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peachhcs · 3 days ago

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did we ever get samy and wills first i love you’s? also i feel like a fic about a bunch of their firsts would be cool.

omg no i've actually never officially published that fic. it's been in my drafts for who knows how long and i always meant to make it a fic, so here it is! slightly edited from when i wrote it like a year ago. takes place after will's first world juniors during their freshman year of college

au masterlist

after a successful world juniors, samy flew to boston to see will in her last week of winter break before the chaos of school started again. it was a jumbled joint christmas, new year's, wjc celebration, and samy's birthday celebration all wrapped into one since her birthday was at the end of the week.

they were taking things fairly slow considering how crazy the last two weeks were. it was nice just getting to lounge around the house without too much responsibility. will was using this time off and seeing his girl to his full advantage because he would not leave her side at all. they were connected at the hip whether it be running errands, watching tv on the couch, even using the bathroom. samy found it endearing though and she loved it just as much.

it was the day before her 19th birthday and considering will mentioned something about going all out tomorrow for her, the couple was having an easy, relaxing day inside away from the cold boston air.

samy was tucked away into will's side still in bed. they agreed that if they weren't going to leave the house, then what was the point of leaving the bed? it was way warmer and cozier than any other spot in the house. not to mention, being back in will's childhood bedroom brought back a lot of many memories.

"maybe this is weird to say but sometimes when we were kids..like 8 or 9..i used to picture myself years in the future in this exact spot wondering what would happen if we were like boyfriend-girlfriend,” the brunette broke the silence of the room. will’s hand that had been delicately dragging across her skin stopped for a moment as he peered over at her.

“really?” he seemed surprised at that.

“like..kind of. i dunno. i know we didn’t really understand relationships yet but it was the first thought in my mind and you were the only guy i really knew,” samy shrugged.

“are you happy your premonition came true?” the blonde chuckled, resuming his touch.

“i am actually. i think maybe i did always know. i don’t know. or at least i thought about it happening,” she grinned up at him and will thought that smile was the best thing he’d ever seen.

it was always so full of light and nothing could make him happier then seeing that bright smile which would’ve sounded like such a crazy sentence a year ago.

“you know i thought about it, too. sometimes. i wondered who i’d date but i dunno, i guess i never put a lot of thought into it. your brothers used to tease me,” will rolled his eyes at the memory.

“oh, of course they did,” the soccer player giggled.

“they always used to poke me about me having a crush on you as a kid. i always denied it and said no way, but i did think about it and did wonder what if i did end up dating you.”

“are you happy it turned out this way?” samy asked will’s question back to him.

“i’m really happy it turned out this way. i couldn’t picture anything differently honestly,” the hockey player craned his neck to plant a gentle kiss to her forehead. she flushed and buried her face further into the crook of his neck.

“for some annoying, kind of arrogant hockey player, you sure know how to get sappy.”

“arrogant?” will pretended to act offended.

“sometimes,” samy giggled again.

“i’d like to think i’ve grown out of my arrogant phase,” the blonde frowned.

“you definitely have. just sometimes. you were real bad when we were 14-15.”

“i will never be 15 again. that was the worst year,” will shook his head. all of those years were bad which always seemed to new running theme in the teenage years.

“last year as a teenager though,” samy reminded him and the closer her birthday got, the more jittery she became about how her last year as a teen would go.

she wouldn’t say being a teenager was always super fun, but she’d miss the carelessness that came with it.

“are you excited?” will wondered and the girl shrugged.

“kind of? nervous? excited? both?” she laughed.

“it feels so weird getting older. i wish we could go back to being kids. i miss those days,” a solemn feeling fell over the couple as they silently reminisced on the days they ran through the house chasing after one another and getting mad when someone was being too mean.

“say we go back in time and you know everything that’s going to happen in the future. would you do anything different?” samy wondered. she loved asking those random, thought provoking questions.

“no, i wouldn’t,” will answered almost immediately without missing a beat.

“really?” his response shocked the girl. “you wouldn’t like..i dunno maybe try and swoop in faster if you knew what our future was?” she giggled again.

“i mean..yes and no. yes i do wish i realized faster, but also i think if we got together too soon it wouldn’t be exactly the same, you know? we got close on our own and it wasn’t ever forced and i think that’s the beauty of it. if we did know and we did force, i don’t think our relationship would be as organic as it is,” will hummed and samy was shocked once again at how insightful and wise her boyfriend sounded.

“okay, since when did you turn into a philosopher,” she joked.

“you get what i mean though?” will pushed himself up some more as he thought a bit deeper about samy’s question and the reasoning to his answer.

“no, i get it. i don’t think i’d do anything differently either. i think the slow burn is what made it feel that more special and worth it in the end,” she nodded, admiring the boy’s features. he ducked his head down so she could drag her fingers across his scalp through his curls.

“this is gonna sound really cheesy but i would wait for you in every life time,” his words earned a bright blush all across the younger hughes’ cheeks.

“i think you need to get back on the ice because this time off has been made you way too sappy,” samy pinched will’s cheeks.

“i think it’s just because i’m finally around someone i love,” will kissed her cheek and it took another second for his words to settle in.

the girl pulled back, “wait. what did you say?”

the blonde grew confused, “what?”

“you said..you said you love me?”

will finally remembered his words and now it was his turn for a bright blush to spread across his face. his cheeks burned in embarrassment because he didn’t even realize he said it. it just came out of his mouth without much other thought other than how true and how much he meant it.

so he recollected himself and nodded a bit more confidently this time, “yeah, i do love you. i’ve always loved you.”

samy melted into his arms, “i love you too.”

the two were now smiling from ear to ear, their relationship now taking on a whole new meaning.

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mischievouslittlecreature · 2 days ago

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Shark! This comment absolutely made my day! Thank you so, so much! I'm beyond thrilled that you liked this first chapter! 🖤

I'm so glad you liked the descriptors! I had to trim a couple of them down because they got a little out of hand at some points. 🤭 The woods, and particularly this spot by the lake, are her safe space. It's where she retreats any time that she needs to be alone or needs a break from her family.

The crossbow absolutely was picked because of her being a deadshot in the other fic! I wanted something that was more aim-focused as her weapon of choice, rather than a close-quarters weapon like a sword.

I'm really enjoying getting to play a bit more with her various family members. They don't have a particularly large role in the Love Me series, so getting to use them more here was really fun!

I am so, so glad that you felt that way about Victor! He's an absolute monster here, and I'm really glad that him putting the cloak around her came across as creepily as I imagined it.

Oh, love, I can't tell you how happy I am that you liked how I depicted Amos here! I'm still getting my bearings with him, and I was a little scared of messing him up here. 🫣 Thank you so much for all the insight you've given me into him and his relationship with Lucy so that I can portray it properly. I very much felt like his presence is felt throughout the entire Bolton family, even when he's not physically there. And of course her shock over him being genuinely smitten with Hev was also a huge part of what I wanted to convey here!

Syndor dive bombing Lucy was one of my fav parts to write! 😂 He immediately saw her and went "OMG FUTURE MOM!" And I'm so glad that you liked my descriptions of the Targs! I felt like Polly would be the most regal queen dowager/regent to ever live. 🤭

And ahhhhh I'm so, so happy that the first glance between her and Tommy paid off! It was very much love at first sight even if they'll be in denial over it for some time. And absolutely, yes! Feel free to use anything in here for Damaged! 🖤

I'm gonna try my hardest to make this at least somewhat of a slow burn, but it'll depend if these two can cooperate and keep their hands off each other long enough for me to achieve that. 😂

Eep! Yeah, Lucy may not be as resentful towards Genevieve as Teddy is regarding her allowing Victor to abuse them, but she still has moments of bitterness that leak through. And she can get frustrated with her mother especially when it comes to her being so naïve about love.

Thank you again so, so much for this wonderful comment, Shark! 🥰

Part 1: Hidden Devotions

Summary: The impending arrival of guests in the Dreadfort has everyone in the castle on edge.

Word Count: 5,187

Warnings: A few slight allusions to abuse.

Notes: Heavenerys and Amos belong to @call-sign-shark.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Drawn to the Flame

The snow crunched under her boots, wet, thick flakes fluttering down from the sky to join the fine dusting already on the ground. Trees, naked of leaves, stretched their skeletal, twisting branches towards a sky that was almost entirely white with clouds.

Lucilla Bolton shifted her weight from one foot to another, eyes cast out to across the half frozen lake she crouched on the embankment of. Her crossbow, a weighty, ornate weapon carved with intricate, swirling designs and the sigil of her house, rested heavily in her hands.

Across the lake, a little red fox hopped out from the thick brush and trees that surrounded the lake on every side. It’s nose pointed to the ground, scrounging for food. Lucy watched it, the fox’s fur as red as her hair where it was coiled into a braid tossed over one shoulder.

A sound must have alerted the fox, its ears pricking up before it went darting back into a nearby bush.

A cold nose nudged at Lucy’s elbow. Glancing over, she managed a weak smile to the large, black wolfdog currently nuzzling at her, his fluffy tail wagging from side to side when she raised her hand to stroke the top of his huge head.

“I know,” she murmured, scratching him behind the ears. “Good boy, Shadow.”

His tail wagging increased.

With a sigh, Lucy cast one last look across the lake. It would be a while, she expected, until she would have time enough to slip away and be on her own like this again. Not with all the non-stop celebrations that were about to occur over the next few days.

Tipping her head back, she battled to find the glimmer of the sun through the thick covering of clouds. She ought to be getting back. Her father would have a fit if she was late.

“Come along, children,” she said to Shadow and the other two wolfdogs playing nearby. They fell into step beside her dutifully when she rose, walking to where her horse was tied to a nearby tree.

“No,” she pushed Lila’s head away from where she was sniffing at one of the rabbits Lucy had caught where they were dangling from the saddle. “You’ve already had one.”

Lila dipped her head obediently, white coat puffed up against the cold. Lucy gave a fond little ruffle to her head, and went to untie the rope securing the horse to the tree.

Unloading her crossbow and strapping it to her back, she then pulled herself up onto the back of the chestnut mare. Sin snorted once, sides flexing against Lucy’s legs, and set off at a steady canter through the woods, the wolfdogs flanking them on either side.

She weaved through the trees until they came to the bank of the Weeping Water. On the opposite side of the river, a few men were ice fishing in the freezing depths.

She followed along the bank until the Dreadfort came into view. A huge, strong fortress, her home was comprised of thick, grey stone walls. Massive towers reached for the sky. Triangular merlons pointed upwards like sharp teeth.

Exiting the woods, Lucy pushed Sin into a fierce gallop across the massive field that sprawled between the trees and the castle. Her dogs raced alongside the horse, tongues lolling excitedly from their mouths. Freezing wind whipped at her face and hair, turning her cheeks pink from the chill.

She rode through the gates and into the courtyard, drawing Sin to a stop. There was a significant amount of bustle going on in the yard. Servants, stable boys, and armored guards running around to hastily complete the final preparations that needed to take place before their guests arrived.

“Did you have a good ride, my lady?” the stable master asked. She dismounted with a fluid motion and passed him the reins.

“Yes, thank you.” She gestured to her catch still dangling from the saddle. “Make sure that those rabbits are sent to the kitchens, will you?”

“Of course.”

“And let my handmaids know that I’m back and would like a bath prepared for when I come upstairs.”

“Right away, my lady.”

She handed off her crossbow to an armorer, clicking her tongue to have her dogs converging in close to her.

“Do you want the dogs taken into the kennels, Lady Lucilla?” the kennel master asked when she passed him by where he was trying to wrangle Amos’s hounds into the various kennels located around the yard.

“No, I’ll just keep them in my room during the festivities, thank you.” Her dogs and Amos’s hounds didn’t always get along. And the wolfdogs had a proclivity for howling when they decided that they wanted attention or weren’t pleased with their lodgings.

She pulled her black leather gloves from her hands, keeping them clutched in one hand as she walked through the entrance leading into the castle.

“Where have you been?”

She sighed heavily at the all too familiar voice.

“The woods,” she replied simply, continuing her walk towards the staircase.

“And you’re only just getting back now?” Elyas stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop with a huff of annoyance.

He was tall. Likely to be the tallest of all her brothers–despite being the second youngest–when he was done growing. Lucy already had to crane her head up to look at him. They shared the red hair inherited from their Tully mother, but where Lucy’s eyes were a dark, gentle brown, Elyas’s were as cold as the snow outside. Just like their father’s.

“I wanted to take the dogs out before they have to be cooped up for the rest of the day.” She picked at the sleeve of her riding jacket. “I already finished all the duties Mum and Aunt Lorelei gave me this morning. I just have to bathe and get changed.”

Elyas scowled, likely having hoped that he’d caught her skirting her responsibilities so he could get her into trouble. “Amos will kill you if you’re not ready when they arrive.”

“I have plenty of time.” She side-stepped him. “But I’ll have less if you keep chattering to me. Go find William wherever he is pulling the legs off insects or torturing mice if you need someone to go bother.”

He didn’t follow her up the rest of the stairs, thankfully. Annoying brat. Only four and ten, and yet he already thought that he had the authority to boss her around.

When she opened the door to her chambers, it was to find her handmaids already present, finishing preparing the bath she had ordered, and a fire already crackling in the hearth. The dogs went to sprawl out on the fur rugs in front of it.

“Thank you,” Lucy told Beatrice after she’d taken her riding jacket from her.

“Is it snowing terribly outside, my lady?” Jill asked, finishing with the bath and approaching them.

“A little. But they say it’s supposed to clear before our guests arrive.” She sat down to unlace her shoes, waving Beatrice and Jill away when they moved to help. “I can manage the rest. Go find my mother and tell her I’ll be ready to get dressed in ten minutes or so.”

The girls nodded, and quickly departed.

Lucy finished disrobing, tossing her riding clothes haphazardly over the back of a chair by the fire, and sinking into the steaming bathwater. A soft sigh of relief left her lips at the warmth enveloping her, head tipping back against the rim.

She’d always maintained that she was not built for such cold climates. Even when wrapped up in layers of the finest, warmest fabrics, she often caught herself getting chilled.

Her eyes cast lazily around her chambers. They were lit dimly, like most rooms within the Dreadfort. Very little natural sunlight came in through the rectangular windows, the majority of illumination in the room sourced from the hearth in which she almost always kept a fire burning.

Turning her face away from the room, Lucy gathered up a handful of water from the bathtub, splashing it onto her face. Her fingers closed around the slab of soap, scented and perfumed with her preferred scents rose and vanilla. She scrubbed at her skin urgently, until it turned pink, taking care to wash away the lingering scent of horses, dogs, and forest.

She just stepped from the bath and pulled on her dressing gown when her mother came sweeping into the room with Beatrice and Jill in tow.

Genevieve Tully was short, though not as short as Lucy, with auburn hair that fell in loose curls down to her waist. And while she and Lucy looked alike, sharing the same red hair and brown eyes, her mother’s face was rounder and softer. Lucy had often thought that her mother looked an awful lot like a doll.

A sad, haunted doll.

There was a large bundle of dark fabric clutched in her hands. Lucy watched her lay it out onto the bed. Her mother had been working on the various dresses they were to wear during all the festivities for months.

“How are the preparations coming along?” she asked, taking note of her mother’s frazzled expression, the skin around her lips tight with tension. Beatrice and Jill started helping her into her underlayers.

“Well enough. You know how these things always go. They’re just putting the finishing touches on the great hall now. Lorelei is a nervous mess. She wants everything to be perfect.”

Lucy hummed in acknowledgement, her maids helping her into the dress. Her mother stood back, hands ringing nervously, eyes assessing the lay of the fabric, looking for any flaws.

“I can do the rest. You two go along and help downstairs,” she ordered Beatrice and Jill. Soon as they were gone, she took an apprehensive step towards Lucy, peering at her from over her shoulder in the mirror they were standing in front of, reaching out to adjust the dress’s neckline.

“You look lovely.”

Lucy cocked her head, examining herself in the mirror. The dress was of heavy black material, with glittering black beads embroidered into elegant swirls that bordered the neckline and cuffs. Her fingers trailed along the strip of pale skin that was revealed by the plunging neckline.

“Father won’t like how low cut it is.”

Her mother sighed, reaching back to start styling Lucy’s hair for her. “Bugger what he thinks. You’re meeting royalty today. You should look your best.”

“You’re sure it isn’t too tight in the waist?”

“It’s not. You have a beautiful figure. It would be a shame not to show it off.”

Lucy squinted at the face full of dense freckles that stared back at her in the mirror. “I doubt that our guests will be paying much attention to me.” Her father was the younger brother of the late Lord Bolton and Amos’s father. Set to inherit nothing. Their branch of the family was ultimately inconsequential. Especially in the eyes of the ruling house of Westeros.

Her mother shot her a look over her shoulder. “You never know.”

“I’m still surprised that they decided to have the wedding here and not in King’s Landing.”

“Perhaps they wish to strengthen their ties with the north. Some of the houses up here often feel neglected by the crown.”

Lucy cocked her head. She supposed that also would explain why the future queen was planning to live primarily in the Dreadfort for the time being, rather than King’s Landing.

“Besides, they’re already having the coronation in the capitol.” Her mother finished pinning her hair up and was just reaching for the cloak Beatrice or Jill had deposited onto the bed, when the door opened. She froze.

“Victor.”

Lucy looked up sharply at the name falling from her mother’s lips. He was standing in the doorway, jaw set tightly. His eyes stared at them, cold and unwavering.

“Genevieve, will you give me a moment alone with Lucilla?”

Her mother hesitated, shooting Lucy a nervous look. Lucy slipped into the chair in front of her vanity, reaching for her cosmetics. She gave her a small nod.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, clearly still reluctant to leave her alone with him, but headed to the door. Beside the hearth, Shadow lifted his head from where it had been resting on top of his huge paws, eyes gleaming in the firelight, watching Lucy’s father suspiciously.

She raised an eyebrow at him. She was fairly certain she hadn’t done anything particular today to anger him. “What do you want?” she asked, looking at him through the mirror, setting about dabbing perfume behind her ears and to her wrists, then sliding her gold rings into place on her fingers.

He approached her slowly, each footstep meeting the floor with an audible thud, until he was standing right behind her.

“You are not to make any trouble today, do you understand?”

“Why would I make any trouble?” she asked, not looking at him, instead keeping her eyes lowered to the vanity.

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t love to see this house plunged back into irrelevance.”

She felt her jaw twitch. Standing, she went to pick up the black leather gloves her mother had left for her sitting on the bed, pulling them on.

“This is an order from Amos directly, Lucilla,” her father continued. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

It drove her mad, sometimes. How so much of the family acted as if Amos were a god. Yes, he had lifted House Bolton to a higher, more respectable position than they could ever have imagined. But the bodies and blood which had fueled that rise made her stomach churn. They were more respected than ever before, but only because they’d garnered a reputation for torture and cruelty.

One could not rule through fear alone. Love was just as important. There had to be balance between the two.

Lucy could not help but wonder how much longer they could continue on like this, before their constituents had enough.

And now Amos was about to be king.

The idea of what he could do with that kind of power, what kind of pain he could inflict, made her muscles seize with horror.

“If we can’t trust you to behave yourself, you can sit here in your room until the festivities are over,” her father decreed, those cold eyes still boring into her.

“The queen is going to be living here after the wedding,” she pointed out. “What are you going to do? Keep me locked up in my chambers forever?”

One of his hands shot out to grip her face, fingers squeezing at her cheeks. Forcing her to meet his eyes.

“If you ruin this for him…”

She shoved his hand away, jerking her face back. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Her membership to their house was the only thing that had so far protected her from the absolute worst punishments her family liked to dole out, but she knew that even that would not be enough to save her if she wrecked Amos’s wedding to the future queen of Westeros.

Her father stared down into her eyes, jaw working. He was a severe, rugged looking man, with ice cold eyes and a meticulously trimmed beard. His blonde hair was inherited from his mother, who had been of a house in the crownlands, but the rest of him was pure Bolton. His lips downturned at the corners in an eternal frown, brow creased forever in a look of deep disapproval. Lucy could not even recall a time when she had ever seen her father smile.

Turning away from her, he reached for the dark cloak laying on the bed, its collar made of soft, dark fur. He draped it over her shoulders in a way that, if done by anyone else, might have seemed gentle.

Hands still resting on her upper arms, he leaned into her shoulder, lips almost brushing against her ear. “Don’t embarrass me, Lucilla,” he whispered, the unspoken threat beneath his words obvious to them both.

He let her go without another word, and went to the door. Lucy shivered, tugging her cloak tighter around her. Shadow whined, getting up and coming over to nudge at her legs with his nose. Lucy gave him a few scratches behind the ear, then ventured to the window to peer outside. The snow had let up, the clouds beginning to break apart.

Pulling away from the window, she made for the door, closing it securely behind her. Weaving through the corridors, she ventured down a hall and pushed open a door leading outside to a balcony. Leaning against the cold stone edge, Lucy cast her gaze down onto the bustle of people putting the finishing touches on the courtyard below.

There was slight stirring of the wind, just enough to have the loose locks of crimson hair resting against Lucy’s cheeks fluttering. That was her only warning before the sky erupted with a huge, bellowing roar.

Her head whipped around, tilting upwards, eyes scanning the skies. Another roar answered the one which had just sounded. Then another. And another.

And then a massive, pitch black shadow burst from the clouds, swooping down towards the castle.

She felt her breath catch at the first sighting of a real, living dragon. Its scales were black as night, as were the horns and even the membranes of its two enormous wings. The only visible color on the creature were its two great, dark red eyes. Even in the daylight, they seemed to flicker and glow. Its horns were curved back towards its long neck, large spines sprouting like massive thorns from its back.

It dive-bombed the castle, seemingly headed straight for her, and for a moment she thought that it wasn’t going to pull up in time, but instead collide head-on with her and smash her flat beneath its massive body.

But at the last moment it veered away, exposing its belly to her, revealing that the scales there were as black as the ones covering its back. The dragon whooshed over the castle, coming close enough for her to feel the rush of air when it flapped its wings. She watched it glide over the courtyard, heading for the large field just outside the castle walls. On the dragon’s back, she could make out the blot of a figure garbed in dark colors seated in the saddle.

From the sky, more dragons began to descend. A massive one of pure white circled the castle twice before joining the black dragon in landing on the barren field. Another with black scales but with red scattered throughout its coloring followed right behind. Lucy watched, transfixed, as they each swooped over and around the castle, as if assessing it, before landing. Dragons of red, blue, green, and gold scales, varying in sizes, their roars to announce their presence each distinctive in their own right.

Lucy could not have pulled herself away from her position gawking down from the balcony even if the entire castle had been on fire. Wonderment flooded her veins at the beautiful creatures that, until that moment, she had only ever read about. Just barely, she could make out the little figures dismounting from their mounts’ backs.

She wondered if any of them would be kind enough to let her see the dragons up close.

The black one that had dived towards her turned its head, and she could have sworn those crimson eyes looked directly at her. She felt her heart leap into her throat, the reality of the situation they’d found themselves suddenly feeling an awful lot more real than it had that morning.

The Targaryens were here.

∗ ∗ ∗

They received the dragon lords in the courtyard. Standing in a line straight as an arrow, shoulder to shoulder, with their household gathered behind them. Lucy could feel nerves tightening in her throat, eyes glued to the gates.

When they swung open, they all fell to their knees, heads bowed respectfully before the royal family.

Flanked by knights wearing the snow white cloaks of the Kingsguard, the Targaryens led the procession that came streaming in. Practically half of court looked to be behind them, waiting to be let inside or setting up camp in the fields surrounding the Dreadfort. Many from the south had made the journey north to be present at the wedding of the princess.

Dowager Queen Pollyanna Targaryen was at the front, her chin tilted upwards, hair that was half brown, half platinum blonde swung around her face. She had ruled over Westeros as Queen Regent for many years following her first husband’s death, until her only child with the king was of age to wed and claim her title as queen. For her part, Pollyanna looked every bit as Lucy had imagined she would: regal and wise beyond her years. A true matriarch of the Targaryen family in every possible way.

She marched towards them, coming to a halt directly in front of Amos. With an almost indiscernible twitch of her gloved fingers, she indicated for them all to rise.

“Lord Bolton,” Pollyanna said once they were all back on their feet, gaze fixed upon him.

“Queen Pollyanna,” he dipped his head respectfully.

Pollyanna looked him up and down. Then reached a hand back, gesturing to one of her family who had followed her into the courtyard.

A small, unfathomably beautiful girl stepped forward. Her hair was the purest white, falling long and untethered down her back. Her eyes were wide and an unearthly, almost glowing blue, skin nearly as pale as her hair. She was young. Younger than Lucy, even, by at least a few years. She could only have been seven and ten at the most.

She looked like an angel. A creature of winter and frost and ice.

She would do well here, up in the north. Lucy could tell from just a glance.

“May I present Princess Heavenerys Targaryen,” Pollyanna announced, the pride in her voice regarding her daughter obvious.

Lucy watched Amos’s reaction to his future wife with interest, brow raising at the way his lips visibly parted, eyes widening at the sight of Heavenerys.

She could have almost said that he looked enamored–or at least as enamored as her cousin was capable of looking.

The rest of the royal family were still gathered behind Heavenerys and Pollyanna. There was Prince Mikael, Pollyanna’s child with her second husband who she wedded after the king’s death. And then there were the children of Pollyanna’s brother, the late Aerthurys I. Standing at the front was Prince Aerthurys II, with his bushy mustache and a deep, pained look in his eyes. There was Prince Jon, gaze fixed like a protective hawk onto Heavenerys, and beside him was Princess Aedarya, her long dark hair shifting through the breeze, glinting almost auburn in the right light. She had a hand resting on the youngest, Prince Fynlor’s, shoulder.

While none had hair as pale as Heavenerys, all had the same striking violet eyes that marked them indisputably as the blood of the dragon.

All but one.

Prince Thomaryon Targaryen stood beside Aerthurys. His hair, dark as night, made him a notable outlier next to his siblings, even more so when paired with his piercing, pale blue eyes.

His lack of the typical Targaryen features had stirred up whispers across the realm that he was a bastard. It was even said that there were some within court and the royal family who had suspicions regarding his legitimacy. But Thomaryon, notorious for his ambition as much as for his solemn and cold disposition, had made himself invaluable to the ruling of Westeros. He may have been the second oldest of his line, but it was indisputable that he was the most clever and suited to politics out of all his siblings. Mumblings of his giftedness in the art of ruling had even made it all the way up to the most northern houses in the realm.

Lucy’s gaze which had been sweeping across the royal family settled on him and refused to budge. There was a sudden tightening in her chest, her heartbeat kicking up a notch.

He was absolutely breathtaking. Sharp, chiseled features, with high cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. But the severity that his face could have held was somewhat softened by the fullness of his lips and the snub of his nose.

She stared at him, feeling as though something had just been stirred awake inside her. It had become suddenly far clearer to her why many of the ladies who traveled south practically waxed poetic about the beautiful, melancholic prince and his eyes that were the color of sapphires.

Those eyes shifted from where they had been fixed on Amos and Heavenerys to suddenly lock onto hers. Lucy met them for only a minuscule of a second, just long enough to see them widen a fraction, before she quickly looked down and away. Her cheeks warmed at having been caught staring.

“Let me introduce you to my family,” Amos’s voice pulled her attention away. He had given Heavenerys his arm, guiding her down the line of Boltons, introducing her first to his mother, Lorelei, and then his younger brother, Orion.

“And this is my Uncle Victor and Aunt Genevieve,” Amos gestured to Lucy’s parents, who both bowed respectfully to the future queen. Lucy and her brothers were standing in order of birth, meaning that as the oldest she was standing beside her mother.

“My cousin, Lucilla.” It was likely that no one else noticed the slight way in which Amos’s voice tightened with irritation at her name.

“Princess Heavenerys,” Lucy smiled as warmly as she could, ignoring the way her cousin’s black eyes stared at her in silent warning. She bowed her head to the princess. Heavenerys smiled shyly at her. She truly was a little thing, only taller than Lucy by perhaps a few inches. It was strange to not have to crane her head up to meet her gaze.

Amos tugged Heavenerys further down the line, likely eager to get her away from Lucy.

“And these are her brothers, Theodan, Patrek, Elyas, and William…”

His voice faded as Lucy lifted her head to find the piercing blue of Thomaryon’s eyes still staring at her, the expression on his face indecipherable.

Amos’s voice rose loud and clear across the courtyard, reiterating a welcome to the Targaryens, and inviting them into the castle to rest and relax after a long day of travel before the welcoming feast that was to be held that night.

The Targaryens started to make their way inside. Lucy shifted from foot to foot, only half hearing her mother’s voice or feeling her hand on her arm when she started to draw her away.

Her mind was too preoccupied with the memory of Thomaryon’s bright blue eyes, staring at her intensely from across the courtyard. Or the interest that she could have sworn she saw in them.

∗ ∗ ∗

The great hall of the Dreadfort was a dim and smoky abode. Rows of torches lined the walls, grasped by skeletal human hands. Long tables were set up before the dais that housed the high table and seat of the Lord of the Dreadfort. The ceilings were vaulted, wooden rafters dyed black from smoke.

Food was piled high on every table, black and red candles flickering in their stands. Cutlery clinked against plates, chatter growing louder throughout the hall as its residents downed wine or ale and became more acquainted with each other. Cheery music echoed through the hall; a strange thing, Lucy could not even remember the last time they’d had actual minstrels play for them in the castle.

Lucy sat between her mother and brother, Teddy at the high table, where all of houses Bolton and Targaryen were seated for the feast. Though as the evening went on, a few got up to mingle about the hall with the other guests.

Lucy picked at her meal and sipped at her wine, bored. Normally, Teddy would be her primary companion during an event like this, but he had been placed on Ricky duty by Amos and her father for the duration of the Targaryen’s stay. Which meant that he had to spend the majority of the evening trailing after their troubled little brother, snatching wine glasses out of his hand before had a chance to become too inebriated and make a fool of himself, as he was oft to do.

That left her on her own, gaze sweeping over their guests lazily. At the head of the table, Amos and Heavenerys sat side by side, talking animatedly. Lucy felt her brows draw in at the way that they were looking at each other. Heavenerys’s smitten expression was not entirely shocking; Amos had always been capable of being quite charming when he wanted to be. But the look on Amos’s face, one of almost complete captivation, took Lucy entirely by surprise.

“He seems quite taken with her,” her mother commented into her ear, having followed her gaze.

“Yes, he does.” Lucy shifted in her seat, swirling the red wine in her cup. “Who would have thought, eh?”

Her mother gave her a look. “Perhaps this was what he needed. Maybe she can…help him.”

You mean like how you helped Father? Remind me again how that’s worked out for you? She bit her tongue against the bitter words, glancing back over at their future king and queen.

“Perhaps,” she acquiesced. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.

That poor girl had no idea what she was in for. Amos may have turned up the charm now, but who knew if that would last after the other Targaryens returned to King’s Landing and left Heavenerys up here on her own.

Her mother rose from her seat to go mingle, leaving Lucy to observe the rest of the party on her own. Mikael was speaking softly with her father in the corner. Pollyanna, still seated in her chair at the high table, watched the other guests in the hall with a scrutinizing eye. Jon had gotten himself caught up in a rowdy drinking game. Aedarya and Fynlor were chatting with Elyas and William.

When her gaze shifted to fix across the room from her, it was to find a pair of what were becoming increasingly familiar blue eyes staring at her.

As soon as her and Thomaryon’s gazes met, he quickly looked away. She wished that she was closer or that the lighting of the hall was not so dim, so that she could tell if the slight hue that flared across his cheeks was an actual blush, or just a trick of the light. He returned his gaze back to Lord Karstark, who was speaking to him from his spot seated across the table from the prince.

But every so often, throughout the rest of the duration of the feast, she sensed his eyes flickering over to gaze at her from across the room.

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