A/N So this chapter is going to be longer than usual but that shouldn't matter too much. I actually really enjoyed this chapter, I wrote it after re-reading this part of the book so I was kind of in the 'GoT mood'. Moving swiftly on, there's a lot that crams into this chapter so bare with it. Hopefully you will enjoy! :) Please Read and review :)

Chapter 4

It was late afternoon and Maerad had finished up her chores for the day. It had been long and arduous work and she could feel the ache in her lower back as she walked down the corridor towards her chambers.

Her mind drifted to the night before as she walked, remembering the touch of Robb's hand on her shoulder and the electric heat that passed between them. At the time, Maerad had barely noticed, focusing more on the fact that her best friend was sat beside her, both silently comforting each other before the world that they took for granted was to be shattered by their guests.

She found it odd seeing him from a distance earlier that day. She was used to him with a bit of scruff along his jawline, but today he was clean-shaven. Also, she could not approach him like she usually did and talk to him in the same way. There were members of the royal party everywhere and Maerad knew how Catelyn would react if the royals heard rumours of the oldest Stark boy with a stable hand.

Maerad broke her reverie with a swift shake of her head and she turned onto the corridor that held her room and a few guest rooms.

She was immediately struck by a small man with golden hair. She recognised him instantly as Tyrion Lannister. Maerad inwardly sighed.

The last thing she needed today was a confrontation with the smart-mouthed, whippet of a man. It didn't help that he was a Lannister, but then again, nobody chooses their family.

Maerad recovered quickly and bowed politely to the man.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." Tyrion glanced at her curiously. He clearly was waiting to see if that was a reference to his height. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was a dwarf. Tyrion stared her down, as if challenging her to make an ill-mouthed quip. Maerad simply stared back, her face as neutral as possible. She honestly didn't care how tall he was.

Tyrion quickly gave up the staring contest, "Never mind, my dear. It was a blind corner and I am used to being trampled on by taller women."

Maerad had a feeling he was referring to his older sister, the Queen Cersei.

"Very well, then." Maerad stepped out of his way and proceeded down the hall. She felt his eyes on her as she walked. As she came to her door, she realised that he was still watching her. Maerad turned to face him.

"Is there something you wish to say?" Maerad bit back from making her question too harsh.

"I'm just curious, really." Tyrion started walking towards her, "A woman like you, how do you have a room in the guest wing of the castle?"

"And what do you mean by 'a woman like me'?" Maerad was losing her patience and could feel her back twitching for some rest.

"I mean that, and I'm just guessing by the smell of horse shit, you are a stablehand. I'm pretty sure that the other stablehands don't sleep in the guest wing. What makes you so special?" Tyrion gave her a once over, his eyes lingering a little too long at her breasts for her liking.

"It's none of your posh, Southern business." Maerad snapped.

"Oh, you're a feisty one!" Tyrion laughed, "Actually, I do recall stories of a young girl who had been taken in to the Stark family. But the rumours all said that she was far prettier than you. It couldn't be you, could it?"

Tyrion was fishing and Maerad was not about to take a bite.

"Mind you, maybe it's all that dirt from the stables that is covering that beautiful face of yours and I can't tell just how stunning you are."

"If you know who I am, then you also know my father."

"Oh, yes. The fearsome Jory Cassel. Best fighter that Winterfell has. I'm not scared of him. You clearly know who I am; therefore you must know my brother."

Maerad figured the only way to get rid of him was to win this game once and for all.

"I'm guessing he's the one with golden hair that doesn't smell of whores and ale." Maerad watched Tyrion's eyes light up, with what she couldn't tell.

"Seriously though," Maerad continued, "I know your brother. I also know that he earned his name by stabbing a man in the back. Strange really, I heard he was such an excellent fighter that surely he could stab a mad man without him having to turn away from the sword. Sounds like a coward to me." Maerad saw Tyrion open his mouth but continued over the top of him.

"As for you, you should get cleaned up. You are guests at Winterfell and I'm sure your fearsome, older brother wouldn't like it if I let you show up stinking like you do. That would be bad manners on my part." Maerad turned to open her door. Just as she stepped inside, she turned to face the gobsmacked Tyrion once again.

"Oh and about my father? You were wrong. He isn't the best fighter in Winterfell. I am. And I would remember that for if we ever meet again." Maerad slammed the door in his face.

Maerad got washed and ready for the feast alone, making her wonder why Ladies needed maids to do it for them. It wasn't as though they were so unintelligent that they couldn't use their hands properly. Maerad shook her head exasperatedly. Some things she would never understand about being a Lady.

Sansa had picked out what Maerad would be wearing to the feast. Maerad was bad when it came to dresses and anything fashionable and Sansa was happy to help. She had chosen a simple dress. Nothing too elegant, that might make it obvious where she got the dress from, but classy enough that Maerad felt completely uncomfortable wearing it. It was a slightly small fit, intended for Sansa to wear once she grew taller. It was a dark purple and fit to Maerad's curves. The dress was also not too grandiose so that Maerad still looked like a stablehand and not a Lady.

She made her way down to the Great Hall alone and took her place at the table next to the kitchen, next to Jon. He lifted his head lazily in recognition and gave her a half-smile. He was drunk. Maerad rolled her eyes at him.

The Great Hall was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. The banners of three Great Houses draped the walls: Lannister, Stark and Baratheon. The Stark children were seated on a table of their own with the princes and princess, below the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark accompanied the King and Queen. The room was filled with the chorus of hundreds of different conversations, most of them by drunken men.

Maerad idly ate her way through the meal until she was full and couldn't stand the sound of the squire's voices on her table. Jon was getting more and more drunk by the second, nobody could tell him to stop as no-one held the courage to tell the bastard son of Ned Stark to do anything.

By the fourth hour, Maerad was sick of the Great Hall and wanted to do nothing else but leave. However, she stayed to keep watch over Jon, worried that his intoxicated state would lead him to start throwing punches. He was joining in heartily with the conversations at their table but every now and then, he would look over to the Stark children. It was brief and to anyone else it would have been nothing more than a passing glance. But Maerad knew him better than that. She saw the distraught jealousy in his eyes. She knew that he wished to be sat with Robb and Arya more than anything. Maerad didn't blame him; she did too. But they had to know their place.

As Jon finished another glass, Maerad came to a conclusion. She leaned over to put her lips next to Jon's ear.

"Get out of the Hall, Jon." She turned away and carried on swirling around the liquid at the bottom of her glass. Jon looked over at her.

"Why should I?" His reply was barely audible over the roar of the Hall.

Maerad simply mouthed back, "You know why," and gestured towards the Stark table.

Jon gritted his teeth and nodded. He rose from the table and left the hall without another word.

Maerad suddenly felt a cold shiver pass through her as if a ghost had just walked by. She glanced towards the Stark's and saw the reason for her shiver. Catelyn was fixing her with a cold, calm glare. Maerad made a mental note to never get on the wrong side of Catelyn. Something told her that her bite was worse than her bark. Almost the instant that they locked eye contact, Catelyn looked away, and carried on as if nothing had happened. In her line of sight, Maerad saw Arya flick food at Sansa. Maerad rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself as Robb lifted Arya up easily and frogmarched her to her room.

Maerad watched the people in the Great Hall until her head started to spin. She took this as her signal to leave. As she made her way out of the Hall, she somehow caught eyes with Jaime Lannister. He smirked at her, giving her the same once over that his brother had just hours before. Maerad shuddered and quickly escaped before the Kingslayer could see her cheeks redden.

Maerad let her feet carry her, not concerned with where she ended up. She found herself at the pond in the Godswood. She sat down on the tree branch and took in the silence and beauty of the scenery. It was while she sat there that Maerad realised how much time she spent alone. She finally understood why. She was used to it. Silence was golden and the only true silence that Maerad could ever get was when she was alone. She found it peaceful. Maybe that's what her life should be like. She was a loner; and good at it. Maerad got so much more work done in the stables if she was left alone.

Maerad was unsure what this meant for her in the long term. She just knew that Ladies were rarely left alone and Maerad was pretty certain that she would hate that.

The next few days went by torturously. Maerad worked in the stables from dawn till dusk and even when the work was done, she would linger in the stables, talking idly to the horses. It granted her some strange looks from passers-by but she didn't care. She was in the stables when Bran was brought in by a rider. He was unconscious and all Maerad could remember was the way his body hung limply in Caine's arms. Looking back on it, Maerad mostly saw a blur but remembered having to sit down and watching uselessly as Caine carried Bran away to Maester Luwin.

Maester Luwin said that the good part was that he had lived. Whether or not he was going to walk again was another thing entirely. Just the thought of Bran being disabled made Maerad sick.

She could remember Bran's first steps, first words, and the first thing he ever climbed. Maerad had looked out for him since the day he was born as though he truly was a younger brother. Now, going to see him was heart-breaking. Lady Catelyn hadn't left his side in days. She slept in there and didn't leave even when people came to visit Bran and wanted to be alone. Maerad didn't like seeing her that way. As much tension as there was between them, seeing Catelyn's grief was just as bad as the idea of Bran never waking up.

The Starks were all subdued from that day on. Despite trying to talk, Robb and Maerad had nothing to talk about. Their walks were filled with awkward silences and were shorter than normal. However, one thing had changed. Every night since Bran's accident, Robb had visited her chambers and they had slept side by side. He was always gone before she woke up and was left questioning whether or not it had even happened but she knew that it had. Nothing happened between them, and neither wanted anything to happen between them. They simply wanted the comfort of each other.

It was a busy day; Jon had visited Maerad to let her know that he was going to be riding for the Wall. He was taking the Black. Maerad was happy for him. He finally knew what he wanted. He wasn't going to live in Robb's shadow anymore. News of Ned Stark had quickly spread around Winterfell. He was riding south to become the King's Hand. Maerad was unsure about this. With him gone, it meant that Robb had all of his father's responsibilities, which meant that she would see Robb a lot less. Sansa and Arya were going south too. She would miss them and had made them both a gift to say goodbye. It was going to be a lot quieter in Winterfell with so many people leaving.

As Maerad finished brushing Ned's horse, she saw her father, Jory approach. She grinned at him and he nodded back.

"Hey, Mae. I need to talk to you." Jory's tone was unexpected. She turned to face him and saw that he was wearing a grim expression.

"Ok. Let me just finish here." Maerad grabbed Ned's reigns and led him back into the stables. After putting the brush away, Maerad grabbed a damp rag and started scrubbing her hands.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"There's something that you need to know." Maerad raised an eyebrow. Jory took her expression as a cue to go on.

"When Lord Stark goes south to King's Landing, I will be going too."

Maerad couldn't believe it. Jory was captain of the guard for House Stark. Not just Ned.

"But what about us?"

"It's part of my duty to the Starks, Maerad. You need to understand that. I can't stay here all the time. Ned needs me in King's Landing."

"How selfish! What about Robb? Who's going to take over while you're gone?"

"It's not selfish. He wants me there to help protect Sansa and Arya. I thought you of all people would understand that." Jory's voice was raised now and Maerad knew that he was upset.

"I understand, Father. Really, I do." Maerad fixed him with a cold hard glare, "I just wished that you would put family first, after all, look at what happened to Mother." Maerad saw Jory flinch and his glare hardened. She had hit him hard.

"Nikolai is taking over from me." With that, Jory turned and stormed away, not even saying goodbye.

Maerad felt bad for what she said. She remembered what happened last time they had that argument.

"But Father can't Lord Stark take some other of the Guard? He doesn't need you does he?" Maerad buried her face in Jory's furs.

"Ned Stark wants to come home safely, that's all." Jory stroked Maerad's soft, brown hair gently. They were sat on Maerad's bed, Maerad curled up in Jory's lap.

"But what if the risk of him coming home safely is your life?" Jory was struck by how grown up that conclusion was. Maerad was only 8 years old. She didn't yet understand what duty meant to a man of the Guard.

"It's a risk I have to take. Besides, if I didn't go, who would protect Ned and get him back safely to Robb. I am the best fighter in Winterfell after all. You wouldn't want Robb to become a Lord now, at such a young age. You'd miss him."

"I'd miss you too, Father."

"Maerad, please try to understand."

Maerad pulled away from Jory and stood up opposite him, "I don't want to lose you. I already lost Mother. You left then too. If you hadn't gone then, she would still be alive."

"You think I don't know that!" Jory felt his anger rise uncontrollably. It was a cruel thing to say to a young girl but he couldn't help it. Maerad pushed his buttons as if she was a grown woman. Every day he looked into her eyes and saw the woman that he left behind.

Jory decided to remove himself from the situation to prevent any more damage.

"I have to go, Maerad and I am. The sooner you realise this, the better."

And with that, he was gone.

Nothing bad had happened when he left that time. But he was only gone for a week. This time he would be gone indefinitely and Maerad didn't know if she could handle losing another parent.

Maerad had stormed off soon after her confrontation with Jory, leaving Caine to deal with the horses. She found herself in the training yard with a sword in her hand. Not wooden this time. The yard was surprisingly empty and Maerad relished it.

She realised quickly that the sword she held was not from Winterfell. She looked dumbly down at the hilt. It was gold plated, a sign of wealth (Maerad's gut churned), and encrusted into the hilt was a lion's head. It was a Lannister sword. Maerad was glad that she was alone then as if anyone saw her using a Lannister sword, there would be definite consequences.

Maerad unsheathed the sword and walked slowly towards the dummy. With every step, she could feel her anger rise until the only thing left was to swing the sword. The sword was light but long and easy to handle. She lifted the sword to her right and threw her weight behind the strike.

Maerad carried on hitting the dummy for several minutes until her anger had completely subsided. Maerad felt a drop of sweat on her brow and wiped it away.

Clap, clap, clap. Maerad swivelled round to face whoever was clapping. Maerad suppressed her groan. Across the training yard, Jaime Lannister was walking slowly towards her, a cocky smile plastered on his face. The way he walked struck fear through her. It was positively predatory.

"Very well done, m'lady." Jaime stopped about a swords length away from her.

"I'm not a Lady. As I'm sure you can tell." Maerad gestured to her trousers.

Jaime Lannister laughed. His laugh was like velvet, soft and refined.

"No, of course not. Ladies don't wear trousers. Stablehands though…"

Maerad felt her heart jump. He knew who she was. Then why was he playing games?

"What do you want, Lannister?" She was fed up of playing polite to Lannister men.

"Oh, nothing much. My sword back for a start." Jaime indicated nonchalantly to the sword in Maerad's hand. Maerad raised an eyebrow.

Holding his gaze steady, she replied, "What about that sword on your belt? Did you steal that one?"

"Yes."

Maerad scoffed.

"From you." Maerad frowned and looked more closely. She realised with a start that it was, in fact, her sword.

"Where did you get that?"

Jaime waved it off.

"Does it matter?"

"If you've been going through the personal possessions of women you don't know, then yes, I think it does matter."

"Very well." Jaime turned and stalked away, "Keep my sword. You use it better anyway."

"Wait!" Maerad kicked herself inwardly. She didn't want that jackass to be around any longer, "Why would you give a stranger your sword? It's Valyrian steel. I'm just a stablehand."

Jaime sheathed her sword from his belt. He turned slowly and started walking back towards her. Before she knew it, Jaime was slamming his sword down on her skull. She pulled up the sword just in time to defend herself. She pushed the blade away from her forehead and swung at his knees. He dodged easily but Maerad was two steps ahead of him. As he backed away, she brought the sword up quickly and sung it twice more, one missing and the other being blocked by Jaime.

He wanted a fight and he was going to get one.

Maerad recovered well and blocked two more of Jaime's attacks. Maerad went to swing her blade again, Jaime prepared to block but Maerad faked the swing and instead slammed all of her body into Jaime knocking him onto the ground. She knocked the sword from his hand and grabbed the knife from her boot. She slammed it against his neck. She was extremely conscious of the fact that she was straddling him now but didn't show it.

"I yield." Jaime laughed. Maerad was confused. He was just beaten by a girl and he was laughing. Maerad got up quickly, not taking her eyes off of him for a second.

He stood up groggily and continued to laugh.

"The reason I let you keep my sword? That. Right there." Maerad must have looked confused as he carried on. "The man that made that sword said that he made that sword for the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms. I've fought a lot of men in my time, but never has any of them tricked me and end up straddling me on the floor with a knife against my throat. It wouldn't be right to keep the sword for the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms, away from the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms."

Jaime picked up Maerad's old sword and left, leaving behind a very baffled Maerad.