Disclaimer: Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.
Author's Note: I just couldn't resist. I kept thinking of a time where if Robb still lived and if Jon joined him, so I did it. I'll be keeping up with the other story rather slowly because there's so many possible routes I could go with it, but I just can't stop myself from thinking this out and I'm attached the OC I made. I hope you enjoy this one and if you don't know the other story I'm talking about then that's okay! This is something totally new and from a different yet popular perspective.
Skies, vast and blue, were not filled with many of the usual clouds for the day. The wind had a bit of a chill but it was not numbing, but lulling and sweet whenever it caressed the skin. That was usually the sign of an omen of the Stranger surveying the lands to find who he will kiss next whether they begged for it or not. The Starks, with an exception of a Snow, went along with their daily lives despite it. Eddard, mainly known as Ned, would not let the eerie feeling of the day stop him from his duties. He was a man of order, who only taken risks when necessary. Since there was nothing to bid him to leave his duties, he continued on despite how Catelyn's blue eyes would look out into the lands of her home with trepidation. The woman relied heavily on her intuition, and it was shaking her; speaking in forms of blood icing in her veins that something was ahead that she would come to dread.
Robb, young and carefree, would not be bothered neither. He, like his father, tackled problems head on usually with the thoughts of keeping in mind of the future and its obstacles. Since he was still rather young, his heart ruled him and tended to cloud his judgement, but he was on his way to something greater in the future. He continued to bear smiles and partake in group laughs with his brother as well as his good friend, and his father's ward, Theon. "Jon," He said with his lip turned upward in a rather taunting smile, "do you plan to keep your virginity forever?"
His brother, Jon, who was not trueborn as was he, looked more like a Stark than one could ever imagine. The boy with black and thick hair that curled as if it was impossible to be straight and his eyes, his eyes you would never believe were grey since upon sight they were so dark that you would believe they were black. His skin was fair and his body lean. That was the true essence of a Stark man.
Jon's lips parted to retort but he said nothing. It was known to most that women made him flustered and even speaking about them left a knot in his throat, but he could not stand his eldest brother's teasing. "No." He simply said, rather leaving it at that.
His brother merely quirked a brow, "Then why not go the brothel and rid yourself of it? Dear Brother, have fun and stop wasting time before you die as you are."
"Too many risks." Was Jon's reply as to what made Theon and Robb share a look with one another. "Where is Bran? He should be fixing his skill with the bow." He much rather change the topic, to shift the focus elsewhere. He did not want to talk about his virginity anymore.
"There you go," Theon went onto say, that smile of his borderline sinister, "always changin' the subjects, aren't ya?" With a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest. "What's to worry about Bran? He'll get himself right, but you, Jon, you can solve your problems in ten minutes."
"That's a short time." Robb commented, "Is that how long you last then, Theon?" In his own right, he was defending his brother as well as jesting Theon, who looked miffed by his best friend's taunt.
"You know better!" Theon barked, "I please the ladies first and get the pleasure for myself last."
"Of course." The Winterfell heir didn't seem all that sold, "I've just heard otherwise."
Jon smirked as the Greyjoy went rigid, his eyes slightly fixed between bulging out of their sockets and trying to keep their cool. "And who said that, Robb?"
Keeping the tension, Robb had remained quiet and his eyes looked around as if he was trying to remember the name. "It wouldn't be fair if I told." He went on to say, enjoying the way the way Theon was nearly going wild with desperation, wanting to hear the answer so badly and annoyed when Roob would not give it.
A young boy with a thick mop of brown hair and eyes the color of soil had come running through. The happiness in his face was swept away with distress had he tried to slip his way past through every single body that came in his way. He obliged them with apologies and excuses as he went, they let it go since the boy was well loved by everyone of the castle. He came to a stop, his shoulders rising up and down as he tried to catch his breath. "Bran?" Jon called him, "what brings you out here? Ready to fix your aim?"
The boy shook his head, his hands on his knees as he tried to refill his lungs. They were practically rattling from how hard he ran from inside the castle and to outside. When he finally felt able to speak, his head rose up and his eyes looking at the three of them. "Arya," he said as he let a few coughs escape him, "Arya is…" Sick? Unwell? He didn't know how to put it. "She just fell to the floor!"
"What?!" Robb, shocked and clearly worried, had furrowed his brows upon the news. "Did you tell Father and Mother? How about Maester Luwin?"
He nodded his head quickly. "They are with her now, but I wanted to tell you all."
"Thank you, Bran." The eldest Stark placed his large hand on the boy's shoulders, giving it a tight squeeze as he could see Jon's hurried steps to the castle. Jon and Arya were quite close and so he knew that Jon would want to be by Arya's side immediately.
As soon as they made their way inside their home, they knew that what Bran had told them struck true. The castle of Winterfell was usually the home of noise; the sound of children laughing and their feet quickly thumping down the halls in sound of pitter patters and the sound of conversations bouncing off the walls. Today, however, it was filled with such a suffocating silence. There was no merriment to be had or sights of smiles adorning the faces of those who lived and worked in the castle or even those who lived outside it. There were too many worried looks and rather grim eyes that had stared down at the floors as their minds were clouded and lost in thought. What could be done? That was on the minds of everyone. How could they save them? That was the second thought. Nobody had known what to do or how to heal the child. The Maester tried his best and the Septa knew nothing of the illness either.
What could be done?
Something had to be done.
A woman of beautiful woman with wrinkles of age that did not lessen her beauty sat beside the bed. Her dark auburn hair shifted ever so lightly with her movement, as her slender hand would let the knuckles brush over the sweaty skin of the child that laid so sickly in bed. Her blue eyes roamed over child sadly as she wondered how to break this fever that claimed her young. Her hands already made a prayer wheel to the Seven, asking the Gods to save her child.
"I do not know what ails Lady Arya but I know we must act fast." said Maester Luwin. He was short in stature and old with his head nearly bald save for the thin, straight grey hairs that clung to the sides and back of his head. His brown eyes were glossed with sadness as he felt useless. He was a healer and any healer that felt they could not save their patient, especially the child of the Lord they served, had felt like a failure. Eddard did not blame him or fault him in any way. He gave the Maester a sharp nod with a look in his eyes that said: 'You've done all you can.'
Catelyn felt her heart plummet to the pits of her stomach at the man's words as she grasped onto the small girl's hands. "How does not one soul know what ails her? How does this happen out the blue?" She question, her voice rather shaky. "Gods, please do not take her from me."
Jon, Theon, Robb, and Bran hurriedly entered the room as their little sister lied in bed. It was the most still they had ever seen her, their little wild girl. Her body was warm to touch that Catelyn felt like the girl's skin was aflame. Her pale countenance could even been seen by a man with no sight and beads of sweat formed on her brow and upper lip, streaming down whenever they pooled too much. Her eyes squeezing shut, her lips snarling with pain as she began to glisten due to her sweat. Arya's hair was wet from her sweat, making it look darker than it was.
"We will need to find a healer, that's all." Eddard effortlessly said since he felt Arya could be saved from the illness that claimed her. She was a Stark and Starks did not die from illnesses. They wouldn't let something they could fight claim them, he thought.
"You say it so simple as if that it could be easily done." His wife said, her voice taut. "Where would you find one that could do what Maester Luwin can't?"
He knew his wife was speaking from worry and his hands comfortably rested on her shoulders as the steel grey of his eyes looked down at his youngest daughter. "There are people who know more and they can be found, Cat. So rest your weary heart and give me if only just a little of that Tully hope of yours."
His words did bring a ghost of a smile on her lips. She gave a stiff nod, "As long as you do the Stark way and find an answer."
Jon then took a step forward, he knew he might be overstepping his bounds at the moment. In a way, he was invading the moment of Catelyn trying to soothe her sickly daughter by letting her know that she was not alone. A mother and a sick child was a time to tread lightly, but he hoped his words could give some form of comfort. He loved Arya, she was his little sister, and he enjoyed the fierceness that was she. "I'll do it." He volunteered, "I'll find a healer that can cure her."
Eddard raised his head and turned to his son with a gleam in his eyes that danced with surprise and hesitation. He could see that Jon was sure about it, and never could you douse the determination when he set his heart to something. "On your own?"
"On my own." He quickly answered. "Arya needs you both." He nodded, feeling right by his words. "She can do without me."
His eyes looked to Catelyn who seemed to be mulling over the fact. He knew his father's wife, Lady of Winterfell, never much cared for him. He had knew well of the undercurrents of her disguised disgust for him for he was a bastard, a child made of his father stepping out of the sacred bond and loving marriage between the two. How could he trust that she would entrust the life of her daughter on him? She would undoubtedly be against it, wouldn't she? Jon was prepared to be turned down, he figured it was coming, but the woman remained silent as she ran her hand across the girl's brow.
Robb looked to Jon and then at his father. He could not remain silent any longer, "I'll help."
Jon shook his head, "No, Robb, you stay. Let me go on my own."
It wasn't that Robb felt Jon was unable, that was the least of his thoughts, but he wanted to lessen the stress of the load. One person just searching all around for a healer with so many villages and places to go all around them? They could lessen the search if both of them went and split up whenever it was needed. He also did not want to sit and do nothing while his baby sister was ill. He would liked to help too.
"Both of you go." Catelyn finally spoke up, "Go so Arya can know peace and not who does what."
Her husband looked away at both boys and at his wife, who pressed Arya's small hand against her face. She wanted to be with her in peace and the boys were disrupting it despite how noble their cause was. "I'll entrust you both." He finally declared, "Do your best."
Jon did not argue and gave a nod. With one look at Arya, he said. "Hold on, little sister." His voice was barely audible, "I'll get you cured soon." He would, of that he was sure. A healer would be brought for the sake of this child.
. . .
The way her fingers, pale and slender, would gently snap the flower as if to hush it from a painful death. All things lived, she knew, and she did not enjoy taking any form of life despite how this very thing could save hundreds of people. The beautiful shrub would miss the flowers but it will grow new ones in their places. The Prince's Flower was what the flower was named, it was red with a purple tint and with fuzzy spires. This flower with such a name would help the ill of the village. Curiously, she brought it to her nose to inhale its natural scent and greeted with a natural smell and not a particular odor. Her cheeks puffed, quite disappointed at that, and placed in the woven basket so that she could collect more.
Across the field, a man watched as she picked up medicinal flowers during her walk. The woman appeared a few months ago at their small village and became a local healer due to the large number of the wounded and ill that resided here. He, Adney, had personally taken her to his father's clinic so that she could take on the job. She shared his home with his father to become his father's assistant and together, they would be a force of caring for the villagers. He had headed back to his work in the farming field when they began to talk of work, but never, not even once, could he stopped thinking about her. He hurriedly completed his work, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young woman before she left.
Everyone called her a mysterious beauty; her features were striking but none of the noble tales of golden hair or eyes of bright blue. No, she had black, straight hair that fell around her face. Her eyes were blue but a deeper color; they looked like rocky waters that would send men over aboard and filling their lung with water to drown them of life. There was nothing evil in her eyes though, they were warm and they sparkled like a star-glittered sky at night.
Adney had no interest nor skills in the field of medicine; he also had no tolerance for blood, and who would dare want a squeamish doctor? Over the course of the few months, she proved to be a knowledgeable and well-loved person throughout it. Amara, her name was, was thorough with her administrations and completely efficient. The way she spoke was with authority, but you could hear the caring quality to her voice that softened the effect. Though she was well-loved, she allowed no one to get close… except for the children, that is.
In all essence of the word did that woman blossom like a flower in spring under the children's attention, and they responded in kind. It was through them that Adney heard her laugh. He deemed it a lovely sound; with a light smokiness that entices the senses. He was enraptured with her from that moment, but she claimed herself as a traveling healer, and all he could do was admire her from afar. It would be an understatement to say that she was oblivious to Adney's appraisal as she completed the tasks before her.
As she sat under a tree, shielding herself of the sun that shined down quite comfortably, she thought of her existence. This was another day of her life of leaving home and what had she done differently. What changes had she made? The truth was… she only exceeded in becoming a healer and nothing more. She continued to live as she always had; she knew no other way. It felt like she just shirked off her responsibility of her people, left him to her brother, so that she could continue the life she had before the death of her father and betrothed.
After letting her brother be Prince of the realm, she decided to spend her time healing the sick. Once in while, she desired the life of a normal woman, but she had done little to accomplish this. Other than her patients and the children, she made no other close associations. Amara had not even visited her only remaining close relative.
She sat pulling leaves and flowers from the ground, reflecting on the last time she had seen her brother. They had gone to the waterfall she would take him to escape, splashing each other to have fun when he was just a tiny boy. As he had grown, she could tell he looked weary and anguished from the events of losing their father. Naran had not understood why the man that his sister would marry had killed their father. He could not understand why Qasar could do such a thing. Amara had to teach him of the treacherous, vile, and sometimes good world they lived in and leave the rest to her uncles to make sure he understood. It pained her to leave him but she knew there was no other reason for her to stay. He would be a good and just prince like their father, she knew it.
Without a second to waste on the past, her head tilted to the sky. Little time did she have to marvel in the simple of beauty of nature that did not revolve around plants. The ocean was much missed and so was the vast mountains of her home. It had been so long since she thought about it, and it made her heart ache so. With her basket full, the woman rose and dusted off her long attire to make her way to the clinic's lodgings.
In the distance, she had saw two peculiar men, men she never seen before. They rode with urgency to the village and she wondered what to make of them.