"You're eighteen now, and it's about time you wed" my father declared sternly, handing me a pair of parchments, letters sent by suitors, vying for my hand, haggling with my father over my dowry. As his only child, I would one day inherit my father's lands, though my husband would likely usurp the titles and powers for himself. In order to keep our family name, my father insisted that I must marry some distant relative, as repulsive as that seemed to me.
I skimmed them both briefly, growing more repulsed by each name. "Cousin Samwell...or Uncle Harwin...?" I mumbled softly under my breath. Sam was a brute and a bully, while Harwin was fat and twice my age. "No." I answered back with my own cold tone. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life locked away in a castle tower as some broodmare" tossing the papers at my father's feet in defiance. "If I must marry, at least let it be someone adventurous. A Farman, or Velaryon, or someone from the Shield Isles" unable to keep from imagining a lean, handsome sailor, following me along on some distant voyage.
My father's face contorted in anger, his dark brow furrowing at my insolence. "Enough with your damn fantasies!" His voice boomed harshly. "You're a highborn girl, not some wildling harlot! Now you will marry one of these men, and put aside your childish follies. If your own sons prove half as willful as you, mayhaps they might even amount to something" the lord scoffed.
"No I won't!" I shouted back, stomping my foot on the stone floor, my deep green eyes ablaze with fury. It seemed the only thing my father and I had in common was our temper. "I'd rather die than marry someone like you! No wonder mother left!"
The slap that followed brought the room to a deafening silence, my cheek bright red from the impact. No matter how heated our arguments had gotten in the past, he never once struck me. "Don't you dare bring your mother into this" my father growled lowly. "You will marry. I don't care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming to the sept myself."
I glared up at him in silence. I was half a hand over five feet, dwarfed by my father at an even six, though we both shared the same strawberry blonde Turnberry hair. My eyes had just begun to water, but no tears trickled yet, doing everything in my power to keep from crying as my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"Go. Make your choice before supper, or else I'll pick for you" my father threatened firmly, pointing at the door, unable to look me in the eyes.
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I ran to my chambers as fast as I could, slamming my heavy oaken door behind me before letting myself cry, my cheek still stinging from my father's hand. "I won't marry Sumner Tarly or Harwin Crakehall or anyone else my father wants" I grumbled to myself through gritted teeth, stuffing my clothes into a sack. "I'll run away. To Dorne or the Free Cities or..." stopping as a book falls from my shelf, splayed open across the floor, some pages slipping out.
With a soft sniffle, I wiped my tears on my sleeve before crouching down to look at the book and its papers. Hardhome: An Account of Three Years Spent Beyond-the-Wall among Savages, Raiders, and Woods-witches, by Maester Wyllis.
I knew this book inside and out, having read it hundreds of times as a child, imagining each winter that I was a Night's Watch ranger, battling giants and bartering with wildlings. I'd always wanted to be an adventurer, studying the stories of Lomas Longstrider, Alys Westhill, and Corlys the Sea-Snake, and their voyages east, west, and south. The longer I reminisced, staring at the old book, the more my mind finally settled. "I'll go North then. Past the Wall where none but wildlings have ever dared to go before'' I declared to myself, gathering up everything I might need, furs, quills, an empty journal, and Maester Wyllis's book.
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The sun had just begun to set when I slipped into the stables, much of the castle's servants and guards having turned in for supper, leaving only a pair of guardsmen at the gates, more focused on flirting with any milkmaid who chanced by than actually protecting the castle. By now I'd changed into my plainest garb, a simple dull gray dress with a brown cloak covering my vibrant strawberry blonde hair. I worked carefully to saddle one of the horses, making sure to be as quiet as possible, glancing over my shoulder occasionally just in case I was being watched. Right as I was about to mount, a sudden clang rang out from behind me, my whole body whirling around in panic.
"M-m'lady...." the boy's voice trembled when he saw me, a bucket rolling around his feet, fresh-forged horseshoes spilled onto the straw-covered floor. He was the same age I was, only about a month or two older, a portly lad with a round face and rosey cheeks pocked with acne, his hair cut into short brown curls.
"Pate!" I hissed sharply in annoyance, my terror quickly turned to frustration. "What are you doing here!" I demanded, keeping my voice down, trying not to attract anymore attention.
Pate looked at me dumbfounded, he was a stableboy after all, where else would he be but around the stables. "Horseshoes...m'lady...for the...horses...." his eyes wide as saucers, darting between me, my horse, and my gear. "A-are you going somewhere...?" His hands trembling lightly.
"Yes. I am. Now get out of my way and don't tell a single soul you saw me. Got it?" Slinging my pack over the horse's back, getting one foot into a stirrup.
