Chapter 12

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        They both awoke the next morning back in the chamber, covered with wolfskin blankets. Someone must have found them and carried them. It was probably Osha and Hodor; they always had their eyes out for the little rulers of Winterfell.

        She was also dressed in her nightgown, so Osha also must have dressed her. She panicked for a moment, her hand flashing up to her neck where her dragon tooth necklace was. She felt it there, and sighed in relief; if Osha had taken it off, she would have probably gotten mad.

         "People are always more beautiful when they aren't looking; have you realized that?" Bran said, the sudden sound of his voice making Mare jump. She looked up at him and laughed at his bed-head.

        "Yes, Bran, I have realized that. And you have some serious case of bed-head," she giggled, thinking that her hair was probably no better.

        He smiled. "We should get some more pie today. Mare, we should make that a tradition," Bran said in a tone that signaled no arguments. She wouldn't have anyway; she loved the idea.

        There was a knock at the door that scared them both. It was Maester Luwin.

        "Bran, Mare, there is another village meeting today. The Lords are seeking more trouble; they're restless, Bran," he said, a grimm look on his face. Bran sighed, and her heart felt heavy.

        "It's okay Bran, you're doing good. You're doing your best," Mare said, resting her hand on his. He looked over at her and smiled weakly.

        "Maester, we'll be out in a few minutes, Bran and I need some time alone," Mare said softly, and Maester nodded and shut the door behind him. She turned to him.

        "You're doing so well as Lord of Winterfell, Bran. You shouldn't care what anyone else says; if I think you're doing good, and if Maester thinks it, it's all that matters," Mare said gently, trying to get it into his head that he was taking his job seriously and thus deserved it.

        "It's stressful, though," Bran admitted bitterly, "I don't understand how my father did it."

        "Because your father had years of experience and practice," Mare said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Now c'mon, Lord Brandon Stark, we have to tend to our people."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

        Rickon was smashing walnuts with a rock.

        During the village meeting.

        A poor farmer was trying to talk about how wolves were out and about and killing his livestock, and every other word that would come out of his mouth, Rickon would smash a walnut. Mare could see Bran's patience running short, and she knew that, in any moment, he would snap.

        The man that was talking about his livestock was resolved of his issue and escorted out of the main village house, along with the rest of the people gathered. Now left was only Maester Luwin, Bran, Rickon, Hodor, and Mare. Bran leaned over and whispered harshly, "Stop it!" to Rickon, who just sighed.

        "Rickon, would you like me to sing to you?" Mare asked, starting to get up from her chair. She could see his eyes brighten ever so slightly.

        "I would like to go for a ride before it gets dark. Mare, would you like to come?" Bran asked her, and she nodded.

        "Rickon, I'll sing to you before you go to sleep, okay?" Mare asked, and Rickon nodded. Mare was about to get up when Ser Rodrik stormed in the room.

        "Lord Stark, Lady Dalyngridge," he said, mainly to Bran but friendly nodding at Mare also. "Torin's Square is under siege."

        "That's barely fourty leagues from here," Maester Luwin said, fright lacing his voice and clouding his features. "How can the Lannisters strike so far north?"

        Bran looked down at his hands, and then to Mare. "We have to help them."

        "My Lord, most of the men are away, fighting for Robb," Ser Rodrik said grimly. "But I can gather two hundred decent men."

        "You need so many-" Maester Luwin started, but was cut off by Bran.

        "If we can't protect out own bannermen, why should they protect us?" he said quietly but fiercely, his eyes glinting in an odd light. He looked at Ser Rodrik. "Go. Take the men you need."

        "It won't take long, milord," he said with a small bow, leaving the room with the guards he brought in. Bran turned to Mare, an exhausted look on his face.

        "So," he started with a sigh, "how about that ride?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

        "I've already asked him, and the Maester has never heard of a three-eyed crow," Bran said shortly, looking down at Mare despite the fact that he was talking to Osha.

        "Well then it must mean nothing," Osha said, shifting the basket she was carrying.

        "You're lying," Bran stated simply with a smirk.

        "You may be a little Lord but don't you ever call me a liar," Osha said in a warning tone.

        "Well you know what it means!" Bran exclaimed as they approached their horses. Bran's horse, Roland, and Mare's horse, Arion, waited patiently, and they were being held by a guard. Hodor lifted Bran on his horse and Osha boosted Mare so she could climb on Arion, her all-black friesan horse that had been given to her just a week before. He was a huge war horse that had seen war, cold, death, and harsh punishments, yet he had managed to warm up to Mare very quickly; willing to cooperate with her so soon after being given to her. After dinner, she always secretly gave him a sugar cube.

        "So, little Lord, you've been dreaming of a three-eyed raven again?" Osha asked as he was settled into his saddle. Mare stroked Arion's neck and whispered to him. He had grown accustomed to her voice, and only her voice. He was off to the slaughter house a day before she requested to have him, and Lord Brandon hadn't stopped her; encouraged her, even, to save him. Ever since she did, the horse felt as if he owed something to her. He owed his life to this small girl.

        "Yes," Bran said shortly, glaring at Osha.

        "I remember back in the Godswood when you said you didn't dream," Osha smirked, and Bran rolled his eyes.

        "What did you see in your dream?" Osha asked him. Bran gave her a grim look, and her face fell. "Bad, I'm guessing. Tell me."

        "I dreamt that the sea came to Winterfell," Bran said, his voice sounding deeper. Mare's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He sounded different, older. Maybe all the stress was making him grow up too fast. She really hoped her young king was okay. Since the betrothel was true, she didn't want him too stressed. That would make for a sour future king.

        Arion sensed her distress and shuffled around, hiping a slow movement would lull her back to comfort.

        "I saw waves crashing against the gates," Bran continued, "and the water came flowing over the walls. It flooded the castle; drowned men were floating everywhere. Ser Rodrik was one of them."

        Osha looked at him in panic. "The sea is hundreds of miles away from here, Bran, that can't happen."

        "I know, it's just a stupid dream," Bran said, looking to Mare.

        "Are you ready to go now, Bran?" Mare asked, grabbing hold of the reins. He nodded. 

        And off they rode, their horse's hooves pounding against the ground, their laughter drowned out by the sound of the forest.

              

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