;; the fighter

there was no such warmth for cyrene. dacey did not miss the way cyrene's smile froze at the sight of her, and she responded by doing what she always did - by drawing back, away from what it was that was making her feel as though she did not belong here, in this place, where countless generations of starks had walked before. their reunion had been a tense one, and it seemed to have lingered.

and yet, she tried not to make it evident upon her face, tried not to spoil the peace the rest of them seemed to feel upon this reunion. cassana still stood by her side, and she allowed herself to draw strength from her presence, as she often did without the other knowing it. it was enough to paint a smile on her face, swallow down that knot of anxiety, and respond to what adam was saying, reminding herself that moment like these, when they got to be together like this, were a rare gift for them all.

"it does," she replied softly to adam, surprising even herself with the fact she were the first to speak. "i don't think i can recall the last time so many of us were here at once. it is usually quieter in the godswood, now life has taken us in our own directions." but for a moment, she could hear the shades of their childhood around them, laughter that had begun to echo long ago, and she felt a strange longing in her chest for it now. "but i have missed it. and i am glad the old gods saw fit to bring us together here again." even with those missing. even with those lost.

Smoke paced at his side, his massive head turning between the voices, but Owen remained still. He thought of what Adam said—brings back memories—and it did. Childhood felt like another life, a different man’s story. A secret cave with Jon and Alys. A pack that once felt unbreakable. It was a cruel thing, to be reminded of what time had taken.

He exhaled, steady and even. “Too often, we only come together when we bury our own.” His voice was low, but it carried. “I’d rather not wait for the next grave.”

His gaze flickered toward Cyrene, then Cassana, before settling on Dacey. He saw the way she withdrew, the way her shoulders tensed. Owen knew that weight well. He let the moment pass without remark, but he saw it.

“I won’t make speeches about family,” he said simply. “But the gods brought us here, and I’ll take it for what it is.” A pause. “Even if I’m still the only one putting food on the table.” A small, brief smirk. His way of lightening the moment. His way of saying this is good.

cassana let out a slow breath, easing against dacey’s side and at her gentle sisterly touch. there was something steadying about being here, surrounded by her siblings. even with the quiet tensions that still lingered between some of them, there was warmth too— they were still a pack.

then the wind shifted.

the rustling of the weirwood’s crimson leaves carried something else beneath it, something almost spoken. cassana froze, her breath hitching in her throat as a whisper curled through the air, just faint enough to make her question if she had heard it at all. she turned her head toward the tree. her eyes questioning what she had heard. her eyes flickered to her siblings to see if any of them heard it. she knew better.

her fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into the leather of her gloves as she forced herself to focus on the moment—on owen’s steady presence, on dacey beside her, on adam and cyrene speaking of things that had nothing to do with the voice creeping at the edges of her mind.

not now. not here. not even if it was the ol gods whispering their approval at the reunion. she hoped it was that

she turned her gaze back to her siblings, her expression smoothing into something lighter, more controlled as she smiled. “i agree. this is better to see everyone like this. cyrene needs to visit more often so we are all together more,” she said, her voice deliberately easy.

another whisper. a brush against her thoughts.

blinking hard before rolling her shoulders back. she glanced at their eldest brother with a teasing glint in her eye “only one putting food on the table? are we due for a stark hunt once more? i forget who held the record for the biggest animal caught.” she said “a small celebration of sorts perhaps”

The weirwood stood silent and watchful in the godswood, its ancient face carved with an expression that was hard to interpret. Was it divine awe or agony? Vilde stood beneath its outstretched branches, facing that trunk as the red leaves above rustled softly in the wind, their sound like a whisper of voices too faint to truly listen.

She tilted her head to the side, her gaze fixed on the tree’s face. Do I hear you, or am I only hearing myself? she wondered. The question had lingered in her mind for years now, since she became her clan's sálþyrja. Sometimes, when she performed the rites for the dead, she thought she could hear them —voices threading through her thoughts. She had never been able to discern if it was the echoes of those who died, if the old gods themselves were pressed their will into her mind, or if it was simply her own mind, too muddled, too burdened, for Vilde to even recognize herself in the murmurings.

cassana hesitated just beyond the tree line, the familiar scent of pine and cold earth filling her lungs. the godswood had always been a place of solace for her, a refuge from the weight of expectations and the noise of the world. but lately, even here, the quiet was no longer comforting. it pressed in on her, thick and suffocating, filled with whispers she couldn’t shut out.

vilde was already there, standing beneath the weirwood’s bleeding leaves, looking as though she belonged to it more than any person did. cass had known she would be here. she’d felt it, the same way she felt the pull of her visions, dragging her toward something inevitable. “vilde” her voice calling out to her. calling out to the friendship she had, she needed now.

“you hear them too.” the words left her lips before she could stop them, barely more than a breath of air between them. she stepped closer, boots crunching over the frost-hardened ground, her voice steadier this time. “i know you do.” she said glancing up to the trees

there was no accusation in her tone, only a quiet certainty. vilde had always understood. before everything—before the war, before mira’s death, before the lines had been drawn in blood between the starks and the harclays—vilde had been the one person cass could talk to about this. the only one who didn’t look at her like she was losing her mind even when she explained things that seemed impossible.

cass swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “the day brandon saved me,” she said, forcing herself to say it aloud, to make it real. “the woods were screaming. it wasn’t just the wind, it wasn’t just in my head. the trees—” she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “they were telling me to run. they wanted me to move, to listen. and i did.”

she met vilde’s gaze then, searching for something—reassurance, validation, anything to ground her. “tell me i’m not going mad, vilde.” her voice wavered, the strength she had been trying so hard to hold onto slipping through her fingers like snow. “tell me you hear them too.”

“Everything is… as well as it can be,” Cyrene replied at last, her voice low, carrying a note of practiced composure. She glanced briefly at the canopy of bare trees overhead. “I might ask the same of you, though I suspect you’d tell me nothing’s amiss.”

Her words hung in the frosty air, a quiet challenge and an offering all at once. Cassana had always been the one whose emotions lay closer to the surface. Cyrene envied that, in a way — envied the vulnerability that her sister seemed to wield without apology.

“Did you read my letters?” she asked suddenly, her tone lighter now, edged with the faintest trace of teasing. “Not that it matters, I suppose. Stubborn wolves, all of you. But gods, Cass… if you had seen the way I worried.”

She exhaled, a soft plume of breath escaping her lips, before shifting her attention fully to her sister. “I can’t lose another one of you,” she said, her voice quieter now, more deliberate. “Not again.”

cassana let out a slow breath, watching it dissipate into the cold air between them. the words settled in her chest, heavier than they had any right to be. she hated this—hated the way her family had to worried for her, how they looked at her like she was something fragile. like if they weren’t careful, she’d shatter right in front of them. the mind of a greenseer was a gamble for them. she didnt want to lose that gamble.

“i read them,” she admitted, running a gloved hand through her hair before shaking her head. “every single one, cy. i just… didn’t know what to say bac sometimes. but i did write back…maybe not enough.” it was the truth, if not the whole of it. she had read each letter until the words blurred, until she could almost hear cyrene’s voice in them. but no matter how many times she tried to put ink to parchment, the right words never came out right.

she kicked at a patch of frozen earth, forcing a breathy chuckle. “you worried? you must be getting soft in the riverlands.” the teasing lilt in her voice was weak, a poor attempt at deflection, and she knew it. cassana wasn’t sure she had the strength to pretend, not here, not with cyrene.

at her sister’s last words, cass’s teasing expression faded. she turned to cyrene fully then, her gaze steady, the weight of the moment pressing against her ribs. “you’re not going to lose me,” she said, and she wanted to believe it, needed cyrene to believe it too. “i swear it.” but they had almost lost her. taken from them for a time but she knew each day the false king who’d taken her might decide to kill her. might decide this was the day. even as she was tied to the weirwood tree in a wedding gown. even as brandon saved her. somehow that threat still clawed at her throat.

her fingers twitched at her sides, wanting to reach out. she hesitated only for a moment before pulling her sister in to hold her tightly. forcing steel into her voice so it would not waiver. so her sister wouldnt doubt her strength “you’ve got me, cy. always. even if you’re lady frey, you’re still my sister. and i—” she hesitated, just for a breath, before pushing forward, “—i missed you. i really have. i’m sorry i havent written enough”

Adam looked at his younger sister in silence. She spoke of quitting the substance and ensuring he didn't take it again as if it was something that had not crossed his mind already. Thinking about stopping and actually being able to do it were different matters. The Stark prince had prided himself on being a determined man before, but sheer determination wasn't enough when something inside urged him to take another dose.

“Owen knows,” he admitted plainly. Owen sanctioned it, he thought but didn't say it. Their brother only agreed to have Adam and his men take the substance for the war once the prince had already tried it for himself. And so he did not want to have Cass' pent-up anger be aimed toward their eldest brother for a misleading reason. “I can barely last two days without feeling like my mind is shattering,” the Commander replied. There were things he was saying and things he kept to himself, for it was much too complex to detail every little symptom the withdrawal could bring. But this element in particular —the effect on the mind— was something he wished to bring out with Cassana because of her own experiences with her visions. “I've seen things, Cass. Well, not seen, not really. It's like my eyes are blindfolded and scenarios are built in my mind through sounds, sensations that I feel on my skin as I were touching things that I know are not really around,” the prince went on, trying to make sense of the overwhelming abstractions he sensed during those events.“I've had a few of those strange episodes since I began to try to quit the substance”.

And then she asked it, if it had been worth it. “It made all the difference,” he stated without an ounce of hesitation. The cost to pay had been high, but it would have been higher still to have lost gods knew how many more lives had Adam and his men not been able to cut through the Umber forces like they did. They planted inexplicable fear in the hearts of their opponents, they razed through the field of battle like unearthly creatures that needed no rest, protected true Northern men, women and children, and survived.

“But all of that is over. My son needs me to stop,” the lone wolf of House Stark admitted, managing more conviction in his voice than he had in all of their conversation. Hadrian had lost his mother already. He could not lose his father to a slow decay. “And I need your help, Cass. I need to learn what to do with these—,” he touched his temple, unable to find other words to describe the episodes he experienced. “Like you've learned how to handle better what you see”.

cassana’s fingers tightened around the bag as adam’s words sank in. she felt the weight of them, heavy as the winters they both carried in their blood. she hadn’t expected him to be so honest, so unguarded, and it unsettled her in ways she couldn’t articulate. cass couldnt remember when adam was likethis—he was the stoic one, the soldier who always seemed to have a plan. hearing him like this, seeing the cracks, made her chest tighten with a mix of frustration and fierce protectiveness. maybe she had today more. she couldnt. not when he needed her.she could push it down.

"you’ve seen things," she repeated, her voice quieter now, though no less intense. “adam, that… that’s not something to play with. i’ve lived with it my whole life, and i wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you.” she looked at him, her newly green eyes meeting his, her expression softening just enough to show her worry. “you have to write it all down. every sound, every feeling, no matter how strange it seems. it won’t make it go away, but it’ll help you make sense of it. and maybe… maybe it’ll help me figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”

her hand brushed over the bag again before she set it firmly on the table between them. “but i’ll tell you this, adam. i pray to the old gods every day that your visions stop. that you never have to carry them the way i do. yes it’s a blessing from the old gods but it can feel the opposite of it. and i’ll do everything i can to make sure it doesn’t become one for you.”

cass leaned forward, her tone sharpening with determination. “you said you need my help, and you’ve got it. i’m going to get you off this stuff, adam. i don’t care how hard it is or how much you fight me on it. you’re my brother. you’re my pack. and i won’t lose you—not to this.”

when there was enough courtiers in winterfell for the great hall to be full at meal times, it was always a roll of the dice whether dacey would attend or not. there were times where she would go months without showing her face in the hall.

today was one of those times. it had been two weeks since the last time she'd eaten anywhere that wasn't her own chambers. the kitchen staff were used to checking where she would prefer to take her meals by now. if they didn't, it was likely dacey would not eat at all, far too polite to make a fuss.

today was different, though. cassana had decided to join her. that alone was enough to almost completely turn dacey's mood around. socialising with most people was often draining for her - but not with her little sister. around cassana, any anxiety dacey held almost evaporated entirely. she was grateful for that - as she was grateful for her company tonight.

"it's almost finished," she spoke of the tapestry, still hanging from the loom in the corner of the room, a complex pattern of silvers and forest greens, the lastest in a never ending series of works woven by dacey's own hand to steady herself when it was all too much. "it would have been by now, but i lost a few nights of work when owen held his ball. you can have it, if you want it."

cassana settled into the familiar warmth of dacey’s chambers, the space exuding her sister’s quiet strength and grace. sharing a meal with dacey had become a comforting ritual—a way to connect amidst the chaos of winterfell, to ensure her sister didn’t quietly skip meals as she was prone to do. there were times recently when she had already eaten but took as small second dinner to eat with her sister,not telling her she’d already eaten.she wanted just to be around her.

“you know,” cass began, sliding a bottle onto the table between them with a sly grin.she'd brought along a bottle of ale from their private stores, tucked discreetly beneath her cloak like a conspirator’s prize. “i thought tonight called for something special. straight from the collection the kitchen is so protective of. they won’t notice one missing.” the sparkle in her eye hinted she was daring enough to test that assumption.

her gaze wandered briefly to the tapestry hanging from the loom, its intricate greens and silvers glinting softly in the firelight. she marveled at dacey’s skill, the delicate patterns forming a story only her sister could tell. to create was her sisters gift. “it’s beautiful,” cass said, her voice tinged with admiration. “you put us all to shame with your patience”

at the offer, cassana’s brows lifted in genuine surprise. “for me?” her smile softened, touched by dacey’s generosity. “i’d love to have it, but only if you’re sure. it belongs here, though—with you. this is your work, dace. are you sure?”

The war had come, the fire had come, and Cyrene had grown into a woman. A woman who stood alone, walls of ice grown between those she had held close and those she had not. The dragons had danced and Adam had grown into a man. A good man. A protector.

With every letter she penned, with every one she received, every visit he payed her at the Twins, she'd felt a gnawing sort of guilt take hold in her chest. She had never been fair to him. It was just like time, allowing her to realize how wrong she had been about her very own brother.

Her fingers tightened around his. Warmth meeting warmth among familiar cold. "I told no one," she admitted, a glimmer of mischief dancing within her eyes. "Well, other than all those who traveled with me." Adam's eyes were searching hers, roving over her every expression, her demeanor. "And my husband." She made a point out of telling him. This had been agreed upon. Even if in her very depth, she despised having to gain permission for anything from anyone.

From what Cyrene had confided in him through their letters over the last few years and Adam's own experiences with Lord Frey, he had formed a judgment about the lord that was most unfavorable. He did not trust the man in any capacity, not even to ensure the princess would be safe and unharmed within the halls of her own keep in the Riverlands.

“Apologies that I have no compliments to offer to your lord husband,” he answered with a subtle scoff. Though Adam usually reserved his thoughts on the man for a time in which he could speak them, rather than leave a trace of them on letters. “Did Mako and Wylla travel with you?” he asked then, for he relished the opportunities to see his young nephew and niece. Despite bearing the name of a man Adam didn't particularly like, they were Starks by blood and his care for Cyrene extended to her children as well.

It had been most unexpected to find Cyrene here in Winterfell without a prior word of her arrival, and it was without a doubt a very welcome surprise. “Gods, it is good to see you, sister,” the prince said after a moment, offering his sister a smile before going ahead to pull Cyrene close for a warm embrace.

oftentimes, when she visited, she would find herself here alone. today, that was not so. the figures of her elder brother and sister loomed before her, sharing a moment of tenderness. she was glad of that - her own reunion with cyrene had been a frosty one, and that was enough to both weigh on her conscience and have her hesitating, dithering between the trees as she pondered whether to interrupt, if her presence would be welcomed in the moment they shared. she was about to turn and return to the keep, leaving them to it, when the sound of her footsteps had adam turning, and she could no longer pretend she had never been there at all.

instead of turning, dacey drew a little closer, leather-gloved hands clasping together before her, coming to a stop a few meters away from them. near, but still apart, still retaining some distance. "sorry," her voice was sheepish when she spoke, the smile on her face a tentative one. "i didn't mean to intrude on you." she'd caught none of their conversation, but before she could speak, another of their kin made their presence known, and her tension relaxed a little. "we're all of a similar mind today, i think."

The sound of voices caught this attention. He dragged his fingers over his beard and took wrapped an arrow around his finger and lined it up as he walked closer. Calm washed over him as the voices were suddenly familiar and strange to him. Cyrene sounded different to his ears but he knew he all same. Adam was Adam, if his voice changed Owen would think another wore his face. And of course, Dacey, she carried a weight he always put on her shoulders. "Smoke get off her." Owen called out, putting the arrow away as Smoke ran up to Cyrene and put muddy paws on her front.

"And what do we have here?" A smiled graced his features briefly. "Starks in the Godswood. Have I stumbled upon the secret club house or has the old Gods brought us here?" Owen remember his secret cave with Alys and Jon, and it pained him to think of them so he pushed it away. "It's been too long since we've been a pack. We just need Cass." Those who were home at least. Life pulled them apart and together. Even as he tried, Owen did not feel like a brother. He felt like a King and he did not know how to turn it off.

cassana had always trusted her instincts. it was a trait that served her well as both a fighter and a hunter, but it was especially valuable to her as a greenseer. often, she felt her instincts pull her to places she needed to be, even if she didn’t fully understand why. she never questioned it; to her, it was simply the call of the old gods. right now, that pull felt like an invisible thread, guiding her steadily toward the weirwoods. and so she followed it, letting the whisper of her intuition lead her steps.

when she emerged into the clearing, she was met with a sight that surprised her: all of her siblings, already gathered beneath the ancient, watchful eyes of the weirwoods.

"i guess i have good timing, then, brother," she called out to owen with a smile. "looks like i was the last to get the message from the old gods to come out here." her laugh was light, tinged with a warmth that had been missing for far too long. there was a brightness about her today, a flicker of the joy that used to radiate from her so naturally. since coming home from the war and all that happened, that brightness had been elusive. but seeing her siblings gathered here like this… it stirred something within her, a familiar warmth that spread through her chest and softened her smile.

her gaze fell on cyrene, "you know, i thought i had a dream about you visiting us, cyrene. i thought maybe it was just a normal dream. but i suppose i was right on that one." she mused, her voice playful. she moved to dacey’s side, resting her head gently on her sister’s shoulder for a moment, seeking the quiet comfort of her presence like she often did. "or maybe it’s just a coincidence… who knows.”

It had cost Cyrene a whole lot of questioning and unwilling servants to disclose the location of her sister. Cyrene had been a thorn in their sides as a young Lady, but now she was simply a stranger. And one thing was certainly worse than the other.

In the end, the training grounds had reluctantly been pointed out to the Lady of House Frey.

shit

cassana thought she’d mastered this by now. being home was supposed to be enough—the walls of winterfell, her family around her, the assurance that the man who haunted her was dead and buried, far from where she would ever see him again. but still, it crept in, icy fingers of panic slipping under her skin when she least expected it. she didn’t even know what had triggered it this time. a sound, a smell… something subtle yet powerful enough to pull her back to places she’d rather forget.

she was a stark. a wolf. a greenseer. she was supposed to be strength itself. she would be strength, no matter what memories tried to claw at her from the shadows. swallowing down the rising panic, she forced herself to breathe, to stay still when her entire body urged her to scream, to run. cassana fixed her eyes on something distant, something real—the line of trees in the distance, a bird arcing across the gray sky, or the thin plume of smoke winding up from a chimney. small, solid things to anchor her in the present. back to her strength.

she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice her sister’s approach until cyrene was suddenly beside her.

“shit oh, gods, cyrene, you scared me.” the words slipped out, a little sharper than intended, not exactly the composed tone a princess was supposed to maintain. but cass had never been as polished as her sisters. “sorry,” she muttered at the unlady like language like she was kid trying not to get scolded again.

cass looked around at the slightly busy training grounds then back to her sister, “come on,” she said, gesturing to a path that led away from the bustle, a small corner of the grounds where the world felt more still, more private.

as they walked, cass stole a quick glance at her sister, searching her face. “everything alright?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with a quiet protectiveness. cyrene had come to find her, after all. that meant something.

The lone wolf of House Stark looked down at the cup he had in his hand. He'd barely drunk from it. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip. He rolled his lips and nodded in response to Cassana's question. She knew the story behind the obscure substance. The whole North knew by now. Yet no one but those who'd used it could truly speak of what that powder could truly do.

“Because I've not been able to stop taking it,” Adam replied. Quick and simple. That was the whole truth. For the first time, the prince had acknowledged that he no longer controlled why he took the substance, or how much of it he took. “It's like... like I could burn through it during the war. It balanced out with what the battlefield demanded, so I never felt an urge. But not anymore. My mind is splitting if I don't use this thing”.

something gnawed at her—a fierce, unrelenting urge to fight. it simmered in the back of her mind, a voice whispering, urging her to snap, to lash out at all of them. but most of all, at adam. the guilt was there, a constant thorn in her heart, but she knew she had to push it aside, bury it deep for the moment. sooner or later, she was bound to say something she would regret, but right now, she couldn’t stop the torrent of words that spilled from her lips.

the youngest stark forced herself to drop one of the argument, at least for now, and focus on what mattered more—the small, unassuming bag in front of her. whatever this was, it had taken a grip on her brother, sinking its claws into him. "then we need to find a way to make sure you don’t have to take this anymore." she said, her voice low and steady, though her eyes were anything but calm. they burned with a mix of anger and worry as she looked at him. "you can’t be reliant on this, adam. it was foolish to take it in the first place."

for a moment, she considered tossing the bag back to him, letting him deal with the consequences of his choices. she couldn't do that. couldn't do that to adam. but instead, she purposefully held it back, clutching it tightly as if it were a lifeline to keep from him. she doubted this was all he had, though. she was sure there was more hidden somewhere.

"does owen know? dacey? anyone else?" she pressed, needing to know who else was aware of this. it would be important for them to understand, to figure out a way to put an end to this even if they might share her anger. "how long have you gone without it?" she asked, her voice softening as she opened the bag slightly, peering inside. the anger still roiled within her, a storm not yet spent, but it was tempered by her worry, by the desperate need to help, even if she wanted to punch him out at the same time.

"did it really make that much of a difference on the battlefield?" she asked, the question heavy with both skepticism and concern. her eyes searched his, hoping to find some semblance of the brother she knew beneath the layers of guilt and desperation.

Where: Winterfell's Courtyard

When: Before the beginning of The Winter Ball, Baelon just arrived in Winterfell

Baelon did not mind the North. Actually, the only thing about it that bothered him was the cold, but he could deal with that. When he got the invitation from the King in the North to attend the event, he did not hesitate to accompany his sister. Baelon didn't want to let her attend alone, plus it was a good chance to get drunk without much judgement, it was a celebration after all. Along with that, the Starks were loyal to his mother to the very end and Baelon does not forget that. Even now, he believes that they did not forget their vows.

The trip had been a long and tiring one and Baelon could not wait to find his chambers, where a nice bed and a warm fire would be waiting for him. Winterfell was as beautiful as ever, the whole of the North was an incredible place, even though in his opinion, nothing would ever come close to his home of Dragonstone.

Baelon climbed down from his horse once they entered the courtyard of the castle. He handed the horse's lead to one of the servants that had come to meet him and his caravan, before nodding and thanking the young boy. Baelon paused for a moment, admiring his surroundings and observing who had already arrived in Winterfell. Not a familiar face, from what he could see. Although he failed to notice the figure approaching him.

it felt nice to have people visit the north once again. it had been long enough since they had a true reason to celebrate up north. with the fighting and then the death of their queen there had no seemed to be much of a cause for celebration. but this was good. a sign of the north growing, expanding into what it should be. and like any good sister should, cassana was excited for her brother and a potential new bride. the north needed a queen. a strong queen.

owen had tasked her with leading the new queen's guard, so she could only hope that whoever he picked she got along with. though so far from the people she had seen come through, she doubted it would be very hard to bond with whoever would be her new good sister.

rumors had been circulating that the delegation from dragonstone would be arriving today. and it certainly was not hard to spot one of them riding up into the courtyard. for once it was nice to see the silver hair and not hide the urge to roll her eyes. 

the cool air of the north moved around all of them. though the air lacked a frost in it. it was a beautiful day for a ride on a horse and for traveling. they arrived in perfect weather for a celebration. hopefully a sign of good luck. perhaps if she dared she might push her will for a vision to visit her that night. give her some insight into all of them.

“prince baelon” the youngest stark greeted the prince with a curtsey. she was getting better at this. dacey was the best of all of them. she had the perfect poise of a princess. “welcome to winterfell. we are very happy that you and your sister could join us.” or at least she assumed they were all happy they were here. “i can show you to your chambers if you wish, or show you around the castle. i know you have had a long journey up.”

the lann's day festivities were, perhaps, the most interesting part of norbie's visit to the westerlands. where the fair games, the king's games, and even the chariot racing were suited to those whose physical capabilities were far beyond norbie's own, the competitions and games of the festival were far better suited to his own strengths - displays of wit, of cleverness. not to mention the colours of the decor, the entertainment on display. all in all, it had been rather a good day.

he had even been excited to continue the merriment with the unmasking game when night fell - only to find himself unmasked before night had even fell by a smug stormlander he had known in his time fostered there. scowling, norbie paid the fee, and prepared to leave to return to his lodgings.

he had not left the festival yet when a conversation caught his eye. a girl - unmasked, one he recognised as princess cassana of the north, locked in conversation with the one who seemed to have revealed her. either she had forgotten her coin purse, and could not pay the fee, or simply did not want to.

"excuse me," norbie stepped in. "i will pay for her grace." he offered a coin, and the unmasker left, seemingly satisfied. he turned to cassana, offering an awkward bow. "excuse me for interrupting, your grace." he resisted the urge to ask when he could expect her to pay him his coin back. he was notoriously tight-fisted for one with the wealth of the graftons at his fingertips.

"it would seem neither of us are very good at this particular game."

the north had only been in the westerlands for a short time, yet whispers of discontent already rippled through the court. she could hear the grumblings from her countrymen, their eagerness to return home palpable beneath the thin veneer of politeness. there was always something disorienting about visiting the other kingdoms—the unfamiliarity of the customs, the subtle but persistent tension in the air. or perhaps it was simply her own longing to be back in the familiar cold embrace of the north that made her restless whenever they traveled.

still, she tried to lose herself in the celebrations, to let her mind wander free and just enjoy the night. but that was easier said than done, especially now when she found herself more prone to anger than ever before.

it was surprisingly easy to go unnoticed through the night. people seemed to forget the presence of northerners entirely, and she took a certain mischievous delight in their repeated wrong guesses. it made the evening more enjoyable, a small rebellion against the constant feeling of being out of place. that was until one lord, barely sparing her a glance, correctly guessed her identity.

she sighed, reaching to pull off her mask and pay the forfeit, only to realize with a jolt that her coin purse was missing. had she forgotten it, or had someone swiped it from her? panic flickered in her chest as she tried to think of an excuse, but before she could muster a response, lord grafton stepped in, smoothly paying the fee. the other lord, satisfied with his prize, moved on to unmask someone else.

relief washed over her as she turned to lord grafton, offering him a grateful smile. “no need to apologize, my lord. i am in your debt, not only for the coin but for stepping in when you did.” there was a touch of amusement in her eyes. “that man seemed very upset i had no coins on me. i wouldn’t have been surprised if he expected to follow me back to my chambers to retrieve it.” she rolled her eyes slightly, the absurdity of the situation not lost on her.

she glanced down at the mask in his hand and nodded toward it. “i thought perhaps i was well hidden enough behind the mask, but i suppose not. at least i’m not the only one,” she added with a wry smile. “did you manage to catch anyone yourself?”

Owen didn't feel he cornered the market for exhaustion, his sister went through a lot. And perhaps it was a sign that she did not need to play soldier any longer. The longer he looked at her he saw a woman. Not a little girl. But a small woman who could do more than a boy her size. Yes, she was gifted with a bow. And she would be of more use doing something else.

“a poor jest on my part brother sorry” she said leaning up against the stone wall. “it’s quiet up here, i understand why you would want to come here as well.” there was something different that weighed on her brother now that he was a king with multiple wars under his belt. how could that not change him? how could it not change all of them. 

sometimes she wished she could reach out to lift the weight from him. if there was a way. she didn’t know if she could or if he would let her. he was her king but also her brother.and after they had lost their father owen was the one cassana looked up to. he was the one they all sought guidance from. it weighed on her heart that she felt she could not do enough to repay that.

his next words surprised her and there was no mistaking that on her face. she never had a great poker face with ehr family. “owen…you…you honor me with that title. thank you, truly. i won’t let you down.” she said. it truly was an honor to be trusted with something like this. it was not something to be taken lightly. she straightened up. it felt like the moment deserved that respect. “i will start to think of some women who would be fitting.” it did not escape her when he said there was no need for battles anymore. her jaw clenched slightly at the thought, but it was not out of anger at her brother. none of them had yet to really talk about it. “i think dacey and our other sisters are before me for husbands. i am sure it will be easy enough to find good men for them.” harder to find a men for her. did he know? she always wondered how many of her siblings knew. if she hide it enough. or if they would care.

cass adjusted her grip on the wooden sword, feeling its weight settle in her hands. it wasn't the real thing, but a blow from one of these still hurt like hell, leaving you bruised and aching for days if there was enough force behind it. no, it wouldn't kill, but it could certainly leave its mark—a lesson learned through pain and many many bruises. she steeled herself, hoping to walk away with only a bruise or two. aleks was an excellent swordsman, one of the best she knew, which was precisely why she chose to train with him. he pushed her, forced her to be better. she knew she might never be the best, but she could be better than her enemy, and that was enough.

"i could spend an hour lecturing on why they’re all so stuffy," she said with a wry smile. "maybe we can discuss it over a drink later. i might need one after this."

she gave the wooden sword a small flourish, stepping closer to aleks, her eyes narrowing in focus. for a moment, she held back, waiting to see if he would make the first move. when he didn’t, she advanced, her feet light on the ground. with a swift motion, she swung the sword toward his left side, testing his reflexes.

“better not go easy on me, alright?” she called out, a challenging grin tugging at her lips. the game was on, and she wanted to earn every bruise, every win. she needed this, the thrill of the fight, the chance to sharpen herself against someone who could truly challenge her. she would feel better knowing she was getting better.

it were obvious that there was something to talk about in the air; something grievous that cassana had missed during her absence, and then the experience she had been forced to live in the hands of the traitors. "you're in no condition to take watch, cass." he responded, his words weary; not only was she malnourished, exhausted and traumatised, he knew that such a surge of emotions could result in her warging to feel safe.

he had learned that the hard way, during a journey which seemed as though it were from another time now.

there was a time where the sun of winter could not fathom a logical reason as to why any would wish to take a stand against the starks; not just for reasons of practicality, but genuine loyalty. now, he realised; the wolf that was the head of the pack was a solo wolf in essence, one who did not lead by the heart. had he ever? had brandon simply been misguided the entire time?

he felt a fool for even speaking about such a thing to cassana, following what had just happened to her: but something always happened to the starks. there was always something, and he believed it for one reason. consequences were lacking consistence, if they were present at all. she pleaded for him to speak to her, and brandon only felt a sense of exhaustion: what was there to say that he had not already said to her before?

had he not already been widowed once, and it seemed as though the gods had blessed him.

"when you warg, or have a vision…whatever it is…." he knew it could be two separate things. sometimes they came together. and he had returned their blessing with a flaming curse, let the flames engulf the ancient faces on the tree. there was desperation in her voice, and brandon wondered if it was because she could feel what had begun in a room, leagues from here. the detachment, the moving away of ancient kin from kin.

“it’s like hearing something through water. i can hear it at times but it is faint and distorted in a way. it takes time for the voice to break through the vision. it eventually can but i’m not responsive at all. i haven't found a way to stop the vision once it's happening” she told him. often times she heard the voices of her family and friends calling out to her. but it was so far away. something that felt impossible to turn towards. sometimes the only was to the voices was to keep going through the vision. “a danger to myself i suppose if i end up outside in the snow like the time you found me. but even in my visions where i am seeing death, and monsters and battles and i feel so scared that i dont know what to do, i dont think i have ever been a danger to someone else.” there was little idea of what she was starting or how her words were going to impact everything that was already happening.

maybe a part of her felt like something had shifted when she was gone, just simply with the way brandon was acting. maybe when exhaustion and fear werent ruling her mind she would see there was hints at this in her dreams. that she saw the death again of her fellow greenseer again. she would understand why brandon was asking her these questions. pieces would make sense in time. but right now there was no time to think of any of that. her hands pulled his cloak tighter around her as she started to feel the adrenaline wear off. the reality of everything trying to sink into her as she pushed it off again and again.

“why….why are you asking me about my vision right now?” she said. her voice felt soft, a tremble wavered within it. she never had that before. she hated hearing how it sounded. but it was getting harder to keep the act that she was feeling strong, a stark afraid of nothing. not that she was just a young girl in a wedding dress she never wanted to wear, trembling in a cave.

"Care for a go?" The wooden swords in Aleksander's hand clacked together as he juggled them from one into the other. "The courtyard is nearly empty, never a better time for a practice round than now." The surrounding paths were merely lit by flickering torches, the night calm and warm.

but right now she could be her normal self with her friend. that's what she wanted. cass walked up and took the extra sword from him. "I'll try to go easy on you." she teased him.

walking over to take her spot across from him, she took in a deep breath. "the days are too hot here but i must say i enjoy the nights. it is just cool enough to be enjoyable. but i cant say i will be sad to leave when we can finally go. everyone here is far too stuffy for my liking."

“It takes time to adjust to the quiet after the war,” he murmured. It was a strange statement, but it was the truth. Adam cherished the time of tranquility and the end of conflict, but as a soldier, he was so used to slipping into his necessary role… It usually took some time to return to normal. Or perhaps war was normal and the effort, the adjustment came to the rarity that was the peaceful periods.

He was not going to lie to Cass, though. He was not going to hide. Owen knew. She would know too.

Attached to his belt he usually carried a dagger and next to it was a small leather satchel. He untied it and passed it to his sister, silently indicating with a head motion for her to open it. Inside she was going to find the dark powder, the charcoal-looking and iridescent substance that had helped them in winning the war against the Umbers.

"ah, yes the quiet after war. it's been so quiet." cass remarked, her words not hiding her sarcasm as she took a sip her drink before refilling her glass. maybe that was harsh but nothing seemed to be quiet right now. it just was one thing after another after another. but she didn't want to take out her frustration on adam. he deserved none of it, nor did any of them.

something was different about adam. cass had observed his behavior since she had gotten back and she saw subtle shift in him. she'd seen him return home from other battles. seen how it took him time to sink back into the normal routine of day to day life. the two of them would do it together. often helping each other settle back in when things were so hectic. but there was something different now. something she couldn't explain. part of her wondered if it was her own fault. maybe she wasn't paying enough attention to him. or maybe too wrapped up in her own mind to really wonder.

taking the small bag from her brother, cass hesitated before opening it, her curiosity piqued. as she peered inside, recognition dawned slowly as she had only heard of it and never seen. "is this the powder everyone's been talking about? the ones from the mines?" she asked, studying the contents with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. "and why do you have so much of it?" she inquired, her tone trying not to sound too suspicious

his own cloak furs remained around the smaller frame of the stark princess, doing well to hide the wedding gown which she had no doubt been forced to put on as she was prepared to be wed beneath the god's tree. the sight of the burning red leaves remained an image that was seared into the memory of brandon karstark: his own arms crossed over his torso as they remained sat within the cave, the crackling of a fire between them. it had been his intention to hunt down the princess cassana from the grasp of the traitors; with the sole intention of asking her a question.

"i'm fine." he responded to her question, the second time it had been asked. he knew she could tell he was lying. he was not fine, but he did not want to speak on it yet. to address it, and force it back into reality. here in this cave, he could forget; forget all of it. put it to rest.

it had been at the very front of his mind, the highest of priorities - and now, it appeared as though the words were caught at the back of his throat. because once he asked the question, the rest would need be told: and the words were so unbelievable, words that sounded like madness in itself; pushing it into the fruition of reality. a reality he was all too aware existed, by the way he had to ignore some ancient urge within himself to torch winterfell and to drive a dagger through the king of winter, once, twice, three times, four times. he had wanted to hurt him, and that startling realisation had meant brandon karstark needed to distance himself from him. from them all. and find the only one who would understand.

"just tired." he had burned the tree. how could they act as though that had not happened? how could he ask her to explain what state she got into with such intense moments of visions? how could he explain that his wife had been murdered by a trusted member of prince adam stark's legion?

because the importance of clearing her name, was imperative to him. the most pressing priority, as there was no bringing her back and allowing her to draw breath - let her rest be peaceful, at least. it were obvious he wanted to say something, and it was unlike brandon karstark to dance around the subject, to hesitate and find himself in long stretches of silence. perhaps she was grateful for the moments of silence. the fire was not a good idea, not in the dead of night; if they did not get the attention of some outlaws, they could get the attention of some wild beasts. wolves, looking for prey.

and soot.

soot from the weirwood tree.

the weirwood tree… was it still aflame? was the face of the gods still watching them through its charred visage? brandon's arrow had struck true, there was no doubt about that. but why? was there no alternative way to save her? or perhaps there was none. and if there was none was it alright to be happy she was saved? was it selfish? was it bad she was grateful he did it if there was no other way? it had saved her from the wedding night. she had called out to the gods for help and something happened.

cass stole a glance at brandon, her friend, her family, and now her savior. they had known each other for too long, spent too many moments together to not sense when something troubled the other. despite his assurances of being fine, she could feel his unrest. there was a stubbornness in his silence, a reluctance to share. it seemed that if she wanted answers, brandon would have to open up himself.

"you can rest if you need. i can take watch for a time." she offered, her heart urging her to reach out to him, to implore him to speak with her. sitting in this silence was going to drive her crazy. there were days of silence just listening to the sounds of the war camp outside. her wrists rubbed raw from the ropes. as she just…waited. and waited. and waited. not knowing what was worse, being alone in her fear. or knowing that if someone came to where she was being held it was only going to bring pain.

speak to me, brandon. please, for the gods' sake, say something

and then finally he broke the silence. it wasn't what she expected, but at this point, she would take anything. In silence, she stood from her seat and moved to sit next to him. perhaps there was a little sense of worry in the pit of her stomach of what he was going to ask. but she took in a deep breath and pulled his cloak further around her. it steadied her. he did, he always had. "ask me anything, brandon. there's something on your mind, i've seen it since we got to the cave. please." she implored, her words tinged with desperation.

please talk to me. please tell me what is on your mind. please.

The noise followed him outside as he left the great hall at Greywater. A bit of fresh air was a necessity at this point, some quiet to soothe his ears from the ruckus of the feast. Cicadas chirped in the castle's surroundings, a buzz in the woods from a world of animals awakening in the dead of night.

when she was invited to the celebration at greywater watch, the youngest stark was so excited to go. she wished to celebrate her friends new home, his new placement and show others that some of the karstarks and starks had not changed. that there was still a bond. yet, she only was disappointing herself as she stood outside in the courtyard.

what a disappointment you are being again cassana.

cass dug out one of her arrows from the target, sighing that she had been discovered much faster than she anticipated. she thought at least she could get away with being gone for a good hour or so before aleks might notice. she didn’t wish to bother him during the night of one of the celebrations he was throwing. cass tossed the arrow back into her quiver before finally looking over towards her friend.

“i do…i do want to come back. but i am just afraid i might spoil the mood. i am finding myself being… i dont know, testy tonight? i didn’t want to ruin anything.” truth being she was on edge. she wasnt sure what had set her off tonight. but something triggered a memory. something brought her back. she wanted to go back inside for her friend. but what if she just made things worse? “i’m sorry aleks.” she sighed, running her hands through her hair to push it out of her face. even part of her was unsure what she apologizing for? leaving the party? being not herself lately? or something deeper. she didn’t know.