Ours is the Fury | Game of Thrones OC

41

"Can I interest you in anymore?" Lord Bolton questioned and I shook my head quietly, I was sat to his left while a dark haired man sat to his right, his heir, his son.

A servant had been waiting patiently with more food but a simply flick of his hand, dangerously close to the poor woman's face, sent her flying away.

There was a seat beside the younger Bolton, it was empty although it looked as if it should be filled, plates and cutlery at the ready.

"Are we missing somebody?" I asked curiously, looking at the empty seat, Lord Bolton fell silent and stared at the place then at his son who chuckled.

"Not at all" He grinned sadistically and I pursed my lips, looking at the woman to my left, she was plump with a round but smiling face, but she too was silent.

"How long have you been Warden of the North?" I asked carefully, placing my hands on my lap and making eye contact with Lord Bolton who set his jaw.

"three years" He grumbled, I frowned and tried to remember how long I had been away from home. It seems around the time I disappeared, Winterfell was taken.

"Where are the Starks?" I wondered innocently, watching a glance between the two Boltons, not missing anything.

"The Ironborns killed the younger of the boys" Roose Bolton said plainly and I snapped my head up in shock, Theon was an Ironborn, what had happened here?

"How do you mean?" I pressed, "What of the daughters?". I knew Sansa was in Kings Landing with my mother but Arya could be anywhere, perhaps even on her way here.

"In the wind" The son smirked, "Or dead"

A shiver ran through me, what would become of the North? Such a powerful part of the kingdom in the hands of an equally evil family? I couldn't quite put my finger on it but there was something about the Boltons but the Greyjoys? They murdered Bran and Rickon? I was filled with rage but I nodded along calmly.

"How sad" I said quietly and the two men shared another look and I ground my teeth to avoid spitting something rude or unkind to either of them.

When the table was cleared and the last glasses of wine finished, I couldn't wait to be freed from the torment that was the entire evening. The conversation was so painfully dry that I could blow out a deep breath and everything would fly away.

"I think I shall retire now" I stood and without even seeing if they did too, I left the room albeit closely followed by a guard who obviously stopped me when I tried to go in a different direction.

"Your rooms are this way, your grace" He grunted, spitting the formality at me but also grabbing my arm quite roughly but I pulled away easily, he curled his lip in frustration.

"I want to pray in the godswood, is that alright?" I scowled, "Besides, it is simply one room not multiple"

"Fine, but not for long" He agreed then followed until the entrance where he knew I was unable to leave any other way. I could imagine the grumbling thoughts running around in his head, cursing his job and me and everyone, an unpleasant thought.

It was terribly dark but the godswood was quiet and peaceful, just what I was looking for.

My fingers trailed the bark on the trees as I passed, the smell of the nature filling my cold nose, the breath coming out in steam.

My footsteps crunched into the fresh snow, I pulled my thick cloak tighter around me, still unable to don the furs of the North when I was so clearly a Southern woman.

As I neared the centre, a lump formed in my throat, where the weirwood tree sat waiting amongst the other trees.

It's white bark seemed to match the snow surrounding it while the blood red leaves stood out so beautifully. It was such a wonderful tree that it's beauty just befuddled me.