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shining-m00nlight · 3 months ago

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Seeking comfort

Ned came over to the tub and bent down to take one of her hands. Gently he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

”What weighs on you?” he asked, his voice as soft as his kiss.

Valentines fic a day late!! I love them and they’re in love!!!!!!

Ned did not wait for an answer after he had knocked, merely came inside.

“Good evening, my love” he said with a smile.

He was in a particularly good mood that night. Catelyn had noticed that when they took their supper, and it seemed that good mood remained with him. She wished she could have shared his high spirits.

“Good evening.”

Catelyn turned in the tub, put her arms up on the edge of it and let her chin rest on top of them. The air was cold on her skin compared to the warm water and a shiver went through her body, though she forced herself to remain that way.

“Have you no one attending to you?”

“No, I wished to be alone.”

At times she much preferred to see to it herself rather than have someone else’s presence in the room. Even as she could ask them to work in silence it was not enough. No, the fire crackling in the hearth had been the only companion she needed.

“Should I leave?” Ned asked. “I would not want to intrude if you desire solitude.”

“I very much desire your presence” Catelyn assured him. “Please do stay, my lord.”

Often it was different in regards to Ned. At times she wanted no one to so much as look her way but found that she did not mind having Ned by her. He knew when to merely share a room in silence.

Ned came over to the tub and bent down to take one of her hands. Gently he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

”What weighs on you?” he asked, his voice as soft as his kiss.

She had to sigh. There was no answer to that question, there was nothing that should have weighed on her. Some days were more difficult than others but that day had not been among them. She had even been allowed a walk in the sun.

”Nothing, in truth” she admitted. ”There is merely something in my chest.”

She had woken up to it. A feeling close to dread coiling within in her like a snake.

Ned gave her a long look before again kissing her hand.

“It will pass” he then said.

Catelyn was aware of that he was no stranger to sudden melancholy. How many times had she not held him through the night so that he could sleep?

”I shall hope so.”

What more was there to say?

When she fell silence he knelt next to her, but he did not let go of her hand. No, he took it in the both of his and held on to her.

It was grounding. His warm hands, rough with callousing from years of handling swords. One of his thumbs gently moving over her skin in a soothing rhythm. Not once did he look away, his gentle gentle gaze remained on her face

It did not entirely eradicate the feeling within her, but it somewhat lessened it. Made it less sharp around the edges.

”Is it not uncomfortable to sit like that?” Catelyn asked.

Ned tilted his head to the side a little.

”Not very.”

”Though a little?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips.

”Aye. A little.”

Catelyn reached up with her free hand and cupped the side of his face, hoping he did not mind his face getting a little wet.

”Would you like to join me?”

”If you will have me.”

”You know I will have you, Ned.”

He turned his head to the side and kissed her palm before standing up. From how he walked she could see it had been more difficult on his knees to sit like that than he had wished to admit. He was growing older.

As he undressed Catelyn sat back and closed her eyes. She was tired the way she would usually only be after a day that had been difficulty upon difficulty with no end. Tired to her bones.

”Gods, must you keep your bathwater so hot?” was the first thing Ned said when he had settled into the tub with her.

”I find this much more comfortable than your ice baths” Catelyn responded as she leaned back against his chest.

His arms around her were even better than him holding her hand.

”It cannot possibly be good for you.”

”You are free to discuss the matter with Maester Luwin, my lord.”

Then he merely grumbled something into her hair and so that was resolved. Often their small evening disagreements ended in a similar fashion.

What question came from hims when he reemerged surprised her.

“What say you we go for a ride on the morrow?”

“Only you and me?”

When had that last happened?

”Only you and me” he confirmed.

With how pleasant the weather had been the past days it sounded very appealing. Riding out from Winterfell with Ned merely because it was enjoyable.

Catelyn leaned away from him slightly so that she could turn and look at him.

”I say I would like that very much” she smiled. “We could take our midday meal out on the moors, return only in time for supper.”

“That we could do.”

When they kissed they lingered like that and for the first time Catelyn forgot the dread. There was a calm between them that was impossible not to yield to.

The next day would be better. She would ride out with Ned and the entire day would be spent away from Winterfell and in his company. There would be no concerns. There would be no dread. She was certain of it.

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shining-m00nlight · 4 months ago

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Rhaenys, at six-and-ten, was a fearless young beauty, and more than a match for her mariner. A dragonrider since the age of thirteen, she insisted upon arriving for the wedding on Meleys, the Red Queen, the magnificent scarlet she-dragon that had once borne her aunt.

Artist: Jota Saraiva

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shining-m00nlight · 4 months ago

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trans women, i love you.

you were a woman yesterday. you're a woman today. you're a woman tomorrow. you're a woman forever.

trans women have existed long before those stuffy bigots sitting in a court room have. trans women will continue to exist long after they're dead and rotting in the earth.

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shining-m00nlight · 4 months ago

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scientist!ned

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shining-m00nlight · 7 months ago

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Cat was really like: These losers not doing shit to save my love. Well got to do it myself!!!

Stained red

Day 3 of @nedcatweek: Assassination attempt

Her hand clutched the knife so that it ached. She had to hold on to it, she could not drop it under any circumstances. Not before or after it was done. There was no return.

“What are your demands?” Ned asked again and that time there was a quiver in his voice.

“There are no demands” the man hissed. “You are to die.”

He had pulled Ned to stand and Catelyn had looked up to find he had then put a blade to Ned’s throat. A moment, that was all he had needed. Nothing more. One moment.

“You’ll all drop your weapons” the man shouted as he backed himself up against the wall with Ned in front of him.

Not a single one did as they were told. Hands gripped swords and knives so that the knuckles whitened.

A drop of blood ran down Ned’s throat. A single drop of blood and no more. Catelyn watched it, her eyes followed it as it disappeared into his collar. It left a small, red trail. Noticeable even in the dim light of the Great Hall.

The fleeting thought of how well it was that the children had all been sent to bed passed through Catelyn’s mind before quickly disappearing. There was only the sight before her. All else had ceased to exist.

“Do as he says” Ned said, his voice calm.

Cold, even. He sounded as he did when he was particularly irritated with something or someone.

Still there was hesitance, still men held onto their weapons. They didn’t want to take his order.

“It is my command” Ned continued.

One after the other weapons hit the floor with terrible clanking that seemed to never end. It was grating.

How she hated them. How she hated that they laid down their weapons. That they listened to him. That they did not move to save him. He was all alone. All those people and he stood alone.

“No one moves” the man said through gritted teeth.

“No one is to move” Ned forwarded the demand.

Not that anyone had moved. What were they to do? Save him. They had to save him. Though no one moved. No one did anything.

They had danced. The two of them had danced the first dance of the night. Then when she had asked for a second dance Ned had complained of thirst. And she had sighed, but he had promised her a dance soon if only he could have a drink first. So she had gone with him back to their seats at the high table.

If only they had kept dancing. If only he had allowed her two dances in a row. Then he would not have had a knife to his throat. Then they would have still been laughing.

Ned’s eyes closed briefly before opening again, dancing wildly through the room. Desperately searching for something. A way out. He needed a way out. Someone had to help him. He was afraid. Was that the first time she had seen him truly afraid?

”What are your demands?” Ned asked, his voice still even and controlled.

Only when her hand touched the knife did Catelyn look down at it. Had she searched for it? Had she meant to find the knife? It was no weapon, she had used it to cut her meat when they had eaten. A common knife. Yet sharp enough to do harm. Surely sharp enough to do harm? If it could cut meat then it could cut flesh with enough force.

When she stood up she faced the hall ahead of her. Not one of all those standing below looked at her. They all looked towards Ned and his attacker. The man who had taken the feast as an opportunity to capture him and hold a dagger to his throat.

Ned stood between her and the man. Kept her out of his view. Would keep her hidden if she moved just right. Just right. There could not be a single misstep. Not one. It was so obvious she could not allow herself the thought.

As slowly as she possibly could she took a step backwards before stopping to listen. A few had caught notice of her movement. She saw their gazes wandering towards the knife in her hand. She saw their gazes fix on the knife. Wide eyes, mouths hanging open. All so deeply useless despite having sworn their lives to Ned. They had sworn to serve him. To protect him. Why were they not protecting him? How had they allowed that man to come all the way to their raised table?

Catelyn understood why she had forced herself to not turn her head even as she was moving backwards. She had not thought on it and yet she understood. Though it became unbearable not to see. Not to know what was happening to Ned. If he was still unhurt. If the man had yet to do him harm.

She should not have looked that way, she should not have met his eyes. It was a mistake, she knew it by how her chest exploded with pain.

Ned didn’t move, though his eyes widened. He looked at her with panic. With fear. He understood what she meant to do and didn’t want her to do it.

Though he could not tell her no. He could not shake his head or even mouth the words. All he could do was look at her.

Her hand clutched the knife so that it ached. She had to hold on to it, she could not drop it under any circumstances. Not before or after it was done. There was no return.

“What are your demands?” Ned asked again and that time there was a quiver in his voice.

“There are no demands” the man hissed. “You are to die.”

It was quiet. So quiet. Catelyn’s heart was too loud, he would hear her. He would hear her heart and her skirts rustling and the uneven breathing she could not stifle. He would smell the fear. It was all pounding in her head, louder than any drum.

A step backwards. She was still where the man could see her, surely he would notice her movements in the corner of his eye.

“Why? Why do you want my life?” Ned pressed on. “How have I wronged you?”

Another step backwards. Still he did not turn his head.

“You Starks, high and mighty in your castle while the rest of us starve through winter.”

How had he not yet heard her move? The floor creaked under her feet even as she took care not to make noise. Her feet would not cooperate, she felt her hands tremble at her sides.

“Is that my sin?”

She saw Ned’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took. His breathing remained even, not as erratic as hers. That was where she held her gaze as she moved behind them.

“Your sin?”

“The one I am to atone for with my life.”

“Shut up.”

Ned breathed heavily through his nose. From where she stood Catelyn could no longer see his face, though she saw the faces of everyone out in the hall. Saw their anxious expressions. Saw their anger.

Someone bent down to pick up the sword he had dropped.

“No!” was Ned’s immediate answer. “You will all remain still.”

His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. She was certain her own were the same even as she didn’t dare look down for one second.

“You will die” Ned mumbled. “Cut my throat and you will die at the hands of my men.”

“I am already dead.”

How long could she count on his hesitation to kill? How long until he gathered courage enough to end what he had begun? There would come a moment when the dagger pressed further into Ned’s throat, when the blade would slide across it.

“Aye, you are” Ned continued, his voice again soft. “You were a fool to do this.”

It was done before Catelyn had realised she raised her arm. Three quick steps forward, all force she could muster behind the swing, then the knife she had cut her meat with was buried in the side of the man’s neck.

There came a clucking sound from him as she tore the knife free and then put it again into the soft flesh. Blood poured out over her hand, impossibly hot.

She heard the thud of the dagger hitting the floor, heard a wheezing gasp as she repeated the stabbing a third time. There had been no intention to do it. It had merely happened. Catelyn could only watch.

He was much larger than her. Taller, heavier, had a broader build. So when he fell backwards she stumbled with him, hitting the wall and then sliding down to the floor with him against her.

She could not breathe. All air had been knocked from her lungs and he was heavy, so heavy, too heavy, much too heavy. And warm. The blood was warm, too. His head was on her chest and her gown was soon soaked in his blood. The blue fabric turning an odd shade of purple.

Catelyn felt the impulse to push him off her, she had to get him away. Though she could not. He was in her arms, his life was leaving him while he sat leaned back against her. Against her will she cradled him as he died. One of her hands still held the knife, though it was no longer in his throat.

Ned had turned to look at her, though seemed unable to move. Never before had she seen such shock in his often so controlled features.

“Ned” she managed to get out after an eternity had passed. “Ned, please.”

A moment later she was freed.

As she took her first breath, felt air flood her lungs, she turned her head to the side and met a panicked gaze. Dark eyes staring wildly back at her, pupils dancing around before going dim. It was mesmerising. The fear fading, giving way for the death. He did not look to be at peace, his face remained twisted, though the eyes were calm.

Before she could move Ned had taken her into his arms and was holding her to him. Kneeling next to her he held her to his chest with a strength she could not recognise.

“I killed him” she said softly.

One of Ned’s arms were around her back, the other cradled the back of her head. With how the side of her face was against his chest she imagined she could hear his heartbeat through his clothing.

“No one moved” she continued, unaware of her own voice. “No one helped you.”

With Ned against her she could not see them, though she grew aware of that they had all began to move. There were sounds of chaos, shouting coming from everywhere.

“Gods, Catelyn” Ned mumbled. “Why? Why would you do that?”

Ned moved both of his hands to the sides of her head and leaned back to look at her.

There was blood on his hands, she felt the stickiness on her skin. Or perhaps the blood had already been on her face.

“No one helped you” she repeated.

She couldn’t say anything but that.

“You endangered both my life and yours.”

“Should I have let him take your life?”

There was no answer.

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shining-m00nlight · 7 months ago

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and what's your opinion on Cat x ned?

Very good ship, 10/10 would recommend. It could be improved with a separated main/secondary pairing function on AO3, though.

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shining-m00nlight · 7 months ago

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Ah these once just hurt don't they!!!! Why would you do this to us????😢

Reach beyond

Day 4 of @nedcatweek: Lord and Lady Stoneheart

The guardsman fell to his knees, lowering his head. Under the cross gaze of their lady the rest found it in them to do the same. All filled with dread at the monstrous sight before them.

”Seven save us” one man mumbled. ”He lives.”

He had never been pious, though more and more he felt he needed what the gods had to offer.

’They speak of a man wandering these lands alone. They say he carries his head in his hands’ were the words that had been spoken to her. Ever since then she had been relentless. Barely letting anyone have a blink of rest, barely letting them stop to water the horses and have something to eat themselves. On and on she drove them. As silent as she had always been.

”What are we searching for?” a younger one asked. ”Why does she chase this rumour?”

It was clearly a tale told to frighten one another.

”She believes The Headless One is Lord Eddard Stark” an older one replied, having lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. ”We are searching for her husband.”

The younger one had shivered then. He was afraid of their lady. Their corpse walking. There could not be another one. There could not be two of the murdered Starks still walking.

What unnerved him even more was the thought of their lady loving. That there could be anything but burning rage in the red pits that were her eyes. In life she had been a wife and a mother, that he knew, but that had to be past. Their lady could no longer love. No being capable of love would do what she had done.

Even those among them who had initially been thrilled to follow the rumour eventually faltered when they found nothing. Days and weeks and moons passed and there was no sight of The Headless One. Though their lady wanted to hear nothing of returning to a camp. On and on they went in her fruitless pursuit of the man that had once been her husband.

”He does not exist” an older one said one night when their lady had disappeared between the trees. ”Unlike the talk of her these are baseless rumours.”

They all silently nodded. How would he have made it out of the capital? Who would have given him the kiss? How would he have risen? They all knew the Lannisters had taken his head. While their lady had floated in the river for days before she was brought back she had at least still had her head on her shoulders.

Still no one uttered a word of that to their lady. Rain beat down upon them from grey skies until they forgot what it was like to be dry and warm. They shivered through the nights and then shivered through the days. It was endless misery.

”It was one thing to enact revenge” someone said on an especially wet night. ”Though chasing her fantasies…”

She had been mad from the beginning. From the moment she rose. Though it had become something else entirely ever since she heard that the men and women of the riverlands whispered of The Headless One.

The man that had brought the rumour to her came to bitterly regret it as she forced him forward. It was no comfort that she had joined the hunt herself. Her silent presence was always there, a dark shadow that engulfed them. Would she ever tire of it? Would she ever realise they were chasing nothing?

One of them insisted they not speak ill of her or her chase. It was still Lady Stark. They had a duty to her. And if Lord Stark was truly out there they had to find him. The others had quickly grown tired of him.

”Of course you would say that, you were part of their guard” someone groaned when he had grown especially passionate in his defence of their lady.

”Shut it, stableboy” someone else had grumbled.

”I was and remain in service of House Stark!” was his response. ”And my lady will not tolerate disloyalty.”

Though their lady never said anything. They knew she could speak if she held her throat together, but she had not uttered a word since they set out. Silent she was in her pursuit. They didn’t know if she heard what they said even as they took care only to speak when she went off on her own. She had a way about her that implied she always listened, even when she was not there.

One day they all sat huddled together under a tree, trying to find refuge from the relentless rain. They passed most of their stops that way, there was no firewood dry enough to light fires with. They had all long since given up on the mere thought. Though at least their lady had allowed them a stop in the middle of the day so they could eat. Usually they had to move all the way until nightfall.

”She has been gone for longer than she usually is” said the guardsman.

”I don’t think you need to worry about her” said a younger one. ”Should anyone come across her they’ll run.”

He said it and though of how he himself had wanted to run the first time he laid eyes on her. The urge remained. There was something so deeply inhuman about her, he simply could not help it.

”And no one with anything at all between their ears would be this deep in the woods in this weather” an older one agreed.

Still the guardsman pushed himself up, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and moved to go towards where she had disappeared.

”You’ll get lost, you fool” said the older one who had just spoken.

Though before the guardsman could respond they heard someone move close by. A few seconds later their lady emerged between two trees. Several of them flinched when they saw that she held a severed head. Brown hair streaked with grey fell over her hands. That was all they could see as their lady held the head so that it was facing her.

”My lady, what is it—”

Another person came stumbling in behind her and they all screamed. It was a walking body with no head.

As they all scrambled to their feet, no one grasping the situation enough to understand how they were supposed to act, their lady carefully turned the head around so that they could see the face.

”Gods be good” the guardsman whispered. ”Lord Stark.”

The in life so neatly kept beard had grown long and shaggy, and it was a gaunter face than he remembered it being. Where the eyes had been there were empty hollows and around them were claw marks similar to those their lady had on her cheeks. Though there was no doubt in his mind about who the face belonged to. The nose and the mouth were the same.

The guardsman fell to his knees, lowering his head. Under the cross gaze of their lady the rest found it in them to do the same. All filled with dread at the monstrous sight before them.

”Seven save us” one man mumbled. ”He lives.”

He had never been pious, though more and more he felt he needed what the gods had to offer.

They were regarded with coolness before their lady gently laid the head on one arm so that she could use the other to take the body’s arm. Slowly she guided the body over to a tree and sat it down, placing herself next to him with the head in her lap.

It was long before anyone could tear their eyes away, but she paid them no mind. Merely sat there and calmly patted the head’s hair as if she was alone in the world with it.

The youngest was the first to look away and once he had done so he could not bring himself to look again. He was so nauseous he was certain he would cast up all he had managed to eat. The sight of those ghastly hands holding the eyeless head would be forever burned into his mind.

Many others shared his terror. No one would eat another bite. It would be many nights before anyone could sleep without nightmares.

While the others again gathered under the tree, pale and unable to speak, the guardsman went to sit closer to their lady and the body. He chose a different tree, but was close enough to hear her as she raised her hands to her throat and rasped out words.

”Ned” she croaked.

The eyeless head said nothing, of course, though the body managed to get an arm around their lady’s waist and held her to it.

When their lady smiled it was more of a twisted grimace. It took them seconds before they realised it was a smile. It frightened hem all, brought unease to the entire company.

Their journey was at end, they had found The Headless One. And he would return to camp with them and their lady.

***

She sewed the head back on the body herself. Gently and lovingly she stitched together his neck. Then the youngest one had actually vomited. In life she must have been skilled with a needle, though the rigidness brought on by her time in death caused the stitching to be crude and uneven. Still they all agreed he was less horrible to look upon when he was not in two separate pieces.

Once his head was firmly in place she dedicated herself to grooming him. Combed through his hair with her hands, cut it using a knife and then tied half of it back with a leather cord. The beard she could not do much about, nor could anyone else.

They all drew away as she tended to him. Had they spoken aloud then they would have found they agreed on that something was simply wrong with the entire ordeal. They tried to justify it to themselves, but could not escape that instincts told them to run from it. Something so monstrous was not supposed to be gentle. She was meant to be vicious and cruel.

Still they could not escape that the monstrosity had been done to them. Both had met their ends through cutting betrayal, they had not wished to be the way they were. The guardsman especially repeated it to himself. Lord and Lady Stark had been different than they were.

Most of the time the stitching around his neck could be hidden by cloaks and high collars. For a time he also tied a piece of cloth over where his eyes had been, hiding the empty hollows and the marks the birds had left around them. Eventually he ceased doing that. Perhaps he sensed it unnerved each and every person that was unfortunate enough to lay eyes on him. Everyone averted their gaze at the sight of the dark holes in his skull.

He was entirely blind and as silent as his lady, but he listened even more attentively than she did. Every little whisper reached him, and not a one could answer to how. They blamed the guardsman, initially, until they realised things no one told him still came to the attention of their lord.

The guardsman spoke of how cold his eyes had sometimes been before. Grey eyes as hard as stone that judged and judged and judged. The judgment seemed even worse when there were no eyes. When he turned his face towards them and there was nothing that saw and still he knew. Still he judged.

Their lady had had a habit of disappearing every now and again ever since she rose. Leaving them to wander the woods for a few hours at a time. She still did, though she brought their lord with her. He rarely ever left her side, as soon as they were both standing she was holding his arm. Between trees and through creeks and over roots she led him. On and on.

”Do you think they still..?”

The question was raised a dark night when they had again vanished.

It brought grimaces from all his companions.

”Why are you thinking of it?” someone else demanded. ”They’re dead.”

”They’re not, though” said a third. ”And they still… love..?”

He was not certain it was love. Could they love? Or was it devotion that lingered from what they had been before? They could not speak with one another. He could not see her. Though very often they sat in silence together. Never before had there been some resemblance of peace in their lady’s expression. And though what little remained of her hair was white and brittle their lord would run his fingers through it.

”They loved each other deeply” said the guardsman. ”It was known through the entire north.”

Before him they had done their executions by hanging. The noose had been the fate of all those they had managed to catch. So it was no more. Their lord had not lost his precision with his eyes. No, he swung a sword as he had in life. Enacted his wife’s justice rather than the king’s.

He would sit entirely still, almost as if frozen, until their lady had delivered her sentence. Then he would rise, his rotted fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

”Mercy, mercy” they would cry as they were dragged to the block.

Some were so young their voices broke as they wept. Boys not yet men. Though there was no mercy to be found once their lord had risen. Their lady had given her command and so he would put an end to whatever life he had before him.

”Lord Stark” a man begged. ”Lord Stark, I met you before. Your wife was with child, we spoke of the children. Please. Please, we spoke of our children. I am a good man, you know I am a good man. I have children.”

In spite of himself one of their own almost laughed, could not keep a smile off his face. How could one look at that thing and try to appeal to what had once been Eddard Stark? How could one gaze at his ruined face and believe there was a man there who would show mercy? Lord and Lady Stark were dead.

Their lord paused briefly. Their lady’s eyes burned more fiercely than they ever had. Red and hateful, her face twisted with it.

”You’re a Lannister man” said another. ”They’ve got you to thank for that they have no children.”

”I had nothing to do with it, I swear I had nothing—”

His head rolled all the same. His blood soaked into the soft ground, his eyes stared blankly at the sky above them.

”He mentioned their children” whispered a young one as they huddled around the fire that night.

”And the next man brought before them will pay tenfold for that” said an older.

”The scum will deserve it” someone else added.

Even so he shuddered. He pulled his cloak around him, blaming the cold. It was cold. Winter would soon be upon them.

”Winter is coming” the oldest among them said as the green was bleeding out of the leaves.

Their lord turned his head towards him and was still for a moment before nodding once. Indeed winter was coming. As it always did. Every summer had to end, life had to give way for the barren cold.

When the snow began falling it was gentle. Soft snowflakes danced through the air and covered the everything in a white blanket. The woods grew still and quiet.

It was only then it became apparent their lord did not breathe. White clouds formed before the faces of them all, but he did not breathe.

”Whatever brought him back is different than the kiss of life” someone noted sullenly.

Evil, he thought. Whatever kept him animated was not supposed to be in the world. That he would not voice, but he prayed. Each morning and each night he prayed.

”We’ll never know what brought him back. And I don’t want to know.”

Mere days after that first snow there was a storm. Winds made the snowflakes lash at any skin not covered and it was near impossible to see their hands if they held them in front of their faces. Biting cold unlike anything even the older among them had ever seen before. Winter as it had been in ages long past. Winter that put end to anything not strong enough to withhold it. True winter.

It was in this storm their lord and lady vanished. Out into the storm they went, never to return. Once the snowing eased enough for their men to search for them their tracks had long since been covered.

”They can’t have survived” the oldest muttered. ”The storm took them.”

Several others came to wonder if their lord even could die. Their lady lived through a kiss of life, she could be killed. But their lord had wandered headless for so long and he did not breathe. Nor did he eat or drink. Did he wander alone again? Had their lady perished in the cold?

”They meant to go somewhere.”

”Where would they have gone?”

They would never know. But among the people of the north there were soon whispers.

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