Chapter Text
“Careful,” Jon said, steadying Serafina as she tightened her grip on his arm after almost slipping.
“You should listen to him, little sister,” Tyrion chimed in with a hint of concern. “Do you need to stop for a moment?”
Serafina shook her head, offering a determined smile. “No, I’m alright. Besides, we’re barely moving at all.”
“Well, we’re in no hurry,” Tyrion replied, glancing around. “It’s a lovely day, and you were right, there’s a certain quiet beauty in the godswood.”
Jon kept his expression composed, but he remained on high alert, ready to catch her if she stumbled again. He was determined to make sure Serafina returned to Winterfell without any new injuries. Nearby, Ghost and Grey Wind bounded through the snow, wrestling playfully, their carefree movements contrasting the caution in Jon’s steps.
“Maybe they could teach us a thing or two about enjoying the cold,” Tyrion quipped, watching the direwolves.
Jon’s lips twitched into a brief smile, but his focus remained on Serafina, ever-watchful.
“Have you gotten used to the cold already, Serafina?” Tyrion asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
“More or less,” she replied with a small smile. “I do like snow.”
Tyrion nodded. “Snow has its charms, I’ll give you that. Though I imagine it’s quite different from the warmth of the South.”
Serafina nodded, glancing around at the snow-dusted trees of the godswood. “Yes, but there’s something about the North that feels… grounding. A certain kind of strength in its cold and quiet.”
Jon gave her a small, approving nod, sensing the sincerity behind her words. “The North tends to grow on people.”
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hope it’s only the cold that grows and not any more injuries.”
The meaning behind Tyrion’s words was clear, and Jon noticed Serafina tensing beside him.
“Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson,” she replied, her tone light. “Less wine and more focus on what I’m doing.”
Jon couldn’t help but feel a surge of respect for Serafina. After all, she had refused to accuse Arya of anything, even though her fall had left her in pain for days. He knew firsthand how much she had suffered, and yet she had protected the person responsible. As much as Jon loved Arya, he couldn’t condone her actions, and the situation weighed heavily on him. He was concerned about his sister’s impulsiveness, worried about what might happen next.
Still, Jon was grateful for Serafina’s discretion, her determination to keep the matter within the family. She had proven her loyalty to Robb and the Stark name, and that didn’t go unnoticed. Though the situation with Arya remained precarious, Jon felt a deepening sense of trust in Serafina. He just hoped Tyrion’s sharp instincts wouldn’t uncover the truth too soon. The last thing any of them needed was a Lannister digging into Stark affairs.
“Less wine?” Tyrion repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Serafina said with a small laugh. “You know I don’t usually drink much, but it was my wedding feast. The ceremony was beautiful, held right here, in the godswood.”
“I’ve read about Northern wedding ceremonies,” Tyrion remarked, glancing at Jon. “The old gods are still highly revered here, if I’ve understood correctly.”
“Yes, they are,” Jon replied, his tone respectful. “The old gods have watched over the North for thousands of years. The godswood is a sacred place.”
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve always found it fascinating, how the traditions of the North hold such deep ties to the past. The weirwoods, the ancient customs... It’s all so different from the South, where people are always looking for the next grand thing.”
Serafina, sensing Tyrion’s curiosity, smiled softly. “There’s a quiet strength in the old ways. The godswood, the snow, even the cold… it reminds you of how small you are in the grand scheme of things.”
Tyrion studied her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the towering weirwood trees. “Yes, there’s something humbling about it.” He paused, then added with a sly grin, “Though I imagine the cold here is humbling in a far less poetic way.”
Serafina laughed lightly, grateful for the shift in the conversation. “True, but it builds character. Maybe you’ll leave Winterfell with a bit more Northern resilience.”
Tyrion chuckled, but his eyes flickered briefly to Jon. “Perhaps I will. Though I wonder how long it will take me to earn the favor of these old gods.”
Jon, ever the Stark, met Tyrion’s gaze steadily. “That depends on the man.”
Tyrion smiled knowingly but didn’t press further. Instead, he let the moment linger, allowing the sound of the wind rustling through the weirwood leaves to fill the silence. Even with his sharp mind and quick wit, he seemed to understand that some matters, especially here, in the North, were better left unsaid.
“You pushed yourself too hard, Your Grace,” Alina scolded as she helped Serafina lie down. “And you should have taken me with you.”
Serafina was panting, but she couldn’t help but smile. She had truly missed her handmaiden.
“I was in good hands, Alina, I promise.” She paused and glanced at Jon, who was looking at her with a worried expression. He had just helped her up the stairs into her chamber. “Thank you for your help, Jon.”
“Any time. Is there anything else you need?”
Serafina shook her head gently, still catching her breath but offering Jon a grateful smile. “No, Jon. You’ve done more than enough. Thank you.”
Jon gave a curt nod, his worry evident in his eyes. “Just make sure you rest. You need time to heal, Serafina.” His voice carried a quiet firmness, as though reminding her of the importance of taking care of herself.
Alina, fussing over her mistress, gently adjusted the blankets. “His lordship is right. You’ve been through enough already. If you keep pushing yourself, you’ll only make things worse.”
Serafina sighed, knowing they were both right but unwilling to remain confined for too long. “I promise I’ll rest. I just… needed a bit of fresh air today.”
Jon’s lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile trying to break through his usual stoic demeanor. “Fresh air is good, but next time, don’t try to conquer all of Winterfell in one day.”
Serafina laughed softly. “I’ll remember that.”
He glanced at her once more, making sure she was comfortable before giving her and Alina a final nod. “I’ll leave you to rest now. Call for me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Jon,” Serafina said again, her tone sincere.
As Jon turned to leave, Serafina’s smile lingered. Despite the pain and the challenges, she felt a sense of warmth in the care that surrounded her. As much as the North tested her, it was also becoming her home, filled with people who stood by her side.
Alina, finishing her fussing, finally sat down by the bed. “You should listen to him, Your Grace. No more running around Winterfell until you’re properly healed.”
Serafina chuckled. “Alright, Alina, I promise. For now, I’ll rest.” She paused and gave her handmaiden a warm smile before continuing. “Have you finished unpacking already?”
Alina shook her head. “Not yet, Your Grace. I spent the morning getting to know Winterfell. There’s still much to see.”
Serafina nodded. “Yes, and I want you to take all the time you need to make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Serafina took Alina’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Please, go finish unpacking. I think I’m going to rest for a while.” She paused and glanced at Naeva, who was sleeping peacefully, curled up into a ball. “I’m in good company.”
Alina glanced at Naeva, the sand cat purring softly in her sleep, before giving Serafina a small smile. "I see that, Your Grace. Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me."
Serafina nodded, squeezing her handmaid’s hand once more. "I will, Alina. Thank you."
With a respectful nod, Alina rose and quietly left the chamber, leaving Serafina alone with Naeva. As the door closed behind her, the room fell into a peaceful silence, the soft crackling of the fireplace and Naeva’s gentle breathing the only sounds to be heard.
Serafina leaned back into the pillows, her body still weary from the morning’s exertion. She let out a quiet sigh, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. She hated feeling weak, but today had reminded her that her body still needed time to recover.
She glanced down at Naeva, who seemed utterly content, and smiled. At least she wasn’t entirely alone in this, her loyal companion was always nearby, offering a quiet comfort.
As her eyelids grew heavy, Serafina’s thoughts drifted back to the godswood, to Jon’s steady presence and Tyrion’s ever-watchful gaze. She knew that her brother’s instincts were sharp, and it was only a matter of time before he began asking more pointed questions. But for now, she had done her best to keep the peace between the Lannisters and the Starks. And, for the time being, that would have to be enough.
With a final glance at Naeva, Serafina let herself relax fully, slipping into a much-needed rest.
“Hey, wake up.”
Serafina startled out of a deep sleep. For a moment, she felt disoriented until she noticed the figure standing beside the bed. Arya. Instinctively, Serafina tensed but managed to smile.
“Hello,” she greeted the girl. “What brings you here?”
Arya was quiet for a moment, her piercing eyes fixed on Serafina.
Serafina’s heart raced, though she kept her expression calm. Arya’s silence was unnerving, her intense gaze holding something unspoken.
“We need to talk,” Arya finally said, her voice low but steady. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the edge of the bedpost. “Does your brother know?”
“No,” Serafina replied, keeping her voice calm.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that would hurt Robb,” Serafina said firmly. “It would hurt you and your whole family. It could lead to more bloodshed and death. Despite what you might think of me, that’s the last thing I want. What about you, Arya? What do you truly want?”
Arya's jaw tightened as she absorbed Serafina's words. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, softened just a fraction, though her stance remained tense.
“I don’t know,” Arya admitted after a long pause, her voice laced with frustration. “I just… I don’t trust you.”
Serafina held her gaze, understanding the weight of those words. "I don’t expect you to trust me," she said gently. "But I hope, in time, you'll see that I’m not your enemy. I’m here because I care about Robb, and that means I care about you, too. You're his sister, Arya. I want to help."
Arya frowned, her fingers tapping the bedpost as she mulled over Serafina’s words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that,” she muttered, the confession barely above a whisper.
“I know,” Serafina replied softly, her tone free of accusation. "You were angry, confused. We all are, in our own way. But if we let that anger turn into something worse, it’ll destroy us."
Arya’s expression darkened briefly, the pain in her eyes barely hidden. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she confessed, her voice faltering. "Everything’s wrong. Nothing feels right.”
Serafina’s heart ached for her. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on Arya’s arm. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”
Arya looked down at Serafina’s hand, and for a moment, it seemed like she might pull away. But then, ever so slightly, she relaxed, her rigid posture loosening.
“You should hate me for what I did,” Arya stated, her voice devoid of emotion. “You could wait for the right time to get back at me.”
“Because that’s what a Lannister should do?” Serafina replied, raising an eyebrow.
Arya shrugged. “That’s what your house is known for, isn’t it?”
“That’s probably true,” Serafina admitted. “But that’s not who I am. I’m not claiming to be perfect, but I don’t hate you, and I’m not plotting to make you pay. I’m only hoping for a chance to find some happiness.” She paused, letting out a joyless laugh. “Wealth doesn’t guarantee happiness, believe me. Between you and me, there haven’t been many happy Lannisters. But what you have here… so many people who love you and would do anything for you. Who could blame you for wanting to fight for that?”
Arya stared at Serafina, her expression unreadable, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. She crossed her arms, a barrier still up between them, but it was clear Serafina's words had struck something deeper.
“You sound like you actually believe that,” Arya muttered, a mix of disbelief and curiosity in her tone.
Serafina nodded. “I do. Robb, Jon, your mother, Sansa, your brothers... they’re family. They all became my family as well when I married Robb. You’re my family, Arya, and I’m going to do my best to protect you and support you.”
Arya stared at her. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because you are worth it. You are worth fighting for,” Serafina said, her voice unwavering.
For the first time, Arya’s tough exterior seemed to crack, just a little. She uncrossed her arms and sighed heavily. “You’re either very brave or very stupid to trust me after what happened.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” Serafina replied with a faint smile. “But I’d rather take that risk than live in constant fear. I believe in second chances, Arya.”
Arya stayed silent for a long moment, then nodded. “I still don’t trust you,” she said, though her tone was less harsh than before. “But I’ll give you a chance… as long as you don’t give me a reason to regret it.”
Serafina smiled softly. “Fair enough. I’ll take that deal.”
Arya gave her a small, reluctant nod, the first one Serafina had seen from her since they’d met. It was fleeting, but it was enough to give Serafina hope. Without another word, Arya turned and slipped out of the room, leaving Serafina to exhale a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Maybe, just maybe, they could find common ground.