Light the Way

CHAPTER 11. rising storms

ALINA

The morning dawned grey and heavy, the skies above Winterfell overcast with a lingering chill that crept through the walls of the keep. Alina stirred beneath the furs, her body slowly awakening to the dull murmur of voices outside. She felt Robb's absence beside her immediately - his warmth no longer by her side. Her hand instinctively reached out to the empty space where he had lain, but it was cold.

A knock came at the door, followed by a hushed, urgent voice. "My lady," Nella called softly from the other side, "the Lord Robb requests your presence."

A sense of unease settled in Alina's stomach as she rose from the bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she dressed in haste. Winter really was coming.

When she entered the room Robb found himself in, he was stood near the window, a letter crumpled in his hand. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, as though holding back an invisible storm.

"Robb?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, and for a moment, Alina could see the boy she had come to know. The one who had trained with wooden swords and chased after direwolves. But in that instant, he looked different - older, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen on his shoulders.

"It is my father," Robb began, his voice thick with emotion. "He's dead, Alina."

The words hit her like a blow. Eddard Stark - Lord Stark, Ned - dead? She struggled to grasp the meaning of it, her mind racing to make sense of something so unfathomable. The King had died not long ago, and his son Joffrey had replaced him. But for Lord Ned to now also be dead? It made no sense.

Alina took a step toward Robb, but her legs felt weak beneath her. She could barely breathe.

Ned Stark had been the embodiment of honour to her, a man of unwavering principle and duty. When she had first come to Winterfell, frightened and uncertain of her place in this cold, it had been Lord Ned's quiet strength that had comforted her. His wisdom, his kindness - it had made her feel safe in a world that often felt so perilous. She had sometimes even wished her own father were more present in his children's lives - the way she saw Ned was.

She remembered how he had once given her a small nod of approval after she spoke in defence of one of the maids during a feast. The briefest acknowledgement, but in his eyes, she had seen respect for her, for her courage. He had been a father figure to her, in his own reserved way, and now... gone.

How could such a man, the most honourable man she had ever known, meet such an end? Her thoughts reeled back to the tales that had trickled the north, rumours of betrayal, of accusations of treason. None of it had seemed possible. How could anyone believe Lord Stark capable of treason?

Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to take a breath. "How?" the question slipped out, though part of her was afraid to hear the answer.

"They say..." Robb's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes dark with grief and anger. "They say he was executed... in King's Landing. By the order of King Joffrey."

The room spun. The blood drained from her face as reality sank in. The treachery, the cruelty - Ned Stark had been murdered, and for what? For loyalty? For refusing to bend to lies?

The thought of it made her chest ache. This was the man who had built a small spet in Winterfell for his wife, though he followed the Old Gods himself, a man who had shown her such quiet respect despite her being a girl from the south, a ward of his household. He had been a man of principle, a man who believed in right and wrong - and ultimately it had led to his death. Executed like a common criminal.