Maester Luwin's death cast a shadow over Winterfell.
The small, gray-haired old man had served diligently for decades, delivering every one of Lady Catelyn's children.
He had become a part of Winterfell.
Now, Winterfell had forever lost a venerable maester, lost the old man who read beneath the rookery, lost the teacher who told stories to the children and urged them to study.
"He was a good man."
"He was the most dedicated maester, upholding his vows and performing his duties faithfully throughout his life."
"Winterfell will remember his contributions. People will miss his kindness, wisdom, and character."
A monk chanted prayers for the old man lying in the coffin.
"May he rest in peace in heaven..."
Maester Luwin was gradually buried in the cold, dark earth.
Lord Eddard and his wife stood at the front, and all the Stark bannermen bowed their heads in silent mourning. Bran and Arya cried the most sorrowfully.
Sansa's eyes were red as she threw herself into the Prince's arms.
"May the Gods be merciful and bless the soul of Maester Luwin in paradise."
Joffrey comforted her, "They will."
Maester Luwin didn't have to die. It was a pity he woke up at such an inopportune time.
Fortunately, the cleanup was relatively clean. The Starks only knew that someone had murdered the old maester, and days of investigation yielded nothing.
The bloody storm that a secret letter was about to unleash was stifled. But only temporarily.
Joffrey couldn't help but feel a bit of a headache.
Lysa Tully, truly a madwoman, daring to trust Littlefinger.
Lysa's identity was too clever; she was both Catelyn's sister and the wife of Hand of the King Jon Arryn. If she only said that the Lannisters had murdered the Hand, it would be good enough if the Starks were merely suspicious.
For Joffrey, while he couldn't let the Lion and the Wolf get too close, he certainly couldn't let the Lion and the Wolf fight.
Fortunately, Lysa still had something to care about. As long as she understood that the power of the throne was enough to destroy her and her frail son, she would keep quiet.
The burial ceremony in the sept was over.
Joffrey thoughtfully took Sansa to the Godswood to soothe her mood.
The Godswood within the castle.
Ancient, thick oak trees often blocked the path, gray-green sentinel trees grew hard needles, and ironwood trees lived up to their name, entirely black with hard wood.
This Godswood was in keeping with the tone of The North.
Cold, stern, resilient.
They walked to the edge of the black pool in the center of the wood. The branches and leaves of an ancient weirwood tree intertwined and spread, covering the entire lake like a dome.
Joffrey walked closer.
For thousands of years, the fallen leaves and broken branches of the weirwood had created soft soil. With every step, he could feel the ground reluctantly clinging to the feet of the living.
The primeval forest had an ineffable quality, as if the Old Gods were gazing at people with thousands of unseen eyes.
Joffrey gazed at the deep, melancholic human face on the weirwood.
The pale bark made its sunken eyes even redder. Though it was only dried tree sap, it always reminded one of blood.
Was the Three-Eyed Crow watching here now?
Joffrey knew the crow's abilities. The weirwood was the crow's most powerful eye; ancient weirwoods held many memories, and the crow used them to observe the world.
Joffrey reached out and pressed his palm against the human face, and the Recollection Rune immediately presented countless images to him.
He also saw the past that the crow saw.
Sansa's mood had improved significantly. "Father says we're leaving for the south the day after tomorrow."
Joffrey turned and embraced Sansa.
"Yes, thanks to Lord Eddard, he didn't separate us."
Sansa pushed him away, blushing with annoyance. "What do you mean not separated? You're not coming with us, we might not see each other for months."
"Don't be angry, I have important business."
He cupped Sansa's face. "I have a surprise for you the day after tomorrow. Guess what it is."
"What surprise?"
Joffrey smiled mysteriously. "You'll know then."
Sansa kicked him in annoyance.
...
Winterfell became busy.
The Duke of Stark, who was about to head south to become Hand of the King, was taking nearly half the men with him.
His second son Bran, eldest daughter Sansa, and second daughter Arya would all accompany their father on the journey and reside in the Red Keep in King's Landing.
Winterfell's steward Vayon Poole, Sansa's best friend Jeyne Poole, captain of the guard Jory Cassel, master of horse Hullen, Septa Mordane, and other household retainers would also be accompanying them.
At this time, the sky had just begun to brighten.
Winterfell's East Gate was filled with people saying goodbye and seeing off the travelers.
Bran, excitedly riding a tall warhorse, wobbled from inside the city to the side of the gate.
He saw the Crown Prince by the roadside.
"Your Highness." Bran bowed slightly. The dream from that night wasn't the end; the Crown Prince had later given him a mysterious power to defend against monster attacks.
Bran felt only deep gratitude for this.
Joffrey waved his hand, "See you in King's Landing, travel safely."
Bran nodded as seriously as he could, then galloped towards the Kingsroad outside the gate. It felt so good!
Arya also rushed over at this moment, her target being Jon, who was beside Joffrey.
"Jon, I'll miss you."
Jon ruffled his little sister's hair, "I'll miss you too. Don't worry, we'll see each other again."
Joffrey took out a steel plate and handed it to Arya.
"For you. This is a treasure. With it, you and Jon can talk across the entire North."
Arya took it hesitantly.
Jon smiled and pulled out his own necklace. Hanging on the necklace was an identical steel plate.
He spoke into the steel plate, "Arya, it's real."
Arya heard both Jon's voice and the voice from the steel plate at the same time.
"Wow!"
She glanced at Joffrey, and the inexplicable feeling of resistance she had before instantly dissipated by more than half. "Thank you."
Joffrey smiled back, "Goodbye."
"Good nephew, look who's here." Tyrion truly hated his short legs.
Cersei hugged Joffrey reluctantly.
"Little Joff, what are you thinking? The Wall is so cold. Did Tyrion instigate you to go?"
"See, it's my fault again!" Tyrion grumbled softly to Jaime beside him.
Joffrey patted his mother's back, "It has nothing to do with Uncle. I myself wanted to see the Wall and express the royal family's concern for the Night's Watch."
"Mother, please rest assured, nothing will happen."
He winked at Tommen and Myrcella behind Cersei.
After spending these past few days together, his younger siblings' impression of him had improved significantly, and he finally received two smiles.
Cersei stepped onto the wheeled palace with worry.
Finally.
Sansa, dressed in a silver-white fur robe, walked over gracefully.
"Where's the surprise?"
Sansa was full of anticipation.
Joffrey took out a wooden tray, a vibrant red cloth covering his farewell gift.
"Lift it up and see."
Sansa pinched a corner of the red cloth and slowly lifted it.
"So beautiful."
Everyone's gaze was drawn over.
Crystal clear like frost and snow, ice blue like the deep sea, clusters of roses were gathered together, forming a magnificent and brilliant queen's crown.
Joffrey placed the rose crown on Sansa's head.
"These are Winter Roses grown in the Glass Gardens. They were born to belong to you."
"That spring, Rhaegar, regardless of everything, gave this laurel crown to Lyanna, the queen of his heart, the queen of love and beauty. My love at this moment is ten thousand times more fervent than his."
"That was the Tourney at Harrenhal."
Joffrey tightly held the Maiden's hand, "But we will definitely have the most perfect ending."
Sansa's face turned red with shyness.
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