The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - V

ARYADNE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING on the sheepskin hearthrug. Sunlight sifted through the windows like silk ribbons. When she tried to sit up, she was reminded of Grey Wind's weight still in her lap. The wolf eagerly nuzzled her palm and his tail thumped against the floor.

"You're awake."

She blinked and stifled a yawn. Robb had an arm propped against the mantel of the fireplace, smiling down at her. He was practically glowing in the cold light of the morning. Seeing her try to sit up, he needed only to give a slight tilt of his head and Grey Wind came to heel. She immediately missed the comforting warmth and weight but stood. "I trust you slept well, my lord?"

He faltered a little and she recalled what had been said the night before. "I did," he shortly replied. Now she noticed what he was fidgeting with — a thin slip of parchment. Following her gaze to it, he cleared his throat and offered it to her. "A raven came for you." Taking it, her eyes scanned across it. With each word, the lightness in her chest vanished. "What does it say?"

"I— I am to return to King's Landing post-haste."

His arm fell to his side. He nodded slowly. "Oh. Is everything well?"

The message folded neatly in her hand and she tucked it into the pocket hanging from her belt. "Yes," she assured him. "There is to be a tournament held in your father's honour to welcome him as the Hand. I must attend to pay my respects. He will want to know how Bran is recovering, and I shall be sure to tell him. Could you possibly send to the kitchen for some breakfast and notify the staff while I pack? I will be leaving as soon as possible."

He gave her a quick bow before leaving her to gather her wits. "Certainly, Your Grace."

——————

After two weeks of travelling, Aryadne rode through the gates of the Red Keep with her entourage. Dismounting Argella, she looked around in the hope that she knew she should have given up on a long time ago. Her parents did not await her, neither did her siblings. But the castle steps were not completely empty. Three people awaited her, a man and two girls.

She recognised the man's brown, pin-straight hair and broad stature immediately. He bowed deeply. "Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust the city has greeted you warmly?" she enquired, relieved to see some of the North in this place. Only minutes back and she longed for the chill of Winterfell.

His bearded jaw clenched a little but he smiled for her comfort. "It has certainly been welcoming, Your Grace. I'm honoured by the tournament."

Arching a dark eyebrow, she lowered her voice. "You may be honest with me, I hope. Do not worry yourself too much about what they say in the Small Council. No doubt they will find a way to humour my father's wishes and find the funds."

The remark took him by surprise. Knowing better than to discuss such matters in the open, she walked past him to the two young girls, who both curtsied for her — one graceful, the other wobbling a little and scowling at her feet. "Sansa, Arya," she greeted them.

"Welcome home, Aryadne."

"Sansa—"

At Lord Stark's warning, the princess raised a hand to stop him. "It's quite all right, I told her to use my name. And I'm sure you will all be happy to hear that Bran is awake and recovering quickly."

Some of the tension in his shoulders eased and he sighed, "That is a relief. Robb sent a raven days ago, but nothing since."

She ignored the fluttering in her chest at the mention of the boy's name. "Yes. He's rather busy running the estate what with—" Seeing the slight shaking of his head and glance towards the girls, she realised that they were not aware of their mother's absence and quickly corrected herself. "Well, what with the state of things after our visit. Apologies, my lord. I'm sure if my father had known the cost..." Once again, she cut herself off. She doubted it would have changed the King's mind. He tended to be rather thoughtless when it came to finances, and a great deal of other delicate matters.