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MYRIAH
The sound of the door snapping shut still echoed in Myriah's ears the day after. She didn't know whether she had slept seven or seventeen hours when she awoke in the narrow bed. Pulling her plaid, blanket, and furs up to her nose, she thought of yesterday and how she had upset Jon with her last words. She only meant to speak the truth, Robb and she did not love each other until months after their wedding. Back then, Myriah was still railing against her fate and Robb was all caught up in his war. Only slowly she became aware of how much the Starks and the frozen piece of land they lived on meant to her. With that, she could take the place at Robb's side and eventually become a Stark too.
Before, Myriah was a stupid little girl, who dreamed of running away together with Jon, to get back at Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. With Jon, it had all been all childish folly and maiden blushes. Yet, she had also dreamed of being free from duties and courtesies and marrying Jon could have made that possible. Only that she preferred to live in splendor and Jon apparently preferred to live in celibate.
She got out of the bed and dressed in her breeches and arming doublet, which she had purchased in White Harbor together with her plaid and cloak. For the first time in her life, Myriah wore men's clothing and she had to admit these were more comfortable than her old dresses with the tight fit around her waist and chest.
After she had washed her face and braided her hair, Myriah made her way to the common room, where she hoped to find something edible. She crossed the yard searching for a familiar face. Brothers in black trained with plain steel swords while soldiers of Stannis Baratheon built a stake. At the sight of that, she hurried even faster.
Just like the day before, a couple of men worked near the hearth in the common room preparing a meal. They all gave her dull looks as Myriah entered.
"I was wondering if you might have some leftovers for me." She spoke.
One man grunted and prepared a plate for her, which he placed in front of her on a table. Some bread, hard cheese, and ham he had given her such as a very small amount of cold porridge. He only grunted again when she thanked him.
"Don't mind 'em. They're all miserable, this lot." Another one said, whose hands were missing several fingers.
"Who can blame them?" Myriah answered him.
He let out a dry laugh. "'Tis true."
"The stake outside. What are they building it for?" She asked, glad to have found someone who talked to her.
"For the wilding king. Snow's gotta convince him to bow to the other king or he burns."
Myriah swallowed hard, not just at the mention of Jon's name. Getting burned alive was the worst death she could imagine. She wouldn't wish such death her worst enemy.
