wolfkissed| petyr baelish (littlefinger)

Eight

        It had taken two weeks for Jale to awaken. She laid within her bed still as the tree she was found under. Era never left her side, not even to eat.

Her father had made sure her siblings would not bombard her the second she awoke. She sat alone in her room with her father, mother, and Maester Luwin.

Their was a distance in her eyes. Like her mind was wandering in another realm.

"Do you remember anything Jale? Did someone do this to you." Maester Luwin asked again as the girl only stared at the wall parallel to her.

She was quiet.

"Yes- b..but my memory has fogged. The eyes...they were beautiful." She said softly. Her voice sounding hoarse.

That was all she said for four days. She would raise to use her chamberpot, occasionally move to the window to watch the movements below. Maester Luwin had suggested the family leave her in some seclusion to perhaps process how she feels. To their dismay, they listened to the trusty man.

On the fifth day, Jaleryd Stark entered the morning breakfast hall as normal as any other day. She walked with Era, life in her eyes as she grabbed for fresh sausage and butter bread.

The children and adults alike were baffled. Questions were thrown like rocks at her as she sat and ate.

"Jale! Tell us what happened! Do you have any idea how long you laid there?" Sansa pleated in a whinning nosey tone, that only somewhat sounded sincere.

"Whatever are you talking about sister?" Jale laughed as if all the Starks had lost their minds. She smiled shaking her head as she nibbled on her bread.

But Jale remembered far too much for her own liking of that day. The eyes, the hands, the cold ridged blade.

That very blade that sliced her stomach into a mystical artwork, now laid in her room upon her dresser. A gift representing the future that awaited not only the Starks but all of Westeros.