Author's Note: Yay! I can update in a more proper schedule because it's summer for me so more writing time 3 3 Probably every 14th of the month, but I'm not too sure because in 2 months, it's back to classes but at least I'll have something written out by then. *thumbs up* I hope this chapter doesn't seem filler-y but I'm trying to get their relationship to develop. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Days passed and Euphemia had not written to her parents about her outburst. She did not want to worry her parents. It also seemed that Haymitch had not told Lord Jon and Lady Sansa either, but she could feel the tension from them when they looked at the two young ones. Perhaps she and Haymitch had become too quiet during meal times. Perhaps someone else who had known something had let out some whispers. But whether they have knowledge of what happened or not, they did not mention it. They only had worry etched on their faces.

She had tried many times to tell her gracious hosts of it. It was rude not to tell them, she had kept telling herself. But her words caught her throat doing so. Euphemia realized that although she was still their guest, she was still alone in this winter castle. It did not take long for her to realize how scared she was.

"Dueling the lord? What was I thinking?" Euphemia finally cracked after a few days more. She had summoned Aron to her chambers. The swordsman scrunched his brows.

"M'lady, Lady Sansa will not have you harmed. The young lord barely had any scratches on him," he heard Euphemia groan. "Besides, the contract between host and guest protects you,"

"But Aron," she began. "Lady Sansa's mother was killed under that contract,"

"Another reason why she would not harm you," Aron assured her. But Euphemia was still flailing her arms and trying to get words out. The swordsman watched her with half amusement and half worry. Suddenly, her figure slacked. Not quite relaxed, but defeated.

"I'm scared, Aron," she finally whispered. "And alone. I miss mother and father,"

"I'm here, m'lady, and I'll protect you,"

She looked at her master-at-arms. He smiled at her. He was over forty years and had smile crinkles around his eyes. Whenever his parents were away, Aron had been the next parent she had. Her lady mother had learned the sword together with him and grew to be good friends with him. She had thought he and her mother might have ended up if he weren't lowborn and traveled at ten-and-three to the other islands to learn more ways of the sword. But it was clear that they were just friends who cared about each other. Her father was not convinced however and always held on to her mother's hand whenever her mother and the swordsman spoke in his presence.

"M'lady?"

He shot a worried look at her. Then she realized she must have giggled.

"It's nothing, Aron. Father might accuse you of trying to steal his daughter, too," she chuckled.

"Oh m'lady. I am perfectly content with my place. And I love your lady mother like a sister,"

"Don't tell father that," she whispered in mock horror.

"Oh dear, you're right,"

And Euphemia burst into a big smile and wrapped her arms around the man.

"Thank you,"

"Your smile always warms my heart, m'lady,"

When she let go, the man looked serious again.

"Do you want to send a raven to your parents?"

"I do not want to burden them. Mayhaps when their letter arrives will I tell them… and Lady Sansa and Lord Jon, too,"

"You have officially broken off your marriage then, m'lady?"

Euphemia paused at that. Neither she nor Haymitch had spoken a word to each other since. She didn't know what to say. It seemed rather unspoken but still. They hadn't officially settled on anything. She just gave the master-at-arms a small smile. Then, she decided she would pay a visit to the heir of Winterfell.

It took her two days to gather up her courage to confront the young lord. She found him in the castle courtyard, trying hit straw dummies with a bow and arrow. She silently cursed the gods that of all places she'd find him was where they had nearly skewered each other.

The boy had noticed her after his third failed shot and he seemed to tense at her presence.

"My lady," Lord Haymitch greeted stiffly upon seeing her and Euphemia returned his greeting just as stiffly.

"I..." she took in a deep breath before continuing. "…came here to discuss of our marriage, my lord. Last we spoke to each other was quite a disaster but now that tempers are settled, I think it best we talk like civilized people,"

"Ah, finally some sense. That we can agree on," the young lord scoffed.

"Seeing as how we cannot get along, it is best we call off our marriage," Euphemia set her face to stone.

"Alright," the Northern lord put down his bow and approached her. "So we send a raven to your parents and tell my parents?"

Euphemia lowered her head, almost shy. She didn't want to seem like she's pleading. "Best we do not. I would not want my parents to sail back here. Tarth needs them,"

Haymitch didn't seem to mind and shrugged nonchalantly. "So we tell my parents instead,"

Euphemia shook her head. "It would only be fair if we tell them together,"

"What do you suggest we do then, my lady?" the young lord inquired.

Effie was well aware at how those steel eyes were calculating her. She tried to calm her heart at what his gaze was doing to her. They were breaking off their marriage because they were opposite sides of the wall of society.

The Northern lord coughed.

Her attention was back at the present. She tried to ignore the slight flush that colored Lord Haymitch's cheeks and the way he averted her gaze.

"We don't have to keep a pretense on even trying to get along but we don't have to worry your parents,"

"Easy enough," the lord grinned manically. Euphemia frowned at that. He only ever came alive when they are bickering. Nonetheless she gave him a wry smile.

"Now that that's settled, I will see you in supper,"

"Dragon," she heard him mutter.

"It's lion, my lord, but thank you for the comparing me to the queen, nonetheless," Euphemia replied, knowing full well that it was meant to be an insult. She had seen Daenerys Targaryen once and it was frightening.

When she heard no other quip from him, she held her head high and smiled smugly. However, as soon as she returned to her chambers, she was unsure if it was the right decision and she felt a sense of dread. Even when supper came around, she could still feel it at the pit of her stomach.

"You two have been awfully quiet the past week," Lord Jon finally remarked. "I would say it was a relief but it worries my lady wife and I,"

Euphemia and Haymitch looked at each other.

"We had a misunderstanding, Lord Jon, but we've settled it,"

It wasn't quite a lie but telling half-truths gave ease to her conscience.

"She was being bloody difficult but yes, father, we have settled things," Haymitch murmured.

"Wonderful, you are finally getting along," Lord Jon remarked.

"We most certainly have not, father. Right, princess,"

"You will address me by my proper title," Euphemia only spoke.

"Dragon,"

And with that they began to bicker all over again much to the older Starks' dismay. At the same time, they seemed relief that they are back to actually talking to each other.

When supper ended, the young ones seemed in better spirits, Sansa noted but kept quiet about it.

The following days, the two seem to run into each other often. When Haymitch wasn't sword training or Euphemia having lesson with the septa in Winterfell, they both spent quite a lot of time in the library. Euphemia was still gripped with the Tales of the North while Haymitch seemed to be studying some sort of history book. Usually, one would be there already when the other entered. Oddly enough, the library is the only place they could be in the same room and not attempt to yell at each other. Perhaps this was due to the fact that they didn't have to talk or look at each other while reading. Though occasionally, they would steal glances at each other only to find the other staring back. Neither was sure who started it first but they would often have color in their faces by the time one of them left the library.

One day, they happened to enter library together. By the gods' will, they decided to sit near each other.

"So," the lord drawled-almost detachedly. "What is your favorite story so far, my lady?"

"Wolf Children," she said in a heartbeat.

Wolf Children was a tale of love between a Northern Prince and a Wildling girl who was daughter of a chieftain of her own tribe. The Wildling and some of her fellow tribesmen sneaked into Winterfell where she met the Northern Prince. She and the Prince had fallen in love. Moons later, the Wildling discovered her pregnancy. One of her companions, who wanted her to himself, was filled with jealousy and sought out dark magic and cursed the child. When it was her due date, the baby- babies- had clawed out of her stomach. Out came seven pups, bigger than any dog or wolf infant they have seen. They were direwolves. Everyone saw the children as some monster the gods had cursed for bedding a wildling. But the Prince saw the children as a gift. He kept the direwolves with him until they grew. Even as he wed, he treated the direwolves like his own children and even kept them with his own human children who gloriously got along well. Often the Prince would pet his direwolf children and remember their mother. Those nights, they would howl for their mother. Once he died though, the Wolves had left for the forest. According to legend, if one heard eerie howls that sounded vaguely human, it was said to be the family of the Northern Prince and the Wildling Princess with their wolf children.

The Stark made a face.

"Oh you're going to make a cruel jape at me for being romantic," Euphemia frowned. "No need to bother, my lord,"

Her companion merely shrugged though.

"I loved it as a child. It was my favorite,"

Euphemia pursed her lips and Haymitch glared at her.

"You mock me, my lady," he pointed out with iciness in his tone.

"Merely amused," she tried to fight off a smile but it won. "Who knew the cold heir of the North is quite a romantic?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that,"

Her grin only widened.

"By the gods," he muttered. "I wanted to be a direwolf as a child. I asked my lady mother how I'd be a wolf, but she merely laughed at me and told me I was already one,"

"You are," Effie mumbled.

He ignored her and went on. "After I read the story, I was convinced for a while that I was. That is until I tried to eat meat raw,"

For the first time, Euphemia genuinely laughed at something the lord had said.

"You really are a ruffian,"

"Now you owe me a story of yourself, sweetling," he told her.

That's new, she mused. It was a nickname he hadn't used on her before.

"But I told you countless of stories but you never bothered listen, my lord,"

"That's because a story of mine is equal to a thousand of yours,"

Euphemia huffed. "How does a greedy wolf such as you even like politics and history?"

"Ah, but that's two stories from me, my lady," he merely replied.

"Fine,"

And somehow they had filled the room with their endless chatter, more often banter and occasional yelling at each other, yet they finally found footing. When they left the library had the two only realized what they had done.

We are enemies, Euphemia thought as she turned the corner. The lions and the wolves are forever locked in a dance of battle. Neither animal will yield to the other.

Yet for several moons after, they both found themselves running into each other more often-sometimes in the halls, where once Euphemia had just come from her lessons and they both had a contest on who would name the most houses, sigils and words, which to her dismay Haymitch won; sometimes outside the Sept where they had argued about which gods where truer in aiding the soldiers during the war. Once outside the bath, Euphemia was surrounded by her handmaidens but she frowned seeing the smirk from the lord's face, her companions' giggling and the heat of her own face. Sometimes, when they'd randomly meet they'd do some contests-sometimes rivals, sometimes teammates.

Mealtimes were just as much of an interesting occasion as they usually would never finish their argument in their previous meetings. Jon would bark laughter. Even Lady Sansa managed a small amused smile watching them.

On her way out of the kitchens, the young lady ran into Haymitch.

"My lord, I didn't expect you to be here,"

Her eyes were wide and hid the basket she was holding behind her.

"This is my castle and I may eat food whenever I desire," the lord stated, but his brow lifted questioningly at her.

"I was simply famished, too. Aron gave me quite a harsh lesson today,"

Euphemia could see he was studying her.

"You…" he said after a while. "…have a little something on your cheek,"

She rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand and she felt fine powder. She sighed in defeat.

"I was trying to make lemon cakes," she confessed showing him her basket. "I wanted to surprise the men who remained here. They must be terribly bored,"

Without even bothering to ask, Haymitch took a piece and bit from it. His face twisted.

"That's terrible,"

Euphemia groaned. "I know. I was never a good cook,"

"Why bother cooking it for yourself when other people will do it for you," he inquired.

"My parents taught me that I should have skill in all aspects. One cannot predict what will happen so I better prepare," she simply replied.

"And why lemon cakes?"

"Ah, that's two personal questions, my lord,"

The questions had begun to be a game between them. One will share in exchange for another. Often, Lord Stark would attempt to cheat and tell her that her story was worth less than his and would demand another one yet Effie was adamant on sticking with the rules.

"The reason would probably be boring anyway," he snorted.

"Hm," she hummed. "I suppose it is. I just happen to like them a lot,"

Haymitch raised his brow. "So does my lady mother. It's her favorite."

Euphemia felt excited at that similarity with Lady Sansa. "We have that in common,"

After a while, they had grown silent, unsure whether or not to go or say something.

"Have you ever been in love, my lord?" she out of the blue.

The boy averted her gaze and then looked at her. "Never," he told her with a straight face.

"You're lying," she pointed out.

"No, I'm not," he pouted.

"I can tell you are lying or trying to avoid a topic because you dart your eyes to the left before looking at me with a straight face,"

He does the same gesture whilst denying it.

"See, you did it again," she just said.

"Perceptive," he chuckled. "But unfortunately for you, I also happen to know that you lie because you blush madly and stutter doing so,"

Like he, she also does her gesture while denying.

"You did exactly the same thing when I told you how much you'd want to take a peek at me in the bath,"

She could feel her cheeks heating up.

"You know, you could join me," he wiggled his eyebrows and her face felt like fire.

"You were avoiding my question," she said, steering the topic away from embarrassment.

Then, he was closed up again.

"Whether or not I have ever had such feelings for anyone is none of your concern, my lady,"

Just when they were starting to warm up, too. Euphemia merely nodded and with that, he turned away from her.

"I- I apologize, my lord," she spluttered when she was a few feet away. "I did not know I was stepping over the line,"

He merely heard him breathe deeply and spun back toward her. He plucked another lemon cake and bit it. His face still twisted in disgust.

"I suppose this thing you call food is another proof that you aren't the perfect lady you claim yourself to be," he snorted.

"What do you mean another? You only won the houses contest because you gave me northern ones," she huffed. "Though I suppose sword fighting already qualifies as not a perfect lady, but nevertheless," she glared at him. "Do not expect me to be cooking for you anytime soon when we are wed,"

"Your cooking will most definitely be not on my thoughts during our wedding night,"

Euphemia blushed and glared at him while he laughed. It seemed like such a perfectly normal conversation until she realized something.

"That is if we were going to get married," she whispered, almost mouthing the words, but Haymitch must have heard it because he had stopped laughing.

"It is an interesting thought though," he coughed.

"My apologies. I started it, Lord Stark,"

"Haymitch,"

"What?"

"Just Haymitch. None of that, lord or my lord when it is just us,"

Effie bit her lip and gave a confused smile.

"The world is indeed changing, when your usage of titles is so improper,"

"A new era of White Walkers would come and all you would do is lecture them about how rude it is to invade a civilization,"

"It could work,"

"I would believe it,"

Everything seemed familiar and right at the moment. It seemed like love. Not like the stories she had read. But it seemed more concrete and real.

Yet this could not happen. Starks and Lannisters have too much strife and it is hard to join these houses. So she gave the lord an apologetic smile and headed off to her room.

After that awkward meeting, both pretended none of that had happened and continued their usual dance. But something in his steel stare is becoming different. There was less contempt in his eyes. Try as she might, the feeling at the pit of the stomach wouldn't go away.

One day, Lady Sansa had delivered a letter to her. Seeing the seal of Tarth, Euphemia giddily opened it.

How are you faring, sweetling? Your brother arrived to Tarth with a healer from Braavos. She worked wonders on little Octavia. Portia arrived days later. The little ones miss you a lot. So do your father and I. His backside is all better now. We will finally return on the morrow since I sent this letter. I hope the Lord Stark is wonderful.

-Mother

Euphemia sucked in her breath.

Although she missed her parents terribly, all she felt was dread.

Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN DUN XD Thought I'd actually put a cliffhanger-ish end to a chapter. I'm actually really excited for the next chapter, where it gets good. Well, I hope it does to you. Hahahahhahaha! Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts/constructive criticism.~

PS. Can anyone link me to weapon fighting for dummies links because I'm really not confident in weapon fighting… or politics… or battle strategies…. Or self defense…. Ples XD I want to be accurate af.