I was expecting the fight to continue with the Mountain. Fighting was fun, even more than I anticipated it to be. Though, maybe because I was winning. However, the King stopped the fighting after that.
"You'll get all the skulls to crack tomorrow. Gosh, I feel my blood rushing, seeing finally someone using a hammer in a tourney." The King laughed and patted my shoulder, to which I just remained indifferent.
After that, we took our leave from the jousting. Good, because I wasn't looking forward to meeting those high-born lords coming to socialize with me. Bunch of leeches, all of them. If they were expecting me to lick their arses just like everyone else, then forget about Seven— even seventy of those gods wouldn't prevent those asses from lighting up in a fight.
"Why can't I use a hammer like you? I can't even lift it?" Arya asked with a pouty face as I escorted the girls back to their rooms.
"Believe me, child, you're not the only one incapable of lifting it," I said but saw Arya looking at Mjolnir with hot eyes. Apparently, she too wanted to break swords with a hammer.
"You're learning the sword dance from your new dancing teacher, right? Focus on that; it will serve you well." I sighed. Never seen a more headstrong girl than her. Even Sif back in Asgard was better.
Sif had to work extra hard to get recognized as a warrior, being a girl and all, but she did it. I'm sure Arya would find her path soon enough as well. She might be the only Stark in the entire pack whom I wasn't worried about.
Others, though, they were a troublesome bunch. I looked at Sansa, who was walking a little behind us with Septa, occasionally glancing at me. The girl was too green for this place, and so was Ned Stark.
"Can I use a hammer when I grow up?" Arya asked with hopeful eyes.
"Hmm, sure. As long as you grow up big and strong. For that, you have to eat more, train well, and rest plenty. Remember the Turtle Hermit way."
"Turtle Hermit?" Arya was confused.
"Hahaha... never mind. Just make sure you focus on your dancing lessons." I laughed and kept going.
The King has called me to dinner tonight for some reason. I have to find something good to wear. I thought of skipping it. However, there is one person whom I wish to meet at this gathering...
---
[Winterfell]
The room door opened, and a small foot stepped out into the darkness of night. It would be very soon that dawn would break, and then he'd have enough light to travel. However, if he wished to leave Winterfell successfully, then he had to leave now.
Bran looked at his room and then at the castle entirely. Hesitation was inside him, but he knew that he had to do this.
No one believed him when he told them he saw things. He saw the Wall and what was beyond it. He saw a Three-Eyed Raven and found himself trapped inside some animal every time he dreamed. But no one believed him.
Bran himself had no proof to show them. However, he knew that these things he saw were not just dreams. Only by going north could he get answers to his questions.
However, it was obvious that no one would let him, so he had no other option but to act on his own. Leaving Winterfell under the cover of night was his only way out. He was ready— from enough food to a small weapon in case the need arose, he packed everything. He even stole a pony for himself from Winterfell so he wouldn't have to walk all the way to the Wall.
But hesitation was stopping his legs from taking another step out of the castle.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and with a determined look, finally took the step out. Going north alone would be very dangerous, and Bran knew that, but he had to go.
Soon, dawn broke, and there was enough light for him to continue his journey.
'It will be a while before everyone in Winterfell finds out. I should hurry.' Pressing his lips together, he increased his speed. This time around, the effect of the Three-Eyed Raven was much stronger on Bran for some reason.
Maybe it was partly because Bran wasn't hurt, so he was strong enough that the Three-Eyed Raven showed him more, or just the simple fact that the Three-Eyed Raven saw the future changing into something he couldn't seem to control, and thus he needed his successor with him as soon as possible.
Bran, though, only knew one thing: he had to hurry. The reason was unknown, but the voice in his mind told him that he had to hurry. Things had changed.
What things and how they had changed, he had no idea, but those few words from the dreams didn't let him sleep easy. He had to go. Find out what called him and why.
However, just as he was making his way north, he heard movement around him. Sounds that startled him.
"Who's there?" Bran asked. The sun wasn't high enough to completely light up the forest. In the darkness, he heard many voices, and he knew one thing— no animal up here in the North made that sound.
He put more pressure on the pony to walk faster. However, that was when he saw the bushes moving, and his eyes widened.
He saw a bunch of people with ragged clothing closing in on him with weapons in their hands.
'Wildlings...' Bran recognized them in an instant. Only the Wildlings dressed like that up in the North.
'But how come they are here, this close to Winterfell?' His heart suddenly set in panic before he gave the pony's reins a hard tug, making it start galloping the other way around.
"After him! Don't let him escape!" One of the Wildlings shouted. Bran was already bolting out of the forest the other way around. He was going in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to be, but he had no option.
If he were to fall into the Wildlings' hands, only the old gods knew what would happen to him. So he pushed his pony even more.
The pony wasn't fast enough, but the people chasing him were on foot, so Bran was still in a better situation.
But not for long. While they indeed couldn't capture him, they could attack him from a distance. They didn't care about some lord's son dying more than their own presence being known to the said lord.
One of them notched an arrow and hit the poor pony, making Bran fall down and the pony let out a painful scream.
"No..." Bran was hurt but still rose to his feet to run. He knew he couldn't let them catch him. This would not only endanger his life but also involve his family if those Wildlings knew who he was.
Minutes of running felt like hours for the little boy before he was out of breath. The Wildlings were closing in on him, and he couldn't hide with his ragged breathing in hopes that they wouldn't find him.
So, behind a tree, he hid from them. He felt them coming closer and was just trying to keep his breathing under control so they wouldn't hear him.
"Find the boy. He has to be here!" shouted one of the men.
xxx
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