Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, I own nothing, blah blah blah, GRMM or David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, blah blah blah, Alerie and all other OC's are mine.

Metamorphosis of the Norm

"To exist is to change, to change is to mature; to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly."

Henri Bergson

Six days. It had been six days since the Welcoming Feast, and since then Alerie Cassel had holed herself in her room refusing to leave. She claimed it was because she was sick, yet Robb held his suspicions while Jory knew the truth to her isolation. Feeling guilt ridden, the single father had tried several times a day to talk to his daughter, often bringing food and water, but she would continuously remain silent. The young woman always took the food and drink, but after she was sure he had left, she would clean the dishes, plates and silverware before she placed it back out into the hallway. The only people whom had managed to breach the threshold of her doorway were Rickon and Robb, the latter only being allowed in if he brought the now named Grey Wind with him.

The smallest Stark was allowed admission to see Alerie because of the soft spot she held for him, and on more than one occasion he just wanted her to read or tell him a story. That she could do; Rickon never asked as to why she would not leave her room or why she did not appear sick like she claimed she was. It was a refreshing change from Robb, whom was constantly badgering her to get out of room, clucking about like a mother hen while she played with Grey Wind. She was a teenage girl, no matter that she was on the elder side of that spectrum, she was entitled to be moody, especially after the news dealt to her.

Shortly after discovering that Jon was going to take the Black, from a Lannister no less, Alerie sought out her father. Though she normally would have gone to speak with Robb, tonight she wanted to see her father, whom she had not seen that much of the entire evening. It was in her upset ramblings of Jon leaving, that Jory decided to confess awkwardly to his daughter that Eddard Stark was to be the new Hand of the King, and Jory would be moving south with him to King's Landing. To say she was upset was an understatement; when her father delivered the news, Alerie felt as though someone had an icy grip on her heart and began to twist it about her chest. Her father was her world, and knowing that he was being taken away from her because King Robert just had to have Lord Stark as his Hand made her feel entirely resentful towards the fat drunkard. Not bothering to listen to her father, whom had been trying to calm her in the midst of a fit of tears, the sable haired girl pushed past him and locked herself in her room.

Six days in her room, and during that long time of reflection, tears, and quiet sobbing she had yet to feel better about both her father and Jon leaving their home. Leaving her. Anger and sadness felt heavy in the room, exuding an atmosphere that could leave the most joyful of people depressed and had lost track of time, choosing to lose herself in a book of old folk tales instead of preoccupying herself with thoughts of Jon dressed in the Black and her father dressed in loose robes for the southern weather. It was all too much and overwhelming to consider, and the young Cassel decided if she put her mind away from the situation she would try to feel better.

She tried. It did not work.

She was re-reading a page from her book for around the eleventh time when she heard a firm knock on her door. Brushing it off as her father, Alerie shook her head and went back to analyzing the worn letters of the book. Letting out a groan, the young woman gave up on trying to let the words on the page sink in, turning the page quickly before another firm rap was heard. She chose to ignore it once more, but before she could even get back to reading another knock made itself present.

She threw the book down in a huff. "Father, please, just go!" There was a beat of silence.

"Can we talk, 'Lerie? Please?"

The deep, quiet voice startled her, blue eyes widening in surprise. Jon. Of all people, she had not expected Jon Snow to come to speak with her. Absentmindedly, Alerie found herself slowly striding towards the large wood door and wrenching it open with purpose. Her ice eyes remained wide as she took in the form of her friend, dark curls and stubble already beginning to grow back in the wake of them being trimmed the week prior. His dark eyes were glancing down towards the ground, hands holding a plate of dinner and goblet of water. Clearing her throat, brown orbs jumped at attention, finally realizing that Alerie had opened the door.

"Uh – I brought you supper," he murmured softly and though he seemed a bundle of nerves his dark eyes never left hers.

A beat of silence.

"I didn't think you'd open the door, I was just going to leave."

The sable haired girl continued to stare at Jon, no words leaving her mouth, just lips in a tight neat line. The young man then began shifting from foot to foot unsure of himself, brown boots contrasting against dark tunic and trousers.

"What do you want, Jon?" At the soft utterances of the words, Eddard Stark's illegitimate son formed an audible gulp.

He licked his lips in contemplation before speaking slowly, as though she would strike out at him at any moment. "Can we – err – speak in private?" His mumbled question was answered with a heavy sigh and a widening of the doorway. Alerie retreated into her room, taking a seat on her bed severely, while Jon slowly trailed after her, placing the plate and goblet on a short wooden table before settling down on a large pillow. The two friends were quiet for a moment; Alerie fiddling with a loose thread upon her blue dress while Jon picked at his cuticles in thought.

"I'm sorry you had to find out about," the male flourished his hands, "the whole thing from the Lannister prat." At his apology, Alerie let out another sigh before shaking her head.

"I'm not angry about that Jon, there's no need to apologize for it." Really, the teen could hardly be held responsible for what came out of another's mouth.

With a frown, Jon threw her a questioning look. "Then what is it? You've been locked up in your room all week, and it's worrying everyone." His concern caused her to bite her lip in restraining a frustrated cry from bustling forth. She knew Jon, as silent as stone, he would not broach the subject if she refused to tell him, yet his worried stare and guilt-ridden hunch of his shoulders ate at her. Poor Jon, always of so little words was blaming himself and isolating himself, the reason she ultimately decided to voice what was 'eating' her.

"Everyone's leaving," she whispered but Jon had in fact heard her, his facial features softening.

"Not forever, 'Lerie."

"How do you know that?" The question came out much harsher than she meant it to, causing herself to wince at the tone. "You'll be up at that – that bloody Wall for who knows how long, training, and scouting, and – and protecting! You don't know when the Lord Commander would let you come and visit, and what if something happens to you! Wildlings are brutal, Jon! And then there's your father and my father traveling down south!" Her speech was still clear, yet Alerie's volume was increasing steadily and would no doubt be reverberating down the halls if her door were still open. "Who knows when the King will let them come back or even just visit. Sansa and Arya will be going with them, who knows what will happen down there. I heard it's filled with nothing but snakes and spiders in the Red Keep. What if they change? What if my father makes a new family and – and forgets about me!" Her azure eyes were glassy with unshed tears, lips parted and sucking in air for breath after her exclamations. Jon, whom had remained silent through the whole mini-tirade, now regarded her with a sad understanding as she sniffled.

Jon let out a sigh before slowly getting up from his spot and sitting next to her. "You know he wont forget you 'Lerie. Everyone in Winterfell knows that you're his entire world, and frankly I'm surprised he isn't bringing you with him."

Alerie had wondered that herself when he first broke the news, but Jory delicately explained that Lady Stark would need her help around the castle as well as with Bran and Rickon. He squirmed uncomfortably after he told her this, making her suspicious that he was holding something back from her, but since she was still in a hysterical state she found no reason to voice her thoughts.

After a few minutes of silence between the two, grief of the changes to come, she resigned herself to let out a tired yet accepting sigh, deciding that six days had been long enough to wallow, and it was time to resurface for air and act mature.

She blew a long black strand out of her face. "I suppose I should speak with him." Jon nodded his head, small smile upon him. "Tomorrow," she told he resolutely, her watery eyes now dry as the tears receded. The male was thrown off guard as he felt himself engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by the tiny female. Tentatively, Jon hugged her back, a soft sad smile worming its way onto his face.

"I take it you aren't angry with me then," he gasped, nerves laced in his smile. With pursed lips, Alerie's blue eyes stared into his brown ones, her arms falling to her sides as his had remained during the initiation friendly embrace.

"You know I'm not," she sighed as her eyes narrowed at him, "and I know why you're doing this, but I also know I can't stop you nor talk you out of this." Jon was all self-loathing of his bastard status, even in their childhood, which was greatly enhanced by Lady Stark's disapproval of him. No matter how much his father and siblings loved him, no matter how many times Alerie or others reinforced he was more than his name, the stubborn boy had none of it. And it would seem that the only way he felt he would of be of value would be if he took up the Black.

It was honorable. It was also suicide in her opinion. It was also something Alerie pondered and slowly began to understand during her days of solitude, no matter how many times she tried to think of ways to talk him out of it, his sullen face always came to mind. A sullen face that always seemed to brighten at his Uncle Benjen's form and stories of Beyond the Wall.

At her reluctant acceptance, Jon gave Alerie a happy grin. "I swear on the Gods, Jon, if you aren't careful up there you're going to wish you had to deal with a White Walker," warning clear in her tone and eyes. He gave her an awkward laugh before shifting silently; it would seem the Snow boy was clearly acquainted to the wiles and woes of an angry woman.

xxx

Alerie had woken up just as the sun was beginning to rise the following morning. Despite the fact that she had been isolated the whole week, it was last night, after she had vented to Jon that she was finally able to get a sound and restful sleep. A weight had lifted off of her shoulders, and though she had yet to speak with her father, she planned to do so this morning.

The normally active Dining Hall was still a flurry of activity as the Royal Party's handmaidens and servants further added to those of the Winterfell volume. She supposed she should have gotten used to it though, for it was like that during the Welcoming Feast, but time seemed intangible during the Cassel heir's confinement. Her previously disheveled locks were now neatly brushed and cascading down her shoulders, bouncing just the slightest as she walked with purpose. Her skin regained it ivory hue with a good nights sleep as opposed to the bleak ashen tone it held through out the week. As angry as she was with her father, she loved him too much to continue to hold a grudge before he left. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible while he was still home.

Alerie was simply walking about the hall; the large tables newly adorned with platters of eggs and bacon, soup dishes filled to the brim with steamed oats, plates filled with fruits, and towers of toast and sweetbreads. It was a mouthwatering scene, the fragrant mix of the foods mingling in the air and teasing her nose. Her blue eyes furrowed in confusion as some of the servants began clearing some plates and glasses away, as though a fairly large number of people had eaten already.

Curious.

Instead of turning around and retreating back to her room until it was announced the hall would sit down for breakfast, Alerie took her crocheted shawl and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, providing far more warmth than just her heavy navy blue dress as she headed outside to see whom had breakfast before everyone else.

The air was still frigid from the sun being set all night, yet it was nothing unfamiliar as she moved her head from side to side searching for her father or anyone else known to her. It was when she neared the stables did she notice a large fluster of activity.

Even more curious.

Hesitating to go forward, her actions were halted when she heard a very surprised and pleased Robb speak from behind. "You're out," he stated simply causing Alerie to spin around to face him. He gave her a bright smile, one she returned, yet it faded slightly as she took in his form. Riding tunic and trousers, armed with his bow and quiver, and hunting knife and sword strapped on. Robb painted the picture of a warrior yet Alerie knew better. He was going hunting. That was what the flurry of activity around the stables and the servants cleaning the hall had been about; there was to be a hunting party.

"Hunting?" She merely asked, noting Stark men along with the Kings' saddling up some horses. Alerie silently wondered if the King was even sober enough currently to hunt. The rumor mills had been swarming and though she had locked herself away in her room it was whispered that the King enjoyed some large goblets of wine in the morning.

Robb nodded his head. "The King wants to hunt some boar." This caused the raven-haired girl to snort before covering it up with her hands. The north was far to cold for boar, it was a well known fact. Except the King seemed ignorant of it.

"Errr," she bit her lip to stop any laughter, "I didn't realize boar wandered about the Wolfswood."

Her friend sent her an amused look before shaking his head, trying his hardest to suppress his own laughter. It wasn't working. "I'm sure we'll find something out there that catches his interest." There were wenches in the Wolfswood? Alerie bit down on her hand to cease the laughter that was slowly worming its way out of her.

The redhead clasped his hands together, grin prominent. "Well, someone seems to be in better spirits than she was previously." That was clearly true; the conversation she had with Jon lifted a heavy weight off of her shoulders and in the process improved her mood. She would have gone on to explain this to Robb, but judging from the knowing look on his face he was no doubt the one who nudged Jon into going to see her. Without thinking, Alerie flung her arms around Robb bringing him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. Robb was shocked with her gesture, cheeks burning bright red and heart thumping about wildly. Letting out a breathless laugh, the Stark heir returned the hug, squeezing her arms softly. Pulling back, shock blue eyes met with icy blue ones, auburn stubble lips opening to speak, but no words were said. In fear of looking like a fish, the Stark heir promptly closed them and establishing a safe distance between the two, his large hands rubbing the back of his mop of curls at the nape of his neck. Alerie was in a similar awkward stance after they parted; face, neck, and ears as red as a tomato and her bottom lip being gnawed thoughtfully between her teeth. Twiddling her thumbs she suddenly felt very foolish for going outside in the first place.

Wait...why had she come outside for again?

She slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning at being distracted by hormones. Robb threw her a questioning glance that boarded on confusion and worry for her sanity. "Robb, you wouldn't happen to know where my father is would you?"

The young man gave her a sympathetic smile before gesturing out to the Wolfswood. "He and a couple of other guards went to go check the trail we're taking for any intruders and free folk," he then looked out towards the stables. "We're going to meet them just at the entrance." Alerie frowned and cursed silently to herself as she kicked the dirt upon the ground.

"I needed to speak with him…" and apologize, she thought to herself as her eyes looked despondently towards the Wolfswood. Robb, noticing her distress placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her eyesight was drawn away from the forest and back onto the his own pair that held so much mystery in them at the way he was looking upon her.

"We'll be back before supper, of that I'm sure," he remarked and gave her shoulder a soft pat before dropping it from its place. A slight tingling burn was left in its place, causing Alerie to take in a sharp intake of air.

Where had that come from?

"I'll tell him that you wanted to speak with him earlier."

Thankful of his words, Alerie's smile brightened somewhat but she held back on hugging him, feeling self-conscious from the embrace she surprised him with before. Biting her lip in embarrassment and nerves, Alerie cleared her throat slightly before nodding her head at Robb, who wore a similar expression to her. Now a days the unknowing dance they were doing with one another had them thinking and acting along the same lines. Even his visits to her in her room had been filled with a heavy tension, that they were alone and in an enclosed space. It was like watching a small flame dancing near a pile of dry hay. Any moment it could catch; it just needed time and a push.

"I'll see you later?"

Robb simply gave her a small smile and nodded his head. Accepting the ungainly parting, Alerie began her retreat back to the castle where Lady Stark no doubt needed her. Perhaps she would pay the direwolves a visit later in the kennels with some scraps from the kitchen. Unbeknownst to her, the Stark heir whom was watching her retreat was feeling regret well in him for not bestowing her a kiss on the cheek as she had done so boldly one week prior. An action that replayed constantly in his mind when he was alone with his thoughts.

xxx

The afternoon had moved at a considerably sluggish pace before the disaster happened. After the hunting party left Alerie was left to her own devices for the unforeseen future. Not feeling necessarily hungry, the sable headed girl instead opted to wander the seemingly deserted grounds of Winterfell, stopping every now and then to admire the snow kissed hellebores and daphnes. The smell of juniper mingled with the wind, leaving Alerie in a pleased daze and wondering how she had gotten so lucky as to live here.

Robb and Jon were gone, along with a majority of the men in Winterfell, or those of 'preferred status,' made up the rather large hunting party. The only notable ones that had seemingly not accepted were both Tyrion and Jamie Lannister, something Alerie decidedly thought of as curious but decided to simply brush this off. Whispers had been going around that the King was not entirely fond of his wife's family, so the two blonde men not attending the hunt was really not all that bizarre.

Needless to say, Alerie was terribly bored while the men went out to hunt. Her aimless wandering had brought her back to the castle's great hall when it was way past the hours of breakfast and her stomach was growling something fierce. The hall was pristine by the time she arrived allowing, her to come to the conclusion that she would just have to wait until around lunch to get anything in her belly. That's what she got for being light of heart and not bothering to pay attention to her surroundings or the position of the sun in the sky, a missed meal and cold hands.

It was around an hour or so that the young Cassel girl was alone before Bran Stark came bustling through the hall, twinkling in his brown eyes and a carefree smile resting upon his face.

"Alerie," he chirped, "Mother is looking for you!" Opening her mouth to ask where she was, Bran beat her to the punch, answering her silent inquiry as he ran off, not bothering to stop and look over his shoulder. "She's in Rickon's room. He's throwing a tantrum," he stated factually. Scrunching her face slightly in frustration, the young Stark laughed gleefully as he no doubt was making a mad dash to see his nameless direwolf.

Bran was not exaggerating the tantrum bit, as Alerie observed a wild Rickon red faced and squawking about loudly while he thrashed in Lady Stark's arms. The matriarch's tired face subtly brightened as the young woman entered the room, and soon a smile lifted at the corners of her mouth as she silently mouthed for the Lady of Winterfell that she could leave her with her youngest child.

And that was how Alerie spent the rest of her morning; trying to pacify an inconsolable and incoherent Rickon. It was not a battle she won, in fact, Alerie simply resigned to holding the child in a vice like grip as he pounded his fists onto her arms and kicked into her stomach until he fell asleep. Sometimes it was just best to let children work out their energy and anger and let them fall into a restful sleep to awake, calm, and refreshed. He looked so much like an angel as Alerie tucked him into his bed, snuggling into the quilts and pelts, a small smile working across his face.

It was around high noon when she left the napping Rickon and traveled down back to the Great Hall to enjoy a light lunch. It was a softly quiet affair as the Lannisters as well as the remaining Starks had already eaten and left the hall clear for the workers. This left Alerie to quietly chat with Merilee, the blonde silently whispering her observations of the Royal Family, how well mannered Myrcella and Tommen were and how abusive verbally Joffery was. The latter was hardly a shock to Alerie, but was pleasantly surprised about the behaviors of the younger golden haired Baratheons. She had expected that anything with the blood of a lion to be callous and demeaning towards "the help," yet it would appear that the Cassel heir held her own prejudices in her heart. And though this was unsettling, the young woman merely brushed her internal musings to the side for now. Instead she enjoyed her conversation with the blonde as they ate, topics ranging from the flower arrangements Merilee planned to help with for the Farwell Feast in a two weeks time to what they imagined King's Landing was like. Like Alerie, Merilee was staying behind, as her father would be taking over Jory's position while he was with Lord Stark down South.

Funny how things worked out.

Alerie enjoyed her lunch, and while the conversation had strayed to the royal family of blondes, they spent most of their time speaking about some books and pieces of poetry they had read. Mindless chatter about others could only last so long before the two girls' minds drifted towards the sheer romanticism of literature as many teen girls seemed to indulge themselves with. It was when the two finished their meals and cleaned after themselves, did they part their ways and continue on with their respective routines. The blonde's being to help prep the hall for dinner, the sable haired girl's was to find something to occupy her time. The stables seemed to call to her, as the growing direwolves no doubted need some sort of attention while locked away as the Lannisters' skulked the castle grounds.

She had not been there to terribly long; the young woman was alternating her attention between Shaggydog, Lady, and Arya's unnamed direwolf. Both Grey Wind and Ghost were permitted to go hunting with their masters, while Bran no doubt snuck his wolf out secretly. While the two sisters of the litter seemed to relish the attention, the dark haired male was anything but receptive towards Alerie, going even as far as growling at her. Her pale hand retracted immediately at the sound, pale blue orbs widening in alarm and let the young wolf enjoy his own space.

As stated earlier, she had not been in the stables terribly long when she heard a loud howl pierce through the air. It was eerie, the sound, and the baby curls on the back of her neck began to stand on end as the howl sounded once more, this time two faint howls echoing in the distance as well. It was when the three direwolves around her, ears flattened and howls filled with sorrow, did a feeling of dread really built up in Alerie. A churning within the pit of her stomach that had bile threatening to overcome its cocoon and unleash out of her mouth.

Something had happened, something horrible had happened, she just knew it. Animals always seemed to know the true intentions of individuals. When something evil lurked behind beautiful facades; it was something her father and her Pop Pop had always told her. Up until now she had always thought those words were of mere superstition meant to enthrall her as a child, but it was the current bone chilling howls of the Starks' living sigils that had made her realize that they were right, and that notion was absolutely terrifying.

Her body guided her; feet and legs dashing towards the closest set of howls, ears acting as her eyes as the windows of her soul took in her surroundings as a mere foggy daze. Time suspended itself as Alerie's body propelled itself forward, her mind in limbo as instinct melded into every pore and fiber of her being as she ran. The skirts of her dress kicking up in her self made wind as her booted feet tramped heavily along the slightly muddied earth. The sound of howling got louder and louder with each step she took until it ceased altogether, as did the distant howling.

The hazy surroundings slowly made their way into focus. A small sandy brown direwolf nipping at the heels of a man. A tall man with a hair that looked spun from gold had his back to her as he took calculated steps back toward the castle's nearest opening. It was the sight clutched in the man's forearms that chilled her to the bone; small booted legs dangling lifelessly while the head of Bran Stark bobbed to the rhythm of the lion's strides. Eyes closed, mouth agape, and skin an unnatural pallor, Alerie let out a guttural screech that caused a flock of crows to disperse from their perches and into the bleak gray sky.

A/N: I'm baaaaack! Well kinda at least. I updated, and I severely apologize if it's shitty. I've been wanting to update for a long time but I've been stuck in a rut of work and health issues. So I apologize. Hopefully my next update will be sooner rather than later, as my muses have been striking lately.

Let me thank EVERYONE who has favorited and followed this story, it's a staggering amount that I never imagined to accumulate. So I thank you all so very very much. Let me also thank all those who reviewed, because let's be honest, as an author on this site reviews hold a special place in my heart. So let me personally thank Soccer-Bitch, . , amrawo, Mr. Legalize, electrogirl88, Guest, nmdb (I nearly shit myself when you reviewed my story -faints-), Guest, Guest, TheMorningMist, and Mals86. I LOVE YOU ALL!

Up next: The aftermath of Bran's fall and the reason to Jory's suspicious behavior.

But question time is up again 1) What sort of flashbacks would you like to see is the future? 2) Would you like to see a tragedy or a happy ending? Until next time, SMOOCHES!