The Spare to Winterfell (ASOIAF OC)

The Assassin

Torrhen was sitting on the ground of the sickroom, his back leaning against the bed where his brother still laid, a great big book balancing against his legs, running his hand through Magnar's fur as the direwolf lay beside him.

It had been weeks since his father and the king departed along with his sisters.

Maester Luwin assured them that the worse had passed and they now need only wait for Bran to awake from his deep slumber. He had also told them that Bran may never be able to walk again, which only worsened the guilt that Torrhen felt.

Such a fate would shatter Bran once he wakes, the boy always dreamed of becoming a knight, aspiring to the likes of Barristan the Bold or Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. His mother remained by his bedside, refusing to leave it, though Torrhen still couldn't bear to look into her eyes.

Luwin entered the chambers at that moment. He was a small man, with his grey eyes and thinning grey hair absorbed in his ledger, carrying a small lamp.

"My lady." he said, addressing his mother "It is time we reviewed the figures. The cost of the royal visit requires our attention."

Torrhen placed his book to one side, putting out the candle on the ground with a pinch of his fingers, then rose to his feet. His mother was gently smoothing back Bran's hair from his forehead. It had grown long during his unconscious state these past few weeks.

"I have no need to look at the figures, Maester Luwin." she responded quietly, her eyes remaining locked to Bran "I know what this visit has cost us. Please, take the book away."

"But my lady." Luwin pressed on "the King's party had hearty appetites. We must replenish our stores."

"I said, remove the book." she snapped, her patience fraying "Our steward will handle our needs."

"Mother, we are without a steward." Torrhen interjected gently "Vayon accompanied father down south, to assist him."

"Then you do it." she retorted sharply "Haven't you been under Vayon's tutelage for this very reason? Leave me in peace, both of you."

Ignoring her dismissal, Luwin moved closer, placing his lamp in a niche by the door and adjusting the wick "My lady, there are several other responsibilities requiring your attention. Beside the steward, we are also in need of a captain of the guard to replace Jory, and a new master of horse.."

Her focus shifted swiftly from Bran to the two of them "A master of horse?" she echoed incredulously, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. It was clear she was baffled by Luwin's insistence on discussing such matters after her command for solitude.

"Hullen has also journeyed south with father, along with his son, Harwin." Torrhen began tentatively "I could speak with some of the stablehands and decide if one could perhaps be up to the challenge until they return." he made the suggestion, knowing full well of his mother's displeasure. He could feel the bitterness radiating from her, as thorough her gaze could bore holes in his very soul.

"Your brother lies here, broken and near death, and you two wish to discuss these trivial matters?" Her voice seethed with anger and pain "I don't care about stables or your damned accounts. Do you think any of that matters to me now? I would sacrifice every horse in Winterfell if it meant Bran would open his eyes. LEAVE NOW!"

"I'll handle the appointments, mother." Robb interjected, finished with the petitions, and Luwin moved passed to offer a slip of paper from his sleeve.

"As you say, my lord, A list of potential candidates for these vacant positions." Luwin bowed his head and departed.

Robb shut the door after him and now only family remained in the bedchambers "Mother, what are you doing?" Torrhen noticed the sword that dangled from his belt.