Book Winterfell Novels & Stories

Wind rose with it, a low howl finding every seam in the stone, worrying at the frames until the castle itself seemed to groan in response—old timber complaining, mortar holding, Dawny breathing through its bones as winter pressed closer. Winter was returning with quiet insistence, as if it had never truly left. Belinda’s eyes followed. “It has been a rather bitter winter,” she remarked, her voice gone faintly absent—as if she were speaking about weather and nothing more. “Just like last time…” “Yes,” Julia said quietly. “Just like last time.” Belinda’s mind slipped, unbidden, to another bitter winter. Snow that wouldn’t stop. Castle walls turned white and silent. Another sickroom. Another d

“You can call me Gavril. Gavrill Hawthorne.” “Hawthorne? I thought Nolan's last name was Smith?” “He took his mom’s last name.” I nodded my head in realisation. I didn’t even know that. “My name is Winter. Winter Cooper.” He nodded. “You want some bread” he offered. I took the bread and bolted to my room to video-call my best friend, Sicily, to inform her about what had happened. My suitcase lay on my bed as I had begun to repack to go back home.