DISCLAIMER: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. All intellectual rights belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin. I only own my OCs.

II

The Boy, The King, and the Bloody Bear

The walk from the kitchen to the Great Hall was not long, but it dragged in their silence, seldom interrupted by the laughter of the King's guests. Drunk people stumbled through the passages in their best clothes, and you could tell the Northerners from the Southerners just by the vibrant colors of their clothes, or the way the ladies did their hair. Even Benjen had made sure he wore his best pants, and that his cloak was clean, but his Lord Commander's granddaughter didn't seem to find her roughed appearance as she opened the doors from the back of the room and grimaced as the smell of food and spilled ale hit them in the face.

The pair scanned the crowd, looking for the Lord of Winterfell, and it was Benjen who found him first, standing by a column in the middle of the Hall, his eyes set on his family's table, where his Lady wife was making weak attempts at conversation with the Queen.

Odette stayed behind them, getting her first look at the Queen. She stood out from the multitude, that was certain, but not only because of her elaborate hairdo, rolled up in some intricate design that resembled bird's nests in both round shape and the color of hay, or her dress of gold with red straps that crossed over her prominent chest and went around her neck like a horse's reins, but because she seemed to be the only person who was not having fun. Her eyes were set on something in the crowd, the same way a falcon watches over a helpless rat in an open field. Odette followed her gaze to find a large man in a golden crown, groping a delighted maid with a full body and open cleavage, and she guessed that was the famous King Robert.

She felt something bitter rise within her throat, and her heart began pounding excessively hard inside her chest, her palms became damp with sweat, and she had to wipe them in her shirt. Even from a distance, she could hear his laughter, as if it was an echo in an empty castle.

Her attention was brought back to the conversation between the brothers when she heard Lord Stark ask his brother about the boy he'd beheaded, if he knew him. Both agreed it was probably a Wildling ambush, and Odette crossed her arms, tilting her head as if to better hear what they were saying, above the rest of the noise.

"But justice was served, wasn't it?" She grumbled, drawing both men's attention back to her. "Two rangers are missing and the other was executed for being afraid, but it's what the King would've wanted."

Before Lord Stark could speak, his eldest son Robb came with a big smile. "Uncle Benjen!"

"Robb boy, how are ye?"

Odette gave the two a forced smiled that was everything but polite. "I'll leave you to it."

"No, wait…" She only managed to take two steps away from the crowd when Lord Eddard grabbed her by the arm. "What is the matter with you?"

Feeling offended by his question, she half-concealed herself behind one of the pillars before she pulled her arm from his hold. As reckless as she was, she knew she could get an unwanted reputation if people saw her talking back to the Warden of the North. "Nothing, absolutely nothing, how could there be? The King's in town, the people rejoice, and deserters are being killed off like cattle. We must feast!"

"Deserters, what are you…" Eddard's face turned soft when he realized. "You're not angry because of the boy from the Night's Watch. Does this have anything to do with your parents? Or the Lord Commander? My brother did mention me he was encouraged to bring you a message…" Odette opened her mouth, but Lord Stark did not give her a chance to talk back. "Mind you, I have no interest in knowing what it was. It's a family matter and I will respect that. But I believe I have the right to know what's caused you to react in such a way."

She sighs, leaning against the pillar for support. She suddenly feels so tired she could lay down on the dirty floor and sleep through the entire feast unbothered. "Nothing…" She lies. She turns her head and catches another glimpse at the drunk King. "Everything. The boy, the King, the bloody bear…"

"Is he alright?" She gave him a confused look. "Your father I mean, I hope the news was not…"

She shifted her weight so her left side was leaning against the pillar, from that point she had a better view of the main table, where Sansa was speaking to the Queen. Coincidentally, her back was turned so she wouldn't have to look at King Robert. "Gods no, he's alive, far as I know. I guess we'll find out soon enough…"

"Your name day is soon," she barely nodded, focused on how grim Lady Catelyn suddenly looked. "You'll be turning, what? Seventeen?"

"Nineteen, actually."

Lord Stark had the decency to look sorry. "My apologies, when you have so many children, it's hard to keep up with the name days."

"You're not my father." She turned her head away from the main table and looks at him in the eye. Despite being significantly shorter than him, Lord Eddard noticed she seemed to hold herself like she was ten feet tall. Her dark eyes gleamed like bonfires under the light of the torch above them. "My father was a lovesick imbecile and my mother… He was a fool, and I've spent my entire life paying for his mistakes, even now I…" Her voice became smaller as she went, until it turned into a whisper, and lost into a breath of air.

Lord Stark straightened his back and put a comforting hand over her shoulder. "Now what, Odette?"

She fiddled with the waistband of her breeches, and suddenly the floor seemed to be more interesting than Lord Stark's face. The man in question sure began to fear for the worst. In the years he'd known Odette Mormont he'd never found her one to hold her tongue, so it worried him that she was clearly keeping something from him.

On her side, Odette was contemplating whether or not she should come clean to Eddard Stark. It was an awful time, to begin with, with the King in Winterfell. She knew the Lord as a just man, loyal and forgiving, but even with all those good qualities, she wasn't sure she could trust him with something that important.

Lucky for her, she wouldn't have to decide just yet. A man suddenly approached Lord Stark and his attention was away from her. She let out the air she didn't realize she'd been holding and crossed her arms to avoid rolling her thumbs. Instead, she faced the main table and lost herself in thought, letting Lord Stark forget about his questioning.

It was somewhat of a burden, knowing the things she did. One time she thought secrets held power, but she found it was more like holding the rope that kept a guillotine from your exposed neck. For her, it was always hard to keep secrets, to watch out for every word she said to keep the truth from rolling from her tongue, but she'd grown to be accustomed to lying. She'd go remarkable distances to keep herself alive.

Looking back at Lord Stark, she found him to be exchanging what seemed to be threatening whispers with a different man. This one held himself with his chin high in the air as if him being half a head taller than the Lord of Winterfell wasn't enough. He had an arrogant half-smile and his golden hair was cleanly brushed away from his face. She thought he was good-looking, in a way that it reminded her of the stories of loving princes and knights in shiny armors that Sansa would often ramble about, and how they were described as if they were flawless.

The ridiculous thought of a grown man looking pretty enough to be pulled from a child story's description made her chuckle. The usual sound drew the attention of both the Lord and the newcomer, and she covered her mouth with her hand and covered her laughter with a hardly believable cough. "My apologies, my Lord," she rectified herself. "If you'll excuse me…" She pointed at the path between the two men and didn't wait to be actually excused before the walked through, heading for a large cask of what she hoped was wine. She'd heard Lady Catelyn had given her blessing for the good wine to be served early during the night and soon replaced with the cheap one, saying by the time they'd make the switch everyone would be too drunk to notice.

She sniffed the inside, knowing it would've been too great to hope they'd served Firewine. She tasted it once before, during one of Lady Catelyn's name day celebration, a red so sweet and easy to drink she hadn't realized its punch until she woke the next morning, sleeping outside a bakery in a shady part of town. The one inside the cask wasn't even wine, but a half good Ale. She supposed it was for the best. The North wasn't known to have the best wines, but right now she just wanted to get really drunk and forget about the horrible day she'd had, so ale would do the trick.

Someone sat on the seat in front of her. "Pour me a cup of that."

She looked up to see the man who'd been talking to Lord Stark. He wasn't looking in her general direction, too busy glaring at the main table. "You're talking to me?" She had to ask since the man didn't seem to be even aware of her presence.

He turned his head with a slightly offended look taunting his handsome features. "D'you see any other servants at this table?"

She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around her cup. She fought the urge to throw the drink at his face but thought better of it. There was so much she could get away with before facing consequences, and she wouldn't be pushing her luck that early during the King's stay.

Instead of giving to her murderous urges, she reached for another empty cup and began pouring a drink. "I'm not a servant."

"Oh?" He frowned. "What are you then? I saw you talking to Lord Stark. Are you another one of his bastards? His whore?" His lips broke into a mocking smirk. "Both?"

She reminded herself that she was in a very public place and her sword was in the armory. Was it possible to commit murder using nothing but a block of cheese and a chicken's leg? She was eager to find out. "Ned can be many things but unfaithful isn't one of them," she looked at Lord Stark, who was exchanging words with his lady wife, who seemed way more calm in his presence. "he loves Catelyn."

That seemed to spark the man's curiosity for some reason, he rested his hands on the table as his full attention was now on the grim looking girl in front of him. "On a first name basis with the Lord of Winterfell, my, you got quite the nerve. What's your name, girl?"

She looked at him as if she expected him to be joking. "None of your business."

"Odette!" Someone called from one of the tables at the front and her head whipped in instinct to see Robb Stark, clean-shaven and looking angry about something from his place next to an amused Theon Greyjoy, also lacking facial hair, looking more groomed than Odette had ever seen him.

In front of her, the golden-haired man looked smug. "Quite the name, can't say I'm familiar with it."

"Can't say I care."

"You did not ask for mine."

She couldn't tell the reason he seemed so entertained, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of asking for his name, she raised the second cup of ale she'd poured and pushed it in his chest, softly enough so it wouldn't spill, but hard enough to surprise him. He grabbed with fast reflexes.

"No, I did not."

She walked away from the man and walked towards Robb and Theon, the former was giving nasty looks to the man behind her. Not wanting to poke that bear, she sat at the edge of the table —ignoring Sansa's scoff— blocking his view to the man and also allowing her to lean over to Theon's side and stealing a biscuit. It was still soft and warm, and she decided she'll want to have something to throw up in the morning rather than simply curse herself as she gagged her empty guts out. She'd been there many times, and it was not a pleasant experience.

"You summoned me, my lord." She said with a gleam of mockery in her eyes as she bit a piece of the biscuit, delighted to find it was every bit as fresh and buttery as it looked. "Did you talk to Benjen?" she asked with a full mouth, slightly checking to make sure the Septa Mondane wasn't looking.

"What were you doing?" He asked, making sure his hand was nowhere near her leg. She found his perfect manners amusing.

She put her cup in front of his face before she led it to her mouth. "I'm starving." She gulped down some ale to swallow the biscuit, which she later found was a little dry. "Spent the entire day chasing that beast through the Wolfswood."

"I meant talking to him."

"Ser pretty-face back there? Oh Robb, you know I only have eyes for you." She said with a dreamy voice and pinched his cheek. He slapped her hand away. "Besides, he was kind of a cunt." Odette decided as she went to give a long chug of the ale.

Theon leaned over with a grin. "Ser pretty-face is no other than the Kingslayer."

It was Robb's turn to laugh when her eyes opened in shock and she put the drink away, coughing out. Her face was red as she fought to get the spicy drink out of her lungs. "You're really not putting on a good show with the royal family." He eyed to his mother's side, watching Queen Cersei give the eldest ward a look of disapproval.

Not that his family was making a greater impression, because a moment later he heard his sister Sansa squeal. "Arya!" Her porcelain cheek was splattered with pigeon pie, and his littlest sister was laughing from her seat. He laughed even more at his sister's cries, her friend making a good effort to wipe her face clean. Between that, and Odette's muffled coughs, his night went much better than he expected.

But his mother would soon end his fun because she urged him with her big blue eyes to do something about Arya. He cut his laughter in an instant and went to grab his little sister, who was already making another projectile to land on Sansa's face, no doubt.

He took her from under her arms and lift her from her seat. "Time for bed." He commanded, and Arya only protested a little, before she saw the stern look on her mother's face. Robb whoever, gave her a resigned look as he let her fall on her feet, giving her a little push to lead the way. "You coming?" He asked Odette as the two of them passed her. "Lately she listens to you more than she does to me."

Arya nodded vehemently. "I do."

But Odette was too focused on her cup. "Go on, I need another drink."

So, ehem, happy GOT day! This chapter wasn't half ready, but the season premiere inspired me to finish it and publish it at once. So mind errors, please. I'm incredibly excited for the new season. I know it will be heartbreaking, but hey, if it goes wrong, we'll always have the damn books, if GRR moves his ass. I went back and put a disclaimer on the first chapter and will continue to do so and blah blah. As always, do let me know your theories for the future, and what did you think about Jaime's introduction! This is truly not the love-at-first-sight you might've expected, but I'll try to make it as believable as possible. Do comment on anything on my PM or drop a review, discuss GOT, the fic, anything! Lots of hugs, Nicole.