BAD OMENS

chapter two.

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Joselyn watched the cloudy northern sky with trepidation. It was all she had done after waking from her fretful sleep. Forget changing out of her small clothes and into a dress, or stretching to relieve the stiffness of her bones. She could only peer out of her window and up at the darkening sky, the thick, oppressive clouds slowly swallowing the sun. It didn't help that she had heard Old Nan muttering to herself about bad omens and cloud patterns as she passed her room.

Bad omens, indeed.

When she eventually turned away from her window and dressed, she did her best to banish those thoughts from her mind. She thought to tell Brandon about her concerns, but decided not to, especially not after what he said the last time she spoke to him of her dreams: "you're imagining things, little sister, no monster lurks beyond the Wall."

But what if she was just imagining things? She and her siblings had agreed long ago that Old Nan wasn't all there in the head, and her father told her she had a tendency to lose herself up in the clouds as a child. Maybe that was it, maybe she was simply lost in the clouds. It was a busy time, after all.

Satisfied with her conclusion, Joselyn ignored the small voice in the back of her head, and carried on with her day. They would be leaving for Harrenhal in less than a sennight, and she needed to pack.

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It was the morning of their departure.

The keep had been in a state of constant disharmony for weeks, everyone from her family to the help all bustling around, trying to get everything ready by the time the household would be leaving for Harrenhal.

Joselyn, though try as she might, found herself equally as fretful as the people around her, trying to get Lyanna away from her sword and Brandon from his drink and Benjen from her skirts, all the while making sure everything was perfect. They would be presenting themselves in front of half the kingdom's most influential lords and ladies when they arrived, and they couldn't do it whilst looking like a bunch of disorderly, bedraggled children.

( "Brandon, you do know you can't go to harrenhal looking like a drunken mess, right?"

"Lyanna, by the Gods, put that sword down before you hurt someone!"

"Benjen, please, I swear that we can go horse riding after I finish organising the list of people attending." )

Joselyn swore, if she knew her siblings didn't try to live up to their name as much as they did, she would think they trying to drive her into an early grave.

Currently, she was making some last minute additions to her wardrobe for the tourney. Realistically, she knew she would have almost nothing appropriate for where they were going, all her gowns fitted for the hardy northern climate, which was why her father commissioned for entirely new dress-wear for his children. Joselyn's new dresses were very airy, but still conservative ( as was the northern way ), woven from imported Myrish silks and lace. She had fawned over them when the seamstress had finished. They were beautiful, and completely different from what she was used to wearing.

But where Joselyn had enthused, Lyanna had quarrelled. Her reaction, one of great disobedience and childishness, had been expected. Her sister had avowed to never wear any of the dresses made for her, not even if she were to "melt." Her brothers had found the act to be quite entertaining, and laughed about it for the entire day. She had not been so amused, nor had their father.

He had chastised Lyanna for her behaviour, and ordered her maids to begin packing her things. He left soon after, a tearful Lyanna and a softening Joselyn watching him go.

When the door shut, her sister's tears strung free, hot and silent, streaking across her face.

"Why does he do that?" Asked Lyanna, her voice meek.

Joselyn made to comfort her, but decided against it. A hug would not so easily soothe this hurt. No matter how much she wished it would.

So instead, she said, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, why does he yell? He knows... he knows none of us like it much, Benjen the most. And you, too, Josie"—that surprised her—"oh, don't look at me like that. I saw the way you were shaking when you went against Father after Benjen ran off."

"I don't know what you mean."

Lyanna smirked, a bitter little thing that made something nasty inside Lyanna lurch. She looked so different from the little girl in her place only moments ago. "Yes, just like you don't wish Ned were here instead of us?"

"What?"

"Don't deny it, sister, he was always your favourite. You must hate that he's been away in the Eyrie for so long, leaving you stuck with all of us."

"I-I...when did I say that?"

"You didn't need to."

She stopped, and Joselyn was grateful for it. She didn't know where that had come from, whether it was a product of her sister's misery or if it had been bottled up for so long, and finally, it had burst free from its cage.

"I'm going to go make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. Sleep well, little sister."