The Taste of Bitter Steel

The Prince of the City

Three weeks earlier...

It did not matter how bright the day may have been outside the walls of the castle, cloudless and sun-ridden or stormy and black as pitch, the interior of Winterfell was always the same dreary darkness. Long shadows cast by dying candles cut through the orange light that barely lit the rooms, as solemn and harsh as those who occupied them. As a child, Elyse had marveled at the singularity of it; as a young woman, it simply seemed appropriate.

Winding through the familiar halls, Elyse nodded to all passersby as they greeted her or moved to make room. Guards stepping inside after a shift change brought the scent of pine and mud with them, while servants bustled from the kitchens with freshly baked bread that made her mouth water. There was a low hum throughout the space as everyone went about their daily duties. Dark Winterfell may have been, but it did not lack for life.

Blinking rapidly as she stepped outside, Elyse found the day to be a sunny one, without a cloud to be found. The light warmed her skin, and might have brought a smile to her face were it not for the circumstances that clung heavily to her.

Horses trotted by, their riders having just passed through the northern gate. Their hooves kicked up mud that splashed upon the hem of her skirts, but Elyse paid it no mind. A life of dirt and muck and grime was one all northern ladies grew accustomed to, and as her father's eldest child, she had seen more than her fair share.

A young guard stood by the entrance to the watchtower, nervously rocking on the balls of his feet as she approached.

"She passed through here then?" Elyse asked.

"Y-yes, my lady," the guard stammered, quickly removing his helm. A shock of blonde hair greeted her, jutting out in various directions. "Not long after my shift started. It felt wrong to be there alone with her, my lady. Not-not that I would think of doing anything...untoward."

"And I would never accuse you of such." The way his shoulders sagged told her that the forced smile upon her face was somehow reassuring. "We won't be long, and then you may resume your duties."

She paused in the threshold, turning back to the young man. "What is your name?"

"D-Dustin, my lady," he replied, juggling his helm until it fell into the mud. "Just Dustin."

"Well, Dustin, I will pass along my thanks to the captain for informing me. He should know you have done me a great service today."

A toothy grin greeted her. "I...thank you, my lady."

The height of the watchtower made itself known in her calves as Elyse slowly climbed her way up. Her sister would flee to the tallest place she could find, if only to deter those who sought to catch her. But Sara often forgot that before she was known as the castle's menace, Elyse had claimed that title, and held it with pride. There hadn't been a corner of the castle her cackles hadn't echoed across as she gave both servants and guards the slip, skipping lessons, stealing cakes, or being a general nuisance out of entertainment's sake. Dress or not, Elyse would scale the very walls of the keep to find her sister.

Fortunately, her climbing skills need not have been put to the test that day. Sara had remained in the tower, staring out the window with her back to her. A strong wind gusted from the South, carrying the smell of rain as it flung her sister's hair about, black as night and fine to the touch. It was her mother's hair.

Elyse stood behind Sara, waiting a while, though she knew winter would return before her sister spoke to her.

"It's not that I wanted to do this," she said slowly, the words hard to come by. When she spoke to her father, she might have gone on for an age, but something held her tongue here. "Things are difficult now. I know you've seen it, and this is the only way I can think to help."