vows.

| Winterfell |

Leonora had been called to the throne room within the hour.

It was a large, dark space, and the dampness in the air left a musky smell. Scattered candles covered the sills and tables, layers of melted wax coating the edge of a large table. Three chairs sat behind it, each seating a Stark family member, while the Master-at-Arms and Maester both stood to one side. Catelyn sat on the left, Robb was on the right, and Lord Eddard Stark in the middle. A mournful expression resided on the boy's face and as the Warden of the North stood, Leonora noticed the familiar parchment paper in his hands. Leonora regretted leaving it unread.

Jaime and Tyrion both entered the room, the King, Cersei and their guards in front of them. She was surrounded.

Nervously, the Lady curtseyed.

"Lord Stark," she greeted, eyes glued to the parchment.

"Lady Leonora," he responded, though his tone lacked affection. "You have been summons'd here regarding a scroll that came into my possession shortly after your arrival in Winterfell. Is it not the scroll that you delivered to me?"

The Lady took a cautious step forward.

"If I may?" She asked, holding out her hand to examine the scroll. The Lord handed it to her, and she accepted it. The wax seal was broken, the familiar sigil of house Lannister split in two, and Leonora could see the familiar handwriting of her father. "This is the letter I gave to you. It is from my father. I saw him write it myself."

"And I ask again," Eddard said, green eyes boring into her own. Voice growing quieter, he asked lowly "do you know of its contents?"

A chill ran down Leonora's spine, fear tingling about her fingers. An itch began to work its way across her body, adrenaline begging her body to move.

"I do not."

Lord Stark nodded, looking to his son. They shared a look, and Leonora felt her skin begin to crawl. What was more unnerving was Lady Stark's own expression, back straight and eyes stern. An intense fury seemed to bubble beneath her skin, and this quiet anger - resigned and poised - was more intimidating than some of the finest guards that stalked Casterly Rock.

Turning back to face her, the Lord had a look of pity flash across his face before looking beyond and into the small gathering of people behind her.

"Could you please read the scroll aloud?" The Lord asked, though it was more of an order than a request. The noblewoman cleared her throat.

"To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," She began. "It is from Casterly Rock, that I write to you. Upon arrangement for your eldest son, Robb, and my youngest daughter Leonora, to be betrothed-"

Leonora's breath caught in her throat, and her brows furrowed.

"I have sent this message, as well as my daughter, so that she can be wed and our great houses will be joined in matrimony. Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Shield of Lannisport." She finished, the words sour on her tongue.

The room was so silent that Leonora could hear her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Shock and confusion were the first things to flow through her, followed by anger. Steeling her gaze, Leonora finally looked towards the Starks, putting on a proud facade.

Ned stood, addressing the room.

"Tonight, we shall celebrate not only the King and his visit, but my son's engagement to our new Southern Lady, Leonora Lannister."

The room cheered, though Leonora felt a sense grief overcome her. Turning her head to the side, she met the troubled gazes of her siblings - including a furious Jaime. A duteous smile had broken out across her lips, though it felt more unstable than the cliffs alongside the castle her home, a violent wave moments away from breaking it down.

❅ ❅ ❅

The bustle of the feast could be heard from all over the city. Clashing cutlery, laughter and talk. It all merged into one, loud noise, and the festivities made Leonora feel warmer than the endless goblets of wine she had drank. Tyrion joked at an obnoxious volume, the pair of them hopelessly drunk. She giggled uncontrollably, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as Tyrion hushed her, barely controlling his own laughter. Cersei looked at her siblings from across the hall, completely detached.

Leonora tried to scoop mouthful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, missing entirely. Hands unsteady, she tried again, this time hitting the spoon on her chin. This sent her into another burst of muffled laughter, and Tyrion followed suit.

Robb, who sat away from the two siblings, also struggled to hold in his laughter. The girl was so drunk that she paid no attention to the watchful eyes within the hall. It was strange, to see any Lady, let alone a Lannister so carefree and happy, and not in their typically pretentious fashion. Eyes wandering over to the disapproving scowl of his mother, Robb cleared his throat and looked at his plate. Theon nudged the Lord with a glint in his eye, and gestured to Arya as she flicked a ball of food at Sansa's face.

As Leonora's laughter went on, she sobered up at the sight of the King kissing a whore. Taking another swig of his wine, he cackled and the woman sat on his lap. The King was disgusting, and openly unfaithful. Frowning, Leonora turned to Cersei, heart aching for the pain and humiliation it must cause her sister. Fearing that a similar fate would be in store for herself when she acquired a husband, her face grew warmer. No amount of wine could drown that fear, and her lungs, filled with sorrow, began to choke her.

Standing, Leonora excused herself. Nausea swirled between her temples, body swaying as she made her way outside of the hall. An acidic taste exploded across her tongue, chest heaving as the contents of her stomach landed on the cobblestone. The Lady held her own hair back, hot tears trailing down her cheeks while the icy Northern wind cooled them. Soft sobs crawled out of her mouth, the air bringing life to them and carrying their pain.

Leonora did not know how she could go through with this marriage. In some ways, it felt like more of a funeral than a marriage, and she knew that as soon as the words left her lips and her matrimony was sealed that she would truly die.

She came to Winterfell for the sake of her family, and in some twisted irony, by trying to protect them, she would never be with them again. Tywin condemned her to a lifetime in the cold, unforgiving North, far apart from the people she loved most in the world. No more games with Tyrion, sparring with Jaime or strolls with Cersei. They would be a thousand leagues away, and Leonora realised it was not the marriage that scared her, nor the northerners. It was how truly and utterly alone she would be.

It filled her with a burning hatred. Tywin may be rid of her, but Leonora vowed to make him regret it.

That man may have brought her life, but her was not her father.

The sound of a throat clearing startled her. Turning, she faced the darkness where the Stark bastard stood, wearing a leather sparring vest.

"Apologies," she said with a smile, voice breaking. Internally, she grimaced at her failed attempt at composure. "this behaviour is highly inappropriate of me."

The bastard frowned.

"The getting drunk part? Or the stumbling alone in the dark?"

Leonora chuckled.

"I suppose both." She said, walking towards the bastard and leaning on a wooden column. It was then that she noticed the slashed dummy behind him, wool spilling out of cuts in the fabric. Someone had hacked at it, the head barely attached and a black cross on its chest barely recognisable.

"I take it you haven't had a pleasant night either," she mumbled. "what's your name, Snow?"

"Jon." He replied, stowing his sword away. "And you're Leonora Lannister?"

"For the time being." She said bitterly. Jon's face contorted in confusion, and Leonora hesitated before responding. "I take it you were not at the gathering. I don't recall seeing you there."

Jon shook his head.

Leonora looked to the ground before swallowing harshly. Lifting her gaze, she wore an expertly crafted smile and straighten her posture.

"I will be wed to your half-brother, Robb, before long. Our fathers have decided to strengthen our houses in marriage."

Raising a skeptical brow, Jon's first instinct was not to trust the blonde-haired woman. Lannisters were liars, that much he knew. Though he also knew that pride outweighed all other virtues, and there must have been a reason for the young Lady to sacrifice her pride earlier in stumbling out of the hall. Frustrated with such mind games, he eyed the broken training dummy, longing to attack it with his sword again.

"Robb would be good to you." He said gruffly.

"A loving marriage would be good to me." Leonora retorted before she could stop herself, hastily wiping away a stray tear.

"Few marriages are loving. At the very least, you'll be married to a kind man."

Leonora wore a sad smile. The boy was pretty, with his dark curls and fine features. He didn't seem proud, and many bastards were not, but she could see a sadness in his eyes that mirrored her own. It made her angry that a complete stranger, the bastard of a rival house, treated her better than most. He had treated her with more decency that her own father, despite his status and how the kingdom regarded men like him. Boys and girls, born out of wedlock. Shamed for the sins of their parents.

Leonora still felt that shame at times.

"You're a kind man," she said.

"Would you rather wed a bastard instead?" He offered. Leonora's smile grew. While he held no intention of making her laugh, there was a certain bluntness in his demeanour that was refreshing.

"So long as you'd take a bastard wife." Leonora retorted.

A beat passed, Jon's eyes fixed to the ground. He mulled it over for a moment, before raising his daze and scoffed.

"You've been legitimised."

"Does that really make a difference?"

Jon's face grew grim, gritting his teeth. He picked up his sword again, swinging it at the dummy. It was a forceful blow, though Leonora noticed the clumsiness of his footwork, as well as the frustration in his brow. It was clear that he did not take kindly to her words, and that he was offended by her comments.

"I'm leaving to take the black in the morning."

Leonora's smile fell. Young men did not return from the Wall. They died slow and painful deaths, alone in the cold. They were abandoned. The thought of Jon, of anyone, leaving Winterfell for the band of criminals that made up the Night's Watch caused a sinking feeling in her stomach. What a life that would be wasted for him. A wife and children, honours and glory, but instead he was willingly depriving himself of happiness, or at the very least, a life worth living.

"And go celibate? You must not have lied with a woman before." She said lightheartedly, trying to will those thoughts away.

Jon didn't respond, instead hitting the dummy for a final time, taking its head clean off.

"I suppose you've finished with 'appropriate behaviour'?"

"A Lady talking to a bastard, in the dead of night, unaccompanied, is not appropriate behaviour. That endeavour was lost long ago." She replied, disappointed at Jon's unwillingness to indulge her humour. He looked uncomfortable, and that only made a smirk grow at her lips. It did not take a fool to realise that her joke held truer meaning than intended.

Jon was about to respond when Tyrion walked out of the hall and towards the pair, drawing her back into the reality of her situation. Smiling glumly, Leonora stood.

"I'm sorry to leave you both, given that I don't have much time left with either of you, but I must retire to my chambers." She said, walking away. Tyrion frowned, looking to the ground with guilt.

He had failed his sister. He failed to save her from the usual fate of the women of Westeros, and when he turned to the Stark bastard he felt as if he had interrupted something important, casting his eyes to Leonora's retreating figure once more.

Author's Note

First of all, I'd love to thank you all for reading this story so far. Your support truly means the world to me. I cannot express how proud I am of this story, and the excitement I feel when writing future chapters.

Second of all, I'd like to let you all know that, despite how it seems, this is not a Robb love story and that is only how it seems at this point. This story will develop, but I know that I personally hate overused plots and would be annoyed after reading this, as it seems I'm following that typical story format. I promise you, I'm not.

Thanks for reading guys, I won't make a habit of putting these notes in.