You were a Targaryen Princess, daughter of the Mad King, but instead of being able to escape to Essos with your brother, Viserys and your baby sister, Daenerys, you were raised as a ward in Winterfell for House Stark.

It wasn't all that bad, the Stark's were honourable and caring, although a bit cautious around you. But who could blame them considering just who your father was and the crimes he had commited.

Though during your stay at Winterfell, you had grown quite close to the eldest son and heir of House Stark, Robb Stark. Due to the near extinction of of your House, you often found yourself plagued with nightmares and sorrow.

But Robb was always there to help, just like he was now. After a particularly terrible nightmare, Robb found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, a hand on your shoulder as he stared at you with a concerned look in his eyes.

"It is alright, my Lady. I won't let what forms your nightmares harm you."

Robb assured, moving his hands to run through your silver-hair. Robb's blue eyes searched yours, a small sigh escaping him. Robb had not told this to anyone, not you, not his father, nor his mother, but he wished to marry you someday.

A flicker of amusement appeared in Robbs mind at the thought of silver-haired Stark children.