Amalthea Potter never really knew what she would feel when she finally got there... There, to that place she heard so much about, that place that would be her new home where she could finally make room in her life for a little happiness and hope, where she would spend the rest of her days... But what she felt was different from what she ever imagined she would feel, and her heart ached when she realized that some of what she felt was disappointment.

She wanted to cry and scream, and to cast spells left and right on everything and everyone around her. She had traveled so much, suffered so much, wished so much... For that?

Maybe it's my fault, Amalthea thought to herself with furrowed brows and a frown evident on her lips. I was fooled by Harlan's embellished words. He described a castle out of a fairy tale, a castle of fantasy and dreams, and what I see in front of me is merely a sand castle that has been knocked over by the tide and what remains is just waiting for a gust strong enough to knock down the rest... it will be a sand castle blown away by the winds and tides. Her grip on Masquerade's reins - which seemed to sense her tension - was so strong that her pale knuckles became bone white. I refused to listen to the warnings... Lord Stark, Maester Luwin... even dairy farmers and butchers commented on the situation that Moat Cailin was in but I refused to believe it.

Masquerade advanced slowly through the narrow marshy mud path, so slowly that it almost didn't look like it had even left the same place. Suddenly her ears picked up a familiar sound, a lingering wheeze that seemed to rise and fall quickly from her right in the middle of the confusion that was the land of her future home. Amalthea let out a breath that was a mixture of self-deprecating amusement and despair. And what a big mess that land was: shattered rocks, huge blocks - so big that it must have taken more than fifty men to lift it on what had previously been the outer wall - of oil-black basalt destroyed and sunk in the swamp.

As if it were fate laughing wickedly at Thea's unhappiness, there was a thunderous sound that seemed to have made the swampy ground tremble and the horses to neigh with furious fear, and a part of the wall already immensely destroyed collapsed. The black stone fell and shattered as it rolled down the wall, becoming smaller and smaller but still huge, until it reached the ground ,and landed in what they thought was a safe land area, with all its strength scaring the birds miles away. What seemed to them like a shiny solid lawn proved to be just an illusion, nothing more than green water turbid enough to trick the human eye, the stone sank in the water but did not disappear completely... It stayed there half-sunk, like a dagger in Amalthea's stomach mocking her childhood dreams.

Swirls, poisonous-looking flowers, one or two rotten carcasses of animals that would have been trapped in the quicksand that was that place until they died of thirst and hunger... And that insistent and almost contemptuous hissing that seemed to get louder and to be accompanied by many others...

Thea turned her head in the direction of the sound, squinted her green eyes like gems wrapped in thick layers of black that was her lashes, and looked in the direction of the sound that came from those dark waters. A long white snake slid in the middle of a rock, separating the water like a ship's hull separated the sea, moving quickly and disappearing from view with words low - too low for Thea to understand but loud enough to realize they were words - coming out of its forked tongue. The white snake disappeared again among the black basalt, but two others replaced it and now that Thea had been able to identify them, she was no longer able to unveil them... Snakes of various colors and sizes glided through the water, lurking, hidden, coiled on stones and animal carcasses, hissing and fast.

"Be careful." The young witch warned, motioning to where a smaller snake wrapped itself around the neck of a very dead goat on the spot, seeming to want to get inside its empty eye. "The swamp is full of snakes."

Beside her on top of his gray-white stallion, Robb Stark commented pointing to the swamp on the left side: "And it seems that snakes are not our only problem."

Amalthea was quick to follow his gaze and was able to capture a large, long figure in the water that at first looked like a mere floating trunk like so many others around, but which moved and two bright yellow eyes blinked slowly through the clouds of fog.

Seeing her confused face, Robb was quick to add: "It's a lizard-lion, their teeth are big and sharp as daggers and they are fast and strong. If they catch something in the water, nothing remains."

Like crocodiles or alligators, Thea thought, wishing she could grab her wand at that moment to keep herself prepared for any unexpected attack. "We will be careful then." She commanded, looking into the eyes of everyone in her group and making no room for discussion. Erena looked deathly pale and Lyessa also looked suddenly scared, but less than Erena. "Be careful with your horses and where they put their hooves, we don't want any accidents. Stay on track and close to each other." The slope path was narrow, but spacious enough for two or three horses to trot side by side. The good thing is that the further up the slope the more the path changed, and what was previously soft and swampy terrain turned into a dark stone that stood out under the green water like a bridge until the entrance to the wall.

"Hopefully the inside is better." Kreacher - Kadeem, his new name was Kadeem - commented, hopefully, looking at the huge towers.

But his hope was for naught, because the interior was just as destroyed - if not more so - than the exterior.

Black and broken stones covered almost the entire surface of the inner courtyard, crumbling under the horses' hooves when the tired group entered through the gate and its enormous roof: The so-called Gatehouse Tower (the one that appeared to be in the best condition) was the biggest of the three, more squat and broad than the others, but full of silt and moss that grew among the rocks on the north side, and fragments of the wall still standing on the east and west side.

The enormous Drunkard's Tower was named for the dangerous inclination of its structure, threatening to collapse completely at any moment, but managed to remain raised as if by the hands of the gods - and had remained so for hundreds of years. And the latter was known as the Children's Tower, straight as a spear, narrow and proud, but with its shattered top facing the rain and cold, wind and snow in any season in recent years.

They were gigantic and bigger than any tower in Winterfell, and once they might have been beautiful and powerful like the astronomy tower at Hogwarts, but now... now it was a mere reminder of the pride it had once been.

Amalthea shook her head full of hair as black as the night sky, feeling the damp air on her face and capturing the scent of mud and swamp, filling her lungs deeply with the scent that should have been of home but that at that moment was just the scent of the unknown, fetid and stagnant. Releasing a sigh, the young woman dismounted from her mare, who wiggled her ears and snorted when she was patted hard on the neck, and walked slowly through the chaos of ruins in front of her until she was a good distance from the group that was watching her in apprehensive silence.

Disregarding their opinion the witch knelt, dirtying the knees of her riding pants she was wearing under her dress, and raised her hands to the floor, closing her eyes. "Moat Cailin, the home of Harlan Peverell and now a pile of ruins." She commented to the air.

"It wasn't always like that." She could almost imagine that Harlan would have told her, but he wasn't there when she called him.

She heard footsteps approaching and stopping near her. She recognized the tall leather boots from the corner of her eye, and when she looked up the copper-haired boy was looking at her sympathetically. "Are you all right, my Lady?"

"How did this happen?" She questioned calmly, the cloud of her breath mingling with the low fog that hung heavy within the shattered walls.

"What?" He was confused. The gray of his tunic only accentuated the color of his eyes and hair.

"This!" She showed him the broken black stones in her hands covered with gray dust, clenching her hands in such a fist that she felt the sharp parts of the stone penetrate her flesh. When she opened them again, tiny cuts bleed on her palms staining her skin red, and she let the pebbles fall through her fingers like sand. "How did this happen?" Amalthea's voice was ice when she asked again.

Robb's face, which had previously shown confusion, now expressed understanding. It was funny how the Heir of Winterfell was able to show maturity despite being a little younger than she was. There were times when Thea thought of him as a boy acting like a man, and sometimes as an almost man acting like a boy... but now he was the representation of knowledge and maturity, especially when he remained as royal as his father, and with a stubble of a red beard. "When Lord Peverell died, the lords of the North wished to have their own children appointed as lords of Moat Cailin, but the then Lord of Winterfell did not want your ancestor's home to belong to someone other than a Peverell and had it closed completely... I suppose that the fighting to acquire the lordship and the reluctance of my family to appoint a new lord lasted too long, because by the time things calmed down it had been too long and time ended doing what it always does to a house that is not cared for. At least that's what I was taught."

Moat Cailin belonged to the Starks until Torrhen delivered it to Harlan, an outsider in these winter lands. I still don't understand why, but that surely must have offended the other Northern Lords, Amalthea thought as she rubbed her hands on her riding pants to try to clean the blood. His body had not yet cooled and they were already throwing themselves at each other like wild dogs to acquire his lands for their second or third sons... Maybe they still don't know about me, but sooner or later they will know in one way or another and old offenses can be remembered.

"Despite its state, Moat Cailin remains impressive. I can't even imagine what it must have been like at its peak." Robb commented, interrupting her thoughts and making her examine him carefully. His blue eyes showed sincerity and empathy. "You will be able to bring it back to its splendor, I am sure, and we are here to help."

The young woman's heart skipped a beat at those words. She closed her green eyes again, taking a deep breath until her lungs were full of air and counting to ten in her mind. When she exhaled again, her blood roared in her ears and determination filled her veins.

He was right, she could do it. It wouldn't be impossible for her! The spirit of her parents joined her, the two lovers holding hands with proud smiles on their lips.

And for the first time that morning, Amalthea Potter smiled when she admired her future home: "I know I will."

----

The rest of that day was spent searching the ruins. What had once been a large house was now a charred structure, a skeleton of what it had once been, with destroyed stone and rotten wood everywhere she looked.

Apart from the several towers that fell at different strategic points and were in a higher area than the others, the central structure, where previously the castle and residence of the Lord of Moat Cailin had stood, was destroyed, the front and back walls having completely collapsed and the roof having caved in. In the few areas where the walls of the castle still stood, bits of mold darkened stone were randomly eaten by time, with the tops of the walls so pitted and worn away that the structure that should have been smooth and straight now resembled a maw of broken teeth. A few oval stone windows remained mostly intact, with the exception of the glass they previously had, with moss and creeping vines curling over the openings, joined by tall grass down the entire length of the castle.

They had searched the Drunkard's Tower finding cold rooms filled with so much dust that it made them sneeze repeatedly, huge cobwebs, piles of rat droppings every few meters, and nests of birds that had entered through the broken windows. In the few furnished rooms the wood was so rotten that one of the chairs they touched broke completely when Theon sat down. He didn't fall, but that moment was enough to make them have a good laugh, with the loud curses of the Greyjoy boy being heard throughout almost the entire swamp.

As much as the Children's Tower was in almost good condition - despite the lack of the roof - it couldn't have been said the same of the interior: they found a few rooms in the same conditions as the other tower, but were unable to inspect more than half of the tall structure as the spiral staircases had completely collapsed, preventing them from moving forward (at least in that moment when neither Amalthea nor Kreacher were alone). Half of it could be used, but the other half could not.

The day soon grew dark, the sky fading from orange to purple quickly, until it was cloaked in dark blue almost black, covering its vastness, with small stars dotting it. They decided to occupy the main hall of the Gatehouse Tower that night, and for the next several nights.

The hall was large with high ceilings of dark stone that matched the rest of the fortress, but its walls were covered with swathes of huge pale lichen. A huge central table almost filled the room with chiseled stone that was cool to the touch. They found the remains of a camp in one corner of the room as if someone had slept there some time ago, with leftover rotten food and animal bones that broke easily under Jon's boots and small frayed and ragged blankets. It was cold and the room was full of drafts, so they used these blankets to cover the glassless windows and were quick to light a fire in the fireplace blackened by decades of soot.

That night, they sat down at the table and ate roasted rabbit that Theon had hunted. Amalthea was sitting near the left end of the table, with Kadeem on her right side, Jon in front of her, and Robb and Theon beside him, in that order. The rest of the group remained a little further away, with the three maids not far from there.

"How are you feeling, my Lady?" Robb asked curious

The young witch took time to think, trying to organize her own thoughts and feelings. That day had been a storm of feelings, with so many different emotions being thrown at her like a bucket of cold water, that just thinking about it left her stunned. However, she replied, "Well, I suppose, I am very hopeful about rebuilding this place. However, there is still a lot to look at more closely, I want to inspect the towers thoroughly in the coming days."

The three boys nodded in understanding, and Kreacher beside her mumbled something too low for her to understand, but when she looked at him, the old man had no bad intentions on his face.

"Most things must have been stolen over time, I don't imagine there is much more to be found than what we already have." Theon sneered, while swallowing pieces of rabbit. The skin was crispy and the meat was tasty, and the boy seemed to know it extremely well, because he soon sucked on his fingertips and smiled placidly with grease on his lips.

Amalthea nodded, agreeing with his comment and returned the smile minimally. They started on the wrong foot, it was true, but for now the boy with brown hair seemed to be behaving. "I know, I am fully aware of that, but there is still much more to investigate."

"What are your plans for this place?" Jon questioned, surprising her not with the question itself but with the fact that it was he who asked it. This caused a small smile to adorn her lips, knowing that it meant that Jon Snow was gaining more confidence and did not feel that he needed to be quiet and restricted around her for fear of any repercussions that his bastardy could cause. It seems that their previous conversation had worked, making him open up a little more.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, I know I want to rebuild this place but there are so many things to do that I don't even know for sure where to start. I have to buy supplies, look for and hire builders, plan the architecture and whether I want the fortress completely the same as the original plan or if I want changes and do things my way."

"There must be plans of the fortress somewhere, if there are none here or back home, certainly there will be in the Citadel. When we return to Winterfell we will be able to search, and if we can't find anything, we just need to send a raven and ask if they have any. They will not refuse the Lady of Moat Cailin, or the Lord of Winterfell." Robb commented quickly, extremely focused on the conversation.

"Citadel? What is that, actually? I came across that name in one of the books I read about Westeros' history and kings, but I didn't do any further research." Thea asked, gaining a surprised look from the group, as well as a questioning expression from Jon. "My lords, please keep in mind that I was born and raised elsewhere." She was quick to add.

Not where you think, but that is just mere details, Thea thought with amusement.

"Forgive us, sometimes it's easy to forget that." Robb's cheeks took on a reddish color, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. "The Citadel is a complex of buildings in Oldtown, which is in the southwestern part of Westeros near the Reach. Men and boys from all the Seven Kingdoms go there when they wish to start training to become Maesters, to later serve a Lord as their counselors, healers and teachers for their children like Maester Luwin. And it is the place where the whole history of Westeros is guarded and controlled, not everyone can study or get in there... even the King has to ask."

That seemed very... stupid in her opinion. Having the information controlled by a few, and not even the King of that country having full knowledge of everything that was kept and stored? That could explain how Westeros looked so... stagnant, for lack of better words. How can anyone create new breakthroughs in anything if they are not properly educated? Only the maesters who stay in the citadel and are therefore under their control, have access to the education necessary to innovate. Things like crop rotation, irrigation, sewage systems, simple geometry, animal husbandry... these are all things that were discovered more than a thousand years ago on Earth that didn't seem to exist here, and all of them would have huge influences on health and food production. This does not even take into account basic medical practices, such as hygiene, nutrition, simple medical ointments and so on - all of which are only known by the Maesters, and therefore only practiced by them.

How could they want to move forward if they didn't learn? But... she thought, maybe that was the goal. A people without knowledge was a people easy to control, like a flock of sheep with their shepherd. Hadn't Dumbledore been the greatest example of this? With those bright little eyes behind the half-moon glasses, with his long beard and warm voice and his grandfatherly facade, making them trust him blindly... What no one had noticed was that the sparkle in his eyes was not warm but calculating, and he only gave them the information he thought pertinent, thus creating his flock... and raising her like a pig for slaughter.

Oh, how her blood boiled when thinking about it. She didn't censure herself, and expressed her opinion with the others, of course doing her best not to mention anything that might seem very modern.

As each word came out between her lips, their eyes widened more and more until they were wide open, as well as their mouths. They looked at her confused and surprised, until a clearing of a throat was heard and they remembered decorum and put a neutral expression. None gave their opinion, perhaps because they did not know what to say or because they were so taken aback, but Thea did not fail to notice the frown of the two brothers, and she was sure that in the future one of them would probably have a curious conversation with Lord Stark.

When asked what exactly was studied at the Citadel, feeling her discomfort, it was Jon who replied: "They study several things, and each chain means something different, but I do not remember precisely the meanings of all: I know that the copper one is for history, gold is for accounting and money, and silver for medicine and healing."

"Steel is construction and lead, poison..."

The young woman made a sound of understanding with the back of her throat, "This is very interesting."

And it really was... Thea had wondered about the meaning of the huge heavy chain - so heavy that it seemed that sometimes Luwin was bent over with its weight - that the old Maester of Winterfell had around his neck and that he had the habit of playing with it in his wrinkled hands when he seemed to be in a situation that caused him discomfort, as she came to notice earlier.

Robb then commented on something that caught her attention: "There are several other fields of study, and there have been people studying the higher mysteries for a long time, but not as much now."

"Higher mysteries?" She asked confusedly, her dark brows furrowed.

"Magic." Theon informed, interrupting his friend who already had his lips parted to answer, sounding severely bored but wanting to contribute to the conversation. Robb made an expression of amused annoyance, receiving a malicious smile from Greyjoy who threw a piece of rabbit at him. The piece of meat flew through the air towards him, but Robb was quick to move away and the morsel of food hit Jon directly on the chest, leaving a dark stain of grease on his brown tunic.

There was a loud laugh and Jon's brows - already drawn together- furrowed even more as he took the rabbit that fell on his black pants and threw it back above Robb's coppery head which ducked in time, and hit Theon in the middle of the forehead.

While the boys were entertained in their childlike argument, Thea brooded on her thoughts and what she had just heard. That mere word - magic - made something inside her tingle in a delicious and scorching way, as if her core understood what was being addressed there. What did the Maesters know about magic? she wondered. Would she be able to travel in the future (preferably in the near future) to the Citadel and investigate the hundreds of books and information they would have, and discover the secrets of magic in that world? If so, would she find something about the bone-white tree with blood-colored leaves, and the mysterious voices? Would she be able to find out more about the secrets hiding in the huge roots buried in the heart of the forest?

Her heart thundered in her chest, curiosity filled her veins and the skin on her palms itched with the desire to reach for her wand and use it properly. It had been so long since she had used her magic - since she came to Westeros more precisely... Magic was like a muscle that needed to be stimulated and trained, it was like a machine that needed to be oiled in order not to rust. It was funny because in her childhood, when she didn't know she was a witch, she didn't notice the difference but as soon as she found out that there was magic within her reach, she became almost dependent of it. Magic was addictive, compulsive... Just thinking about it made her want nothing more than to cast a spell, any spell: it could be anything, from lumos to the patronus, she just wanted to use her wand! She couldn't do it now, but that didn't mean she couldn't do it later, thought Amalthea Potter determinedly.

Pushing her thoughts away and showing a blank expression on her face, giving no evidence whatsoever that had been buried within her mind for a few seconds, she continued: "Magic?" Thea asked with a twinge of disbelief in her tone, interrupting the discussion.

Robb looked up at her with cheeks flushed from laughing and squinted eyes from smiling widely, the other two shooting deadly looks at each other over his head. "Exactly, but I remember that Maester Luwin explained that almost nobody wants to dedicate themselves to this study anymore because magic died with dragons. It is more of a theoretical matter, but surely if you ask him he would love to explain everything about the different studies of the Citadel to you."

"You mentioned that only men and boys study there..." Thea said, making room for an answer.

The boys looked at each other. "Women are prohibited." Jon informed him, giving Theon one last cold look and continuing to eat.

Of course they are, thought Amalthea. Her world had evolved so much and women now had as many rights as men - of course there were still some exceptions and some sexist idiots - but here women were scorned and seen as nothing more than a bed warmer and a broodmare. That thought alone caused a flame of fury to burn in her green eyes and his pink lips to tighten in a harsh line. Robb saw this and was quick to change the subject: "The Citadel should send a Maester here when everything is renewed, to serve and advise you."

Amalthea raised a questioning black eyebrow. "They know about me already?"

"Mayhaps? I am not completely sure, as far as I know my father has not yet informed anyone of your arrival, except the King."

"And why not?" Certainly Lord Eddard would like to inform the other houses in the North, it is the logical thing to do in this situation where an outsider simply comes to his country and his home and shows that is descended from a House that they thought was extinct. Thea thought to herself curious and minimally suspicious. If Lord Stark deliberately chose not to, why would it be?

At the same time that she was confused, she was also somewhat relieved... The less people knew about her, the better, as that would mean less attention and less eyes on her. That would change, but for now it was good.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Robb's reply, "I don't know the exact reasoning, but I would assume that he wants to make sure that you are serious in your plans to renovate your holdings."

What else would she need to say or do to show Lord Stark that she meant it? It was frustrating, to say the least.

"I understand. Where do you think I should start looking for builders?" What better way to find out more information than to question the people who have lived there their whole lives?

Robb finished dinner, gulped down his water and continued, his expression focused as the others listened attentively. "There are always people looking for work, you just have to make sure that they are suitable for the task at hand. I would look in the big cities, there are also some in Winter Town who are eager to help..."

"You can also hire builders from Braavos and the surrounding areas, they are some of the best as much as people in Westeros love to think that what is from the outside is inferior." Jory Cassel, who was close to Theon and overheard the conversation, gave his opinion. Amalthea liked him: he was a man with brown hair a little below the chin, with dark eyes and a thin beard that Thea had noticed that he made a point of trimming with his razor every few days during his trip. He could be a little serious at times, but he was quick to smile when something amused him or when he told some kind of story.

"It is true." Jon agreed.

"I've always been told that Moat Cailin was in ruins, but it was definitely a surprise to see it with my own eyes." Theon commented, regardless of the reaction his words might have. Out of sight and under the table, Robb stomped on his foot trying to stop him from speaking.

Thea noticed it but ignored it, letting out a frustrated sigh and rested her hands on the table. Her nails clicked on the stone, producing a small sound that was muffled almost completely by the guards' conversations and laughter. The mood had improved now that they had finally arrived where they were meant to be, and they had a roof over their heads once again. "I know, Maester Luwin had already warned me about it but it still cost me to believe."

"Yes." Robb agreed.

The rest of the dinner had gone smoothly, as well as the night and the next dawn. Ruins of what were once something, were thoroughly inspected at that time.

They found what appeared to be an old nursery, with beds that were so rotten that they were eaten by termites, with sheets that were once white as snow but now were a jumble of shades of yellow, brown and with a few stains of what must have been blood but which had turned the color of rust. The old straw mattresses full of mold and the smell of rotting were torn, with a small nest of rats inside one of them and full of fleas that bounced back and forth.

Further south, they came across a few shattered barrels, broken looms, what appeared to be an old forge with a dirty and dented anvil, and a broken hammer half stuck in one of the rotten structures. In the center of the fortress, where the castle had been, a few charred and badly treated training dolls with arrows all over the body had been placed there, near the remains of a fire and broken bottles (they supposed that whoever had camped there in those days might have found the dolls, dragged them close to a hot fire and had fun in the wildness of a night of drinking). Theon pulled out the arrows that were in good condition, and after examining them, he joined them with his own.

Having decided to examine the towers once more, Amalthea went first to the Children's Tower, closing the rotten door behind her and going up the stairs, entering each room finding more of the same. At the top of the destroyed stairs, looking down at what could become a bad fall, she removed her holly wand from the invisible holster, and without much delay launched a simple 'reparo'. The many fallen stones on the lower floor rose quickly into the air some faster than the others, and one by one they were aligned until, where previously there was only air, were now some brand-new stone stairs, as if nothing had ever happened. The young witch was quick to enter the last two rooms of the tower (the broken part of the top was completely empty, as she verified being careful not to be seen by prying eyes).

Inside the rooms, she searched under the bed and mattresses (the ones that were left), in each open corner between the stones in the walls, through the cracks in the floor, and found two books on a fallen shelf that were so old that when she opened it the pages almost fell apart at the slightest touch, which prompted her to cast preservation charms at them to keep them intact. The rooms didn't have much, as everything else, but the windows were wide and tall enough to have a view of more than a hundred meters outside the walls, so Thea guessed it must have been the watchmen's quarters. With the two books under her arm, she went down the stairs again, and cast a silencing spell making it impossible for anyone nearby to hear when she destroyed the newly built part of the stairs again.

It was at Drunkard's Tower that she met Robb, Jon and Theon, who were curiously investigating the rooms once again.

"Did you find anything?" Amalthea asked, entering one of the rooms in the middle of the tower. She saw Jon and Robb talking quietly across the room, stopping when they saw her coming, and giving her their attention.

"Nothing, my Lady." Jon replied.

"What exactly do you want us to find? This place has been looted a long time ago, what there was to find has already been found by other hands." Theon commented bored, leaning against one of the moldy walls near the door, removing the dirt under his nails with a small knife. The tone of his voice showed disinterest, and it seemed that whoever had done all the analysis work had been everyone but him.

"Anything, however small it may be." Amalthea commented, giving him a cold look.

"What do you have there?" Robb questioned, interrupting what could be a conflict because Theon had made an unfriendly expression and was already opening his mouth to refute.

"Two books I found."

"Can I see them?"

"Of course." She handed him both books. "I think one of them is about King Baelor I. I didn't have time to see the other." She informed him.

The heir of Winterfell scanned it before passing it quickly to Jon, who also leafed through it. "Yes it is."

The other was a thin book with a brown cover, black insignia, and broken at the corners. In large, dark letters, in a cursive handwriting they could read 'The Children'. Interesting title, Thea thought, as she watched Robb shake the dust with the back of his hand, and carefully open it. His hands were gripping the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them. It was true, there was no reason to deny it.

"Oh... This is about the legend of the Children of the Forest, there is one about this place too." Robb informed, frowning.

"What?" The young woman with black hair asked loudly, surprised, quickly approaching and turning her body until she was side by side with the red-haired boy, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. Robb handed her the book carefully.

"It's a legend, old Nan used to tell us all the time, remember Jon? How the Children built Moat Cailin with the First Men, more than ten thousand years ago. Everyone knows this story."

"Well, obviously not everyone." Thea commented, with a smile in her voice.

Her fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in her mind quickly as she read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to her mere seconds. There were parts where words disappeared with time, other pages entirely stained, and still others full of holes and impossible to read. But, as the boy had said, there were stories about these so-called Children of the Forest, and one of them was about Moat Cailin...

She didn't know much about them... No, that was wrong. Now that she thought about it, Amalthea realized that, in fact, she knew nothing about these Children. No one had ever mentioned them, nor Harlan when he told her about Moat Cailin, or Lord Eddard, Robb, Jon, or any of the other Stark children, at least that she remembered, and Thea liked to think that her memory had improved a lot over the years.

Then, lowering the book and deciding that she would read it later and more calmly in the comfort of her bed - if a pile of blankets on the floor could be called bed, but she had already slept in worse things - in the small camp that they did in the Gatehouse Tower, Thea closed it completely and directed her attention to Robb and Jon who were watching her intently. Theon was still apparently uninterested, still cleaning his nails carefully.

"Tell me more about these Children of the Forest." Amalthea asked gently, focusing her green eyes on the two wolf-blooded boys.

Jon raised a dark eyebrow, but other than that his face was still frowning. That boy always had a brooding expression on his face, no matter what emotion he felt... At least that Amalthea had noticed, but what did she know? She hadn't known him that long, and what she knew was little. "The Children do not exist anymore. There are those who believe that they never existed, but my father thinks otherwise."

"Maester Luwin too."

"So now I need to know, tell me more." If those two men who looked so serious and intelligent believed in something, it was because there were really reasons for that.

"Shit!" Theon suddenly swore loudly, dropping the knife on the stone floor with red drops of blood running down the length of his finger. "The fucking knife escaped me." He continued, putting his finger to his mouth.

Robb frowned, giving him a serious look. "Theon, pay attention to the language."

"Oh, be quiet Stark... As if I never heard you say the same kind of things."

"Theon!" The redhead warned sternly, and at that moment he looked so much like his father with a straight, tall posture and eyes like ice.

His response was an eyeroll and a sly smile with blood-stained teeth. "Have you never heard of the Children in Essos?" Theon questioned ignoring Robb. His finger continued to bleed quickly, making it look as if thin streams of red ran the length of his hand up to his wrist and then disappeared from view into the sleeve of his tunic.

"No." Amalthea said promptly, the lie quickly came to her mind. It was funny, the more she lied the easier it became. She hoped it would stay that way, or else there could be problems in her future. Looking at the blood and the boy who continued to put his finger to his mouth, the Potter girl took the handkerchief that she had with her inside the bag that she wore at her waist (next to the sword), and approached him. Theon looked at her confused. "At least I never heard it, but my whole life I stayed with my own until my parents died. I suppose my family didn't know that much about Westeros' customs and all its hundreds of legends. Give me your hand."

Theon did so, confusedly and almost hesitantly, casting a strange look in the direction of the other boys who remained silent. Thea lifted the handkerchief inspecting it - it was white and adorned with small black birds embroidered and made of silk, from the fabrics Kreacher had brought back what looked so long ago, and had been a gift from Sansa - and deciding that it was not necessary tear it up as it was her first intention. She folded it in half and then again, turning it into a small rectangle and wrapped it around Theon's hand, making a knot and keeping his fingers together in order to press the wound that ran along the inside of his middle finger on his left hand, stopping the blood. The handkerchief that was pure white immediately started to get a shade pink, but Thea didn't care and was sure Sansa wouldn't mind either - and if she did, it wasn't as if a wash wouldn't make it look like new again.

"Keep it that way, if it doesn't stop bleeding you may need stitches."

"I-" Theon cleared his throat, a shade of pink appearing between the thin brown strands of his sparse beard. "Thank you, my Lady."

"You don't need to thank me." Turning in the direction of the other two, she gave them all their extremely curious and eager attention to know more. "Now, tell me more."

The other two looked at each other, blue as ice and gray as a winter sky meeting, before Jon raised and lowered his shoulders and gestured to Robb. The redhead paused, frowned as he looked at the fungus-stained stone ceiling, and after a moment opened his mouth to speak: "The Children of the Forest were the first to inhabit Westeros, we believe that they were no bigger than a human child, but they themselves were not human, despite having many similarities with us. As I said they were short and soft, with big eyes like a baby and lemon color, with green skin wrinkled like plants or like the texture of a tree, with no hair other than the hair on their head, with four fingers in each hand instead of five, and with magic. They worshiped the Old gods, those who the north still adores and who live within the Faced Trees."

"Those stupid trees have always disturbed me." Theon commented interrupting, but he didn't seemed trying to be mean. In fact, he seemed almost sincere. He moved from the wall and sat in one of the rotten chairs that creaked and threatened to fall with his weight but surprisingly he stood up - unlike the previous one, and kept looking at his fingers wrapped in the now red fabric.

"That's because you never showed yourself open to learning more about the Old Gods." Jon replied coldly. He walked around the room until he was near the window without glass, where he looked at the swamp that surrounded them with dark curls swaying in the cold breeze.

A fun smile painted Amalthea's lips... The boy had even more beautiful hair than she did - which to be honest was not that difficult, she thought looking at the split ends in its black strands like coal. Her hair was a mess of curls and long waves that could be controlled by braids, but she was in need of a potion that would seriously moisturize it. She made a mental note to do just that when they returned to Winterfell, and perhaps trim the ends.

"My God is another one. The Drowned God is selfish and I would not admit that I worshiped another religion."

"You do not need to worship them, you just need to show respect. You live in the north now, and they are the gods of the north." Jon replied, without even looking at him.

Theon rolled his eyes with contempt. "Snow, I've never seen anyone more boring than you, did you know that?"

"You're not exactly the nicest person either."

Greyjoy's cheeks flushed, but before he had a chance to refute, Amalthea thought it best to interrupt. She didn't want to hear them send poisonous comments for hours, and Robb also didn't seem to want to - he looked as if he wanted nothing less than to get out of there as quickly as possible: "Do not start you two, I want to hear the rest, please."

Robb gave her a grateful smile, while the other two looked at her with an offended expression, before they fell silent and sulked in their respective places.

As if he had never stopped, Robb continued, "As I said, the Children were the first inhabitants and there were also the Giants... But twelve thousand years ago, the First Men arrived on the continent, and brought war and destruction together with them." As they always do, it seemed that this was the nature of the human race... "They burned the forests and vegetation, overthrew uprooted the Trees that the Children so admired and respected, and the children did everything to expel them from their lands. Blood was spilled on both sides, and when that wasn't enough the greenseers-"

"Greenseers?" Amalthea interrupted, even though she didn't want to.

Robb didn't seem to mind the interruption and smiled softly. "The Children's leaders who had magical powers," He explained. "including power over nature and the green vision that was the ability of prophetic dreams."

"There were also wargs who were people who had the ability to get into the minds of animals, but that is another one of many legends." His bastard brother pointed out receiving a nod from the redhead, and a bored murmur from Theon that Jon was quick to reciprocate.

Amalthea tried not to roll her eyes at those two, and thanked him mentally when Robb cleared his throat and continued once again. He was good at storytelling, as the witch was quick to notice: he chose his words carefully, even though he seemed nervous at times and paused here and there as if to organize his thoughts to express them out loud. Whoever looked at the Stark boy for the first time would never have guessed that he was that good with his words.

"The children of the forest used black magic to try to divide the continent and prevent men from advancing under their lands." His voice broke briefly as was normal for all teenagers, causing Robb to suddenly turn red from cheeks to the tips of his ears, with the crimson disappearing between his copper locks.The other two boys laughed out loud, but Thea ignored it. "It is not clear how, some legends say that they sacrificed a thousand humans to the weirwoods, others that the blood spilled was of their own, of their young greenseers, but whatever they have done has worked."

To her surprise, Theon, who had previously shown himself to be quite disinterested and who, for his entertainment, carved something with the knife with his uninjured hand - he was acting like the previous small accident had never happened - on the rotten wooden table full of termites. He carved and talked, talked and carved, but he never looked up from whatever he was doing. The only ones who looked at each other were Jon and Robb, and watched as Amalthea entertained herself shuffling in the sea of ​​old ash near yet another of the broken fireplaces - was there anything in that place that wasn't broken? - creating a stone path in a maze of rubble. "They separated Westeros from Essos, giving rise to what we call the Breaking in the Arm of Dorne in the Stepstones and the Broken Arm. But that was too late, the First Men already had a place of support in these lands and there was nothing that could stop them."

Feeling a mixture of different eyes in him, Theon finally diverted his attention from his task at hands - or rather, hand - and faced their surprised looks with a raised eyebrow and a disdainful smile. "What is it? I know the story too, that annoying old woman wouldn't let me get away from her until I managed to repeat it backwards."

There were times when the Greyjoy boy surprised them positively... Until he made some kind of stupid comment that broke any enchantment and admiration they might have felt. Not being bothered by the comment about that Old Nan - Thea had no idea who she was, but she would have to meet her in the future because she seemed to be a source of information and an interesting character - Robb continued where the older boy left off, "However, the Westeros break was powerful enough to demonstrate the power of the Children, and perhaps fearing their future losses on both sides or just knowing that fighting would continue to be useless, a peace treaty was made and thus ended two thousand years of war."

There was a serene silence that perpetuated the room after Robb had finally finished speaking. Thea was examining her hands, looking at the lines in her palm that no one else could see, while she thought. This had been a very interesting story, and the Children of the Forest, whether they really existed or not, were even more interesting. The way they had physically described them made her think of a house elf - perhaps because of the mention of being short as a child and with huge eyes... She still remembered Dobby's sincere, big eyes like tennis balls and her heart ached with the memory - but perhaps with more humanoid physiology. And they seemed to be powerful, very powerful, if they managed to divide an entire continent in half... Robb said that they had powers over nature, did they use elemental magic? And, she thought as she scratched the back of her hand where she had a bite (a damn flea had bitten her when she was in the ruins of the infirmary, but she had managed to kill the little parasite by picking it up with the tips of her forefingers and thumbs, rubbing them until stunning and then killing it between the nails of both thumbs like a louse) if what they said was true and these strange creatures made human sacrifices, therefore they used blood magic. If that was true, what else did they do? Necromancy? Other types of Black Magic?

Before she was too lost in her thought, the Heir of Winterfell added: "There is also mention of the Children in Moat Cailin."

"Yes." Jon confirmed, preventing without knowing the little 'What?' that Amalthea was going to release next. And the boy, normally silent, went on and on, surprising her. She had never heard Jon say so many words in the same sentence. "It is not known whether it occurred during the Breaking or if it was at some later time, but the legend is that the Children tried to use magic again to effectively break Westeros in two... Here in Moat Cailin, in the Children's Tower and that's where the name came from. However, instead of separating it, the land that was supposed to be hard became muddy and the swamp appeared in its place. It was a good thing, however, because during all the hundreds and thousands of years after that Moat Cailin never fell during attacks during the Andal invasion and while in the hands of the First Men. The swamp proved to be a good natural defense."

There was silence again, only interrupted by the sound of Theon's blade sticking and scraping on the wood of the table. Fed up with this, Robb approached him and grabbed the knife, quickly hiding it in his belt despite the boy's protests. Jon smiled amused and somewhat delighted by the other's misfortune, but the smile quickly escaped his lips when Theon made a smug expression showing what he had been carving for so long. It was... A mess of very crooked and not very deep lines, and what was there was not exactly very visible but it was identifiable enough: a stick figure being swallowed by a mouthful of triangular teeth, with tentacles that didn't even look like tentacles because they were short and full of hard angles instead of the normal flexible and non-segmented. But there was no doubt who the little man being swallowed by the poorly represented kraken was, because even if they could not understand at first sight, the letters forming a name quickly explained: Snow.

Jon quickly moved away from the window, looked at the drawing with an empty look and said, surprising them: "It is very impressive... but something is missing."

Theon's sly smile fell from his thin lips, and he asked confusedly, "What?" at the same time that Amalthea and Robb looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Lend me the knife." The boy full of black curls asked his brother. Jon approached the table, moving Theon slightly away, who was quick to drag the chair aside to make room for him - albeit with an expression of raised eyebrows and parted lips - and dragged the sharp blade across the wood, making a sound of scratching that filled the room for a few seconds.

When he bent down and blew the small chips and dust, and then he moved back to his previous place, the other three were quick to get close to see what he had done. And there was at the figure of the human being swallowed by the kraken, Jon added an arm that held a small sword, and the blade of the sword had entered the mouth of the monster, cutting it until it came out through the other side of the flesh, cutting through where the brain would be and therefore, defeating the kraken instead of being eaten.

Theon's face went from confused to expressionless, then went white as bone and his mouth fell open with shock. Over his head, both Robb and Amalthea were smiling, and when the boy finally looked up from the table, it was only to see Jon's singing smile and his knife flying out the window to sink into the swamp waters below. The next thing that was heard was angry screams and laughter.

But it was, however, when they left the room and went downstairs to the basement floor some time later, that something strange happened.

The basement of the tower, as it was possible to observe, had served in times as a cellar. It was a large and long space, with a floor, walls, and ceiling of rough-cut black granite for better conservation and cooling purposes, and full of huge shelves and barrels stacked on top of each other in different places in the great enclosure. However, where glass bottles and clay jars filled with wine must have been along the wooden bases nailed to the circular walls, there was now dust and cobwebs and pieces of glass from the few remaining bottles that glistened illuminated by the light coming from the trapdoor - used to get in and out of the cellar - and the barrels that had long been full of ale and stout were now completely empty. Many of them were destroyed, too. The wood was gray, and Amalthea approached one of them and ran a finger across its surface, only for her digits to return covered with dirt and a dark brown line to reveal where she had cleaned the dust, showing the true hidden color by layers and even more layers of dust.

"Well, I guess the tower isn't called the Drunkard's Tower just because it's crooked, after all." Jon commented.

"You don't say." Theon replied, causing Amalthea to roll her green eyes and move forward, past the boys and examining the shelves and everything she could find in that place.

Robb accompanied her, while the other two stayed to argue.

"Are they always like this?" The young witch asked, blowing dust from one of the barrels, examining the large 'P' hidden beneath.

"To be honest, practically since they met when Theon came to live with us. It can be tiring at times. "

Amalthea nodded, the black curls moving with the sudden movement. "My dearest friends were like that sometimes, always arguing until they drove me crazy, but in the end they would die for each other." The ones she was describing were Hermione and Ron, of course, those two who spent their lives in arguments sometimes for almost more hours than the days had, but who loved each other in the end. And, as always, the homesickness hit when she remembered their big smiles. "But that does not mean that it was not exhausting for those who had to listen to their disputes day and night."

Robb made a sound in his throat, then sighed and looked in the direction of the others who continued as they had left them.

"I do not know what else to do to try to establish a good relationship between them." His voice with that strong northern accent sounded tired, and he almost leaned against the nearest wall but moved away at the last moment when he remembered the dirt.

"Have you tried to ask them why they don't see eye to eye?"

"No... not really."

"Why not?" Thea asked confused.

The heir of Winterfell paused, his hand stopped at the metal spigot of one of the few barrels that, surprisingly, had survived the attack of thieves and unexpected visitors in all those years. When he spun it, they waited a few seconds but nothing more than three simple drops of ale came out, falling to the dusty stone floor. Completely drained, just like everything else... Wiping the dust off his hands, Robb finally replied: "Because, to be as completely honest with you my Lady, I am afraid of the answer and what it might mean for our relationships. They are my best friends, but more than that, they are both my brothers. And just the possibility of discovering that what they feel is not a petty rivalry and that it could be something much worse, scares me deeply."

And that made perfect sense to Amalthea, who, like the boy, had always tried to avoid choosing sides among her friends. If, as Robb had said, he asked and ended up finding out that Jon and Theon really hated each other, what would that mean for him who loved them both equally? Would he have to choose sides? How could he do that, if for him, they were both brothers of his?

In the background, the voices of those two continued to rise, but both Amalthea and Robb continued to ignore them. The girl didn't quite know how to respond, but she felt like trying to reassure the copper-haired boy and that's what she did, stopping and looking him in the blue eyes: "I am sure it's nothing. They are just too different, you know? Jon is a calm and very meditative person, and can sometimes be too serious but, in fact, he has reasons for being so. Theon is loud and exaggerated, likes to have fun and can be very arrogant... They both have very different personalities, and it is sometimes difficult to understand and relate to someone so different from us, but they try. As much as it doesn't always work, they try, and I think they do it for you."

Robb was serious, listening intently with attention in a strong and safe way. But there was something, almost imperceptible to someone without a sharp eye, but which Amalthea is able to observe: a contraction of a facial muscle, a small bite from the inside of the cheek, the way his strong jaw became sharper... but most of all his eyes shone, and the glistens of sadness in the depths of those blue orbs of ice were evident for her.

They didn't say anything for a long time, perhaps because they didn't know what to say or simply because there was nothing more to say. Amalthea looked away, trying to give the boy a moment to recover if he needed to, and kept busy inspecting the various shelves lined the wall in front of her looking for... she didn't even know what. The cellar had been looted a long time ago, and there was nothing interesting to see there. The other two continued to argue, and she wanted nothing more than to shut them up or bewitch them to do that, just to have a minute of peace.

She heard movement behind her, as if Robb was moving from one foot to the other nervously. She turned her body slightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, pretending to be entertained with a dusty clay jar that had its arm broken, and saw that Robb opened and closed his mouth several times.

"I-"

But whatever he was going to say was lost, for at that moment a loud sound was heard - a mixture of angry screams, the sound of something big breaking and a groan of pain. When they looked, Theon was standing where they had left him with fists clenched in fury and Jon was lying down, holding the end of his leg, and around him was broken stone and wood along with a cloud of dust in the air.

They hurried over to them quickly, Robb pushed Theon away with a strong hand in the middle of his chest while shouting, "What is wrong with you?"

"The bastard doesn't know when to be quiet!" Greyjoy shouted angrily.

"You two have to stop, you both are friends!"

The young witch made her way among the others and knelt down next to Jon. "Are you alright, Jon?" She made a point of looking into the gray eyes that sparkled with a hint of pain but were dark with anger, even though his face was blank.

"I'm fine, my Lady."

Amalthea ignored his attempts to push her away. "Is it your leg? Will you give me permission to look at it?"

"I am fine, do not worry." The curly-haired boy started to get up, before shivering in pain and falling back into his place.

"Jon, if something hurts you have to let me see."

Furious words were exchanged between Robb and Theon behind him, only increasing when everyone tried to make themselves heard above their loud voices. Jon sighed, taking off the leather boot on his left foot and lifting the hem of his pants to keep the fabric out of the way. "It's my ankle."

"Stop!" Robb shouted suddenly, furious and red-faced. "Get out of here, go away. Calm yourself down. "

"I-"

"Now!"

Theon examined the three of them from top to bottom, flushed and with lips turned into a thin line. He murmured something in a low voice, but it sounded like a mockery, and spat a ball of saliva at his feet before striding away with heavy footsteps, up the stairs and disappearing through the trapdoor they entered.

They were left in silence, each breathing a sigh of relief, and Thea finally got down to the job at hand. Her thin and elegant fingers touched the skin of Jon's ankle, trying to assess whether something was broken or deformed. "Does it hurt?"

"A little bit." Jon confessed with a frown, looking at his brother who stood a few feet away, breathing deeply.

"Can you move it?"

Jon made an attempt, groaning in pain but managing to move his toes and foot in the direction he wanted. Thea continued to feel his ankle, feeling everything with her fingertips. It was swelling rapidly. "Yes."

"Good."

"Robb, calm down." Jon asked, causing the redhead to finally stop and turn to them, walking hurriedly towards him, and kneeling beside his brother.

"Are you alright?" His response was a simple nod. "What happened?"

"It was Theon being Theon, as always. He wants everyone to be like him and thinks his word is law. He doesn't like to hear some of the things he deserves. "

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, I do not want to talk about it."

With brows furrowed in concentration, Thea closed her eyes for a moment listening to her heartbeat, pulling and pulling something inside her. Her hands were hot with magic, and she let it come out of her skin in waves, transferring it to Jon's flesh and concentrating on taking some of his pain away. The change in his posture was quickly noticeable, his shoulders eased from the tension they endured and his frown calmed down.

Finally, taking her hands away, Amalthea said: "I do not think it's broken, just twisted. In a few days it will be like new, but try not to put too much weight on this foot or move around too much."

Robb sighed. "Why can't you both-" he cut himself off suddenly, and when the other two looked at him, they saw that his gaze was focused on something just above Jon's head. Following his gaze quickly, they could see what he was looking at: a huge hole in the granite wall, in the very spot where the barrel that had broken under Jon's weight had been.

"I must have hit it when I fell." Jon commented, standing up with her help and shaking the dirt off his clothes. He followed, however, Amalthea's advice, and avoided putting too much weight on his injured ankle by supporting most of his weight with the other leg.

Robb approached, peering into the darkness seen inside the opening in the wall, trying to make out something with narrowed eyes. And he quickly did it, frowning. "It looks-"

"What?"

"It looks like a tunnel."

Thea stepped forward and quickly confirmed his words. "You are right, but it is too dark to see where it goes." It may be nothing, however, she thought to herself looking at the immensity of darkness, but why would it then be hidden behind a wall? Her fingers tingled and something inside her itched. If Hermione were there, she would have said something like 'You are too curious for your own good', and she would reply 'Now, Mione, don't be a hypocrite, there is no mystery you don't want to unravel'. But Hermione was not there, though the thought of it put a smile on her face and determination in her heart.

Seeing something in her facial expression, Robb sighed and put his hands on the loose pieces of the wall, pulling and pushing until they fell to the floor at his feet. Thea did the same, and it didn't take long for the cavity to get bigger and bigger until an adult person could cross it.

It was not long before they found two old torches, tearing a piece of fabric from Robb's tunic and soaking it in saddle oil, then wrapping it around the end of the torch, and lighting it. It came to life, the firelight illuminated their curious faces and with an exchange of glances, they started to move forward before Amalthea stopped suddenly and asked Jon with concern, "Can you walk?", And received an affirmative answer, they went on.

The tunnel was low and narrow, a meter or a meter and a half wide and all of it granite just like the cellar, but with so much mold that it made the dark walls even blacker than pitch. Both boys were slightly crouched, so as not to hit their heads, and Amalthea kept commenting to herself that for some reason it reminded her of a Hobbit Hole hall.

They followed in silence, Robb on the left, Thea in the middle and Jon more slowly on the right, both brothers each carrying their respective torch. The air was muffled and stale, and the further they went the more the path seemed to narrow with the walls seeming to close more and more around them.

"Where do you think it leads?"

"I do not know." Jon said exactly what Amalthea was thinking.

They did not speak again for the next five or ten minutes, while walking side by side along the granite path. The passage that started in a straight line did curve, first to the right, then another straight line and then a curve to the left. When they found out, they traveled curves and curves again, in a jumble of zigzags that did not seem to end. There was a hiss, and a huge brown rat started running at their feet, with a smaller one not far behind. Jon limped, not because of the pain, but to try not to put any weight on his ankle and not cause any further injury. Thea could have healed him completely, it was true, but she didn't. Both Robb and Theon had already seen that he was hurt, and removing Jon's pain entirely from one moment to the next with her touch would be suspect.

The silence between them was calm, leaving each with their own thoughts. The walls seemed to close more and more as the path narrowed again, and the soft flames of the torches sometimes cast curious shadows and flickered as if by gusts of wind. This was, however, impossible since they had moved far from the entrance of the tunnel and therefore from the only place where air could also enter.

But it was, after a few more minutes of walking in silence, that they found an obstacle in front of them.

"Oh!" Amalthea exclaimed, surprised.

It was a door... A large double door made of heavy, dark wood, reinforced and studded with iron nails to increase resistance, with iron bars as door handles and a shallow arch lintel, which contrasted greatly with the stone tunnel.

What was behind that door? Why was the tunnel hidden behind a wall? Was it just any room, any project that was never finished? Perhaps another cellar that had been abandoned, for whatever reason?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

The door was locked, as Amalthea came to confirm. Looking back at the brothers who were far but close enough to light up the way with their torches, feeling their curious gaze on her, the girl moved and adjusted the skirts of her dress discreetly in order to obscure their vision. It was then that she released a quick 'alohomora' and heard the characteristic sound of a lock being unlocked, and put the wand back in her sleeve.

When she put her hand on the iron doorknob and gave it a hard push, the door on the right opened but there was something that stopped her. There was something, she felt something... A whisper in her ear, a cold breath close to her that made the black hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"I-" She started, before interrupting herself and looking back, beyond Jon and Robb, at the immensity of darkness in the path they took. There was nothing there, she couldn't see anything, but she felt... "I want to go alone."

"But, my Lady-" Robb spoke quickly, alarmed. "Certainly that-"

"I need to go alone." She interrupted. Something told her that she needed, something in her heart, in her veins, a strange energy that ran through her body and an unknown voice in her ears... Only she could get in there. "Please respect that... It is my home, I may not even find anything, but I want to go alone."

She realized that neither of the boys agreed, but they honored her decision. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, you have your sword with you..." I'm not going anywhere without it, Thea thought. Nor without my wands. "If you need anything, call us."

And with a nod, taking the torch Jon handed her, feeling the heat of the flame close to her skin, Amalthea stepped forward and closed the door behind her, drowning out the sound of the two brothers talking quietly.

With the torch in one hand and the wand in the other, the place quickly lit up with a bright white light after the launch of 'Lumos Maxima'. She was so busy looking at everything around her that she almost fell on the short flight of five stone stairs that led to a lower level. It was a chamber... all of it made of roughly cut blocks of stone and black granite, long and rectangular - the length greater than the width, with low, vaulted ceilings. Every few meters a wide pillar was located, on both sides of the chamber, like a mirror, with cast iron candlesticks nailed to the stone. Continuing with the tip of her wand emitting an almost blinding white light, Amalthea used the torch to light all the candlesticks she saw, and the formerly dark chamber was now lit by the dancing flames in warm tones of red, orange and yellow.

She took her time examining everything around her, from the dusty floor under her feet, to the artfully and beautifully carved engravings on the vaulted ceiling. But it was in the front, a few meters away, that something completely stole her attention: a huge, tall stone platform... Completely undressed, except for the big chest in its center.

Amalthea followed the path quickly, her heart thundering in her chest, and climbed the two small steps at the base of the platform until she faced the wide, dark wooden chest, decorated with iron strips that followed the curvature of the lid but were completely rusted after so many years... She didn't think, she just reached out and opened it, listening to the wood and the iron cracking.

And it was as if the world slowed down and tinted black and gray, as if the chamber had suddenly become longer and narrower and the walls came closer and closer to her until she ran out of space to breathe. It seemed that she was in the water, her feet wanted to kick a black sea of ​​confusion and disbelief, fighting for her to escape from those waters and realize what was in front of her.

It was an egg. A huge egg of a light shade of sky blue, dotted with small spots and green lines some larger than the others, resting gently in the middle of yellow straw inside the trunk. A strange oval shape that seemed to glow in the darkness like a beacon of magic.

She heard her own blood in her ears and her throat was tight. She placed her wand on top of the stone altar, the white light going out immediately now that she was no longer in control, and carefully - very carefully, almost afraid, almost not even moving - she picked up the huge blue egg feeling the weight and texture in her hands, without believing.

She screamed.

She felt an intense pain in her wrist, so strong that it almost made her drop the egg. Then she felt the same pain in her palm, a pain that made her growl. When she looked, the marks visible only to her on her skin were turning pink and then quickly turning to a dark red, almost as if it were a raw burn. The marks of the two gods on her skin now looked like a wound about to bleed, and once again there was a twinge of pain that made her gasp and bend, taking a deep breath over and over again. But then she heard a crack... And then another and another, and yet one more again.

Crack, crack, crack... The sound did not stop and came from her hands, or more precisely what was in them. And when she looked, she saw small cracks appearing, small cracks in the egg sprouting under her fingers.

Crack, crack, crack, the sound went on...

Cracking and crushing in all directions from the outside, until the protective layer was full of them. The upper part of the shell broke and rose, and through the darkness and between the pieces of blue and green, a small beak erupted.

Author's Note:

1. Since there is not enough information about Moat Cailin in the books and in the show, I tried to work with what I was able to find but most of it is invented to fill in where there was no information or where the information was scarce. I advise you, if you want a deeper look at what is canonical, to search the internet or read the books - one of Theon's chapters in 'A Dance with Dragons' helped me a lot.

2. I don't think there is any information as to why the Drunkard's Tower is tilted, other than time ended up warping the stone and structure, but in my story this was due to the cellar and the 'chamber' below and its hollow dimension.

3. Also, if anyone is wondering, the central structure that used to be the real castle within the walls of Moat Cailin was invented. I based it on the ruins of Ehrenberg just imagining it darker and more mossy. There was, as far as I was able to put together, a real 'castle' in Moat Cailin but it burned and I decided that I would change that to stone, because for me it didn't make sense to have a wooden castle while everything else was stone and basalt.

I had many comments in the previous chapter, and I will try to answer them all, but I am sorry if any of them escaped me. I am sorry that this chapter took so long to be posted, but besides being busy I tried to take a while to make it as perfect as possible with the few capabilities I have. I will not lie and I will not say that this is not the chapter that made me the most nervous about posting, because believe me it really is, because I know that many of you were waiting for this moment. Please tell me what you think, and if you see any grammatical errors let me know.

Question: Should I continue to make long chapters, or do you prefer shorter ones? I personally like big chapters (this one has 12k words) but I want to know your opinion on the subject, because I know that long chapters can get tiring to read, but as I don't post every few days (I wish I could) I think that big chapters is good to compensate you!

Discord Server: As always, I again say that I have a discord server dedicated to this story where my readers and I socialize, exchange ideas, discuss the world of HP and ASOIAF, send memes, and we even have game channels like Among Us and Minecraft. If you would like to enter, let me know.

Until the next chapter, lots of love!