Darkness had fallen well before he finally rode through the gates of Winterfell on a horse that would’ve been better suited pulling a plough. The beast was enormous, but when its rider dismounted, it became clear exactly why. Towering over most men, Rodrik Forrester had arrived. The horse was set in the stables, where he lingered only a moment longer than one might have expected, taking in the sights and scents. As soon as the moment had happened, it was gone, and the cloaked giant moved towards one of the less obvious side entrances. He entered quietly, leaving his cloak on a pile that he knew from experience belonged to the servants. No other used these doors. He pressed through a small corridor, while the sound of voices grew louder.
Through the door, a cacophony greeted him. It was dim, with fires and sconces lighting the enormous hall. After getting used to the lack of light, he pushed past a few of the men standing by the edge of the crowd and made his way further in. It was hard to go unnoticed. A bear of a man with a thick, rough beard and arms with coils of rope for muscle was a sight and a half. Those that recognised him greeted him, though he had wished that they didn’t. He’d have much rather slipped by unnoticed. Being late as he was, he felt guilty. He had always considered Harlon a friend.
The food had long gone, which was a shame. The ride had made him ravenous, and his stomach growled in protest. But he would endure. Atleast he had finally arrived. He found himself a chair as the crowds shifted, and music began playing. The thing creaked loudly when he went to sit on it, but held true.
It was as he reached out to take a mug of ale that his eyes crossed the approaching party. With a sheepish smile he raised his mug up and then set it on the end of a table. “Do you think anyone noticed me?” He muttered, entirely aware that it must’ve been the most obvious entrance in the history of late entrances.
Arrana had a habit for staying to the edges of groups, hiding herself in shadows and avoiding people until she was ready to approach them. Of course, this often meant that she could slip away, back to her rooms and her books, but for her brother she stayed tonight. To honour their father, the crown, the North, though every fibre of her being told her to run.
The smile on her face was growing weaker by the minute, as the night continued. People were drunk, and yelling, and dancing. It was her worst nightmare. Just as she contemplated leaving, trying to convince herself she had done her duty for the night, she saw the late comer. Another person she knew, another person she at least had to greet, otherwise risking looking rude. While there had been a time she hadn’t cared about that, now she had much more awareness for social etiquette.
“How could they not?” Arrana asked, a glass in her hand. Rodrik Forrester wasn’t an easy man to miss, though with the current state of those at court, she was sure at least a few had. “I am sure Harlon will be happy to see you. I don’t quite know where he’s gone, there’s... So many people.” She said the word as though it was a curse.
