Naveena STARK :||: Queen Series #1

1) Naveena

The Kings Road wound directly through the centre of Westeros, running all the way from King's Landing to the Wall in the far North. The journey had mainly been uneventful, despite the lack of privacy in a camp and the crowds that gathered in every town we rode through. The king was overflowing with happiness at being out and about again, back on the road reliving his days of riding to war. I doubt his horse shared the same sentiment.

The further North we travelled, the hot sticky atmosphere of the South gave way to cool breezes and fresh crisp air. It would take a company of our size at least a month to reach Winterfell and provisions had been packed and planned in accordance. Every inn we visited, they were showered with riches, but it left their food stores and supplies empty. But living in a camp so large did make it easier for me to avoid my brother. He was too distracted with all the excitement to notice.

I was also avoiding Jaime. Since that afternoon Robert had interrupted our training, I hadn't returned to the Kingslayer's bed. I now realised the stimulation he supplied had become a crutch for me to release all my pent-up emotions, and it had been going on so long that he felt entitled to answers to certain questions. He hadn't said anything about my sudden lack of interest.

But without that much needed, enjoyable release, I found my patience thinning with every interaction I was forced into with my brother. It seems the feigned forgiveness I'd offered him at his expectation wasn't any easier to deliver now that it was twelve moons ago when he'd betrayed me.

The journey got better after we crossed the Neck. Beautiful untouched countryside sprawled out to the horizon in every direction and there seemed to be a deep, blissful quiet settled over the green land. The tranquility brought me a different type of peace, something I'd never felt before, nothing a tryst in bed could offer.

There had been a moment of panic when Lord Walder Frey lined up all of his unmarried sons, grandsons, nephews and great-nephews before the king in the hopes he would betroth me or the princess to one of them. My brother had firmly declined, along with the Queen, much to my relief. Marcella had been so protected by my mother I doubt she even knew what was going on. It seemed I was not so much of a nuisance that Robert would toss me to the dreadful Freys.

The temperature cooled off the closer we drew to Winterfell, the travelling band scrambling to find warmer clothes.

It surprised me how much I instantly liked the North, despite the cold. I viewed the endless rolling plains as something living, rather than just dirt that drifted by on a breeze. There was a certain mysterious quality that came with a kingdom as big as the North. There was history and life in this land.

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Winterfell simply appeared one day as we rode over the crest of a hill. The sprawling castle sat on top of a hill, mist clinging to its walls. Winter Town lay at the base of the hill, the townspeople lining the streets to watch our convoys roll through the mud. A few of the young women and children waved in excitement, but most of the people were frowning. A winding road painted the land, leading travellers into the far North, but a fork broke off to take us to the castle.

Two member of the Kings Guard rode in front, including Jaime. Two more were stationed with the Queen and the kings children. Ser Barristan and a host of the Guard had stayed in King's Landing to keep the order whilst the royal family was away.

I have fuzzy memories of this place. When I was eight years of age, at the end of Greyjoy's rebellion, Robert had rested his forces here for a month before starting the long journey home. Cersei and the children had been brought up from King's Landing to celebrate the victory. Whilst here, I met Sansa and baby Arya, the only daughters of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark. But it had been the heir, the bastard and the foster whom I had played with. Robb Stark is Nedd's eldest son and heir of Winterfell, growing up alongside his bastard brother, Jon Snow. When Balon Greyjoy admitted defeat, Nedd had taken Theon, his last living son and heir, to ward. The four of us had hidden amongst the trees in the Godswood, rode round the hills on and duelled in the courtyard. Theon, the eldest was much bigger and would often get a bit rough with me and Jon, but he would never lay a finger on the heir.