CHAPTER ONE
word count: 1930

                    Taryn Baratheon was four when blood first touched her innocent hands. Her skin was no longer pure, neither was her heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, Taryn learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.

The creatures always circled King's Landing as vultures searched for the dead. "The little birds are always looking for trouble," Cersei Lannister warned as they walked through the gardens. Taryn nestled close in her mother's arms. "Watch your step or they'll be waiting in your shadows all your life."

When she was set down, her feet steady on the ground, Taryn raced on ahead. Her long skirts clung to her little legs, blonde curls bouncing behind her. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — Taryn skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flower heads and ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. She wished it could only be her and mother in the gardens forever. Taryn slipped out of her mother's line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into her mouth, licking sweet juice from her fingers to keep her dainty snack a secret.

The Princess came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in her haste, when she found her path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. Taryn took the bird in her hands, scarlet smeared across her fingers. She did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.

Taryn brought the bird against her chest, cupped with both of her delicate hands, and ran back across the path she had come down. The princess took the bird to her mother, who was quick to scold her child for touching a dying animal. "But can't the maesters help?" Taryn's eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Taryn's mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King's Landing.)

Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter's naivety. "The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird." They always look for trouble.

Taryn huffed. She did not believe her mother's response to be an acceptable excuse. "Why?"

The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird's frail body from Taryn's hands, which became a struggle with the little girl's reluctance. "We're all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion."

"But it will die!"

"All things do, eventually." Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind them. "Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here."

Taryn walked with heavy steps back to the Red Keep. She muttered about the unfairness of the bird's fate — it was a baby, why could it not be saved? If all things die, why is life not more precious? Any day could be the last.

"Where are you scurrying away to, little doe?" Taryn's father's voice was a formidable boom when he caught her in the corridors, flanked by handmaidens, wandering towards her rooms.

Taryn showed her father the specs of blood across her dress. "Mother says I have to clean up."

Robert Baratheon laughed. He shooed away Taryn's company and picked his daughter up with one strong arm. "A little blood never hurts anyone. You're a Baratheon, my stormbird. You'll get used to blood in no time"

The King took his daughter to the throne room. Taryn liked it here: the tall ceiling, the ivy-strewn pillars, the warm glow of sunlight, and the Iron Throne. Robert took his seat and rested Taryn on his knee. The princess stared around the room, she had never seen it from this angle before. Between the tower of swords from the first Dragon King, still sharp enough to tear her in half, it felt powerful to sit here. Taryn could imagine hundreds of people knelt before them and understood why men spent their lives chasing power. She felt like a true Princess.)

"This would have been your's one day if your mother had not had that damn brother of yours."

Her father's voice was rough with bitterness. His words pulled Taryn out of her daydream. Only a year younger than her, Taryn's brother, Joffrey, was a terror. Their mother doted on her children equally, but Taryn knew their father had his favourite. Taryn was secretly happy with it — the less time she spent with Joffrey pulling heads off flowers and worse, vicious things, the better.

"One day," Taryn's King father continued, "you will marry a great lord, a good lord. But you should always have a place here, my daughter."

***

Taryn walked with heavy steps. Her gaze flickered sideways to the Silent Sisters who stalked around the body of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. The former Hand of the King. A cold shiver tensed Taryn's body as she walked. The air had felt heavy since Lord Arryn passed. Mere days ago, Taryn and Lord Arryn had talked, as they often had. It was no life-changing conversation, they spoke of the weather and how Taryn felt about turning six-and-ten and reaching marriageable age, and what were the last books she read. But it was the last time they spoke before the Hand took ill, wracked by a horrid fever — Taryn's mother had the maesters flurry around the Princess for two days to make sure she had not been infected. All things die eventually.

Taryn's path led her to her mother and uncle — the golden, twin lions — who were watching the Silent Sisters and Jon Arryn, watching like vultures after their prey. Jaime Lannister's head raised as his niece approached, his smile to her made brighter by the gleam of his Kingsguard uniform.

"How was the Small Council meeting?" Jaime asked, one hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Dull as usual," Taryn admitted. She attended most meetings of the Small Council as her father's cupbearer, even though Robert Baratheon seldom attended the meetings and Taryn spent more time listening into the Council's discussions about the state of the realm than she did offering refreshments. It was her grandfather, Tywin's suggestion to her father that Taryn attend the meetings. She was just a girl, but she was a Princess too. She could not influence what was being said, but she could learn. "They were predicting who is going to be the next Hand of the King."

Cersei turned from the funeral preparations to look at her daughter. "Who do you think should be Hand?"

"I don't think my opinion matters. Father told me he is going to ask Lord Stark."

Her mother chuckled. "A Stark this far south for that long? Northerners never fare well here."

Taryn caught Jaime looking at the centre of the throne room. "Eddard Stark is an honourable man, from what I've heard," she said. "He might do a good job."

"Did your father mention who is following him when he travels to meet with Ned Stark?"

Taryn gave a short laugh. "All of us."

***

The streets of King's Landing were bustling with smallfolk. With her blonde hair braided back and a thin cloak over her sky-coloured dress, Taryn ran like a river down the cobbled pathways. Accompanied only by two of her ladies in waiting, Taryn made frequent quiet visits into the capital city. She saw no reason to hold herself higher than the smallfolk, they were all the same and they had far more need for gold than she did.

Taryn brought herself to one of the orphanages in the city. The matron on the door graciously bade the princess enter. There were too many homes for children in King's Landing — children who had lost their families to sickness, drowning, starvation, or terrible accidents. In the few official visits her family took through the city, Taryn saw too many people left to fend for themselves. It was the least she could to try and help the children into good positions. They deserved good lives, these children were the future. (So was Taryn.) She was a ray of light, a hope for the future. A sign that the smallfolk were not forgotten by all the lords and ladies in the land. Taryn's heart did not crave power and a throne, despite the world she was raised in, instead she laid it with the people. Those trodden into the dirt by people like Taryn — she liked being the exception, though she wished it could stand for more.

With her pockets of gold and her mind sharp, Taryn helped the people. Donated to help keep the houses running, to keep children safe, and she taught them to read and helped them draw, and showed them that someone cared for them. But this visit was filled with less joy than usual. If Taryn and her family were to travel North to the seat of House Stark and the Warden of the North, she did not know if or when she would return home from Winterfell. (She tried to fight the thoughts of leaving people behind, she knew this journey would be good for her.) Taryn already had help lined up to continue her efforts in the city. It would take weeks to travel to Winterfell, she would be gone for months at least. And she would miss the children — the bright-eyed skinny figures who held her hands and reminded Taryn of her youngest siblings, Myrcella and Tommen.

The children were far less than thrilled when she explained her journey to them. Worse, so many of them wanted to join her, to flee the city and take refuge in the cold north — Taryn had to tell them they could not come with her.

A brunette girl stuck out her bottom lip. "Why would you go when it is pretty and summer here?"

Taryn scooped the girl onto her lap. "I haven't much choice, I'm afraid. I'm supposed to marry the future Lord of Winterfell." (It was all that encouraged her to go — she had met Robb Stark when they were younger than most of the children here. Taryn had not seen him in years now, but he was a kind boy and she missed him.)

"But the North is scary!" one child whispered to his friends when Taryn objected to them coming with her. "It's all big and cold. Man-wolves live there."

"Why can't he move south and live here?"

"All their ghosts freeze in the snow and come back as dead ice creatures!"

Children shrieked with fright and intrigue. "Don't leave, Princess Taryn!"

Taryn giggled. "I have visited the North, it is not so bad. It is terribly cold, but there is wonder in it. I promise, no winter monsters will harm any of us. Winter is scary, but it does not last forever. We do not even know if it will arrive soon."

"But the Long Night lasted a generation!" another boy cried.

"Oh, but that is an old story. Who has been telling you such tales?" Taryn scooped shivering children into her arms, their worries fading from their faces. "None of you have anything to fear."

A/N.

first chapter at last!! who would have thought? hope you liked 🤍

all the chapters are super short so far, but chapter two is coming tomorrow :)