THE SUN OF WINTER*

Torrhen’s response sounded an awful lot like an excuse of sorts, when the two of them could have so easily agreed on what was the loyalty that bound House Umber and House Karstark together. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but the unity of our houses has existed long enough for both of us to be able to grasp what the loyalty to the other entails and what it does not”. Meera was not entirely sure if his little tale of a husband and wife was supposed to be a slight to her in some way. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke because it did feel like that. It felt like he was taking her for a fool that would cry for his love and his undivided devotion to her bed and her bed alone. He thought himself to me more desirable than he truly was, and her to be more needed of a man’s affection than she could ever be. “Then that woman was a fool, for what she truly wished was fidelity, not loyalty” she concluded.

When we wed you will be apart of that house–and house Umber an extension of it. The lady gave a nod as those words left her betrothed’s lips. That was the only thing she wished to hear. After all, they were indeed on the same page when it came to matters of their loyalty once they were wed. “Very well. That is all I wanted to know” the spoke, slightly more pleased with this particular turn in their conversation. “Indeed they are” the Umber lady agreed, satisfied with the reply Lord Karstark had given.

He could read the disappointment on her face. Her annoyance at the example he gave and the expectations they had for one another. In his eyes love and loyalty often coincided. The only woman that had ever been loyal to him also loved him. To an extent Torrhen believed that even the loyalty held by his own blood had the potential to run dry. The ambitions of his siblings almost as great as his own. The loyalty he held for the allied houses was strong, but had potential to bend and break as tensions rose. In the end all Torrhen cared about was himself. In a world such as their’s it was important to remember that. Wealth and titles came with privilege but also provided danger and suspicion. The servants beneath his roof were held to high expectations but they never held the paranoia of their spouse poisoning their cup, or a brother aiming his knife at their bare backs. 

“Perhaps she was a fool. A fool for marrying into the wrong house. I’d like to believe if she married a Stark loyalist we’d all be done for.” He began. Though the desire to discuss his wife was not ideal for Torrhen. His dark gaze on the other, studying the manner in which she spoke. “Do you worry I’ll betray you, Meera?” He questioned. “Do you think this will fall apart like ashes through your grasp?”

Torrhen

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Meera

Lyanna

Desmond

Altheda

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None!

Ragna

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Andrik

Julia

Myrcella

Jana

Menta

Na’lia

Altheda

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None!

Rodrik

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Menta

Na’lia

Altheda

Eudora

Myrcella 

Aidan

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           ♔

                              Such a public setting meant that Lyanna had to be careful not to cause a scene, it was a rational thought which attempted to staunch the hatred pulsating through ever nerve in her body. The gown which she wore felt tighter, if that were at all possible, since she favoured a slim fit, her eyes threatened to spark with rage and her fingers twitched to attack. But she would never forget herself, her poised mask would be ever present even in the most challenging of circumstances. One day she would see Torrhen Karstark’s knees crack as he bowed down to her.  ❝  I just think my lord father expect more consideration than he was given. But it is of little consequence now, ❞  she smiled, deciding that she would challenge him no more on his betrothal. ❝  I hope that you will be happy, Lord Karstark. ❞  It was the truth, she wanted him to be happy, inexplicably so -  it hurt more when it was taken away ! 

                             ❝ I am not so easily swept away, my lord. Many suitors come calling. Yet, it would seem that my beloved father is concerned over whom I should marry, so he is taking his time, ❞  Lyanna explained, humming as she move across slightly to inspect the sweet pastries being sold. If he meant to imply that she was to be shelved like an unwanted maiden, she did not take the bait. In truth, Larence Manderly had little say in whom his youngest daughter would marry - for she had her own desires and they would not be swayed. In a sweeter would she would’ve committed herself to Lord Bolton. A Stark crown was the only title she would savour, the only marriage she would accept. 

It took what little self control he had not to scoff at her statement. Torrhen expected many things, but none were ever given to him. His former father in law was a nuisance. A man Torrhen tolerated only by the command of his father. Who thought he would have White Harbor if his eldest son married lord Manderly’s eldest daughter. Perhaps it was a blessing that Medrick Karstark fell onto his deathbed before such a marriage existed. For he’d be disappointed to know his son had neither White Harbor or an heir. And the lack of both those elements left Torrhen with little care for the Lord of White Harbor or his family. A Stark loyalist he learned, was a waste of time. 

“Or the suitor most desired has yet to ask for your hand.” If Torrhen had learned anything from the debacle of marriage it was that duty always overtook desire. And rarely did what someone desire matter in the grand scheme of things. He heard rumors of her and lord Bolton, the mere thought forcing Torrhen’s skin to crawl. Perhaps it was his offer she waited for. Or another. One that had a crown waiting for him the moment his father keeled over on his throne. “Your sister would have loved that luxury I’m sure. The closest she could get to a Stark was a Karstark.”

“That Lord Karstark, is because they are common men. Your answer to my request has provided me plenty of information towards what you think. You are not the average Lord who wants more than he is destined to have. You do not have complete delusions of grandeur but you imagine the same in the mind of a realist; a tactician; a strategist who knows the value of picking the right allies who are sympathetic or have reason to think the same as you and know of the plight faced by all. I could be wrong but I seldom if ever am. Which brings me to why you are here–” Eudora breaths with a shrug as she wraps her delicate fingers around the handle of a pitcher pouring him a drink. What it is he would have to taste it and see if it’s grog or mead or ale or another sort of drink other then wine or perhaps it is just simply that. Wine. Maybe laced with something but he would have to take that chance. Lord Karstark has absolutely no reason to distrust her or trust her really beyond the fact she is a strong ally of his future wife and a woman whose reputation proceeds her as a brilliantly formidable woman one dares not to mess with lightly.

“Lets not play the game of telling each other what one already knows but what one wants. What would an alliance bring you were we to enter into an agreement- to terms and such? For what I can give you what would supporting your cause do for me. There is very little I want for so the words and what you offer next should be chosen wisely”

He wasn’t sure what earned him the compliments spewing from her lips. Either she admired him as much as she claimed to, or she was trying to stroke his delicate ego. Though nothing she said was wrong, it puzzled him as to how quickly she had learned what kind of man he was. In truth he did not know what brought him to the southern isle. The south could provide little for the north, as their blood was not fashioned to handle the brutal winds and ice that plagued his homeland. Though other northern houses had spread their influence south and he felt as if he were the only one who hadn’t tempted the thought. Perhaps that was his pride, or just the desire of his father who wanted little to do with anyone who wasn’t northern. One of the few houses that didn’t intermarry with other kingdoms or attend events held by other kings. Medrick once boasted that a northmen’s gravest mistake was venturing south. And Torrhen would not be made a northern fool like so many lords of the past. 

She might have allowed herself a laugh had she been in more familiar company. To think that any of them might escape the cold seemed like a lighthearted joke. The cold had never much bothered her and it didn’t seem as if anything could bother Torrhen… except, maybe, her presence. The distinction between meaning and distraction seemed fuzzy to her now. Would he think her visit a waste of his time and his castle’s resources when the message might easier be delivered by raven? She hoped not. It seemed not only foolish to linger without purpose at Karhold, but perhaps even dangerous.

Her journey may not have seemed wise to all concerned members of her house, but they all knew where she was, knew how long her journey would take, how often to expect word from her while she was away. She had been accompanied by a small but proficient escort. Altheda knew she had nothing to fear, yet couldn’t shake the nagging thought in the back of her mind that it might be best to keep an exit strategy in place at all times.

“My lord, I was thinking perhaps we could enjoy a walk around the grounds?” She tried to gauge the lord’s response, to see if perhaps she was pushing her good fortune too far. “It’s not often I am fortunate enough to journey this far east and it’s been years since I’ve enjoyed it fully. Do you mind?” 

It wasn’t as if politics bored him, in fact they had quite the opposite effect. But the lord often found it strenuous to discuss his beliefs with anyone who favored the wolves on the throne. Blind loyalty to what always has been around and never changed. Not that he found himself a worthy candidate for such a position. Perhaps a hand to the king, but never selfless enough to do the actual job. There was also something about the word king that sent even the most rational men into a frenzy. He couldn’t imagine why house Cerwyn would send a daughter to discuss those very matters with a man who would only dismiss any mention of Stark loyalty. 

A frown plagued his lips at the mention of her request. And he found it difficult not to show the irritation in his eyes. Why anyone would want to walk around in the cold and snow was beyond him. Even as a true northern man, Torrhen often preferred the warmth of his castle to the northern winds. Though the view of the grey cliffs and the bay of seals often left him breathless, it was just as beautiful from the view of a window. 

“If you insist, my lady.” Torrhen’s tone cold despite the grin against his lips. An act could only go so far, though he knew better than to let one hitch ruin what he wanted. If he didn’t come out of their meeting today leaving the Cerwyn girl puzzled with where her loyalties lied, then he failed at what he desired to achieve. “Though the winds are harsher here coming off the bay, I wouldn’t recommend we spend too long out in the elements. Lest you wish to return home with frost covered cheeks,”

HONESTY HOUR(ACCEPTING)

It’s something he’d never admit, perhaps even to himself. But his blind loyalty for what he cannot have most. She’s everything, yet nothing since she can never properly be his. He shouldn’t stick by her for nearly two decades, yet he does. Knowing very well nothing will come of it. Their paths constantly parallel never to meet. He wishes he had the gull to let her go but he doesn’t. He’s selfish, and refuses to be devoid of a life without her in it. It’s cost him heirs, and possibly any common sense. But his desire for her runs deeper than any semblance of power. Even if he’s accepted all of this though--he still doesn’t like it.

“Absolutely nothing. What a stupid question to ask.”

HONESTY HOUR(ACCEPTING)

He rarely does. A life spent under the cruel and unpredictable wrath of his father taught the lord to push away fear. His entire childhood was unsafe. Filled with unpredictability and anger. One wrong look or statement left a firm fist to the cheek. His mother twisting words around until his head spun, and suddenly every cruel word she said was because it was his fault. There were times he would hide beneath the mattress in his chambers and cover his ears, and close his eyes. He couldn’t see or hear the evil around him if he blocked it out entirely. But that life was worlds away. Now few dared to do what his father had done before him. He knew he was safe in his castle, surrounding by the grey cliffs, and the bay of seals often shielded with ice. If intruders lived through the natural shields, then they would face his own wrath. The mountains were more forgiving. 

“I haven’t felt such a way in years.”

@torrhenxkarstark

The Karstarks may boast to be the suns of winter, but Altheda felt a distinct chill in Karhold, even under her layered traveling cloaks. Even as she tried to ignore it, she knew it had more to do with the chilling rumors and isolating sense that she did not belong here than the drifting snow. A northern tour was not complete without a visit to all noble houses and Altheda was determined to push onwards, forwards, and to the east. It was, in her mind, the right (and thus the only) thing to do.

Perhaps she was also nervous to be meeting with the lord of the house, rather than a lord of the house. She had met with many brothers, sisters, daughters, and sons in her travels, but had yet to establish an appointment with any house’s true leader. Maybe it was unwise to start with one who had the reputation that Lord Karstark had earned. Alas, it was too late now.

“Lord Karstark of Karhold,” Altheda offered, head bowed as she lowered in a shallow cursty. “Thank you for your hospitality and setting aside the time to meet with me. I know you must be quite busy.”

It surprised him when he learned news of house Cerwyn desiring to meet with him. Though the surprise quickly turned to disappointment when he realized it would not be the head of house himself. It was difficult to gauge the opinions of a lord when he was not present. Though it didn’t completely extinguish his curiosity as to why the house would approach Karhold in the first place. His distaste for their king was evident, and it wasn’t as if he favored the houses that continued to remain ignorant while their kingdom crumbled around them. Even if Harald Stark could turn things around, Torrhen had yet to see any real change in the kingdom, which only left him discontent. 

He decided rather than to dismiss the Cerwyn lady he would welcome her in. There were other ways to strike an alliance. Torrhen despite having his father’s temper, was blessed with his mother’s silver tongue. If he wanted to convince a man or woman of something, he would have to do it just as his late mother had. With empty promises and tempting offers, instead of foul statements of truth. Though he wondered if her interest would pique if she knew they were all slowly going to starve before winter’s end.

“Lady Altheda.” He greeted as she approached. Mimicking her bow as she stood before him. Bearing locks of honey that reminded him of ghosts of the past. “We’re busy as one can be with winter approaching. But I never refuse visitors that come with meaning instead of distraction.” He held an arm out toward the doors leading inside the castle. “If you’d like to escape the cold, we can discuss matters more privately within the castle.”

Just merely sitting and speaking with Torrhen now, as little meaning came from their conversation or not, it wasn’t hard to see why people didn’t take kindly to the Lord. His lackluster interest in anything other than politics or weather was quite dismal, though there was not much else to speak of between the two, nor was there much they had in common other than being Lords of a noble house. The similarities, quite frankly, stopped there. Much of his patience was being used on Torrhen now, on this conversation and over the obvious dissatisfaction of the wine he’d presented him. Not that he could truly be offended, the wine was merely a gift, and nothing he nor his people had made. “Yes…well such a theory was proven years and years ago was it not? The Dornish are not bred for such a place, the North sucks the life from their bones and the sun from within their skin.” The Lord shrugged over his glass of wine, pressing it to his lips in such a carefree manor it was hard to realize he had even spoken of his mother’s untimely death. 

Such an act was to be considered selfish, an act against the gods, his maester had muttered under his breath just minutes before they laid her body to rest. Desmond could not help the slight snort that escaped between his parted lips at the mention of Gilliane. Of course the Lord would bring up the lady he was constantly in bed with. It seemed he could not get the Bolton lady off his mind, which was exactly what worried Desmond in such a match with his aunt. This married he wished to partake in with Meera…it would be a mistake, he simply knew it would be. “Well, what a strange mix that must be…an Iron Born and a Northener’s child. I never really paid much attention to others religions, however.” Other religions were of little importance. They were not needed when forming alliances with others, therefore he had not paid much attention to them. “Umber, Stark…the name still leaves a rather foul taste on he tongue. Harald…it sounds like an old, withering man’s name. Though perhaps I still have the imagine of my father ingrained within me.”  

His house had rarely ventured south when it came to marriages or affairs. He recalled Medrick once stating his great grandmother was a Bracken. One of the youngest daughters whose father wanted ties to the north. They were close enough that hadn’t felt like a true southerner who spewed tales the seven and smelled of roses or gold. But anything south of the north was still south. He imagined Medrick did not like his grandmother much, a man who swore he wouldn’t taint his house with anymore southern blood. Demanding his son that all his siblings marry a northerner just as he did. Though that would prove difficult--it wasn’t as if any of them were in a rush anymore to be wed. Maybe he would spite the old fool and find his little brother a Dornish viper. Despite the other’s claims Torrhen had a slight curiosity when it came to talk of the sun. How different could two houses be with the same sigil. Each under suns of winter and summer. It would be a curious theory to test, even if the poor girl ended up withered in winter’s grasp. 

“It could be useful. I’ve yet to see Greyjoy sails in the Bay of Seals, so they’ve left me alone. But I do not know what contact she has with House Harlaw, I’ve never bothered to ask.” Something he should have asked. With the impending winter any ally that wasn’t starving or broke was still an ally. “I think of mad men when I hear the name Medrick. My sons will never bear it, no matter the expectation of others. A name is a name until it is ruined. And your father and mine weren’t very different breeds.” He raised the glass to his lips once more, growing better at ignoring the sweet taste of the wine. It was rare to speak of his father, though he liked to think he could in front of an ally. Even if Desmond Umber looked at him as if he were a cancer. It was smart to never put full trust in anyone. For their true opinions could easily come out at the least valuable time. 

“But what other issues have troubled you, Desmond? I trust Last Hearth has been in one piece despite all the chaos happening around us?”

        ♔

May the Seven Gods cast her down, how she wanted to ruin Torrhen Karstark! It was a crippling need to strike him down, a desire that took overtook every nerve ending within her body. A scowl threatened to slip from her controlled expresion. If there was ever a thought which could derail her outwardly charming nature, it was anything which revolved around Torrhen and her sister. Fingers curled around the oyster shell, feeling the way it bit into her skin as she cast a smile towards the malevolent lord. “Time can fade many things, my lord. I do not believe that one can ever truly forget,” she softened her voice for his benefit, and for those who had turned their head to listen. 

“It would have been a courtesy, if nothing else. My sister may be gone, but our houses were once joined and my father was dismayed to hear that you had not shared in the news. He thought you another son,” the words burnt her tongue, a putrid taste of horror and disgust. The Karstark could show his true nature, it only reaffirmed the idea that he had some part in her sister’s death. Her father and brothers may be content to simply dislike him, but she would always loathe him. “Still, I wish you well. Losing one’s partner sounds a terrible fate, I hope you will be happy with your new life.” The lies rolled off her tongue like silk and honey, with her breath calm and her eyes dark. 

That was the issue with nobility. They assumed gaining a title also gained them the right to learn one another’s business. But it never did such a thing. Privacy was fleeting as lord, and he found himself angry at the fact. He didn’t owe lord Manderly a damn thing. It was not Torrhen’s fault his daughter was a venomous snake. When the world pit two monsters against one another only the strongest survived. He knew that well enough. Yet part of her statement resonated with him. He would never forget Jeyne. Even as the years added onto his laugh he couldn’t quite shake the sound of her laughter or the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the sea. But like most did with grief, he buried it away. Her final years with him ruining whatever good came in the beginning. 

 “I believe there was an announcement. That’s more than enough for everyone to learn of the news.” He spat. Announcements were ridiculous in themselves. He hardly cared for who married who. And as of late it seemed everyone in the north was tempted to wait until they withered away to wed. “I’ll be happy as one can be when married. It isn’t an easy thing to do. Relying on another can be tiresome. I’ve grown used to being alone, and can be liberating.” Even if he was never really alone at all. Not with his Bolton girl only miles away. “And what of you, Lyanna? I have yet to see a lord sweeping you off your feet yet.” Perhaps they were all too smart to do such a thing.