The square exploded into frightened whispers beneath the falling snow.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cNo servant?\u201d
\n\u201cThat crest belongs to the royal bloodline\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
The guards near the pillory hesitated nervously, gripping their spears tighter as icy wind howled between the stone buildings.<\/p>\n
But the old man never lowered the golden crest.<\/p>\n
His weathered hand trembled slightly beneath the snow.<\/p>\n
Because he recognized it.<\/p>\n
Not from stories\u2014<\/p>\n
from war.<\/p>\n
The wolf suddenly growled deeper beside the girl, thick silver fur rising along its back as armored footsteps echoed across the frozen courtyard.<\/p>\n
From the castle gates\u2014<\/p>\n
three black-armored knights emerged into the square.<\/p>\n
Their crimson cloaks snapped violently in the wind.<\/p>\n
At their center walked Lord Varric.<\/p>\n
Cold eyes.
\nScar across his jaw.
\nHand resting on the hilt of his sword.<\/p>\n
The crowd instantly backed away.<\/p>\n
Even the guards looked afraid.<\/p>\n
Lord Varric stopped beside the pillory and stared directly at the old man.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou talk too much for a stable keeper,\u201d he said calmly.<\/p>\n
The old man slowly closed his fingers around the crest.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you bury too many truths for a lord.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tension froze the square solid.<\/p>\n
Snow drifted silently between them.<\/p>\n
Then Lord Varric\u2019s eyes shifted toward the frightened girl locked in the stocks.<\/p>\n
For the first time\u2014<\/p>\n
fear touched his expression.<\/p>\n
Small.<\/p>\n
But real.<\/p>\n
The girl noticed it immediately.<\/p>\n
And so did the wolf.<\/p>\n
The massive animal stepped directly in front of her, golden eyes fixed on the lord with a low dangerous growl.<\/p>\n
Lord Varric\u2019s voice darkened.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat child died twelve years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
The old man lifted the crest higher for the entire town to see.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he answered quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe survived.\u201d<\/p>\n
A wave of shock spread through the villagers.<\/p>\n
Women covered their mouths.
\nMen stepped backward in disbelief.<\/p>\n
Because engraved into the golden emblem beneath the snow\u2014<\/p>\n
was the ancient crown of House Winterfall.<\/p>\n
The lost royal family slaughtered during the castle fire years earlier.<\/p>\n
The girl\u2019s breathing became shaky.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026I don\u2019t remember any of it,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n
The old man looked at her with grief in his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were never supposed to.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then suddenly\u2014<\/p>\n
the wolf barked violently toward the castle walls.<\/p>\n
Everyone turned.<\/p>\n
High above the square, shadowed figures appeared along the battlements.<\/p>\n
Archers.<\/p>\n
Dozens of them.<\/p>\n
Lord Varric stepped backward slowly.<\/p>\n
His hand finally gripping his sword.<\/p>\n
\u201cKill the wolf,\u201d he ordered coldly.<\/p>\n
The giant grey beast bared its teeth instantly.<\/p>\n
But before the soldiers could move\u2014<\/p>\n
the old man shouted with terrifying force:<\/p>\n
\u201cTouch the heir\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
Then\u2014<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026and this kingdom burns with her.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The square exploded into frightened whispers beneath the falling snow. \u201cWhat did he say?\u201d \u201cNo servant?\u201d \u201cThat crest belongs to the royal bloodline\u2026\u201d The guards near the pillory hesitated nervously, gripping their spears tighter as icy wind howled between the stone buildings. But the old man never lowered the golden crest. His weathered hand trembled […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":3641,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3640","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-trending-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3640","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3640"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3640\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3641"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3640"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3640"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3640"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}