The sun hung low in the sky, casting a gentle amber glow over the ancient halls of Winterfell. Robb Stark, clad in his House's sigil, led Princess Myrcella Baratheon through the stone corridors, his heart pounding with every step. Willam's words echoed in his mind: "Take her to the glass garden. She'll appreciate the beauty and privacy."
The glass garden stood before them, a sanctuary of warmth and light amid the North's harsh climate, and where Winterfell grows the produce they couldn't get elsewhere. Its crystalline dome shimmered like a beacon against the cold, grey walls of the castle. Robb pushed open the heavy oak door, revealing a lush haven within.
Myrcella's eyes widened with delight as she stepped inside. Exotic flowers from across the Seven Kingdoms bloomed in vibrant hues, their sweet scents mingling with the earthy aroma of rich soil. Ivy-draped gracefully from arched trellises, and the gentle trickle of a small fountain added a soothing melody to the air.
Robb watched her with a mixture of pride and nervousness. He cleared his throat, breaking the serene silence. "I thought you'd enjoy this place. I was right, it seems." he has to thank Willam.
Myrcella turned to him, her golden hair catching the light. "It's beautiful, Robb. Thank you for bringing me here."
He smiled, his anxiety easing slightly. "I thought you might like a break from all the formalities. It's one of my favorite places in Winterfell."
She walked over to a bench nestled among the flowers and sat down, patting the spot beside her. Robb joined her, feeling the warmth of the garden envelope them both.
Robb observed Myrcella, he couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty. Her golden hair cascaded like a shimmering waterfall, framing her delicate features perfectly. The sunlight reflecting from the glass dome danced in her green eyes, reflecting a warmth and kindness that seemed to radiate from within.
She carried herself with an elegance that belied her youth, a graceful presence that drew him in like a moth to a flame. Robb's heart swelled with admiration as he watched her, feeling a deep and unspoken connection to the young princess before him.
They would stay for a time, talking and getting to know one another, a must if they mean to turn this political match into love even if it is far from it.
As the evening grew darker, the garden's lanterns flickered to life, casting a soft, romantic glow.
"Are you afraid, Princess?" it was a question he wanted to wait on but the times coming when the King and his father would be leaving for the south.
Myrcella cleared her throat a little, shifting where she sat, "Forgive me for saying so, but yes, a little bit." that caused Robb to frown. "My Mother is more afraid, she thinks you Northerners are wild people."
It was insulting but in some aspects the Queen was right, "But we are noble, as well, honorable too." he said with some charm and a grin. Myrcella laughed a little and they continued their walk through the garden and all along the way, Robb thought to himself.
Willam was smart, this was a different kind of battlefield from the lessons on war and geography that Luwin taught him.
Later on, the families convened in the great hall for another night of feasting, Robb sat at the side of Theon and both were laughing at one of his friend's escapades to see Ros, a whore from the Wintertown brothel.
There was a night they took Jon to have a woman, Jon didn't go through with it, not that he could blame his brother.
"So I hear you and the Princess went for a walk,"
Robb shook his head, "You go to town too much." he said chiding Theon's dirtiness. "She is sweet, I didn't put much stalk in the match but I changed my mind."
Changing topic, Theon gulped down some ale and chuckled, "The King wants to hunt tomorrow, we should eat our fill." doubtless, His Grace is sure to want to eat a big breakfast before riding out to the wolfswood.
His blue eyes trailed off to find Myrcella's who was deep in conversation with his sister and Jeyne Poole, though after a moment of staring she noticed and waved her hand at him slightly.
Myrcella Stark sounds good on the tongue, much better than Myrcella Baratheon.
The next morning, Robb tightened the leather straps on his horse's saddle, his expression a mix of determination and excitement. The crisp air of the morning dew carried the sounds of the hunting party preparing to set out. He glanced over his shoulder at his brother Willam, who was leaning casually against a wall, his goldenheart bow resting at his side.
"Willam, you're really not coming with us?" Robb asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Willam shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Someone has to stay and show Bran how to shoot. The boy's eager to learn, and who better to teach him than me?"
Robb chuckled, knowing full well the dedication Willam had to their younger brother. "Alright, just don't let him accidentally hit a hen or someone's head." Bran frowned embarrassingly.
Willam laughed, pushing off the wall and ruffling Bran's hair as the young boy stood beside him, wide-eyed and excited. "I'll make sure he's the best archer in the North by the time you're back."
Robb nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. "Then I'll see you both soon."
As Robb mounted his horse and tightened the grip on the reins of the destrier, going to the side of his uncle Benjen, Jon, and Theon when the King signaled for the hunting party to set off.
They didn't return until near nightfall, plenty of boar and stag were taken to the kitchens by servants and dressed down, cooked, and served during the last feast as the King was eager to return south.
Morning came all too soon, Robb was in the courtyard bidding farewells to his sisters, to Bran, and to Jon who would be going North to join the Night's Watch.
He patted Jon on the shoulder, "Next time I see you, you will be all in black."
Jon grinned, "It was always my color." their expressions softened slightly as both brothers embraced one another. "Farewell, Lord Stark."
"And you as well... Brother."