Blake
A grand feast was held in the Great Hall of Winterfell after the Royal Party had settled into their lodgings and recovered from the trip. Blake, as befitting her status as King Robert's niece, was given an apartment on the same floor as the Queen's children, which the Lannister woman likely saw as an insult. Blake didn't particularly care about the specifics, she had grown used to Cersei's glares and veiled insults, which were common whenever she spent time with Myrcella, whose attitude was as sweet as Shireen's. It was such a shame that children would have to suffer for the sins of their parents, yet Blake would do her best to make sure no harm came to Myrcella and Tommen, the sweetlings. Myrcella would be safe in the Faith, while her brother could make for a fine Maester. Now Joffrey, he could freeze on the Wall for all she cared, assuming he made it that far North. Being raised as the spoiled Crown Prince was no excuse for his horrid personality, and she shuddered to imagine what would happen if he took the Iron Throne.
The first to enter the Great Hall was Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. Dressed in a fine gray wool doublet that matched his wife's dress, Lord Stark didn't look as savage as the rumors down south said. But then again, rumors also said her Father was planning on banning whores again and that Ser Jaime ran around King's Landing doling out justice to the wicked at night. Uncle Robert and the Queen entered alongside them, with her Uncle wearing Baratheon black and yellow and the Queen in her usual Lannister red and gold. Following them were the children.
Robb Stark was paired with Myrcella, and Sansa Stark with Joffrey. The Stark Heir wore an outfit of white with a gray lining, while his sister had in a pretty blue dress that looked like it better suited for the cold compared to Blake's own dresses, despite not appearing too differently made. Following them was Tommen with Arya Stark, who looked more Stark than Tully, with dark hair instead of auburn, and gray eyes instead of Tully blue. Blake had been disappointed by the color of her hair, Arya would've been the closest to looking like Ruby.
Add in some rumors of her attitudes from the Winterfell servants she'd overheard, and well, Blake was disappointed her trip up here was for nothing. Taking up the rear was Blake, wearing a black dress that covered her shoulders and arms, with gold silk decorating the bodice in the design of a stag's antlers. Her escort was Bran Stark, Lord Eddard's second son. Blake didn't mind, Bran seemed like a cherry boy, and reminded her of Tommen, surprisingly. She made a note to possibly introduce the two of them when she got a chance.
The Stark was a sweet boy, wearing a fine doublet similar to that of his older brother, with the Stark direwolf sewn onto the wool. He had the Tully look the rest of his siblings, excluding Arya, had, with reddish auburn hair and blue eyes. With her arm holding onto his elbow, Blake could sense his anxiety with every step they took, though the Young Stark did his best to mask it. Rickon Stark was last, wobbling proudly but trying to imitate his older siblings. Sadly, he didn't have anyone to escort, but he didn't seem to mind. After them came the Imp, Benjen Stark and Lord Eddard's ward, Theon Greyjoy. They seemed to be able to co-exist, even if she could tell from the glares aimed at one another, they were not friendly in the least.
They sat at the high table, with Blake being seated beside Bran and Arya. Robb and Sansa Stark sat closer to the Royal Family, along with their parents. Likely one of their parents, if not both of them, was pushing for a betrothal. Not that she could blame them, of course, but it made her grimace inside. If it happened, well, that would further complicate matters. Keeping her face blank, she eyed her Uncle from her side of the table. Uncle Robert already had a goblet of wine in his hands, laughing and joking with the serious Lord Stark. It was obvious that he was trying to arrange a match, either between Myrcella and Robb Stark, or between Joffrey and Sansa.
"You look like a cat." A young voice tore Blake's eyes away from her Uncle's reddening face as he gestured with his goblet to Lord Stark. She turned to Arya Stark, who sat across from her, and who had apparently noticed something about her.
"Arya!" Bran huffed loud enough for his sister to hear, but low enough to not be heard by his Mother. His blush had disappeared now that Blake wasn't holding onto his elbow. Apparently he was nervous being held by a pretty girl his age.
"I do, don't I." Blake said with the slightest of smirks. She liked this one, she had a real fire in her. Lady Stark and her eldest daughter seemed unnerved, almost disappointed, if she had to guess, by Blake's eyes and short hair. By contrast, Arya seemed enthralled by it and her attitude.
"Yes!" Arya exclaimed. Her hair was cut shorter than the average ladies, coming down to her shoulders, while the tip of Blake's pitch black mane just barely passed her chin by an inch or two. It seems Lord Stark had a bit of a tomboy as one of his daughters, in contrast to his other one. She pitied him, she could guess those two did not get along. Blake was lucky, her and Shireen got along fine, but that was mostly due to sheer luck.
"You look like a direwolf." Blake said in return as the servants started to serve them their first meal, roasted venison with wild onions. It smelled delicious and fresh, even if it wasn't her preferred fish. She turned to Bran so he wouldn't feel left out. "And you look like a wolf-fish."
"A wolf-fish?" Bran questioned, his eyes wide. His sister mimicked his expression, as she tore into her venison as if she had never eaten before. Not that she could blame the girl, the smell was enticing enough to make her mouth water. Winterfell had some good chefs, it seemed.
"A wolf-fish." Blake confirmed. She wished she could eat like Arya, but she did have a reputation to uphold, as King Robert's niece. And she was pretty sure Uncle Andrew would inform Father the moment he had a chance to. "Fish with teeth the size of a wolf."
Arya's thin lips turned into a grin at the image, ironically reminding her of the fish. "Can they eat a man whole?!"
Blake shook her head slowly. "Not whole, they're far too small. But a pack of them could eat a man straight to the bones. I've seen them in the markets of Dragonstone." They were delicious too, once she picked out all of its tiny bones, with a sweet flavor and a nice firm texture. They also made for good leather, sea wolf leather gloves were a common item for sale in Dragonstone's market.
"I want to see one!" Arya exclaimed, earning herself a glare from her older sister from the other side of the table. Sansa Stark was engrossed in some conversation with Joffrey, who had an arrogant smile on his face. She worried about the poor girl, if Sansa wound up betrothed to him, she didn't think it would end well for her. It struck her, that this is what her relationship with Him must've looked like from the outside. She took a small sip of wine at that image, resisting the urge to shudder at the memories.
"Perhaps I'll arrange for the teeth of one to be sent to Winterfell, as a gift." Blake suggested with a wry smile. It felt wrong acting like a politician, that was always Weiss' specialty, but allies were needed at court, and the Starks were currently Father's best option. Uninvolved with the current political mess, loyal to Uncle, and well, underestimated by everyone in King's Landing. Yes, they would make for great allies, if properly briefed.
"I want one too!" Bran added. The rest of the tables had been served, and the musicians that Lord Stark had hired started to play, drowning out the rest of their conversation with yells, cheers and music.
Blake formed the smallest of smiles. "Of course." Wolves and stags were always meant to be friends. Now all she needed to do was convince Lord Stark to join them, that their actions weren't treason.
That was going to be hard.
Stannis
The port of King's Landing was filled with a flurry of busy sailors and harbormen preparing for the departure of the Royal Fleet, on top of the usual traffic a port generated. Hundreds of galleys of various sizes, some with one deck and others as large as four. Stannis stood upon the deck of the Fury, his personal flagship, running his calloused hands over the railing, finding not a splinter in the smooth wood. The Fury was a fine ship, one of the first constructed when Robert had him named Master-of-Ships, and had been his flagship when he assaulted Dragonstone in the middle of a hurricane, and when he smashed the Iron Fleet off of Fair Isle. That wasn't even mentioning the campaigns he had done in the Stepstones, clearing out pirates to allow honest merchants and tradesmen to sell their goods in the Seven Kingdoms. He had many good memories aboard this vessel, and it seemed like it was a part of his family at times.
"The fleet is almost ready to set sail, my Lord." Ser Aurane Waters said, approaching the Lord of Dragonstone from behind. Stannis didn't bother turning his head to give the man a glance. With Ser Andrew sent North to escort Blake, Ser Aurane would have to fulfill his duties until Stannis' former squire and cousin returned. He didn't envy the man, every man had his duty, yes, but taking on multiple duties wasn't a fun experience.
"We sail with the tide." Stannis grunted. The bulk of the fleet would head for Dragonstone, while others with handpicked captains would make for the Free Cities, to hire men and ships for the war to come. Ser Davos would be one of those men, taking the Black Bertha and a dozen more galleys with him. Hopefully he could acquire sellsails in sufficient quantities. Failing that, at least he could gauge how many the Lannisters could theoretically hire if they chose.
"As you command, my Lord." Ser Aurane bowed his head as Stannis finally turned to look at him. The Velaryon bastard was taller now, no longer the boy he had been during the Greyjoy Rebellion, with long white Valyrian hair that fell past his shoulders. Despite Stannis' tutelage, the boy dressed like a peacock, with a cape the color of the Velaryon sigil and a wide brim hat so ostentatious that not even Renly would dare wear it. Still, his dashing looks made him popular with the sailors, and the man did have a keen eye for navigating by the stars.
"Ser Aurane." Stannis said simply. He still towered over the young knight and he knew it. He might be a knight, but Stannis was a Lord, and that difference was stark.
"Yes, my Lord?" The Bastard of Driftmark had a natural cockiness to him, it was annoying. Stannis wasn't surprised he got along extremely well with Ser Justin Massey. It was a good thing the man never met Ser Jaime, the two of them would either hit it off or try to murder one another.
"Your sister, she's married to a Lannister, is that correct?" Stannis continued. He remembered the woman, and her cursed daughter, from the feast in Lannisport before he sailed to smash the Iron Fleet. The Lannister Witch had requested that he choose a song for her to sing, drawing him into that mess.
"Aye, my Lord. My trueborn sister was married to a Lannisport Lannister, the Lord of Lannisport himself." Ser Aurane answered. That meant that the Lannister Witch was his niece, even if he was born a bastard. His cloak rippled with the seawind, bringing with it the King's Landing stench mixed with the salt air.
Stannis started to grind his jaw. Yes, he remembered now. He gave his former squire a curt nod and turned to look at the crew of the Fury, preparing to cast off. "Did you get a chance to meet with your kin during the tourney, Ser Aurane?"
"No, my Lord. I am a humble bastard, and would not dare to presume that my trueborn sister's daughter would wish to meet me." Ser Aurane placed a hand on the top of his head, to prevent his gaudy hat from flying away. "If she had requested my presence, I would have no qualms meeting her."
Stannis gripped the railing once more, deep in thought. Where did the Lannister girl get her power from? If it was the result of Valyrian blood, then perhaps her Uncle's descendants could as well. Robert should have a bastard girl around his age, in the Vale if Stannis remembered correctly, which he always did. Yes, Baratheon and Velaryon blood could result in another child with magic like Blake and Lord Tywin's toy. If not, he could find a Hightower bastard, Malora had plenty of cousins. Yet, at the same time, was there something else to it? If it was just Valyrian blood, then the Targaryeans would still be sitting on the Iron Throne, and Dragonseeds would be in high demand. No, there was something else he was missing.
"Finish the arrangements to set sail. I shall be in my quarters if needed." Stannis released his grip on the railing as he headed towards the stairwell, not even giving the young bastard another glance. An arranged marriage with one of the King's bastard daughters, now that was an offer that some Houses would find hard to refuse. Especially if they had a bastard of their own they wished to shuffle out of sight. Yes, that would work well. That idea did little to stop a frown from forming on his face. Stannis hated dealing with politics, despite his years in King's Landing.
He should let Malora handle this.
Blake
The feast lasted for hours, with several courses of Northern cuisine. Not as many as a Southern feast would have to offer, of course, but enough that it still felt like overkill in Blake's opinion. While the Starks were far from being the richest of the Great Houses, they were still well-to-do. Of course, at the same time, with what was said to be the longest Summer starting to come to an end, it made sense to celebrate before the coming Winter. After the Seventh course, the dancing started, while servants cleared away the dishes and food from the tables. Lord and Lady Stark shared a dance, as did their children. Robb Stark danced with his sisters, and even shared one with Myrcella, whose cheeks glowed as red as his hair. Joffrey only danced with Sansa Stark, who seemed to worship the very ground he stepped on. Blake danced with Bran, who shyly almost stepped on her feet several times, and Robb Stark, who seemed to only ask her out of politeness. The Greyjoy danced with Myrcella once, before moving onto dancing with a brown haired girl.
Once everyone's feet were sore and tired of dancing, the drinking started, which Uncle Robert seemed to lead everyone in. The Queen left to her assigned quarters with her children once a serving wench was seated upon their King's lap, escorted by her brother, Ser Jaime. Lady Stark followed suit, though she left behind her eldest son as he was almost a man grown.
Lord Stark was forced to stay by Uncle Robert's side, who was now joined by Uncle Andrew, who nursed his own goblet of beer or wine. Her nose twitching ever so slightly, Blake stood up from her seat and silently moved to leave the room. She wished to see more of Winterfell, and with much of the keep drunk or asleep, now would be the best time to walk around unaccompanied. Uncle Robert would be fine, he was surrounded by some of the most loyal supporters of his, and the rest of the Kingsguard.
Taking a deep breath once she was in the yard, Blake allowed her eyes to wander, taking soft steps. She still hadn't gotten a chance to see the Starks direwolves, of which she had heard plenty of whispers. Blake was pretty sure most of them were exaggerations, she'd seen wild wolves in the past, and they were larger than actual dogs, yes, but not that big.
"You're a strange bastard." Blake heard the faintest hint of a familiar voice in the distance and turned towards it. Luckily for her, she was a curious cat and had memorized the rough layout of Winterfell. She followed the whisper of a conversation when she arrived in what was almost a deserted courtyard. Her aura enhanced eyes allowed her to spot three figures, talking in the shadows.
One was short, as tall as a child, yet had the shape of a grown man. With mismatched eyes and thin yellow hair, Tyrion Lannister, the infamous Imp was bundled in expensive furs to better withstand the cold. A young boy was with him, at least a year or two older than Blake's current body. Next to him was a white mass that resembled a pile of snow. The Imp noticed her approach, to her surprise. The Imp was more aware of his surroundings than she suspected. Granted, she wasn't exactly trying to conceal her presence, but it was still an impressive feat.
"Hello there, Lady Baratheon." He said, causing the boy to whip his head around in shock. Sloppy. He should be on his toes, even in a safe place such as a castle. Gray eyes stared into her amber ones, shock contrasting with her casual, cool facade. The boy had dark brown hair that was almost a shade of black that framed his youthful, yet rather handsome face. The white mass perked its head up, revealing itself to be a wolf, and its red eyes were locked on her form. Yet there was no growl or curl of the lip to reveal its fangs.
"Lord Tyrion." Blake said politely, holding her hands in front of her as she approached him. She turned to the boy, looking him over. He looked like a Stark, yet he wasn't seated with the rest of Lord Eddard's children. Who could this be? "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you."
The boy licked his dry lips and bowed his head, in shame, she thought. "I'm Jon Snow, my Lady." Ah, so he was Lord Stark's infamous bastard, the permanent mark on his honor for which the Hero of the Rebellion was so famed for. Out in the cold, away from the closest thing he had to a family, while they feasted inside a warm hall.
"I was teaching the boy the way of the world, my Lady." Lord Tyrion added. He was holding a book, which looked oversized in his hands. She was not afraid to admit, she was a bit surprised at the Imp choosing to hide himself away from a feast, to read with a bastard out in the cold. Guess he would know what it's like to be judged, she supposed. She expected him to be in bed with a whore or serving wench.
"A pleasure to meet you, Jon Snow." Blake extended her hand, which the young man took after an encouraging nod from her. He kissed her knuckles, after which Lord Tyrion did the same. Even if Dragonstone was considered worthless by the realm, she was still the King's niece.
"See boy? The King's own niece allowed a bastard to greet her." Lord Tyrion winked with what sounded like a drunken laugh. Yet, she noticed, his grin didn't meet his mismatched eyes. Curious.
"Children shouldn't take the blame for their parents' mistake, Lord Tyrion." Blake narrowed her eyes. He was one of Weiss' relatives, right? Blake had seen the two of them spend some time together before she left King's Landing. The Imp would stand out in a crowd, ironically, given his stature.
"You are very kind, Lady Blake. It's a miracle considering who your Father is." Lord Tyrion's eyes held no malice towards her, at least. "Stannis Baratheon isn't known for being a kind man. Bastard, did you know he once meant to place a ban on whores throughout the realm?"
"My Father's a just and honest man, even if he tends to do too much." Blake admitted. It wasn't exactly that big a surprise people thought of him. They only saw one facet of his personality, after all. Especially a Lannister. "And a bastard he may be, but he still has a name, don't you, Jon?"
Jon Snow's sullen cheeks reddened as he nodded. The poor boy was getting more embarrassed than his brother inside was. Was being nervous around pretty girls genetic or something else? "Aye."
Blake turned her attention to the direwolf, who kept staring at her. Weirdly, despite the fact that he was already nearly the size of Ruby, she was unafraid of him. She squatted down, staring back at the animal's gaze,and briefly turned to Jon Snow. "What's his name?"
"G-Ghost?" Jon answered, much to Lord Tyrion's amusement. Weiss would've been freaking out over how cute he was, and how his coat matched her hair and so on. Blake wasn't the biggest fan of dogs, though wolves could be an exception in the right circumstances. And apparently Direwolves counted, it seemed. Learn something new every day.
"Ghost." Blake repeated with a small smile. The direwolf was still growing, perhaps within a few weeks or months they would finally know if it's not just a normal wolf. Admittedly, she was pretty sure it was, just from the actual size of it. Unless it was a wolfdog or something. "May I?"
Jon rubbed the top of Ghost's head and nodded after a few seconds. "You may, my Lady. He doesn't bite."
Not yet, at least. Odds are with the kind of fangs he'd have, they could rival a Beowolf's bite. Now granted permission from his partner, Blake extended one of her hands towards the direwolf. She made sure that the back of her left hand was towards Ghost's snout, like she'd seen some of the men do to the dogs roaming the docks.
"Careful my Lady." Lord Tyrion quipped. "He seemed to want to try the taste of dwarf earlier."
Blake ignored him as the tips of her fingers brushed against the fur that sat on top of Ghost's head. His fur was soft and white as snow, truly a fitting name for such a majestic beast. She smiled as ran her hands through the animal's fur. A small, sad smile formed on her lips. She missed Weiss very much. It pained her that the two had to be separated. Even with the lack of hair products in this world, the former Schnee's hair was still silky smooth and soft.
"Thankfully, I'm no dwarf, Lord Tyrion." Blake said dryly, yet it still earned her a laugh from the Lannister dwarf and a stifled giggle from Jon.
Blake decided that she liked wolves now.
A/N
Krieg: Ruby being a Stark was too obvious, so we picked a better role for her.
Night: I should also add, Yang isn't Yi-tian. And Dornish? Eugh. Honestly, some of your guesses are quite amusing to read.
Krieg: And some of you have gotten dangerously close to guessing correctly.