Thea moaned. Her head felt like it was going to explode, crack open like an egg. Surely her brain was going to melt through her ears like jelly. She had already gone to Maester Luwin to have something against the hangover -she’d rather not think about that again- and it did the job. But now. Now, amid all that noise, that blasted headache was back with a vengeance. The idea of slamming her forehead on the wooden table was appealing. Very appealing. But it would only make it worse. And people might think her crazy.

Honestly, adults sometimes acted like kids. Clearly, the madness of last night had not yet passed. She had seen Lord Umber drink what seemed like a whole keg of ale by himself. How he could stand the sound of his own voice was beyond her. 

“They will tire out, eventually, my Lady…” commented Lord Stark beside her. “It won't take long now.”

He sat in his chair, in the center of the long table of the Great Hall.  His eyes found Lord Cerwyn, who finally fell silent, fed up with whatever conversation he was trying to have with Lord Wyman Manderly. Wylla seemed to be trying to shush him, hopelessly.

Robb, who was sitting on his father’s side, didn't even open his mouth. To be fair, she didn’t recall hearing him talk all day. Not at breakfast, -well, to be fair, most of them were moans of pain and hangovers so it didn’t really count-  or at lunch or even dinner. Not since last night. He was expressionless. Maybe he had a hangover too.

Her mind groggily wandered to the conversation she’d had that morning with her loved ones. Her parents, Sirius and Fred. She didn’t call Remus, she knew he preferred to stay with Tonks and watch over little Teddy. Their pale bodies had shimmered in the clear morning light. She had explained everything to them, all the confusing events of the last days.

“Thea darling, we know… we were there with you the whole time.” cut in Lily with a beautiful smile. 

Thea’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

“I didn’t see you…” she pointed out, confused.

“We didn’t want you to, pup.” smiled Sirius.

His hand waved over Thea’s head, pretending to ruffle the already messy hair on top of it. It made her even more confused. How could they have hidden from her? Since she had become the mistress of death, she could summon the dead souls with a mere thought. It never occurred to her that some of them could purposefully hide from her.

“Why?”

“Your life has been so messed up lately honey, we didn’t want you to worry about us too.” James had answered with a fond smile.

Right before their departure, Fred said something to her. Something that stayed on her mind for the rest of the day. 

“We’re already here, we always will be. But there is no reason for you to get distracted by the dead.” he had paused, and added with a painful voice, “Don’t be like George.”

It had almost made her sick. Her gut twisted with a sour feeling that stuck her tongue to her palate. Maybe that was another reason why she felt so sick right now. Her nerves were on edge and there was only so much she could do to avoid biting her nails off. They ate, drank, and when all was over, the servants packed up what was left, and closed the doors behind them. Only the Lords of the North who had come and their offsprings remained in the Great Hall. The high table was occupied by the Lord of the keep, his heir, Kreacher, and herself only.

And here they were, waiting for the lords to finally remember why they were all gathered here.

“It doesn't look like it’s going to happen soon,” she commented absently.

...Huh. Interesting.

She grabbed the metal goblet in front of her and quietly sipped her wine. Maybe… the gold wouldn’t look bad either after all… hm… she had to think about this more.

“Indeed.” Lord Stark looked disappointed.

Fortunately -or unfortunately depending on how you look at it- Greatjon Umber chose this time to look up at them. He took a second to observe their silent figures, then stood from his bench, casting his large shadow over the people behind him. His big fist smashed the table in front of him as he boomed. Thea could not for the life of her understand how the small Lord Reed didn’t jump out of his bones in fright.

“Are you going to stop talking or not?! We have matters to discuss tonight!” He concluded his sentence with a loud laugh and Thea winced.

“As if he wasn’t talking too not a moment ago…” grumbled one of the men on the far tables.

The giant of a man turned to see who dared and was met with deafening silence. Smart guy.

"Thank you, Lord Umber." 

Lord Stark stood calmly, commanding the room’s attention. “My Lords, my Ladies, now that we are all gathered, the time has come for you to ask the question you surely have for Lady Amalthea.”

“Well then, Lord Stark,” started the Lady Mormont, after a moment of silence, “I think we can all agree we have heard stories about Lady Peverell even before you decided to inform us of her presence.” she paused, “though we still haven’t received any explanation on how this happened.”

Lord Stark looked at her.

“I was extremely surprised by the arrival of Lady Amalthea to my doorstep. A lady Peverell at my door was the most unexpected thing that could have happened. I was reluctant to speak with the lady at first. False claims on this name, while not common, happened before and I didn’t want to have to deal with another one.” as he talked, Lord Stark’s gaze found hers occasionally.

It was interesting to hear his point of view of the whole story after everything.

“As it happened, Lady Amalthea and her advisor Lord Kadeem entered my solar and took upon themselves to prove to me the legitimacy of her claim. And she did.”

“And how did the lady achieve such a thing?” spoke lord Bolton, for the first time.

How weird was that? His voice was exactly as Thea pictured it: slurred and as cold as his strange, icy eyes. He sounded like speaking was his greatest trial.

“Those words are not for my mouth My lords.”

Lord Stark then turned to Thea, gesturing with a slow hand for her to stand up. 

Oh… alright then. Her turn. Okay. She debated for a second whether to get up or not. It wasn’t really necessary but maybe it was preferable? They were all watching her, like eagles eyeing a mouse right before the kill. But I am no mouse. I am a predator. They are the ones hunted. I am death, made flesh and they can’t scare me off. 

Still, more out of the desire to make a statement, she stood up.

“My Lords, my Ladies, I would like to begin by thanking you all for coming all this way and introducing me so thoughtfully to the customs and hospitality of the North. I do not think I have ever seen a man drink as much as Lord Umber without falling on his behind if I may be so bold.”

Praising. Always worked around a crowd of united people. Or so Dumbledore would think so judging from the numerous times he used that trick on them back at Hogwarts. Clever old goat.

As predicted, Lord Umber boomed his thundering laugh.

“BAH! That was nothing!” he claimed happily. “Wait for the next feast! I’m going to bankrupt that old Ned with my drinking!”

“I will be delighted to, my Lord.” laughed Thea.

Because of course, he could drink even more. How foolish of her. She might have heard a tiny “please don’t” on her right, but when she glanced at Lord Eddard, he was as serious and regal as ever. “I do understand you lot might be curious about me. I do hope I may be able to ease some of your questions with my story.” she paused, for dramatic effect. Because why not.

Once assured that every eye was focused on her, she carried on.

“As it happens, Lord Harlan Peverell had a twin brother…”

Without further ado, she told them everything. She didn’t give anyone the time to interrupt her. She related the same story Lord Stark and Maester Luwin already knew. The story of the brothers and the family, how Harlan met Torrhen Stark, how he carried on sending letters to Hamish, telling him everything. How later on, there was no one left besides her to inherit everything. She didn’t tell them about her parent’s death, or the attack on her house. Merely mentioned how she was the last heiress and remaining member of her family.

Once everything was said, she waited for her words to die out in the church-like silence of the room. Her throat ached from talking so much. She slowly picked the pitcher of wine and filled her goblet. She savored a few sips of the cool liquid, taking the opportunity to admire her handiwork. 

They more or less were reacting as she was expecting them to.  Disbelief. For the most part at least. It was funny how despite being new to this game of politics, unlike those seasoned men and women, she still could hide how she felt better than them. She supposed having to show bravery as the “Chosen one” all those years did train her better than expected to such exercise of control. She surprised herself. Maybe in this archaïc world, even the explosive Amalthea Potter was more composed than the sanguine Northmen.

Finally, she asked: “Any questions?”

It took a moment for her audience to regain composure.

“Where did you say you are from?” finally dared Lord Karstark, ripping out the heavy atmosphere of all those brains thinking at the same time.

He was watching her from under his bushy brows, his eyes reminding Thea of his daughters. He had thick hair, as grey as his proud beard, and spilled past his black wool-covered shoulders. Even sitting between his two sons, he cut a tall figure in the mass of people. Alys had told her how one of her brothers was ugly, but they couldn’t find either of them to be such a thing. They looked common.

"Essos, my lord." She repeated dutifully.

She hadn’t really been explicit in the details, there was no time for an hour-long story, but she did insist that the Peverells came from across the Narrow Sea.

“Essos.” repeated the Lord. 

He turned his face slightly to his son on his right, and Thea, who could read his lips from where she was, caught the word “foreigner” in his mouth. Which… duh. The third son -Torrhen or Eddard?- shrank back on his seat while Alys looked like she was fuming on her own place around the long table. 

“And in Essos, with your family… Did  you learn anything about our lands?”

She raised an eyebrow. Her grip on the metal of the cup tightened. Foreigner huh? Was it just her or was he trying for something?

“Do not trouble yourself, my Lord, I think I am well versed in the laws and customs of the Seven Kingdoms. I made a point to learn as much as I could on the subject. After all, knowledge is what makes the world move. I learned everything I had to learn with my family. Of course, as a noble lady, I had the privilege of tutors and books to help me in my quest. What I do not know, I won't be ashamed to ask for. I am sure this will be no trouble.” She spread a fake smile on her face, “That is, of course, if those were my Lord’s concerns."

A nod was her only answer. The man was then promptly struck down by his daughter much to her amusement. Still, there was something in his face and the “coming from Essos” line of questioning that concerned her. None else mentioned it after that, but Lord Karstark’s question stayed in the air for a while. Would she be discriminated against for that? Humans really were the worst race there were, weren’t they? No matter the world. Foreigners, bastards, muggleborns, half-bloods, it was all the same in the end. There was no escape from their cruelty.

“Anything else?” pressed Lord Stark. 

He was trying to change the subject and she was thankful for that.

“My Lady,” crooned another man, rising to his feet so everyone could see him, “Is there something that could confirm your claim? A document, physical proof? Something Lord Peverell might have signed? A letter to his so-called twin brother?” he paused, as if realizing how he sounded, “of course, you can imagine how hard it is for us to accept your words as it is.”

Of course, it should be for you, you annoying prick.

“I believe Lady Peverell’s words, Lord Ryswell.” claimed the man sitting next to Thea.

“Lord Stark-"

“I have my sword.” The witch interrupted calmly.

She didn’t care for pretty words the old man might want to split. Ryswell… Ryswell...Where had she heard that name?

…

Oh! Lord Domeric’s mother was a Ryswell! Was this man related to him? Well, he should be of course, logically. His grandfather maybe?  He looked old enough for that. There were three men around him. His sons?

"A sword? How does a sword prove anything?”

“Oh, you mean apart from the fact that it is the Peverell sword, named Soteira by my ancestor himself?” sassed Thea. “Surely you have heard of it, my Lord? You seem to be very knowledgeable regarding my House.”

Too much? Maybe. Did he deserve it? Maybe not. But Thea was sick of being here. Her headache was bad and having to talk for so long did not help. She only wished for her room and a healing potion.  The heat of the fire behind her was too hot, the weight of so many gazes started to make itself known. She could only stand so much suspicion in one night. They were on their right, of course, to treat her like that. But it was tiring. And her luck, who had led her until now, could only go so far apparently.

“Well then, will you let us have a look at it?”

“If that is my lord’s wish.” she accepted graciously.

She pushed her stool back, making sure the wooden feet made as much noise as possible against the stone floor, and got around the table. She then calmly unsheathed the sword, letting the gleaming light of silver shine under the candlelight. She laid it down, hit in one hand and the flat of the blade in the other.

“Here it is.”

She didn’t move from the platform, forcing Lord Ryswellt to wobble up the step until close enough to take the weapon out of her hands.

“You have my appreciation.” he nodded with flushed cheeks. 

His breath stunk of wine, beer, and cooked meat.  He took his time examining every millimeter of the sword from hilt to the pointy end of the blade, muttering something in his beard all the way. The atmosphere was even tenser if such a thing was possible, as others awaited his sentence. She did not fail to notice how the man’s fat arm trembled with the weight of her family heirloom. 

“Is there any way for this… craftsmanship to be a forgery? Did a skilled master check the blade? How can this confirm your claims?”

She would have lost her smile instantly, had she had it in place, to begin with. Her eyes sparkled, electric green -  poison green like the Death Curse- contrasting with her coal-black hair.

“My Lord, with all due respect I did not come here to be offended and called a liar.” she raged sternly. 

She looked down from her place, fingers crossed, at the blushing lord’s face. Him and all the others gaping like so many fishes.

“The sword is proof enough. It is identical to the drawings and painting Lords Stark has in his documentation. Like the tales of Lord Harlan Peverell-”

“Anyone-”

She interrupted him harshly, “I am no liar Lord Ryswell. Despite what you seem to be trying to imply. Are you also accusing Lord Eddard Stark to be a fool? He does trust me and believes in my words. He confirmed the sword was indeed real. His wise Maester also took the time to verify its authenticity. I do think my Lord had a better eye for these things as you so proudly keep a sword of your own attached to your belt. But maybe I am mistaken? And, if you take the time to look closely you might notice the metal. Not anyone can fake a Valyrian Steel blade. Do you believe me to be a goddess? A witch? Able to create out of thin air any object I might want? Or maybe my proof is not good enough for my good lord? You could still strike something with it. Me perhaps? It would solve the issue, wouldn’t it? Do go on. I challenge you.”

“I have never been so offended in my life!” sputtered the man, outrager.

“Oh, you did? my Lord?” she purred dangerously, as cold as ice. 

She was so fed up with this fool. Her head was killing her, and she’d be damned if she didn’t take that old man with her. 

“You tried to shame me in front of all those lords and ladies of the North after I begged Lord Stark to welcome you in his own house. You are offended, my Lord? I am a guest here! As much as you are! I am the newcomer you should try to impress, and yet I am insulted like a pagan. Humiliated and shamed for the truth I offer you!”

“I don’t-” his face flushed even more, the vein around his visage about to explode with the pressure “I do not-”

“Do go on, try the sword! Maybe then your worries over my word will be put at ease!” she then turned over to the rest of the assembly, “Why don’t you try it all my Lord? My Ladies?”

"I don't see what this could prove."

"Try, and you shall see, Lord Ryswell."

He did. For a second Thea thought he was going to take her word and actually hit her. He looked furious and embarrassed enough to stop thinking rationally. Not that he seemed able to do much of that in her opinion.  But before he could do anything, Soteira slipped from his hands like a bar of soap and landed at her feet in a loud crash.

The silence was instantaneous.

"What-?"

“Here, my lord. Try again.” The witch handed him the sword back.

The result didn’t change the second time. The confusion was delicious to witness. The whispers grew around them. Thea would have sworn she heard a muffed laughter somewhere in the room.

The old Lord Ryswell seemed very inclined into finding the closest hole to dig himself into. If only to escape the growing amusement of his peers around him.

Still, he tried a third time.

Soteira cut part of his cloak as it fell.

“Well then, who's next?” Thea invited eyebrow raised.

The old man looked furious: “By the gods! But what is wrong with the damn thing!?"

She smiled triumphantly.

“Soteira can only be wielded by a Peverell. Never heard of that particular little fact? How odd. It is a known fact in my family. In any other hand, the sword will feel different. Strange to the touch. Heavier. Impossible to use.” she opened her arms invitingly, “I insist my Lords. Do try it. There is nothing more convincing than first-hand experience in my opinion.”

Silence. Exchange of glances. Doubtful eyebrows.

A humiliated Lord Ryswell handed the blade to the next brave one who dared approach -one of Alys’s brothers, Torrhen? Eddard? Merlin, was it tiring not to be able to know which was which- When he tried, the result was the same. It fell to the ground like a rock. His hand was shaking so badly he didn’t seem able to lift it had it not fallen before he could. He went back to his seat pouting, under Alys’s laugh.

Lord Umber was next, his giant fist closing around the hilt who seemed to jump, as if surprised by his no doubt incredible strength, and dropped too, just like everyone else. He was even gifted by a deep slash on his hand much to his booming amusement. He brought his hand to his mouth and sat back down, in a toothy red grin.

They all tried one after the other. No one could do it. Domeric’s bastard brother rose by the end of the line and was promptly stopped by Roose who looked at him with narrowed eyes. Hm. So he can be here while Jon doesn’t. Sounded unfair in her opinion.

When they were all done she talked again. 

“Do I have to demonstrate too?” she questioned with a satisfied smile. “I may not be the best swordsman around but if it is your wish, my Lords, I will comply.”

She didn't give them time to respond, swinging the sword in front of her as elegantly as possible. Don't embarrass yourself, don't fail now, Potter... The sword was a blur in the light, the steel didn't make any noise, the crescent moon and silver glittered dangerously. She sheathed it again, peering at the lord's silence in front of her from under her lashes.

Dacey raised her eyebrows appreciatively. The other girls smiled in her direction. Even Lord Domeric smiled minimally at her, one corner of his mouth turned up higher than the other. He was quick to hide it but she did notice. 

No one talked as she slowly sat back down. Lord Stark nodded curtly. Robb kept not looking at her -what was his problem anyway? Seriously she was getting sick of those Northern Lords and their strange moods- and Kreacher’s eyes gleamed with pride. She might have seen tears and wanted to hug him.

She counted the seconds as no one talked. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two. Sixty, sixty-one…

Finally, the noise broke out. Shouts from side to side, words of what sounded like admiration, loud laughter from Lord Umber who rumbled loudly a joyous “ It is true!”. Words jumped around each other in the loud hall. It was barely possible to understand anything in the middle of this mess. Poor Lord Ryswell looked so embarrassed he seemed to wish more than anything to escape the disbelieving looks he was the subject of.

Surprisingly, he still found the courage to speak.

“Forgive an old man's suspicions, Lady Peverell, and any offense I may have caused you. I deeply regret my actions and words. I, in no way, wanted to humiliate you…"

“I understand my Lord. I wish to apologize too. I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly.”

People kept rumbling around them. She could hear some of them. She was glad, this at least had been resolved.

"Past waters."

"We thought House Peverell was finished."

"And Moat Cailin?"

"It's a miracle! Oh, how good the gods are!"

"Are you betrothed to someone, my Lady?" Lord Manderly’s voice cut through the conversations.

Wylla looked ready to bang her head on the table. She managed to send an apologetic look in Thea’s direction, who smiled at her friend's expression.

Here we go… just a few minutes ago they suspected me.

"I am afraid not, Lord Manderly."

“And are you interested in changing that in the near future?” he questioned.

Amalthea's answer was cold as ice, cold as winter. "No, my Lord, I am not."

Next to him, Lord Cerwyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, after all, he had been the first to try this. "But-"

“Forgive the interruption my Lord, but I do not think the details of my married life or lack thereof should be discussed here.  I am not, and will not be interested in any proposition as of yet. I am inclined toward making alliances but a wedding is not something I can afford to be distracted by right now. Claiming my birthright and ancestral seat back will be a lot of work. I can not afford to be distracted. I am sure you understand my Lords.”

And there was no way in heaven or hell for her to accept any alliance made with her wedding. Over her fucking cold dead body.

“My lady, are you aware of the weight of such a statement?” begged Lord Wyman with a smile hidden under his four chins. His little eyes went from her to Wylla with a strange glint.

“I am Lord Manderly.” Amalthea nodded solemnly. Her dark hair was flying around her face. “I want my decision to be clear for everyone in the room. I am young, and I do know the obligations that accompany my gender. But I am also my own person and I know my limits. I am the lady of my house and the lady of a Land that I have no intention of giving up. I do not have time for weddings. I will be more than happy to discuss potential alliances with any of you my lords. But none of them will include marriage. I am sorry if you find yourself disappointed by it. But I will not be moved.”

There was a silence, directly followed by her words. Thea was prepared for furious screams and attacks on her person. Especially as Lord Eddard seemed to cower next to her. 

What she received, however, was different.

Lady Mormont was the first to react. She straightened on her seat with a mischievous smile.

"Well said!" 

Dacey's smile was proud and Alysane's was dangerous, her crooked teeth looking sharp as she looked up at the face of shock and offense the men in the room wore.

“Can we, if it pleases my Lady, at least know why?” Lord Medger Cerwyn looked shy when he questioned.

Seriously? Didn’t she just share all her reasons with them already? No, you can’t know!

… God but she had to say it didn’t she?

"Apart from the fact that I don't want to, and that's my decision?" she raised a black eyebrow. "I have been betrothed before, Lord Cerwyn." There was a heaving sound from across the table where Robb was. Oh, so now I have some reaction from him… "It didn't end well as you might guess as he isn’t here beside me. My betrothed, unfortunately, tragically passed away, and I have no intention of getting betrothed again anytime soon. I hope this matter is closed.”

"I think all those present here can agree that it will stay that way." It was the answer the old man gave.

"Lady Mormont sure must have been teaching you, Lady Peverell." Lord Umber yelled, laughing, getting a smile from the two women mentioned as a few others joined in the laughter. “But someone asked about Moat Cailin, and that's a subject I think we should discuss here… What are you thinking of doing? It's a dump, forgive me the words, but it's broken rocks and destroyed stones."

“I am aware, my lord. I visited my lands. However, I am determined to see them rebuild. I, fortunately, can do this, financially speaking that is. And I put in a demand for hard workers who might want to help me with this project. This is another matter I would like to discuss with you my lords, my ladies. I would be more than happy to pay you the trouble and-”

She carried on in an exhausting tirade, backing her case like she could have done in a court against the whole Wizenmagot. 

The meeting lasted until far later than she would have liked. It only ended once sleep caused some to stagger in their seats. Thea couldn’t have been quick enough to escape the place.  Only sparing a few thanks to the other ladies and Domeric.

Amalthea spent the next days cooped up in Lord Stark’s solar -who lent into her graciously for those purposes. Though he did seem distracted and was always found close to Lord Bolton- in private meetings with the Lords. Those who wished to discuss possible alliances. Fortunately, none of them pulled back the subject of marriages.

"I do not have much to offer at the moment, Lord Flint. My situation is complicated with the state of my ancestral home as it is,” she explained calmly in one of those numerous meetings, which seemed to never end. “I can offer fabrics. Silk, satin, velvet. Jewelry. Gold and silver. A few more stones but that is the only thing I have to trade with you, my Lord. What would interest you?”

“Flint’s Finger needs a glasshouse, Lady Peverell, and glass is expensive and rare in Westeros. We only get it from Myr. But as my Lady knows, Myr is too far away for direct trade and only accepts gold as payment. My House is powerful but small, and that's where I need help.”

“Coin then? And what would you give me in exchange?”

“Flint’s Finger is poor in gold but rich in granite, marble, and basalt which could be essential to help your rebuild. That and I may be able to lend you some of my workers.”

Perfect.

"Lord Flint, I think we have a deal."

They both smiled.

Then it was time for another one.

"I've heard interesting stories about your House, Lord Reed." she confessed to the little man, "Wargings, greenseeing, magic… It's all so fascinating, I hope one day you can tell me more, as we'll be neighbors."

"Do you believe in ancient legends and children's tales, my Lady?"

The man was surprisingly hard to read.

“I like to think I do.” she smiled, “I find it so interesting. I love legends, of all kinds! But I confess the Children’s one is the most fascinating by far.” she thought of batting her eyelashes but surely that would be too much. And ridiculous. “But I do apologize, this isn’t the subject of our discussion today. Tell me, Lord Reed, have you ever thought about planting rice in your land? It is a very common plant in certain regions of Essos. I believe it was first brought from Yi Ti. It needs plenty of water to grow. Several types of wild rice would flourish perfectly in swampy waters. In addition to being an extremely rich and abundant food, it is also easy to store for long winters. I would warmly recommend you to look for it. Maybe a trade with Essos to gain the first siemens would profit your House, my Lord. I intend to do the same as soon as I can.”

This was one of the main points of her studies when she learned about Moat Cailin and its location.

The little man was cunning. “Your idea I suppose would be for us to become partners in the production and marketing of this… rice?”

“Precisely, my Lord.”

Again, this one ended with a firm handshake.

All the meetings were similar in the end. She gains things from some of them. Others didn’t want to even talk about any possible exchange. 

She still got plenty enough. Stones through the Umbers, wood through the Glovers and Karstarks, masons, and workers would be relieved off of some of the other houses to help in the rebuilding of her keep, (for a price of course) and when meeting with Lord Wyman Manderly there was mention of possibly building a ship, as the Moat was close to rivers. 

It was exhausting. But necessary, unfortunately. If she wished to have good relations with those men, she needed allegiances, and for that, both houses needed to gain something from it. At least, all this money was put to good use.

Come to think of it, she needed to do something about it. Part of her story was that most of her fortune was in the Iron Bank in Braavos. A lie of course. But one that could be easily revealed if someone tried to contact the Bank. Maybe she should do something about this part. An enchanted letter? Or maybe she could send Kreacher? Confuse them into recognizing her and House Peverell if questioned? She had to think about this thoroughly.

One night, something strange happened, in her dreams. The wind blew loudly around her, scattering her black hair around her in a tangle of curls and tendrils like tentacles, blinding her at times. She could barely see, the light was so bright it was hard to even open her eyes. It was with great effort that she noticed that the light came from a figure flying in front of her, bright and beautiful. A phoenix -Hedwig?- tall and proud in a deep purple field. It was tall and proud with its wings flapping so strongly it caused the wind to blur louder, knocking her to the ground even. It was circling her, hooting loudly its beautiful tail ending in twin snakes who circled her. Twin snakes of pure gold. The huge creature landed on top of her, but Thea never felt its weight. It looked at her with two strange emerald green eyes. Intense and mischievous. It was so close to her face they almost became one and let out a loud sound that made the air around them vibrate. 

She awoke in the darkness of the night. She took out her wand and cast a Lumos. She quickly fetched a paper and vigorously sketched from memory. 

"Are you trying to tell me something, girl?" She questioned the real Hedwig who stared at her sleepily from her perch. Hedwig chirped, almost berating her for waking her up, and hid her head under her wing, giving it no thought.

Later, as she tried to fall back asleep, Amalthea Potter remembered a detail about the creature of her dreams. The distinctive symbol of the Hallows inside the moons of Hecate. The very same symbol she had chosen for her banners. 

OoooOoooO

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone, how have you been? I hope you are okay, healthy and safe. I'm fine - I've been slightly sick the last few days but I've already recovered - and life has been good but busy. The most extraordinary thing happened! I, who never liked these things, took an interest in sewing. My mother bought a sewing machine to sew some hems on curtains and I started playing with it: when I noticed, I sewed a very poorly made cropped top and I'm enjoying learning a lot. What, can be bad news for you, because instead of writing I spend hours sewing lmao.

But let's get down to business, the chapter! I hope you enjoyed. My wonderful BETA once again did a great job of editing my word jumble. Thank her! The meeting finally took place, I don't know if it went as you expect but that's what I managed to do. I tried to get Amalthea to finally show a little of her fierce side not being intimidated by all those strangers, I hope you like it, it was fun writing for me!

If you are interested in joining my discord dedicated to this story, you are  welcome - you just need to let me know via PM or comments.

See you in the next chapter, bye! :D