Winter In My Heart | ROBB STARK.

Prologue

SONG: Winter in My Heart by Vast

Cillian

Cillian Bua never thought that of all the endless possibilities for death to finally get its claws onto him, it would be an illness in the end that would catch him.

He was a strong man, a warrior through and through. Tall and bulky, as most Northern Lords were. He deeply resented the fact he wouldn't die on the battlefield, but instead in his bed - trembling with pain. From an illness that served to be the only aggressor he could never take down or plan a clever battle strategy against.

His days were numbered, and Fianna had begged for him to stay with her to live out his last days together. But this visit was absolutely necessary. He felt a profound twinge of regret visualising his only daughter's expression when he told her she wouldn't be joining him on his visit. Even resorting to using a line he told her countless times in restless periods of her childhood.

"Baelfort would fall apart without it's strongest warrior."

It dawned on Cillian that he should have brought her. Tiernan could have looked after their lands, he was a trusted nephew after all; the son of his sister. He didn't bear the Bua name, but he lived at Baelfort none the less.

Cillian's sister had been foolish enough to marry a lowborn man out of feelings of the heart, instead of a familial agreement. He had no ancestral lands to speak of, therefore the entire family resided at Baelfort. He was thankful for it in the end however, he wasn't sure how he would have been able to raise Fianna without their assistance.

Cillian had resorted to travelling in his carriage on the last few legs of the journey to Winterfell, something he was deeply embarrassed about. But the cool Northern air had been far too harsh on his ill chest, his muscles too painful to hold onto a horse for hours on end.

He braced himself as the door to his carriage opened. Finally, they were at their destination, after what was surely the most miserable journey of his life. The red-haired man bundled his furs tighter against him, sniffing quickly and hoped the signs of his illness weren't as obvious as they felt.

He was greeted by the sight of the Stark family, all aligned by order of age and awaiting his approach with patiently smiles. Cillian forced the corners of his lips up out of politeness as he made eye contact with his liege lord.

Lord Eddard Stark had been his comrade and friend since Robert's Rebellion. The two were mere boys at the time, completely naked to the harsh realities of war and holding no love for each other. But as they fought side by side, a real friendship developed that stayed true to this day.

"My Lord," Cillian greeted with a bow of his head, to which Eddard responded to with a shake of his own head, a laugh and a clap on the back.

"Cillian Bua being formal to his liege lord? I never thought I'd see the day," Ned teased, his eyebrows furrowed when Cillian could only smile grimly in response. The Baelfort native was clenching his teeth to clamp down the waves of pain wracking his body.

"Cat, you look well, my lady," He said to Ned's wife as she stood tall by his side, taking her hand gently and hoping she didn't notice the slight tremble in his own.

After introductions, Ned eventually led Cillian to his solar, where he eyed his friend carefully. It was obvious the man had lost much of his muscle mass, his face was drawn in and his eyes bulged out. He looked a shadow of the man he used to be.

"As much as I enjoy the company, I have to ask, why have you come to Winterfell?" Ned began, getting straight to it. "It's not often I see your face, I haven't even seen that daughter of yours since she was about ten. Although I've heard enough stories I feel like I know her well."