You knew he was there. You could feel him, his presence like a cold, harsh hand wrapped around your throat suffocating you. You tried to ignore his presence though, knowing that the second you made eye contact it was over. He’d eat you alive and spit you out, leaving you ruined forever.

Brandon Stark scared you. It wasn’t any one thing in particular that scared you, it was just him. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the dark aura that surrounded him on a daily basis. Why he has his sights set on you? you weren’t sure. You’re not the typical girl he would usually go for, You were unlike the northern women. You weren't brave or a warrior, able to laugh with men.

You were the daughter of a Southern King, the only daughter of Durrans Godsgrief Baratheon, who was married to Brandon Stark since he built a grand castle for your father. You were innocent and painstakingly lovely. A noble gentle southern princess.

You clasp your hands together tighter, the position on your knees becoming more uncomfortable the closer he gets to you. You were praying in the Godswood of Winterfell like the pious women you were.

“i like you in this position, on your knees and vulnerable.”