A Walk among Flowers

She led him into the grand hall first. The main building of the central keep of Winterfell housed the hall were feasts and banquets were held. Even though Sansa spoke of banquets in a way that made it obvious the Northmen didn’t really celebrate those and she so far only read and dreamed of them. She has said something about the hearths when Lyonel overcame his own wonder at actually wandering the halls of the Starks ancestral stronghold.

“… keep us warm, even in the depths of winter. Not that I ever found the castle to be utterly cold. Did you know that these walls radiate warmth? They are pulsing with heat from the hot springs under the castle. So we even if the outside is freezing, we stay well-tempered and we have a steady supply of warm water. Fascinating isn’t it?”, Sansa said and didn’t in the least sound fascinated. Instead she sounded like she wanted to impress, both with her families unique castle, it’s northern specialty, and her own knowledge about every corner of it.

“It is really impressive. I did not know there were such architectural wonders in the North, thank you for telling me. My lady, you are truly sophisticated ”, her beaming smile told him he had struck gold.

“A proper lady is versed in all finer things in life”, she did her best to give off a mysterious smile.

“I can only imagine. Is, by chance, literature among these? I’m an avid reader myself would love to discuss some of my favourites with you when the time is right. The tales about the heroes of old intrigue me the most. Most of the shining knights and dazzling ladies are from the South, but others like Symeon Star-Eyes were Northmen if I remember correctly. Do you also enjoy tales of chivalry and heroics or do I just sound like an idealistic dreamer to you?”

She reacted exactly as Lyonel had hoped the hopeless romantic in front of him would react. Unconsciously Sansa bit her bottom lip in a very un-ladylike fashion and nodded, before catching herself.

“Y-yes, I do. I’ve always loved these stories. Graceful ladies, foul beasts and knights in shining armor protecting the first and defeating the second. That’s a vision of the South to me, there is a certain magic in these tales that takes me to another place”, she answered and her eyes glimmered when she said it.

“If you ask me the North has its own magic to capture and inspire. For example I hear your godswood is a place of reflection and utter serenity. Would you be so kind as to show me?”

She nodded. Sansa was obsessed with the South, but the prince of so many dreams showing real interest in her home was flattering none the less. The couple made their way towards the sacred woods in the heart of Winterfell.

Entering it Lyonel was sure the temperature rose a couple of degrees, they were getting closer to the heated ponds. Around them the trees and shrubbery shone in bold colours and he actually felt a calm wash over him. This place had meaning and in a strange way Lyonels body responded to it.

Their continued stroll led them deeper into the woods, the wind rustling through the trees around him. With careful listening Lyonel could make out all kinds of small animals hiding away as Sansa and him got closer. A bunny hid behind the roots, a squirrel rushed to the top of the tree and, after giving them a curious look, a crow took her leave flying away into the distance. But the shy creature whose departure was the most stunning, was another.

When Sansa, walking half a step in front of him, stepped on a branch and made a creaking sound, there was rustling to the left of them. The telltale sound of an arrow zappig through the air, a suppressed shriek and the arrows impact are what Lyonel could make out with an attentive ear. His companion must have heard something as well, because she guided him to the left until they reached a clearing and found its flustered inhabitant hastily packing a blanket with items. Considering the way her body shields them, she probably doesn’t want anyone to see what she’s taking with her.

Arya. Still covered in a riders leather, Lyonel instantly recognized the bubbly butt of the kneeling figure binding her blanket into a tight bundle. It was the unnaturally thick Stark daughter. Since when does the little tomboy have such a booty?! If Lyonel would have thought about it soberly, he would have realized there is a logical explanation for it. As a noble she is probably very well fed and, based on her outfit, riding is probably her prime hobby. A solid workout for butt and thighs…. maybe. Who cares? Lyonel isn’t thinking soberly about it anyway.

He saw her butt become entranced its shaking. It might have been said that it rested on her heels, but talking about it resting would be a gross mistake. She was struggling with knotting her secret package and each struggling move of her hands also sent her behind in multiple directions.

What Lyonel did not notice, was Sansa *noticing* his gaze. She was her romantic and hopelessly naïve self, but in the matters of love and courtship, she was an expert. At least theoretically. Sansa had spent her whole life devouring what Lyonel would have called romance novels. She had heard a hundred tales of romance. About jealousy, tragic turns, harsh rivalries and true love conquering it all. And her mind had filled all these scenarios with her and her prince. Her sister was about to leave and when she was gone Sansa would steer this in the right direction again.

A flustered Arya finished her package and stood up, clutching her cargo tight to her body and avoiding eye contact. For someone that tried to give off an aura of toughness, such and insecurity was almost comical.

“Lady Stark, a pleasure to meet you again so soon”, Lyonel bowed his head in mock curtesy and Aryas face turned red in reply.

“Your sister is showing me the castle, would you care to join us on our walk?”, he suppressed a smile and tried to make it sound like a sincere invitation. Before Sansa had the chance to protest, as subtly as possible of course, Arya already regained her composure.

“Thanks for the offer your Grace, but I have urgent matters I have to attend to. If you’ll excuse me”, she bowed her head hastily, turned on her heels and rushed off. Her speedy steps setting her butt in motion again…

“Good, we’ll see you at dinner then dear sister”, Sansa said louder than necessary, obviously in order to get Lyonels attention again.

“Shall we move on then?”, he gestured to the path they just diverged from.

“Y-yes, we shall. But you see that Winters Rose down there it is actually really rare to have them bloom wildly at this time. Wait a second and I’ll get it”, Sansa set her ingenious plan in motion.

She did two steps into the flowers direction before purposefully “falling” forward. She made sure to land on her hands, but still dip her upper body as low to the ground as possible. That in addition to keeping her pelvis up high, drew the princes eyes exactly where she wanted them.

But her modest behind was not enough for Lyonel to lose his manners, so he rushed forward to help her stand up. He raised her chin upward and asked her if she was alright.

“I am now”, with a blush Sansa nuzzled her chin in his hand for the blink of an eye before averting herself and going a step towards their original route.

“Hold on!”, the prince tenderly called after her. When she turned back, her eyes sparkled into his. His hand was outstretched towards her.

“Didn’t you forget this, my lady?”, he held the blue Winters Rose in her direction.