Chapter 7: Beginning to Thaw


I have never been one to change. Routines have always proved good enough, and I guess I never really was interested enough in the world to do anything that would inspire any sort of shift within myself. I never climbed any notable mountains. I never went scuba diving in any reefs. I never did much outside of the activities forced on me by my parents.

I was fine just going to school and coming home. I was fine flipping the pages of my books in lieu of actual adventures. I was fine with a hollow life. I was perfectly fine for a very long time, until I wasn't.

Even after my trip to the hospital, I didn't change much. I withdrew from the stress of my everyday life, but with that time I took off I did nothing of importance. I didn't go on any life-changing trips. I didn't dunk myself into the Ganges river. I didn't travel through the villages of Mozambique. I didn't volunteer, or get a pet, or do anything outside of my routine.

I was fine living numb, and frozen in my little post-suicide-attempt-bubble. At the time I wanted to stay there; I didn't want to pop again.


When the new day broke I met Catelyn and Rickon in a large foyer. I wasn't too worried about looking after Rickon; kids were the one kind of people I wasn't inherently nervous around. I guess I always just understood them a little more than adults. In fact, I was starting to relax more to all my surroundings here in Winterfell. I had almost gotten used to the sound my feet made on the stone. I had even coped with the chill that permeated from them, but that was only possible because of the small worn cloak that someone had placed outside of my door. I was just about to thank Catelyn for the added comfort of fur, but her face turned stern.

"This is our youngest son, Rickon." I looked to her right to see the small boy with the wild heart. He was exactly what I would have expected him to be, the epitome of a child. I felt my mouth form a smile as she continued her speech, "I am told my husband has promised you employment here looking after him, and I need you to know something, Dahlia," she straightened herself, and grew a solid foot in height with intimidation alone. "I will not tolerate anything less than the best for my children. If you fail to take care of my boy, then I will be forced to inform Lord Stark of your failings."

I bowed my head briefly before I responded to her, "Of course, my Lady."

And with that, without any further instruction, without any spoken rules for the care of her son, she whirled away down the hall.

I walked over to Rickon, and extended my arm for a hand-shake. "Pleasure to meet you, my Lord. I'm Dahlia."

He stared at my hand for a few moments, like it were broccoli or some other item unclean in the mind of a child. Then he spoke, "Are you going to be mean and boring like the other maids?"

I let out a few nervous laughs, before realizing that I had once been a lot like little Rickon. I too had a slew of stern maids, each with their own boring plan to make the most of my youthful days. The nervousness left me, and I knew exactly what I had to do. I had an opportunity to be exactly the opposite of my cold nannies. I had the opportunity to let Rickon, who was about to have an even worse childhood than I had, have some fun. "I hope not," I said, trying to reassure him with the goofiest smile my face can contort into. "What did they do that was mean?"

He was rocking back and forth slightly, and it was clear to see he had twice the energy of any normal child. "They wouldn't let me play in the dirt. They wouldn't let me use swords." He huffed one last time, "They wouldn't let me do anything."

"That doesn't sound fair at all. Actually it sounds a lot like the nannies I had when I was your age." I remembered the piano lessons, followed by French lessons, followed by the math tutor, followed by whatever other activity they were trying to push onto me. The worst was polo, or as I always referred to it 'snooty hockey.' What would I have wanted when I was his age? That was it; all I really wanted was someone to listen to me for a change. I crouched down to Rickon's eye-line. "Well, is there anything you really want to do?"

"Anything?" His eyes lit up like fireworks during the new year, exploding with possibilities for potential mischief.

"Anything."

"I want to play with Shaggy Dog." I nodded a few times, then he continued, "I want us to play in the mud and dirt."

Of course, he wants to make a mess, just like every other kid. I stood up straight and extended my hand down to him. "Then lets go get Shaggy Dog and find ourselves some mud."


I never got to play in the mud when I was a child, and I think I missed something potentially magical. It seemed like the more our clothing got dirty, the easier it was for us to laugh. Rickon, as unruly as I had read he could be, was actually much better behaved than the kids I babysat when I was 13. When I told him the rules to tag, he didn't have any problems following them. When I told him to not play so roughly with Shaggy Dog, he immediately gave the wolf pup a few soft pats and then flung himself face-first into the puddle of mud that we had found. He had an imagination. He had a real child's imagination, and he included me in his games. We were hunting in a forest. We were fighting at the Trident. We were all wolves in a pack. For hours and hours we laughed. I didn't even care that my sides hurt. In fact, it was the easiest I have ever breathed. I found myself wondering, in the rare lulls, if this is the kind of childhood Sophie had. The lulls were never long enough for me to think about her for more than a second, because some of Rickon's fire had passed to me during our time in the mud. I felt courage, or happiness, or something that I don't think I had ever felt before. I might be dead in the Washington woods. My best friend might have betrayed me. I might never see anyone from that life again. But for those hours I didn't care about any of it. I just cared about how the mud felt between my toes in Winterfell.

"He is absolutely filthy! You all are!" Catelyn's stern, and only slightly shrill voice rang out as soon as she saw the three of us. Needless to say, I was thrown from my happiness high. "Is this your idea of being a good maid to my son?" She turned to her husband, whose face didn't seem angry, but I couldn't be sure. "Ned, this will not do."

"What would you have me do, Cat? Send this poor girl out onto the street over a bit of mud?"

"Look what she did to Rickon!"

Rickon piped up in his cheery voice while he skipped towards them, "But Father! We were just playing a game. What was it called?"

"Tag." I answered, but their eyes begged for further explanation. "It's a game where you chase each other around and try not to get caught."

"Yes, and we taught Shaggy Dog a trick, see!" He called the little wolf, covered with mud, over to him and pointed to the grown. Shaggy Dog plopped down. "See! We had fun, Father. Not like with the other maids."

"Ned, This girl is practically a wildling," Catelyn sneered over to me, "Just look at her. We can't have her teaching Rickon this ill-mannered-"

Ned started to whisper to Catelyn. I couldn't hear what he was saying at all. I couldn't even read his lips, and normally I am good at that sort of thing. Honestly, I couldn't blame Catelyn for hating me. I was a foreigner with little to offer, and now a drain on their household. She was a classic mama-bear type, unlike my own mother. Of course she wouldn't be happy that I brought her youngest back home looking like some sort of mud monster. I had gotten too caught up with trying to be the kind of maid Rickon wanted. He was gesturing to Rickon now, who had moved back to my side and was holding onto my dress-skirt. Rickon looked up to me, and I knew I had done a good job this afternoon. We had fun. Kids are supposed to have fun.

I jumped slightly when Ned spoke, "You're the first maid the boy approves of." He was smiling? Not a lot, just a small upturn of the corners of his mouth. I could barely see it from over here. "You will clean up your mess, including the wolf pup," he paused only briefly, "as well as any other messes you two might make in the coming years."

I bowed slightly, "Thank you, my lord."


It had taken all the way until dinner to clean us all up after our morning fun. I didn't mind the spring water from the hot springs, but cleaning our clothing was a nightmare. I missed my Tide, and the little rinky-dink washer and dryer in my apartment. I missed getting to use the spin cycle, not be the spin cycle. But after a lot of hard work, and some surprise help from Rickon, it was all done before it was time for him to join his family in a meal. Rickon asked me to help him, so I cut the bits of venison up, and sat beside him as he told his brother Bran all about our day. It was interesting to see the Stark clan together. I finally got to see Sansa and Arya, but they were sitting too far for me to introduce myself.

Once dinner was finished, I escorted Rickon to bed, where I had a brief encounter with Catelyn. Before I could apologize for everything she sent me off to the kitchen. I took that as a good sign that she might be warming up to me.

I had only just received a small ladle of stew and a stale piece of bread when a voice came from behind me.

I felt a finger poke the left side of my face. "You missed a spot."

"What?" I turned around flustered, but still clutching my portion of food like it was a bowl of molten gold. It was just Robb. "Oh, sorry."

"Thought I would check to see if you survived your first day with my brother, and it looks like you have." He was smiling at me. My eyes darted down to look at my food. "Only barely, though."

I could feel him looking at me, too intently. I felt a wave of red heat roll up from my neck to the crown of my head. My words came out strained. "It's normal for his age." I coughed a few times, daring to look back at him for a few seconds while I continued, "I wish I was that full of energy all the time."

"I don't think there are many maids who would be so comfortable in the mud."

"It's what he wanted to do." I was suddenly very aware of my shoes. I had changed since the morning, and these shoes had less room in them. They were pinching at my toes. Wait. I was going to say something else. What was I going to say? The heat flared up again, worse this time, as I looked him dead in the eyes. I managed a small, if not incredibly awkward smile as I spoke, "I think maybe we will try swords tomorrow; do you know if there are any small wooden ones we could start with?"

"I'm sure you'll find something."

There was silence as the cook left the kitchen. We were alone. Oh no. We're alone.

I blurted out the first thing that popped into my mind, "Your mother really doesn't like me. Is there anything I can do to try to fix that?"

He laughed, "Ask Jon. He's been trying to get in her good graces since he was born."

"I might have to do that." I managed a more natural smile, and adjusted the food I was holding. I think that was when Robb first noticed I was actually carrying food.

"Well, I don't want to disturb your meal any longer." He gave a little bow, which confused me to the point that the bottom of my stomach shot up slightly and my legs decided to suddenly be jello. "Sleep well, Dahlia."

I bowed back and replied, voice catching in my throat, "You too, my Lord."

He smiled at me for a few more seconds, almost as though he was going to say something. I don't think I could've handled him saying something. Our conversation had already left me feeling like a ridiculous schoolgirl, or something even more pathetic. Thankfully he left and I was able to sit down on the bench just long enough to situate myself.

I took the first bite of stew. It was… different, but I was hungry.

I had only gotten a few large bites down before Ned marched into the kitchen, and immediately he started talking to me, "I've spoken to Catelyn about what you'd said about Bran, about how you are here to save us. She is not convinced, but I must know what you have seen."

This was definitely Eddard Stark, super intense Lord of Winterfell who didn't see any point in being tactful. He wants to know exactly what I don't want to think about, not after my day with Rickon. He wants to know about his family being ripped apart.

He pulled a stool from the other side of the room and sat dead in front of me. "Tell me what you've seen for my family."

What could I possibly say? 'Hey dude, everyone in your family is going die, and the ones that don't die will never see each other again.' Or maybe, 'Yo Ned, how attached are you to your head?' There is absolutely no way to say what I need to say without sounding totally ridiculous. What do I say? What have I seen?

"I've seen the bad moon rising," I let some Creedence Clearwater Revival slip out. The look on Ned's face was blank. I looked back down to my stew, "I don't want to say."

He leaned closer, his tone harsh, "I must know. I have done you many kindnesses since you've arrived in my land. Tell me."

I let out a big sigh before I let it drop, "Death and separation." His face was still blank save for the concern in his eyes. "So much happens," I started with the first tragedy, "Bran falls."

"Does he," I could see pain in his face as he spoke, "does he die?"

"No, but he won't walk anymore." I waited a moment for him to process before I continued, "King Robert names you his Hand. The King dies. You get beheaded at the Sept of Baelor. Sansa is held hostage, and Arya is lost." He leaned back, his hand pushing the hair from his face. I didn't know what else to say. What is there to say? The words wheeze out of my mouth, "It only gets worse from there."

"I hope Cat is right." He straightened up before he spoke again, "But it is best to err on the side of caution, if there's even a chance."

I sat up straighter too, and there is conviction in my voice now. I have no idea where it came from, but every word sounds like a word I would die by. "I will help you. There has to be a way to stop it all from happening."

I can see the ghost of a smile on his face for a moment, then it is gone. "Enough talk of this for now." There was a pause before my stomach took over. I shoveled in a few more bites of stew before ripping off a part of the stale bread and nibbling on it. He seemed to have relaxed some, it was almost unnerving. When he spoke again, it almost feels like he's talking to a friend. "You have enthralled two of my boys."

I couldn't help but smile. Today was a success: a muddy, tiring success. "Rickon's a great kid."

"He's as wild as the North. I'm glad you two are getting along."

He looked at me then, like before. "Is there something else, my lord?"

"I must apologize." He leaned away slightly as he spoke, and I think he went somewhere else for a moment. Then he continued, "It's just nice to feel like she's almost alive."

"Oh." Lyanna. I almost forgot. This must be hard for him.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia of House Emerson."

I looked back to my stew. "No, I'm sorry. I've never lost anyone before, not until now. I can't imagine what it would be like to see someone who looks like them. Is there anything I can do? This can't be easy."

"Would you mind if I sat with you while you ate?"

"Of course not, my lord."

We sat together for a while, even after I finished my stew and cleaned my bowl. It wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Actually it was nice, like what I imagine a normal father and daughter might be like if they were just sitting. It almost felt like family.


Author's Note: Hello! I'm sorry about the wait, but here you go! New chapter, to be followed soon by more new chapters. Please review, give me your feedback, give me your rants; I love that. It is fic-writer fuel! Also, a big shout out to my beta-reader! You're the best, hands down.