The frigid air clawed against her skin and each breath that crystallized tore at her throat. Searching there was nothing but pure stark white like nothing she had ever seen. It crunched underneath as she moved the terrain utterly alien. She clamored to stand straight as the wind thrashed against her body. Screams poured out from every direction. Screams of women, children… and men. They deafened her as she begged-pleaded for it to stop. It approached from the seamless white. The soft sloughing of the horses hooves against the ground forced her eyes shut. She would not no...she could not look upon it again for each time it haunted her-drained her. That horrible face…. But it was inevitable as the skeletal mount stopped before her. She had no control as her eyes were pried open irrevocably required to look upward. He was there again...as he was every time she dreamed with his frigid blue hand held out for her.

"What do you want from me?" She whispered repeatedly. He never answered. As she never took his hand and he never forced her to do so, but a voice above the both of them called her name.

"My lady!" a voice called her from the cold void. Leona woke drenched in sweat - her palms, forehead, and oddly… between her legs even though her night clothes were light layered due to the summer heat of Kings Landing. "My lady are you alright?" the handmaiden, Korra - her bed mate- looked like a frightened doe with her large trembling brown eyes and full face.

"I'm fine. Just another nightmare. I'm sorry to have woken you." she replied cast away the lush feather bed. The suns golden lances were barely breaking the shield of night. She'd been having these strange recurring dream since her thirteenth name day… they day she first bled as a woman.

"Shall I fetch Maester Pycell?" the girl offered. Leona gave a long roll of her eyes. That man never did any good. He couldn't keep Uncle Jon from dying how could she expect him to aid in her prison of sleep.

"No, thank you though." she replied gently. It had only been a day since he had passed and already her father had assembled the royal caravan to head out to the North. She was not to go with them as she desperately wanted- as she had begged and beseeched her father, the King. No… Leona would heading to the far east to marry a Prince- a self-made Prince. Her mother had fought this for two long years, Leona could still hear the shrieks of her mother to this day. It had been one of the few battles the Queen had won recently. This time gave her ample time to grow from being a fourteen year old girl. This Prince was a patient man as those two years passed with little to no complaint from him. It wasn't that Leona was bitter about being married to a man that she had never set eyes upon. That was common for all Westeros girls in high birth. What made her as bitter as her mother's favorite Arbor wine was the fact that in exchange for her hand in marriage this Prince would be paying off a substantial amount of the Throne's debt to the Iron Bank. It made her feel more whore than princess. She sent Korra scampering away for food to break the night's fast. Meanwhile, Leona sat her vanity fighting the gold tumbling mess of her hair. She had the sharp angular face of her mother, matching deep emerald eyes, and high cheekbones. It made her look older, more refined and especially regal. The door to her chamber opened and she found it peculiar that Korra would have returned so quickly. It was not the maid but her little sister, Myrcella who was stifling a cry the best she could for an eight year old. Leona pivoted in the vanity chair opening her arms to the girl who gladly scurried into her lap. Every morning since Myrcella had enough hair to braid, even a simple one, Leona would do it.

"Who's going to do my hair now?" the girl asked wiping snot on her sleeve.

"You're a Princess," she kissed the top of her head, "There will be lines of people begging to do your hair."

The sentiment made her little sister content and pliable to easy fold in a singular decorative braid.

"Will I be able to visit you?" Myrcella asked. Korra returned with the youngest princess's handmaiden and baked porridge just in time for Leona to skip over that question for the answer would return the girl to tears. After eating Myrcella was bid to return to her room to dress and prepare for their departure from the Red Keep. All Leona's usual dresses of red-gold and green silk were packed away … only her 'maiden' dresses remained. Maiden dresses were traditional white as a symbol of their purity. She would wear them during the voyage across the Narrow Sea until her wedding night and after that would never be permitted to wear white again. The one laid out for her was gossamer chiton with golden shoulder claps in the shape of a crowned stag. It came over her head but it felt like she wore nothing as the air nipped at her chest. She would usually be grateful for a less constrictive garment, but oh she knew how the castle would whisper.

"Nothing intricate." She told Korra who was preparing to braid her hair in a traditional deeply woven southern style, "Travel demands simplicity."

The girl finished just as a stiff knock came to the door.

"Enter." Leona said as Korra was putting the final touches on the braid. An elderly Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, entered giving a slight bow in greeting. Ser Barristan was perhaps her favorite of the Kingsguard and she regretted that he would only be escorting her to Braavos, and not staying with her as Ser Claymount was.

"My Princess, the Queen wishes to see you personally before they depart." Korra touched her shoulder, a silent message to say that her hair was finished, and Leona slipped on her sandals to join the white knight. Her family wasn't going to leave without farewell. There would be a big ceremony on the steps of the Red Keep. The King would give her his blessings and she was to wish them good journey all for the common people to take in and see their smiling faces.

"Do you know our vessel's name, Ser Barristan?" she asked during their stroll to the Queen's chambers. Leona found it odd she knew so little of the actual voyage she was about to embark on.

"I do, my Princess, it is called the Southern Pearl." The Kingsguard said this with a kind enthusiasm. Many young girl's would elated to have their own ship given to them as a wedding gift, but the name made her want to ask if she was supposed to rename it after consummation of the marriage as pearls were an innate symbol of purity. She thanked him for escorting her upon reaching her mother's door. He bowed and turned departing down the hall when she entered. Queen Cersei sat laxed reclining to one side at her table picking apart at the food before her. Her mother was the essence of what a Queen and mother should be; beautiful, quick witted, stubborn, and had an endless supply of love for her children. The Grand Maester once said she was the exemplary vision of the 'Mother', though Leona was sure he was just over complimenting her as he did with all royalty. He had called her the 'Maiden' incarnate.

"Good morning, cub." She whispered delicately. Cub, was a pet name for Leona as her name was not only a recalling to a dead woman her father started a war for… but it also meant lion like the creature of Lannister, and since Cersei would have no part in the former, so the mother used the latter to call her in affection. Leona greeted her mother with a swift kiss to her frigid cheek before taking the chair opposite her. Her mother had barely touched the plate before her. "Did I ever tell you the story of the day you were born?" she kept the same quiet billowing tone.

"I don't believe so." Leona replied take the inner part of the bread on the table.

"I thought you were dead." The Queen said, "You didn't cry, scream or move and the attendant swept you away from me. I thought they were trying to spare me." She paused to put a hand on top of Leona's, "I didn't know you were alive until I screamed for answers and when they finally brought you to me I promised myself I wouldn't let a day go by without making sure you were alive and happy." There was a heavy squeeze, "And I failed you."

Leona had never seen her mother cry, and nor was she about to. Queen Cersei was not upset… no she was furious-enraged-irate which was a great deal more dangerous. Leona could see the seething undertone to her mother's otherwise placated manner. She was unsure how to respond. It was the truth. The Queen had failed to convince the King and Council that another match would be more beneficial. No other lordling had pockets as deep as this Prince. Her pleas could never have spoken louder than gold. In comfort Leona squeezed back telling her mother she had done all she could.

"I'm more than blessed for the years you bought me." Those two years felt squandered as they didn't prepare her any more than when she was fourteen, but she'd hold on to those memories – the tournaments, the days bathing in the sun in the Keep's gardens, and being with her siblings to share in their joys- for years to come. The chamber door swung open causing the hand on top of her's to stiffen if almost in fear.

"Good morning, Uncle Jamie." Leona greeted. She found it odd he wasn't wearing his white armor as they were due to depart in a few hours, but perhaps he was off duty.

"Ah, uh, good morning." He replied making only eye contact with his sister. They seemed to have a silent mental conversation as a moment passed without either of them speaking. "I was just coming to say that the train is preparing. Be expected to leave on schedule."

"Yes, thank you, brother." Her mother replied with a rather aggravated tone causing him to depart in haste. Leona chuckled,

"I wish Joffrey scuttled off that easy when he bothered me." Her mother promised that one day she'd miss her mischievous little brother, and only then did she take note of the stags bedecking her shoulders. Queen Cersei went to her vanity on the far side of the room instructing her to take the clips off. Leona unclasped them holding the dress to her chest She returned and from her closed hands produced two roaring lions heads,

"You are a lioness not some fragile doe." Her mother said fastening the pins in place of the stags, "Today, you can no longer be my cub. You are leaving the sanctity of the den." She took a thumb under her chin raising her head. Her eyes full of an intense need for her to remember, "You are above all of them every single cretin across the Narrow Sea. I want you to remember that."

Just something I started, let me know what you think and I'll continue!