The door to the second largest chamber in the castle noisily creaked open, immediately altering its occupant to the presence of someone there. Timidly, a man increasingly too old for his station, crept in. The room's owner did not make any moves to turn around, instead choosing to continue facing forward, her hand anxiously writing a letter on yellowing parchment
"What is it Pippa? I'm rather busy at the moment." The short clipped words flew out of the girl's mouth without a second thought, her attention never rising from the paper in front of her.
"Actually it is I, my lady." The wavering voice of the room's intruder countered back.
This was enough to get the woman being addressed to focus her attention onto her guest and turn her head towards him. Her dark eyebrows rose for just a sliver of a moment to indicate her surprise at her mistake before returning to their usually impassive state. The old man held in a forlorn sigh at the action but said nothing of it. The gesture was small enough that almost anyone else would have never noticed it. But Silas had known that face for years, and he was able to see the emotions that lay beneath it, regardless of the mask that tried to hide them.
"Well then what is it?" The woman asked, her voice a steady monotone and her dark eyes refocused on the paper.
"Your father." Silas began. This got her full attention as she slowly put down her quill and turned her body in the chair to face him. There was trepidation in her eyes now, a flicker that remained for such a time that Silas questioned whether she chose not to hide it at all or was unable to. "He is adamant in his decision as you know, and received the confirmation for his endeavors by raven early this morning."
What exactly Lord Bellmore's endeavors were did not need to be said ans a look of understanding flowed between the two participants. The lady to whom the plans pertained looked starkly at the floor in an attempt to regain her composure. Meeting the Maester's gaze again she coldly asked, "Does my father know that you're telling me this?"
A slightly abashed look crossed the old man's face. He had gone out of his way to inform the young Lady Bellmore of the events that have taken place revolving around her future, against the orders of her father and his counselors. Yet now she seemed almost to be accusing him of great treason.
"No, my lady. The counsel did not wish for you to be informed until it was absolutely required, but I felt you had a right to know." He said honestly. He need not tell her the reason why he defied the orders of his commanding lord. He left out that at each council meeting while the men were deliberating over the fate of the lord's only daughter he pictured the image of a small girl pounding her feet against the castle's stone floor as she ran through the ancient halls, desperate to get to whatever her destination was. The little girl still taking the time to whip her face around and fixate him with the largest beaming smile he had seen, deep dimples and dark flowing curls cascading around her.
It had been years since the Maester had seen that smile. She must have been a girl of only six or seven years to her then. The smile had faded alongside the rest of her when her lady mother had died. Consumed by a fever when the little lady was only one and ten. The Lady Elaeyne Bellmore had been a kind and caring woman, treating her only child, and the only child she would ever have, Verena, as the prized jewel she was. His little lady had parts of her that were very reminiscent of her mother, delicate and soft, until the grief had chipped them away like ice carving rock, leaving what was left behind hardened and severe.
"Thank you." Verena replied. She took a deep breath and readied herself to say more when another unassuming knock came at the door, before flying open outright.
"Lady Verena! You're – oh!" Pippa, Verena's handmaiden exclaimed running into the room before halting upon seeing that Verena was not alone. "I'm sorry my lady I hadn't realized that you would be having company.
"It's fine Pippa." Verena said dismissively, no longer looking at Maester Silas and instead at the mousy figure of her handmaiden and childhood friend. "What is it?"
"Your father requests your presence in the great hall." Pippa squeaked looking curiously at the Maester standing in the center of the room.
"It looks as though the time has officially come." Venera muttered a twinge of sarcasm playing on her lips as she looked ahead out the door of her chambers down the stone hallway. "Thank you Pippa." She responded absently not making eye contact with either of her guests as solemnly stepped out of her chair and walked out of the room.
As she left the room Maester Silas felt a twinge of sorrow in his chest. He tried not to think of the carefree child he had once taken care of, and how the gentle soul that had once resided in her body was torn out. He closed his eyes tightly blocking out the memories, though he could not escape the sound of a ringing childish laughter that was now all but forgotten.
Any courage that Verena had gathered on her walk to the great hall left her as she placed her hand on the large wooden doors leading to her father's hall. Pushing them open she was immediately met with the presence of her father only. She had been expecting other members of his council and felt herself being taken aback. Was this what he had planned? To try to appear intimate and caring as he told her that he was selling her life away.
"Verena." Lord Jorrel Bellmore greeted. His voice a deep baritone with little to no inflection that surprisingly reminded herself of her own. "Come sit."
"Father" Verena responded cordially back as she took a seat at the opposite end of the great hall table. "Pippa told me you wanted to see me."
"Yes obviously." Jorrel reprimanded dismissively. "Or else why would you have come."
"Obviously." Verena replied fighting not to look away from the stern features of her father's face. The years had aged him but in a manner that added to his appearance. His hair had turned grey and was cropped extremely close to his skull. His thin lips turned down into a scowl as he regarded her from underneath his harsh brow.
"Enough of these false niceties Verena. You're my daughter; we should be able to talk simply you and me. Man to man."
Her eyes flashed in a thinly veiled attempt at hiding her annoyance. "But I am not a man father. You know this, because it's what's gotten us into this situation and it's the reason why I'm here." Though there was hardly any inflection in her voice she knew her father would pick up the anger laced through her words. "I am your only child and I am a woman. Which leaves you without an heir and without a plan as for what you want to do with me."
"You are not my only child." Lord Bellmore harshly replied. He at least had the grace to look to the table instead of the eyes of his daughter and be faced with an exact reflection of his late wife's as he referenced his other children.
"I am the only true born." Verena combatted, her teeth grinding together so tightly she would be surprised if her father wasn't able to hear them from his place across from her. "I am the only child of you and your late lady wife and you would rather legitimize a bastard than name me as your heir."
"Ashton is my son, that is the only thing that matters"
"Your son with the name Stone." Verena hissed "The product of your tryst with a common whore while mother lay in your bed fevered and dying!"
"Enough!" Lord Bellmore yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. A wave of fear shot through Verena's veins. "Do not speak as though you know my actions better than myself."
"I know enough!" Verena retaliated her voice reaching a pitch so high she was sure the messenger ravens in the nearby barn would fly off. Taking in a shaky breath Verena tried to compose herself.
"Father." She pleaded. "Listen to me. My sons will be lords of Strongsong, your grandsons will be the lords of the second most powerful house in the East. You don't need to bother legitimizing Ashton. I am your heir."
"Your sons will be lords of Winterfell, the most powerful house in the North. If power is what you want then this is the way you will have it. Winterfell is greater than Strongsong by far. I don't understand why you're so insisting on having it anyway."
Because it is my home. Verena thought to herself in a moment of vulnerability. She did not want to be heir for the power; she wanted it because it belonged to her. She was the only true born child. It should be hers, she grew up here and she watched her mother die here. Because it is my home father she heard herself pleading, because it is all I have ever known. Because I will not lose it to some bastard child when it belongs to me. I do not want to leave father, please do not send me away.
And yet she could not find it in herself to say any of those things, so she did what she has always done best; said nothing.
A shadow of a smile appeared on her father's stern face. "I do hope you understand Verena." Her father spoke, his words softened but his face did not. "This is what is best for you. It is what you want. You will see that."
She fixated her dark eyes on her father and said nothing. But she knew he was wrong. This was not what she wanted; he had never known what she wanted from the beginning.
"I know Silas has been telling you parts of our planning." Her father continued. "You're almost of age now and it is time for you to be wed. Now it is most advantageous that we-"
Her father continued speaking but his words were reduced to sounds of rushing water in her ears as Verena's heart sunk into her stomach. She could no longer will herself to listen and instead focused on the rapid beat of her pulse. Perhaps she would have cried, if she remembered how.
"Do you understand Verena?" The question reawakened her attention. She gave her father a dazed look that let him know that she hadn't been listening. In a rare moment of true gentleness her father sighed. His words were harsh still but began to somehow seem genuine. "Ned Stark has a son a little older than yourself. I've already written him and he agrees on the match. He was close to your mother's uncle Jon Arryn you see."
"When is the wedding?"
"Not for some time. A few months at least." A small sense of relief filled her body, until her father finished his sentence. "The Starks want you to foster at Winterfell until then. You'll leave as soon as possible for the north, I'd say be ready to leave in a weeks time. It'll give you a chance to get to know this Robb Stark boy anyhow."
Verena nodded, it will also get me out of the way that much faster, she couldn't help but think. She had nothing left to say. She was losing everything she had ever known and she had nothing to say to even try and stop it.
"May I be dismissed father?" She asked and left as soon as possible when her father nodded solemnly to her.
Thankfully her room was empty of Maesters and handmaidens when she returned to it. She curled into a ball on her bed and lay awake all night, thinking of her pending marriage to this Robb Stark and how it was the reason she had lost everything she cared for.