A/N: Hello everyone! Guess who's back! *Eminem plays in background*
I apologise for taking so long with this chapter, I've recently moved into university and trying to settle in is hard work, and very tiring too. So, I'm sorry for not putting enough attention into this story over the past month. I'm also sorry for how long this intro will be, but bear with me.
But seriously guys, I can't thank any of you enough for the support I'm getting for this story. Favs and follows are now at least 30 each, and there have been over 1,000 views on the story so far! I am so grateful for it, and I have to thank all of you who have read it, and faved and followed it so far.
A special mention and thanks goes to CunningSlytherin, who in their very lovely review spoke about the relationship between Edward and Sansa, and how he would win her over. Now, I'm glad this was brought up, because I wanted to address it anyway as I didn't sooner (apologies for that.):
Edward and Sansa are the main pairing in this story, as I personally really enjoy Sansa and her character, even though she was a spoilt brat and got completely fucked over in the first couple of seasons. Whilst they definitely aren't the only pairing in my story, they will be the main one, and considering how long I intend for this story to last - and I mean LONG - I will be trying to make the pairing a very slow burner. Another reason for this is because of the two's characters; Whilst Edward does have a crush on Sansa, he doesn't expect it to go anywhere, and so mainly ignores those feelings, and Sansa at the start is the same one from Season 1, and is completely naive and obsessed with Joffrey, so there's no way that she'd think of Edward like he would to her.
With that in mind, this story is about evolving feelings and relationships as much as it is about the themes of love, power, war, betrayal, and injustice. Whilst I intend to make the world of Westeros as dark and desperate as it is shown in the books and TV show, I also allow for there to be a little bit of happiness and love. However, don't expect for things to turn good immediately. The reason why I got hooked on the show was because of the grim realism portrayed, which is why the nice moments were extra sweet. The love and pairings will come, but not for a long while yet, because darkness and death is coming before it.
Again, sorry for the long note, but I wanted to clarify that this is a slow burner and not a miraculous deux-ex machina ridiculous story where everything perfectly fits into place instantly. Things will mess up, people will get fucked over, and things will be bad before they get good.
With that sorted, enjoy chapter 4!
Chapter 4 - Let the Game Begin
As Edward sat down for breakfast with his family, the Starks and the Royal family, all he could feel was a pounding headache throbbing behind his eyes. He didn't even hear his cousin or father greet him, due to all of his focus being on pushing his hangover to the back of his mind.
Now, Edward wasn't much of an experienced drinker, and it clearly showed; his hair was even messier than usual, with his locks spiking up in more random directions than usual, his eyes were quite bloodshot from lack of sleep and had dark circles under them, and his throat felt like it had been grinded on a whetstone. Not to mention that he had almost thrown his guts up last night too.
All that after two measly cups of wine. Jon was right, he was an utter lightweight.
After trying to avoid any type of talking with anyone, and failing to attempt to eat any of the bacon and dark fruits and fish on display in front of him in fear of puking again, Jory had noticed his symptoms, and showed sympathy towards his younger family member.
"Edward, here, drink this."
The Captain of the Guard poured a cup of red, dark liquid and placed it in front of Edward on the table they were seated at.
One look at the goblet of wine and Edward snapped his head to glare incredulously at Jory, but immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his neck and head. He pressed his hand up against his forehead to try and relieve the pain as he spoke.
"Why are you giving me more wine? It'll only make it worse."
"You're wrong, little one. A little bit of wine helps to get rid of it for a while, because that is what your body needs to stop the headache. That way, you can ease out of it instead of suffering."
Seeing the sense in helping to ease his way out of being hungover, Edward reluctantly began taking small sips of the drink. Almost instantly, the pain started to go away, leaving only a bearable, dull ache at the back of his skull.
"Besides Edward, you're going to need a clear head in training today." Jory stated with a smirk.
"Why's that?" the young Cassel questioned, rather cautious of what Jory would respond with.
"Because you and Robb will be facing and fighting with Prince Joffrey."
Instinctively trying to stop spitting out the wine he was drinking in shock, Edward managed to swallow the liquid before giving yet another stunned look at his cousin.
"Wait, what?"
He definitely wasn't looking forward to it earlier, as the prospect of facing off against the Crown Prince and heir to the Iron Throne was quite daunting, and scary if he accidentally injured him severely. Gods knew what the King and Queen would do to him if that happened.
Now, he was almost finding it amusing.
Edward stood there at the edge of the training pen, dressed in his Northern leather overalls, a hidden smirk on his face as he watched Robb basically thrashing the shit out of Joffrey, with the Prince whimpering and wincing every time Robb's ironwood practice sword hit his body or his own practice sword.
Eventually, Robb either had grown tired from beating Joffrey, or bored of the snivelling Prince's cowardice and lack of experience with a sword, because he stopped fighting and left Joffrey in the dirt, and looked victoriously at Ser Rodrick, who was taking charge of the session, as usual.
"Right then, I think Robb has won that spar, my Prince. Come on, out of the training ring, Robb." Ser Rodrick stated, glancing at both combatants and then at his son, as if to signal his turn at swordplay against the still grounded and defeated Prince.
Edward strode confidently into the ring, his practice sword in hand, a confident smile on his features as he passed Robb, who wore a similar smirk. Edward knew the Stark heir had enjoyed that very one-sided battle, probably because he was secretly testing Joffrey's mettle and worthiness.
The Cassel heir, however, wanted to release some steam. Some very heated steam. Along with the news that Lord Stark was to be the new Hand of the King, it was also announced that Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa were to be betrothed to each other, and married once they were both of adulthood, or when Joffrey became King.
Of course, Edward had expected it as soon as the two saw each other, but old habits and feelings die hard, as the young Northerner could not help but feel annoyed and extremely jealous at the young Prince. Despite feeling a sting at the knowledge that his own feelings would have gone nowhere anyway, it didn't mean that those feelings would just dissipate instantly.
Why should he earn the hand and affections of one of the prettiest and kind-hearted ladies in all the realm? Just because of his stupid bloodright?
He can't even fight properly. He wouldn't even be able to defend her from danger.
With his self-pity and loathing thoughts manifesting his anger into a barely hidden scowl that eradicated his smirk, Edward spun his practice sword in his right hand to prepare himself for the absolute hiding he would give the Prince. When he got up off the ground, at least.
Still wincing from the many bruises Robb would have administered to his body, Joffrey stood up and got into a fighting stance, as did Edward, with more prowess, since he had been taught it for years.
As was custom to distracting his opponent, Edward let loose a challenging insult.
"Ready to end up on your arse again, my Prince?" he snarled, accentuating the "Prince" to mock him.
It seemed to work, as Joffrey gripped his sword more tightly, and even dared to retort, his light voice betraying the tone of anger he tried to put in it.
"We'll see how you talk to me when it's you who is beaten."
Joffrey ran at Edward, hoping to give a heavily swung blow to the Cassel. Edward simply stepped to the side, but left out his foot, ending up in Joffrey tripping over it and falling to the ground again.
"I don't see how you're going to beat me with a move like that. Your stance and grip is all wrong, my Prince. I wonder how your lady will react to your improper military discipline." Edward mocked, a smirk returning to his face.
Deciding to go against his ego by including Sansa in it was below his honour to say it, but Edward didn't care. Seeing Joffrey beaten and angry was proving to be very satisfying, and was serving to ease his jealousy at the Prince.
Joffrey, red in the face from embarrassment and rage, stood up immediately and pointed his sword at the smirking Edward. "How dare you speak to me like that!"
Swinging his sword repeatedly in an attempt to hit Edward, who was retreating backwards as he strode forward, Joffrey entered into what his father called an "immature tantrum". Not caring about his stance or footing, or about his balance, he looked a spitting image of a 6 year old Robb trying to swing a sword for the first time.
Edward would have burst into laughter, had he not been in the situation he was in. However, he had a more important idea on his mind.
Allowing Joffrey to move forward whilst swinging his sword haphazardly, Edward held his own practice sword in front of him, pointing it at the raging Prince, who in his tantrum, wasn't focusing on where he was actually swinging.
Edward stopped walking backwards. Joffrey kept moving forward, hoping his sword would connect with something, anything. And it did.
As the two ironwood swords connected, the sudden surprise that hit Joffrey caused him to stumble, as the rhythm from swinging his sword was abruptly stopped.
Edward had predicted this, and and when the Prince had recoiled from the clashing swords, he went on the offensive. Much like what had happened when he had fought with Robb, Edward marched forward, with Joffrey stumbling backwards trying to regain his feet. Every time Joffrey held up his sword to try and balance himself, the Cassel swatted it away with his own, until eventually the beaten Prince landed on his behind in the Winterfell dirt.
"Yield! I yield!" the squirming Prince shrieked, throwing his sword away from his grounded body and holding up his hands in fear.
As Edward stood there, watching Joffrey beg for mercy, he desperately wanted to just beat the living shit out of him with his ironwood sword. Sweet, sweet satisfaction in response to his and Sansa's betrothal. His teeth grit, and jaw set, as he lifted his sword as if to strike.
However, Edward threw his sword to the ground, but retained the serious, almost hateful expression. As much as he wanted to indulge in his jealously and hurt the cowardly Prince for somehow winning Sansa's hand when he had no redeeming qualities whatsoever, he knew he couldn't. Regardless if he hit him or not, Sansa would still marry Joffrey, and not him.
His honour, and logic, as it had for years now, prevailed over emotion and passion.
As a sign of respect, albeit grudgingly, so that those watching were appeased, he offered his hand to Joffrey, who took it reluctantly. Helping him up to his feet, Edward did allow himself to whisper one small insult to the Prince.
"Good luck winning future battles fighting like that, my Prince."
Another look of anger on Joffrey's face made Edward think that he would go into another tantrum, but instead the golden-haired Baratheon stormed out of the training ring and inside the Winterfell castle.
"Probably going to bawl to his mother, most likely."
Edward noticed Robb had come to stand by his side as he said that, and gave a suppressed scoff in amusement at the remark.
"Insulting the crown Prince won't do you any favours, Robb. Best you not say such things." Ser Rodrick admonished the Stark heir.
Robb bowed his head acknowledgement. "Aye, you're probably right, Ser Rodrick. Are we done for the day?"
"When you return your practice swords to the armoury, aye."
As Robb and Edward went to take the ironwood swords and put them back, Ser Rodrick stopped his son.
"Well done today, son. Keep it up, and you'll become a fine fighter, better than I ever will."
Edward was quite surprised at his father's compliment. Smiling, he thanked him.
"Thank you father. That means a lot to hear it from you."
"But," Edward almost rolled his eyes. Of course his father would have some form of criticism for him. "Arrogance won't get you very far in a fight. Stay humble and focused. Alright?"
Lowering his head as a sign of slight shame, Edward thought back to the fight. Of course he was a bit headstrong, being an able fighter caused that, but why did he become so, so…..
Ruthless?
Thinking back to that moment where he wanted to beat an unarmed Prince at his mercy, Edward felt his cheeks tinge with red with embarrassment. He wanted to be known as an honourable fighter, much like Lord Stark and his father, so why did he almost break his moral code? Just so he could indulge in his jealousy at a boy who was betrothed to the girl that he had an infatuation with? An infatuation that would never be replicated?
Joffrey had nothing to do with that marriage proposal, and Sansa has never been happier. Perhaps I'm the one at fault.
Looking back up to his father, Edward replied.
"I understand, father. I'm sorry."
"I don't think it's me who you should apologise to, son. The Prince isn't as skilled a warrior as you are, perhaps you should go and say sorry to him for being too hard on him."
Edward nodded his agreement. As he made to walk off, however, Ser Rodrick placed his hand on his shoulder.
"When you're done, come back and find me and Jory. We'll need you when Lord Stark and King Robert return from their hunt."
"Yes father."
"Good lad."
Ser Rodrick gave his son a small but warm smile, which was reciprocated by his son, before he went to find Prince Joffrey.
The golden haired Prince, after suffering quite the humiliation at the hands of Edward and Robb, had stormed off - predictably - to find his mother. He was now pacing across the Queen's guest room, although it could be called marching, judging by how angry he was. The red in his cheeks could be adjudged to the blazing fire in the hearth, but Cersei knew that it was out of rage and embarrassment.
"How dare those savage idiots beat me like that? Thinking that they are worthy enough to fight me!"
The Queen almost rolled her eyes. Joffrey had always been exaggerative and dramatic, and this was no exception.
The Prince continued. "He even dared to have the nerve to insult me!"
Knowing that appeasing her son and going along with his rants were the best way to get him to calm, Cersei asked a question or two.
"Who insulted you? What did he say?"
An angry glint in his eye, Joffrey gestured wildly with his arms.
"That friend of the Stark boy, Robb. Looks almost like him."
"Was it Lord Stark's bastard? The Snow?"
Joffrey shook his head, pacing whilst looking at the floor deep in thought.
"No, no. The Starks are too honourable to have a bastard in my presence, besides, he wouldn't stand a chance against me anyway."
Another roll of the eyes from Cersei. Even though he was having a tantrum about being beaten by a peasant for all she knew, her son was still arrogant enough to boast of his fighting skills, of which she knew he had none. Of course, she would never admit that to him.
He'll become a strong golden lion in time, and a fine King.
A knock on the door alerted Cersei and Joffrey to the present.
"Yes?" The Queen asked to the guard on duty who had knocked.
"I have someone here to see the Prince. Says he's here to apologise for earlier about something."
Joffrey's eyes widened in realisation at who it was and called for the door to be opened.
In stepped a rather sheepish boy, the same age as Joffrey, two years from adulthood. Dark, thick hair, splayed out messily as if he had just woken from bed. However, it seemed like it couldn't be styled any differently, despite best efforts.
His hazel brown eyes looking upon both Cersei and Joffrey, his shaven face portrayed slight fear, yet humility.
Trying to remember his etiquette lessons, the Northerner bowed deeply, and with surprising fluid movement.
"Your Grace, my Prince. I hope I haven't intruded." The boy addressed.
Cersei cocked her head slightly in confusion and intrigue. She didn't expect this frankly brutish Northerner to be so articulate, nor have quite a Southern accent. There was almost no trace of Northern tones in his voice, and, take away the appearance, he could've been mistaken for someone born in the South, not a son of the North.
The Queen smiled that cold smile that she had perfected during her time ruling.
"No, of course not, my dear. May I ask your name?"
The boy coughed to clear his throat.
"Edward, of House Cassel, your Grace."
Another smile from Cersei.
"I assume your father is Ser Rodrick, Edward?"
Edward gave a small smile in mention of his father, but his brows creased in confusion.
"Yes, your Grace. Forgive me, but how do you know my father?"
"I'm afraid I don't know him personally. However, my husband the King talked of him a lot after knighting him during that godawful Greyjoy Rebellion."
Joffrey chose this moment to intervene on the conversation, his light blue eyes darkening in crude excitement.
"Isn't the youngest Greyjoy here, at Winterfell?"
Edward glanced at the Prince, before hesitating. He didn't really want to talk about Theon, more out of respect for him than dislike. He felt as if Joffrey would use the information to taunt Theon, and nothing made the Greyjoy more angry than that. He knew from experience.
"The Prince just asked you a question." Cersei shot towards Edward, her perfectly done eyebrows raising in slight annoyance.
Edward was shook out of his thoughts. The Queen made him feel quite uneasy, and he was struggling to hide his shaking hands.
"Y-Yes, my Prince, Theon resides here at Winterfell as Lord Stark's ward and squire."
"Is that what you Northerners call a hostage? A ward?" Cersei scoffed, incredulous at the phrase. A victorious smirk crossed her face, like a cat knowing it had caught the mouse.
"Well, your Grace, if you would like to discuss such matters over Theon, I would suggest you find Lord Stark and your husband when they return from the hunt."
The smile dropped almost instantly. Again cocking her head, as if calculating and measuring the young Cassel, she decided to change the subject.
"So then, Edward," Cersei pronounced his name slowly and with a little venom, as if verbally twisting a knife, "I believe you came here to issue an apology."
Nodding his head, Edward turned to Joffrey, who now beared a resentful look towards him.
Trying to choose his words carefully, as so not to incur the wrath of the Queen, or the Prince for that matter, Edward spoke, his articulate and deep tones showing much thought and emotion into his voice.
"My Prince, I would just like to apologise for my over-zealousness during the sword fight earlier. I shouldn't have been so harsh in my actions, considering that you have not been tutored in the art of swordplay as much as me, or Robb Stark. I hope that there will be no ill will between us, and that this can be forgotten."
Edward then offered his hand, in a show of respect and acceptance of his words. Often his father and Lord Stark had taught him that a handshake is much more forgiving and affirming than a bow or kneeling, since it showed a sense of equality between those at feud.
However, Joffrey looked almost shocked. Caught off-guard by the sincere apology and handshake, he was expecting for Edward to kneel and beg for his forgiveness. Instead, he offers his hand as if he were his equal? Who does he think he is?
Luckily, his mother noticed.
"Why are you not kneeling to your Prince?"
Cersei's green eyes glared daggers at Edward, who became visibly afraid at the sight and manner of the question.
Trying to gain his voice back from it being stuck in his throat from fear, Edward replied.
"F-Forgive me your Grace, but I-I was taught that a handshake is always a more sincere gesture of forgiveness, as it demonstrates a sense of equality and friendship, so that it does not differentiate between those in the wrong and not. In fact, my father-"
"I don't want to hear about your father," Cersei retorted sharply, her animalistic motherly nature coming to the fore, "You are being disrespectful to your future King, who is very much above you."
Joffrey, now smirking, knowing that he held the upper hand, despite the work being done by his mother, decided to once again show his bratty arrogance by boasting.
"You are not my equal. You don't even have a title, whereas I am the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not shake your hand. I want you to kneel, and then I might consider your pathetic apology."
If there was one moment which confirmed Edward's thoughts that Joffrey was not even remotely worthy of marrying Sansa, it was this. A cowardly boy who couldn't even swing a sword properly, who always ran behind his mother's skirts and then boasted and lorded his so-called authority over them when he had no reason to.
Looking over at the Queen, Edward noticed the expectant and almost impatient look in her eyes. He could tell, when it came to her children she was absolutely ruthless.
The tension could be cut through with a knife.
Turning his eyes back to Joffrey, and showing through them a glare of contempt, whilst giving a small, acknowledging smile, he got down onto one knee.
"Forgive me, my Prince."
Still smirking, Joffrey responded.
"Remember, you are not my equal."
Still kneeling, Edward looked up to Joffrey, whose eyes had darkened with power. He gestured for him to rise, which Edward gladly did. He answered the golden-haired Baratheon with a forced smile.
"Of course, my Prince."
You are below me, Joffrey.
Cersei spoke up again, her cold smile returning to her face, and the gleam in her eye replaced with disinterest.
"Thank you for the apology Edward."
A similar feign of interest appeared with the Cassel, who bowed deeply as before.
"Of course, your Grace. If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend. I believe Lord Stark and the King will return soon."
A nod from the Queen sent Edward out of the room. She then turned her attention to Joffrey.
"Go and find your uncle Jaime when he returns from the hunt. They should be back now."
As if on cue, the sound of hoofbeats from outside her window brought attention to the fact that the hunting party had returned.
Joffrey simply left the room to fulfill his mother's request. This left Cersei alone in her room. She got up from her seat next to the fire in the hearth and poured some wine.
As she drank, she thought about the Northern boy, Edward. He had a knack for the game. Clearly he could hide his true emotions and play well.
Interesting.
As soon as Edward left the room and entered into the Winterfell courtyard, he shakily let out the breath he had been holding.
The Queen unnerved him in so many ways. He couldn't help but be afraid at the thought of that cold smile with those glaring green eyes.
Thankfully a distraction was on hand.
The hunting party, consisting of the King and his soon to be Hand, Lord Stark, and most of the Kingsguard, rode through the Winterfell gates.
"Didn't know you were this eager to wait for them, cousin!"
Edward jumped, as Jory had surprised him with the remark.
"You really have to stop doing that." The younger Cassel retorted with a shove to the elder.
Jory simply laughed.
"Come. Lord Stark will want help with his horses."
After helping Lord Stark and King Robert with their horses, a huge deer that had been caught and killed during the hunt was to be used for the feast that night.
Edward was soon summoned to the Great Hall, along with his cousin Jory, which was being lit up with plenty of candles to give a warm glow to the room. Sitting at the great table, a goblet of wine each, sat Lord Stark, King Robert, and his father, Ser Rodrick, who seemed to be reminiscing of older times, and enjoying talking together.
Upon noticing the two, Eddard stood and addressed them.
"Ah, just the two I was looking for."
Both bowed to their lord, king, and family member.
"Edward, could you step forward please?" Lord Stark asked, gesturing with his hand for Edward to approach.
Edward kneeled.
"I'm at your service, my Lord."
"Rise, lad."
After doing so, Ned turned his head to look at Ser Rodrick, who nodded. He then turned his attention towards the younger Cassel.
"Your father here has said to me how much you've improved at swordplay."
"Yes, my Lord. I do try my hardest."
Ned smiled warmly.
"I've got no doubt of that, Edward. I've also seen how remarkably able you are with a sword. I haven't seen gifted footwork come that naturally since the days of your father. It must be a family trait."
Edward's cheeks reddened slightly at the compliment.
"Thank you my Lord, your praise means a lot."
Robert, who was again in a semi-drunken state, joined the conversation.
"C'mon Ned, fuckin' tell him already!"
Jory and Edward gave a small chuckle in response to Robert's language. Ned stepped down from the table and walked to stop in front of Edward.
Putting a firm hand on the young Cassel's shoulder, and cutting a fatherly figure, Ned spoke in a warm, almost informal manner, that Edward could've sworn he only used with his children and wife.
"Edward, I've seen you grow up from just a little boy here. I remember the day when Jory and your father were first teaching you how to swing a sword. You ended up giving Robb and Jon bruises all along their bodies."
Edward and Jory laughed, with Ned smiling that rare, fatherly smile.
"I've seen you grow up into a fine young man, Edward. You remind me a lot of your father, who I know is very proud of you. And I know that Jory definitely is as well. If anyone didn't know better, they'd say that you were one of mine."
"It's an honour to have grown up here, my Lord. I count myself very lucky to serve the Starks, and even more so to have them as my friends."
It was Ned's turn to give a small chuckle. Releasing his hand from Edward's shoulder, he continued.
"I know that you, Robb and Jon are very close. It seems a shame that you'll be leaving each other soon."
Edward's head dropped slightly. Jon leaving for the Night's Watch meant that it would just be him and Robb at Winterfell, whilst Sansa and Arya left with Ned for King's Landing.
"Although, I've also heard that you have quite the friendships with my daughters, Edward. Sansa has always spoken highly of you."
Immediately Edward's face blushed bright red, as he snapped his head up. Did Robb tell his father about the secret? Seven Hells, He wouldn't be allowed to look at Sansa again, let alone speak to her!
"About that, my Lord-" The young and frankly embarrassed Cassel tried to make an excuse, but was cut off by Ned.
"But don't think that I don't know about the sword lessons that Arya said you'd give her. I doubt you'd want to face the wrath of her mother if she had even more bruises to go with the ones she already has."
Edward froze. He didn't know? He made a mental note to thank the Old Gods for that ignorance.
"In my defence, my Lord, Lady Arya did insist."
Ned laughed.
"Yes, she is quite the stubborn one. But I have no quarrels against it. I think that you teaching her would be a benefit to her discipline, not to mention the fact that she looks up to you like a brother."
Edward smiled inside. Arya always was quite open hearted, even though she tried to hide it. She saw him and Jon as brothers even though they either weren't full-blood related or even related at all.
"But, my Lord, like you said, Lady Stark would have my head if she found out! Plus, Lady Arya is going with you and Lady Sansa to the capital…"
Ned smiled, although this was more of a smug smirk that tells you that they know something you don't. He glanced at Jory, who wore the same smirk on his face.
Edward's brow creased in confusion.
"What is it? Have I missed something?"
Jory spoke up behind him.
"You're in the history books, cousin."
Edward didn't understand the cryptic answer that Jory had just given him.
"I don't understand what you mean."
He turned his head to Lord Stark, whose face now wore his normal stoic gaze.
"Jory, Ser Rodrick and I have agreed that it is right that you come with me to King's Landing as part of my household guard whilst I serve the King."
Edward's face straightened in realisation. Hurriedly kneeling, he bowed his head in respect.
"I swear, by the Old Gods and the New, that I will not fail you, my Lord. I will protect you and yours with my life."
"I'm sure you will, Edward. You can rise now."
After doing so, Ned bowed his head to Edward, who returned the gesture, a now beaming smile across his face.
Jory came up to give his cousin a bear-like hug, which surprisingly was well received.
"Welcome, the youngest ever member of the Household Guard. How do you feel?" Jory asked, slightly teasingly.
Edward looked at his father, who gave a big smile towards him. He turned back to his cousin, a bigger grin on his features.
"Ready to serve, Captain."
After joining the Household Guard for Ned Stark, and becoming its youngest ever member at just 16, Edward decided to head towards the Godswood to thank the Old Gods. Most likely he would find Sansa there, as she always came to pray every day at this time.
Religion wasn't really Edward's forte, but he did remember to go and pray every now and then, normally for moments like this.
His head was buzzing from the excitement, in stark contrast (no pun intended) to that morning, where his head was buzzing with the pain of a hangover.
Arya is going to be so pleased!
Although he suspected Sansa would be excited for him too, she had other things to think about - ones that Edward didn't even want to remotely reflect on.
Besides, Arya had always appreciated him more, and now, once in King's Landing, she would be able to get those lessons she always wanted.
A thrill of nervous excitement shot down Edward's spine. Would he be even a good teacher? He didn't know that much about teaching swordplay, as most of his prowess came naturally.
I probably shouldn't doubt myself so much. If anything, I can find someone to help me train her.
As Edward passed the broken tower just outside of the Godswood, he was stirred from his thoughts when a flash of white and grey appeared from his right.
Summer? What is he doing here?
The presence of Summer normally meant Bran was around. But Edward couldn't find him anywhere.
He knelt down and stroked the pup's fur. They're growing up fast.
"Where's Bran? Are you lost, little one?"
The Cassel's question seemed to elicit a response from the direwolf, who started to whine and trot off towards the broken tower, as if he wanted the Northerner to follow.
Accepting the pup's silent request, Edward followed Summer. A small sliver of fear crept into his mind, making him wish he had brought his dagger or sword along, just in case.
Eventually, Edward came across the broken tower's base. At the very foot of it lay a boy, younger than him, no movement coming from him.
Edward's eyes widened fully in shock, his jaw going slack.
Oh Gods.
"Bran!"
He sprinted over to the little Lord's body, trying to find any sign of movement from him. Pure panic started to flood his system at the sight of Bran.
Putting his hand over his face, he eventually felt a very small whisper of breath coming from the young Stark. He was still alive. Edward let out a huge breath in relief, but he was still in danger of dying. He needed help, and fast.
Checking his body and head for any immediate wounds, which he found none of so far, Edward felt across his back. However, instead of any bloody wounds, the Cassel could feel that the lower half of Bran's back was clearly broken, judging by the irregular shape of his spine.
This brought more fear into his mind. Bran would die very soon if he didn't have help.
It seemed the Gods were on his side however. As he ran back to the track leading into the Godswood, he spotted someone.
"Sansa!"
"Sansa!"
Lady Catelyn shouted for her daughter as she walked through the Winterfell hallways. It was very unlike her to be late for getting prepared for a social event, or anything for that matter.
Coming back full circle into the Great Hall, where many were making the place ready for the feast with candles and other small decorations, she went up to her husband, who gave a defeated sigh.
"I can't find her, love. Have you checked the courtyard? Perhaps she is with Robb and Bran."
"I hardly doubt it, Ned. She could be praying in the Godswood, I'll go and find her."
Just as Lady Stark was about to leave, the subject of her worry almost sprinted into the hall, out of breath, her cheeks red from the physical exertion.
Both Lord and Lady Stark came to her immediately.
"Where were you, love?"
"You worried us sick!"
Sansa took a big gulp of air before speaking, her gesturing wildly to outside, a sense of panic on her delicate features.
"You need to bring help!"
Ned tensed. What was wrong?
"What's happened, Sansa?"
Sansa almost shouted her answer.
"Edward told me to run here and get help, he's at the broken tower!"
"Slow down love, is Edward ok? What has he done?"
Sansa looked into her father's eyes, the gleam of happiness gone from her own. Ned's spine shivered in fear as Sansa spoke, tears now falling down her porcelain face.
"He's found Bran father, he's really hurt. He says Bran's fallen from the tower!"
DUN-DUN-DUN.
This is it, the event that started it all. I hope I was able to get the fear and suspense right.
Again, I really want to say sorry for not uploading for a whole month. It's not acceptable, even if I have just moved into university, and I am so sorry. I will try much better from now on.
I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I'm sorry if I didn't get the characterisation right, especially for Cersei. Her character is so complex, it's hard to do sometimes.
But we have a lot of progress happening. Edward is now a member of Ned's household guard, and he has met/clashed with Cersei and Joffrey. Everything is starting to be set up.
There should be more Jon/Sansa/Robb etc. next chapter. I'm sorry for not including them as much as I should.
Thank you so much for staying by me with this wait. I know how hard it can be. Reviews and PM's are very welcome, I appreciate your input massively. You guys drive me forward.
Next chapter hint: Happiness turns to grief, and a now broken family divides itself more, as leaving becomes a bitter pill to swallow.
Love you all.
bobberoo98.
