"I don't want to be queen. The people choose me to be their queen because if a false king sits on the Iron Throne, the kingdom will bleed."
Clarissa Baratheon has played the Game of Thrones since she was a child. But will she win or will she die?
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"DON'T listen to it. Crows are all liars. I know a story about a crow," Old Nan said to Bran, who had woken up the day before.
Clarissa was sat beside him on the bed with his direwolf, Summer, laying on the other side of him. "I hate your stories," Bran remarked which made Old Nan continue her talking; "I know a story about a boy who hated stories. I could tell you about Ser Duncan the Tall. Those were always your favourites."
"Those weren't my favourites. My favourites were the scary ones," Bran told her which caused her to spill into a ramble.
"Oh, my sweet summer child. What do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter when the snows fall a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night when the sun hides for years and children are born and live and die all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little Lord when the White Walkers move through the woods. Thousands of years ago there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve and wept and felt the tears freeze on their cheeks. So, is this the sort of story that you like? In that darkness, the White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses, hunting with their packs of pale spiders big as hounds..." Old Nan was interrupted by Robb entering the room; "What are you telling him now?"
Clarissa was silently thanking Robb for interrupting because her story was starting to send shivers down her spine. "Only what the little Lord wants to hear," Old Nan responded to Robb.
"Get your supper. I want some time with him," he told her which she bowed to him before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
"One time she told me the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant named Macomber," Robb told Bran who Clarissa felt wasn't particularly happy to see his brother.
"Maybe we do," he stated, not looking up at Robb.
"How do you feel? You still don't remember anything? I've seen you climb a thousand times. In the wind, in the rain...a thousand times. You never fall," Robb expressed as he looked down at his bedridden brother.
"I did though. It's true, isn't it...what Maester Luwin says about my legs? I'd rather be dead," Bran snarled which made Clarissa look towards Robb with her blue eyes wide in shock.
"Don't ever say that," Robb snapped at Bran, shocked that he would say that.
"I'd rather be dead," Bran sneered again at Robb before Clarissa signalled for Robb to leave her alone with Bran.
"Why would you rather be dead?" she asked the young boy who huffed at her.
He remained silent with arms crossed over his chest as he looked away from the princess; pouting in anger. She smiled sadly at him before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her. "You are only young, Bran. Even without the ability to move your legs, I believe you will still make an impact on the world," she told him before deciding to leave him alone by standing up from the bed and closing the door behind her.
