Chapter One

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Hell is empty and all the devils are here

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Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

Robb collapsed onto Eleonora's freshly made bed, casually placing his hands behind his neck to prop up his head to look lazily at the ceiling. The dark auburn-haired lord yawned loudly and repositioned himself to peer over at his eldest sister, who had been staring silently out her bedroom window for several minutes. Her blue eyes remained determined, gazing despondently onto the courtyard of Winterfell. Eleonora released a heavy sigh, closing her eyes thoughtfully for a moment and freed her knuckle from her front teeth. Night, her quick growing black direwolf pup, snoozed comfortably on his mistress's dark blue chaise.

"Stop acting so glum," said Robb, rolling his eyes and returning his attention towards the ceiling through Eleonora's sheer overhanging drapes. "The king is coming to Winterfell for the first time in nearly a decade, this is an exciting time."

"And with the king comes the Lannisters and with the Lannisters comes trouble," she said quietly. "You know as well as I that King Robert would only journeyed this far north to ask father to be his Hand."

"An honor many men would die for—"

"And an honor many have died for," she retorted. "Jon Arryn was a good man, and he died in the very same position the king will certainly offer to father."

"He died naturally, Nora," said Robb in an annoyed tone.

"There is no such thing as a natural death," she frowned, "not with the Lannisters at an arms-length.

"Eleonora—"

"Come now, Robb, you know all the stories — the disgusting whispers," said Eleonora. "They are wealthy, powerful, and dangerous. While a Lannister sits upon the throne beside the king, no one is safe."

"Be careful," said Robb, "if anyone heard you make such a accusations, you could be charged with treason."

"Are you going to turn me," she teased, flexing her fingers beneath her chin, "prop my head up on a spike and watch me rot?"

She playfully placed her hands around her own neck and pretended to choke, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"Fuck off," he laughed, throwing a pillow at her and knocking her backwards. "You know I would never breathe a word we speak to each other — it is utter nonsense most of the time anyway."

"The king's coming, the king's coming," said Rickon excitedly, dangling over Jon's shoulder in the open doorway. Rickon was in his third-year, small for his age, but was as wild as any of his other siblings. He was the youngest child, and though it was unintentional, received far less attention from Lady Catelyn as the rest received at his age — besides Jon.

"We were just discussing that fact," said Robb, sitting up to lean against his sister's headboard and sending her a thoughtful glance.

"Come here, little pup," said Eleonora, forcing a kind smile as she lifted the youngest Stark from Jon's arms.

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