NOVEL NEXT Chapter 19: Chapter-19
The morning sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the snow-covered landscape of Winterfell in soft, golden light. Aryan and Joanna Stark stood poised before the large hearth in the Great Hall, the flickering green flames of the Floo Network casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. With a practiced step, they entered the swirling flames and vanished, reappearing moments later within the grandeur of Romanov Manor.
As Aryan stepped out of the fireplace, he brushed soot from his pristine robes, his sharp eyes immediately assessing the room. The warmth of the Romanov Manor enveloped him, a stark contrast to Winterfell's austere chill.
The room spoke of opulence and history, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings, and the polished wooden floors gleaming under the sunlight streaming through tall, arched windows.
Waiting to greet them was a family of three, their presence regal yet welcoming. Lord Artem Romanov stood tall, his brownish hair neatly combed and steel-grey eyes keen and observant. His fair complexion bore a striking resemblance to his father, Sebastian, who stood slightly to the side, his posture radiating quiet pride.
Beside Artem was Lady Indira Sharma, her beauty striking and elegant, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her brown eyes warm yet discerning. Between them, gripping his father's hand, was a small boy of three. Ivan Romanov was a charming blend of his parents, his steel-grey eyes hinting at his Romanov lineage and his rich complexion and curious expression reflecting his mother's heritage.
Knowing the unspoken expectations of his station, Aryan stepped forward without waiting for his mother's cue. He offered a respectful bow. "Lord Artem, Lady Indira, it's a pleasure to meet you." Turning his attention to the boy, he added with a warm smile, "And hello to you, Ivan."
The Romanovs exchanged surprised glances, clearly impressed by Aryan's poise and maturity. "Welcome to our home, Aryan, Lady Joanna," Artem said, his deep voice carrying a tone of sincerity. He turned slightly toward his father. "And it's good to see you, Father."
Sebastian nodded, his expression softening. "The pleasure is mine, Artem. The manor looks as splendid as ever."
Lady Indira stepped forward, her smile warm but tinged with curiosity as she gestured toward the main hall. "Please, join us for tea. "
As they entered the hall, Aryan's keen eyes took in the surroundings—the richly woven tapestries depicting the Romanov family's illustrious history, the intricately carved furniture, and the faint scent of lavender that lingered in the air. Despite the grandeur, the manor exuded a sense of warmth and homeliness that was both comforting and inviting.
Several maids bustled about, setting the table with fine china and an array of delectable pastries. Aryan noted the human maids with interest; it was uncommon in pureblood households, where house-elves were the norm.
He recalled how the Starks and their vassal houses often employed squibs—witches and wizards born without magical abilities—offering them refuge and purpose. These individuals, along with magical villagers who lived under the Stark banner, contributed to the thriving, self-sustaining communities scattered across the islands.
As they took their seats, Lady Indira poured tea with practiced grace. Joanna engaged her in lively conversation, the two women clearly at ease with each other. Aryan observed quietly, his gaze flickering to Ivan, who clung shyly to his mother's side. Lady Indira's voice drew his attention.
"How is Aryan faring with his studies?" she asked Joanna, her tone light but genuinely curious.
Joanna's eyes sparkled with pride. "He's excelling, as always. Though I do wonder if he might benefit from more opportunities to interact with others his age." She glanced meaningfully at Ivan, a subtle suggestion in her gaze.
Lady Indira chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ivan has been quite the handful lately. Haven't you, my love?" She reached out to ruffle the boy's hair, eliciting a bashful giggle as he ducked his head.
Artem and Sebastian soon delved into discussions about the affairs of their houses, their tones turning serious. Sensing the shift, Lady Indira rose gracefully from her seat. "Why don't we let them talk? Come, Aryan, I'll show you to Ivan's room."
Aryan followed her and Ivan up the grand staircase, the boy's small hand clutching his mother's as they walked. The corridors were lined with portraits of Romanov ancestors, their painted eyes seeming to follow the trio as they passed.
When they reached Ivan's room, Lady Indira opened the door to reveal a child's wonderland. The space was vibrant and inviting, filled with magical toys, books, and trinkets that seemed to hum with enchantment.
"Why don't you two play for a while?" Lady Indira said with a smile before leaving them alone.
For a moment, silence stretched between the boys. Aryan, sensing Ivan's shyness, knelt slightly to meet his gaze. "I'm Aryan Stark," he said, his tone warm and inviting.
Ivan hesitated, his small hands fidgeting before he mustered a quiet reply. "I'm Ivan Romanov."
The ice broken, Ivan's demeanor slowly transformed. He began showing Aryan his favorite toys, explaining their magical properties with an enthusiasm that belied his young age. Aryan listened attentively, genuinely impressed by the boy's passion and knowledge.
"You know," Aryan said thoughtfully, "You should visit Winterfell. We have a library with books about magic from all over the world. I think you'd love it."
Ivan's eyes widened, his excitement palpable. "Really? I'd love to see it!" He paused, his expression turning hesitant. "Do you think my parents would let me?"
Aryan smiled reassuringly. "I'll talk to them. I'm sure they'll agree. After all, friends should visit each other."
Ivan's face lit up. "We're friends?"
Aryan extended his hand. "Of course. Best friends."
Ivan grinned, taking Aryan's hand eagerly. "Best friends!"
When Lady Indira called them back downstairs, Ivan practically bounced with excitement. As the Starks prepared to leave, Ivan tugged on Aryan's sleeve. "I'm coming to Winterfell tomorrow! I asked Mama and Papa, and they said yes!"
Aryan's smile widened, a warmth spreading through him. "I'll be waiting for you, Ivan."
As they stepped back into the Floo Network, Aryan felt a sense of contentment he hadn't expected. For theSecond time, he had made a genuine connection—and it felt like the beginning of something truly special.