The Beast once had a name. Sometimes, when the howls quieted and the stars glittered through streams of moonlit snow, she could nearly feel it on the tip of her tongue. It was on the verge of becoming extinct. No one had spoken to her for many centuries. There were Starks no longer in the world, a breed now down to the last. In her dreams, the Beast remembered exactly why she had become the creature she remained. In those times, her chest pounded when she woke and she felt a shame she had long forgotten.
Most trespassers decided against intruding at the sight of her gates. Those who didn't the Beast would scare off with a member of her direwolf family via warging. If in a foul enough mood, the Beast would pay a visit to the gates herself. Over the years, her home had been forgotten by locals, and those who visited were either genuinely lost, or young men come to prove their bravery, what little they had of it. The Beast was made of sterner material.
But the Beast had watched through the stone eyes of her gate wolves and had been mildly surprised to find a young girl at the entrance. Her attire and practical survival items suggested she had not come on a dare, nor was she lost in the mountainous terrain. The scenes of strung carcasses of enemies hanging from weirwood branches carved into the main doors had done nothing to deter the child either.
The Beast had felt a curiosity rise in her, and she had left the confines of the castle to observe from the shadows. The girl stepped with a precision that the Beast snorted at. The child walked like a southern fool on ice. But once accustomed to the stone path, she had moved swiftly to the sanctuary where the direwolves kept their young.
The Beast had not been pleased when the girl lifted the pup. Her displeasure morphed to unbridled fury when the child placed the wolf into her bag. With her raging blood that flowed through the grounds of her ancestral home, the gates closed and sealed themselves once more and the walls grew from the frozen earth to tower the Godswood.
With a perverse joy, the Beast watched as the girl struggled with the gates and saw the prison the Godswood had become. As she smelled the faintest whiff of fear on the breeze, the Beast moved to the gates and waited for her trespasser to notice.
The Beast reclined in weirwood throne and recalled the conversation that had followed. What humans called themselves hounds? Not only called themselves hounds, but had the gull to threaten the likes of her? In her very own home? Curiosity peaked in her once more. The Beast snorted to herself and saw the snow fall more heavily through the paned windows. A hound without fur, the girl would fare for only a short time in the harsh cold of the Godswood.
The gates of the Godswood melted its icy lock and swung open with a creak. The Beast strode in with a purpose, her paw prints light on the snow. The girl was not entirely a fool. She had tucked herself amongst the pups within the shelter of a weirwood to conserve what heat she had.
"Come," the Beast barked impatiently.
The girl blinked her frozen lashes and held the Beast's gaze with a stubborn intensity before she rose stiffly. She had begun to set the dark pup down amongst its litter mates.
"Bring the pup with you," the Beast growled. "You've come all this way for it after all."
The girl barely kept up with the Beast as she stalked from the wood toward the castle.
"Will you let me return home?" the girl asked, as she jogged to keep in step. "I'll pay you still, I'll work in exchange for the pup – "
The Beast rounded on the child as they approached the open doors to the entrance hall. "I promised no such thing, and a few hours' time has not changed the uselessness of coinage for me." She grabbed the collar of the girl's shirt and pulled her into the warmth, the fires lit in every hearth. The doors slammed behind them. "What good is a dead hairless hound to me?"
The girl yanked herself away and cradled the pup in her arms securely. "I have a name," she declared sharply.
"My wolves have no names spoken by human mouths, why should a dog?"
"A hound," the girl growled right back at her. "And you may call me Elina."
"So be it," the Beast replied. "The castle is yours to roam. You will find no exit, so do not waste your efforts. Meals are served at seven, noon, and six in the dining hall. The direwolf is yours to care for." She continued to move toward the throne room, the girl on her tail once more. She strode up to her weirwood seat and sat with a flourish, belying her wolfish appearance. She waved her hand in dismissal. "Find yourself a room, with the exception of the North tower. Those are my quarters. Go."
The girl did not budge. "My brother, The Hound, he will come for me still."
The Beast pulled her lips back in a feral grin. "As I told you before, I look forward to meeting him."
"You won't hurt him, will you?" the girl breathed out, showing her youthful worry.
"Only if he gives me just reason." The Beast retorted. "Now go, I tire of you."
The girl hesitated before she turned on her heel and briskly walked away.
The Beast knew the child could not hide from her within these walls. She looked forward to breakfast. It had been a long time since she'd used the human's common tongue, and the girl spoke it well, despite her brash tones toward her.
Breakfast was on the table. The wolves hunted for her mostly, and the Beast cooked the food herself. The glass gardens provided what meager vegetables and fruits she enjoyed, though mostly meat satisfied her cravings. Sometimes she would hold a ripe lemon in hand and could remember confections made of it, sweet and tart in a single bite. But the Beast no longer knew how to make such things.
"You're late," she snarled at the girl.
Elina padded forward in her thick woolen socks and the direwolf pup trotted with the uncoordinated grace of babes. Her dress was crumpled from being slept in. "My apologies –" The girl paused mid-sentence. "What should I call you?"
"Men call me Beast."
"I'm not a man," the girl replied firmly. "And Beast is not a name."
"The years have stolen my name from me," the Beast insisted. "Call me what you will."
The girl picked up a piece of bacon and slipped it to the pup. "I shall think on it."
"So be it," the Beast replied. "Your attire is unacceptable. There are clothes that would fit you in the western wing."
The girl's spoonful of porridge stopped midway to her mouth. "My clothes? What about your – "
"Finish your meal and do as your told, Elina," the Beast intoned, brooking no argument. Elina was heavily reminded of her brother's voice when he had tired of her antics after a long day.
"Yes," she replied sullenly.
The rest of the meal endured uncomfortably in silence. Once the plates were clean of food, the Beast wiped her muzzle with the delicacy of a lady.
"I apologize for my shortness," the Beast told the girl serenely. "I have had only the company of my wolves for too long. But with you here, perhaps I will have a new purpose." She opened her mouth as if to say more, but her teeth closed with an audible snap.
"Perhaps," Elina agreed.
The girl's words were obedient enough, but the Beast was no imbecile. She sensed the tension in the air, and Elina's silent rebellion.