Stannon looked at Sansa, feeling a bit sorry for her. This was Westeros, where it was normal for people to marry young, even within their own families. But no matter how common it was here, he couldn't change the beliefs he had grown up with in his past life. The idea of being with a thirteen-year-old girl made him uncomfortable, even if this world saw nothing wrong with it.
Some things just couldn't change.
He was sure that because of how close Lord Stark and King Robert were, their families would eventually be connected through marriage. It was almost certain that he and Sansa would be engaged at some point. But love was different. He couldn't force himself to love a child, no matter what was expected.
Now, he had to figure out how to respond to her without hurting her feelings.
He took a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, looking at her gently. "Sansa..." he started, choosing his words carefully. "I appreciate you telling me this. It takes courage to speak your feelings honestly."
Sansa looked at him with wide eyes, nervous about what he would say next.
"But right now, my mind is focused on other things," he continued. "I have to train, learn, and prepare for my responsibilities. Being the heir to House Frost means I have many duties ahead of me. I can't let myself be distracted."
Sansa lowered her gaze, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress. "I understand..." she said softly, trying to hide her disappointment.
Stannon didn't want her to feel rejected. He wanted to reassure her without giving her false hope.
"I care about you, Sansa," he said gently. "You're important to me, and I value our bond. But feelings like love… they take time. And right now, I'm just not ready for something like that."
She looked up at him again, searching his face for any sign that his words meant something more. "So… you're saying it's not a no, just not right now?" she asked hesitantly.
Stannon gave her a small, kind smile. "I'm saying that we both have a lot of growing to do. You deserve someone who is ready to give you their full heart, and I can't do that yet. Not when I have so many things to focus on."
Sansa bit her lip, nodding slowly. She didn't look happy, but she wasn't heartbroken either. It seemed like she understood, even if it hurt a little.
"You're always so serious," she said with a small, sad smile. "But I suppose that's what makes you different."
Stannon chuckled lightly. "Someone has to be."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the fire crackling in the background. Then Sansa stood up, smoothing out her dress. "Thank you for being honest with me," she said.
Stannon nodded. "Always."
She hesitated at the door, then gave him one last look. "Goodnight, Stannon."
"Goodnight, Sansa," he replied.
As she left, Stannon sighed, running a hand through his hair. That had been harder than he expected. But at least he had handled it without hurting her too much.
Love, marriage, and duty—these were things he would have to deal with eventually. But for now, his focus remained on what truly mattered: growing stronger, preparing for the future, and surviving the dangerous world of Westeros.
Stannon sat in his room, eating his dinner quietly. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. Outside, Winterfell was calm, the usual noises of the day long gone. Only the occasional footsteps of guards on patrol broke the silence.
He wasn't planning to sleep.
This wasn't his first time sneaking out, but it would be his last as he was leaving for King's Landing tomorrow.
Ned had once shown him a secret way out of Winterfell—a path built long ago, hidden even from most of the castle's residents. He had told Stannon about it in private, after Stannon had asked him.
As midnight approached, he stood and moved to the window. He pushed it open, letting the freezing air rush in. Looking down, he spotted the usual guards at the main gate. They weren't a problem—he had a different way out.
A soft caw came from above.
Blackwing, his raven, circled overhead before landing lightly on the windowsill.
Stannon reached out, running a hand over the bird's feathers. "Time to move," he murmured.
He closed his eyes, focusing. His mind stretched out, connecting with Blackwing's. In an instant, he wasn't in his room anymore—he was soaring above Winterfell.
Through Blackwing's eyes, he saw the entire castle. The guards at the gates, the torch-lit walls, the empty courtyards. Then, beyond the main yard, near an old well covered in snow, he saw the entrance to the passage Ned had told him about.
That was his way out.
Returning to his own body, Stannon moved quickly. He stepped away from the window and quickly changed his clothes and disguised his face. After gathering his cloak and pulling the hood over his head, he jumped out of the window, easily navigating towards the place where the hidden route layed.
Reaching the well, he brushed away the snow and found the hidden stone lever Ned had mentioned. He pressed it, and with a quiet rumble, a section of the ground shifted, revealing a narrow tunnel entrance.
Without hesitation, Stannon stepped inside.
The passage was dark and cold, but he didn't need a torch. He moved quickly, feeling his way along the stone walls. The tunnel sloped downward, cutting beneath Winterfell's outer walls before curving upward again.
After several minutes, he reached the end—a small, hidden door at the edge of the Wolfswood. He pushed it open, stepping out into the cold night air.
Blackwing was already waiting for him on a nearby branch.
Instead of taking the main road to Winter Town, Stannon slipped into the cover of the trees. He moved silently through the forest, careful not to leave tracks in the fresh snow.
The lights of Winter Town appeared in the distance. Unlike the quiet of Winterfell, the town was still awake—traders, drunks, and those who did business in the shadows roamed the streets.
After adjusting his cloak, he entered the town in no time and moved quickly through the streets, heading straight for a tavern. It was noisy inside, with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air.
Stannon approached the bartender, his eyes scanning the room one last time before leaning in slightly. He spoke in a low, steady voice, his words carrying the secret weight of the code.
"The wolves howl in the night."
The bartender's eyes flickered with a brief moment of recognition, but he didn't respond immediately.
Without missing a beat, Stannon retrieved his a half intricately carved amulet from inside his cloak. He placed it carefully on the counter, waiting patiently.
The bartender retrieved a similar half from beneath the counter and after placing them next to each other he examined the pieces closely, confirming their match with a silent nod. The brief exchange was all the confirmation needed.
The bartender's expression softened ever so slightly as he tucked his half of the amulet away and motioned toward a door behind the bar.
"Follow me," the bartender said, leading Stannon through the back door and down a narrow hallway.
At the end of the hall, the bartender stopped and gestured toward a small, hidden room. "He's inside. Go on in yourself." He gave Stannon a nod, then turned to leave, disappearing back down the hallway.
Stannon took a deep breath and stepped into the room. As soon as he entered, a figure waiting by the far wall suddenly pulled out a sword and swung it toward him. Stannon barely had time to react, quickly drawing his own blade to block the attack.
The two of them fought fiercely, the sound of steel clashing echoing off the walls of the small room. Stannon parried a slash and countered with a quick thrust, but the man was fast, dodging the blow and landing a strike that knocked Stannon's sword from his hand.
Breathing heavily, Stannon stepped back, realizing he had been outmatched. The man lowered his sword and gave him a small smile. "You've improved again, Stormblade" he said, a glint of surprise in his eyes.
Stannon, still catching his breath, smiled.
"Well, anyone would improve with the First Sword of Braavos as their teacher,"
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