When they get to Winterfell, they're told Bran is still with the Maester and that both Lord and Lady Stark are with him. Robb and she barely share a look before they're running to and climbing the steps to the Great Keep, finding all of Lord Stark's children in the hallway.
"Robb!" Sansa is the first to come to them, throwing her arms around Robb's neck and hiding her sobs on his shoulder. Rickon is half a step behind, hugging Robb's legs and hiding his face on his side.
Robb puts an arm around Sansa and the other around Rickon, holding them close to him. Cerelle looks past them and sees Jon holding Arya, whose eyes are red, but with no tears to be seen.
"Are you both okay?" she asks, approaching them.
"Bran is going to be fine. He's going to wake up," Arya says immediately, not letting go of Jon's side.
"Of course." Cerelle nods and tries to get the image of Bran lying in the ground, motionless, out of her head.
So they wait, and they wait, and when Rickon runs out of tears and starts to nod off, they go to Arya's room because it's the closest to Bran's.
They let him lay on the bed, take off his boots and tuck him in and Cerelle sits by his side and runs her fingers through his hair when he starts to whimper. She keeps her hand there and looks around, to where Arya and Jon are sitting at the foot of the bed, at where Robb is holding Sansa close to the fire as she keeps trembling and crying silently, and realizes that somehow, with the howling of the direwolves in the background, constant and distant, she fits into this family.
Lord Stark comes into the room close to the night. By then, servants have come and gone with food and it remains mostly untouched in a table near the door.
"Children," he says, and accepts the hugs Arya and Sansa give him. He looks tired and weary, but he holds himself tall.
"What have they said about Bran?" Robb asks, standing up and coming closer.
"If he lasts the night, then the worse will be over." Sansa starts crying again then, and Arya buries herself against her father's side, holding him around the waist. Cerelle goes closer to Robb, holding his hand tight between hers.
Lord Stark then takes them all to the Godwoods to pray, and Cerelle lets Rickon whisper the things she's supposed to do to her, lets him guide her through their prayers.
The cold gets to her after a while, even with Rickon dozing off beside her, and the wolves haven't stopped crying since the moment Bran fell, and she's uncomfortable and her head feels like it's going to ache, but when she looks around to the Stark she's surrounded by, she sees the serene look in Lord Stark's face reflected in all of his present children. Even Sansa, who's a Tully in looks and ways, who wants to get out of the North and go down South, looks at home praying.
She excuses herself after a while, leaving with a last touch on Robb's shoulder to indicate her departure.
She's restless that night, and by the time the sun rises, she's wide awake, hasn't slept a wink and Robb still hasn't come to bed.
She rises and dresses herself, combs and braids her hair and makes her way to Bran's chambers, where only Lady Stark is. She has her hands in front of her mouth, still in the same clothes she was the day before.
"Lady Stark," she says to show her presence, and Catelyn barely looks at her for a moment. "Has Maester Luwin said anything?" she asks, coming closer and kneeling at the other side of the bed.
"He lasted the night. Now it's all day by day, still dangerous but not the worst," Catelyn whispers, her voice hoarse. Distantly, Cerelle can still hear the wolves.
"Would you allow me to join you in your prayers? I'm afraid for all my efforts, I still felt a little uncomfortable in the Godswoods." Catelyn looks at her, eyes bloodshot and crystalline, and nods.
They pray, and pray, and pray, and after an hour, they are joined by Sansa and Lord Stark.
"Where is your brother?" Cerelle asks, raising from her position to allow Sansa to come closer while Lord Stark goes to his wife.
"He went to his chambers."
"I shall go see him now, then. Lady Stark. I... Would you like for me to find you things to make a—?"
"A prayer wheel. Yes. Please." Lady Stark looks small from where she is under her husband's arms, defeated, and it feels odd to Cerelle, to see a woman that had seemed stronger than life like that.
Cerelle nods and takes her leave.
After making a list and finding someone to search for the materials and have them sent to Lady Stark, Cerelle goes to her chambers. She stops just outside, hand on the handle of the door, from where she hears sobs coming from inside. She opens the door at once, catching Robb siting in the edge of the bed, face buried in his hands as his shoulders shake with his sobs.
"Oh, love," she says, closing the door behind her and hurrying to sit at his side. She brings her arms to cradle him and Robb goes willingly, grasping her elbow on his hands as he cries against it, the side of his head nestled on her chest. "Oh, my love, it's going to be alright."
Cerelle shushes him, running her fingers through his auburn curls, placing little kisses to the crown of his head, whispering reassurances.
"Bran already lasted the night. He's going to pull through, you'll see. He's going to be alright."
"What if he never wakes? He's ten, Cerelle. He's—he's a baby. He's my baby brother." Robb says, his sobs chocking him. She leans against him, wrapping herself around him and rocking.
"Don't think like that. He's going to be just fine, Robb. Bran is strong, and he has all of us praying for him. The Gods wouldn't take him away from us like that."
"Why Bran? How? He was always so careful. Never slipped, never hesitated. He knew those rooftops better than anyone else, how could he have fallen?"
"I don't know," she says, mouth against his hair. "I don't know, Robb, but it happened, and now all we can do is pray and wait and trust Maester Luwin."
"He's just a boy, Cerelle."
"He is," she says, and thinks of her own brother, like she has been thinking the whole time, and the hole in her chest threatens to swallow her whole.
Bran lasts the day. He lasts the night, too, and the next day, and the next. Lady Star refuses to part from him, while Lord Stark keeps his word and starts to plan his leave for King's Landing.
Cerelle feels like she's stretched thin, running around, helping to plan for the things Lord Stark would need for his trip, spending time with her siblings before they leave, helping Arya and Sansa choose clothes that would suit the heat of King's Landing.
She looks after Rickon, too, and he trails after her, like her little shadow, and if he's not with her, he's with Robb, clutching his leg and making him promise he wouldn't leave too.
"Robb?" a voice calls in the middle of the night before the court leaves for King's Landing, the door to their room opening with a creak and letting in the light from the hallway.
"Rickon?" she hears Robb ask, sitting up and letting the cold air into the bed.
"I had a dream," Rickon says, still standing in the doorway. From the way the light is cast, he's shadowed, and Shaggydog is pitch black by his side.
Cerelle sits up too, and after a few tries manages to light a candle that allows her to see a little better.
"Do you mind?" Robb asks lowly, and she shakes her head before pulling away a little, to make room for Rickon in the bed between them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cerelle asks, patting the bed.
Rickon climbs into the bed while Shaggydog goes to lay down beside Grey Wind, gets under the covers and faces Robb. Cerelle rubs his back and feels him relax under her hand.
"I dream there was a wolf—big, and quiet. It had two smaller wolves with it. And then there was a lion, and it killed the wolf and took one pup while the other ran." Rickon sniffs, and Robb pulls him a little closer while he shoots Cerelle a look.
"It's just a bad dream, Rickon. It doesn't have to mean anything," she says, using the hand not on Rickon to tangle her fingers in Robb's hair. "Just sleep. Nothing bad is going to happen when you are here."
"Do you promise?"
"You have seen us fight. You think someone could sneak past us?" Robb pinches Rickon's side playfully, making the boy squirm and giggle.
"You think someone could sneak past Grey Wind and Shaggydog?" Cerelle tickles him too, naming the guards that are on patrol outside the Great Keep, the guards patrolling the yard, the walls, the gates, until she has named half of Winterfell and Rickon is breathless from laughter.
It takes a few minutes of back rubbing and humming, but Rickon falls asleep again.
"Disaster avoided," she whispers, turning around to blow the candle.
"Do you think his dream is odd?" Robb asks, taking her hand over Rickon's head.
"I think he's scared. I think he's heard tales about the Lannister all his life and it manifested his fears into dreams," she answers truthfully. "Dreams are dreams." She can't see Robb's face in the dark, but she can almost hear him thinking, and she tells him as much.
"I used to have dreams where I could fly, when I was a child. But not my body—it was like I was a crow flying over Winterfell. Jon, too, used to have them. And now I dream of Grey Wind running and laying down beside the fire."
She's quiet for a while before she speaks again.
"Starks come from the First Men. And the First Men lived alongside the Children for centuries. Maybe…I sound like Old Nan. We should speak of this when it's not the hour of ghosts. Rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
She tugs on one of his curls and tries to go back to sleep.
The morning comes busy, full of Rickon following her around, crying and burring himself on her chest, running after her siblings, making sure Arya is listening to her Septa.
"Jon's gift?" she says when she crosses Robb on her way to get a embroidery hoop Myrcella thinks she left behind. She means the cloak she and Robb had made for his brother, all in black, and that Robb was in charge of giving.
"Jon's gift," Robb says, turning around and going another way from where he was going. Cerelle chuckles after him. It was a chaotic morning, and it wasn't even midday.
Once the embroidery is safe in Myrcella's hand and she has said all her teary good bye's to Tommen and Myrcella and Arya and Sansa, it's Lalia's turn.
"I'm going to miss you, Your Grace," Lalia says, even if there is some resentment in her eyes, some betrayal. Lalia doesn't like King's Landing any more than Cerelle does, and she knows that this is a favor, a kindness she's doing to her.
"I'll miss you, too. You're my truest friend. I thank every god there is that I can trust you with this."
"You can always trust me. Always."
Cerelle holds her close in a hug. She's never been away from Lalia for long, but now. Now she doesn't know when she's going to see her next.
And then only Ser Aedan will be left from her old life.