DISCLAIMER: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. All intellectual rights belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin. I only own my OCs

IV

Secrets of the Skyes

'In Western lands, the most well-known Faith amongst its people it's the Faith of the Seven, also known simply as The Faith. Members of The Faith worship the Seven Who Are One, a single deity with seven faces. Each of the faces represents a virtue that the believer can pray for. The Father, for justice, The Mother, for mercy, The Warrior, for courage, The Smith, for strength, The Maiden, for the safety of young women, The Crone, for wisdom, and The Stranger, for guidance, although these may vary by region. For example, The Maiden is often prayed for forgiveness of carnal sins, and for good marriages, and the Stranger is often seen as the patron of lost causes and protector of the outcasts and exiled.'

'Furthermore, The Faith itself its thousands of years old, according to the records at The Citadel. In modern days, The Faith is most popular in Westeros, although its origins can be traced back to Essos, where many different Faiths rule over the Free Cities.'

'The Faith of the Seven arose in Essos among the Andals who lived in the hills of Andalos. It is claimed that the Seven walked there in human form. According to The Seven-Pointed Star, the Father brought down seven stars from heaven and placed them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill, the first king of the Andals, to form his crown. The Maid brought forth a girl supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools that became Hugor's first wife. The Mother made her fertile, allowing the girl to bear Hugor him forty-four mighty sons as foretold by the Crone. The Warrior gave each son strength of arms, and the Smith wrought each a suit of iron plate. It is said that when she peered through the door of death, the Crone let the first raven into…'

The creak of an old door made Odette's head whip. It was late in the afternoon and no one other than her —and possibly the Maester— would frequent the library any time in the day. The room was her personal sanctuary for when her mind was buzzing. It wasn't great in size like everything else in the North, but it was packed with books from floor to ceiling, leaving little space to walk through the shelves. There was room left only for a single small table and two chairs. There was also a lamp, for when the reading sessions trailed long, but over the years Odette had learned that if she moved the chair to the window by the door, facing the East Entrance, she could get enough light from the moon after certain hours, when it was high enough that it would shine through the walls, past the Great Keep, because the Library Tower wasn't nearly as tall.

Instead of the Maester, she had to bend her neck to watch the small man that stood by the door, a handful of books under his arm. "Pardon me, ma'am, I did not wish to intrude."

"You don't intrude," she said as she closed the book, folding the top edge of the page before she did. "I was already leaving."

The man walked in, holding himself like he was six feet tall instead of four, and left his small stack of books over the table with little effort. "You were not, you were reading, and I interrupted."

"And then you apologized… Ser," She added as a second thought. "Now that we've established what happened the last few seconds, is there anything I can help you with?" She asked, trying her best to be polite. She didn't know the man, so she assumed he came with the King's lot. And judging by the nice clothes he wore, he was probably someone important. She didn't want to stir things up anymore, especially given the circumstances.

The man looked up to her with curiosity. He had different-colored eyes that gleamed with childlike curiosity. "I don't know, are you the Maester of Winterfell?"

She opened her mouth to tell him something along the lines of 'Do I look like a Maester to you?' but thought better of it. He seemed to be eagerly waiting for a reaction. "Do you need to get these books sorted?" She asked instead.

The man seemed a little disappointed. "Yes, please." She left her book over the table and grabbed the stack, studying the titles and began walking through the shelves. She knew exactly where Septon Chayle liked everything. Shelves sorted by subject, titles by alphabetical order. "It was a nice gesture of them to provide books to my room, I wanted to return them myself before our departure."

She made an approving sound as she wondered whether to put Wonders Made by Man by Lomas Longstrider with Architecture or History. "How thoughtful," Odette said as she finally decided to put it with History. Septon Chayle could scold her later. She placed the rest of the books, five in total, in their respective places. She expected him to be gone, instead, he was inspecting the book over the table, her book, with interest. "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Mind if I borrow this one?"

She unceremoniously snatched the book from his grip. "As a matter of fact, I do." Fuck manners, right? Septa Mondane would be fuming. Her proper lady act didn't last five whole minutes. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Apologies," he said sincerely. "I thought it would be an interesting read for the night. The King is planning our departure for two days from now."

Odette bit her lip, her grip in the book loosening a little. "You can't have that one," she deadpanned, turning her back on him. "but you can borrow this one."

There was a small row of books all the way to the bottom of one of the shelves. Most of them seemed brand new and more colorful than the rest. She took one of them and dusted off the cover. They were taken out frequently, but the Septon dusted the books on the top almost twice a month, so they began to collect dirt sooner rather than later.

The cover was a deep blue, and pretty well-cared for, despite being already second-hand when she got it. She handed it to the man and he inspected the cover. "Secrets of the Skies… Uhm, doesn't say by who."

"Xander the Discoverer, some highborn adventurer from Meereen." She said, drawing the curtains back closed. Septon Chayle had told her that the books could get damaged if the sun hit them directly for too long. "He traveled great distances to draw most of the maps we use nowadays, with nothing but the stars in the sky to show him the way, so he wrote this book to teach others how to use them. He's very theatrical, even in the paper, I'm sure you'll find it entertaining enough."

He turned the book over several times. "It doesn't say the name of the writer."

"It's because it's a copy, I was gifted the original manuscript for my fifteenth name day, but it's in its original language. I had to find this copy to be able to properly translate some of the words, took me two years, but it was worth it."

The man pursed his lips. "Quite strange."

"What is?"

"A northerner that can read High Valyrian."

Odette stepped away from the moon's light so he couldn't see her cheeks turning red. "I was taught the basics when I was a child."

"Didn't know House Mormont was so keen in teaching their younglings about dead Eastern languages."

The girl frowned. She didn't remember introducing herself to the stranger, but she guessed he didn't know introductions either. Much to her surprise, she'd drawn her own conclusions about the small man without even realizing it. Half the stature of a normal man, big forehead, green eyes, and dark blonde hair, paired with a witty personality and smart comebacks for everything, Tyrion Lannister in the flesh lived to his legend.

Feeling slightly offended that she was curious as to how he knew who she was —mind you, she was still a simple ward of a Northern lord, a former bastard of a small house, and all that,— she decided she wouldn't let him have the last laugh.

"I won't ask how you know my name, Lord Tyrion," she said his name pointedly. "all I ask is that you don't be so quick to act like a condescending know-it-all to someone who's doing you a favor."

She returned her chair to its rightful place and walked towards the door, nearly bumping into a man, a few years her senior, with early wrinkles tainting his face. He seemed clearly displeased to see the library so full of people, holding a cup of scolding hot tea on one hand and a thick book on the other. "Septon Chayle, please remind our guest to shut the door behind him."

Her stomach growled softly, so she strolled towards the kitchen in silence. The old man Gage was still up, his big nose hovering over a steaming bowl. "Dot, late for supper, 's always."

One of the few people, aside from the Starks, who called her by her name was the old cook. He was grumpy looking, with long silver hair tied back, stretching his skin until it seemed painful, but still, he let her sneak into the kitchen out of hours to pick at some leftovers. "Don't mind me, I'll just grab something and be out of your way."

"Please, help yourself." He motioned to a tray over the table, a plate with two pieces of juicy-looking chicken, carrots, and potatoes.

Odette noticed the fork and knife still wrapped tight around a clean napkin. "Is it hers?" She asked the cook, passing the tray to rip a chicken leg for herself. She bit and chewed quickly, swallowing with a cup of water.

"She's eaten nothin' since yesterday mornin', m' fraid." He said somberly, slipping spoonfuls of soup a little slower. Meanwhile, Odette took out another small plate, filled it with chicken and bread, and put it on the tray. "What you gonna do?" He asked, putting his spoon down. "You can't force her to eat, kid."

She chews a mouthful of cornbread and answers with a very unintelligible: "Goodnight, Gage."

Bran's chambers weren't the biggest, but they were the highest in the Great Keep. Odette remembered they were an old room where Lady Catelyn and the handmaidens would sew dresses and sing. As Lady Catelyn got older her knees got too tired to climb the eternal set of steps that twirled up towards his chambers.

The door was ajar, and she pushed it with her back to keep the tray in balance. She was yet to spill any of the water over the delicious looking food, and she intended to keep it that way. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness.

Bran's chambers had windows all over. It was a beautiful sight in the early morning, to watch the sun paint the horizon in purple and pink. Lady Catelyn had closed all the windows but one, where the faint howl of the direwolves cut through the night like a melancholic song. The Lady of Winterfell sat by her son's side, holding Bran's pale hand tight. Her hair was sticking all over the place, her braid undoing itself over her shoulder. There were dark circles under her blue eyes, and her lips were cracked and moving softly. Odette assumed she was praying.

The young girl cleared her throat softly, not to startle her. Lady Catelyn, ever the proper woman, barely acknowledged her. She simply moved her eyes and went back to her prayers. "I brought you dinner, my lady," Odette said, walking towards the bed and leaving the tray over the bunk where Bran stored his shoes. "Chicken's pretty good, I thought we could eat together…"

"I told them already, I'm not hungry." The Lady said with a small voice, barely over a whisper.

Odette bit the inside of her cheek, pensively. "Well, I'm famished," she confessed. Tapping the furs that covered Bran's frail legs, making sure she wasn't sitting on them before grabbing the bigger plate and resting it in her lap. The boy seemed in deep slumber, but overall better than she thought he'd look. His cheeks had a healthy color on them and his eyelids moved, as they did when one was dreaming. She saw his chest rise and fall several times before she felt herself relax. "I was in town all afternoon, running errands for Lord Stark. There's a bunch of things that require immediate attention before he leaves the day after tomorrow," Odette studied Lady Catelyn's reaction, but her pretty blue eyes barely moved. It was as if she was talking to a very life-like doll of Catelyn Stark. "And tomorrow…" she continued, cutting a piece of chicken with the utensils and pinching it with the fork, with a small slice of carrot to top. "Well, big day tomorrow, and I can't be much use to anyone on an empty stomach, don't you agree?"

Odette held the fork in the air and waited for Lady Catelyn to turn. The older woman seemed defeated, and Odette's heart clenched in sadness. Blue eyes blinked as she saw the food the young girl was holding. The girl thought she saw the ghost of a smile pulling on Catelyn's mouth, but just for a brief moment.

Without giving her more time to hesitate, Odette pushed the chicken towards her mouth. Lady Catelyn compelled, opening her lips to welcome the food. "Good chicken," she said. "and good tactic."

The ward's eyes gleamed. "I don't know what you mean." She pushed the plate closer to the woman and grabbed a bite of her own bread. She wanted to make sure Lady Catelyn ate at least half of her food, but soon enough the tray was clean, nothing but the bone left behind.

Lady Catelyn's cheeks were pinker, and her voice didn't sound as harsh after she drank a good cup of water. "Thank you." She said finally as Odette piled the plates over the tray.

"You can't keep punishing yourself." She said suddenly. Lady Catelyn turned her head towards her when she heard the severity of her voice. The girl usually spoke in lighthearted tones, usually mocking or dismissive, but this time she was very serious. "You can't help him if you're neglecting your own health. When he wakes up, he'll need you to be strong for him. How do you think he will feel if he wakes up and finds you've been starving yourself because you feel guilty you were not there to keep him from falling?"

Odette regretted her words when she saw Lady Catelyn shrinking, fingers fidgeting with those of his kid. "I don't believe he fell."

"What?"

"Nothing," Lady Catelyn muttered. "You should go and rest. The trip South is long and tasking, you'll need all your strengths."

In the distance, she heard the direwolves still howling to the moon. "I want to visit Castle Black first." she confessed, "to pay a short visit to my grandfather before joining your lord husband and daughters in King's Landing, about a three night's delay, but I'll ride horseback to make up for it. Won't take me more than a fortnight to join them at the Great Keep."

"Castle Black? Is something the matter with the Lord Commander?"

"He's in good health," Odette clarified. "But there are some matters I need to discuss in person, and if I head South, I don't know when will I get the opportunity to do so."

Lady Catelyn nodded. "Has my husband agreed?"

"Yes," she lied. "I just wanted to get your approval as well. Your daughters will travel with the Septa, and I'll join them, later on, to keep a close eye on Arya. He and I agreed there is no place for me in Winterfell since Theon will be staying with Robb and Rickon."

She waited silently, keeping a straight face. She hadn't spoken a word to Lord Stark since her outburst at the Feast, but if she got Lady Catelyn on her side, she was certain Lord Stark wouldn't wish to discuss with her during her state of fragility. She told herself it was not manipulation, she was simply ahead of their permissions. Making things easier for everyone. As if that helped her sleep at night.

The redheaded woman nodded softly. "Is that what you want to tell the Lord Commander?"

"Yes." That was just partial lie.

"Then you must go. And then keep an eye on my daughter. The Gods know she won't listen to the Septa anymore."

Odette huffed. "Has she ever?" She ran a hand through Bran's dark hair. It was dirty from the lack of bathing, but her fingers ran through the strands without much trouble. She suspected Lady Catelyn had thoroughly combed the knots away during her endless vigil.

She missed his eyes very much, but she knew she wouldn't be able to help him if she stayed.

As silently as she could, Odette picked the tray and walked to Lady Catelyn's side to retrieve the empty cup she was still holding onto. No matter how much she tried to distance herself from the family she didn't belong to, she couldn't help but feel angry when she saw Bran's sleeping face and his mother's pained expression.

It was partly the reason she would go to that dreaded place called King's Landing. She needed to get things straight before she did anything else. And she was not about to let another Stark kid be trapped in the intricate web of pain that the royal family seemed to drag everyone into.

As much as she knew it would bring her nothing but trouble, she was going to make sure the girls were safe and sound. She could later pretend that she didn't feel any guilt.

Her fingers wrapped themselves around the cup and she said to Lady Catelyn, in a voice shy of a whisper: "I don't think he fell, either."

The day of his father's departure had finally arrived, but Robb didn't found the time to feel nervous. When he woke with the first light of the day, his stomach had sunk, and he didn't feel like breaking fast, but he soon found a lot of things to do, to keep his mind occupied.

Without her mother present, Robb spent the next few hours barking orders. It came surprisingly easy to him, following what he remembered from Maester Luwin's lessons. He made sure every wagon was loaded and that the horses' reins were tightened.

His cape was heavy and dancing with the strong wind. There was a blizzard heading their way, and he wanted nothing but for his family to be on their way before the snow caught up to them.

Catching his breath from a long hour of barking orders and lifting chests, Robb walked towards the stables, where he'd last seen his direwolf, Grey Wind.

In the stables he found his uncle Benjen talking in hushed voices to someone. Lowering his gaze, he saw Grey Wind sinking his teeth into a piece of raw meat. Next to him was Odette, sitting on the hay with her legs stretched out. Her hand was sunk in Grey Wind's furs, rubbing nonchalantly as she stared into the empty.

If one didn't know her, one must think she looked disinterested at what Benjen was saying, but Robb noticed the way her eyes flinched slightly and her eyebrow arched when she listened intently to every word he said. It didn't mean she liked what she was hearing.

The direwolf lifted its head as if sensing Robb's presence. The animal blinked in recognition before going back to his meal. "D'you let him eat rat, again?" The boy asked, pointing at the direwolf. The animal had begun to hunt down his own food, but since Robb didn't leave the castle as often as before, it was restricted to sink his teeth in what he could get within the walls. Rats, mostly, since Robb made sure Grey Wind would stay away from the goats and pigs.

The girl's dark eyes met his. "'Course not, it's a rabbit."

"We should've been on the road hours ago," Robb's uncle said, running a hand through his hair. "The little lady here thought it would be a good idea to go out hunting, and your brother is…"

"I was here on time." She argued. "My stuff is packed, my horse is ready, I don't know what your problem is."

Benjen turned to Robb with his arms open and a tired, incredulous look on his long face. Robb shrugged, fighting off a smile.

Odette stood up slowly, shaking the hay off her leather pants. Her boots were muddied and her hair was messy as it always was before a long day in the Wolfswood, but she seemed calm. Robb knew it was the fresh air that calmed her down, otherwise, she would be as much of a nervous mess as the rest of them.

"Do me a favor, find your brother," he asked his nephew as calm as he could. Benjen looked back at Odette, who was distracted with Grey Wind, and then turned to Robb, speaking in a secretive voice: "And please, do try to talk some sense in the girl…"

Benjen marched towards the yard, muttering something about impulsiveness as he disappeared within the crowd of red, gold, and grey.

"You know better than to try and talk some sense into me, don't you?" Odette said with a smug voice.

Grey Wind marched to Robb's side, barely touching his leg. "Castle Black? Really?"

"What is everyone's problem?" She asked to no one in particular, exasperated. "I'm not taking the Black, I'm just visiting. I'll be back south in no time, no one will even miss me."

"I will," Robb confessed.

For a moment she seemed taken back, her eyes a little wider, her mouth half open. Robb was sure he could count the times he'd seen her at a loss of words with one hand. The most remarkable was a few years back when they'd found a place hidden deep in the Wolfswood. Jon was with them too. They would return to that place, a beautiful waterfall in a clearing, to hunt many times after that.

He saw a similar surprised expression on her, but this time it was mixed with sadness. Her brown eyes crystalized and her lips were shaking a little. She breathed in, slowly, and averted her eyes. If he paid close attention, he could almost see her walls going back up, shielding her from the rest of the world.

She sniffed but tried to cover it with a cough. "No, you won't." She said with a smile. "You have Bran and Rickon to look after. You won't have time to even think about me." She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, forcing her lips into a tight smile. "And in case you do have some free time, I'll make sure to leave Theon clear instructions to keep you on your toes. I mean he's not me but…"

They both laughed, but Robb wouldn't let her go without a proper goodbye.

He grabbed her from over her shoulders and held her against his chest.

She didn't respond at first, but she eventually gave him, her arms wrapping themselves around him, but failing to completely embrace him, due to their size difference. She stood on the tips of her boots to hide her face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

Robb didn't miss the way her breaths became erratic for a moment.

It was weird, he decided as he hugged her a little tighter. He could remember seeing her at loss of words, and sad, but it was the first time he'd seen her crying.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Don't hang me for writing such short chapters. I'm having a crisis. I've been a Marvel huge fan for seven years and Endgame fucking wrecked me. I've been crying for a week now. I'm crying as I type. I truly am a mess, and I can't sleep. I did my best to push through the block and deliver this chapter that was supposed to be up past Sunday, but I hope you can forgive me. I finished the cover, too. In case you're curious, my FC for Odette Mormont is Poppy Drayton. I was torn between her and Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey, but she won. Anyway, now that D&D said 'fuck Azor-Ahai theories' I'm kind of bummed. Not a great week for me. Anyway, let me know what you think, theories, or just feel free to talk to me about whatever. You can also follow me on twitter if you want to see me post updates about my writing, it's nicolealextw. Bye for now!