Hera's family was murdered in cold blood by their enemies. Hera got away and went to Winterfell, where the Starks lived. She knew she would be safe there, because Ned Stark and her father were close friends. Now, years later, she still live there...
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CHAPTER TWENTY - BETRAYAL
They had come to the conclusion that Hera's arm were in fact not broken, just sprained. She would have to be careful and take things slowly, so she wouldn't damage it more. She was so used to swordfighting and riding that doing neither of those things made her extremely bored.
She decided to find out where her brother was. She had been wanting to speak with him for a while now, and since she had nothing else to do, it seemed like now was the perfect time. Since she couldn't ride, she would have to walk, which she didn't mind.
Her feet carried her through the woods, towards where she suspected her brother might be hiding. He had said that a nice family close by had offered to let him stay, so it shouldn't be that hard to find him. She just hoped that he hadn't gone back to Essos.
After a while, she spotted a small farm. A cottage was on the left side of it, and horses and pigs roamed a paddock next to it. The farm smelled like shit, literally. She suspected that the paddock hadn't been emptied in a while. The horses perked up when she walked by, their eyes following her every move.
She knocked on the door, waiting for someone to open it. After a while, she heard footsteps approaching on the other side. The door swung open, to reveal a middle aged woman. She had long brown and graying hair that was tied in a knot, and brown eyes that looked at her suspiciously. Her skin was wrinkly, but that is to be expected of someone her age. She wore simple clothes, a pale blue and long sleeved dress covered in dirt stains and small holes. "Yes?" the woman asked, her voice surprisingly light. "Can I help you?"
Hera could hear voices coming from inside, which confirmed that other people lived here. When she tried to look past the woman, she narrowed her eyes at her. "Does a young man live her by any chance? Dark brown curly hair, brown eyes and tanned skin?"
At her question, the woman grew wary. She stood up straighter and crossed her arms. "No one here looks like that."
"It's alright, Helga." Derron appeared behind the woman, giving her an reassuring look. "I know her."
Helga seemed to relax at his words. She gave Hera a sharp nod, before dissapearing inside, leaving her alone with Derron. Derron leaned against the doorframe, looking at her with curiosity. He offered her a small smile. "Sorry about that, she isn't so fond of strangers."
Hera gave him a small smile. "I could tell," she answered lightly.
Her remark caused Derron to breathe out an airy laugh. He moved to the side, making room for her. "Why don't you come inside? I suspect we have much to talk about."
