The midday sun barely warmed Winterfell's courtyards. Snow still fell in whispering flakes, covering muddy bootprints and smoothing the edges of the stone walls. The Bolton guests lingered longer than they should have, and Lord Rickon's couriers had yet to return with word from White Harbor. The keep grew restless.
Cregan sat in the rookery tower, his hands stained with ink. He wasn't copying letters or training birds—he was sketching. Runes. Visions. That chained boy in the frost. The wolf with the sword. His mind drifted back to the words: The pact must hold.
A knock at the door.
It was Maester Arlan.
"Lord Rickon asks your presence," the old man said, peering over his spectacles. "The feast begins soon, and the southern guests are expecting a full table."
Cregan followed him in silence. The hall was already alive with firelight and meat smoke. Lady Lyarra Bolton smiled too easily, her silver-blonde braids glinting in the firelight. The younger Bolton—Ser Domeric—watched the Stark bannermen with wary calculation.
When Cregan entered, the woman's gaze locked on him.
"You are quiet for one so often seen near the godswood," she said casually, sipping her wine.
"The trees don't talk back," Cregan replied.
She laughed. It was hollow.
[Simulation Ready]
Choose a Simulation:
Observe Lady Bolton's behavior for tells of her true origin.
Use emotional resonance to detect intent.
Trigger a passive memory recall from past visions.
He chose the second.
[Simulation Running...]
You focus on her voice. Her cadence. The slight catch in her breath when Rickon mentions the crypts. You feel it again—like pressing a hand against a drum. Not sound. Not speech. Intent.
Her smile doesn't reach her thoughts.
She's lying.
She isn't a Bolton. And she isn't here for trade or friendship. She's searching for something—the sword. She believes it's in the crypts. But more than that, she believes someone has already touched it.
She's watching you.
[Simulation Complete]
Knowledge Gained:
Lady Lyarra may be of Valyrian descent, possibly connected to a lesser Targaryen branch.
She is searching for an artifact tied to the Stark bloodline.
She suspects Cregan has been near it.
Trait Gained: Surface Empathy – You can now detect intent and emotional tone more easily, especially when simulation-trained.
Accept outcome? "Accept."
The heat of the feast seemed to vanish. Cregan felt her gaze like ice on the back of his neck. He didn't eat. He didn't speak.
That night, the heart tree bled again in his dreams.
And the chained boy whispered, louder now: "She would wear the wolf's skin, but her blood burns. She cannot take it. Only you."