Chapter Six

Her last week passed in a blur.

The tearful farewells and sad glances at the simple things Leora would miss, the days flew by and when it was time to leave she could hardly recall what she had actually done each day.

Leora hadn't seen Lord Varys since that night, now a fortnight before.

She hadn't ventured down into the chamber with the three-headed dragon again, sticking to smaller explorations; secret compartments and hidden rooms.

Though Leora did not really find anything of interest, for she had no interest in finding the interesting things.

Leora could only ask herself, why bother?, if she was to leave, then finding something interesting would only make the leaving harder.

She delayed seeing Tyrion for as long as she could, he thus, of course, knew about it all long before she told him.

Leora had felt afraid that there would be awkwardness between them, after sharing something so private, but she only felt relief and guilt when she finally visited her brother's chambers.

He was seated at the dining table, looking over a large book.

"What are you reading?" she asked him softly, pulling the door closed behind her, he glanced up and looked at her,

"Oh nothing, a rather boring volume; descriptions of the heirs in the great houses."

She frowned at him, "That's the book Lord Arryn was reading, a few days before he died.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "Spying on Hands as well eh?"

She smiled weakly, "I am sorry I didn't come sooner Tyrion. But, I was afraid…"

He only nodded, and she sat beside him, sighing and looking at the book over his shoulders, "Do you think it has something to do with his death?"

Tyrion looked at her, his expression calculating, "Jon Arryn died of a sudden sickness."

He said, but it sounded a little more like a question than a statement.

Leora nodded slowly, "It was a rather sudden illness that took him, and an unexplainable one at that."

Tyrion smiled slightly, his eyes ablaze with questions, Leora continued, "Lady Lysa has fled the city, returned to the Eyrie, and taken her son with her. That seems a little odd, doesn't it?"

"That Lady Arryn would flee the place where her child was born and she had lived for nearly fifteen years, to hide in the childhood home of her distant husband."

Tyrion only turned back to his volume, and Leora leant back in her chair.

"I won't see you for a long time after this."

"I am coming to Winterfell with the royal party; I'll be at the wedding."

"Yes, but I meant after all of that."

He sighed, "I suppose not, though I haven't seen much of you for most of your life anyway."

She frowned, "But you never came to Casterly Rock because of father!" she paused, "Though it's not like you love the Starks any more than you do him."

Tyrion smiled, "I have no quarrel with the Starks."

"Yes, but Lannisters do, and you are a Lannister."

"So everyone keeps reminding me."

Tyrion closed his book slowly and sat back, looking at her, "I will try to make them like me then, I can be very likable you know."

Leora smiled, "Do not worry sweet sister, you will be fine. You are strong and brave; as fierce as a… well, perhaps not a lion really, but you are kind and very much more likable than I."

"If anyone could end the hatred between Lannisters and Starks, it would be you Leora."

She said nothing, gazing out the window, but this time wondering what the view from her new home would be like.

"The best thing about Starks, which even our father wouldn't deny, is that they are very honourable. So at least you know that this Robb boy will have honour, and that already makes him better than most men."

Leora sighed, "I know, I know; I am better off than many; people say he is very handsome and just like his father. But it doesn't feel lucky, to be shipped away like that, to be sold."

"I can understand how Cersei must have felt- though don't say anything!" She said sharply as Tyrion opened his mouth.

"I know, I'm far better off than her! Robb Stark is my age and people say, people say, people say. But I don't care what people say, how can I love him?! How can I be happy?! I will get to meet him for what? Two days?! Before I am wed, and…"

She put her head in her hands, tears welling in Leora's eyes, but she rubbed at them furiously, determined not to cry.

Tyrion put a hand on her back but she rose quickly, turning back to him, her eyes dry and a forced smile on her face.

"I am fine Tyrion! I am being foolish, just excuse me please I must change for the journey."

With that Leora turned and fled the room, leaving her brother looking after her helplessly.

Leora felt more and more foolish the further she ran.

It happened to every girl, highborn or not. She was better off than Analie; her betrothed was thirty all ready, and Myrcella, who knew who she would be married off to.

Leora slowed her steps and breathed deeply, closing her eyes and walking in a calm manner.

"He is my age. He is handsome. He is honourable. He won't hurt me. He is strong. He is brave. One day he will be the Lord of Winterfell and warden of the North. I will be his Lady, I will be his Lady. Lady Leora Stark. Leora Stark." She whispered to herself as she walked.

Leora continued towards her room, determined not to let her fear show to anyone, ever again.

O/O/O/O/O

When Leora looked at the enormous wheel house she groaned, silently of course.

It was a monstrosity, a huge double-decked carriage of oiled oak and gilded metal pulled by forty heavy draft horses, it didn't even have windows, just an enormous wooden box that towered over everything and left the road in its shadow.

The wheelhouse was so large that they had been unable to fit it through the streets of Kings Landin.

So Leora had ridden to the city gates in an ordinary carriage with princess Myrcella, the Queen, prince Tommen and several other handmaidens.

Elyza was staying in the capital, and to Leora's delight, so was her fat Septa.

Both had been seemingly adopted by Myrcella, and the Septa said quite plainly that the princess was much sweeter and more lady-like than Leora herself.

Jeyne was staying with her though, and Leora felt much closer to the girl after that, for not many would choose to live at Winterfell over Kings Landing, yet Jeyne had.

Analie had departed for Silverhill the day beforehand, and Leora doubted whether they would ever meet again.

The two had drifted greatly apart, in those few weeks.

Truthfully it was Leora's fault, but their friendship was practically nonexistent by the time Ana left.

She wanted nothing more than to ride there, or even go in a carriage, anything but sit in that massive box all day.

However her riding had been improper on her way to Kings Landing – in the company of handmaidens, her Septa and thirty men at arms.

With a party three hundred strong; bannermen and knights, not to mention the entire royal family – even the thought of Lady Leora riding a horse to Winterfell was unacceptable.

So she reluctantly stepped down from the carriage, and walked across the Kingsroad to where the wheelhouse was standing.

Clearly the King agreed with Leora, for he was complaining constantly about how that ridiculous contraption would set their journey back at least three days.

But Cersei would have none of it, if he was going to force her and the children to travel all that way north, she said; then he would allow them at least to ride in comfort.

So when the great doors were thrown open, Leora climbed the wooden steps behind her sister and looked around anxiously.

It was much like a house, the bottom level had different rooms, filled with chairs and settees and cushions all around the floor, there were low tables and cupboards, and through another doorway Leora could see a small kitchen.

All the furniture was bolted to the floor.

"The bedrooms are above, a room for me, a room for you and Myrcella, a room for Tommen and a room for the handmaidens." Her sister said as they walked through.

Myrcella and Tommen were looking all around in delight, for they had only ever travelled once, to Highgarden, in the wheelhouse, and that was years ago.

Behind them the handmaidens were gasping and chattering happily.

Even Leora was now dreading the trip a little less, for although there weren't any windows, it looked like they would not lack in comfort – as Cersei had said.

Someone yelled a command and the doors were shut behind them.

Leora sat on a pile of cushions on the oak floor, Myrcella curled up beside her.

Cersei seated herself regally on the settee above them, with little Tommen at her side.

Then suddenly the great wheelhouse began to move; slowly.

It rattled dreadfully and Leora felt unsure whether the small wheels would be able to hold the weight of the enormous oaken building, and twenty odd people inside.

But it kept rolling along, creeping along more like, and it swayed and jolted so, that Leora felt like her brain was rattling around in her skull.

O/O/O/O/O

The journeying was endless, Leora slept and ate and sew and chattered and had an hour outside each day.

She hated every minute.

Comfortable or not, Leora wished that she could spend one day riding with the men, the wind whipping through her hair.

Leora detested the most about the wheelhouse was the speed, it travelled so slowly that it was painful, and they had to stop at least seven times to fix an axel or wheel.

The rattling noise was infuriating, and the wheelhouse added an extra six days to their journey; not three.

When at last they reached the town – the Winter Town they called it, Leora nearly cried with joy.

The towers of Winterfell stood clear on the horizon, and Leora begged her sister to let her go riding, just for an hour.

"Fine! But you will take a guard, and bring Myrcella and Tommen if they wish to join you, and ask Joff as well."

Leora was overjoyed at her sister's agreement, but she was equally horrified when both Myrcella and Tommen declined, and Joffrey wanted to come.

Leora only asked him because Tommen, who had heard his mother speak with Leora, was present at the time.

So in the end she almost would have preferred to stay in that oaken monstrosity and sew with the Queen and princess, but of course, only almost.

Leora saddled Nymeria, freeing her from the leather straps that bound her to a cart.

Her white mare was frisky and jumpy, but Leora calmed her and tenderly stroked her silky mane.

"Hush, finally we will get to run. It has been so extremely infuriating to have to sit still all day, let's ride girl." She whispered to the horse, then pulled herself up and dug her heels in gently to Nymeria's sides.

Joffrey was sitting astride his blood bay courser, with Sandor Clegane, the Hound, sitting astride a black horse behind him.

The crown prince looked every inch a royal; dressed in a golden choker and high velvet collar and a tangle of blond curls.

Leora was constantly irritated by how very tall Joffrey was, she was quite tall for her age; about the same height as Cersei already, but Joffrey stood nearly a whole head above her, and he was only twelve!

She sighed as their party of three set off, under strict rule to be gone no more than an hour, and not to stray far.

Joffrey took off all at once, swift as wind, and he rode with recklessness; as if his only goal was to abandon his aunt and guard.

Thankfully the Hound decided to pursue his prince, so Leora was left alone, Joffrey and his dog in the distance.

Leora started at a gallop towards a large rolling hill, the North was beautiful she decided, very different, but beautiful.

The hills here were purple, blue and grey, not green.

They were sprouted with heath and heather, winter roses and brambles.

There were few trees, only the endless moors.

The North was larger than all the six other kingdoms combined.

And when Leora looked in every direction and saw nothing but fields, grey skies and the tall purple grasses that blew in the cold wind like the an ocean, it was quite easy to believe.

She rode swiftly, her hair blowing in her face and in her mouth, her skin prickling with goose flesh in the cold morning air.

When Leora reached the top of her hill she could see everything.

To her left stood the endless line of the King's party: tents and horses, carts and hundreds of men moving in every direction, banners of red, black and gold, and the enormous wheelhouse towering in the middle, and beyond that were the moors.

To her right was also moors, they were never ending.

Joffrey was riding along in the distance, his golden locks flying and the Hound trailing behind like a shadow.

Behind her was the Winter Town, it was very small – only thirty odd houses and one inn, it seemed quiet and grim to Leora, but it too had a lonely sort of prettiness to it.

And in front, always to the north of her, stood Winterfell, it was dark on the horizon, and to the side of its towers and keep began a great forest and the end of the moors, the woods looked dark and cold, and her new home was hazy, it was so far away.

Leora couldn't really tell much about Winterfell from there, but despite the chill that she felt even through her cloak and woolen gloves, Leora though the North was beautiful.

She turned at last and rode back down to Joffrey and his guard, Leora drew up beside the prince and he turned to her.

"It is rather horrid here isn't it?" She looked across and smiled slightly, "I think it's got its own beauty."

Joffrey snorted, "Well of course I suppose you must say that, as you have to live here now."

Leora sighed, but kept quiet.

She began to ride ahead towards Winterfell, Joffrey kept up with her easily as his courser was faster than Nymeria.

The Hound hung back, keeping a safe distance from his master, out of ear range.

"You will be married before me Leora." Joffrey remarked, she kept her eyes ahead, "I will be at your wedding hopefully, assuming that the ceremony is straight away."

She ignored him and looked forwards, "I haven't been to a wedding before you know. But I know what happens, there'll be the vows and the cloaking, then the feast, with singers and fools, and there'll be dancing which the bride and bridegroom lead."

He paused, "And then of course there's the bedding."

Leora closed her eyes, trying to block him out.

"That's when all the men lift up the bride and strip her clothes off, and then they carry both her and her bridegroom to their chambers to consummate the marriage."

Leora just focused on her breathing, on the sound of Nymeria's hooves on the earth, on the strands of her hair that blew in her eyes, on the waving blades of grass beneath her, anything but her hateful nephew's smug voice.

"They don't do the bedding ceremony in the North." Leora replied calmly, "They will if I command it."

Leora smiled, knowing that no one would do anything of the sort.

Joffrey said nothing more; he seemed annoyed at not getting a satisfying reaction from her.

Soon she turned back and headed home towards the wheelhouse, and Joffrey followed.

As they met the Hound he silently joined on the end, behind the prince.

Joffrey burst ahead as they neared the camp and his dog sped forwards as well.

Leora returned last, reluctantly climbing down and handing the reins to a young stable boy.

She turned back to the great doors of her prison and entered.

Dinner was already being served and she hastily sat; rosy cheeked from the cold and the exercise.

Cersei frowned at her as she joined the meal and Myrcella smiled, "How was your ride Leora?" the princess asked courteously.

"Splendid." Leora replied, smiling, she wanted to add; despite your horrid brother.

"I could see Winterfell; the North is quite beautiful I think, in its own way."

Myrcella nodded, "I agree, I like the purple fields here, and there were little rabbits running about by Uncle Jaime's tent, you missed them Leora!"

She forced a smile; her uncle he was not.

Cersei sat quietly and Myrcella began telling Leora all about how she and Tommen had tried to catch one of the rabbits but they couldn't, and how a soldier had shot one with his bow and Tommen had cried.

"Did you cry?" Leora asked, Myrcella shook her head, her golden curls flying around her.

"No. We've eaten rabbits before, though it was a bit sad, because we saw it."

Myrcella paused thoughtfully, "I don't mind eating rabbits, as long as I don't see then killing it."

"Once it's on my plate it doesn't look like a rabbit." Cersei pursed her lips, "Myrcella that is hardly a lady-like subject."

Myrcella looked down at her small hands clasped in her lap, "Sorry mother." She said softly and nothing more was told of rabbits.

After dinner Leora decided to go straight to bed.

She headed up the narrow stairs and into the small cabin-like room that she shared with Myrcella.

The bed was so soft that Leora half longed to sleep on the floor even; it was just too soft.

She sighed and undressed, climbing under her blankets though the sun had only just set and the laughter and talk of the men-at-arms outside was too loud for her to slumber yet.

But tomorrow would be a difficult day, and Leora would need all her energy to meet her betrothed…