The seas were calm and the sun was warming to the skin. Flint could hear the gulls up above as they left Nassau in their wake. The North was before them and a long voyage in between but they were headed to the place where he'd grown up. Where Clara had grown up and Arya, where Sansa and Jon and all the others. People, family, that were like dreams to him, dreams of another life he barely remembered. Yet where turmoil could have lingered, where uncertainty and fear could have prowled there was an odd serenity. The talk with Robyn last night had soothed him, given him safe harbor in the storm within. So he was able to smile, to enjoy the trip to the cold lands he had not seen in years. At least for now, he hadn't felt the cold Northern wind yet or heard a howl from The Wolfswood. Flint wasn't sure what he'd feel once he did, all he knew was at the moment, the two most important women in his life were with him.
He turned and smiled casually. Max and Robyn stood at the helm, looking out on the horizon, Clara with fervent excitement and Robyn with all the swagger that he'd fallen in love with. He could barely notice the trepidation in her eyes. He knew she was hesitant about taking him home, worried how he'd react once he was back in his old surroundings. In truth so was he but he took solace in her and hoped she would do the same. Clara caught eyes with him and smiled back, a happy and eager look on her face. He could only shake his head with the softest of laughs before turning back to look at the sea. The men worked to keep the Harbinger on her route as the waves parted for the infamous vessel. The sounds of men shouting as they pulled on rigging lines and kept the sails in the wind filled the air. The smell of the sea filled his nose and Flint breathed deep. He had grown to love the sea, almost as much as the captain who'd stolen his heart.
Now he was taking his new loves home, to where his heart used to find comfort. In the cold and the snow, in the godswood with the ancient weirdwoods with carved faces of blood red sap, to the grey keep of Winterfell that he thought long lost to the enemy. Flint had a sister in law to meet and a rescue to mount yet all the while his mind kept finding it's way back to the crypts beneath Winterfell. He wondered if they carved statues for his father and mother, he'd want to see them. The ones for his sisters and brothers would be harder, especially the little ones like Arya and the boys. Flint stroked his goatee and stowed his fears away for the moment, never realizing that his hand had been absent mindedly playing at the string of dire wolf teeth hanging off his neck.