𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗

𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄

When she received the news, it was in the least expected time possible.

Elise hadn't been long within the thick walls of Winterfell, but she had adapted to the environment quite quickly – or so she hoped.

Truthfully, all she did was try not to be too much an inconvenience, because she understood perfectly that she was the one to be out of place there. During the first weeks, whenever she could, she would visit the Weirdwood, sit amongst the many growing red and green leaves, read a bit. But most of the time, the girl had tried to spend it in her room.

It wasn't much because she didn't like the people living in the castle, but because she'd been too afraid to even talk to them: all she did, she feared it might be considered lack of discretion – and none wanted to be around people who lacked of discretion.

Besides, the room she had been given fulfilled all of her wishes and more: it was grand, but not enormous; elegant, but not sophisticated; well-equipped, but not overdone. She's chosen it herself, among the ones she's been proposed: one of those was the Grand Chamber, but she could have never accepted it – in first place, she assumed that since Lady Catelyn was still alive, it would still belong to her; and in second, she knew better than thinking that she would be welcome to settle in there. When Maester Luwin, with his typical sweet, almost honey-like tone, had brought his offer forth, she'd first believed he was only pulling her a prank.

And, in addition to the room, the maid she had been given was also very much to her liking: her name was Martyna and – as she herself had told Elise – she was daughter to one of the cooks there at Winterfell, and had never been anywhere else (if the village immediately outside of Winterfell could be considered "somewhere else").

Martyna couldn't have been much older than she was, had light brown hair and big, hazelnut eyes, accompanied by plump lips who could be home to the warmest smiles.
She was sweet and considerate, but with the slight nymphet-like behaviour that was characteristic of young maids such as the girl. Overall, Elise had immediately judged Martyna as someone who could be considered great company: she was like a breath of fresh air for the young Frey, who was so used to high born people and the same, boring set behaviours that came with them – and that she was apart of.

Another thing that had started to fill Elise's days, moreover, was something she would've never even dreamed of when she'd first come to Winterfell, a couple of fortnights before: that was the daily hour of lesson she had willingly offered to prince Brandon, and then extended to prince Rickon.

It was exactly during one of those hours, when the three of them were comfortably sat within the Weirdwood of Winterfell, that a slightly shaken Maester Luwin had come, claiming to have a very important announcement to report to Lady Elise.

That day, they had been learning the basics to Volantese: the language was one of Elise's favourites, due to its richness of sounds and sweet, soothing tone (which – if books could be believed – transferred accurately also to the people of old Volantis, the first and most powerful of the Free Cities).

As he had proved right from the very first time, prince Brandon was very quick at learning: Elise couldn't have told if it were only because of strong willpower or if it happened to be a specific gift the boy had, but the prince had soon learnt how to distinguish Low from High Valyrian, and he had already memorized everything that Elise had told him about Braavosi.

"I practice at night", he had revealed when the girl had politely asked him the reason behind his excellent performances.

Elise had given him one of her brightest smiles – or so had been the intention. The girl had quickly taken a liking to Bran, probably because his being crippled, although oddly, she felt like it kind of brought them together: she, as the newly came girl who knew nothing about life in the North and the practical application of its traditions; he, as the recently injured boy who cannot play, train nor ride as the other lads of his age – which Elise suspected was the root reason of him spending his night practicing, instead of sleeping, tired from a full day of training at arms.

At the elder's words, Rickon had simply scoffed: Elise didn't need to ask to know that it was jealousy that made him talk that way. The young prince, in fact, had still not showcased his brother's talent in learning.

The girl, truthfully, had not been too surprised when she'd first found out: prince Rickon was more a man of arm – or boy, rather – than one of mind. He was irreverent and got distracted very easily, which were definitely not the best qualities when it came to sit down and study; but could brilliant ones in battle.

One good trait that Rickon had, however, that could be conciled with tongues, was his being acutely impulsive: that allowed him to answer certain questions more quickly, often even beating Bran, which Elise was sure was a great confidence booster for the boy, and probably also the main reason why he still hadn't given up learning something that, the girl was now pretty certain about, was not necessarily among his talents.

"Okay, good. Now try and translate this if you can: The brave knight drew his sword out" demanded Elise, in a tone she barely ever used (for she feared was way too commanding), but judged appropriate for a mentioner.

The two princes took a moment before answering: Brandon, quickly glancing at his notes (ordinately written down on fine parchment); and Rickon, gazing cluelessy at the blue sky that was only now starting to turn a more orange, warm shade.

But the answer never came, for that was the exact moment Maester Luwin suddenly walked in.

"Prince Bran, Rickon" he beckoned the two boys first, bowing slightly. And then: "Lady Elise" and another bow. "I came to refer some news of the utmost importance".

Elise flickered her brows, intrigued but also worried to ask more. Besides, it wouldn't have been appropriate for her to speak first, so she simply sat back and waited for Bran to reply.

This time, the answer did not have to be waited for long: "You may talk" the prince said urgently. "What has happened?"

The Maester smiled, which was such a contrasting movement to Bran's tensed ones that might've been unexpected, but didn't surprise the girl at all. Maester Luwin had never seemed stressed to begin with, and the words he had spoken hadn't been but simple formality.

"A crow from your brother has just come", he informed, "and it reports an intriguing and well-elaborated description of the battle he fought a few days past. There shall be time to read it more thoroughly later", he said, "but for now, it shall settle to tell you that he fought valiantly, and won" following these words were just Bran and Rickon's loud sighs of relief.

But the Maester still hadn't finished, for his eyes – apart from when he had raised them, after the boys' soughs, to check the reaction of the two princes – hadn't left the long piece of parchment he was holding in his slender hands. "King Robb also included a second part to the letter, which seemed to have actually been written beforehand" Elise didn't miss to notice the sudden change to a more formal tone in the man's words. "But the King explicitly requests it only be read by Lady Elise, if she pleases".

Elise felt like a bee had stung her, completely out of the blue. "Yes. Of course" she got up quickly, mechanically cleaned her grown from any grass stains and followed the Maester towards a quieter place in the Weirdwood, leaving all of her books behind – I'll take care of them later. This is clearly more important.

"King Robb wished for me to inform you on his decision" the old man took a deep breath, – perhaps because of the fast pace he'd just sustained, or maybe just because he wanted to create suspense – "to make you Regent of Winterfell".