For so long, the Targaryens have been ruling the Seven Kingdoms, until the great Betrayal happened, ending their era of Terror, brought by the Mad King, and along that, killing the most peaceful and art-loving of dragons- Rhaegar Targaryen.
She was only 7 years old, along with her brothers, Viserys and Jaehaerys, when they had to hide away, and when she vowed revenge on those who killed her beloved elder brother.
Being Jaehaerys' elder twin sister, she got along much better with the boy, unlike with the snobby Viserys, and they became partners in crime, sparring and learning how to fight together.
That is what got them both to make a pledge to themselves, sworn in twin blood, to form an army big enough to reclaim the throne for their family. That was much easier said than done, since nobody would take two skinny children seriously, and with their mother dead, and other two siblings taken away to safety to another unknown place, they had to find a way to triumph too.
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Years passed, and with that, Visenya Targaryen, now called Y/N, became the respected leader of a great army of Mercenaries, whilst her brother, Jae, fought alongside her, being the Great Warrior.
All was going well for them and it seemed like they were passively conquering most of the Northern Half of Westeros, until one day when they stumbled across a wounded man, who seemed unconscious.
On further inspection from the girl, she recognised the small banner symbol sewn into his tunic as the one of the Flayed Man and deduced the identity of the man, yet kept it a secret, only taking away his weapons, cutting away any evidence of his House, then got two men to get him on her horse.
Stopping at the first tavern, the girl paid for the expenses and made sure to stay there until the man made a decent recovery. Who knows, maybe she could get some money out of it?
Or better, a favour?
Apart from the Starks, the Boltons were powerful as well up there in the North, if only their treachery was diminished.
Due to her great knowledge in healing, and her brother going ahead of her with most of the army, the girl managed to treat the young Bastard into making an almost full recovery, and yet, he still seemed a tad hazy from all the Milk of the Poppy given.
Ramsay: Who...are you?
Y/N: Nobody important.
Ramsay:Then why save me, wench?
Y/N:You are rather rude with your saviour. Mayhaps I should have let you there to rot.
Ramsay:Might have been wiser of you.
Y/N: Maybe so.
Ramsay:Why are you still here?
Y/N: Fate. I won't bother you much longer, Lord Snow , so fear not. I already paid for your expenses as well. Farewell, little flayed man.
Ramsay:Halt! I'm not allowing you to leave until you reveal your name to me, stranger! You seem to know an awful lot about me.
Y/N: *chuckles* Such authoritarian words from one such as you, barely alive and very much wounded. Might I say, you amuse me so. Fine then, be that way, and may our paths cross once more, Ramsay Snow.
Ramsay: You, puny little-...! I will flay you alive next time we cross paths, you impudent...!
Y/N: Bark more, Snow, it seems to run in your family.
Smirking at the boy's shocked and slightly impressed visage, she gathered the few men she held trusty to herself that remained by her side, and went to trace back her brother's tracks, seeing that they went somewhere to the North.
It took many detours and stops, due to weather and enemies getting in their way, but it seems destiny always has a way to play people, in highly entertaining ways.
"Yes, Lord Bolton, I am the chief of this Mercenary Army and I came here by your command. Here is my right hand, we call him Jae, and he proved to be the strongest warrior here."
Looking ahead of her, she saw her brother's army being wrongfully lead by some leprosy, who thought playing mighty in front of Ramsay Bolton, who apparently got back a day before them, would be a great idea.
Her brother seemed amused by this mummer's farçe, but she was his exact opposite, in the matter.
Taking big, but stealthy strides, like a prowling cheetah watching her pray, she took out her dagger and glued it to the man's neck, allowing a few ruby droplets to fall down his soft skin.
