SHE HATED HER NEW “ HOME. ” she found herself missing the warm weather down south and all the sunshine she felt peeping through the windows of her room back in the keep. she hated waking up and feeling an instant chill her bones, a chill she felt as though she could never shake. she was a true southerner from the westerlands --- someone who was not supposed to be this far north. iren was made to live comfortably in summery weather, not in what she thought to be bone-chilling cold. she could not fathom that people could enjoy living in such a climate.
regardless of what she felt, her hound seemed to hold a different opinion. though the first snowfall both parties had ever witnessed was only but a brief one and was gone by morning, ottie was undoubtedly ecstatic. he bolted down to the bailey and directly into the first pile of snow, though a rather puny one. the sight of his eagerness, especially when he munched happily on a mouthful of snow, was almost enough to warm her freezing bones, despite the dirty glares and whispers from dreadfort residences. for the next few days, ottie would run down to the courtyard in search of more snow that may have formed over night, clearly unhappy when he spied none.
though people casted cruel looks upon her and ottie, no one dared speak anything to words directly to her. she was, after all, still a lady in the eyes of the common folk, though she no longer felt as one. she was not a willing residence of the castle like most of them, but rather a prisoner bound by an oath she was forced to say before a heart tree. if she had been told as a little girl, during a time where she fantasized about being whisked away from the terrible keep, that she was destined to marry someone, iren would have been giddy with delight. however, the entirety of this situation was more of a nightmare than a dream come true.
whereas she knew of the looks and judgmental mumbles, her dog was blissfully oblivious and trotted around merrily, sniffing at passing people and things as his owner trailed behind him. iren wondered if ottie’s unworried behavior was attributed to the lack of gregor’s presence --- he had yet to register the new threats they lived with, it seemed. he would carelessly trot into the deep, unfamiliar halls of the castle, occasionally barreling off like he did when his caught sight of snow for the first time. there was at least once incident a day and that one had been no different.
“ he is not one of his dogs, if that’s what you’re worried about, ” she said coolly and seemingly instantly, despite her slight breathlessness, after locating her hound. she leaned down to tug gently at the dog’s worn leather collar, signaling to him to back off, to stop sniffing at the person’s clothes, which ottie happily obliged. she did not know if the tenseness and fear that prompted her to say that was imagined or not. standing up, she finally caught a glimpse of his face. “ he is harmless. ”
starter for @serastium
