Trueblood || Jon Snow ✓

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 ~ 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘

**Yelena POV**

YELENA SAT ON HER BED IN SIMPLE CLOTHES, reading tales about white walkers as the birds chirped outside. Her room was decorated in yellows, golds, reds and mahogany. A fire burned constantly in the hearth, tended to by the princess herself rather than handmaidens and everything seemed to sway brightly in the breeze. She did have two handmaidens, Rose and Aurora, but she didn't ask much of them, preferring to do things herself. She was reading about the way the walkers could turn one with a touch, transforming the eyes into a brilliant blue when a knock sounded at the door. She looked to Lishay, but the wolf just barked happily, tail wagging.

"It's Lord Stark, my Princess." the guard informed her.

Wasting no time, she jumped off the bed, flinging the door open. She sighed at the guards. "Shoo for a minute will you?" When they left she gave him a rueful smile. "Lord Stark. Might I ask the nature of this visit?"

He smiled. "I have some good news." She raised her eyebrows, urging him to continue. "It's Bran. He's woken up. They think..." he sighed. "They think he'll never walk again, but he's alive and well despite it."

She blinked, a smile slowly crossing her face. "That is good news. Thank you for informing me." On the one hand, it was terrible that Bran would never walk, but he was a clever boy, and deserved to live. He nodded, seeming about to leave, but the whole exchange had felt far too formal, so she jumped forward to hug him. He was off balance for a second, but quickly steadied himself with a chuckle.

When she stepped back, he smiled. "Good day, Princess."

***

When she could no longer stand it, Yelena walked to her desk on top of which sat tiny wreaths of dried flowers, pulling out parchment, ink and a quill. She dipped the quill into the black, but froze mere milimetres from the paper, the words Jon Snow seconds from being written. Her hand shook slightly, and she finally dropped the quill. There were no words he would want to hear from her.

Yelena continued to spend her days reading, training at the sword and bow, and training Lishay as her direwolf grew, teaching her to attack with a snap of her fingers, and fall back again with only a whistle. She read of whitewalkers, and imagined it was them her sword plunged through instead of a dummy. She read of wildlings, and saw their furs and faces when she subdued her trainers. When she hit a bullseye, she pictured it as the kill that would keep her alive in the long night. She fought her trainer, she fought The Hound, she fought her Uncle Jamie. She did everything she could to keep her mind from straying north again. Tyrion was right. It was time she made peace with the terms of her life.

Through the days her parents would check on her, hoping that perhaps she would lay off a bit and let herself rest, but the suggestions fell on deaf ears. There would be plenty of time to behave as expected after the stress of an impending wedding had passed.

Finally the tournaments were beginning, and Cersei burst into Yelena's room with the princess's septa whom the girl hadn't let in for days. It was time to prepare for the games. Her dress was a simple olive green with a few gold patterns and a shawl embroidered with lions and stags. A thin circlet rested delicately atop her southern updo, feeling like it would fall off at any moment. She prayed it would. She kept her wolf pendant around her neck, but well hidden, knowing the sight would not please her mother in the slightest.

She sat in the stands between her mother and Joffrey as her father drank. Thankfully, her brother was pointedly ignoring her. Though she was indeed outspoken, Yelena would hate to disappoint her parents again.

"I've been sitting here for days!" Robert finally shouted, rising. "Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"

Yelena sighed, used to these sorts of embarrassing moments by now. Her mother didn't seem all too pleased either. As the king took his seat again, the queen rose and strode quickly off the dais. Yelena looked after her, wishing she could follow. The Mountain approached on his horse and bowed, the coin master Lord Baelish catching the princess's eye as she watched. The man was speaking with Sansa, something the Princess found a bit worrying.