you live or you die. got au.

[✨ zozo.]

↳ SUNNY LANNISTER HILL🦁

Your father might have claimed you - his wife, too - but you know you'll never really be a Lannister. Not properly. The rest of your siblings tease you, Hill a nickname since birth, but other than that they're kind at best. Mostly they just ignore you, Sunny of House Lannister, legitimised at birth but still not enough.

It's why you started acting out - figured you'd wedge the door open yourself rather than let it hit you on the way out. Letting rats loose in the bathing chambers just to hear the maids shriek, cackling through the halls. Hurling lumps of mashed potato at Prince Julien's head as he sat next to John Lannister, poking your tongue out at the returned scowls from your father. Picking fights with the stable boys, running through the great halls with your shoes muddied and dresses ruined, being spiteful to the woman you call mother but isn't. Not really.

Some wolf girl who took your father's fancy on a journey from the north. She never made it back home. They say he was set on throwing you out of the nearest tower window in her labours - but you arrived screaming, that mane full of golden light atop your head. A crown for a lion girl, John took you in his arms and gazed down upon that young girl's still corpse and marvelled at your first kill.

A terrible day, but the sun shone down at you through the windows. King Malachi the Righteous' blessing, your father had proclaimed. So Sunny Lannister you became, and Sunny Snow you might have been in another life.

But everyone in this castle sees you as Sunny Hill - even if you were only her for a mere few hours. They always will. You are feral, but you are not stupid. Bastard child - it follows you like a shadow, whispers from the help's cupped palms to ears. Mother killer. Half wolf, half lion, a strange creature neither here nor there.

So you become something worse: untamable. 

[ coding by griffin ]

[✨ zozo.]

↳ CLAUDE STARK 🐺

The lone wolf dies but Claude Stark still breathes.

Nobody would miss her, she had told mother & father, if she just left. The pack survived, hundreds of years after winter had ended and the creatures beyond the wall fell like snow. Lady Stark of Winterfell, one of dozens, a second cousin to the true heir. Her father was a spare, second in line, she the third. There was a life out there beyond sewing and marriage, walking about the garden, bathing twice a day in honeyed water. More than whatever else the girls in the North dreamed of.

They called her White Walker to be cruel, infamous child who stopped breathing at birth only to start screaming 16 minutes after her pronounced death. Her mother had wept tears of joy and they toasted to the gods for twelve days & twelve nights after her name day - Claude, strong of will. The lady who refused to die. 

The lady who refused to live for nothing but weddings and child-bearing - strange, serious child. So she left in the night atop her mare, day before her eighteenth nameday, cloak the colour of the midnight air - and when the sun rose on the new day she wept - free, living. Truly living for the first time in eighteen years and sixteen minutes.

A ghost haunts Claude Stark's dreams - she looks like the statues in the crypt. She carries a knife and she slaughters iced skeletons bearing the clothes of her childhood tormentors. "Not today," she had said, glistening eyes - Aria, she knows it to be true the moment she opens her eyes. So she sets sail for the Westerlands, beyond the lines of cartographers, tells the crew her name is Clementine Snow and she's barren - good with a knife, better with a sword, they let her on after she disarms five of their men in twenty seconds. 

Not today -- Aria smiles in her dreams. Knife glints in the sunlight- four years later and Claude Stark is just a memory now. A girl that once was. A ghost who died, haunted by her great ancestor. 

Until the whispers travel across the stormy seas -- King of The North is dead, no children, her father passed on. The lone wolf dies and Claude Stark still breathes.

At night she chews on two possible paths. Clementine Snow - Queen Claude of the North. Both with their freedoms. Both with their restrictions. She asks her ghost as she slumbers, voice an echo in dreams. 

What do I do?

Aria Stark smiles - 
Tomorrow.

Claude Stark, White Walker - she will rise from the dead, reborn as queen.

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