𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑎𝑒𝑑,

hallis  made  his  way  through  the  wolfswood,  the  two  companions  trailing  behind  him.  he  shushed  them  a  few  times  while  he  made  his  way  towards  the  meeting  point  he  arranged  with  gilliane.  they'd  been  sleeping  all  day,  whereas  hallis  hadn't  slept  yet.  he  was  exhausted  but  every  time  he  tried  to  close  his  eyes,  sleep  never  came  to  him. he  approached  his  sister  slowly,  as  to  not  frighten  her  but  of  course,  the  woods  betrayed  him.  "sister."  he  responded  in  the  same  tongue,  for  a  moment,  his  mind  drifts  to  their  mother.  he  hugged  gilliane  back,  a  welcomed  form  of  affection  that  he  didn't  realize  he  needed. the  warg  nodded  as  she  spoke,  the  offering  was  essential  and  he  knew  that.  he  whistled  and  sent  his  companions  to  their  posts.  he  didn't  think  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  witness  the  offering  but  they  were  excellent  at  indicating  if  someone  was  approaching  and  hallis  would  rather  not  have  anyone  interrupting  them. he  placed  his  bags  down  on  the  ground  and  leaned  against  the  nearest  tree  before  he  spoke  to  gilliane.  "have  you  been  sleeping?"  he  asked  her  in  the  same  tongue.

when:  day  one,  just  before  the  procession

who:  @parthenopaed  (  gilliane  )  !

the  lady  of  winterfell  has  not  found  herself  here  in  some  time  yet.  it  feels…  odd,  being  here.  it  feels  empty  –  has  for  a  while  now.  she  hates  to  feel  this  way,  she  really  does,  but  it  is  simply  the  truth  of  the  matter.  fingertips  brush  along  the  tips  of  various  fauna  as  she  makes  her  way  around,  feet  crunching  in  the  snow.

“i  knew  i'd  find  you  here,”  she  says  softly,  upon  seeing  a  familiar  set  of  auburn  curls  kneeled  before  the  heart  tree.  when  she  turns,  dacey  smiles  softly.  suddenly,  life  had  been  brought  back  into  the  godswood.  suddenly,  it  is  perhaps  not  so  empty  anymore.

“the  procession  begins  soon…”  dacey  moves  closer,  eventually  kneeling  beside  her  friend.  “are  you  ready?”

while most of the other houses had wisely joined the southern entourage as the crown travelled from the capital through to the north, house mallister had decided to utilize their familiarity with the seas, travelling from their castle stronghold to flint's finger in the north, before crossing the barrowlands into winterfell. it was an unnecessarily dangerous route, considering the constant threat of the ironborn at sea, but it was something that she agreed was prudent, as tempers were still high within the family whenever houses tully or frey were mentioned. as she exited the warmth of the smoking log, fur - lined cloak tucked against her body, she wondered just how she was supposed to singlehandedly keep the peace between the families, especially with all of them gathered in the north. the men had sworn to behave out of a respect for house stark and their loss, and she would hold them to their word, even if that might eventually prove to be foolish. her thoughts were not on the pride of men today, however, and her furrowed brow smoothed over at the sight of a familiar face waiting for her at the mouth of the marketplace, feet hastening as she reached out to grasp gilliane by the arm. ❝ were you waiting long ? my apologies, i had to make sure that my siblings were behaving themselves. ❞ thankfully, the topic in the inn seemed to revolve around the rather ostentatious parade. ❝ i was so sorry to hear about lord cregan ... and your own jorella ... will you accept some flowers for the crypts later ? ❞ her voice was hushed, head turned to whisper ─ she knew better than to ask if she could go down there. ❝ oh ! and your relatives were most accommodating to us. i will write to thank them, but i wanted to thank you too for arranging things so quickly. i know you must have been busy preparing for all ... this. ❞

arm is naturally held out towards the riverlander at the sight of her, and warm hold is comforting, rather than the usual gratting one – although it has been many years since they've met one another, there is still room for catelyn within the cold confines of gilliane's heart, even if the mention of her lost babe is like a sword against the hearstrings. "i would imagine you would be tired of crypts." newfound habit unfolds as she wraps her hand around the mourning locket that holds the last bit of her daughter in this earth.

"if you wish to bring them, i can not deny your condolences, not when you hold your grief in the same place as mine." these days, she does not know if she wishes to speak of her daughter or not – sometimes, she wishes to throw the loss in the face of all of those who caused it, and, others, she wants nothing more but to keep what is left of her babe only to herself. she is not afforded this choice with the reminder that rings from catelyn's lips, but catelyn has also done what one ought to never do: bury their own child. "you will have to forgive me for not being able to do the same to your boy. not yet, anyhow." she did not deny wanderlust came to bite at her sometimes, but she would only go to the riverlands if the gods deemed her purpose to be found there – and there's been no word of that in her dreams, not yet.

the cloth came down to a scattering of applause . torrhen stared. the statue towered over the winter town, pale creamy stone. too fine. too expensive. too southern. one could tell it did not belong against the grey of the wintertown, and the walls of winterfell. even though whomstever had carved it had been skilled enough. the fur cloak looked almost real enough to warm a man. the sword was handsome. the face was handsome too. that was the problem.

his grandfather had never been handsome. cregan stark had posessed a long face lined with age, weather, and stubbornness. he had looked like the north. this man looked as though he belonged in a song.

around him, a group of southeners smiled politely as he felt his mouth flatten. " it doesn't look like him. " he said to gilly, standing beside him with her children, and karlon on the other side. not taking his eyes off the stone. the statue gazed nobly towards the horizon. with a certain softness in his features, as though reminiscing, or contemplating wisdom. nothing of the sharp-tongued wolf that had demanded ravens be sent south every day during the winter. nothing of the man who had often complained that half the realm had been born fools.

the woman that occupies the seat beside her tuts loudly at the language but coryanne only laughs, low and a little exhausted ─ her amusement seems to temper the rebuke on the tongues of the others, all eager to scold and prove their worthiness to the queen of the seven kingdoms and she shoos the woman beside her to make space for the bastard girl. ( the woman, some crownlander or another, has ambition to see one of her mealy - mouthed daughters wed to baelon and coryanne has been looking for an excuse to be rid of her. ) ❝ oh, please, do not feel the need to censor yourself now, cerelle. ❞ it would be a kindness to call her lady cerelle ─ it might inspire the others to do the same, if their queen deigned to entertain the farce of having a bastard in her presence, but coryanne was not feel so magnanimous today. ❝ come sit here and whisper the word to me. leave behind your embroidery hoop, i've had enough of needles and threads for the day. ❞

the  liege  minds  their  business  weighing  it.  despite  the  …  surroundings,  the  least  caradoc  can  do  is  indulge  in  a  fine  souvenir  or  three,  resell  them  if  he  so  happens  to  tire  of  their  presence  in  his  room.  a  pause  with  the  address,  a  slow  blink  as  though  feline,  and  then  a  cut  of  a  smirk  over  his  shoulder  at  her,  lifting  the  multi-layered  necklace  in  kind  for  her  observance.  ❝   no?  what  the  devil  is  it  then?  a  melted  down  chamber  pot?   ❞   to  be  fair  to  the  lady  …  (  they  hesitate  to  name  her  westerling  even  in  their  mind,  but  well,  doc  themself  wishes  to  climb  ladders  in  name,  how  could  it  be  blamed?  )  …  cerelle,  they  offer  it  to  her.  ❝   i'm  intrigued.   ❞   and  that  might  also  be  why  they  entertain  it,  for  the  glare  of  the  seller  strengthens,  and  they  won't  be  taking  the  side  of  the  people  here  for  right  now.

❝   unless  this  is  a  spurt  of  jealousy,   since  you  want  it  for  yourself  due  to  its  clear  high  quality.   ❞   tenor  voice  drips  with  sarcasm.

promise of strong, northern ale had tempted her away from the marketplace and into the grand hall where she sat close enough to the hearth that catelyn had shed her furs, draping it over her legs to stave off the cold gust of air that blew through the hall whenever someone opened the great oak doors. she had not been listening, truly, to the stories told, more preoccupied with watching the body language of those gathered in the north to decide whether the trip would prove fruitful or disastrous, when a voice broke through her observation, drawing the eye to the girl seated nearby. ❝ ... not quite as glorious as that, my sweet. ❞ her gaze flickered up to where the northerner was boasting of the winter wolves, brow furrowing. ❝ and i doubt he was old enough to be alive when the winter wolves rode south for queen rhaenyra. tales grow in the retelling, but he is a fine storyteller for it, i suppose. ❞

the  familiar  voice  took  her  out  of  her  thoughts,  and  she  looked  away  from  the  flames  to  the  girl.  quickly  stepping,  finding  a  spot  next  to  her,  neera  turned  to  face  the  other.  it  was  nice  to  see  a  familiar  face.  "  northerners  love  to  boast  about  others'  wins  as  if  they  are  their  own.  "  pathetic.

she  stops  at  one,  fingertips  brushing  lightly  over  a  piece  of  jewelry  before  picking  it  up  to  inspect  it  further.  it's  clearly  cheaply  made  but  before  she  has  a  chance  to  simply  put  it  down  and  walk  away,  the  person  next  to  her  speaks  up.

“i'm  aware,”  she  chuckles.  “just  needed  to  get  a  better  look,  is  all.”