Twilight and Mist
The snow was strange to her eyes. She had never seen so much of it in her life. The west was a cool place, never scorching hot or bitterly cold. It was perfect weather year around. It was why she had suffered so in Kings Landing when she first arrived with her father. The Heat … gods the heat, and the smell, the sweaty people covered in shit and dirt.
But the coldest she had ever been was alone in the woods this evening in the north. She had wanted to be alone with Jaime, but by the gods no one truly gets what they want and that sheep Catelyn Stark had to accompany her husband on Robert's pointless hunt. So like a good wife and queen she had to come along as well. Only her blustering oaf of a husband can hear about some albino stag in the Wolfs wood, the source of all luck for the small folk in the region and want to go kill it. Now they were three days from Winterfell, on the cusp of night, chasing tall tales and rumors.
Her white horse whickered uncomfortably as she sat in the thickets, her long sable cloak wrapped around her, hood drawn overhead. Robert had wanted another look around and so their retinue was miles away, probably now asleep, unknown that they were still out in the evening. The Mist was swirling around the ankles of her horse and she felt a twinge of nervousness at such tall trees cloaked in growing darkness, ancient and thick were their trunks. Around her wildlife scurried, long ears popping out of the mist and gliding by her.
Up ahead she could hear Robert sing some ridiculous tavern song she was sure he heard somewhere in his youth. Suddenly her horse whickered and stood on its hind legs. The queen was tossed from the saddle landing on the cold floor. She quickly got to her feet as her horse galloped away, turning she was suddenly confronted with the fierce creature that frightened her fearless steed. The fuzzy brown rabbit seemed as unimpressed with her as she was of him.
"A Fierce creature, your grace?"
She glared and whirled to find their humble host, loitering close by watching her. His grin was just barely hidden from her. Eddard Stark looked tall and fierce in his saddle and she felt a blush touch her cheeks.
"The Fiercest …" She countered brushing the dirt from her cloak. She would like nothing better than to slap that smug look off his face.
He navigated the old war horse toward her, avoiding foliage that Cersei didn't even realize was there in the dark. He halted the large animal next to her.
"Are you hurt, Your Grace?" He asked. The lord of Winterfell treated her not gently, but he still has her safety as the highest priority. That took her aback a moment. Most of her retinue would have fawned over her like she was made of glass, or her husband's men would have laughed at her. But Eddard Stark treated her with a different kind of respect that few gave her.
"No, my lord … flustered." She huffed in irritation. She hated these woods, these lands, these people … she hated the cold.
He reached his hand toward her. "This way back, your grace." He said motioning to his hand.
Cersei blushed again, she didn't know why. "No, my lord, I'm fine." She waved his hand off, determined not to be seen as frail. All she wished was to keep the respect that Lord Stark had shown her.
Suddenly a wolf pup all in white with red eyes popped out of the mist and nipped at her cloak playfully. She let out a foggy breath of surprise and nearly climbing up Ned's arm. When she saw that it was only a pup she let out a steady yet angry breath. When she looked back Eddard gave a stiff laugh.
"Obviously" He said with a teasing mock that only Jaime had ever dared. She cleared her throat and with a dark glare moved to mount. Eddard moved back in the saddle as she climbed on top of the horse.
"Are you cold?" She felt a shiver at the warm breath tickling her ear.
She smirked grudgingly. "Have you not spoken with my husband … I'm sure you'll know the answer to that question." She would not give him the satisfaction of getting the best of her this evening.
Eddard Stark seemed different when she found his eye. He looked at her with a hint of pity, but maybe even longing. "Perhaps you never found the right blanket?" He replied, looking ahead, his voice low.
"And it would seem all the good ones where taken before I had a chance to look for a suitable one." She was just as quiet, finding his eyes in a new light. Cersei's ride back to camp was the warmest she had ever felt in this country with Ned's arms and fur lined cloak draped around her.
No one ever knew how close he had held her that morning.
As evening fell, a maiden stood
At the edge of a wood.
In her hands lay the reins
Of a stallion.
And ne'er I'd seen a girl as fair,
Heard a gentler voice anywhere.
Whispered, "Alas..."
She belonged, belonged to another.
Another forever.
Yes, she belonged to
the twilight and mist.
"Twilight and Mist – James Horner"