It had been a long, miserable journey northward, too long and cold for Viserra’s liking. It had been many days at sea and she stayed in the cabin during the whole journey. Outside stood a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, chosen by her mother to ensure she arrived in the north intact and obedient. Alysanne’s message had been clear.

Viserra tested those limits anyway.

Twice she tried bribing him to take her away by promising him her jewels. Once with a kiss to his hand. And finally, as a last resort, with herself, offered boldly beneath furs scented in rosewater.

He refused her each time with the same stony-faced honor that made her want to claw him.

By the time White Harbor’s pale towers came into view, she was ready to sneer at whatever crude fishing village the northerners dared call a city.

But what rose before her was… not that.

White stone walls gleamed beneath the winter sun. Grand arches and sweeping streets lined with clean cobblestones. Tall buildings carved with waves and other details. The harbor bustled with merchant cogs flying colors from Braavos, Pentos, even Lys. It was organized, thriving. almost elegant.

She refused to let her surprise show. This was against her will. She would hate it out of pure spite and pettiness. She even kicked the boots one of her guards as she got in the wheel house that took her from the docks to the keep. It probably hurt her more than him.

The wheelhouse halted at the foot of the great steps of the New Castle. Snowflakes clung to the long purple velvet of her cloak, and she lifted her chin high as she got out of the wheelhouse. Waiting at the steps was the young Manderly knight, along with half a dozen courtiers in fine silk and sea-green cloaks. The young man was the grandson of Lord Theomore Manderly, the man she was originally supposed to marry. She partly blamed herself for this marriage. It was she who at first brought up that Theomore had grandsons her age, and that is where her words got her.

Viserra did not smile.

She did not look at him.

Instead she extended her gloved hand, gaze deliberately sliding away in disgust, as if granting him the honor of greeting her was already a charity.