"Brandon." He tells me, his face still blank and emotionless. Brandon. There was a name that I hadn't heard in a long time, Brandon, the uncle who died before I was born, and Brandon, the brother who left to go beyond the wall. Bran, my sweet little brother, is he even still alive?
"Brandon, that's not a common name..." I say thoughtfully, he smiles. "Brandon Snow, I was named after my father." My eyes widen, "Brandon Stark?!" He nods, smirking, "You may as well call me milord; I'm the most highborn man you've ever been beaten by!" I frown and grudgingly take hold of his arm, he pulls me up. I snatch my hand back and wipe the dust off my dress.
"Maybe," I say, he isn't though; Robb beat me plenty of times. Robb... "We'll meet again." He told me at the gates of Winterfell, before he rode off to save father, before father died, before he broke his oath to Walder Frey, before the red wedding... My older brother who didn't want to train with me, but when I started hitting him anyway, he eventually got so frustrated that he hit back. I had trained with Jon before that, but Robb was better. His sword skills didn't save him in the end though, probably because those craven bastards stabbed him while he was unarmed.
"Who are you?" He asks me, and for a second I almost say Amari Stark, but I stop myself just in time. "Amari, Amari Snow." He smiles, "A bastard too eh? And a northerner," I only nod warily, "Are you here alone? It isn't safe for a girl on the Kingsroad, especially not one with as sharp a tongue as you." I stay silent and he smiles, "Though I'll admit you're pretty good with a sword… for a girl."
I can't help it, the corners of my mouth twitch. He grins, and I force myself to keep my face blank. "I'm not alone." I say stonily, "Who are you with then?" I glance behind me, "My brother." I say, and I almost laugh at the look of worry on his face, I can tell what he's thinking. Seven hells, I just knocked down a girl, and if she's almost as good as I am then her brother is going to kill me! However I groan inwardly as a small boy runs out from the tavern and stands at my side, he looks warily at Brandon and grabs onto my dress. Great timing Rickon!
He laughs, he laughs and laughs and I just want to slap that smug smile of his handsome face. But I'm thinking all the while, if Brandon Stark, my uncle, was his father, then that makes him my cousin! Maybe if I told him who I was... No. We agreed; it's too dangerous. I look back again; Osha is standing in the doorway, looking threateningly at Brandon, her hand around the hilt of that dangerous blade she always keeps at her hip.
"And who are you little man?" He asks, bending over Rickon and smiling kindly, as he recovers from his laughing fit. My little brother looks up at me unsurely, he is five now, but he is still just I child, I nod, just a very slight movement of my head, almost unnoticeable.
"Rick Snow." He says, it sounds too false, too memorized. But Brandon Snow stands up straighter and looks at me, "Where are you headed?" He asks. Before I can reply, Osha steps forward, her hand resting on Rickon's shoulder. "North, to Castle Black." She says coldly, but he only smirks, "Sounds as good a place as any, as long as I don't have to join the Nights Watch myself."
I frown, "What are you taking about?" I ask him, "I'll come with you." He says, he looks excited as a child on his name day, "What?! Why?!" I protest, "My mother's dead, there's nothing exciting here, why not I say?" I shake my head, "Are you simple? You don't just go along with strangers! We could be..." He smirks, "What? Thieves? Murderers? The little one looks like a rapist to me, you should watch out!" He laughs, "You can't come with us." I tell him flatly, "Alright then, I'm going to Castle Black still, the same way that you go. I don't need your food or your blankets or your fire, but I'm going with you anyway." I sigh exasperatedly, he's definitely as stubborn as a Stark, and actually he quite reminds me of baby Rickon!
We had been on the road for a week, and true to his word, Brandon hadn't asked for food, blankets or even to sit by our fire. But by day he rode with us and generally annoyed the hell out of me. Though it was nice to have some company other than Osha and Rickon.
"Why are you going to the wall anyway?" He asks me for the thousandth time, like always I don't reply. "There's hardly any place for girls there, or little boys." I just ignore him, my eyes on the horizon, moors of purple heather and foggy crags lie ahead for miles.
But the weather grows colder every day, winter is coming. "Do you have a brother who's in the watch? Or your father?" I shake my head, "You really aren't very friendly you know!" I stay silent, and he sighs. The wind whips at my dress, and he pushes his hair away from his face again for the thousandth time.
His hair is a lighter brown than mine, more like chestnuts where mine is ash brown, Stark brown. But his eyes are grey, and all I can think of is father when I look into them.
Arya had grey eyes too, Stark eyes. But mine are blue like mother's... "Am I attractive to you?" He asks, I look at him, my eyebrows raised, "Do you think I am ugly?" I just roll my eyes, "Disgustingly so." I say in a flat tone.
He only smirks, "Is that why you won't talk to me Amari?" I sigh, "I will talk to you when you have something to say." "I've got plenty to say!" I look at him pointedly, "Something clever to say." He only smiles, and I look ahead, soon we will be able to see it, soon.
The wall is our last hope, Jon is our last family. Sansa is trapped in Kings Landing, Arya's missing, Bran's north of the wall, Mother and Father and Robb...
We have to get to Jon, Jon is safety, Jon is not fearing for your lives every day, not having to cut the dire-wolf sigil out of your clothes, not having to stay in brothels and eat rats. Jon is getting to be Amari Stark again.
"Look, there's a village ahead!" Rickon says happily from behind us, I look across to where he is pointing and smile. Sure enough, there is smoke rising in the distance.
"Finally, a hot meal and a feather bed!" Brandon says happily, I smirk, "Yeah, like you could ever afford a feather bed." He just smiles smugly, "Any bed is a feather bed after weeks on the road." I nod absentmindedly, there is a strange smell, and it grows stronger as we climb the hill.
"What is that smell?!" Rickon asks, scrunching up his nose, Osha's face has gone pale, "That's the dead, little one." She says softly, I gasp, and Brandon's smirk has faded.
"Stay here; I'll see what it is." He says bravely, and I reluctantly nod. He heads up the slope and disappears over the top.
We wait for a minute, then two minutes, then five, then ten. "I'm going after him." I say, Osha begins to protest but I'm already ridding up the hill, the smell is strong and sickening, and the smoke thick and black. I reach the crest and look down. It is a town, or it was a town.
The houses are all burnt away, crumbling blackened ruins, ash and charred wood. The stone sept is has only one side, the roof has caved in and its walls are black. The dead are everywhere. Headless, bloody, limbs hacked off and swords through the throat. Blood and bone and flesh and flies. The flies are everywhere, and so many are burnt, they look like mutton chips that were left in the fire too long; burnt to a crisp. I look about in horror and disgust.
"Brandon?!" I scream; my voice shrill as it echoes through he deserted town. But silence is my only reply, he is gone. I warily climb off my grey gelding and make my way down what must have once been a street, clambering over bodies and bits of timber. The ghosts of the buildings loom on either side.
"Brandon Snow?!" I call again, but there is only silence. The fear floods through me, thick and cold, making my heart beat faster and my hands shake.
I am even more frightened than that time that the gold cloaks came to the tavern we were in and one tried to grab me. I nearly slit his throat, so afraid that he was here to take me to Kings Landing, or to kill me. The only motive of his was a drunken urge to kiss the pretty girl, however he was not so drunk as to forget it. We had to run; they all attacked me when I nearly killed him. I dropped my dagger; it had a real dragon-bone handle, a gift from Jon before he left, and we had to leave some of our clothes that were in the room, though we owned little more than what was on our backs.
But even though there aren't any soldiers chasing me through the dead of night, this silence is far more terrifying. "Brandon, I swear if this is some stupid jape!"
A knife appears at my throat, I gasp as the cold metal presses against my skin. A voice whispers in my ear, low and husky, "Well, what do we have here? A little lady eh? Who are you sweetheart?" I breathe heavily and close my eyes tightly, not replying. "I said who are you?!" He growls, but I stay silent. Then something big and heavy swings out of nowhere and hits me hard in the back of the head. Everything goes dark.
O/O/O/O/O
When I wake, my hands and feet are bound, and I am tied to a wooden support beam, sitting on the cold dirt floor. I look around fearfully, I'm in some kind of house, and there are two floors. Brandon is tied to the wall across from me. I kick out at him, I can just reach his foot, I kick him and he moans, slowly opening his eyes.
"Where...?" He sits up straighter and looks around fearfully, "What are you doing here?!" He hisses at me, "I told you to wait!" I glare at him, "How could I just wait?!" He looks up at the ropes binding his hands above his head. "Who was it?!" I whisper, "Some man came at he from behind, I didn't see him." He frowns thoughtfully, "I think they were in the Nights Watch." He says, "Deserters you mean?!" I gasp; my eyes wide.
Father once told me that deserters are the most dangerous of criminals. Their lives are forfeit - and they know that. So they won't hesitate to commit any sort of horrible crimes. Like burning down a village, murdering the people, but it must be a large group of deserters then. Or perhaps it was someone else that burnt the village, wildlings maybe...
"Osha and Rickon-Rick! Hopefully they got away..." I whisper anxiously. But I know it's unlikely that Osha or my brother would leave. Eventually they will go into the village too and then both of them will be in the same predicament as us.
"Why didn't they just kill us?" He asks and I look at him in shock, he sighs, "I don't mean that I wish they had, just that why bother keeping us alive? Two bastards, why not kill us, what are they planning?" I sit quietly, staring at my hands, the man called me Milady, did he know me? Was it somehow obvious that I am highborn? Or was it just a jest?
"Where are the fucking cravens?!" Brandon says angrily, though I can see that it is just an act; he's just as afraid as I am.
Suddenly the door swings open and a man strides through, three other men behind him. He smiles at us and it makes my blood run cold. He has thick black hair, pale skin and lips so red that it looks like he has been drinking blood. He has a long scar across his face, going all the way from his right eye to the left side of his chin. He carries a terrifying serrated dagger, encrusted with blood red rubies. The blade must be stolen, for the man is dressed in rags.
"Hello there Milady!" He grins and walks over to me, kneeling; he puts his hand under my chin and lifts my head up. I look at him, my eyes cold and hating.
He only smirks, "Now, who are you? What house?" Brandon laughs humourlessly, the man whips around to look at him. "She's not a lady, she's a bastard." He tells him, the man grins and turns back to me.
"Not very bright is he?" I say nothing, "Now girl, what's your name?" I stay silent, looking defiantly at him, into his cold icy blue eyes.
His smile fades and he waves a hand at one of the other men. One steps forward, with greasy blonde hair and one ear missing, but his knife is just as sharp. He leans over Brandon and holds the blade to his throat, he struggles.
The first man turns back to me, "Now, who are you?" I am quiet, there is a slight nod and the greasy haired man digs the dagger deeper into Brandon's neck, blood trickles onto his jerkin and he cries out. I breathe heavily and look on in terror. The knife presses in again, Brandon's eyes are wide in fear, and I break.
"Amari!" I scream at him, "My name is Amari!" The knife presses again, "Amari Stark!" I say at last and start to sob. The man smiles and the greasy haired one wipes his dagger and puts it away, stepping into line once more.
Brandon looks at me is shock and confusion. "That wasn't so hard now was it?" He sighs, "Stark eh? Well, all your family is dead, that means nobody to ransom you to." He shakes his head sadly, "Not that anyone would want you, a daughter; you aren't really worth anything. I see his hand move to his own dagger.
"I'm the heir to Winterfell!" I say, "All my brothers are dead, and I'm the eldest girl. There are many who isn't my family that would want me, and I have an aunt, a very rich aunt!" He hesitates and moves his hand back to his side.
"Alright then." He grins, and stands back up. Then he leaves the room again, two of the men follow, but one with freckles and red curls who can't be much older than Brandon stays to guard us.
The moment they leave, I collapse with relief, Brandon's neck is still bleeding but he doesn't seem to notice.
"You're, you're Amari Stark?! That means you're my cousin!" I look at him sadly, "What did you mean your brothers are dead? Rick, Rickon is alive!" He whispers, glancing nervously at the guard, I sigh, "Yes you idiot, but if they knew that then they'd be off to hunt him down, and I wouldn't be of as much value, meaning that they wouldn't need me anymore!" I hiss at him.
He grows pale, "Well what about me? I'm not of any value, and I haven't got any rich aunts!" I stare at the floor, "I can convince my aunt Lysa to pay for you too, well, once I meet her..."
He groans, "You've never met her? How can you know she'll pay?" I frown, "She's my aunt!" He smiles, "Well, if it was my aunt who'd never met me, she wouldn't pay!" "I'd pay for you to be held hostage." I mutter, he laughs and I smile weakly.
But all I can think of is Osha and Rickon, I pray to the old gods that they carry on to Castle Black, that they don't get captured too, that Osha realizes she can't help me. However I can't see her abandoning me, or Rickon; I'm the only family he has left, and Osha swore to Bran that she would protect us both.
But right now, I'd give anything to see my little brother and Osha riding as fast as they can in the opposite direction.