Northern at Heart [ GoT ]

O N E

lady marla ashwood
age 17

"I ASK THE WARRIOR TO GIVE ME STRENGTH IN THESE TRYING TIMES..." Marla whispered to herself, staring up at the old weirwood tree, the wind rustling through its red leaves. She rarely prayed, but soon King Robert and his whole flock of Southerners were arriving in Winterfell. She trusted that Seven would watch over her once those godsforsaken people arrived.

The gods know King Robert is a better fit for the Iron Throne than the Mad King was, yet the Baratheon irked her nonetheless. He's a fat, drunken whoremonger who acts like anything but a king. Or so she's heard. She tended to refrain from listening to such rumors, but she couldn't help herself when the handmaidens were gossiping.

She didn't care for the Lannisters, either. A Lannister always pays his debts, they say. Those blonde-headed twats think they rule the damn Seven Kingdoms and everyone around them should fall to their knees and lick their boots, Tywin Lannister most of all. She didn't know much of Cersei and Jaime—the rumors, of course. Their incestuous relations. She knew Jaime was a good swordsman, but she also knew he was the Kingslayer. Of course King Aerys deserved to die, but that doesn't justify Jaime Lannister's actions.

"What are you praying for?" A voice pried from behind Marla. She turned her head in curiosity; Jon Snow. The bastard was quite fond of Marla, and she enjoyed his company as well. They once had both been outcasts of Winterfell, and during that time they found consolation in each other.

"Nothing, really. Glorious King Robert should be arriving soon, I hear. I suppose I'm praying for a quick visit so we won't have to deal with those Southerners for too long."

"I hear Prince Joffrey is a vicious little cunt," Jon adds with a chuckle, kneeling beside Marla.

"Wouldn't surprise me...people say he's the product of incest between our dearest Queen Cersei and her beloved twin brother, Jaime."

"Have you talked to my father? About...Jon Arryn?" The bastard asked with hesitation. The Lord of the Vale was Ned Stark's most trusted friend and mentor, and his death had come as a shock. Of everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, his death had affected Lord Stark most of all.

"I'm not his daughter."

"He loves you, even if you aren't his kin. It would mean something if you gave him your condolences," Jon replied, staring at the girl with hopefulness.

"I might say something later...I don't want to bother him." 

"Lady Marla, I've come out here to—" Jon begins, clearing his throat, but Marla cuts him off with a snicker.
"When it's just you and me, Jon, you don't have to call me lady."

"—Marla, Lady Catelyn requested I escort you to the seamstress to have a new dress made for the king's arrival," Jon finishes. Marla rolls her eyes exhaustedly.