The Snows of Winterfell: The First Song - Vengeance of the She-Wolf

Line One: Ellaria

Line One: Ellaria

They are gone, all of them, and she was alone.

Ever since Father was murder in King’s Landing, she had seen no one; it’s hard to tell which of them were even alive. Mother, Father, Robb, Richard, Arya, Bran, and Rickon—all of them, they are gone. Sansa surely isn’t so far behind, as Ellaria obviously had not seen her since the day everyone left for that wretched place in the South. I am so alone here, in Winterfell.

Robb and Mother had let her come with him, and we let Bran and Rickon die alone for our foolishness. With father gone, Robb and she were old enough to be considered grown, no longer children to be protected from the ways of mortal men. Mother and  did our best to help him when he called for Father’s Banners, and Greatjon Umber declared him King In The North—was that before or after Grey Wind decided to try a bite out of him for insulting my brother in the first place? That night was so wonderful and full of smiles that she couldn’t remember, as heavy as her wine flowed despite her inability to hold it for long.

It had been the only way to keep Father from getting to us, to go to war and keep ourselves distracted from the pain, to turn it onto the Lannisters in retribution—and then it all came crashing down that long night, one month ago. The world ended all over again, Ellaria was afraid to fall off of its face and into an abyss. Robb won every battle he fought in, ceased lands held by turncoats who backed the Iron Throne and all of the things it stood for. That night, they were betrayed, and almost all of it was torn away again—she could hear them screaming, the men and Mother and Robb’s pretty wife, Talisa. She could hear Grey Wind howling and fighting the kennel they had locked him away in, preventing him from escaping and saving them all. She herself was only alive by the grace of the Old Gods and Lord Aerik Mormont, although he refused to be granted anything deserving of his bringing her home to this burned city before the Freys could kill her as well.

They call her the She-Wolf and Queen in the North now, and gave her her brother’s crown. It’s so heavy—too heavy –and almost too big for her; even though they were twins, Robb had almost always bene bigger than Ellaria, along with Jon. He’s gone, too, a sworn brother of the honorable Night’s Watch. She wants to hate him for escaping this place when he did—she is reminded of them, all of them, every day.

But she will have her revenge. The She-Wolf will burn the Crossing, and launch every Frey into their own fucking moat, their riches tied to their wastes and their hands and their ankles. The She-Wolf will flay every Bolton and feed them all to his bastard’s bitches.

The She-Wolf will bury them in the snow.

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Ellaria awoke from her thoughts with a small yelp into the dank air, shivering uncontrollably in the deep darkness, having nearly pitched herself down the narrowing, wilding stone steps that would lead her to the entombed. Her cheeks were itching and threatening to freeze on her cheeks as they were, and it was something she could not have, her skin cold and surely as white as snow. She was having a difficult time holding them back, despite the fact that she was presently without human company. The young woman held a lantern in her grasp to light her way, as the old and heavy ironwood door kept most of the light out.

She knew she could not show her pain on the surface, not now—not when she had a duty to keep as level a head as possibly for her people. Too many were expecting to see her strong too soon, and she was afraid to show how much pain she was really in. Yet here in the Crypt of Winterfell alone with her direwolf, the young Queen knew she could let her heart scream over and over where no one but the spirits would hear. Well, them as well as Ser Markus Reullis—a good friend who had a somewhat irritating habit of finding Ellaria when she didn't want to be found.