ᵃᵐᵒᶰᵍ ᵍᶦᵃᶰᵗˢ⋅

          it hadn’t been a choice that particularly pleased the young lady, coming to winterfell as eyes shot daggers at her. and it wasn’t like she could hide with her tell-tale hair and loud mouth. it had been quiet, no one had thrown anything at her yet and the festivities were intriguing to her, at least until the assassinations. the thuds of lifeless bodies hitting the floor triggered something in her, her hand going to her back, though nothing was on it. her mother’s voice rang in her head, ‘it’s not ladylike to carry a bow everywhere.’ even in death, her mother made her feel small.

          she had made her retreat quickly, eyes still boring holes into the back of her head, her own keeping straight ahead. she couldn’t be around these people anymore, she had had enough. she wished her brother had been able to come along, he would’ve made the trip more interesting, less lonely. she prayed quietly for his safety and his health, secretly adding that he would be at the next stark coronation in her stead.

          dismissing her men, she told them to assist the starks in any way they could while she had some time alone, her bow at her back ( finally ). it had been a peaceful walk, at least until she got to the godswood and an unfortunately familiar voice rang out as she approached. every muscle in her body tightened for a split second before she let out a soft sigh.

          “ you have ruined many things for me, ” she muttered under her breath before slowly approaching the lady. “ my apologies, m’lady, i was only seeking solitude and had not been paying attention to where i had wandered. ” 

          her dark eyes watched the form of the other woman carefully, keeping her distance. she knew the godswood was sacred, and she genuinely hadn’t wished to disturb the serenity of such a place, but she couldn’t drag herself away from the umber woman.

          her knuckles turned white, gripping the handle of her beloved sword as the other woman’s voice carried to her ears. that particular voice was one that lady rose knew. amelira tully. lady of the crossing. and someone that the older umber woman held no love for.

          it was with a slow turn of her head that the northerner rested her gaze upon the fiery haired woman. if being born into nobility had taught her anything ― it was how to pretend. feigning interest in the rabble that came out of some stuffy southron lords mouth as to not offend. acting as though sewing wasn’t a tedious task so the septa wouldn’t lecture. yes, rosamund umber was quite good at pretending. but it was particularly exhausting to maintain her look of impassiveness and not outright glare at the other woman.

          the tullys would remain traitors in her eyes, after all. and this particular tully was truly in the wrong place.

          “ yes, that is quite clear to me, lady tully. ” her voice was not outright unkind. but there was an edge to it. faint, but ever so much there.

          clutching the sheath of her sword ― hoarfrost ― lady rose slowly pushed herself back onto her feet until she was standing at full height. she was significantly shorter than many of her house, but tall enough to easily meet the eyes of a man of average height. more often than not this made her taller than most women she had come across. it was said that the umbers were the descendants of giants― her own father nearly seven feet tall just like his father before him. and lady rose was all too happy to use this to her advantage when she had the chance.

          it was not too long ago that she thought herself so keenly ready to begin the trek that would return her to last hearth. she missed her home― a fortress built of wood and stone― a great deal. although she had enjoyed most of the tournament, she still longed for the familiar woods and mountainsides she had played in as a child. and lady rose truly wished not to leave her cousins in her stead for too long. least they get any unsavory ideas. they had accepted her rule well enough. after all, her father had made it quite clear after the death of her dear little brother that she would be the one to inherit when he broke her betrothal so that she would remain in last hearth. they all had plenty of time to adjust to the idea before her father was lost to them as well. still, she worried from time to time. 

          but it looked like she wouldn’t be returning quite yet. instead, she would remain in winterfell for a time. there was a lot to be said about umbers. their unwavering loyalty to house stark was often at the top of the list. there was little that her father wouldn’t do for elias. such dedication had been instilled in her and her men as well. and so she remained. with the deaths at the tourney, she would offer the aid of house umber to king calder. whatever his will may be, they would see it done.

          however, in this moment, she found herself in the godswood. it felt like the right place to be. sitting in front of the weirwood tree with her sword laying alongside her. her own dress matching the color of the leaves above her and scattered around her feet. rose did not pray often, but she always found peace in the godswood and hoped that today would be no different. she could use an ounce of it before she dared to face any of the lords and ladies among winterfell. the snap of a twig in the distance did not pull her gaze from the face of the tree. she merely called out as the footsteps of another grew closer.