I don't like leaving long A/N's on this account but I just need everyone to read this.
I love getting reviews. What writer doesn't? I try to use every review as inspiration or motivation to further my writing and fight to complete a story. I am a writer who tries to embrace all feedback so long as it is delivered with the intention of helping me improve something. As such, when I get reviews from guest accounts that simply say 'pls update' or 'love this, update soon' I am admittedly disappointed. However, despite that disappointment I am still grateful as they have taken the time and effort to read my fic and comment.
Still, it does not stop my frustration.
While working on this chapter, I received a review from a guest who called my character (Anya) 'Peggy sue' as 'she pretty much cannot do wrong. And it just boring'. This unexpectedly struck me deep in the core and I had lost all inspiration and motivation to continue working on this chapter. In fact, I felt as if I should stop writing all together. As I continued to wallow in this feeling, I pushed myself to accept that I was being sensitive and move on. This guest had not been rude with their review (I just want to emphasize this) but with that realization, I wanted to further figure out why it struck me so hard.
After reflecting on my feelings, and re-reading the review several times, I came to realize why.
Whoever this Guest was, sat through 9 CHAPTERS of my fic, and then had the energy to comment. If they had the time and the energy to make it that far, surely they would have had the time to elaborate. They most likely assumed their review would push me into either: changing my character, changing my plot, reconsider my talent as a writer or have me stop writing. If any of these are their reasons, they will be disappointed to know that, No. I will not be doing of that.
I never expected Winter Storm Queen to be so well received. Honestly, I would have completely forgotten about it for other stories if you all didn't express so much love for it. I don't know what I'm doing when I write TWSQ because it's entirely inspired by all of you who review, fave or follow.
It's been a long while since I've written this story for just me.
Which is why I only have one request of all of you readers.
If you are going to a leave a review, filled with hate or love either way doesn't matter to me, PLEASE ELABORATE AND SPECIFICALLY tell me what, why, when, where, how, and who you aren't agreeing with.
I want to improve as a writer, not only for myself, but for your reader satisfaction.
I know it's a selfish of me to request this, but it's the honest truth. I don't expect you to obey or follow my request, but I do want you to keep it in mind every time you read this fic or any other writer's work.
If you're not reviewing to help improve or express your love or hate for my writing, then please just don't comment at all.
I just wanted to get this off my chest.
*Phew*
Anyway...
I'm a couple hours behind, but here's the update I promised.
Not sure when I'll get the next update to you all, but I'll try to get it done by April.
Enjoy x
Chapter 11: Day 5: The Wild Wolf Way.
The sky had yet to lighten with the kiss of the early morning sun; Despite that, many were already awake in Winterfell. At her desk in her bed chamber, Anya worked through a pile of scrolls; quietly attempting to sneak in some early morning study. In the kitchens, Jaida Bailer worked the dough in her hands, rushing to bake the bread for the ladies morning fast. Elsewhere, still fighting off sleeps spell, young Dorrick yawned and readied to start his morning chores.
Out where the men had set up camp, not too far from the castle itself, Brandon Stark was unusually awake. Although, the rather unbecoming activity he was engaging in was most likely more to blame. The heated panting and moaning of the two could be heard throughout the camp. Those of the visiting men already awake, humorously japed about the loud sounds coming form the Stark heir's tent.
"Aaaah!"
"Gods, is murdering the poor wench?"
"Poor? Sounds like a fucking good time to me."
The loud grunting and moaning reached its peak, and was followed by silence. After a few seconds, the men broke out into loud whistling and obnoxious cheering. Evidently, without the presence of their noble ladies, the men had embraced their brutish personalities.
Brandon turned onto his back and arrogantly grinned with exhaustion. Beside him, Rana struggled to catch her breath. It was hot inside the tent and both were wet with sweat and other fluids. As the cheering outside faded, so did the afterglow. Rana sat up despite her tired aching body and looked at the male beside her.
"Satisfied m'lord?" she smirked.
Brandon looked up with a charming lopsided grin.
"Oh, very much so."
"Splendid, you know my fees."
Brandon blinked as Rana stood from his furs, still marked by his seed, and started to dress. He frowned and soon rose to stand as well. Despite the rather enjoyable fuck, Brandon had sought this particular whore for a reason. He couldn't let her leave before he got what he wanted. He pressed closely to her from behind and teased her.
"Sneaking from my tent again? Is every morning to end like so?"
Rana was no fool.
She knew the games of men and had been rightly suspicious of the Wild Wolf. Whores often traded secrets for bed traits of nobles and Brandon Stark was known for never fucking the same girl twice. The Stark heir was certainly talented with his prick, but Rana had years of experience in faking orgasms.
The little lady paid well for Rana's discretion. She would not let her mind grow weak because of the skill of Brandon Stark's sword. She would be a fool to ruin good business.
Even if he was the little lady's blood of kin, Rana would not say a word.
"Tell me….what do you do for my sister?" Brandon whispered in her ear.
Brandon's touch tightened and was just short of threatening. The low growl of his words spoken darkly with warning rather than seduction. Rana knew she needed to be careful, she did not wish to anger the Wild Wolf of the north. This wolf is a cruel creature, proven by the actions he took against poor Elya. She was running out of time to respond, when the flap of the tent flung wide. A harried servant girl burst into the tent and Rana took advantage of the interruption.
Brandon had an angry scowl on his lips, ready to yell. If it had been one of the men, he would not have cared to mind his words and would have ordered the fool out. He stopped himself short at realizing it was no man, but a servant girl. She was familiar to him, her name on the tip of his tongue.
"My Lord! I apologize for the intrusion!" she quickly addressed with her head bowed.
Brandon frowned at noticing how tightly she shut her eyes. It wasn't till Rana cleared her throat and announced her leave that he remembered his state of dress. He moved to pull on his small clothes and breeches, remembering just in time the whore's pay. He hadn't been able to get the information he wished from her, but she was still a good fuck.
"Now then…" he started as he circled the harried servant girl.
Despite her obvious rush, Brandon deliberately took his time. She was pretty, one of the prettier servant girls he'd come across. She still felt familiar to him, but no matter how he tried he couldn't recall her name. She opened her mouth to speak but was silenced with a single word from him. He couldn't help but smirk at the power he held against her. He noticed how she had yet to open her eyes and found it amusing.
"Do you find me that hideous to your sight?" he drawled with mockery.
He grinned at seeing her eyes fly open and her head shake quickly in denial. Only, once she noted his amusement, her eyes darkened. It was not dark with heated want, but with irritation, a first for Brandon to experience.
It interested him.
"Forgive me my lord, but I am here to report a matter of great importance!" she tightly pressed.
Brandon arched a brow and faked idle interest.
"Important? Indeed, it must be…" he mused as he reached for his tunic. As he did, he shamelessly flexed and smirked deviously while watching her.
Arrei inwardly screamed with irate annoyance but bit her tongue to restrain the crass words building on her tongue. She was not here to watch the blasted Wild Wolf shamelessly mock her. She came with a purpose and had a duty to fulfill. Arrei feared her Lord more than she feared the cruelty of this Wild Wolf. She had no time for his disgusting posturing.
She was rude with her next spoken words. If what she had to say had been anything else, she most definitely would have suffered for it. A small vindictive part of Arrei sneered with validation at seeing how Brandon's eyes widened in shock.
"Lyanna WHAT!" he snapped.
And so, what started as a rather pleasant morning turned sour.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Word among the help was steadily spreading. Brandon knew that the longer he took in finding Lyanna, the less control he would have over everything. It didn't take long for Arrei to lead him to the problem. There, in blatant sight for all to see, were the visiting Ladies wheel houses. Brandon grabbed Arrei by the arm and pulled her out of sight. He silenced her with a glare and listened to what was being said.
"How! Gods! Who could have-" "I WANT WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE CAUGHT!" "Oh! Gods, if word were to reach-" "Master! Master! We can't find-" "GET THE BUCKETS AND BRUSHES! NOW!" "Who would do such-" "The culprit should be punished with a beheading!" "If Lord Rickard-" "HURRY! QUICK! We must rush to clean before the little lady-" "Oh the little lady will stress-"
Brandon could only stare at the chaos with utter disbelief.
Surely, Walder must have been mistaken- Arrei must have heard wrong. Walder was a simpleton after all.
Lyanna couldn't possibly be the fool to do this.
The Stable Master was cursing to the heavens growing red faced as he demanded the horses be found. The stable boys bumbled and tripped as they hurried to find buckets and tools to start cleaning. The wheel houses for House Ryswell, Karstark, Umber and Manderly were smeared in horse shit; tied to the shaft tips were the pigs and their morning feed of rotten fruits and kitchen scraps.
Arrei pulled her arm free from his tight grip with a pained hiss. Brandon spared her not thought or care, too busy thinking of what would follow such chaos. It was no secret that the houses damaged by this- Prank! It must be a Prank- harbored tension towards his sisters. The visiting Ladies could take this as out right discrimination against their House! This could cost them several alliances! Gods! It could ignite a civil war among the Northern brethren!
Brandon may not pay much detail to the ongoing of politics between the North and South, but he was aware enough. Any sign of disrupt or weak relations could create an opportunity for the South to further oppress the North! More so than they already have!
GODS! Lyanna wouldn't possibly have been so FOOLISH!
From the corner of his eye, Brandon caught sight of dark hair sneaking about the barrels. The rage in his blood boiled over and he stalked quickly to the fleeing figure. Arrei trailed behind him looking frazzled and worried. The expression he wore was blistering with hot rage. He found her then, returning empty sacks back to the stables in breeches and his old tunic. The tunic was stained with black smears, but it was the satisfied smug grin his sister wore that truly woke his wrath.
"Lord Brandon-"
He ignored the servant girl and grabbed Lyanna by her arm. She gave a startled yelp as his hold was much too tight.
"Ah! Brandon stop you're hurting me!" Lyanna hissed.
He ignored her plea and pulled her where no one would see. He heard Arrei follow and close the stable storage room shut. She did not follow the siblings inside, but Brandon didn't have the temperament to be thankful. He stared at his recklessly foolish stupid little sister and near roared at her.
"Have you fucking lost your head, Lyanna!?"
"Wha-"
"Do you have any fucking idea what you've done!?"
"I-"
"DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING LIE TO ME!"
It was in this moment, Lyanna realized the truth of her situation. Brandon was not just angry… he was furious. Whatever vengeful anger Lyanna had been embracing over night fled instantly. She had never had Brandon be furious at her. The rage in his eyes, the snarl of his lips and the clenched state of his fists, scared her.
Brandon was fuming and he could barely control the anger roaring in his chest.
"Explain to me, just what the fuck you thought you were doing!?" he hissed.
Lyanna was wide eyed as she stared at him in shocked silence. Brandon could see how her eyes were full of fear and started to glisten. Instead of falling into tears, Lyanna stepped forward and tried to call up enough anger to match Brandon. Despite his rage, Brandon had expected her to fight him, she would not be Lyanna if she hadn't.
"They deserved it! Barbary and her vapid bitches had been asking for it since the day they came!"
Just because he expected it, did not mean Brandon would tolerate it. He was not his father, and he was no Ned. He was the first born son and Stark heir and he will remind his thoughtless little sister exactly who he was.
"Barbary Ryswell, Margaret Karstark, Lyea Manderly and Serra Umber are here as representatives of their NOBLE Houses! I don't fucking care if they asked for you to shit in their fucking hands! You don't vandalize their god damn wheel houses while they are here under our care. THEY ARE OUR FUCKING GUESTS!"
Brandon paused to take several breaths. The strain of his throat ached and he tried to remember that he was speaking to his little sister not some random servant. It took him a while to manage some form of calm, all the while Lyanna said nothing. He looked at her and saw how her head was bowed and she refused to look up.
"Look at me Lyanna."
It was not a request but an order.
Lyanna almost didn't listen, but when Brandon took a step forward she obeyed. He stared down at her with dark eyes, still full of rage but no longer blistering. Lyanna could feel her throat begin to clog and her eyes begin to itch but she stubbornly fought to meet Brandon's gaze.
"You are the first born Daughter of House Stark. You have a Responsibility to your people and your HOUSE. You are to be a lady-"
"BUT I'M NOT! I'M NOT A LADY! I'M TERRIBLE AT BEING-"
Brandon kicked at the walls in a fit of rage and pointed a stern finger at Lyanna's frightened gaze.
"Don't you fucking yell at me Lyanna. I am not Father! I am not Ned and you are no longer a child!"
He stared down at her and saw how the beginning of tears started to fall. He couldn't bring himself to care in the moment. Brandon loved his sisters, he would never dare raise a hand against them. Yet in this moment, Lyanna had truly tested his patience and limits. He could not believe she was capable of such blindness, and he was tempted to seek his father out and demand to know just what Lyanna had been learning. How could she not understand just how far the consequences of her silly prank would spread!?
"Not once have Father, Ned or I told you that you're dreams of being a knight are for naught. We've allowed you plenty of freedom and only expected ONE thing from you."
Lyanna opened her mouth to speak but Brandon couldn't stand to hear a word from her yet.
He was not done speaking and a simple glare had Lyanna shutting her mouth immediately.
"Anya will not always be there to save you. She is the second daughter and you are the first. She should not be doing all that she is, because you refuse to become what you must!"
The mention of Anya had Lyanna opening her mouth to speak but again Brandon shut her down with a fierce order.
"I'm NOT finished."
He forced himself to take another round of breaths. Only when he felt a little more in control, did he speak again. Lyanna was silently crying, too afraid to make a sound and risk Brandon's wrath growing worse.
"You and Anya are not twins. One day, all of the North and South will look to you as an example. You will be presented as Rickard Stark's noble daughter, Lady Lyanna Stark of House Stark from the North. Not Anya, but You because you are the Eldest. Daughter."
Lyanna had never felt such shame in her life. It was worse now as Brandon was no longer yelling at her, but talking calmly. The expression he wore stiff as cold marble but his eyes still blazed with rage.
"It is time for you to grow up and stop being such a naive little brat."
Brandon had nothing else to say to her.
It left the air between them heavy with tension. He was still angry, oh so angry, but there was nothing else he could possibly say that would benefit Lyanna. All he had were rage filled words intent on hurting and destroying whoever he targeted. He still loved Lyanna, she was his little sister always, but he could not forgive what she'd done. She needed to know just how greatly she'd fucked up, because clearly Father had not taught her as he'd done him. If he had, Lyanna wouldn't have been so stupid.
"Arrei," he called.
Arrei opened the door with her head bowed, awaiting his orders. Brandon didn't look away from Lyanna's crying face once. He wanted Lyanna to remember this feeling, this shame and hurt. He wanted to impress on her just how badly she'd screwed up and never forget. Lyanna needed to learn this lesson, and Brandon did not care if he was the one to do it, so long as she learned.
"You will tell me everything you've done in detail, right this instant."
With a few sniffles and a croaky voice, Lyanna confessed to everything she'd arranged to befall on Barbary and her company. The older brother in Brandon would have laughed and found it pure genius. Under different circumstances, he would have praised Lyanna for her creativity and sought a spot to watch it all unfold. In this moment, Brandon was not an older brother but the Stark Heir of Winterfell. He could not afford something of such great insult to be discovered and needed to fix it immediately.
When Lyanna had finished, a simple look had Arrei nodding and leaving to quickly dismantle Lyanna's chaos. Once again, Brandon and Lyanna were left alone. Lyanna looked up at him with red eyes and a wet face.
"I'm sorry Brandon…" she wept.
Brandon could hear the apology in her words, could see just how deeply she meant it. As much as he would like to forgive her, he would not. Lyanna needed to learn, and forgiving her so easily would teach her nothing. Instead, he shook his head slowly and continued to look down at her.
"Saying sorry doesn't fix anything. You've greatly disappointed me Lyanna. As the first born son and you the first born daughter, I expected better."
He saw how his words shattered what was left of her stubborn pride. He watched as her face shifted form apology to heart break. He forced himself not to give in and instead waited for her crying to lessen, patiently. Only when Lyanna had calmed, did he give her instructions.
"You will go and get cleaned. You will dress and return to the Ladies gathering and continue trying as you have so far."
"B-But what about-"
"Listen and do exactly as I say," he sternly spoke.
Lyanna bit her lip and nodded her head.
"Not a word to Anya of what you've done. Do you hear me!? You will stress her out more than she already is with this Ladies nonsense. Whatever you hear, whatever you see- you do not say anything about your involvement. If they ask you anything about it, speak the truth and tell them you were with me. If Anya asks, tell her I seek to speak with her sometime in the day."
Panic grew in Lyanna's eyes and she hastily spat out her words in panic.
"Bran you can't tell-"
"You should have thought about these things before you fucking did it then!" he snapped.
Lyanna shuts up immediately and Brandon inhales deeply before slowly releasing it in a heavy sigh. He can't look at her any longer. He has too much to do now and no time to waste on her foolishness.
"Just hurry up and go," he curtly huffed before turning and leaving himself.
He didn't look back at Lyanna, didn't turn at her sniffle and short sob.
Brandon had too much to do and so little time to waste for Lyanna's tears any longer.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Dorrick could barely bring himself to raise his head.
How could he have made such a mistake?
"Oi! Boy, DO you not SEE what you've DONE!" The stable Master roared.
Around them, the other stable boys and squires watched. There was no ignoring the roasting spectacle in the courtyard. Soon, the visiting ladies should be waking, Lady Anya's activities for the day was ruined due to the travesty of chaos before him.
Dorrick clenched his fists as his face turned red with humiliation and growing fear. There was no fixing this, he would be punished and blamed despite his innocence. Dorrick knew he was not at fault. He couldn't possibly be. Not when he had learnt the ways of his chores and duties since the time he could walk. He had been taught integrity and hard work by his late father- the previous stable master. Dorrick would never have made such a silly mistake that could result in a political upset.
"Just what in the gods were you thinking, Dorrick!?" The stable master stressed.
"But sir I-"
"Lord Brandon has come!" someone announced.
The building fear augmented into terror and Dorrick trembled in his boots.
He could not afford to lose this job, not when it was all he knew. Winterfell stables was his home, the only home he'd ever known. Dorrick had dreams, he had hopes of one day becoming a squire and then after a knight.
It couldn't possibly end like this!
The heavy weight of a less than assuring hand, caused him to jump and grow pale. He looked up with wide fearful eyes and saw the solemn expression on the stable Master's face.
"Go on Dorrick, get back there with the rest of em."
"Sir?"
Dorrick found himself confused as the Stable Master motioned for him to go stand with the others. When he still had not moved and Lord Brandon was making his way closer, the stable master practically shoved him towards the others.
"Stay there and keep him quiet," the Stable master ordered.
The other stable boys shared uncertain glances but obeyed and pulled Dorrick behind them. Lord Brandon walked onto the scene with a dark expression on his face and a blistering cold wrath in his eyes. He regarded the mess with quick appraisal before turning his intimidating glare on all of the help.
"Who stands to take responsibility for this!?" Lord Brandon growled.
It dawned on Dorrick then, what everyone else had already summarized. He gaped uselessly as the adults among the help kept their heads low or watched in pity and fear. The stable Master spared no one a glance as he stepped forward with his head deeply bowed.
"I take responsibility m'lord. The fault of this chaos lies with me. It is my duty to serve and maintain Winterfell's stables and I have failed my vows sworn to uphold this for House Stark."
"Nn-mmf"
The hand clamped firmly around his mouth and the grip of other hands kept him still and quiet. Dorrick tried to get himself free. He couldn't stand on the side lines and watch as the stable Master took responsibility for something he had not done. The stable Master had a bond with all the stable boys, and any young lad who worked the courtyard. He was a kindly man who despite his youth, many boys found fatherly admiration for. Just like Dorrick had.
"Shut up and stay still!" one of the stable boys hissed in his ear.
Dorrick looked up and saw the same panic and upset in the older boys face. None of the stable boys wished to see their Master punished or gone. They cared for their master too much, but their respect for him left them conflicted. In the end, they obeyed the last order their beloved master had given, and so kept Dorrick quiet and in place.
Brandon stared at the stable Master. He could see it in the man's eyes that he was well aware of what Brandon must do. This is the North, and rarely ever do you give another, second chances.
The North Remembers, and Brandon will never forget the unspoken assurance in the depths of the stable master's eyes. It was with heavy regret and guilt filled anger that Brandon spoke his next words.
"Then you know what will follow."
"Yes, my lord."
"Be sure to be gone before-"
"LORD BRANDON Please-"
"Shut up Dorrick!" a stable boy spat before grappling to silence the failing boy.
Brandon continued to speak and ignored the upset faces and flailing Dorrick. The sickening disgust he felt towards himself twisted his insides. The fury he felt towards Lyanna's stupidity dwindling into flinty embers by the cold in his heart. The adults among the help watching looked away with solemn acceptance in their eyes and for a few, anger.
He was Brandon Stark, Heir and future Lord to House Stark of the North.
The famed and renowned Wild Wolf of the North.
These were his people, and he their lord. Just as Brandon had a duty to them, they too had a duty to him.
With his orders given, the help scattered to quickly do as instructed. Dorrick's muffled protests faded as the other stable boys dragged him away. Brandon turned to the Stable Master who remained standing with his head bowed. He is aware of the subtle spying of the surrounding help who watch as they work. He spares them no care as he pulls the Stable Master up from his stance and embraces him as a young man would a fellow comrade.
"Gods forgive me for this unjust," Brandon prays for his hands are tied and this is the quickest and easiest solution.
"None of that m'lord. It is my honor to have served House Stark and a privilege to see how our late Lady's children have grown so mighty."
"What is your name sir?" Brandon requests as he pulls away.
The Stable Master looks to be near the same age as Brandon's own father. He is still sprite and muscled filled from years of labor. He was born into this life and aspired nothing more than to serve House Stark in all ways he could. He knew of his innocence, of all his boys innocence- but would gladly take the blame if it would stave off a political upset.
"Clatton Slynt, M'lord."
Clatton gave a wry grin as he introduced himself. A heavy weight had formed in his belly, but he ignored it for the pride filling his heart. Only later, when he can be lost to the crowd of the Northerners in Wintertown, will he let himself regret. Only then, will he let himself wallow in his loss of home and all he called family.
For now, he would loyally serve as he had promised when first encountering Lady Lyarra all those years ago.
When he'd finally gained his freedom from the other stable boys, Dorrick cried, as Clatton Slynt had long left Winterfell.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Arrei fell back against the west wing wall with relief. She had run the distance, desperate to ensure Lyanna's final trap was dismantled before being triggered. The feathers stuck to her skirts and the faint stink was nothing compared to the poor servants she'd ordered to help. Arrei may be young, but she was too closely involved with the Stark children to be ignored. She had the trust of Lord Rickard, and his trust was not an easy thing to gain.
She had just found her breath returning when she heard the confused cry of her name.
"Arrei?" Benjen questioned.
She blinked at his state of dress, initially dreading what it could mean. It was a few seconds before she remembered Lord Rickard's strict instructions for no one to interfere with what ever Benjen was planning.
"Lord Benjen!" she greeted.
"Why do you have chicken feathers stuck to you?" he innocently asked with a scrunched nose.
"An important matter was in need of my attendance. I assure you, it has been dealt with accordingly. Is there anything you need young Lord?"
"Hm… no- well actually…."
Arrei followed Benjen's gaze as he stared contemplatively at the feathers on her skirts.
"Do you need those?"
After the chaos of Lyanna's mess, Arrei was hesitant to give Benjen the feathers. She inwardly scolded herself for doing so and reminded herself of Lord Rickard's orders. Surely, Benjen would not do anything too outrageous if his father has him under close watch. Just as Benjen had plucked the last of the feathers stuck to her skirt, Brandon happened upon them.
"Only a boy of 5 years and already pulling at the skirts of our pretty maiden help. You impress me Baby brother!" Brandon teased with a mocking laugh.
"Gah! Braaan!" Benjen whined as the older boy pulled him into a rough embrace.
Over Benjen's distracted self, Brandon sent a conspiring glare at Arrei with inquiry which she responded to with a quick and subtle nod. Only then did Brandon release Benjen from his hold.
"What are you doing inside the castle anyway, Bran? I thought you weren't allowed because of the ladies thing!?"
"I am still a Stark, Benjen. They can't kick the heir out of his own home for a few ladies."
"I'm pretty sure that was part of the rules for the gathering," Benjen wryly pointed out.
Brandon rolled his eyes and ruffled Benjen's hair with amusement.
"Cheeky Brat," he huffed with a small smile.
When Benjen had calmed, Brandon took note of the chicken feathers in his hand. The wry smile on his lips twisted downwards into a dark frown. He'd already dealt with one stupid act from another of his younger siblings he did not want a repeat.
"What are you doing with those feathers!?" he near demanded.
Benjen shied away at the rough tone with confusion on his face. It was Arrei who answered for Benjen instead.
"Lord Rickard has gifted the little lord with a special task."
Brandon visibly eased before quirking a brow down at his little brother.
"A task? What is it?"
"Something just for me."
Brandon frowned at the way Benjen pointedly turned his nose up at him.
"and what is that supposed to mean?"
With an exaggerated smirk and mock, Benjen readied to run.
"It means not for you to know"
Benjen took off with a laugh leaving a baffled Brandon behind. When Brandon finally snapped out of it he bellowed down the corridors with laughter in his voice.
"YOU CHEEKY BRAT!"
As the laughter faded and the silence grew, Brandon's presence shifted from light hearty to dark and glowering. He looked at Arrei with a cold expression, it was the first time Arrei ever thought him to look similar to his Lord Father.
"Tell me," he orders and Arrei does.
"Your sister's prank has been dismantled my lord. There are no traces of her mess and those involved have been sworn to secrecy. They have pledged to the gods that no whispers will reach the ears of your father or sister Anya."
Arrei had specifically chosen the younger girls to help her clean Lyanna's mess. The few she knew to still harbor fantasies for the Wild Wolf despite the fate of Elya. They were quick gossips, assigned through out the castle. So long as the younger servants tempered the whispers, the little lady should not hear word.
She wouldn't bother telling the Wild Wolf how useless it was to hope Lord Rickard did not hear.
As the son of Rickard Stark, he should already expect the man to catch word of it.
Brandon slumped with relief at hearing Arrei's assurance. Now he only had one last thing to do and his involvement in things should be over. He took a deep breath and nodded to Arrei with gratitude.
"You have my thanks. Now, tell me, where will I find my sisters and their gathering of ladies."
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
As Arrei watched Brandon Stark further grow distant from her sight, a presence stepped out from the shadows and to her side.
They sidled up to the young maid with a widening grin. She had impressed them with her efficiency. Lord Stark had not been wrong about the girls potential. Still, the Wild Wolf was still green and all children had plenty more growing to do. Lord Stark wanted a Master spy to be made of this girl- one even they would be outdone by.
"A good start….. but still lacking," they whispered before stepping back out of sight.
Lord Stark had plans for his children, plans their Lady had warned him to make. They often wondered and worried over what their late Lady had seen. They wondered what Lord Stark had planned for. They know nothing but one truth….. Winter is coming and House Stark will be the last to stand and first prepared to fight.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Just as Arrei had said, Brandon found the Ladies to be gathered in the great Hall. He is not sure what the servant maid had done to stall the women for so long at fast but was grateful. Brandon chased all thoughts of the ongoing of the help and what had happened so far this morning. He readied his best smile and burst upon the scene.
The first thing his presence wrought were gasps of surprise and interest. Benjen had been right, Brandon had been given strict instructions not to impress himself among the ladies during their stay. This however, was one of many rules he'd just have to break for the day.
"Pardon my entry sweet Ladies, I do hope I am not ruining the taking of your meals."
He caught a quick glimpse of his sisters and saw how Lyanna kept her head down, while Anya started to frown through her eyes. He'd done his talking to Lyanna, he had nothing more to say to her for the day. He was more concerned on what Anya could possibly be thinking behind that dratted cold mask of hers.
"Oh not at all. Truly, Lord Brandon, you arrival could be classified as a delightful treat," Lyea Manderly teased with a flirty smile on her lips.
Brandon knew women, he prided himself in his self honed skills. It only took him seconds to read Lyea's intentions towards him and an even shorter amount of time to summarize her entirely. He gifted her a roguish grin that exposed enough of his teeth to seem wolfish. She flushed a rosy pink, fidgeted in her seat and loudly stabbed at her platter of fruit. As he expected, she was most likely no stranger to games among furs. How far she'd gone was the true question.
"Brandon."
The stern way his name was called had him turning immediately. For a brief second he truly had thought it to be father calling him. The tone used was a perfect imitation with the same amount of coldness and firm stressing.
"Is there something you need to inquire about?" Anya questioned.
The tone she spoke with had not lightened at all, instead it sounded anxious. Despite the sound of her voice, Anya's mask remained frosty and unmoved. An impressive display of control for a girl so young. Brandon only felt bitter at the sight. He knew he was not addressing his sweet little sister but the lady she was growing to become.
He shifted his stance and idly approached where she sat. He walked deliberately while continuing to fake relaxed intrigue over the food on the table. When he addressed Anya it was not as her brother, but as the Stark Heir.
"Indeed, I do. Arrei informed me of your plans for your Ladies gathering today. I came to offer you a better activity," he smiled charmingly at the word and caught the eye of Serra Umber.
"A 'better activicty', you say? My, how generous. Although, I do remember being told no man shall impress themselves among us during our stay." Jonelle Cerwyn tittered with a musing hum.
The grin she sent his way warned him of the craving for chaos she harbored. He carefully worded his answer and delivered it with practiced humility.
"You flatter me, Lady Cerwyn. I am still but a green boy, yet to see his first battle. To call me a man is more than complimentary."
A scoff from Lady Donella Hornwood has him turning to her. She stares at him with a pinched glare in her eyes and a disapproving frown tugging at her lips behind her goblet.
"Undoubtedly, and yet somehow the tales of the blood on your sword has spread so vastly."
Brandon grins as innocently as he can portray with just the right amount of charm. Evidently, he would not be making nice with Lady Hornwood any time soon. Before he can respond, another speaks in his defense.
"A skill so rarely praised. Perhaps, after this gathering before we leave, Lord Brandon would take kindly and display a few of his skills."
All three Stark children react to the words spoken. Brandon raised his brows, Anya visibly frowned as her eyes narrowed and Lyanna clenched her fists on her lap and glared with hatred. All eyes were on Barbary Ryswell who batted her eyes with innocence and placed a grape into her mouth.
Lady Mormont let out a cough, disrupting the stilted silence.
"Apologies, the thirst of my throat was hard to dispute," she smiled.
"Oh dear, I do think certain few of us have grown rather parched," Lady Cerwyn added with a frown while her eyes glittered.
"I apologize. I should have foreseen that the amount of refreshment present, was simply not enough to satisfy your itching desires."
The strange tension that had been building died an immediate death. Anya had not once looked away from Barbary as she had spoken. The cold, borderline threat in her tone was equivalent to a territorial wolf guarding against an intruder. To further the image, Lyanna had leaned forward at her little sister's side with a wide stretched grin that looked sharp.
"Nonsense, Anya. We can fix such travesty with ease, it'd only take a few moments to rectify the issue," Lyanna simpered.
None of them had missed the strange threatening emphasis the she-wolf had applied to the word 'rectify'. From her seat, Lady Cerwyn was practically glowing as she sliced into a peach and eagerly watched. Lady Mormont couldn't contain the grin on her face while Lady Hornwood hid her laughing smile behind her fan.
"How kind of you," Margaret Karstark smiled, while her eyes gleamed with strained frustration.
Barbary said nothing else and continued to eat as the Stark sisters called for more drinks to be brought. She did not see her sister Bethany, grow stiff in her seat, and clench her fists tightly in her skirts.
Brandon stared at his little sisters in surprise. They were both seated, dressed as proper young ladies and holding themselves in a respectful manner. Lyanna had followed his orders explicitly, and as such looked just as much a lady as Anya. He blinked as he struggled to make sense of what he'd just witnessed.
They were only girls of nine years, and yet for a second, Brandon had mistakenly envisioned them older. He could have sworn that his sister's were grown and seated on thrones, regal in dress; with crowns on both their heads. On Lyanna, a crown of winter blue roses and Anya, a crown of golden antlers with a silver wolf head bejeweled with blue gems for eyes.
It was only for a second…..
Brandon chased his confused thoughts from mind and focused on the moment at hand. He convinced himself that it had only been a trick of the light and nothing more. Years later, he would think back to this moment and call himself a fool.
He stretched his lips into a wide smile and let out his most convincing laugh.
"Such humor sweet sister. Still, as much as I enjoy being blessed by the gods with the beauty of all you ladies, I have yet to plead my case."
He turned to look at Anya and pointedly ignored how Lyanna fiddled with her cutlery.
"Just as you Ladies have planned activities for no man to see, we men have plans of our own."
Anya furrowed her brow in confusion but patiently waited for him to elaborate. He was aware that she was not the only one listening and knew he had to carefully perform his answer.
"Well, they grow restless Anya. They itch for more spars, so far I've kept them occupied with hunting but they wonder often after their Lord's daughters. They've yet to eye any of you ladies since arriving and it worries a man you know."
The clear, unimpressed tilt of Anya's head told him she was not entirely sold on his story. A little disappointing, but nothing he couldn't work with. It wasn't Anya he had to convince but the- as Lyanna liked to call them, vapid bitches.
"And so, I propose a compromise."
"Really, a compromise, you say," Anya flatly drawls.
The smile on Brandon's lips grows genuine. Anya does not believe him, she suspects him to be devious with his intentions. However, she is allowing him to do as he plans anyway. Brandon is suddenly hit with an odd sense of homesickness, having not realized just how deeply he'd missed his siblings. Anya had perfectly channeled Ned, back when they were young boys and Brandon had always tried to trick him into believing his outrageous stories.
He smiles wide and then proceeds to detail his suggestion. The gasps of excited interest from Lady's Manderly, Karstark and Umber are enough to inform him of his success. It takes a bit more of talking to have the Ryswell sisters and Lady Mormont agreeing. Eventually, all of the ladies have expressed some form of agreement, interest or vague acceptance.
All except for Anya and Lyanna themselves.
"You're proposing a performance of musical talent!?" The flat and blunt tone Anya speaks with is completely like Ned, that Brandon responds instinctively.
"Come now Anya, don't be such a bore."
Anya stares at him with a tired gleam, it's not till she turns to Lyanna, that he even remotely remembers why she'd not immediately agree. Lyanna is looking at the both of them wide eyed. It dawns on Brandon, that if Lyanna had run from her other lessons, it stands to reason she most likely did the same when it came to learning some form of music. He feels the anger from earlier return but swallows it down with great effort.
The choice is in Lyanna's hands and she stares at her siblings in panic.
She's saved from her panic by Lady Mormont's unexpected input.
"I don't hold much talent for song or instruments but my brother and our men have never cared before," she says with casualty.
Brandon notes the strange look traded between Lady Mormont and Anya, suspicious of the secrecy traded with the simple action. Then after, Lyanna darts a quick glance at Brandon and grows tense at the intent look he gives her. She looks at Lady Mormont who winks at her and relaxes before giving a short nod towards Anya.
"Well then, I suppose, since it's been well received by everyone there'd be no harm."
The Ladies break into whispered talk about their performances. While, Brandon tries not to get too caught up in the victory he feels. He begs off about taking leave and bids the ladies with exaggerated goodbyes and flattery. He'd only just started to make his way back to the tents when the cry of his name was called.
Lyanna stood before him with hesitance. He stared at her silently and did nothing.
"A-are…. Are you still mad at me?"
She looks young, he forces himself to remember such fact to be the truth. Lyanna is young and she made a mistake. She knew no better and simply had not thought. He defends her in his mind and attempts to reason with his temper.
Is he still mad?
He can not lie….
But he will not tell her.
He has already exposed her to his wrath. He has already ensured that she would learn from this mistake. He does not need to show her again, instead he will remind her. He will remind her of the risks and responsibilities she holds and can not afford to forget.
"Today, there was a disturbance in the courtyard. An incident so great it would have destroyed several of the alliances our House harbored with several others. It presented the risk of starting a civil war among the North and inviting the Southern to further impress themselves on our lands and traditions with their laws."
He saw how Lyanna's eyes grew wide. He stood tall and stretched his lips into a wide simpering smile. The smile he used when goading other House heir's into word games and anger. The smile his mother taught him to use as she showed him how pretty cruelty may look when hidden by kindness.
"I was alerted to this incident and immediately took action. Thankfully, by the grace of the gods the culprit admitted to his fault and accepted his punishment."
Lyanna's mouth dropped open in shock and she confusingly stammered out her words.
"W-what but w-who-"
"Ah, Clatton Slynt, he called himself. He told me of how he'd foolishly forgotten to properly lock the stables after a drunken night in the town. In such a state of frustration from years of working and still being nothing but a Stable Master, he drunkenly sought gratification by smearing the wheel houses of the visiting ladies."
Lyanna paled completely as Brandon finished the lie he'd spun with Clatton Slynt's consent. He leaned forward and widened his smile into one seeped with gratitude. It did nothing to hide the cold that blistered in the depths of his gaze.
"I should thank you Lya, if you had not told Arrei of you're discoveries it would have been much too late to rectify the situation."
Lyanna stood stiffly as her bottom lip trembled, Brandon deliberately stared into her wide eyes. He wanted her to forever remember and understand the lesson he was trying to teach. For if he found himself having to teach her again…. Brandon is unsure if he could do so kindly.
"I am the first born son and heir to House Stark. If word of the incident had spread or reached the visiting ladies, it would reflect horribly on our house. Despite how Clatton begged forgiveness and apologized, the insult of his mistake was too much to ignore. I had a responsibility to show that such silly and foolish mistakes would not be tolerated."
Brandon is many things….. but forgiving has never been one of them.
"What happened to him?" Lyanna quietly whispered.
He let his smile shift into a cold flat line and his eyes to frost with disappointment.
"He left without a home, a job, and honor. He thanked me, for honestly, if the crime had been discovered, our laws would have demanded his life and head."
"Lya?" Anya called with confusion.
Brandon straightened and smiled at the exiting ladies. Anya looked at him, then surveyed the expression Lyanna wore, before staring at him. She looked so confused but her eyes glinted with a hint of wary suspicion.
"Is there something wrong?"
He furrowed his brows with confusion and looked at Lyanna to answer. She swallowed but eventually obeyed his silent warning.
"Of course not, come on Anya, let's hurry and go practice. Bran was just being annoying again."
Lyanna huffed and rolled her eyes before stomping with as much grace as she had, to where Anya stood. Brandon dramatically pretended to be hurt, causing the watching ladies to giggle among each other.
"You certainly hurt my feelings Lya," he pouted.
Lyanna tossed her hair and stuck out her tongue quick enough not to be spotted. Only after she did, did Anya relax and stop watching the both of them intently. Brandon watched them leave, before disappearing Lyanna gave him one last look with glistening eyes of apology. Brandon only gave her a stern expression- looking so much like their father, Lyanna quickly turned away.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
They watched as the Wild Wolf returned to his men and shared his good news. They wheezed with laughter at how the men cheered and praised the Wild Wolf. As many pestered for the Wild Wolf to share with them his ways, they traveled through the shadows to where Lord Stark awaited them.
"Tell me," he orders.
"The little lady knows nothing, blind to her trust for her pack."
"hm…."
"She-wolf has been cowered by the Wild Wolf's ways. He did not spare his cruelty but minded her youth. Maiden spy did well to help the wild wolf cover his tracks and chase away the troublesome threat."
They watched as Lord Stark stared off in thought. The man showed no surprise, but there was a glint of relieved satisfaction on his face at hearing about the wild wolf. The silence stayed for several minutes before Lord Stark spoke again.
"How fares Benjen?"
They wheezed out loud laughter of amusement and impression.
"The little wolf has banned all from entering the glass house. The help have guarded the place as per his demands. A little wolf with a mighty howl deep within his tiny chest."
Lord Stark smiles with fondness at the mention of the little wolf. It fades and soon he turns to give them new orders.
"Have your eyes stretch to follow Clatton Slynt. Ensure he does not go far from Winterfell."
"As you say m'lord."
They step back into the shadows and whisper among the stone statues to the ever listening ears their new orders.
