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I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.
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Despite the sun, Thalia Dayne swore no heat radiated from it up north. At least not with the Despite the sun's relentless gaze, Thalia Dayne could not help but feel the chill of the North settle in her bones, a stark contrast to the warmth of Dorne that she longed for. Beneath the boughs of a stately fir tree, she watched Leo and Rickon scamper about, their laughter ringing hollow against the grim backdrop of Winterfell. The sun, she mused bitterly, seemed to shine without purpose in this desolate place; it was no wonder the Northerners appeared so lifeless.
"Missing home?" The voice of Maester Ludwin broke through her reverie, and she turned to see him looming above her, the weight of years etched upon his brow.
With a lazy smile, she nodded. "Back in Dorne, we'd be by the sea, the sand warm beneath our toes, and the sun actually offering warmth, not just a pale imitation." She chuckled softly, pulling her cloak tighter around her as if to shield herself from the creeping cold.
The maester's gaze followed the boys, now embroiled in their own wild skirmish. Rickon, wielding a sturdy branch like a sword, chased Leo with reckless abandon. "He's adjusting well," Ludwin observed, a hint of approval in his voice.
"Ah, he's young," Thalia replied, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the little boy. In moments, he reminded her so much of his sister, unyielding in his pursuit of answers, a mirror to her past. Leo, with his spirit of adventure, seemed unfettered by fear—a trait that, as the days turned to weeks in this unforgiving North, filled her with dread. "In a few years, he'll hardly recall any of this. Soon enough, he won't remember his mother, nor his father... or Hermione."
She felt the maester's eyes weighing heavily on her. "No word from her," he said, the statement laden with unspoken worry.
Thalia shook her head. It had been months since Hermione had last penned a letter, and in that time, dread had seeped into her thoughts. For anyone else, she might have feared for their safety, but Hermione was resolute, a fact she clung to like a lifeline. That was until Leo had spoken of a dream where Hermione wept, haunted by lions. She had dismissed it as childish imagination, yet the chill it left in her soul was unmistakable.
