#broken.start

         the sky is pitch, scattered with stars. it's late in the evening, but the castle remains well alive, guards wary, nervous and angry at their stations, the scullery still busy as every night, and somewhere in a tower, the king's council is huddled around a table speaking of war and omens. but most of winterfell's many guests have taken to their chambers, leaving an empty and anxious quiet to settle, across the castle, soft and smothering as fresh snow. she shouldn't be out, knows better than to be, but the upheaval has stirred up a storm within her ; angry, anxious, and hopeful in turns, terrified and yet curious more than anything. a heavy heart, a mind weighed down, not the sort of thing to bring with her to the bedchamber. so instead, jeyne walks the castle walls, half-hidden in shadow and imagines herself a lion, prowling, looking out into the darkness as if through bars of a cage.

         it sounds better than the truth, anyway. a lion wouldn’t be hiding out in the cold, too fearful, to restless to retreat to its den. lost in thought, in self-indulgent misery and scheming, she fails to notice another’s presence, until a noise startles her from her reverie. she jumps — a genuine spasm of fear accompanied by a rather undignified yelp — and is immediately, crushingly embarrassed.

Location: Winterfell Long Hall Open: Everyone

While most had filed out of the long hall hours ago, Eivor still sat with a mug of mead in hand. A large fire raged on in front of his chair, his feet propped close to it. His dark blue hues flickering in the light of the burning wood. Mind racing over the events of the past few days. He could not put his finger on one possible suspect for what had happened. There was always a reason to start a war. Especially if one looked hard enough. His mind crawled over old memories of blood soaked fields and the screams of dying men. Gods, he did not want to return to war times. These young ones did not understand the damage those times could cause. Not only to those lost but those left behind. Eivor would, of course, fight for his King and Queen when called on but he was tired. 

Perhaps peace had simply become more comfortable. 

Shaking his head, Eivor lifted his cup of mead to his lips and took a long drink from the edge of the mug. While the mead of Winterfell was better than most, nothing compared to what they brewed on the Ice Coast. That drink made boys into men. He had expected to spent some time in Winterfell on this trip but it seemed now that he would be longing for home before getting back to it. Not that it really bothered him too much. If something were to happen here, Eivor wanted to be on stand by to protect the Northern figure heads. 

Thought withdrew and Eivor came back into the moment as the door behind him opened slowly and let a gust of cool air into the long hall. He turned to see who might be coming to join him for a drink. Holding up the jug of mead that sat at his feet, Eivor gave the other a smile. “I have more than enough for two.” He offered shaking the jug just a bit as a greeting. 

joanna rose before the sun that morning , her mind still lingering on the event of edric’s coronation. how could it not ? someone had made an attempt on her brother’s life in their own home. winterfell was the place for starks - the place to keep the pack safe. it was the south was dangerous, where the good lords & ladies would welcome you to their home one moment & thrust a dagger through your heart the next. 

the same good lords & ladies that now resided within these halls, plotting her family’s downfall behind closed doors. 

it was why she found herself in the training yard now, swinging her sword at the practice dummies. a vain attempt at pulling her thoughts away from the horrible events of last night & to focus. on what, she wasn’t sure. that would come later. now, she whirled around the yard, her moves careful and deliberate. it was a dance , almost. instead of a lord or lady in her arms it was her steel. instead of embroidered slippers and a ballroom, there were her leather boots, and the clouds of grey dust that billowed in the sky whenever she leapt or knicked.  

joanna spun around, bringing her blade atop the head of a training dummy. “ sorry old fellow. it was nothing personal. but in my defense you were in my way. ” joanna laughed and pried her sword out of the splintered wood. beneath a cloud of dark curls, she saw that someone was watching her.  “care to join me ? i’d love some more practice.” joanna grinned at her audience of one. “ or are you intent on simply watching? ”

                    ˙ ˖ ˙ ˖   caeryn stood leaning against cool stone that kept him from completely tumbling over the balcony, head resting on a propped up elbow. he was  ( as always )  ruminating, lost in thought. how easy it was to get lost in your own tumultuous  &&  disorienting thoughts. how easy it was to be a slave to your own thoughts. caeryn spent his entire life doing so  &&  as easy as it was for him to get lost, it was almost just as easy to pull himself out   ━━   to snap back to reality. he heard the sound footsteps approaching in the near distance  &&  tore his gaze from the clear skies to look at the source of the sound. 

Dusk was settling over Winterfell. The end of another day marked time for prayer, but in Westeros, there were few places where Serenei could do so in peace. In the Eyrie, she had taken to doing so at the peak of The Maiden’s Tower, overlooking The Vale as the sun set over it. A beautiful spot, if only for the view. In Winterfell, there were few such places that felt right. Perhaps it was the cold - it reminded her too much of The Great Other. 

The Glass Gardens were not too bad, at least, not compared to the rest of the keep. At least it was warm, and the scent of soil made it feel like a place of life in comparison to the dead, icy Northern weather. Serenei settled beside a beautiful bed of blossoming flowers, knelt upon the ground, and begun her prayer. 

She was halfway through her murmured reverence when a noise alerted her to the presence of another. Without looking behind her, she straightened her back, moving so she was sitting upon her heels, and called out to the newcomer. 

“You are welcome to join me in prayer, if you wish to. I would be glad of the company.” Finally, she turned her head, surveying the other curiously. 

truth be told, he was tired of the festivities all together, and would much rather return to his rooms. there were a few new volumes he’d managed swindle from the stark family’s maester, and roran could think of nothing better than to escape the crowds gathered and lose himself in those pages. in fact, the moment he saw an opportunity to leave, he quickly snuck out, whispering an excuse. 

once roran stood outside in the cold weather of the north, an unfortunate realisation dawned on him. he had no idea where to go. normally he was quite good at navigating his surroundings, but with the wine, nothing was as clear as it should. turning around, the lord suddenly realised he was not alone, and almost without thought, an excuse slipped from his mouth. “ah,” he started. “just getting some fresh air. the north certainly knows how to throw a feast.”