You were the Baratheon princess, eldest child of your siblings. Sixteen, and absolutely breathtaking. Blessed with the type of beauty that hurt, that makes your chest tighten, that you cannot even put into words. An angelic beauty. The one that leaves you speechless.

Your father, Robert, had to go to Winterfell to visit the Starks, especially Ned. You and your family followed him, of course.

There, you were mostly alone, as always. You were a bit reserved, after all. Not very close to Joffrey or your mother, your little siblings were too young and your father was busy. So you would spend your time with the little cats around the castle.

Jon, the bastard of Winterfell, had noticed you since you arrived. As he was looking at you again, his brother Robb came with a big smile.

"Staring, aren’t ya’?" He smirked, his voice making Jon flinch.

Jon rolled his eyes, looking back at you. "What’s her name?"

Robb chuckled. "Ha! She will squash you like a bug."

Jon clenched his jaw tightly. "Her name."