The Spare to Winterfell (ASOIAF OC)

White Harbor

"We've almost made it White Harbor. You should be able to see it once we're clear of these woods." Ser Donnel Locke said.

"It'll be good to have a nice mug of ale," Torrhen replied, cocking his head towards Ser Donnel Locke, the man leading the dozen guards accompanying him on the journey.

Donnel was a tall man, with a sturdy build that hinted at years spent training in the rough terrains of the north. He had an ash-blonde beard, cropped close to his face, and intense green eyes, and cladded in chainmail with the sigil of his house - three black water lilies on pale violet. - prominently displayed on the surcoat.

They had departed from Winterfell roughly a week before and he often thought back to the moment he left his brothers in the courtyard. Both of his little brothers had been saddened to see him go, with Rickon clutching at his leg, begging him to stay, while Bran had to hide his tears in Hodor's arm.

Robb had remained stoic during his departure, maintaining a serious front in the presence of the few servants and nobles who watched. Torrhen knew his brother's true feelings, however. He knew Robb would not have seen him gone if it wasn't paramount to keep relationships with the northern houses strong.

As they rode on, the dense forest began to thin out, revealing glimpses of the distant sea. The road widened, and the air grew saltier with every mile.

Ser Donnel Locke rode ahead, his posture straight and eyes sharp, while Torrhen followed, surrounded by the remaining guards. The sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestones signalled their approach to White Harbor, the largest city in the North.

White Harbor's white stone walls gleamed under the afternoon sun, a stark contrast to the grey skies that often blanketed the North. Ships of various sizes dotted the harbour, their sails billowing in the breeze.

The smell of fish and brine filled the air, mingling with the scents of fresh bread and roasting meat from the market stalls lining the streets.

"Welcome to White Harbor, my lord," Ser Donnel said, as they passed through the gate, greeted by the city guards who recognized the Stark banner. "It's always a sight to behold."

They made their way to New Castle, the seat of House Manderly, situated on a hill overlooking the harbour. As they climbed the incline, the sounds of the bustling port faded, replaced by the quieter, more refined atmosphere of the castle grounds.

The path was lined with well-maintained gardens and marble fountains adorned the grounds

New Castle itself was an imposing structure, its white stone walls rising high above the surrounding buildings. The castle's towers were capped with blue slate roofs, and banners bearing the sigil of House Manderly—a merman holding a trident—fluttered in the breeze. The guards at the gate, dressed in the Manderly colours of blue and white wielding their tridents, stood at attention as Torrhen and his entourage approached.

Torrhen scrunched his nose up at sight of the seven-pointed star of the faith, reminding him that while White Harbour was in the north, it was influenced by the southern gods.

The Manderlys originally hailed from the Reach but were exiled by House Gardener a thousand years ago. During their exile, House Stark, who then ruled as the Kings of Winter, welcomed the Manderlys into the North, giving them dominion over the Wolf's den, and allowed them to keep their faith.

As they dismounted, a steward came forward to greet them. "Welcome, my lord. Lord Wyman Manderly awaits you in the Great Hall."

Torrhen handed his reins to a stableboy and followed the steward into the castle, Ser Donnel and the guards trailing behind. The interior of New Castle was as impressive as its exterior, with high ceilings, intricate tapestries, and polished marble floors.