Mariya questioned as she waltzed into the room with a small smile.

"Not yet." Rodner said as he tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair. "What could possibly be taking them so long?"

"Do not fret, my love." Mariya playfully cooed. "I'm sure the two are in tow as we speak."

Just then, the doors to the main hall opened and Freya, Lord Rodner's seventeen-year-old sister, stepped into the room.

"My apologies, brother." Freya said as she approached him. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Lord Rodner gave her a nod of acknowledgment while his wife flashed a smile. "What were you up to, dear sister?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

Freya took a seat and raised an eyebrow, did it matter what she was up to? She was here, wasn't she? And before Grennan too. "I just returned from a ride, and I am rather tired so if Grennan could hurry up and get here, that would be lovely."

"As if you haven't kept me waiting before, sister." Grennan remarked as he strode towards them. The brown haired young man looked quite disheveled. Almost as if he had been in a rush to get dressed and out of the door.

Mariya noticed this right away, and while she knew exactly what he had been up to, she said not a word.

"Yes, well no one cares if you're kept waiting, bastard." Freya said snidely, tossing her curly black hair over her shoulder.

Grennan's playful expression darkened as he approached his seat. His mouth opened to make a snide remark but Lord Rodner interrupted. "Enough of that. Both of you." He commanded.

Freya shot Grennan a smirk, then turned her attention to Rodner, "Why exactly have you summoned us here?" She questioned.

"I'm glad you ask, sister." Lord Rodner replied, palms folding over the table. "It seems that our father's final ploy to make amends with the Starks has gone through."

"I have to marry Bronden Stark?" Freya questioned, a hint of anger in her voice. She had never thought the marriage would go through, and had been counting on the Starks saying no.

Lord Rodner nodded. "Yes. The Starks have agreed and it was our father's final wish." He replied.

"So..." Grennan interjected. "What you mean to say is that the glorious Bronden Stark has yet to find a match after all of these years?" The bastard chuckled out.

Freya crossed her arms, she was not pleased about the match, the Starks were their enemies, she had been upset enough when their father had bent the knee and now she was being forced to marry into their family? It was a ridiculous notion...

"Enough, we are not here to make jokes." Lord Rodner reminded his brother, although a proud smile threatened to form on his lips the moment his wife took his hand. Once upon a time, Mariya Ryswell was the jewel of the north. Everyone wanted the sharp beauty to marry into their ranks. House Stark and House Bolton were no exception. However, when the time came Mariya chose Rodner as her suitor to the dismay of all. Even to this day.