The Bastard of the North

The Warrior

Kyrin snorted, nearly spitting out a sip of wine she'd just taken. She quickly set the goblet down, her eyes studied her mother.

"You can't be serious." She half stated, half asked. "I don't need a betrothed. I don't need anyone." Her eyebrow raised in a stubborn matter. "Seems like I do oftley damn well without someone to hold me up." The words spilled from her mouth, referencing how her mother was often resentful of her.

Cersei despised Kyrin just as she had despised Robert. She saw many things in her that she saw in her father. She was stubborn, just like him. She was a brunette, just like him. Even though Kyrin had piercing blue eyes, Cersei knew they weren't from her. She believed with great confidence that Kyrin was completely opposite from her. But so did Ky.

"I trust you'll enjoy your stay there."

"They don't own Winterfell, the Starks do. Sansa does." Kyrin hissed.

"Roose Bolton is the warden of the North, and Ramsay his heir now that he has been legitimized by the king." Cersei ignored her ignorance.

"Legitimized? By another bastard?" Ky retorted, pushing herself out of the wooden chair. Her mother's jaw tightened at the sound of the Baratheon insulting her son.

"You will be the wardeness of the North once Roose is dead." Cersei stood slowly, intertwining her hands together. They rested in the middle of her torso as she walked to her daughter. Her stunning red and yellow dress rustled as she approached the brunette. Red and yellow; they were the Lannister colors. Kyrin never wore Lannister nor Baratheon colors. She tended to stray away from tradition, wearing a pure white dress. Kyrin read once that the color white was meant to respresent death. Although not many others new that fact due to them being illiterate, she was interested by it nonetheless.

"I was born here," Kyrin turned to her with a glare now fixated on Cersei. "I was born here, I was raised here. In the South, not the North. Why should I help rule the North when you and I both know my ass should be on that throne."

Cersei was taken back, but never broke eye contact. She quickly regained her wits, opening her mouth to speak, but hesitant. Kyrin raised her eyebrows as if that would help her muster her thoughts.

"You have to understand, my darling." Her mother knew she purely hated when she called her that. "I have to put Joffrey on the throne and form an alliance with the Tyrells." She lied easily through her teeth, but Kyrin knew better.

"Since when did you think that was a great idea? I do recall you once saying anyone who is not us are our enemies." The Baratheon spat, lessening her glare.

A creek from the wooden door came from behind the two women. Their attention was drawn almost immediatley to it. It was just one of the servants.

"House Bolton is here, your grace." The boy looked at the Baratheon girl wearily after he spoke.

"Wonderful." Cersei replied in an unenthusiastic tone.

The prominent blonde lead Kyrin to what she presumed was her death. Nevertheless, she kept her wits and canning ways by her side as her only defense. She wanted more than ever to have a blade in one hand and a shield in the other.

Tommen, her bastard brother and now the King, since Joffrey was harshly murdered at his own wedding, joined them on there walk. Kyrin admired Tommen; he was a sweetheart, much better than her vicious brother Joffrey. Late brother. Though she preferred Tommen over Joffrey, she didn't think he was fit to be king. A pushover for a king would not be wise.

The guards at the tall double doors they approached quickly grabbed the handles and pried them open for them. One of them glared at Kyrin, making her wonder what sort of lies Cersei had been telling them. Or truths.

The sun was bright, blinding the three before their eyes could adjust. Giant banners came into focus. They were black with a man whose skin had been peeled from his body strapped to a wooden cross shaped contraption. A group of men, armed with swords and knifes. The sun shone on their silver armor, making the blue eyed Baratheon squint to get a better look at the Boltons.

There was two men and a woman, wearing dark, dreary colors. The man on the far left had a grey stubble and wore fur on his chest and around his shoulder. Roose Bolton. The woman next to him was heavyset, but looked sweet. Looks can be decieving. She was exceedingly shorter than Roose, but seemed to keep close to him. Walda Frey, Rooses new wife. Kyrin was surprised at his choice, but would never voice that opinion aloud.

The last man standing on the other side of Walda had to have been Ramsay, the bastard of the North. This jet black hair fell over his forehead in waves. The closer they got to the family, she started to notice more features about him. His eyes were a piercing blue like Kyrins which corresponded well with his dark hair. His jawline was defined greatly as well as the rest of his strongly structured face. Ramsay's attention was completely drawn to Kyrin as she studied his face, looking away to Walda who was also looking at her. Kyrin offered a smile as her mother began to speak.

"Welcome, Lord Bolton." Cersei began with false generosity. Tommen looked to his older sister as if asking what to do, but she only looked at him and back to the Boltons.

"Thank you, your grace. May I introduce my son, Ramsay Bolton." His arm gestured to the black-haired man who stepped forward, much closer to the brunette. A sincere smile was plastered on his face as he kissed her hand, but she didn't know exactly how sincere he really was.

"And my daughter," Cersei choked out the words as if they were poisoned by the devil. "Kyrin Baratheon." Ramsay looked his betrothed in the eyes once he'd risen back, his smile seemed to get wider. She smiled back her infamous fake smile before Cersei's voice gave her something else to focus on.

"Come on in, we wouldn't want to be late for our feast."

Kyrin wanted to go straight to her room and skip dinner, but she knew she couldn't. A girl can dream. Ramsay held out his arm for her to take and she did, letting him lead her into the castle she called home.

They ended up in the dining hall after walking down the corridors and making numerous turns around the many corners of the stunning building. Cersei took the seat at the end of the table, Tommen sitting on the left side, next to her. Kyrin sat next to him and Ramsay sat beside her. Roose and Walda rounded the table to the right side and sat down.

The servants quickly gathered in, setting platters down and taking the lid off dramatically. Seemed like everything had to involve drama in Kings Landing to Ky.

The feast went well, Cersei talked with Roose and Walda, mostly about political events. Whereabouts of certain figures such as Petyr Baelish, who had take Sansa to the Eyrie which now belonged to him. Cersei believed Tryion and Sansa killed Joffrey together, so he had to get her out of Cersei's reach. Her mother didn't know she held such information. Tommen didn't say much, neither did Kyrin. In fact, they never spoke a word that whole evening. Occasionally Ramsay would join in on Cersei and Roose's conversation, but that was about it. Tommen ate approximately half his meal, while Kyrin didn't touch it. Her mind was too preoccupied to think about eating. The rest, however ate nearly everything on their plate.

As soon as the servants came in, Kyrin excused herself from the table. She'd grown tired from all the excitement and was just ready to go to sleep before she was to ride out to Winterfell the next morning.

She held her dress up slightly as she walked up the stairs to her room. The first thing Kyrin did when she got into the room was lock the door. There were an abundance of Bolton soldiers, and by what she's heard of Roose, she would be a fool to trust them. She began to undress, having the odd feeling of being watched. The brunette shook it off, completely undressed now. She kept the loose white under skirt on as her night clothes and slipped under her covers. They were cold, making her shiver until her body got used to the temperature. Many things clouded her mind, most of them being what ifs. Kyrin again shook it off and let herself slowly drift off into a deep sleep.