Telling Stannis about her magic is surprisingly easy and he takes it in stride far better then Ostara would have thought. There's no jealousy, no demands for her to teach him her tricks, no yelling about how it must be a joke. He merely stares at her and the flower petals that she has transformed into little butterflies for a long, long moment and sighs.

"I won't tell Robert." He says it with a resignation that makes Ostara frown before she smiles and moves to hug her brother.

"Thank you, Stannis." She breaths against his shoulder.

He'll be taller then her one day, he's already taller by at least a quarter of an inch but Ostara suspects he's going to be at least six feet,but he's got a ways to go yet before that happens. Ostara isn't sure how she feels about growing up. If she's right about her assumptions then she was brought here and given this life because something bad is coming. He always seems to place her where something bad is coming or happening already. Hermione had lived in a world filled with war. Renaehra has lived and died in the Doom. The other lives she's lived are lost to her but Ostara doubts she lived peacefully and died in her sleep.

So what does that mean for her? For Stannis and Robert? Will they be sucked into whatever's coming too? Ostara hopes not. The thought of either brother going to war, and possibly dying in it, makes her stomach twist painfully. As much as she wishes she could protect them, ensure their safety for the rest of their lives, they'll be men grown one day and Ostara knows what happens when people try meddling in things they shouldn't meddle in.

Fate has a funny way of overcoming obstacles and scissor kicking you in the throat if you try to avoid or outwit her.

With a small frown Ostara pulls away and cancels the spell, watching passively as the butterflies turn back to browning rose petals and float away on the lazy morning breeze.

"Can you spell my boots? I want to run faster then Robert." Stannis says after a moment which causes Ostara to laugh.

"He'll only find something else to tease you about, Stannis."

Petulantly, her brother crosses his arms and kicks the dirt before muttering, "He's already mocking Proudwing."

Ah yes, the little injured goshawk that Stannis has adopted.

"Well, he's a prat. Ignore him."

"Uncle Harbert says I should abandon him." Stannis whispers.

"Don't you dare! Uncle Harbert and Robert are just bullies. I think Proudwing is lovely."

"He can't even fly."

"He can too! And very well for that matter."

Stannis offers her a thin smile but shrugs sadly. "I don't know what to do."

"Like I said, Proudwing is yours... You claimed him, you kept him healthy, he is your responsibility. You cannot abandon him because of something others think of as a weakness."

"Isn't it?"

"No. No, Proudwing is just special."

"Tell that to Robert."

Ostara smiles and moves to dump her shoulder against her brothers. When he looks at her Ostara wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"Do you want me to? I'll use big words and everything. Confuse him until he's forgotten all about Proudwing." Ostara snorts as she steps around Stannis to begin making her way back to the Keep.

"Robert hates big words." Stannis says.

"Exactly."

Her brother's smile is softer, sweeter even, then the sharp stretch that usually overtakes his mouth whenever he smiles. It makes the tension in Ostara's stomach ease a bit. The tension leaves her all together when Stannis darts passed her, little hand shoving playfully against her shoulder in the seconds he's lingering by her side. Ostara doesn't think, just laughs and gathers her skirts and chases after her brother.

~X~

Crookshanks had been a good familiar. Very intelligent and very loyal. He hadn't been the most attractive thing but he'd chosen Hermione Granger and she'd chosen him and it had been a good like they'd lived together. Ostara wonders if the part-kneazle would recognize her now. Has she changed so much from what she used to be that her beloved cat would growl and claw at her?

Gods, the thought of it makes Ostara sad.

She'd never much thought of having a familiar in this world, in this life, nor had she considered a pet. Not for lack of wanting one but more for the fact that Ostara's never actually considered it and the possibilities. Steffon and Cassana would likely be extremely open to the idea of her getting something like a cat or a dog, maybe even a bird of some sort, and would just as likely go out of their way to acquire her the very best of whatever domesticated animal her little heart might desire.

Ostara just tells them that she's perfectly content not keeping a pet and after a time her parents leave her be.

Apparently, someone didn't get the picture.

He comes in the middle of the night and wakes her with a wave of something that feels like ice water seeping into the spaces between her bones. Ostara glares at him and remains curled in her bed even after he's materialized a very fine cloak the likes of which Ostara's never seen before and tossed it onto her bed.

Come.

"You know, if we're going to keep doing this I'm going to need something to call you," Ostara mutters grumpily as she swings her legs out of the bed. "I can't keep calling you That Fucker... As therapeutic as it is."

The hooded being pauses for a long moment before bowing his head, Mephistopheles.

"You're kidding right? Mephistopheles?" Ostara cannot believe this. "I'm not calling you that. Why would you want to be called that?"

I like his work.

"He literally just collects souls of the damned. You do that every day." The being just stares at her and so Ostara huffs out an annoyed breath and gives in, "Fine. Phil. Does that would for you?"

Phil... Yes.

"Alright then," Ostara pulls the heavy cloak around her and pulls up the hood so it covers her hair.

Wherever he's taking her must be important because Ostara gets the feeling that he's so very excited, boyish almost in his exuberance... All internal feeling of course, on the outside Phil is nothing but stoic and composed. Good for him. Ostara hopes he gets a fucking ulcer. He'd certainly deserve it. Because it's what? Three in the morning and he's dragging her out of bed to go on, apparently, some great adventure.

Fuck that.

Snatching her wand from under her pillow Ostara frowns.

"Well?" She asks and the hooded being merely reaches out to take hold of her arms before pulling her into shadowy nothing.

When the world materialized again Ostara retches and retches until she's left to heave up nothing. It hadn't been like apparition like Ostara had been foolish enough to expect. Once she finished heaving she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and straightens.

Come.

Ostara doesn't protest, just follows the creature as he makes his way across the rocky terrain. He's taken them to a mountain, and judging from the temperature Ostara would bet decent money on them currently trekking through the Mountains of the Moon. She sticks close to the being, Phil, as he leads her through the shadowed passes. They stop just before the opening of a small cave.

Go.

She does. Not even needing to hunker down as she makes her way deeper and deeper into the mountain, figuring that if he wanted her dead then she'd have been dead a long time ago. Children get sick and die all the time, why would he even need to put in the effort of taking her from Storm's End? Ostara grits her teeth as she presses on.

drip, drip, drip.

Ostara pauses, wand aloft, but it's just condensation dripping from the rocky ceiling above her and so Ostara decides not to linger.

Eventually the tunnel flares out into a larger chamber, it's warmer here and darker too, which forces Ostara to summon up pretty white light that hovers at the tip of her wand as she moves deeper into the chamber.

Something was living here at one point. There are bones scattered about and a pile of shed fur pushed into a into the back of the chamber, there's even a bit of blood on the ground but it's long since dried and... Something presses against her foot. Ostara jerks away from whatever it is and moves to point her wand at whatever the offending creature may be.

It's not anything dangerous, Ostara comes to realize when she sees the little shadowcat cub mewling softly, not at the moment anyway. The poor little beast's eyes aren't even open yet.

"Hello, did I hurt you?" Ostara asks, kneeling to scoop the cub into her arms.

There's no guilt, no wondering if the mother will come for it because it's so obvious that this one was left behind. It's half starved already, too thin and too light in her arms and suckling desperately at the skin of her hand. She checks to make sure none of the poor thing's litter mates were left behind, and upon finding nothing but bones and shed fur Ostara leaves with the cub tucked carefully in her arms.

Phil is waiting for her when she exits the cave.

"Take me home please, Phil." She says to the being and this time she doesn't retch when phil deposits her back into her bedroom.

~X~

"Where did you get it?" Her mother demands the next morning when Ostara enters the great hall with her new familiar tucked in her arms.

"I found him." Ostara offers as she pours some milk into a bowl so that she can dip a cloth into it to feed her shadowcat.

"Yes, but where?"

Ostara just shrugs.

She's going to need to name him... Something strong. Something that reminds her of another time. And memories of a wild haired man taller then life dances in her mind. A man with warm eyes and gentle hands and a laugh that used to make Hermione's eardrums ache.

Rubeus, she'll name him Rubeus.

"Ostara... You must understand that this is not a kitten." Her mother sounds panicked and the sound of it makes Ostara's stomach clench.

"I know, but he was alone and he was starving." Ostara offers the milk saturated cloth to the cub and watches as he suckles greedily for a moment before turning back to her mother.

Cassana Baratheon is wearing a hairnet peppered in topaz and amber to match the embroidery on her gown. She looks lovely, even with the fear that's creeping into her eyes and causing her mouth to pinch unpleasantly.

"Darling girl, you can't... What I mean to say is that... It's not safe for you keep him."

"But he's so little! Please mother, let me keep him! I'll train him so well you'd never know he wasn't a domesticated cat!"

Her mother begins to shake her head and Ostara fears she'll have to resort to actual begging and crying to convince her mother to let her keep the shadowcat. Thankfully, her father steps in before such an action can be taken. Reaching out to smooth his hands over Cassana's slender shoulders and place a chaste kiss to her cheek before smiling softly at her.

"Oh, let her keep it Cas. What harm can it do?" Her father asks.

"None at the moment." Her mother retorts acidly.

Her father's eyes are warm blue pools as he looks at his wife. "A deal then. If the beast grows and he begins to show signs of aggression then I will handle it personally."

By handle it her father means he will kill Rubeus and it seems to put her mother at ease enough for her to accept his bargain.

"What's his name then?" Cassana asks, sounding oddly resigned.

There's no hesitation, no split second to think about it, Ostara just says, "Rubeus." and her parents return to their meal. Ostara makes sure to leave before Robert arrives for breakfast and goes to find Stannis instead of heading off to her lessons with the Septa.

~X~

Rubeus grows fast in the months that follow, by the time Lord Arryn has sent a raven agreeing to foster Robert at the Vale Rubeus is hovering in the space between Ostara's hip and her knee and continues to grow. He'll be about the size of a tiger, Ostara suspects, or at least a lion. He'll be strong too, he's strong already, and while it makes her mother slightly nervous Ostara absolutely loves it.

She loves Rubeus.

Silly and sweet and gentle Rubeus who sleeps at the foot of her bed and watches over her from Stannis' side when she does her magic. He is a good familiar, Ostara couldn't have asked for anything else and she is so very thankful for his company... Even if it does mean she's become something of a source of awe among the people of Storm's End and some of the other houses.

Word travels quickly in Westeros it would seem.

Ostara's going to have to keep and eye on that. Wouldn't want anyone catching sight of her doing magic and run off to tell the entire bloody country. It wouldn't be good for anyone if that happened and so Ostara will just have to be more careful about when and where she practices her magic. So she's taken to practicing in the godswood, no one really worships the Old Gods here and fortunately enough for Ostara the small wooded area is always empty at night.

Rubeus tends to curl up among the roots of the weirwood tree to watch her, eyes a soft sort of burnt honey color that glows in the darkness. It would be terrifying to anyone else being watched by him. Ostara's not afraid though, more annoyed then anything really. He's been staring at her for the past bloody hour.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Ostara asks, looking up from the neatly transfigured trunk.

It's similar to the one she'd kept when she'd gone to Hogwarts, but smaller and with more compartments on the inside for storage. The chest under her bed, while good for hiding things, isn't necessarily the best thing to store items in. This way Ostara can hide her journals and her own notes and whatever transfigured items she wants. There's also a compartment to store potions when ostara manages to get the ingredients.

Most of the plants or animal parts she'll need to make potions ingredients can be found on Westeros or if nothing else they can be ordered and bought from places like Essos or Braavos. Unfortunately there are a good few potions ingredients Ostara can't get in this world, which means that the next time she sees Phil she's going to have to put in a personal request for him to, at the very least, give her the resources to grow or breed her own ingredients.

Ostara's not even worried about being caught at this point either.

Caves and abandoned keeps litter the whole of Westeros and Ostara can still apparate, maybe not right this second but when she's a bit older and her magic's had more time to settled into her body then there won't be anything stopping her.

"How would you like to visit Harrenhal? I'm sure it wouldn't be too terribly difficult to ward the ruins... Besides, I should think ghost stories and rumor would be enough to keep people away, hm?"

Rubues just stares at her for a long moment before licking his maw and curling to rest his head on his paws so that he might rest comfortably among the tree roots and the grass and the five pointed stars that have fallen from the branches above their head. Ostara rolls her eyes but closes up her trunk and shrinks it down so she can slip it into her stocking before moving to gather up her familiar so that she can carry him back to the keep.