Rhaenys found great joy in her days at Winterfell, often spending them playfully avoiding Lady Catelyn or teasing her with lighthearted jests. It was a game of wits that Catelyn seemed to tolerate with a growing, albeit surprised, affection.

Septa Mordane, however, was a different matter entirely.

The woman was rigid and authoritative, possessing an emotional inflexibility that left no room for nuance.

She was incapable of seeing people as individuals; instead, she demanded that everyone follow the strictures of the Seven and adhere to every rule the Faith had established.

She was not a cruel woman, but she was fundamentally unyielding. She frequently attempted to force Rhaenys into her lessons, operating under the assumption that the girl was a follower of the Seven.

Rhaenys knew that even if the Septa realized the truth of her heritage, the woman would simply redouble her efforts, spending all her time trying to convert both Rhaenys and Elia to the Faith.

As was her custom, the Septa occupied a seat near the Starks during meals. She refused to sit at the high table, deeming it improper for someone of her station. Yet she remained close enough to observe and intervene when she felt her opinion may be needed.

Following breakfast one morning, she approached Ned Stark with a practiced, respectful air. “My Lord. Forgive me, may I have a word?” she asked, her etiquette beyond reproach.

“Yes, please, Septa. How may I be of counsel?” Ned answered, offering a polite nod of his own.

“You see, My Lord, I have tried my best to teach Lady Rhaenys how to be a proper lady. However, she refuses my counsel and prefers causing mischief in the castle instead,” Septa Mordane explained, punctuating her grievance with a sharp shake of her head.

Rhaenys’s lips thinned into a flat line. She shot a glance at her father, who merely nodded back, urging her silently to listen and remain patient.

“Would you command the Lady to follow my lessons?” the Septa added, gesturing firmly toward the girl.

Ned looked visibly conflicted. He had no desire to be dragged into domestic disputes of this nature. He glanced toward Ra, his eyes silently asking for the man’s thoughts with a subtle gesture.

“I thank you for your concern, Septa. Rhaenys is mischievous; on that, we can agree,” Ra said, his voice firm yet carrying a polite nod of acknowledgement toward the woman. “However, she receives her lessons in etiquette from her mother, and we both prefer this arrangement.”

The woman looked staggered, her face clouding as she prepared to argue further, but Catelyn stopped her with a sharp, silencing gesture.

“As you will, Ser,” the Septa sighed, her shoulders slumping as she retreated to her seat, shaking her head in silent disapproval.

Catelyn raised an eyebrow toward Rhaenys, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you, My Lady,” Rhaenys said politely, though the pout on her face remained visible for all to see.

Catelyn chuckled, reaching out to nudge the girl’s cheek before she rose and departed the hall.

Catelyn had intervened because she knew that if the Septa had persisted, it would have been interpreted as a direct insult to Elia’s capability. Catelyn had no desire to manage the political ramifications of such a slight.

Furthermore, she had grown to like Rhaenys’s playful personality. While she would never allow her own daughters to act with such mischief, for her girls would be proper ladies. She found she didn’t mind it in Rhaenys.

“I do think she needs to learn from someone in Winterfell, however,” Ra spoke in a low, contemplative voice toward Ned once the Septa was out of earshot.

Rhaenys whipped her head around, giving him a look of pure betrayal that made the entire table break into chuckles.

“Maester Luwin should be able to teach her history and arithmetic,” Ned suggested, casting a glance toward the Maester’s table.

Ra glanced at Elia, who gave a supportive nod. “I shall ask the Maester if he would be willing to teach her myself,” Ra said, reaching out to pat Rhaenys’s cheek.

Ned nodded and rose to leave. Ra waited until he noticed Maester Luwin had finished his meal and was preparing to exit before he made his move toward the Maester’s table.

“These lessons would just reduce my time with the wyverns, and you teach me arithmetic already,” Rhaenys grumbled to Elia in a hushed tone. Only Elia, Rhaenys, Zeus, and Aegon remained at the table now.

“Are you doubting your father now?” Elia asked, tilting her head with a playful sparkle in her eyes.

“N—” Rhaenys started, then shook her head and shrugged. She realized Ra must have a specific reason for this new arrangement.

“I will do my best, Ser,” the Maester told Ra, bowing his head in agreement to the request.

“Thank you, Maester,” Ra smiled, returning to his family.

Luwin watched the imposing man kneel beside Rhaenys’s seat, a warm smile on his face as the two spoke. He saw the little girl pout fiercely, only for Ra to kiss her cheek. Rhaenys retaliated by playfully biting Ra’s nose before she scrambled away, giggling.

Zeus roared with laughter, pointing at Ra’s nose.

Maester Luwin’s thoughts had shifted significantly since the family’s arrival. Initially, he had considered them a grave danger to the North. He had been particularly weary of Ra, given the man’s reputation and imposing physical presence.

The Maester had once believed there was no one in the castle who could stop Ra from harming the Lord and Lady if his temper were ever truly ignited.

It had taken time for that weariness to subside, though he still recognized that an enraged Ra would be a calamity. It was the moments of genuine affection between Ra and his family that had finally eased the minds of the Maester, the soldiers, and the guards alike.

By now, the castle’s focus had shifted to Zeus. Many were observing his every move to determine his temperament. Most had already deduced that Zeus was unconcerned with anyone outside his family, appearing as amiable as Ra but with a more pronounced, playful side.

A/n: Give me your thought on the chapter and reviews on the fic.

And.. you got any power stones? Well, hand em over then..

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