DISCLAIMER: I own nothing...

I AM SO SORRY!

But seriously, I am sorry. I've had a rough few months as I was in hospital with appendicitis and then peritonitis and my muse decided it wanted to play hide and seek. Not everything was bad, however; way back in November I went to see a production of Measure For Measure directed by Josie Rourke (director of Mary Queen of Scots) starring Hayley Atwell (Peggy Carter!) and Jack Lowden (Morrissey, England is Mine / Collins, Dunkirk / Lord Darnley, Mary Queen of Scots / and the love of my life - literally! *sigh*) and my birthday was fun but enough about me...

BecauseYourWorthIt: Thank you! It's nice to hear that you like it so much and that it's well written because I do put a lot of effort in and I totally agree that's Tormund doesn't get enough recognition. He's such a great character.

PsychoMutt: Although its taken some time, here's that update and I'm gld you like it xx

em3kitty: Thank you so much! Its always so nice to hear that someone appreciates and likes my work so don't worry about repeating yourself - in fact, I encourage it! I'm also glad you like Deandra's height. To be honest, it came as a plot device in retrospect as I wasn't sure who I wanted Deandra to end up with when I first came up with the idea. I'm not particularly tall but one of my best friends is and we were discussing how female charcters, not just in fanfiction but also in fully fledged novels, tend to be short and when they can be considered tall they are still often shorter than their male counterparts so she was Deandra's inspiration.

Cinderella56: Sorry about the wait!

forgets-a-lot: Never fear, I have not abandoned this story and I will not in the future. My muse decided to go on a walkabout but I'm back and I'm glad you like it and I agree that Tormund needs smlome more love and appreciation xx

Padfootette: Thank you and I'm sorry for the wait!

Emily01111: Sorry you had to wait but I hope you enjoy!

And thank you to everyone who favourited and followed - thos little notifications got me through life in all honesty xx

Also readers, I have a question; who do you think Azor Ahai will be? Personally I have no idea who the show will go with but I hope that it's Jaime. Let me know what you guys think about the upcoming season x

CHAPTER SEVEN

His cousin was late and Edric was very uncomfortable. He wasn't the most confident of people, this he knew, but he did not like feeling awkward in front of his family.

Allyria, his aunt, was unimpressed - if her narrowed gaze and pinched scowl was anything to go by. She had never liked Deandra, not that she was too much older than the girl herself, and Edric had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't all too fond of him either.

His mother was far from happy as well but she hid it far better. She had a polite and courteous smile on her face, something that was usually plastered on to cover her annoyance and was normally reserved for him. He knew that she loved him, she had said so enough times, yet his tendency to seek out a book rather than a sword often irritated her. The daughter of the late Lord Blackmont, she had wanted her son to be as fierce and heroic as her father and instead she had birthed someone who was "as shy as a blushing maiden" - her words, not his.

Edric had thought that to be a bit too harsh. He was a tad shy, he wouldn't deny that, but after the death of his own father he had risen to his titles and Starfall had even improved under his rule. Nobody commented on that, not once. Edric sometimes wished he wasn't born to a Lord, things would have been so much easier. When he was younger, he had dreamed of travelling to Oldtown and becoming a maester. He could remember his father laughing scornfully and loudly at that.

Sitting opposite him was Prince Doran and Edric became extra nervous whenever his eyes would roam too close. He was a nice person, at least he appeared to be, with sharp eyes that caught the slightest movement. The oldest Martell wasn't a fighter and that reassured Edric somewhat. It proved that you didn't have to wield a weapon to be a leader. "Knowledge is power" after all - and those were Edric's words.

Also seated the table were the Dayne's of High Hermitage and they made him more awkward than the Prince. Lord Aren and his wife seemed more suited to family name than Edric had ever felt. Tall, handsome and muscular, Aren was a renowned warrior and Edric's mother was taken with him more than she ought to be. She had even suggested rewarding the man with Dawn, the ancestral sword of their house. Edric had disagreed but that hadn't stopped her from praising Aren at every possible opportunity.

The other tables in the massive hall were all full with Lords and Ladies from all over Dorne; lesser members of House Martell and Dayne were scattered about as well as representatives from House Blackmont, his uncle at the head, House Uller, House Allyrion, House Manwoody and countless more. The one thing that they had in common was the uneasy quietness they all shared.

The musicians that had been payed to perform were equally as silent, awaiting the guest of honour to arrive, and people had already begun eating but no one called them out.

Expectant glances were thrown towards the entrance almost continuously and Edric admitted that a lot of them were from him. At first he had been afraid that his cousin's tardiness would upset the Prince but he didn't seem particularly bothered, happily sipping his wine and tasting his food. Now he was more worried about his aunt and mother.

His worry only increased when the doors finally opened. Everyone's eyes swivelled almost comically at the entering figure and all of those eyes widened. Deandra wasn't nine years old any more and the Lords were practically drooling. Edric winced as Allyria's narrowed gaze became an all out glare and he winced again at his mother's indignant expression at Aren's wandering stare. He then blinked as Aren's wife matched her husband's unabashed lust for his beautiful cousin.

Deandra was tall, perhaps the tallest woman he had met in his life so far, with pale skin complimented by her inky locks. She reminded him of a prettier, less snobbish Allyria in a way, her lips curled into a smile rather than a sneer. Her dress clung to her skin, purple silk moulding to her every orifice with golden embroidery drawing attention to her bountiful bust and silver sleeves running along her long arms. Whoever had made the gown was a talented seamstress and Edric was surprised by how nice the mix of gold, grey and purple was.

She joined their table with a low and practiced curtsy to Doran who bowed his head in acknowledgment before kissing her hand. Edric could see Aren leering at her bosom as her knees dipped and resisted the urge to scowl before waving away his cousin's attempts to greet him similarly. "We're family." He told her firmly, the most collected he had felt all night, even as Allyria's glare deepened.

Deandra smiled widely at him and he realised that her eyes weren't the navy colour that he shared with his living aunt but a rare and dark mauve. "I apologise for the delay." She said cheerily and Edric couldn't hear an ounce of sincerity in her words. Her accent was also different from what he remembered and he could make out a Northern lilt to her sentence.

"No you're not." Allyria snapped as the music started in the background. "You're mocking us."

Edric had hoped that she would keep her opinion she to herself for the evening, or at least hold on until Prince Doran was no longer in their presence. Evidently, he was sorely mistaken.

"Me?" Deandra gasped, her offence horribly exaggerated. "Mock my dear aunt? I would never."

She would and everyone at the table knew it. In any other situation, Edric would have grinned but he didn't dare, despite the shade of red taking over Allyria's face. "Enough." He intervened.

His aunt didn't listen. "You were never one of us, always hiding yourself away, and now you've been living with those Starks." Allyria hissed.

"Stop it." Edric said louder. She was embarrassing him in front of his Liege Lord. "Deandra is family," he repeated, "and there will be no insults at my table." He resisted the urge to recoil as all eyes focused on him and stood his ground a little unwillingly.

Allyria scoffed but didn't reply as silence descended once more. Doran took this as his cue to speak. "How is Winterfell treating you, my Lady?"

Deandra's smile was still in place and it had yet to falter. "It was rather cold at first but one can learn to adapt, although I am still fascinated with the snow. I've been treated well if that's what you're asking, my uncle is a good man and my aunt is a good woman. I couldn't ask for a better family."

"I've heard many stories about Lord Eddard and his kindness."

"The story I've often heard is how he murdered Arthur." It was Allyria again and Edric didn't have the chance to interject this time as Deandra beat him to the mark.

"I've also heard that story." If Allyria hissed her words then Deandra growled them. The image in his mind was of a wolf, a wild wolf judging by the rapid transition of her emotions. "But then I've also heard how Arthur was there when my father was murdered and didn't lift a finger."

"Talking about the past will not change it." Doran commented calmly, and Edric could see why he ruled Dorne. He had a tone full of authority, he oozed it, and while he was somewhat intimidating, he was approachable. "What's done cannot be undone, we can only move forward. Squabbling amongst yourselves is unwise and unnecessary. You are aunt and niece, you should care for one another."

Allyria muttered a quick apology that was barely heard by the majority of the table but she did not stop glowering. Edric's mother decided it was her turn to talk. "Have you been betrothed yet?" She asked politely but everyone could see her mind already plotting.

Edric caught Deandra's look of disgust at the mere thought of marriage and found himself agreeing with her. "Not yet, my Lady."

The Lady of Starfall hummed critically. "You're of age, are you not? And you have bled?"

"Yes, but I believe that my marriage is in the hands of my uncle and has been since I arrived in the North." Deandra retorted, hoping to subdue any notion of a union brewing. "And what of Allyria's betrothal? How is that going?"

"Its not." Allyria said tersely. "It has been revoked."

"Oh. Well, Beric Dondarrion could do better I suppose."

Was it his imagination or did Edric spot a smirk on Doran's lips in spite of his sage and wise advice? Either way, the conversation had taken a turn for the worst again and Aren chose this moment to jump in, thankfully before Allyria could reply to the insult. "Surely countless Northern Lords have asked for your hand?"

Deandra pursed her lips at him, entirely unimpressed. "I'm sure they have, but I'm not interested in marrying, I doubt I'l ever be."

"Marriage is important." Lady Dayne laughed, not taking her seriously or, at least, ignoring her opinion.

"It is." Doran agreed. "But only when it is for love. My sister, Elia, married the Crown Prince. He was kind and handsome but they did not love each other and she was not as happy as she could have been and then Rhaegar left her for another woman. I regret that she did such a thing when love could have been waiting for her. My younger brother, Oberyn, says much the same as you Lady Stark, I think you two would get along very well."

Deandra grinned, if the mention of her aunt unsettled her she didn't show it. "Perhaps one day I will meet him."

Doran easily returned her smile. "The Sunspear would suit you wonderfully, and who knows, maybe you could convince my brother that marriage isn't a terrible thing after all."

"And he may convince me." She purred.

Allyria's cutlery screeched and whimpered as she dug the silver deep into her delicate plate. It had been Allyria's dream to marry a Prince and so far she had only managed to avert Doran's attention to her niece. "I doubt you'd make a good Princess." She said as nonchalantly as she could. "You never did like people."

"I still don't, especially entitled ones." The little dig, once again, caused Allyria to grit her teeth but the conversation shifted, once again. "Tell me, cousin," Edric started as the attention poured onto him, "do you still read?"

Edric smiled anxiously. "Yes, my Lady."

"Call me Deandra." Said woman beamed proudly. "Did you recieve the book I sent you? It must have been five years since then."

"A History of Aegon the Conqueror and His Conquest of Westeros." Edric recieted instantly. "It's my favourite." He admitted, feeling slightly bashful. "I must have read it about a thousand times."

"As have I." Deandra chuckled. "It was my favourite too. I spent a bit too much time I need the library while I was here, it wasn't until I reached Winterfell that my head truly left a book."

"I'm told I spend too much time there as well." Deandra was the first member of his family whom Edric felt at all akin too and he couldn't help but grin. "I've updated it, quite recently. I could show you." He offered eagerly before hesitating at his enthusiasm. Such a thing wasn't proper. "If you would like me too, that is."

Deandra's eyes were soft and glowing like stars. "I would love to."

Edric smiled, the first genuine smile that elected to adorn his lips in quite a while and he was delighted to see the same honest beam on his cousin's simply charming face.