Willas Arryn was a boy of ten when he was sent to Winterfell as a ward to Catelyn Stark.
He was her nephew, the son of her younger sister, Lysa and her husband, Jon Arryn. Willas's brother, Robin, was a boy of five at the time.
Willas had the looks of a Tully. The red hair and blue eyes. The kind face. He was strong at ten, much stronger than his brother, who still drank from his mother's breast. Willas supposed he was lucky that he was not the weak, sickly boy that Robin had become. He supposed he was lucky to be sent to Winterfell, where he could learn and grow among his Stark cousins and his aunt and uncle.
Eddard Stark had two sons.
Jon Snow and Robb Stark were both twelve, two years the senior of Willas, but he stood taller than both of them all the same, much to both of their distaste. It was not that the two hated Willas, but they certainly didn't appreciate his sudden placement in their lives.
Robb got the worst of it, or, at least, he thought he did.
Catelyn doted on Willas, always complimenting him on something or another. When Willas managed to take down the fourteen-year-old Theon Greyjoy while sparring, Catelyn had been there to congratulate him. When Willas fell ill with a minor fever, Catelyn sat by his bedside for three nights until the fever broke.
But Catelyn was only doing what Lysa wanted.
Lysa thought that since Robin was so very sickly, that it would only be a matter of time before Willas succumbed to some horrible disease and found himself too weak to do anything. She thought that his strength should be encouraged while he still had it.
Her husband thought she was foolish for believing that their son's excellence would ever fail.
Willas was a wonderful boy, the Lord that the Eyrie needed for when Jon was dead and gone.
He had never been good with horses, however.
Never quite understood how the animal needed to trust you, or else you'd be thrown.
Jon, Theon, and Robb always made fun of him when he struggled to mount his horse. Always joked that he'd need to ride in wheelhouse if he were to travel.
Catelyn and Eddard tried their best to stop the mocking, but boys would be boys.
Willas hated them for that. He hated the way they laughed at him. He hated the way Theon would accidently slip on his horse and shout out, 'Look, I'm Will, now!'
It was far too often that he and Theon would find themselves brawling in the yard as Robb and Jon shouted at the pair of them, urging them to stop before Eddard and Catelyn came out.
One day in particular, Willas had grown enraged at Theon while sparring.
The slap of the flat of his training sword had left a wide, purple and yellow bruise on Theon's cheek that remained there for nearly a month before it finally faded.
Willas had been punished with no sparring until the bruise was gone, and while he was rather annoyed by it, he found a sick kind of pleasure in himself at the sight of Theon breaking into tears.
Finally, the trio's taunting became too much for Willas.
The three watched Willas as he managed a running start, jumping up and threading the fingers of his right hand through the reins of his horse.
The animal reared up, letting out a wild neighing as Willas found himself tumbling, his fingers twisting painfully in the reins.
His foot caught in the stirrups, and he hung limply for a moment before the horse's weight collapsed on his leg.
Willas Arryn let out a horrible, gut-wrenching scream as his leg was crushed.
He pulled his fingers free, the three in the middle twisted all at odd angles. The horse stumbled to it's feet, pawing at the dirt as it backed away from the form of the young boy.
Willas continued to scream, as Jon, Robb, and Theon stared at him with horror in their eyes. None of them dared to move.
Catelyn was the first to rush into the yard, demanding explanations as Willas screamed and sobbed from the ground.
The morning's ride was canceled, and Willas was taken to Maester Luwin.
His leg was broken, as were the three twisted fingers.
Maester Luwin made him splints for his injuries. The fingers would heal, albeit still remain bent oddly. There was little hope for his leg; if it did heal, then it would leave him with a painful limp. If it grew worse, the limb would have to be amputated.
Willas was confined to his bedchambers for over a month, his meals brought to him by servants and his bedclothes changed daily. He bathed every week, needing the assistance of a servant to do so, even if it embarrassed him to no extent.
Robb and Jon visited him often in his chambers, discussing in great joy the birth of the kennelmaster's newest pups.
Theon visited once, but hardly said anything to Willas. He only stared at the young boy, smiling sadly at each attempt Willas made at joking. He left in silence without a goodbye, though Willas did not mind.
When his leg healed the best it could, Willas was left with an awkward limp. Running hurt, sparring hurt worse, and riding felt like utter torture with the jostling movements.
Catelyn wrote Lysa to explain what had happened, and while his mother begged for him to be sent home, Willas remained in Winterfell. His father thought that the injury gave his son some humility, it would be good for him in the long run. Willas wasn't quite sure he agreed, but his father was a smart man, so it must have been true.
Theon privately dubbed Willas 'cripple', mocking the younger man to servants and stablehands. None of the brothel's whores would even look at Willas now.
He didn't care.
All appetites for riding, fighting, and fucking had been lost to Willas Arryn.
He only wanted to be left alone.
Ser Rodrik Cassel took to giving Willas private sword lessons. It didn't take long for him to relearn the basics of sword fighting, and while he was slower now, he grew stronger.
Willas would not let this injury ruin him.
