"I, Alaric Stormraven, hereby welcome our dearest guests to our humble domain."
From atop the grand steps of Frosthaven's Great Hall, Alaric stood flanked by his children, all adorned in their finest furs and regalia. The chill in the air was palpable, but it did nothing to diminish the moment's warmth. Alaric's daughters, Lily and Lilia, barely contained their excitement, their faces alight with joy as they clung to each other. Their mother, bound to a chair due to her condition, gave them a gentle but firm hush. Shy and reserved, Benjamin held tightly to his eldest brother, who seemed to exude an unusual calm as if absorbing the weight of the occasion.
Before they stood the long-awaited guests, Lady Legien, striking and statuesque, towered over the crowd. She moved with an elegance that belied her strength, her simple black dress clinging to her muscular frame. The high slits in her gown revealed glimpses of her toned thighs with each step, an irresistible yet sophisticated choice that drew every eye.
Beside her, Lady Noira stood shorter but no less commanding. Dressed in a crisp white suit that shimmered like fresh snow, her long coat flowed around her like a dress. Though her attire was more conservative, covering most of her body, the open bust added daring. Both women bore roses on their chests—Lady Legien's a deep purple, Lady Noira's a vibrant red. Alaric wondered where the Ladies of Blackblood had found blooming winter flowers, but he knew better than to voice his curiosity. The boxes Lady Legien carried, wrapped in bright cloth, hinted at gifts or something more significant.
As Lady Noira stepped forward, her hand extended, she spoke with a voice with a strange accent. "We ta fur yer invitation 'n' hospitality, Laird Duke."
A ripple of whispers spread through the hall at the foreign address, excitement mingling with curiosity. Alaric felt the weight of his inner circle's gaze; they had spent countless nights planning this day, debating every detail of this greeting.
He shook Lady Noira's hand, his grip firm but respectful. "I hope this gesture repays your hospitality from before. I apologize for not greeting you at the gate; my wife's condition required my presence here."
His mind raced, recalling the discussions, the debates, the compromises. Bjorn had argued fiercely against waiting at the gates, an honor reserved for royalty. Yet, here they were, trying to balance tradition and respect. It was a delicate dance, one Alaric hoped he executed with enough grace.
"At ease, Laird Stormraven," Noira said, waving off his concern with a dismissive hand. " Ma hubby wad understand."
Alaric's curiosity was piqued as he noticed the absence of Lord Blackblood. "May I ask where your husband is?"
"Thaur was an emergency at VoidTech 'at required his immediate attention. Plus, ye an' yer advisors witnessed heem firsthain. Ah daur say his absence due tae ye mair favur," Noira replied. Alaric could not deny that status.
She nodded towards the boxes Legien held. "But he sends these as a token ay his compensation. is 'at yer fowk?" she asked, pointing in their direction.
"Yes. My dear wife, Astrid," Alaric turned to the woman seated in a primitive wheelchair.
To Noira, the wife seemed a bit too ordinary. Blonde hair and blue eyes—a beautiful combination, but her current skinniness made her look frail. A little makeup and some more food, and she'd look much different.
"Greetings, Lady Noira and Lady Legien," Astrid offered a slight nod, smiling.
"Guid day tae ye tay, mem," Noira nodded back.
"My children," Alaric gestured, his voice swelling with pride as he introduced his son, "John, my eldest."
The heir of Frosthaven studied the foreigner before bowing, which Noira returned with a nod. Alaric then motioned to his two young daughters, "My daughters. Lily and Lilia, the twins," and to the youngest, hiding behind his mother's wheelchair. "That's Benjamin. He's a shy one."
Despite Benjen's nerves and the twins' willfulness, all three bowed as they had been taught, and Alaric felt his pride grow.
"My second son, Matthew, is returning from the Middle States, due to return within three or five days."
Benjen stared at the lady in wonder. "So tall," he whispered.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He was immediately cut off as all six heads turned his way. Fortunately, he was not alone as the twins broke from their family's shadow and approached Noira.
"You're Ladies of Misty Woods," the eldest twin, Lily, spoke up.
Noira smiled as she kneeled to the girl's height. "Arenae ye brae ones? Aye," she nodded, "We ur."
"Are you both witches?" It was the second twin, Lilia, who spoke next.
Her question made everyone's heart stop. Her parents' eyes widened, and gasps erupted among the crowd before silence fell.
Before Alaric or his family could react, Noira chuckled. "An' affa blunt," she said, ruffling their heads. "Arenae ye tois jist a bonnie bundle ay trooble?"
"If it makes th' rumors soond better," she continued with a wink. "Aye, ye can caa me a witch. An' dornt ye fash yerse abit anythin'," she added, turning to the frightened couple. "I've bin called waur."
"I like your clothes," Lily offered, voice more assertive, deciding the ladies were not one of the storied horrors that kept them from venturing to the woods.
"Sharp een, tay. Woods loove tae gab mair, but Ah hink ye yoonglings woods prefer thes."
The twins and the youngest gasped as Legien bent down and placed the colored boxes in their eager hands. John, in turn, accepted his gift with thanks.
"Can we open them?" The twins synchronized, looking up at their lord father.
"Patience," Astrid hushed them while their father could only shake his head. The twins both blew raspberries at Alaric yet kept silent afterward as he urged their younger brother to unwrap his gift.
Every Stark retainer and servant watched as Rickard's youngest son undid the silk ribbon and bright-colored cloth, opening the paper box within. Every retainer and servant watched as Alaric's youngest son undid the silk ribbon and bright-colored cloth, opening the paper box. A monkey toy with a cane in his hand, dressed in fine clothes whose style was somehow familiar to Noira. Benjamin holds the toy in his hand, giving it a look. Intricately forged from metal, masterfully painted, and light despite the size.
"Thank you, Lady Blackblood!" Laughter rose from the crowd at Benjamin's exuberance. The lord and his lady smiled before turning their attention to their youngest.
"See th' key oan his back? Pat it oan th' flair 'n' gie it aboot ten spins."
Benjamin followed Noira's instructions and nearly dropped the toy in surprise. "It's moving!"
Even Alaric and his wife were captivated, watching the monkey dance in unison with the rotating key. Murmurs arose from those close by.
Benjamin turned to his father's guests, wondering, "Is it magic?"
"Na," she waved it off. "Simple principles ay physics an' mechanics. Th' monkey has metal gears; ye turn th' key, an' everythin' inside moves. Dae ye loch it?"
Benjamin could only nod, his eyes fixed on the toy. "Guid. Mah hubby wull be happy. He made that toy by haun, fae heid tae toe."
"Really?" The child asked; he seemed genuinely surprised, as did everyone else.
"Th' cheil was mony things afair he is whit he is the-day. Noo, th' twins."
Both girls wasted no time. Ribbons came undone, the cloth unraveled, and the box opened with a sense of eager anticipation.
"Another box?" Lily's brow furrowed as her sister wrestled with it, attempting to open it with sheer force. The ornate boxes, just small enough for the twins to lift with both arms, gleamed like oversized jewelry boxes, each a marvel in its own right.
"Nae yit," Noira snapped fingers, and Legien stepped forward, handing them two small keys. "See yer brother's toy? Thes one's th' sam, if nae better. Pit th' keys in th' sockets an' turn them until ye cannae anymair."
Lily accepted the key from the towering lady, inserted it, and lifted the lid. Instantly, music poured forth—a cascade of chimes struck by a half dozen invisible hands, producing a rhythm and melody unlike Rickard had ever heard. It seemed impossible, yet the mesmerizing melody, more intricate than any minstrel's tune, flowed from the box, entangling everyone in an enchanted spell.
When the music finally ended, Lily almost stumbled in surprise, clutching the box to her chest as if to protect its magic.
"Sonata No. 8 'Pathétique,' 3rd movement," she explained, pointing to the box Lilia held. "Sonata No. 14, 'Moonlight,' 3rd movement. Sam boxes, different songs."
As her voice trailed off, the spell broke. The crowd came alive with whispers and talk of magic, the silence left by the music replaced by excited murmurs. Alaric frowned slightly as the whispers verged on accusations, but the old maester of Frosthaven stepped forward just in time.
"With respect, Lady Noira and Lady Legien, are those phonographs?" The murmurs ceased, giving way to the voice of the learned one.
"Weel, weel," Noira turned to the old man with a slight chuckle, " At leest someain in thes hall has gray matter. Maester Fraud, Ah assume?"
"Yes, Lady Noira. This is a rare gift, milord. You will be hard-pressed to find a phonograph outside the Empire."
Alaric doubted the old goat's words but was thankful for his intervention. The order had been restored without the need for Bjorn or his guards. Lily and Lilia thanked the Blackbloods, glancing at the ladies occasionally with a mix of curiosity and awe. All eyes then turned to the eldest of the Stormraven.
John unwrapped his gift without ceremony, revealing a leather-bound book, moss green with silver lettering.
"Gladitoria," he read, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the foreigner.
"A combat manual," Noira pointed at the book. " A treatise oan armored fit combat, specifically fur duel fightin'. originated frae his current haem coontry," she added, her words were strange to Alaric and his circles. What does she mean curent home country?.
"Mah hubby thooght 'at since ye ur th' eldest, a practical gift woods suit ye best."
John regarded the foreign lady with a silence that his father had never seen in him before. He gave the book a final look, then met her gaze and nodded.
"You have my thanks, Ladies of the Blackblood."
Alaric and Astrid shared a worried glance. Their son alone knew the truth about the Blackbloods and the previous gift from Lord Blackblood. Alaric had deemed it right for his heir to know about this. The boy had been unusually quiet since then, and his parents feared they had made a mistake. Yet, despite his suspicions of their guests, they trusted him to honor his duty and word as a Stormraven—guests who had given gifts that would make royals envious.
"House Stormraven thanks you for these gifts and the kindness you have shown the people of the North." Alaric gestured for the ladies to enter the Great Hall. "You will find a warm welcome at my table and hearth."
Formalities: observed. Guest rights: honored. Gifts: exchanged.
Noira's special: not yet.