𝓒𝔂𝓮𝓵
"Left, then right. Good, Rickon," Cyel said happily, as she held Rickon's little hands in hers. The youngest Stark, was feeling lonely, so Cyel had spent most of the mornings with him.
They were outside, in the gardens. Phelya felt good enough to breath fresh hair, so she was sitting down as her daughter taught Rickon how to dance. The little pup of the Stark family wanted to impress Antea once she would come back home with the Lady.
Robb was tense recently, they all were. The last thing they heard about Lady Stark was that she had taken captive the Imp, but no more than that could be heard. Winds were changing and usually it was never for the best. Cyel had never lived in a period like that, but she feared that everything that was happening was just leading all of them more and more towards a war.
Cyel had talked about it with her mother and that conversation didn't make her fears disappear.
"We have to trust our lords, Cyel," she had said "That is all we can do at this time"
Even Bran was nervous and he preferred to be alone lately. Cyel didn't want to push him into talking, but she wasn't sure it was the right decision... she had never had to handle anything but a happy Bran. It broke her heart see him close in on himself.
"Then one back and one ahead," said Rickon looking at his feet on the ground, making sure to not move wrongly.
"Correct," Cyel stated with a smile, before turning to her mother who nodded her head happily.
Phelya had always enjoyed seeing her daughter dance, since the first time Oberyn Martell taught her how to begin under the hot sun of Dorne.
"Cyel," Maester Luwin's voice made the girl stop her movements to turn towards the man "Robb is asking for your presence," she tried to understand what the situation could be just by looking the maester, but she really couldn't tell, she just felt worried. In the last period whenever Robb wanted to talk with her it was never a positive conversation. A while back four of lord Stark's guardsmen had come back with Lady's bones. It had been a very sad day, knowing that Sansa had lost her direwolf. Cyel remembered Summer, Shaggydog and Grey Wind howling, it almost made her cry, and when sweet Lady had been buried under the shadow of First Keep, where the Stark let rest their faithful servants who had passed away, her brothers moved around like ghosts, quietly mourning.
Cyel missed the days where Robb called for her just to walk in the gardens and exchange happy words with one another.
"No," Rickon complained as Cyel nodded her head. The girl felt bad leaving him, he wasn't understanding and lately he had become even more rebellious than usual.
"Little lord," said Phelya with her harmonious voice "I would like to dance with you," Rickon looked at the woman blinking his big blue eyes.
"Do you?" he asked before Phelya nodded with a sweet smile.
"I'll stay with Rickon" she said to her daughter "Do not worry."
"Are you sure, mother?" asked Cyel, not wanting for her mother to tired herself, but Phelya giggled.
"We are going to have a lot of fun," she said pocking Rickon's side who chuckled.
"Thank you," Cyel said before walking to the maester.
They made their way towards the main hall quietly, speaking a few words every now and then, but Cyel could see that the man looked pensive. She wasn't sure he knew what that was about, but either way both of them were feeling uneasy.
What else can happen?
Cyel asked herself, barely remembering the days they had spent all together and happily in those walls. It hadn't been that long, but it felt like ages.
Maester Luwin opened the heavy wooden door for Cyel, letting her pass. Inside there were Robb standing, pacing back and forth as both Theon and Bran observed him, with unsure expressions. Cyel looked at Theon as if to ask what was happening, but the older boy shook his head. Bran's gaze didn't leave his brother, studying his every move.
"Robb," she said cautiously getting closer to the young lord, who had a piece of parchment clenched in his fist. He seemed shocked, without words as his blue eyes met her brown ones "What ails you, my lord?" she asked with soft voice. He looked at her, pain in his eyes, almost distress that scared Cyel, but she did her best to not let it show.
"This letter arrived," he said turning to the two boys "Marked with Father's own seal, but it's written from Sansa," Cyel and Bran's eyes met for a moment, before the younger lord's ones got back to his brother with discomfort. Theon nodded his head with a frown, waiting for his friend to keep speaking.
"She says Father conspired of treason with the King's brothers," at Robb disgusted words, Cyel covered her mouth with her hand as to suffocate a sound that never came, it seemed impossible for her to say a word.
Treason?
It was impossible. Lord Stark would have never done something of that sort. He and the King were friends.
"King Robert is dead," Robb kept saying, "And Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear fealty to Joffrey." Cyel saw Theon shooking his head, biting his lips, "She says we must be loyal, and when she marries Joffrey, she will plead him to spare our lord's Father's life."
It seemed like a nightmare. What was happening in King's Landing? And if they had arrested Lord Stark what was of Sansa and Arya? Where were they keeping them? If their father was believed to be a traitor, that made them traitors too. Then why was Sansa talking about marring Joffrey? The Queen surely wouldn't want a traitor as her son's wife.
"And she says nothing about Arya, nothing," Robb said.
Cyel couldn't make a reasonable thinking. Treason was an outrageous charge, dangerous. Lord Stark could die... the girls could die. Arya could already be dead by now.
"Damn her!" Robb exclaimed
"Robb!" Cyel found herself saying, but the young Stark insisted.
"You think it too," he said, "What's wrong with the girl?"
"We don't know what is happening," Cyel said with a stronger voice than she thought she possessed "We only know that they are charging Lord Stark, they have him captive, we can't know what is of Sansa."
"This is her hand writing," Robb argued back.
"Maybe she was forced to," Cyel said. There must had been an explanation for that letter, they couldn't possibly trust Sansa if her father was believed a traitor.
"She lost her wolf," Bran whispered sadly making Cyel walk towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bran's gloomy eyes looked up at her, before going back in his thoughts.
"They just want to lure you to go South," Theon said walking closer to Cyel, "It had happened before."
Theon was right, and surely Robb remembered what had happened to Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon, the father and the brother of Eddard Stark. All of them and all the North remembered that they had been summoned at the Red Keep by the Mad King that had killed them both and the guardsmen that had accompanied them, that was the reason why the North had gone to battle against the Crown in the last war.
"None of them has ever come back," said Bran in a whisper.
Robb passed a hand on his auburn hair, in distress. He was just fifteen and he had on his shoulders the weight of deciding what they had to do; going South to oath loyalty or to war. He turned his back at them, trying to understand what to do. Cyel's hand was still on Bran's shoulder as Theon's gaze never left the young lord.
"Maester," Robb said finally.
"Yes, my lord," the maester said with grave voice.
"We'll go South, to Riverrun, with our sword in hand" he said with strong voice, making Cyel shiver "Call the banners," the girl turned to Theon who was proudly looking at his friend.
"My lord," the maester said bowing before exiting the room.
Silence fell in the room as the wooden door closed, making the sound seemed loud at Cyel's ears. They were going to war, both Robb and Theon would have left to fight on the battlefield. A battle, a real battle, not the one they pretended to fight as they were children, with sticks or wooden swords. That was real, they were going to risk their life.
We are just children...
Her eyes look down at Bran, whose fists were clenched and white.
"Bran," she said in a whisper.
"Someone has to tell Rickon," Bran said to his brother, who nodded.
"I will," he assured, before turning to Cyel, "I will need your help, Cyel," she nodded waiting for her lord to command her.
"The Houses of the North will be here soon," he said doing his best to keep a straight voice, "I will need you to arrange the Castle," he shivered for a moment, it broke her heart "It... usually it is the duty of the lady, but.... nor Mother or... Antea..."
"I shall have everything prepared for our noble lords, my lord," she said before bowing at him and heading out of the main hall.
They had been tiring days those she had to face up the next days. Now everyone in Winterfell knew what was happening to their lord, and what Robb had decided. Cyel was sure that they had written to Lady Catelyn and she couldn't stand the thought of the Lady knowing that her eldest son was about to fight a war. And she felt pained to think about Antea.
I wish they were here.
Servants often asked her for a word of comfort, to know what they had to expect from all of that. The girl was doing her best not to let anyone getting too worried, but how could she when she was the first one to be terrorized?
We are just children
"My lady, we have prepared the wheat as you commanded," Heren said bowing to her.
"Everyone have answered they will come," Cyel said taking a breath, "I do not know how many people will be in here."
She had been preparing everything for days now. She went to sleep late and woke up early. She wasn't taking her lessons anymore, being too busy making sure that everything was ready for the nobles that were arriving. It was important for the host to give his guests the best meat and wheat, water and wine. A guest was sacred under the roof.
"Candles?" she asked as she walked down the corridors.
"We are preparing the new ones for the guests' arrival," Heren said. Cyel was sure she had already asked the same question before. She felt like it was all a dream, the worst nightmare. It seemed like they were preparing a feast, like they had done in the years back... but thit was an oath of loyalty for war. War... she had just heard of it in stories or songs. But usually there, a great hero arrived and saved the day, helping everyone, saving everyone... But this was real life and many people had already died, others were about to get killed and many others were about to leave to fight. She could just trust and wait, and be there for them. Servants were already talking to her as if she was the Lady of the Castle. It was overwhelming, what was it that she was doing? She was just twelve.
"My lady!" Heren exclaimed as Cyel fall on her knees in the corridor.
Even Rickon was becoming even wilder after Robb talked to him, he cried, screamed and fought with everyone. And Bran was closing himself in. Since what had happened in the woods, with the Wildlings, he was angrier, and quieter. He wanted to be left alone most of the time and she didn't know how to help him.
"I do not even know what I am doing, Heren," the girl said closing her eyes, covering her face with one of her hands, "I wish Lady Catelyn was here," she would have known what to do. How to get everything ready, helping her children and Robb and giving comforting words to her people.
"My lady," she said kneeling in front of her, "Do not feel like this, my lady. You are giving us hope."
"How?" she asked surprised of her words.
"You smile, no matter what is happening," she said nodding her head, "And you are managing to get everything set. Lord Robb entrusted this to you, he trusts you with this and all of us with him." Cyel's eyes watered, she would have never thought she would have found herself in that situation. But she had to be strong. She was Oberyn Martell's daughter.
Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken
What was she doing on the floor? Robb and Theon were going to fight in battle and Bran would become Lord of Winterfel. She had to do her best, do everything she could to make the people feel safe and let their guests feel welcomed.
"Forgive me, Heren," Cyel said finally standing up, "I let my nerves get the best of me. It will not happen again," she assured with a smile.
And she kept her word. At the first house's arrival everything was ready and Robb had kind words for her work. He went to welcome the bannermen as Cyel took her very first sleep after days. She slept most of the day, but was ready for the feast they had prepared. The Umbers were there, the Glovers and others, even her uncle's House of Rosemberg. She had greeted him at the feast as she next to Bran, who was occupying the place of honor at his brother's right hand. People looked at him as he entered the room on Hodor's back. Cyel could see him blush, but keep a straight face, trying not to pay much attention to their gazes. It was the first time for other nobles to see his new condition. Cyel observed them, looking, some were whispering and it pained her. And in her mind, she damned the Lannisters.
"My lord," she said bowing in front of Hodor and Bran, who looked at her with surprise.
"Cyel..."
"Shall we sit?" he nodded at her question, before the two of them set and started dine.
Sitting next to her was her mother, it was the first time since she got ill that she enjoyed a feast. They started to dine after Robb's speech of welcoming and gratitude. Bran smiled at Cyel as he named her the banners that he had learned.
"Do you know how many knights have come?" he asked, but she shook her head. It had been days since the last time the two of them had spent a small amount of time together.
"I do not."
"Maester Luwin told me that to be a knight it is necessary to stand the vigil on a sept and be anointed with the seven oils to consecrate the vows," he explained with the same light that shined his eyes every time he talked about knights and stories.
"Northmen believe in the Old Gods though," she said taking a sip of her water.
"Indeed," Bran nodded, "Only few believe in the Seven, the others are not knights. Maester Luwin says that in the North a man is not marked for a ser before his name."
"And what do you think?" she asked with a smile.
"I would like a ser before my name," he said, "But I don't think that other men are not valiant enough."
Cyel observed him, "You really want to be a knight, don't you?"
"You mean I would have liked to," he said bitterly eating the meat in his plate. She bit her lips.
"I'm sorry, Bran," she said, "I had no intention to-"
"It doesn't matter, it's not you," he said looking down at his legs, "This is how people will look at me right now. This is what I am."
Cyel was looking at Bran from across the room as she had stood up. That had been the first time he had talked to her about his legs, he had never open up about it, keeping it to himself, thinking of it all alone. She felt sorry for what she had said, she didn't mean to hurt him.
It was true. Bran's conditions were permanent and people would have always looked at him like that, but it was irrelevant. Bran hadn't changed in her eyes; he was smart and he had strong opinions for his age, he observed and he understood. He listened and people loved him. There was nothing different to her.
"My dear niece," her Uncle's voice made her turn. Amhet Rosemberg and his always blue attaier.
"Uncle Amhet," she greeted, "It's such a joy for us to have you here."
"I prayed it would have happened in a more joyful time," at his words she nodded her head.
"As all of us."
Soon Phelya joined them and the two siblings greeted each other with a hug and a kiss on their cheeks. Phelya couldn't hide her worry for her brother's life, but both of them where moved by the hope of freeing their good Lord.
"It is outrageous what the Lannister had accused Lord Stark of," he said, "We are going to free him and his sweet daughters."
"And the Lannisters have to hope you will," Phelya said, "Because the North remembers and we will not forgive them for this."
Northerners were loyal to the Starks, no one would have ever forgiven a Lannister for this. And Cyel would have not forgiven many more crimes of that family.
"But tell me more pleasant words, dear niece," her uncle said, making the girl turn from Bran, "How are you?" Cyel forced a little sad smile.
"I'm afraid I don't have pleasant words in this moment, my sweet uncle," she said taking a breath, "Lately just worry it's all I feel."
"They are our Lords," he said solemnly before smiling at her, "But is it the single motive?"
"Amhet," Phelya warned, "Not now."
"My niece is going to became a Stark one day," Amhet said with a sort of pride in his voice. "Is it lord Robb who you belong to?" Cyel frowned. Her uncle had always been eager for her marriage. He always said that because Oberyn Martell was a Prince, it didn't matter her name, she had the same possibilities of high-born ladies. Cyel knew that her family, all her family would have gain prestige by her marriage, but she wasn't used to feel that pressured inside the walls of Winterfel.
"He is not," she said before bowing, "I'll take my leave now."
"Little Brandon?" she heard her uncle say as she walked away, "But... now he is..."
Bran's life won't be easy from now on...
Her Lady's words came back in her mind. The last time she had seen Lady Stark, she had made a promise; to help him and protect him. And she would, like she had promised.
She touched the neckless Bran had given her for her name day. She wore it every day ever since, it was very dear to her.
A few days later, all of the Bannermen had arrived, the Karstarks were the last House they were waiting. Winterfel was full of people. And in a few mornings, Robb and all the men would have gone away. Bran was quieter, probably worried for his brother.
"Good day, little girl," she was taking two waffles for herself and Bran in the kitchen, when Osha, the wildling woman appeared next to her. Since she had arrived, Robb had sent her to work in the kitchen, she wore iron on her legs, but she moved quieter than a cat.
"Did I scare you, little one?" she asked seeing that Cyel hadn't said anything.
"Good day, Osha," she said "You've startled me."
"Hungry, are we?" Cyel looked at her plate with a small smile.
"It's for Brandon too."
"The boy?" she asked, making Cyel nod with a frown, "I've talked to him earlier. He was in the Godswood talking to the Gods." He was praying for Robb surely. Cyel had done the same, both in the Godswood and at the Seven. And she hoped that someone would have listened to their prayers.
"It is the only thing we can do now," Cyel said taking the plate and moving away.
"The road is wrong," Osha said making her stop, "I've already told the little boy; his brother should be going North," Cyel frowned at her words, what did she mean? What was she talking about?
Still not understanding she arrived in front of Bran's room. Going North, why should Robb go North? Now that she thought about that, Osha was leaving the North with the other Wildlings that had attacked Bran. What were they running from?
"Hello," she said entering that room, where she saw Bran sitting on his bed.
"Cyel," he said.
"I've brought you a waffle," she said, "I was hoping, we could eat together this morrow."
"I'd like that," he said with a small smile.
They sat there quietly eating, it didn't feel quite right. There had never been silence since they had met. She observed him for a moment before talking.
"It pains me to see you so pensive," at her words he looked up at her. "I know that I cannot understand what you are going through, but I'd like to help you," he stayed silent for a moment.
"You can't help me, Cyel," he said sadly. She could not deny that those words hurt her heart. But she tried to hide it.
"Then I'll just listen," Bran frowned a moment as she spoke again. "What is it that is troubling you?"
Bran bit his lips, before eating another piece of his waffle. She really wanted for him to open up, they had always talked, but this was the first time in their life that they had to talk about serious matters. She remembered that once what troubled them most was Maester Luwin's next lesson. She missed those days.
"Tonight, Robb won't be at the feast," Bran finally spoke, looking away, out of the window. "I'll have to be the host, but... they will all look at me." Cyel quietly listened, "Maester Luwin told me they will look, and they will talk, and they will mock. I know they will, they've already done it." Cyel nodded her head, she knew they would have, she knew they did.
"Did they hurt you?" she asked carefully as he looked away, stubbornly shrugging his shoulders.
"Let them mock," he said with determined voice, surprising her. "I can't avoid it. I mean, I would. But I would have to stay in this chamber forever and I will not live my life in bed."
Cyel was always surprised at Bran's strenght. He was leaving a nightmare, in every aspect of his life, but he still looked up, facing ahead.
"It's that... they assume I'm just a broken thing," he said bitterly, "Bran the broken."
Bran... She knew he was suffering, but it was terrible to hear it for real.
"I don't want to be broken, Cyel," he said fiercely "I want to fly, like the crow said."
The crow in his dream. Fly or die, it had said. He survived, but he couldn't move now.
"You must think I'm a stupid," he said, "Like Maester Luwin."
Cyel took his hand. "Don't you ever say that," she said firmly. "I know how it feels, to feel overwhelmed, not enough. To feel scared."
Bran frowned, "You don't have to feel like that, there is nothing wrong with you."
Cyel smiled at him. "And I know that you won't believe me but, I think there is nothing wrong with you too."
The boy scoffed, "I doubt it."
"But it's true," she assured. "You are strong, Bran," he looked at her with wide eyes and a faint blush.
"But... what it's going to be?" he asked after a moment.
"Nor me, nor you can tell," she said shaking her head, "But we'll figure it out, together if you want."
"Even if I'm broken?" he asked blinking his eyes as she nodded.
"And will you help me, even if I am scared?"
"Of course," he said immediately. Then she pulled out her pinky at him.
"So, let's promise that we'll always help each other," she said with a smile as he took her pinky in his.
"You promise to help me find the children of the forest, so I can learn magic," he said with a smile, "And I promise to always protect you and look after you, so that you don't feel scared anymore."
"Alright," she said with a smile, looking at their intertwined pinkies.
Two days later they were outside to say goodbye to Robb and Theon. Cyel had hugged Theon close at her in his room. He was like a brother to her.
"Please, come back," she said as her face was pressed in his fur.
"Do not fear, little one," he said passing a hand in her hair. "I'll be back soon," she wiped away her tears as they went to the stables to say their farewell at the gate on the back of their horses. Robb was there with his armor, sword on his hip, on his horse. Cyel got closer to him with her horse, bowing her head at the Lord of Winterfel.
"Come back soon, Robb," she said with tears in her eyes. Robb took her hand and kissed her forehead.
"I will" he said with a smile, "Take care of Bran," he said looking behind her shoulders, "He'll need you."
"We'll take care of each other, Robb," she said, "I promise."
She moved her horse so that she could stand next to Bran, who was strapped atop of Dancer. Rickon wasn't there, he refused to, saying that no one ever came back.
"You are the lord in Winterfell now," Robb said to Bran. "You must take my place, as I took Father's, until we come home."
"I know" he answered sadly, he must have felt very scared. The two of them had talked even about his fears of becoming Lord, he felt like it wasn't his place. He had said that Winterfell was Robb's. Bran felt like he didn't know how to be a lord.
"Listen to Maester Luwin's counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I'll be back as soon as the fighting is done." Robb said, "I'll bring back Father, I promise."
And with that Robb marched away with Theon and the Northerners, ready to battle.
Take them back, prayed Cyel. And, make them all be back safe.