Book One: Chapter 10

Spring finally seems to creep its way into the castle and with it comes the celebrations of the first blossom. The skies are lighter, the days slowly longer, and the sun burns away through the clouds enough to make Sakura feel refreshed and clean in the thawing landscape. Though spring is upon them, some snows still linger to the north, leaving the mountains and forests white like an old crone’s hair. After a week with no snow, and a raven from the Citadel pronouncing that spring is finally coming, Measter Yunho announces the festival of the First Blossom, and Sakura hears the people cheering from within her solar.

Stepping to the window, she peers out and from her place in her tower she sees the smallfolk hurrying from the castle and into the streets of Winter Town to begin their preparations. When they sup together that evening, she asks Eunbi about the commotion and the queen gives her a smile so wide and pure she thinks she is seeing the stars when they were first born.

“We celebrate the coming of spring here with a festival,” She explains, waving away the cupbearer to fill Sakura’s goblet herself. “The First Blossom, where the town celebrates for two days and two nights.”

“We end up with a feast here,” Yujin tells her, through a mouthful of food, and grins guiltily when Eunbi cuts him a stern glance. He swallows and then continues, just as eagerly, “Most of the lords of the north will come.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen, swinging to Eunbi in surprise and the queen nods.

“Yes, traditionally we welcome the lords of the north to eat at our hearth to celebrate the beginning of the spring. There will be musicians and dancing, I expect.”

“Of course there will be,” Yujin rolls his eyes at his sister, and Sakura covers her grin at Eunbi’s irritated expression with a sip of wine. “You must dance with me Sakura.”

“Lady Sakura can dance with whomever she pleases,” Eunbi tells him, firmly and Sakura gives the boy a dazzling smile.

“Of course I’ll dance with you Yujin.”

“There are markets in Winter Town,” Eunbi supplies, ignoring her brother’s triumphant look, “Vendors travel for miles, it is usually fairly spectacular.” She hesitates for a moment, busying herself by pouring some more wine, before she offers, “I would be glad to show you around, if you’d like.”

“Oh,” Her eyes widen, a smile slipping unbidden onto her lips even as she says. “That would be lovely but- I mean, do you not have to entertain the northern lords?”

“They are quite able to entertain themselves,” She waves her hand, and Sakura doesn’t miss the surprise that flits across Yujin’s face. “You are our guest too, and you’ve never seen the festival before.”

“Then yes,” Sakura meets the soft green eyes gazing out at her and nods, “I’d like that very much, thank you.”

---

Winter Town is transformed when Sakura awakes the morning of the festival. The town she had first thought of as dull and bleak appears bustling and joyous from her window, where she can see flags have been hung between the buildings in bright colours, and tapers burn against the walls. Even from her tower window she can hear the sounds of fiddles and drums, and the shouts and songs of the townsfolk, and  she can barely stay still long enough for her new handmaiden to dress her and force breakfast down . Hyewon has a spring to her step when she escorts her down the stairs, and when Sakura asks about it, Hyewon eyes the beam on her face and says.

“The spring festival is always my favourite, ever since I was a girl.”

She is escorted down to the courtyard, where the queen waits with a retinue of her own guards. Chaewon is surprisingly absent, though Sakura notices the Queensguard Lincoln at her side, and the queen nods along to something her harried Measter is saying to her. Sakura tries to ignore the squeeze of her heart when Eunbi’s face lights up into a smile upon seeing her. Faith trots at her feet, and Sakura spots a few of the other direwolves, the dark one sat at Eunbi’s side while two of the lighter ones nip and playfight.

Faith darts away to join her siblings in their play, as Sakura stops in front of the small group and dips a curtsey.

“Lady Sakura,” Eunbi greets her warmly, “I hope you’re well.”

“I am, thank you your majesty,” Sakura glances up at the blue sky and luxuriates in the feeling of the sun on her skin for a moment. “The day is so fair, it’s good to feel the sun.”

“Perfect for the festival,” Eunbi agrees, and at her side Measter Yunho clears his throat, eyeing Sakura with distaste.

“Your majesty, the Karhold lords will be expecting-”

Eunbi brushes him away impatiently, her expression pinching. “The Karstarks have seen the festival plenty of times, I will be pleased to receive them this evening.”

Measter Yunho opens his mouth to protest, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he gives a bow, “Your majesty,” His expression sours, “Lady Sakura.” And turns to stalk away across the courtyard again.

Sakura’s eyes follow him, crinkling with curiosity, and she turns to see the queen pressing down her annoyance to give her a soft smile. “I think your Measter doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t like many people,” Eunbi tells her, her smile widening with mirth hidden at its creases.

“I’m not keeping you from anything important, am I?” Sakura’s gaze flickers back to the retreating figure of the Maester.

“No, there’s nowhere else I need to be but here,” Eunbi assures her, and offers her arm. After a second of hesitation, Sakura winds her hand through it and the queen’s beaming smile is more than enough reward for her bravery.

Together, they make their way out of the courtyard, and Sakura’s spirits brighten at the sight of Winter Town awaiting them behind the raised portcullis. As she had suspected when leaning out of her window, the town has transformed from the usual dreariness and practicality that came from the stern northern ways, into a riot of colour and music. Flags of every colour stretch between the houses, the sigil of the Stark direwolf stitched upon them in silver thread which catches the light, intertwined with lengths of ribbon which bluster in the breeze. In the centre of the market place has been erected a maypole, flowers woven into its top and strips of brightly coloured cloth wrapped around its centre. Around the maypole are crowded more stalls than Sakura has ever seen in Winter Town, rickety, hastily constructed stands jostling for space with the stalls that look as if they have grown roots, so long have they been standing there. Brightly coloured blankets are scattered across the ground, with wares displayed upon them, and girls skip between the revellers with baskets of flowers for a bronze coin.

Though it is nothing compared to the grand scale of celebrations in Highgarden, there is something overwhelmingly warm and jovial about the festival. Guards laugh to each other, tanners and weavers share mead, farmers and woodsmen share food, and children and dogs dart about between it all, squealing and laughing and stealing food from the hands of adults. Sakura laughs as a little one spirals past her, catching himself in her skirts as he chases after his friends. He staggers back, disorientated for a moment and his eyes reel from her to the queen, before they widen at the sight of the silver circlet upon her head.

“The queen!” He shouts after his friends, and though they ignore him in favour of their game, others hear his shout and turn to look.

People shout out, hail her name with cries of “Queen in the North” and “Daughter of Wolves” and though Eunbi raises a hand to wave to them, she doesn’t linger to luxuriate in their praise.

They move together through the festival, though eyes are now upon them and children scamper at their sides. Some dart close to touch at the tails and backs of the direwolves, before running away to their awed companions, others trot at Eunbi’s side, until she touches their shoulder, or ruffles their hair long enough to satisfy them.

“The festival is celebrated when the first bloom appears upon the flowers in the Winterfell gardens,” Eunbi explains, stretching out a hand to indicate the revelries around them, “It is hoped that the festival will encourage the gods to bring us a fair and long summer.”

“It’s wonderful,” Sakura tells her, honestly, “To see the town so colourful and happy…” Her eyes wander to the flowers pinned to the top of the maypole, “I will admit that I missed seeing flowers.”

“I’m sure this place is very different to Highgarden,” Eunbi’s gaze is soft and curious, and Sakura feels strangely bare beneath it even as she nods.

“Very much so, at first I hated it here,” The words come too easily and for a moment her heart constricts, fearing that she has caused offence, but when she meets the queen’s gaze again it is still open and kind, curious.

“And now?”

“I am beginning to understand that the north has its own beauty, just as you said,” Her gaze lingers on the green eyes that stare down at that, and she thinks she sees a flush light Eunbi’s cheeks, even as the queen smiles.

“I am glad. Here,” She gestures to the shop they are passing, easing them to a stop to look up at it. “They do the best pastries in the north here, better even than my own kitchens- though,” Panic flickers across her face, “please don’t tell Leanne that I said that.”

Sakura laughs at the sight of her fear, thinking of the rounded kitchen mistress. Though she’s only met her a few times, the woman seems proud and no nonsense, happy to wield a heavy wooden rolling pin at those who crossed her. The shop before them is beaming with light, candles flickering within and bright sunshine spilling through the open door, out of which a stream of both waiting customers and heavenly smells emerges. A swinging sign above the door is painted with a loaf, and adorned with flowers and flags for the celebration.

“We should go in,” Sakura announces, and Eunbi follows her two steps, seemingly automatically, before balking.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Sakura looks over her shoulder at the royal and gives a smile that seems to only make the queen smile wider, “If it was your favourite I’m sure it’s wonderful. I’d like to sample it.”

“If it is what my lady wishes,” Eunbi gives in with little fight, stepping in to join the queue of people waiting. Sakura is not surprised however, that at the sight of her crown and the Queensguard accompanying them, the smallfolk immediately usher her to the front of their line, her protests falling on deaf ears. Sakura is bustled in behind her, her grip on the queen’s arm falling away in the small space, and she tries not to mourn the loss of the warm contact.

Behind the wide counter, a man stands with flour dusted down his front and across his cheeks, so that he looks like some strange, jolly spectre. The shop is small but glowing with warmth and light, with servants and assistants bustling around behind the baker to slide trays in and out of the burning stoves. At the sight of them, the baker’s eyes widen and he gives a bow, straightening up only when Eunbi says, looking strangely embarrassed.

“Come, Aemon, there’s no need for that.”

“I assure you there is, your majesty,” Despite his words, Aemon straightens up. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen you, I should have known that the first bloom would tempt you from the castle walls.”

“I only wish I could persuade you to come and cook for the castle,” Eunbi’s mouth twists with regret and the baker laughs, eyeing her even as he continues to shape the small pastry before him, pulling and twisting the dough.

“And replace Leanne? I would never dare.”

Eunbi hums her agreement, but seems to remember her courtesies, gesturing to Aemon, “Lady Sakura, this is Master Aemon.”

“Lady Sakura of House Tyrell, I assume?” The man eyes her, his gaze travelling up and down her fineries and Sakura’s chin tilts up just a little, until he bows his head respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you, is the queen showing you the festival?”

“She is,” Sakura gives a graceful smile, eyes flickering back to Eunbi, “She says yours are the finest treats in the north.”

Eunbi rolls her eyes, flushing a little under the gentle teasing, but Master Aemon lets out a bark of laughter.

“She would say that, the amount she used to steal in here when she was a girl.”

“Aemon,” Eunbi begins to protest, but Sakura’s gaze darts between the two.

“Is that so?”

“Aye, m’lady.” Master Aemon shakes his head, placing the pastry on a tray with its twins to be baked. “I guess you’ll be wanting your favourite, your majesty?”

Eunbi looks a little shamefaced, but after a moment she nods eagerly. The baker gestures and a serving girl brings a tray to his side, from which he plucks two biscuits and holds them out for the two women across the counter. They are gingerbread, Sakura realises with a start, but instead of being shaped into little men they instead take the shape of a direwolf, snarling teeth and all.

“Careful,” Aemon warns, as Eunbi takes one from his hand, “They’re hot.”

“You make them as direwolves?” Eunbi looks up curiously from where she was examining her treat, though Sakura catches her breaking a piece off to squirrel into , seemingly unable to control herself.

“Upon popular demand,” He gives her a meaningful glance and her eyes widen. It is constantly amazing to Sakura that this woman who seemed to conquer the world and become a legend in only a few years, is so unaware of her own myth and lore.

“Would you like one, m’lady?” Sakura is startled from her reverie by Aemon’s words, but before she can answer Eunbi says.

“Lady Sakura actually prefers lemon cakes.”

There is a moment of silence, as Sakura’s eyes dart to Eunbi in surprise. The queen seems to be equally shocked by her words, blinking back at her, falling open immediately to apologise, but Sakura nods.

“That’s right,” She turns back to Master Aemon, “I love lemon cakes, if you have them.”

“Of course,” He turns to bark something to his apprentice, and Sakura takes the moment to brush her fingers along Eunbi’s elbow, pulling the queen’s flustered gaze back to her.

“You can have my gingerbread,” She offers, quietly, “If you’d like.”

Eunbi continues to stare at her, her soul laid bare in her open, astonished gaze and the flush on her cheeks, but after a second her hand darts out and she collects up the spare treat so quickly that Sakura has to press her lips together to stifle a laugh.

---

“Did you come to Winter Town often as a child?” Sakura’s arm brushes against hers as they walk, and the slight contact makes Eunbi almost forget how to speak. The sun is warm above them, cutting through the cold breeze, and she feels flushed in her heavy furs and thick dress. That, she is sure, is the reason for her tied tongue and sudden struggle for words.

“When I could get away from my lessons,” She confesses, at last, and casts a smile in the girl’s direction. “It grew more difficult the older I became.”

“I can imagine,” Sakura lets out a laugh so soft that it sounds like silver bells. “It’s not easy having freedom as a child in our… positions. What did you do, when you came to Winter Town?”

Eunbi’s lips curve up into a tender smile at the memories, and her eyes wander the streets, remembering them as they were when she was a child. There has been little change, though the town has grown considerably, and she remembers these streets as if she were only small again. “When I was young I would beg treats from Aemon, and run about the streets with the other children. Sometimes I would chase cats, though,” Here she smiles ruefully, “I was never fast enough.”

Sakura laughs again, mirth sparkling in her eyes, “I can imagine not- and when you were older?”

“It was harder when I was more easily recognised, and the friction between the north and the south had grown by then, so my absence was more sorely missed.” She frowns, her memories souring at the thoughts of days spent indoors, pouring over lessons and maps and strategies. “But I managed sometimes, and mostly I would just ride out of Winter Town and into the forests. I could spend hours in there, alone with my thoughts.”

“That sounds lonely.” Sakura muses quietly and Eunbi gives a small shrug.

“I was used to being surrounded by people, the peace was nice.” Her gaze settles on the lady and turns curious, watching as she picks at the last of her lemon cake. “And you, my lady? How did you occupy yourself as a child in Highgarden?”

Sakura’s expression fades into a fond smile and she shakes her head, “Highgarden is isolated, your majesty, so there was no way to escape to another town. But I would spend hours in the orange orchards, drawing and playing with my ladies.” Her lips tweak up at one corner, mischievous, and Eunbi feels a flutter in her stomach at her next words. “I’m afraid to say that I was a terrible influence.”

“Really, my lady? I have only ever found you to follow rules very well.” The jest falls from her lips before she can stop them and Sakura laughs so loudly that several people turn to look at them as they pass, while a flock of crows takes flight from a nearby rooftop.

As they approach the Smoking Log, the noise of chattering and music becomes louder, as does the strong scent of mead and beer, with baking bread and cooking meat. They turn the corner, feet careful against the slippery road underfoot, to find that the Smoking Log has spilled over into the street. The doors hang open and the place is evidently crowded because people sit outside on upturned beer barrels, with fires burning around them to keep away the wind. Eunbi’s eyes glance over them, frowning when she recognises the dark haired girl who works as an apprentice at the Winterfell forge. The girl spots her at the same moment and her eyes widen, knocking the man beside her, who almost falls off his barrel at the sight of them. Word travels quickly and Eunbi hesitates when the tavern goers fall into bows at the sight of her.

The blacksmith’s girl approaches them uncertainly, eyes darting between the two of them, but it is Sakura who breaks the awkwardness by stepping forward and beaming at the girl.

Eunbi’s eyebrows almost rise into her hairline when Sakura greets the girl. “Yuri!”

“My lady,” Yuri nods her head, her eyes still flickering to Eunbi, “It’s good to see you. And you, your majesty.” She adds, hastily.

“Yuri,” Eunbi gives a small smile; the girl is obviously familiar with Sakura, but she isn’t sure how they could know each other. “How are you enjoying the festival?”

“Oh, very well, thank you your majesty.” Yuri’s eyes dart back to the tavern and a smirk crosses her lips, “I hope Gyuri has got enough mead in for us all.”

Eunbi’s smile widens at that, turning genuine. “As do I, it will be a long few days if she hasn’t.”

“Yuri is the person I was telling you about, your majesty.” Sakura tells