Writing Prompt!

Insert yourself/your character into your favorite work of fiction. How/why are you there? What is your character like? How do the other characters respond to you?

I chose Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin, and the character I created for myself is Lady Annora of house Firn, the Linen Armorer for Winterfell. Her dearest friend is Jon Snow. This story was created by using Jon's age/appearance from the show and takes place before the events of Book 1, so pre-Ghost and Longclaw, etc.

I set my sewing basket down on the stone floor of my quarters, then sat beside the fire to warm myself. When I regained feeling in my hands, I stood to take off my cloak but paused, admiring the sigil I'd recently embroidered onto the thick wool, a brown loom on a light grey background, the symbol of House Firn. 

Firn is a small house, much like the house Petyr Baelish had come from, lesser and largely unnoticed. But also like Lord Petyr, my father and I had done well for ourselves. We worked our way up from modest means in the eastern part of the Wolfswood and were now the master of carpenters and official linen armorer, respectively, of Winterfell.

I rather enjoyed living in Winterfell, the castle was filled with friendly people, and life here was far more comfortable than life in the Wolfswood. Father and I were both fond of working for Lord Eddard, a just and exceedingly kind man. In fact, all of the Starks were kind and had welcomed us warmly, except for Lady Catelyn. She was colder than Deepwood Motte.

I hung my cloak by the hearth and brought my sewing basket to the table so as to unpack it when I heard a knock on my open door,

"I've come for my gambeson, Lady Annora."

My heart skipped upon hearing Jon Snow's voice, and I quickly smoothed out my grey dress and patted my waist-length brown hair, then turned around,

"Yes, Lord Jon, right away," I answered with a big smile. 

No one else could call Jon a Lord, as it would be seen as an insult, but he knew I meant it as a term of endearment. We had grown to be close friends these last few years.

"Please come in," I welcomed him.

Jon stepped into my quarters, wearing a long black leather doublet and matching breeches, his great sword at his side. My stomach felt like two direwolves chasing one another as I admired him. I know I should hope a Lord above my station would fancy me or perhaps a revered knight, but I was in love with Jon, bastard or not.

I was ripped from my thoughts as Jon announced,

"I have something for you, my Lady." 

My heart fluttered when he said, 'my Lady.' If only I truly were his Lady!

I stepped toward him,

"Yes, L-," I gasped, realizing what was in his hand, "Madder plant! Jon, how did you manage this?" 

He shrugged as he held out the spindly gift. I eagerly accepted it, knowing my cheeks must have matched the reddish root.

"I have my ways," he stated. 

"Well, thank you very much for the thoughtful present, Lord Jon; you flatter me." 

"It's my pleasure, Lady Annora. I know you don't dye the items you make for us, but I thought this would be nice if you ever wanted to create something regal for yourself."

I nodded, too pleased to speak, and placed my treasured red dye on the side of the sewing table, then picked up Jon's gambeson with shaking hands,

"I, um, made this with the finest linen we had on hand, and I managed to find enough silk scraps to line the inside so it will be softer against your...skin."

"That's very thoughtful, Annora," Jon smiled. 

Jon's smiles were rare, rarer than Madder plant, and it delighted me whenever I saw one.

I held out the gambeson, and Jon inspected it, running his fingers over the quilting. 

"You sewed patches on the elbows," he mused.

"I did. I know how much it wears in that spot, so I've added thick layers."

"Thank you. Shall I try it on?"

"Please, my Lord."

Jon unbuckled his sword belt and laid it on the chair in front of the fire, then began to free himself of his doublet. I couldn't help but stare at his form, taking in his broad, muscular shoulders and rippled stomach. 

I swallowed, then helped him into his gambeson, trembling as he slid his arms into the sleeves.

"Is this comfortable, Jon?" I choked, trying to pretend I didn't desire him. 

"Aye, now, but it won't be when my plate armor is atop it."

I laughed quietly,

"No, I can't imagine it would be. Lucky you are so strong and can manage all that armor and your great sword." My cheeks flushed again, "Um, let me lace you into this, Lord Jon," I stammered, "I wish to make sure it fits."

He seemed to enjoy my compliment and gave me one in return,

"Your garments always fit, Annora." 

"You are full of cheer and sweet words today, Jon."

"Am I not all the time?"

We chuckled; Jon was always pleasant to everyone but had been known to brood about Winterfell. 

I began to tie the closures down Jon's front, taking my time, as I was pleased to be so close to him. He smelled like leather and metal, and I suspected he had come from the training yard.

"Praytell, where have you come from, my Lord? Were you and Robb training Bran or sword fighting?" I asked.

"Robb and I were sword fighting; we were trying to forget last night's folly."

"Oh, yes. I trust the banquet for Lord Bolton of the Dreadfort was-" I paused, "dreadful?"

Jon smirked,

"Indeed it was, my Lady. None of us care for Lord Bolton. We're glad he's left us."

"I'm sure your Lord Father pretended all was well and treated Lord Bolton as if he were king?"

Jon nodded, 

"Of course, father gives everyone regal treatment."

"And was his Lady wife kind to you?" 

"Lady Catelyn was h-," he stopped, his face full of guilt.

"It's okay, Jon; you can say she's horrible."

He looked torn between wanting to agree with me and not wanting to speak ill of the Lady of Winterfell. 

"It won't besmirch your honor to speak the truth," I said gently. 

Jon's face was sullen, but he still wouldn't admit Lady Stark treated him worse than she would a clumsy cupbearer. 

"Be careful, Annora," he finally responded, in a voice as warm as mulled cider, "If Lady Catelyn heard that slight, she would send you away, or worse."

"Lord Eddard is too gentle to allow her to do such a thing. Besides, would all the Stark men want to settle for less than the best battle linens?"

"You are the best, my Lady," Jon conceded.

My cheeks would never lose their red now. Afraid Jon would comment on my rosy appearance and remembering why he was even here in the first place; I quickly patted the shoulders of his gambeson,

"How does this fit, my Lord?"

"Perfectly. As always."

I motioned for Jon to turn around, so I could inspect it from every angle, and when I was satisfied, I pointed to the laces,

"Very well then, off with it."

Jon started pulling at the strings and grinned,

"You forget your manners, my Lady," he teased.

Smiles from Jon in abundance,  praise The Seven!

"And you have forgotten to undo the second closure from the top, my Lord," I pointed out, reaching for the leather laces. 

"So I have," he agreed.

We silently untied the garment until it opened, and instead of taking the gambeson off of Jon, I dared to slide my hands under the fabric to his smooth, bare shoulders. 

I was surely as scarlet as Dornish wine now, and honor-obsessed Jon may have thought I was near tainting my own honor, but I couldn't let go of him and didn't want to. 

He looked sad and conflicted, and I was scared he was going to push my hands away, so I squeezed his shoulders,

"Jon? No matter Lady Stark's station, nor yours, you don't deserve poor treatment," I insisted, staring up into his shining eyes, eyes the color of midnight. 

Jon was frozen in place, and I was about to snatch my hands away and beg his forgiveness, when he clasped his hands over mine, his warm hands, calloused from many long hours grasping reigns and sword hilts.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, our titles be damned to the seven hells! 

His chest rose and fell quickly, warmth radiating off his body. 

My heart ached as it pounded hard against my chest.

Finally, Jon spoke, whispering,

"Thank you, my Lady."