Work Header

The Tale Of Arrana Stark

Chapter Text


Knock, knock.



"Wake up sleepy! It's a new day with new possibilities."

"Go away...want... sleep..."

"Come on. I can't keep on making excuses for you any longer. Now get up!"

Laila. My handmaiden from the Summer Isles. Her real name isn't Laila, but her actual name is to difficult to pronounce for anyone here in Winterfell.                                   

She doesn't have the average skintones that most of the people on the Isles have, but something in between. Her mother was from the Summer Isles, her father a sailor from White Harbor. He stayed on The Isles for some years before he returned north,  taking her with him. After that, I don't know anything else than that she ended up here.

She is a quite tall woman with an hourglass-figure and the biggest breasts I've ever seen. She is very strict, and sometimes she even pulls my hair, but that is only the times when she thinks I'm unsuitable. Sometimes I really hate her, but most of the time we act like sisters, joking and talking about everything and nothing. She is definetely a better sister than Sansa.

" Come now, up with you. And don't tell me you've forgotten that the king is arriving today."

What?! Oh, no. Of course, he's coming today, father told me weeks ago! How on earth could I forget it?

The wooden floor is freezing cold, but right now, there's nothing else that matters. 


Looking at myself in the mirror, I only see one big messy pile of hair hanging from my head. It is as freaky as never before, hanging in thick laces that covers my face. Laila stands behind me, trying to get control over my messy red hair. Naughty is still sleeping on top of the furs, growling in her sleep. She's dreaming again. Probably of a hunt in the snow, or running. There is nothing in the world she likes better than running.

"How is it that your hair always ends up being a total mess on special occasions?"

I just smile back at her, and she smiles back. Suddenly she starts laughing, and when Laila starts laughing no one can keep a strict face. We laugh and laugh until I can barely breath.

When we have come to ourselves again she brushes my hair trie's to brush my hair. When she's done she divides my hair in two braids. She lays the braids over my shoulders and help me put on my finest dress. At least the septa will be happy.

She gives me a quick hug before hushing me of to breakfast.