𝗔 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗜𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲
𝗔 𝗚𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀
𝗦𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝟭 𝗘𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝟭
𝟮𝟵𝟴 𝗔𝗖
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗪𝗢𝗟𝗙
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲
"𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴"
The lands of the North awoke to a near wintry sight. A fresh layer of frost had coated the grounds of Winterfell as a light snowfall began cascading down over the castle. Fires were being lit early in the morning all throughout the castle's many chambers. From her tower window Rosalind could see some of the courtyards through her diamond-shaped viewpoint. Looking out across the grounds she recognized the stables and wondered if her Lord Father would send a hunting party out to collect game from the newly made snow tracks. She hoped that he would as Rosalind dearly loved hunting and it was one of the few activities she and her twin brother, Robb, could enjoy together. Not to mention she was the best rider out of all Lord Stark's children and his ward; Theon Greyjoy.
At the age of seventeen she was the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. Rosalind was close with all of her siblings including her half-brother Jon, much to her mother's disdain. Since Jon was a bastard Lady Catelyn resented him terribly and the animosity was no hidden secret. She often felt similar to Jon in the sense of certain things being withheld from him just because his mother was not Lady Catelyn in the same manner that other things were withheld from herself because she was a lady. Rosalind paid his bastardry no mind as the four were frequently together even though she thought that Theon's unruly arrogance was unbecoming. She challenged the Greyjoy heir countless times to archery contests and always enjoyed being able to rival his gifted ability with a bow. As for Robb the two of them were exceedingly close and took great interest in helping run Winterfell and looking after the younger Stark children.
Like the direwolf of their house's sigil the six Stark children were a wild pack all their own- even when they did get along. In regards to Rosalind's two sisters she loved them both dearly. Sansa was four years younger than Ros and Arya two years younger than Sansa. While being the oldest daughter Rosalind was expected to be a fine example of a young lady. Lady Catelyn was often disappointed in that regard. When she was seven, Sansa was three and already a lady as their mother liked to say. Rosalind wrote it off as the immense desire to have a proper daughter after realizing the shortcomings and failure of the firstborn. Despite this Ros had no ill will towards her younger sister. The two of them bonded over music and embroidery as Rosalind liked to use the pelts of animals she had slain to make cloaks. In regards to her youngest sister, Arya, Rosalind shared more similarities with her than any other sibling. Both of them took after their father's dark brown hair and grey eyes though Arya had more of the Stark's long facial features. The six year age difference was hardly ever grounds for annoyance between the two, much unlike the discord between Arya and Sansa. Lady Catelyn had tried to prevent Arya from becoming another wolf blooded child but Rosalind knew that she was the wildest of the three.
Over the years her Lady Mother had made arrangements to send Rosalind south to be the ward of another Great House. The most popular contenders had been her aunt Lady Lysa Arryn in the Eyrie, Lady Selyse Baratheon of Dragonstone, and Lady Olenna Tyrell in Highgarden. From the stepping stone of being a ward within Highgarden, Ros imagined that her mother desired to marry her to the heir Willas Tyrell who was eight years her senior. Or maybe to the third son, Loras, who was closer to Rosalind's age as the middle son, Garlan, was already married. Some of the other candidates were with her mother's Tully relatives at Riverrun and with Queen Cersei Lannister in King's Landing since King Robert Baratheon was her father's longtime friend. The Crown Prince was a year or so younger than Rosalind. Lord Eddard refused this option outright despite her mother's protests that it would be the best place to show Rosalind to potential suitors for marriage. Quietly Rosalind was relieved at this as the pressure to perform well in the capitol caused her stress. She also knew that Sansa much desired a prince to marry and the King's had three sons of similar age to Sansa.
When Ros was truthful with her own thoughts she had expected her parents to announce a betrothal or otherwise engagement last year when the twins celebrated their sixteenth nameday. It had been a grand week at Winterfell to celebrate their coming of age. In Westerosi traditions they were a man and woman grown now and all the northern lords and ladies had been invited. Even their extended family members in Riverrun and the Eyrie were given an invitation. King Robert was unable to attend but sent Lord Stark gifts in his stead. Winterfell had been in a joyously busy state when the various parties began arriving such as the Houses Bolton, Reed, Mormont, Manderly, Glover, Umber, Tallhart, and several others. Rosalind had been most excited to welcome the heir of Bear Island; Dacey Mormont, whom she admired. She also enjoyed seeing Meera Reed again as the two of them were both fine hunters. Despite the lively fortnight Ros had been secretly afraid that it would end with her being sent off to marry a southern lord. She loved the North and Winterfell most of all. She wished that it could be her home forever, like how it would become Robb's one day. Rosalind was fond of the land and the way the northerners looked after each other in winter time. Most of all she had no desire to leave her family.
'Rosalind! Come quick, they're at it again!"
She jumped at the sudden appearance of Beth Cassel. The door to her bedchambers had been flung open and the daughter of Winterfell's master-at-arms stood before her. Rosalind realized that Beth had sprinted to her as her curly auburn hair was untidy and her breaths were shallow. Ros said nothing as she turned away from the window and hurried out the door. Moving town the spiral staircase she headed towards their bedchambers. Upon entering Sansa's room Rosalind was greeted with an all too familiar sight.
Before her was Sansa clutching one of her recently made gowns. The outer layer of fabric was torn nearly half way up and had a dozen smaller rips. Sansa was sobbing and shouting at Arya, who was across the room, while her best friend Jeyne Poole comforted her. Rosalind could easily imagine what transpired before this breaking point. With the eldest Stark sister's arrival both Sansa and Arya started to explain their side of the story.
"Look at my dress- she's ruined it! Arya, you spoil everything!" Sansa cried uncontrollably.
"That's not true! Sansa wouldn't let go" Arya protested heatedly.
Rosalind sighed before taking a closer look at the dress. It was a bad gash but it could be mended. She expected that Jeyne and Sansa had both taunted Arya to provoke her prior to the fabric being caught in the middle. Jeyne was a pretty girl with brown hair and matching eyes. Her father, Vayon Poole, was the steward of Winterfell. Sansa and Jeyne were especially close and often shared a bed together. They were the same age and Rosalind knew that Sansa often wished Jeyne was her sister instead of Arya. Beth Cassel was also a part of Sansa's retinue despite being closer in age to Arya. Rosalind could not remember who first started it but now the other girls would call Arya 'Horseface', and Jeyne often neighed at her.
"Sansa," Rosalind said calmly. She bent down, hovering over the floor to be at eye level with her younger sister. "Sansa, look at me." She spoke again, being patient and feeling some relief when the watery blue eyes did meet her gaze. Her pouts were becoming infrequent along with her tears starting to dry. "You and I both know that this dress is mendable. Just think of all the ways you can add embroidery to it, this light blue shade could be complimented nicely with some silver snowflakes and other designs stitched into it." Rosalind comforted her and hoped that reassuring her superior sewing skills would ease the upset. Sansa sniffed and nodded. Rosalind smiled before turning to her youngest sister.
"Arya, let us go for a ride around the castle." She said, holding out her hand. Arya's grey eyes lit up at the prospect. Hand in hand they started to leave Sansa's room.
"Wait! You're not going to punish her? She's the one who ripped it." Jeyne spoke up in disgruntlement. Ros paused, surprised it took her so long to ask.
"If you would like Jeyne, I can tell my Lady Mother what happened here. Or we can keep this one quiet as I doubt you can honestly tell me you had nothing to do with it."
With no other rebuttal Rosalind led Arya away and they headed down the stairs. She did not see the point in mutually punishing both of them when they all contributed to the outburst in some manner. Better to let it pass unannounced and be water under the bridge. She would help Sansa with the sewing later after she had fully settled down. Arya on the other hand would need immediate appeasing. Ros recognized that the youngest Stark girl was regularly blamed for her sister's misfortune. Sansa being surrounded by budding ladies who fawned over her did not help matters. Jon was affectionate to Arya though Lady Catelyn disliked his interactions. Initially Ros had hoped that Beth would become a close friend to her but alas she had been drawn to the glamorous circle around Sansa.
Together they arrived at the courtyard. Rosalind paused at the soothing sight of flurries drifting down. A few servants passed by them and greeted the Stark girls. Ros continued to lead Arya over to the stables where the master of horse, Hullen, would be. She knew that Arya was a promising rider, much better than Sansa was, but she had come to resent it due to the dreaded Horseface nickname. Rosalind hoped to encourage Arya's horsemanship so that they may go on more frequent outings together. She often wished that her youngest sister had an interest in archery so that they may bond more in hunting. Arya only had eyes for swordplay, a notion which Rosalind was all too familiar with. As they neared the stables the scent of horses made her smile.
"Ros, why does Sansa hate me?" Arya asked distantly. They paused just outside the stable entryway. Rosalind knew the answer was not going as simple as Arya would like to hear. The younger Stark sisters were polar opposites and their close ages led them to combat each other repeatedly. Not to mention Arya liked to instigate Sansa into a meltdown and Sansa was commonly mean to Arya.
"Sansa does not hate you." She began, noticing the look of disbelief on Arya's face. "The two of you bring out the worst in each other, most often on purpose. You both have your different strengths, your contrasting views about a lady's expectations also drive you two apart. I think that one day you both will grow and come to appreciate one another. Besides, you could both benefit from being more like the other." Rosalind finished and realized a hair too late that Arya did not take her words as intended.
"I'll never be like her! You don't even want to be and Sansa's far more ladylike than you!"
Rosalind never broke her eye contact with Arya. She held Arya's gaze with icy grey eyes and kept her irritation in check before speaking. Ros watched as Arya's expression changed from an outburst to regret. Her personal resentment at being forced to live a lady's lifestyle was a daily battle for her. It drove her mad to see Robb, Jon, Theon, and even Bran get to practice with swords, sparring and training all day. Rosalind had been born a few minutes after Robb and it was her own damn fault for not being identical to him in physique. Everyday Rosalind had to wear dresses and practice her sewing when she wanted to wear tunics and trousers all the while swinging a sword alongside her brothers. Her being allowed to practice archery was the result of spending years pleading to their parents. She fought Lady Catelyn to be permitted to join hunting parties. Rosalind did all of this knowing that one day she would be sent away to marry a lord and give him heirs.
"Milady, milady." A man's voice spoke. Rosalind turned around to see Joseth, one of the senior stablehands walking up to them. She noticed his daughters Bandy and Shyra trailing behind.
"Hello Joseth, may we trouble you to fetch two horses for us?" Rosalind asked politely.
"S'no trouble at all milady. Would you like to saddle the horses yourselves?"
"Yes, thank you." She responded and watched as the stick-thin man nodded and turned away. Ros appreciated that he remembered her preferences when riding. The twin girls were close to Arya's age but the youngest Stark daughter never showed any serious interest when playing with them. Glancing over her shoulder Rosalind gathered that Arya had simmered enough to move past their near argument.
The lowborn girls came out from the tack room with bridles and grooming brushes. Shortly after their father returned, leading two horses on either side into the yard and tied them to a post. At the sight of Rosalind's personal steed her eyes lit up. Her horse was a garron palfrey mixed stallion. She also often rode a dray for casual affairs, the large plow horse was one of her favorites. One day she longed to see a prized Dornish sand steed and a destrier. The third horse Ros had was a pretty dark bay colored mare, Lady Catelyn insisted that a proper lady ride a well tempered mount. Her mixed breed stallion was a blue roan colored with a black mane, tail, stockings, and face markings.
Grabbing one of the brushes Ros greeted her horse and began brushing. Dust and dirt littered his coat and Ros watched as Arya followed suit with the chestnut gelding. She pet the blue roan as she went, his dark eyes patiently waiting. Once he was properly groomed she began tacking up. The saddle blanket was freshly washed and she fitted the saddle overtop. Tightening all his straps Rosalind finished the girth and looked over to see if Arya needed help. She seemed to be getting on alright so Ros grabbed the bridle and held the bit in place to feed it to her horse. Obediently he opened his mouth to let the bridle in and she slipped the halter over his ears. Fastening the straps she turned to Arya.
Her sister had adequately saddled the gelding. The older horse was being stubborn and refusing to take the bridle. Ros gently moved her hand to scratch under the gelding's throat, he started to relax his jaw and Arya was able to get the bit in. Arya smiled and Ros led both horses to the nearby mounting block. Arya was still too short to reach the stirrups from the ground. Rosalind held the gelding steady as Arya hopped up and handed the reins to her. Once she was settled Ros turned to her own horse and hoisted herself up into the saddle.
"Where would you like to ride?" Ros asked Arya, letting her lead the way.
"Do we have to stay within the castle walls?" Arya asked, looking up towards the inner wall.
"Yes," she reminded her. "You know father and mother allow us free reign around the castle. If we wanted to go beyond the wall we would have to wait for a whole guard patrol to gather and accompany us."
Rosalind suspected that Arya was hoping to go past the castle so that she might be late or altogether miss her sewing lesson with Septa Mordane this morning. The other younger ladies, including Sansa, Jeyne, Beth, and a couple others would be meeting to practice their needle work and it was expected that Arya would join them. Rosalind was permitted to skip the group lessons as she was learning other educational subjects from Maester Luwin. Her skill with a needle was also suitable enough to please Lady Catelyn.
Letting Arya lead the way Ros urged her horse to trot on to follow. The blue roan stallion enthusiastically broke into a fast paced trot. Careful not to overtake the gelding Ros held back on the reins. She sat comfortably, leaned back in the saddle and watched as Arya weaved around the various courtyards. When the grounds were wide enough they rode side by side. Their conversation began when Arya challenged Rosalind to who could name the most Targaryen dragons. Ros was easily defeated as she could only name Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, and Silverwing. She very well knew that Arya had long been fascinated by the history of the dragons in Westeros. In her boasting Arya was able to name Quicksilver, Vermithor, Dreamfyre, Meleys, Caraxes, Syrax, Seasmoke, Sunfyre, Tessarion, Vermax, Moondancer, Stormcloud, and Grey Ghost. Once Ros turned the quiz to naming house sigils she had the advantage.
Together they rode around the castle in a loose circle. They were happy as each took their turn setting the subject for casual knowledge quizzes. The snow flurries were beginning to thicken and fat flakes were falling to the frost covered earth. All too soon they had made a full lap of Winterfell's grounds and Rosalind knew that Arya needed to head off to Septa Mordane. Ros escorted her to the Great Hall entry doors, partially to spend more time with Arya and to also ensure that she actually joined the other ladies. Arya bid her goodbye and handed over the reins before dismounting. Rosalind watched as she went inside before turning to lead the gelding back to the stable. She did not feel satisfied in riding yet and wished to prolong the morning.
She made her way back to the stables and the master of horse, Hullen, greeted her and took the gelding back to its stall. Ros thanked him and continued on another lap of the castle's grounds. With a gentle kick Rosalind brought the stallion to a smooth canter. Sauntering around the grounds she was greeted respectfully by some of the servants who were out and about. The layout of the castle was quite extensive and ingrained into Ros's memory from spending seventeen years exploring. Though her wanderings were contained to having both feet on the ground she often spotted Bran climbing high along the walls. In some way she admired him for his determination and the unique views only Bran and the ravens saw. On the other hand Ros did share some worries that he might fall or otherwise become injured. Ros remembered one day Maester Luwin had made a model boy out of pottery and threw it against a stone wall in the hopes of deterring Bran from venturing up again. He was unsuccessful and secretly Ros was relieved that sometimes their mother became distracted in antagonizing her in favor of harping on Bran's climbing.
Rosalind weaved through the dozens of courtyards and open areas. When she passed by the glass gardens she noticed that the winter roses were starting to bud... winter is coming, she thought. The blue flowers were some of her favorites and she often chose gowns that matched the icy blue petals. Often she wore riding clothes in browns, greys, and furs. The grey and white colors of her house were comforting and blue seemed a natural fit for ice. Nearing the forge she saw Mikken, the blacksmith outside stringing a bow. Realization dawned on her as she cantered over to him. She hoped this was the finished bow she had requested.
At the sound of hooves approaching the blacksmith turned around and his excellent work spoke for itself. Rosalind dismounted from her horse and the other forge men respectfully greeted her.
"Milady, I had just thought it finished and meant to send word to you, and yet by the gods here you are." Mikken said, handing her the bow. "If you would like to try it out now I have made a matching quiver full of new arrows."
The wood used was from one of the evergreen trees in Winterfell's godswood. It was unique with steel tip coverings that were fashioned twin direwolves with open jaws that held the bow string. The bow had an elegant recurve shape. Mikken explained to her that he had varnished the body with ironwood resin to make it basically fireproof. He also showed her the matching quiver that was a steel case lined with leather and had fur fitted onto the outer case wall. The quiver was full of arrows and the fletching were dark speckled colored. The blacksmith also gifted her with a new arm bracer and finger guard. The leather on the hand piece was still stiff and would take some time to mold to her fingers. The forearm brace had a thin slate of steel on the outer half while the inner was fitted with new leather. The steel plate was beautifully designed with a full bodied direwolf running. Rosalind was awestruck at the beautiful craftsmanship of the bow.
"Mikken, this is perfect! Thank you, I will be sure to pass on my praise to my father. Thank you!" Rosalind gushed, overwhelmed with it still. She had expressed to the blacksmith that she desired a hunting bow designed with House Stark imagery in mind and Mikken had brought it to life well beyond what she had expected.
"You're too kind Lady Rosalind. It was a pleasure to make for you, it's not everyday we have a skilled archer such as yourself."
Ros slipped the handguard on and wrapped the steel brace to her forearm. Excitement blossomed within her chest as she knocked an arrow. Inhaling slowly she pulled back fully taught on the string and felt the bow's power. Settling for a target her grey eyes found a woodpile across the courtyard. It was several yards away and the new feathering on the arrow felt crisp and firm. Lingering only for a moment she let loose the arrow and watched it cut through the air and landed squarely in a woodblock. She broke out into a large smile and Mikken complimented her fine shot.
"I think now you may give Lord Stark's ward a proper fight now for the best archer in Winterfell!"
She thanked the blacksmith once more before mounting her blue roan horse again. Rosalind slung the quiver over her back and placed the bow on her shoulder. She rode over on the stallion to fetch the arrow from the woodpile. The arrowhead was cleanly embedded in the surface and she pulled it out and was greatly looking forward to trying it out when hunting. She paused after returning the arrow to the quiver and noticed that the snowfall was still steadily growing. Large flakes were falling from the sky and began layering over the ground. Rosalind urged her horse into a canter and rode around the divider wall of the godswood. Often she would enter the woodland to escape her mother's demands and find solace with the old gods of the forest. Unlike Sansa, Rosalind did not hold beliefs with gods of their mother's house, the Faith of the Seven.
Riding around the perimeter she passed by the broken tower and First Keep. She looked at the lichyard quietly as she passed by. The servants of many years were buried there. Distantly Ros heard familiar laughter and headed in the direction of it. As she came around a corner Rosalind saw Robb, Job, and Bran practicing archery in the courtyard. Upon closer inspection she realized it was something of a lesson. Only, Robb and Jon were laughing at Bran's poor aim. Bran was only ten years old so there was not a great expectation for him to be a brilliant archer. However, Theon often taunted the young boy since his own skills were great. Rosalind noticed Theon was not standing among them. Rickon was eagerly sitting back up on a saddle they had laid atop a fence board. He was only six but showed all interest in his older brother's activities. Soon enough Ros expected him to begin daily training with Ser Rodrik Cassel, their master-at-arms.
Bran missed the target again, this time his arrow flying way over the bullseye. All three of his brothers began laughing again and Ros watched as Bran's face fell.
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten? Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."
Rosalind had not noticed their father standing up on the covered bridge. She could not see from underneath and assumed that Lady Catelyn stood beside him. She sat silent and still on the stallion, enjoying her brother's interactions. Bran missed more shots, though some came closer on nearby barrels or the grass. He muttered something under his breath as another round of laughter began.
"Rosalind was not a perfect shot at ten." Robb said to him.
"Don't think too much, Bran."
She perked up at the mention of her name and wondered what Bran had muttered. Jon and Robb began giving him advice on improving. She noticed that they were all too focused on his form to notice her. As indiscreetly as she could manage Ros took up her bow and knocked another arrow. Pulling back firmly she aimed for Bran's target and released her grip.
All four of the boy's heads whipped around in surprise to see that Rosalind had hit the center of the target. Bran gasped in awe at her while the older too smiled. Rosalind bowed in the saddle and walked over to them. Rickon began giggling to himself madly and started helping retrieve all the arrows. Bran pulled Ros's arrow from the target and brought it to her.
"Will I ever be as good with a bow as you are?"
"Maybe, you will certainly surpass Theon though! You have already shown improvement." Ros said beaming down at him. Bran warmed up and began racing Rickon to who could gather the most arrows.
Up above on the walkway Ros heard Ser Rodrik's voice and strained to hear his words. She caught something about the Night's Watch and a deserter and realized what that combination entailed. Seeing a window of opportunity Ros hoped to request a hunting party. She waited patiently for her mother and father to finish speaking. Something was instructed to Theon and this upset Lady Catelyn from what Ros could tell. While the two conversed she noticed Theon telling Robb, Jon, and Bran to saddle their horses. Ser Rodrik appeared and began instructing men for the outing. Seizing the moment she called out.
"Father, may I come too?"
"Rosalind, no! An execution is no place for a lady!" Lady Catelyn scolded her from the bannister.
"Please, father. I have no wish to watch the beheading. I just want to go hunting afterwards." Rosalind persisted, hoping to win her parents over. She waited for a moment and noticed her brothers were almost done cleaning up the stray arrows. Ros was all too smitten with her new bow and longed to try it out in a real hunt. Spurred on by Arya's words earlier Ros hoped to spend more time at Winterfell before an inevitable marriage came along.
"Ros, you may come on the hunt. Beforehand you will stay near the perimeter guards."
"Thank you, father!"
Joyously Rosalind rode over the Hunter's Gate where her brothers and accompanying party were gathering. Ser Rodrik was preparing his horse while his nephew, and captain of the guard, Jory Cassel organized the patrol guards. The commotion was making the horses lively and her own stallion began to become restless. The blue roan swished his tail back and forth in anticipation. Out on the moor the lands of the North stretched wide and far. Rolling hills came and went with dozens of forests scattered between mountains. She remained seated firmly despite the stallion's snorts and nickers.
Soon enough the rest of the men had assembled and lastly Lord Stark appeared with the ancestral greatsword, Ice, at his back. The sword was huge and Rosalind had often seen her father cleaning it in the godswood. At Lord Stark's command they rode out thirty strong with twenty of the household guardsmen along with the kennelmaster, master of horse, Jory, Ser Rodrik, Theon, Bran, Jon, Robb, and Lord Stark. Though they were not taking hunting hounds on this outing due to the dogs being too loud and distracting during an execution, Farlen had been invited to come along for the subsequent hunt. Rosalind enjoyed the party's company and imagined herself galloping over the fields.
Rosalind steered her horse in line with Robb and trotted under the gate beside him. Spilling out of the castle's outer way the horses spread out and Ros found herself riding next to her father. She kept quiet until Theon challenged Robb and Jon to a race to determine the better rider. The boys began hollering as they took off running ahead of the party. Her fingers twitched against the reins and she resisted the instinct to spur her horse on after them. Ros was trying to show her father that she appreciated his allowance of her to come instead of acting like an impulsive child.
"Do you no longer wish to compete against the lads?" Lord Eddard asked with slight surprise.
"No, I thought they would benefit from a head start." She responded with a sly grin.
Her father chuckled and smiled in return. Rosalind clicked her tongue and kicked the sides of the horse. He sprang into gear and took off over the small hill. From behind Lord Stark watched as she quickly overtook the boys. He recalled the day when Catelyn found out her daughter had been riding a stallion and the uproar that ensued. A few moons later and no one could tell now the sex of Rosalind's mount by the way she handled it.
The blue roan flew over the increasing snowfall. His garron heritage provided him with a natural strength to persevere through snow. Theon and her brothers were unaware of the approaching thundering of hooves and scrambled to try and catch up when Rosalind blew past. Theon trailed farther behind and Jon fared well but not close enough. Robb neared his twin and attempted to surpass Ros. He was unsuccessful. Rosalind's hair billowed behind her as snowflakes melted against her face. Summiting the vantage point first she won and kept her horse moving in loose circles around the top to cool down. Regaining her breath the boys caught up and Rosalind looked down on the other side of the glen.
In a circle of large rocks and stones was an old tree trunk that had been smoothed out and shaped to a man's neck. Some of the morning patrol men were already lined up around the stones. The Stark banners flapped high in the wind. Rosalind's breathing returned to normal and she noticed the snowflakes were slowing down. She spotted the Night's Watch deserter, he was obvious in all black. She planned to wait at the top of the hill where she would be far enough away. Ros had no intention to disobey her father's instructions.
Robb congratulated her on the win and continued on down the hillside to the stone circle with Jon and Theon. She remained behind and turned her horse away from the glen and watched as the rest of the party approached. Her father assigned two guards to stay with Ros at the hilltop. She watched as the rest of the party, including Bran, cantered down to the execution. It did bother her that a ten year old boy was permitted to watch another person lose their head but she, who was seven years older, could not just because she was supposed to be a lady.
Rosalind sighed. She worried that her future husband would control her like a broodmare. She did believe that her father would select a good man, Ros feared that they may never come to love each other as her parents did. Lady Catelyn often told her that their marriage was not the original plan and that their love was built over time. Rosalind was too shy to ever admit it but she did sometimes dream of having a good husband who respected her and loved her. In the same dream she was allowed to wield a sword and much more. She wondered what her mother had planned, everyday seemed to draw nearer to a betrothal announcement or a marriage pact. Ros wished that like the deserter below her father would get it over with and reveal to her who the lord was. She knew that both of them were considering various lords. It seemed to be a weekly occurrence for a raven to arrive bearing the sigil of Lord Petyr Baelish.
The letters marked by a mockingbird always had multiple pages attached. Ros had caught glimpses of the words occasionally when she found a moment alone in her parent's bedchambers. She never had the proper time to read thoroughly and Lady Catelyn quickly discovered her snooping. This had done little to deter Rosalind from trying to find out what Littlefinger wrote to her mother in such great detail. Conflict had arisen within her mind. Ros wanted to be involved in choosing her future husband, or rather be allowed to decide entirely on her own. But then she would almost certainly never pick a man for moons to come. She intended to her values in a lord to her mother and father yet, she worried that if she shared it with them they would move faster in securing her a match. Sansa was growing in age too, within a year or two she would have her first flowering and then Arya after her. Ros was aware that she was holding up her sister's future chances at happiness.
Swallowing her personal pride and desire for independence Rosalind resigned to tell her parents that evening that she was willing to discuss suitable lords with them.