𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗

𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

When she'd first arrived at Winterfell, it hadn't taken her long to notice that the castle was extremely inclusive: people who didn't come from near there seldom visited the palace, and likewise – those who instead did live there barely ever got the chance to travel somewhere else.

When Elise had (very carefully) asked the old Maester the reason behind Winterfell's apparent isolation, the answer had been blunt, but dull (which was exactly what she had been excpected): "We are at war, my Lady. None is safer outside of this walls more than our soldiers are at Riverrun. We can't risk prince Brandon and Rickon's lives".

Though reasonable, the reply had still left the girl with a sour, unpleasant aftertaste: "It is under my impression that not every person living in the North is safe and happy behind these many walls, Sir" she'd objected. "A leader has to see to his people in order to be considered one".

"What would you suggest that we did, then?" had asked the Maester, both annoyed and helplessy resigned.

The young Frey had smiled internally: that was exactly the topic she'd intended to land on at last. "Well, if you fear our noble selves would be put under too much risk were they to leave the castle unattended, let us at least find some skillful and trustworthy men to help us keep an eye on the situation outside".

"And where would you go search these brave soldiers, when King Stark has led all of the South to help his win this gory war?"

The girl had had to restrain herself from beaming: with every question, the situation had seemed to be aligning more and more with her cause. "Oh, but I didn't say soldiers, Sir. I said men. And we cannot have the North be defended by the far shadows of an army gone south: we must be able to defend the territory by ourselves should there be the need for it".

Maester Luwin had smiled at her sympathetically: it was the same smile a wet-nurse might've given her children. "But, dear Lady Elise, where would you go search for these..." and he had paused as if to remember the exact words that she had said just a few moments earlier "skillful and trutworthy men, as you described them?"

This time, it had been Elise to smile – a smile similar yet completely different, that inspired superiority but not pity; command but not obligation. "Well, this should be yours to answer, Sir, shouldn't it? You've been living here for much longer, and you surely know the North better than I should ever hope to".

Maester Luwin had sighed loudly, but it had been clear (even then), that something had changed about his features: where once had stood irritation, now only stood resignation.

Eventually, the place where their quest was most likely to be succesfull, had turned out to be White Harbor: Elise had often heard the city named, as it was the main trade port of the North thanks to its position, and was also the largest settlement north of the Neck. The dwelling of New Castle (the seat of House Manderly) within the city's territory, besides, made it an even more appealing destination: Lord Menderly was in fact voiced to be an unbelivably fat man, and had therfore sent his first-born and only son, Wylis, forth to fight alongside Robb (their Liege Lord), as the representative of House Manderly – which meant that he would be at his Castle ready to welcome them (and, as Elise was hoping, help them).

The young Frey had carefully weaved all the accords, meeting times and what not, and lastly it had been confirmed that she (accompained by Maester Luwin and some other guards), would come visit the fat Lord within a week's time: and that morning was exactly the day they'd decided.

Once Martyna was completely done preparing her, the girl quickly grabbed a woolen coat to cover her shoulders and made her way back to Winterfell's main yard. The Maester and the guards were already there – clearly waiting for her – alongside her two nephews – Little and Big Walder – and prince Bran and Rickon.

"Have fun!" said the ladder, a pout on his thin lips.

Elise squatted gently beside him: "Don't be sad Rickon, we'll be back by dawn. You have to stay here – you're the prince! Winterfell needs you".

The small boy still didn't seem too happy. "But I want to go to White harbor as well, and see the fat Lord".

Bran, who was standing beside him, elbowed the brother while rolling his eyes: "Rickon, shut up. You've already seen White Harbor, and you know that Robb wants us there. Besides, do not call him "the fat Lord"! He is Ser Wyman Manderly".

Rickon scoffed: "Well yeah – whatever". Then, turning to Shaggydog: "c'mon Shaggy, let's go catch some squirrels!"

Bran turned around: "I am sorry for my brother, Lady Elise" he said apologetically. "He just got really... ahem... irritated when he found out we were not to come with you.".

Elise had smiled warmly: "Do not worry, I understand. It must be hard, staying locked all the time".

Bran shrugged his shoulders. "It's for our own safety, and for respect of Robb".

At that moment, a voice interrumpted them: "Lady Elise, it's time we set off!"

The girl smiled one last time at the prince, before screaming "I'm coming!" and hurrying to the carriage: she'd initially asked to ride there, but had afterwards understood that it would've been a better introduction for them once they entered White Castle.

"Are you faring well, My Lady?" asked Maester Luwin once they were comfortably seated within the carriage. "You look especially stunning today".

"I'm very well, thank you. And also excited about the upcoming meeting" and for the upcoming day.

"I am sure it will all flow smoothly, do not worry".

Elise leaned against the small window of the carriage, looking distractedly at the icy landscapes that were quickly unfolding before her eyes. Yeah – it will all flow smoothly.