FORGED » t. greyjoy

ix

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WINTERFELL,
298 AC

UNFORTUNATE NEWS of the second eldest true born son of Lord Eddard of the House Stark, Bran, had supposedly fallen from an abandoned tower at the edge of Winterfell's great walls spread across Winterfell. All of the highborn, and especially the servants who had more personally known the boy more than the others had paid their respects to Bran's mother who had sat beside of Bran — who lay unconscious with Maester Luwin checking on the boy's condition.

Mallie Flowers' condition concerning the ache in her head had numbed down to a faintness. Mallie had gotten out of her bedchambers despite Maester Luwin's concerns to pay her own respects to the injured Bran Stark who laid in his bed unconscious.

The girl appeared at Bran Stark's open bedchambers and knocked on the heavy wooden door to let Lady Catelyn know that she was there. Lady Catelyn looked up and then stared back to her creation to honor the Seven, "You did not have to come."

"Ah, but alas: I had," Mallie stood at the end of Bran's bed. She stared at the motionless boy who barely looked like he had been breathing, then the girl looked over to Catelyn: whose cheeks had been stained with the streaks of tears that had fallen from her eyes. Mallie Flowers could sense the pain that had still remained in Lady Catelyn's eyes.

The girl bowed her head towards Bran and then came around to the side where Maester Luwin had been at a desk, writing down some information on some documents. Some books that would help Bran's health had been stacked beside the maester. Mallie looked at the papers; as it read:

"The younger true-born son of Lord Eddard of the House Stark, Bran Stark, has had a serious injury inflicted. He was found at the base of an abandoned tower as if he had fallen. The boy had always been so adventurous in his discovery of Winterfell — and therefore it is presumed that Bran had been climbing this tower and had fallen. 298 AC. Word from Maester Luwin in Winterfell."

She quickly returned back to look at the boy.

Bran had already looked so fragile, especially since he is only a boy who has known of eight name days. He looked as pale as flour and the weeping of his mother had not made him appear to look any better. Mallie Flowers thought about what Bran had become: a cripple. As he will always be from now on according to Maester Luwin's reports back to the Citadel of Oldtown.

From the point he fell and injured himself until the end of time Bran will always be a cripple. And especially he was to be Robb's banners when Robb is to inherit the lordship over Winterfell. But now? One could say he would now be a pathetic excuse for his oldest brother's banners.

Mallie sat down beside Lady Catelyn, on the floor. The girl took Catelyn's cold, shivering hands into her own and attempted to warm them once she had realized their temperature and how they looked. Her hands were a bright pink from creating her project to honor the Seven, "Your hands are freezing and pink, Catelyn. How long have you been here like this?"

"For a while. What else would be expected? Bran is my son. He was p— ... He slipped and unfortunately this has happened."

Mallie bowed her head to the grieving mother who looked up from her devotion to the boy who laid there limp on the bed that had in truth seemed to big for the frail boy who had just seemed to look like a bird with a broken wing just for a moment. "I pray that the mother give mercy to Bran. I pray that the Crone guides him back here from where he is now. And especially I pray that the Stranger not cast his shadow upon Bran, ever. ... Catelyn, I'll leave you to devote your prayers to the Seven Who Are One."

The Lady of Winterfell nodded and in-turn allowed for the girl to leave the room.

Mallie found herself at the grounds where people had yet been gathered. The King and Lord Eddard and their men had been readying the horses. The girl saw Theon Greyjoy next to a horse. She made her way to him and tapped his shoulder, "I appreciate that you sent Maester Luwin to tend to the expected ache in my head."

"And I appreciate that you appreciate my notion, Mallie."

Mallie patted the horse as he turned around to look at her, "Why are you readying a horse? What is the matter?"

Theon sighed, still adjusting the straps that secured the saddle onto the horse's back. She peered to Mallie whose face was full of worry, frowning for a while: "The ride back to King's Landing — Ned is now the Hand of the King ... The hand who wipes, as you may know."

"And you're riding there? What about — "

"All of the Stark daughters are ready ," Theon trailed off, and the kraken displayed his arm out for Mallie to grab. She did so, grabbing at the end of his forearm so that he grabbed hers aswell, "You'll be riding to King's Landing, Mallie. You know how Ned would expect you to be the handmaiden of his daughters. Good luck, you: they'll be a handful on the King's Road."

"Gods, I'd hope not as much as is expected of them," the girl stated. Mallie had been already dressed for horse-riding, as she had expected to go just this afternoon; but the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Lord of Winterfell had other ideas. She looked up to the horse whose back was rather tall, Theon had noticed this and helped her up to the saddle, "Thank you. Is you presence to be expected at King's Landing, Theon? Since you are a ward, after all."

"I am a ward no longer," he beamed with a sort of pride. "Ned has ended my stay here at Winterfell, and now I must tend to my own duties — to the bare cliffs of Pyke."

The girl's gaze focused onto the straps to secure herself into the saddle, as she tied them: "I'm assuming that all of my things needed are already in carriages."

"You assumptions ring to be true. It is along with Arya's and Sansa's things."

She became worried about something she knew not of. The girl reached over to the boy's hand which had been resting just above the horse's shoulders, and took his hand into hers. Mallie's eyes, as far as she had known, had become droopy and dull: she laughed after a while of silence between the two before she had begun to speak her mind — "I wish you safe travels, hopefully your ship captain isn't some Essosian trader making a bad calculation in his attempts at riches. I know that the waters of the Iron Islands do not bid new-comers safe travels either."

"And I: you," Theon pecked at the girl's hand that he turned over with his own.

"I will be alright in the shadow of the King."

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