Last Hearth. 298 AAC.
Beams of early twilight slipped past the thick curtains of Lady Rowan's chamber, barely illuminating enough of the dimmed room for her eyes to start fluttering open. She nearly jolted from her chair beside the hearth then, remembering her promise of staying up all night to watch over her cousin's ailing daughter.
The girl, Oma, turned and whimpered fitfully on the large bed on the opposite side of her. A rooster started crowing outside and Rowan found herself scowling at the sound. She slowly put aside her two knitting needles and walked to the bed, stretching her arms out then wiping the sticky sweat on Oma's forehead. The fever was even worse than it was a few hours before, and round spots of coughed up spittle and spew stained the pillow around the little girl's head.
For Rowan it was but another reason to hate the early mornings. Neither sun nor moon would guide men, her mother would say, after that fateful day twenty years ago. Rowan flinched at the memory, almost seeing those light grey eyes that long since disappeared from her nightly terrors. It was a mercy that her niece did not inherit them, what with her mother being some distant Karstark.
A thud suddenly echoed through the hallways, followed by a faint sound of two little feet running closer and closer to the door. Rowan sighed, pulling the furs upward to cover Oma's flushed cheeks. She then adjusted herself to look decent in front of whomever shall enter, reminding herself to order a new bowl of water and another towel. There were five little knocks that sounded like a cadence of sort, and a red-haired boy of ten -whom she couldn't recognise- entered immediately after she answered.
"Milady, me sorry for waking you, but milord Jon had a raven arriving yesterday while you were asleep here. He said to wake you with the first daylight!" He said, panting a little with sweat on his reddened face. Rowan sure hoped he did not get the pox like the rest of the children within the castle.
"Well, is he awake now?"
"Yes, milady! Milord didn't sleep all night, Rigar say. He and Lord Mors said to prepare horses soon to leave for winterfell. Lord Stark is dead now."
Later, Rowan would suppose that it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Two years of sickness and twenty year of grief would do that to the old man. But she felt her heart stop for a little nonetheless, her words stopping short in her mouth.
The lad furrowed his brows at her, surprised at her reaction. It must have been all over Lasst Hearth by now. Surely, if she lent an ear to the hallways outside she would hear more shuffling and buzzing than usual, especially when the sun barely revealed the first rays of orange light. That did not distract her from the news though. Another reason to hate the early mornings, she'd think.
The image of her, with those powerful grey eyes for once asking for help, jumped into her mind again. She shivered, and a quiet gasp was all that was heard from her. The lad in front of her seemed confused enough. He started fidgeting with his sleeves while stealing glances at the whimpering Oma. She would spare him the apprehension; she once felt the same as she stood before Lord Stark.
The late one, that is.
"Anything else, child?"
"Milord said if the little lady was better, she would go too, to Winterfell," he stammered, "Milord said you would see to it with him."
Lord Stark was dead, they said. And the new Lord Stark whom they would travel to swear fealty to nursed the same grudge against her house better than his father. It was a wonder her cousin still thought to foster his daughter there, but she had no right to interfere, as long as she wouldn't have to go as well.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes and nodding at the lad. "Very well, go now and tell him I'm coming. And bring another maid to watch over Oma." She said, waiting until the boy bowed and left before she walked closer to her cousin's child. She pressed a swift kiss on her temple, saddened to feel it sweaty again. She went to pull the large drapes closer together, not before opening the shutters and looking outside first. The sun fully appeared on the horizon at last, and she breathed in and out with silent prayers for Oma, Lyanna, and Lord Rickard's soul.
She spent another moment staring at the scene, imagining a woman of her age riding towards them through the same path she was once taken from. It was hard to forget that echo of a scene, that shook the whole north. The north would always remember. Even with it's Lord gone and few still waiting for his daughter. Rowan could no longer wait herself.
With a sigh, she turned and left for her cousin's solar. He should expect a foul mood from her, as foul as those damned early mornings.