Good morrow! So this idea just came to me while watching an interview with Richard Madden, who plays Robb Stark. I'm completely obsessed with Game of Thrones at the moment. Some of the details I have completely made up just to suite the story and I have changed a lot of the storyline for this story to work and actually have a finish point somewhere along the line.
It mostly follows the storyline of the TV series but there are certain points that are in the books and not in the TV show that I have included.
Anyway! Hope you enjoy. Please R&R! TEAM WOLF!
Disclaimer: All content other than my OCs belong to George RR Martin and HBO.
Chapter 1
Maerad Cassel threw the bucket in her hand into the nearby shed, grinning as she turned and headed out of the stables. Her smile widened as she stepped into one of many of Winterfell's open areas. She inhaled the smell of smoke from the Smiths next to her, listening to the harsh sounds of a hammer imprinting on hot metal. Maerad paused and watched as the men and women rushed by, all with serious expressions, clearly with somewhere important to be. Many probably still had errands left to complete for the day.
Maerad closed her eyes, breathing in the putrid smells and loving every bit of the hectic atmosphere. It was days like this that she was proud to be from the North. She didn't care for fancy clothes or warm weather, or ladies in revealing dresses like the lifestyle of the other six kingdoms. Maerad much preferred the chill that hung in the air constantly, even during the long summers and the winter-hardened men with their rough hands and loud, bellowing laughs. Sure it could be barbaric sometimes, but it was home. Winterfell, of the House Stark was the only place she knew. And she knew it well.
Maerad idly made her way through the muddy streets, occasionally nodding hello to a familiar face. Her boots sloshed in the mud and her clothes were caked in dirt but she barely noticed. Her clothes were hardly expensive. In fact, the only expensive thing she owned was a leather bracelet with a direwolf indented in it. It had been a gift from Robb – the direwolf was a House sigil that they both shared, the Cassel House had ten white wolf heads, arrangeed as 4-3-2-1, on grey with a black border; the Stark's was a grey direwolf racing across a field of white. The only other jewellery that she owned was a 16th name day present from her father. It was a necklace with her sigil engraved on the underside. It wasn't anything special, but it was the thought that counted.
Maerad made her way towards the training grounds that everyone used for fight practice. She knew they would be there. It was rare if there weren't training. Maerad had affectionately named them the 'troublesome trio' after the many escapades that they used to have as children.
She heard them first. The familiar sounds of wood clashing with wood. As she turned the corner, she saw a man fall to the ground and heard the delighted shouts from two bystanders. Maerad recognised them as Theon and Jon simply from their stances. Theon Greyjoy was stood almost squarely towards Jon, giving him a bigger target. He sat low in his stance and evenly weighted, prepared to either strike or defend. His fighting style was much more about strength and momentum behind his sword.
Jon was almost completely the opposite. He stood side on, barely crouched at all, more like he was on tiptoes and he delicately placed each foot perfectly around him. His style was much more relaxed and admittedly more flamboyant. Jon was better, but he was too sure of himself. This is why Theon had just knocked him to the ground when Maerad had entered.
Robb and Bran were the first to spot her. They were both leaning on the fence at the side-lines, laughing giddily at Jon's fall. Bran, the younger of the two, saw her and eagerly waved her over, calling her name. This action made Robb turn, his fiery hair flaming in the sun. He smiled widely when he saw her.
Maerad reached them quickly and was about to hug Robb when Bran jumped into her arms.
"Oh, Bran!" She wheezed, "You're getting too big for this!"
Bran simply nuzzled his face into her neck. His nose was pleasantly warm against her bare neck. Maerad ruffled his hair and he let go. Before she had time to recover, Robb pulled her into a strong embrace.
"Glad you could finally join us," He whispered in her ear. Maerad caught herself before her knees buckled at the sound of his voice. There was some kind of connection between them that she just couldn't explain. It wasn't just raw, physical heat between them; he made her feel comfortable and safe.
"I wouldn't miss Jon losing for the world." She replied as the two let go of each other. Something in Bran's eyes made her feel as though they had held each other for just a little too long. Maerad blushed under the brother's gaze. The three of them exchanged awkward looks. They quickly turned back to the competition in front of them. Jon had witnessed the entire thing and waved at her before setting his eyes back on Theon. The boys –Theon, Robb and Jon – were fiercely competitive and Maerad knew Jon wouldn't go down without a fight. Theon simply ignored her presence and continued to tease Jon with harsh remarks.
"Jon will beat Theon. Without a doubt." Bran declared next to her. Robb and Maerad exchanged a sly glance.
"Are you sure about that, little lord?" Maerad let her brown eyes fall on Bran questioningly. Bran nodded curtly. Maerad smiled.
"Care to make it interesting?" Bran met her challenging gaze. He nodded again.
"How about 5 Gold Dragons!" Bran exclaimed. Maerad laughed, astonished.
"I'm no noble Bran! I can barely afford to lose 1 Gold Dragon." She saw the glint in his eye and her face became serious again, "Fine. I hope you are prepared to lose." Maerad turned back to the competition. Robb seemed to have a grin permanently plastered on his face.
"Jon is by far a better swordsman." Bran stated, puffing out his chest at the pride in knowing something 'grown-up'.
Maerad nodded gravely, "Yes. The Hare was a better runner though and yet didn't win the race."
Bran silently pondered this. Maerad could practically see his 9-year-old brain ticking. Maerad winked at Robb, who shook his head. He was used to her antics by now.
The two had grown up together and barely spent a second apart. Maerad counted herself lucky to have such close proximity to a Great House family. The only reason for this was that the Cassel's and Stark's both had deep, intertwining roots. Her father, Jory Cassel, was Captain of the Guards here at Winterfell. They were not knights, the North rarely knighted anyone. They were, however, tasked with the same responsibilities that the Kingsguard would have, only protecting Lord Ned Stark instead of a king. Her Great Uncle, ser Rodrick Cassel was master-at-arms and castellan of Winterfell. Maerad wasn't completely sure what this meant he did. All she knew was that he and her father spent every day working beside Lord Stark himself. Over her 17 years, this meant she had grown up running around the ancient castle with Robb Stark and Jon Snow nipping at her heels. The Stark's treated her like family, an honour that a peasant girl like herself didn't deserve.
Bran sighed, "Okay, I don't understand."
Maerad kept her gaze steady on the two boys in front of her.
"Watch closely. Jon is a better swordsman, yes. But he is arrogant. He knows he is better and that is what makes him worse," Bran exchanged a look with Robb. Robb simply shook his head and told him silently to listen and watch. The two boys continued to spar ferociously in front of them.
"See here. Jon is going to try and take out Theon's front leg, now, to knock him off balance. Theon will move quicker and take out the side that Jon left unguarded." She paused as the fighting in front of them went exactly as she predicted. Bran's mouth fell open.
"Shut your mouth Bran or you'll catch flies." Maerad scolded. Bran did as he was told.
"That's also another reason why standing side on isn't always best." Robb joined the conversation.
"So what is the best way to stand?"
"None." Maerad and Robb chimed in unison. Bran looked shocked.
"The best way, is no way. Never put yourself in the position where you need to fight." Maerad allowed Robb to take over as she watched Theon knock Jon to the floor for the last time, "And if you do, find your own way of standing. One that suits your style and means that you can beat the fool that tried to battle a Stark." Bran smiled and Robb winked at him. Maerad simply rolled her eyes.
"Of course, because Starks are the best swordfighters to have ever graced the land." Theon chimed sarcastically. Maerad groaned inwardly.
"Relax, Theon." Robb sighed. Theon snapped his head to glare at Robb, stupidly challenging him. Bran interrupted before Theon could reply.
"Does this mean I lost the bet?" Theon and Jon exchanged a confused look.
"Yes it does, little lord. Hand it over." Maerad's face went stone cold with seriousness and she gestured stiffly with her hand. Bran sighed and reached into his pocket. His face dropped instantly.
"What's wrong?" Maerad frowned.
Bran glanced to his feet and started shuffling them uncomfortably, "Well, I... Uhm. I don't have enough." He avoided Maerad's icy glare.
"Pay me what you can and get me the rest later," Maerad shrugged. She honestly wasn't taking this quite so seriously.
Bran nodded and looked over her shoulder at Robb. Maerad turned away, rolling her eyes as Theon finally caught up with the conversation.
"Wait. You betted that I would lose?" Maerad met his cold eyes with a lazily glance.
"Correction. Bran bet that you would lose."
"Why?"
Maerad sighed. She was closer to these nobles than to her neighbours but she still couldn't stand Theon Greyjoy. Maerad could easily list 10 things that she hated about him. He was crude, big-headed and acted as if he was entitled to everything. This apparently included all the available women of the North, hence why whores called him the Squid behind his back – only a stab at his House sigil. She could appreciate that it must have been hard to be taken away from his family at such a young age and forced to live with a family of strangers, one of whom tried to kill your own father. But Maerad couldn't shake the feeling that Theon would turn against the Starks for even the slightest bribe. She could only dream about what would happen if his own father asked him to turn against the Starks. That worried Maerad deeply and had developed over the years into hatred. A point that hadn't gone unnoticed by Theon and he not-so-graciously returned the sentiment. Still, she put up with him because he was Robb's best friend – not that she understood why.
Robb tried to relax his friend, "It doesn't matter, Theon. You won anyway, right?"
Theon shook his head vehemently, "You people don't think I'm better than Jon?" Jon's eyes widened at his name being mentioned.
"Well, no. Because you aren't." Maerad put it bluntly.
Theon scowled at her while Jon chuckled proudly to himself. Theon raised his wooden sword to her head slowly.
"If you think you know so much, whore," Theon spat, "Why don't you come and teach me a lesson?"
Maerad felt her anger rising. Not to mention the bile in her throat at the multitude of innuendos that Theon would surely have thought of. As if to answer her thought, Theon smiled grimly.
Beside her she felt Robb stiffen. Jon joined in.
"Yeah, Maerad. Teach Theon how to fight properly." Jon winked and passed her his wooden sword.
Robb laughed, the sound not matching the emotion of his glare at Theon, "I don't think we have enough time for that."
Maerad laughed too and Theon's eyes glazed coldly. His expression remained deadly serious as he carefully watched Maerad jump the railing effortlessly and stride towards him.
Maerad gripped the sword hilt like her father had taught; lightly for able movement but firm between the thumb and forefinger so as to not drop it. She could almost picture him whispering instructions in her ear like he used to when they were younger.
From the side-lines, Bran watched eagerly. "What's Maerad's fighting stance like then?" Bran had noticed that she stood exactly how she did when simply walking around Winterfell.
Robb and Jon grinned, "That is her stance," Robb whispered, "Her father taught her that the best fighters can win even when they aren't ready. So her told her to stand straight and relaxed, as if walking around in the godswood."
Bran nodded, storing the information and examining every detail.
Maerad and Theon circled each other slowly, placing each foot gently on the muddy surface.
Suddenly, Theon shouted and burst forward, bringing his sword up above his head to slam down on her top half. Maerad watched it calmly the whole way and easily dodged with a small step to the right. As he barrelled past – missing her completely – she slammed her sword on his spine with a tiny, swift flick of her wrist. Theon bellowed at the pain.
Their audience cheered with delight. Robb laughed at Theon's angry face. Out of the corner of his eye, Robb saw a glint of metal. He turned to see Maerad's father, Jory Cassel, leaning lazily on the railing with a smile spread across his face. Jory sensed eyes on him and met Robb's squarely. Blue eyes on blue eyes. Jory nodded and turned back to his daughter.
Maerad dodged another identical attack from Theon, this time aiming her sword at the back of his knees. Theon gritted his teeth, readying himself to go again. Theon lifted his sword to the right, going for a side swipe. Maerad seized this opportunity to strike first and quickly sprang forwards, slamming her sword into his chest. Theon collapsed to his knees, winded. Maerad hadn't finished yet though. As she passed him, she span and swatted his neck with the flat edge of her sword.
Bored, Maerad turned and headed towards the three watching. She noticed with a smile that they were all wearing different expressions. Bran was in total awe. His eyes were wide and mouth was ajar. Jon was virtually expressionless. Jon had had a hard time beating Theon and clearly didn't like that she had done it so easily. Maerad winked at Bran. Robb's face was much better. He was smiling broadly and he had a strange glint in his strikingly blue eyes. She looked at him questioningly. He said nothing, simply jerked his head to her left. She followed his indication and spotted a man wearing full armour, leaning on the fence. She squinted against the sun and quickly kicked herself for not noticing who it was beforehand.
Dropping her sword, Maerad ran towards her father. It was rare for him to get any time free to see her, so Maerad was naturally suspicious. Maerad hurdled the fence easily and leaped into her father's arms. He huffed loudly, as she had done when Bran had done the same.
"Mae, you're hurting my shoulders."
"Sorry." She released him, "I forgot how constricting your armour is."
Jory smiled and waved his hand dismissively.
"That was impressive. Carry on like that and you'll have me out of a job." They laughed.
"Seriously. What's going on?"
"Can a man not come and watch his daughter and only child embarrass the heir to the Iron Islands. I never get to see you."
"That's exactly my point. You never get to see me unless it's really important. Which usually means nothing good." Jory sighed.
"You need to stop sounding so much like your mother." Maerad saw a flash of sadness in her father's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy for him. Maerad was told constantly that she looked so much like her mother. Maerad could only just remember her. She had been a handmaid to Lady Catelyn Stark. She had died when Maerad was 11 from the influenza. Maerad could see on her father's face how much it pained him whenever her name was mentioned. He hid it well, but Maerad knew him too well. And now she was starting to look exactly like her. The same dark, tousled brown hair and deep brown eyes and the same olive coloured skin. Maerad could only imagine the pain he must feel inside every time he looked at his daughter.
"A deserter from the Night's Watch has been found." Maerad's heart caught in her throat.
"Go and help Caine to prepare the horses." Maerad nodded and started to walk away. "And Bran's too." Maerad froze, mid-stride. She span around and marched back to her father.
"Bran? He's only nine!"
"So were Robb and Jon the first time." Maerad saw in his eyes that he didn't agree with it either. Maerad let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, Maerad. Ned thinks Bran is ready, so Bran is going too. Period." With that, Jory turned and stormed over to Robb and the others.
Maerad watched them closely. Jon and Theon reacted least. They simply turned away and headed towards the main gate, to wait for their horses. Robb's first reaction was to look at his little brother. He looked terrified. Something unreadable to Maerad flashed in Robb's eyes. A mixture of grief and sadness. He regained his composure and ushered the frozen Bran out of the training yard.
With a sigh, Maerad dutifully ran to the stables.
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