The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - II

ARYADNE WOKE EARLY the next morning and took breakfast in a corner of the hall, undisturbed. There had been talk of a hunt and she wanted to be ready. Her usual dresses were replaced by leather trousers and a long tunic. The courtyard was mostly empty. Heading straight to the paddocks, she found her mare snuffling a bale of hay with some dissatisfaction. She petted the dappled grey of the horse's neck and fed her some smuggled apple slices from the palm of her hand.

A scuffling of footsteps caught her attention. Initially unnoticed by her, a boy paced the courtyard alone, his sword aloft. He was nimble and his feet moved in intricate patterns between each thrust and parry against thin air. Not far from him, another watched. A wolf cub, white as snow, with red eyes following every move. She knew not to be alarmed, having seen the other Stark children's pets at the feast.

It was only the loud snort from her horse — a betrayal in Aryadne's eyes — that broke his focus and he froze when he saw her. He hurriedly sank into a deep bow, his dark curls falling across his face. "Apologies, Your Grace. I did not see you."

"Neither did I," she replied with a shy smile. With a disapproving glare at the horse, she took a step towards him. "You were here last night, when everyone was at the feast."

"Your Grace?" It was a request for her to elaborate.

"It's all right, I snuck out. But you seemed... agitated, if I remember correctly. Why?"

He gave a shrug and sheathed his sword. "It is nothing you need worry about, Your Grace." The title grated on her. It was uncomfortable to hear in her own home but here, under the shelter of another noble house, it did not seem right to be honoured so persistently. With a simple look, she urged him to explain himself. "Lady Stark thought it best for me to stay out. I am a bastard of his Lordship."

She nodded curtly. "Thinking to spare us the 'insult', no doubt. What is your name?"

"Snow, Your Grace."

"Well, I know that. All bastards of the North are Snows. What is your name?"

Confusion gave way to astonishment. She wondered if anyone had bothered to ask before, especially those of noble birth. Bowing his head in shyness rather than deference this time, he mumbled, "Jon."

"A pleasure to meet you, Jon. And you may tell Lady Stark that I won't take offence to your presence at future gatherings — my mother, I cannot speak for, but she is outvoted. After all, most of my siblings are bastards." At the widening of his eyes, she winked. "Don't tell anyone I said that. Although, considering my father's lack of discretion regarding his tastes, I doubt it would make much impact."

He opened his mouth to reply but the main doors opened for the wave of servants. With a nod farewell, she returned to her steed and began to saddle her. A servant hurried over with her bow and quiver which she also fitted.

"What brings you here, Your Grace?"

At Robb's voice, she turned quickly and found him to be smiling already. She mentally kicked herself for somehow forgetting that there were a myriad of things in the world capable of making a person smile, and she was likely to be last on the list every time. Her hand flicked in the direction of the quiver and she started to lead her horse from the paddocks. "Why, I'm joining the hunt. I do hope it's still going ahead?"

He stared at her, almost tripping over his own feet as he fetched his own. "I— I didn't know you could— N-Not to say that you can't. I just wasn't aware that you had an interest in... this."

It took great effort not to laugh. She adopted a stern expression, lips pursed and a slanted brow arched. "Of course not. I suppose I should be embroidering a lady's favour instead?"