Meera had informed me that the children had left for the Steppe at first light with Cai and the supplies I had asked her to pack for them. My lord-husband had been locked away in his study for most of the morning pouring over the finances. This left me with the responsibilities of making the required preparations for the coming arrival of the Starks.

We had received a raven yesterday informing us that the Starks would be joining us to celebrate the Festival of Light and to speak to us about other matters. Matters they had not specified, much to my displeasure. There was nothing worse than walking blindly into any situation. My dearest Father had told me as much one day when I was just a girl. Now, I was trying as best as I could to prepare for whatever the Starks and their expected arrival might bring.

The kitchens had been easy to organise. I trusted Meera with the menu and knew she would see to arranging ingredients and other such things that were required for the kitchen to function properly. The cleaning staff had been another matter.

They had been more than surprised when I had requested that they clean, air and prepare the solar and connecting rooms in the Northern wing of the castle. That section of the castle had been closed off for longer than my beloved Mother had been married. Some of the younger maids believed it to be haunted, which was absolute nonsense. In truth, the North wing had once housed my Father's brother and his wife. My Aunt and Uncle had disappeared one day during a ride in the mountains and had never returned.

I could never understand the superstitions and stories surrounding my Father's brother, it had all happened long before I had been born and throughout my childhood the matter was only whispered about by the common folk and kitchen staff after one too many meads. Regardless of what may or may not have transpired, the disappearance of my relatives had led to my Father being named the Lord of Evergreen.

"Mi'lady," the head housekeeper, Annetta, frowned, "It is bad luck to stir the spirits of the dead."

"Annetta, did my Uncle and Aunt die in their chamber?" I quizzed, casting a glance over the cloth-covered furniture. Annetta shook her head and moved to continue her protest, though I spoke first, "Then it is high time we let go of the past. The Wardens of the North are coming, and I expect to give them the best." With a disgruntled nod, she acquiesced to my request and bustled past me to fetch more people to assist her.

My gaze settled on three intricate glass vases that sat uncovered atop a large shelf. The way the glass had been shaped made it look as though the vessel was built of water which rippled and flowed up from the base. Even in the dull light of the barricaded room, their surfaces sparkled like polished jewels. My brows knitted in confusion at the odd phenomenon. Evergreen was filled with marvellous creations from every corner of the seven kingdoms and beyond, though nothing in the entire Keep was like those three vases.

With a gentle shake, I cleared the thoughts from my head. Vases, needed flowers. That would be my next task.

The sun was high in the sky by the time I finally made it out of the Keep and into the glasshouses to speak with the Head Gardener. Upon entering, the smell of lavender and roses, moonblooms and lilacs filled my head with childhood memories of a time long passed.

My eyes scanned the rows and rows of plants coming to rest on the grey-streaked head of my Father as he stood staring at the blooming bush of yellow roses, which grew beside the vibrant purple, lavender bushes.

"Ah my daughter, it does me good to see you!" he spoke though did not shift his attention from the roses he dutifully tended.

I ventured closer, coming to stand beside him. Many times, I caught him here in this very spot, tending the same bush in the quiet of the garden, sometimes speaking softly to it and other times preferring silence. It had been my Mother's, she had brought it back from her travels and planted it here in the tiny little glasshouse that served as a home for the various flowers my ancestors had thought necessary to grow.

"I know it doesn't bring her back," he began, "But love lives on, even when someone has returned to the Gods."

I bowed my head sending up a silent prayer at the thought of my beloved mother. She had been a beauty to behold - with hair as black as night and eyes like the moon, lips as red as the autumn frostfires and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. Her and my father had made the perfect couple, the actual embodiment of House Gale's motto – Courage and Compassion.

"What brings you to the gardens at this hour of the day?" he questioned, taking a seat of the stone wall of the garden bed, "I've felt a change in the air. Has something happened?" His expression hardened as he attempted to revert into a cold-hardened Northerner.

"No, nothing bad," I assured, "I just came to see, Amaethon. There are some things I need to discuss with him about the festival and the impending arrival of the Starks." I answered sparing him a smile, "You haven't seen him by chance?"

Father returned my smiled and gestured over to a tiny little figure that soundlessly fluttered about the glasshouse like one of the Children of the Forest. "It has been a long time since Rickard ventured this far North. I wonder what draws him North now? Ah, the mysteries of the unknown. It will do me good to see the young Lord again." I nodded leaving my father to his memories as I hurried over to the funny little man who seemed to be blessed with hands of magic.

"Amaethon, could you spare a moment of your time to speak with me?"

Earth brown eyes met mine. "Certainly, my lady. Certainly!" he babbled, so quickly it was almost difficult to understand him, "Would you like a spot of tea- oh, never mind, I've no kettle. What were you here for again? Oh, right, to talk to me. How can I help?"

I stood waiting for the old fellow to catch his breath before I started. "The Starks of Winterfell are coming to Evergreen. I will need three bouquets to place in the rooms. Something cheerful though, that will serve to keep the rooms in the North wing smelling lovely. Could you manage that Amaethon?"

He nodded eagerly, "Yes, my lady. I shall make them the moment I hear of their approach and have them delivered to the – the…"

"The North wing," I provided. His freckle dotted cheeks reddened slightly at his forgetfulness.

"Yes, that's the one. I shall see to it. The bouquets will be the most wonderful Lady Stark has ever seen!" he declared, turning and hurrying off through the glasshouse muttering about lilacs and spiceflowers.

I glanced over at my father once more. "Has he always been like this?"

Father chuckled and shook his head as he finished pruning the roses, "Only in the glasshouses, my dear."

For some reason, his words did nothing to reassure me. The Amaethon I was used to, the one I spoke to around the castle, was not so… occupied? I bit my lip to stop myself from further commenting on the matter. It was not polite or lady-like to gossip or speak badly of people. I needed to start showing and practising some restraint in preparation for the visit of the Wardens of the North. Truth be told we all needed to work on our control, especially my daughters if the stable boys' gossip held any truth at all.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I followed the path back out of the glasshouse into the fresh mountain air to continue my duties.

"My lady!" Ser Niclas waved from across the courtyard, hurrying towards me, "Your presence is needed in the Godswood."

Without breaking my stride, I nodded, turned and headed towards the Godswood with all the haste that was appropriate for a Lady.

Unlike the Godswood of other noble houses, the one at Evergreen was small, perched on the edge of a 'cliff' overlooking the plains that stretched out to the edge of the mountains. It was filled with exactly one of each tree - oak, hawthorn, elm, pine, ash and sentinel – all of which surrounded the heart tree like a Kingsguard protecting their liege. Their leaves kissed the heavens, towering over the heart tree which grew thick and twisted, with a deeply carved face that cautioned people of the Old God's watchful gaze.

"Alis," a deep, warm voice called out from the depths of the sacred place, "Come sit with me."

I sat on the smooth stone bench and offered a gentle smile to the man I had called husband for almost seventeen years now, "Is this your latest scheme to get us alone, Ryon?"

Ryon laughed, hazel eyes glinting in the dappled sunlight as his arm snaking around my waist in a familiar gesture of comfort, "Not at all, my love. There are urgent matters for us to discuss, I am simply making the most of an opportunity to – what's the expression? Strike two birds with a single stone?"

I shook my head, gently letting it rest upon his shoulder, "Why do you suppose the Starks are coming?"

With a heavy sigh, Ryon glanced down at me before shifting his watchful eyes to the edge of the horizon, "We can only assume the best, though prepare for the worst."

"And what would that be?"