Bran looked on, Prince Tommen at his side, as his brothers sparred and hit at each other with swords. Robb and Jon were both drenched in sweat despite the chill in the air, their shirts stuck to their bodies. Robb struck at Jon but he ducked out of the way, countering as Robb narrowly missed the strike to his shoulder. They didn't train with live steel, and every time Bran had been stuck with the blunted sword he was reminded of why. It still hurts. The swords still leave dark bruises and torn shirts that his mother fussed over.
Robb and Jon continued to dance back and forth, a near-perfect match of skill. More evenly matched than Tommen and I, at the very least. Tommen, while kind and friendly, was nowhere near Bran when it came to swords. He could hardly hold his own, even when Bran held back and attempted to give him a fighting chance. It's no matter. He's kinder than Joffrey. He would not nearly be as gracious when losing
Tommen was a good sport, and Bran liked him all the better for it. He always made sure to compliment Bran's skill after a match and remained bright and cheery. Despite his lack of skill, Bran still enjoyed sparring with him. Tommen was good company and an eager learner, always asking for pointers and ways to better himself. He had markedly improved since his arrival. Perhaps I can continue in King's Landing, someone has to help the poor lad.
While Tommen didn't have a knack for swordplay, he was just as eager to explore Winterfell and the grounds as Bran was to show him. Tommen had promised to return the favor once they reached King's Landing and had already told him of the dragon skulls hidden beneath the keep.
King's Landing. They were to leave on the morrow, and Bran could hardly contain his excitement. He was eager to see the legendary knights of the Kingsguard, to perhaps meet Ser Barristan himself, and to see real knights compete in a tourney. He was disappointed to have to leave Ser Addam behind as he had enjoyed his time squiring under him and learning from someone so skilled, but Bran imagined that Alys needed him more than he did. Besides, Ser Addam had promised to help find him someone new to squire under.
Bran was also disappointed to discover that half his family would be remaining in Winterfell. Robb was to stay as the acting Lord of Winterfell, and Alys with him. Mother would be staying to teach Alysanne and guide her, and she had argued that Rickon was much too young to leave her side. Theon, of course, would be staying, and Jon had plans to head to the Wall with Uncle Benjen. At least I'll have Father and Sansa and Arya. I won't be completely alone, and Arya will still want to explore with me.
There would be no one to help them escape trouble, however. It had always been Alysanne covered for him and Arya when they weren't where they were supposed to be, mainly in lessons. Would that he could bring Alysanne with him, to show them around and cause trouble, but Winterfell was her home now too. And besides, surely she would come to visit Sansa and bring Ser Addam with her, and then things would be as they should be.
Jon gained the upper hand on Robb and used the flat of his blade to hit at the back of his legs and trip him. Robb landed on his back with a loud thump, and Bran heard feminine laughter coming from behind him.
Alysanne came and stood next to him, clapping at the display in front of her. Jon helped Robb up off the ground and Robb brushed the dirt off himself. "I'd like to see you beat Jon, Alys," Robb shouted.
Alysanne chuckled. "You know very well I couldn't. You've lasted much longer against him than I!"
Before any conversation could continue, Prince Joffrey interrupted, striding onto the yard with the Hound at his heels. "Stark! I believe you promised me another go," Joffrey said.
Joffrey stopped and turned to where he was standing with Alysanne. "Cousin," he said, a mocking edge to his voice. Alysanne only bowed down in deference. "Your grace," she replied.
Joffrey hardly spared him or Tommen a glance before he continued on his early path towards Robb. Bran watched as Robb's face hardened, and he wondered what he missed. He knew Joffrey was a right arse, but he didn't quite understand why Alysanne seemed so fearful of him.
Jon slinked off the field before he was noticed and came to stand on the other side of Alysanne, almost placing himself between her and Joffrey.
"I did, your grace," Robb bent down to grab the other training sword that Jon discarded.
"Live steel this time," Joffrey interjected. "We'll use real swords. Like men."
Robb looked over in their direction, eyes stopping on Alys, before looking back to Joffrey. "Agreed."
Bran watched as Ser Rodrick attempted to intervene, only to be backed down by the Hound, who insisted that Joffrey had his way as the Crown Prince. Alysanne grabbed Bran's arm and whispered to him. "Run and go get your father. Or Ser Addam. Quickly!"
Bran turned and did as he was bid. He sprinted away towards where he hoped his father would be at this time. If Robb hurts Joffrey he'll be punished, he thought. The stables. Father was there earlier speaking with Hullen. He made his way in that direction. He spotted the stables in the distance and pushed himself faster, nearly barreling over Arya in his hurry. He didn't stop to offer an explanation.
He approached the stables and didn't slow down; instead, he threw the doors open and looked around wildly and- thank the gods. His father stood talking with Hullen, looking at him with a bewildered look on his face. "Bran? What's the matter?" His father asked.
Bran took gulping breaths of air. "Robb and Joffrey. Using live steel. Training yard" was all he managed to get out.
His father rushed out of the stables, striding towards the direction from whence Bran had come. He trailed after his father, not seeing a need to run back when his father was so far ahead of him. He arrived to see Robb and Joffrey circling each other. Joffrey struck at Robb and Robb danced out of the way, feinting to his left.
"What is this?" his father bellowed out. Robb and Joffrey continued to spar, not hearing or perhaps ignoring his father.
His father's face grew red. Out of the corner of his eye, Bran saw the King approaching from the keep, Tommen following close behind. He must have run to fetch him as well.
"Robb!" This time Robb did turn around, and Joffrey stopped as well, putting on a pleasant face.
"Father, we were just-"
"Fighting with live steel," his father turned to Ser Rodrick. "Did you not think to stop this?"
Ser Rodrick dipped his head. "Apologies, my Lord. His grace insisted."
"Boy!" Joffrey whipped around at the King's shout, his face dropping. "What's this I hear? About you going against Ned's rules?"
Joffrey turned his attention to Tommen with hatred in his eyes. Tommen shrunk back, and Bran felt sorry for his friend. Perhaps I can help him avoid Joffrey for the rest of the day. There are still places I have yet to show him. Bran watched as his father and the King walked towards each other and Ser Rodrick, likely to get the truth of what happened.
Joffrey sauntered off with the Hound trailing after him before the King could call him forward. Robb walked toward Alysanne as she marched forward to meet him and Alysanne gripped him by the arm and dragged him away. Bran could only just hear her say, "What in the seven hells were you thinking," voice shrill and harsh. Bran looked around for Tommen but couldn't spot him anywhere. Bran frowned. Perhaps he had snuck off to avoid Joffrey.
Bran had no desire to stay in the yard and watch the fallout from Robb's foolishness. He should have refused. What would have happened had he injured Joffrey? What would have happened had Robb been injured? Maester Luwin told us that even seemingly simple wounds could fester and kill, and Robb could have been accused of treason had he injured Joffrey. Tommen had yet to reappear, and Arya was likely stuck inside with his mother or Septa Mordane, packing for their departure.
Bran headed off to find Ser Addam, deciding that he may as well make use of the time left he had in his service. Bran wandered the keep looking for him, taking care to sidestep busy servants carrying luggage for their departure tomorrow and the various lords who had remained after the wedding. There were maids carrying food to pack for the journey, guardsmen setting aside armour and swords, stablehands carrying horse tack to be mended or cleaned. Bran did his best to stay out of their way, not wanting to be a hindrance.
He eventually found Ser Addam exiting the smithy, holding out a new sword in front of him and examining it closely, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Ser Addam spotted him. "Bran! Come look at this, lad!" He motioned him over.
Bran approached him, eyeing the sword in his hand. It was a longsword, made of fine steel, the hilt wrapped in black leather. The pommel appeared to be made of silver with a piece of obsidian set in the middle. It was elegant in its simplicity, and Bran couldn't help but admire it. Ser Addam must have seen him eyeing the sword because he smiled and held it out to him. "Want a closer look?"
Bran nodded enthusiastically and Ser Addam handed it to him hilt first. He liked the way it felt in his hand. Heavy but well balanced, as Mikken's swords always were."Well? What do you think?" Ser Addam asked.
"It's a fine sword, it'll serve you well," Bran replied, offering the sword back to Ser Addam.
He refused to take it, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "It's not me it'll be serving. It's meant for you."
Bran's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Aye, you. I wasn't much older than you when I was given my first sword, and you've well earned it. Besides, I can't very well send you to Kings Landing unarmed," Ser Addam said.
Bran turned the sword over in his hands, staring down at it in awe. Ser Addam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come. This way." Ser Addam led him to a quiet corner of the keep. No one else was around aside from the straw dummy in front of him. "I thought you may like to test it," Ser Addam said.
"We're not supposed to spar with live steel, Robb got in trouble for it earlier," Bran replied.
"Ah! But we're not sparring. You're drilling, and I doubt our friend here will have any objections," Ser Addam gestured to the dummy.
Bran grinned, and Ser Addam began instructing him. He does not take it easy on him, for his final day. They spent the afternoon in that quiet corner, and Ser Addam drilled Bran in what felt like every technique he had taught him over the last few years. Advances and fades, lunges and passes and pivots; there wasn't anything that Ser Addam did not run through.
Bran remembered his first day training with Ser Addam. He had not been easy on him and had in fact done his best to drive Bran to exhaustion. He hadn't been starting from scratch, but neither had he trained with such an experienced knight as Ser Addam. Again and again and again they went that day until it felt as if every inch of Bran's body had been covered with bruises and his arms felt as though they were like to fall off.
By the time they finished Bran was panting, but happy all the same. He looked at Ser Addam with a grin on his face, and he returned it. "Perhaps by the time you return you'll be able to outlast me in the yard," Ser Addam said, ruffling his hair. Ser Addam took a seat on the ground against a wall and motioned for Bran to join him. He took a breath and grew serious. "You should know, Bran, that King's Landing is not what it seems."
Bran scrunched his eyebrows and laid his sword down in front of him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, that I do not give you that sword without reason. It was not safe when last I took Alysanne, and it will not be safe now. I hope you don't have need of it, but keep a close eye on your sisters. The Red Keep may be safe enough, but I know you well enough to know you'll venture outside of it. I only request that you use caution."
Bran nodded. "Thank you, Ser Addam. For the sword, for everything."
Ser Addam gave him another smile. "You're welcome, Bran." He lifts himself off his feet. "What will you name your sword?" He gave Bran his hand and helped him up.
Bran frowned. "I don't know. Perhaps something to match Summer's name?"
Ser Addam gave a slight smile. "A fine idea. I've one more task for you before I free you." He picked a belt and scabbard off the ground and handed it to Bran.
"What is it?" Bran asked, tying the belt around his waist and placing the sword in its sheath.
"Find Ser Jaime and send him my way. I have a favor to ask of him."
Bran gave him a nod and turned to do as he was bid. He once again wandered the keep, asking maids and guardsmen if they had seen Ser Jaime. He finally came across a stablehand, who pointed him in the direction of the First Keep. He headed that way and looked around the empty yard surrounding the First Keep and crypts. Surely he's not in the crypts. What reason would he have to be there?
He continued to look around, stopping and standing in the middle of the yard. He ruled out the Broken Tower, as it was much too unsteady for anyone to climb the stairs, and the entrance was blocked by debris. Unless Ser Jaime decided to scale the side, there was no way he was in there. He shouted down into the crypts but received no response aside from the echo of his own voice. The guardsmen outside the Guards Hall had made no mention of him when asked, and so that left the First Keep. He walked into the First Keep and looked around the first floor. No sign of him.
He was about to turn around and leave when he heard faint noises from the staircase. Why would he be up there? The First Keep hadn't been used in centuries, and Bran had been its most frequent visitor. He had once enjoyed climbing the outside walls and swinging from the gargoyles, but hadn't done so for quite some time now. The last time he had done so had ended in a scare, as he had almost fallen from a window ledge. He had almost gotten away with it but Ser Addam had been looking for him at the time and witnessed the whole event. His punishment for climbing against his mother's wishes had been mucking the stables for the next moon. Ser Addam had promised not to tell his mother if he kept his promise of not taking such risks when climbing.
Bran climbed the stairs and followed the faint voices to one of the rooms on the first floor. He entered and found Ser Jaime and- was that the queen? Bran was old enough by now to know just what exactly they were doing. He had seen Farlen's hounds at it, and he had heard Theon and the other boys brag about their numerous visits to Winter Town. He must have gasped, or made another noise because the Queen turned her head towards him and let out a small shriek.
"Jaime! Jaime stop! The boy!" Cersei pushed him off of her. Bran went to leave the room and run, but Jaime was quicker. He grabbed his shoulder and pushed him against the nearest wall, pressing his forearm against his throat. "He saw us! Jaime, he saw us!" Cersei's voice was shrill and frantic, her eyes wild as she tried her best to cover herself with her dress that had been on the floor.
Jaime tilted his head towards her. "I know that, calm yourself," Jaime said and looked back to Bran.
"I- Ser Addam sent me to fetch you. I won't say anything, I swear it!" Bran sputtered out. Jaime relaxed the pressure against his throat.
Jaime looked to Cersei again, still keeping Bran in place. "He won't say anything, Cersei."
Cersei looked back at him incredulously. "You believe him? Jaime, he saw us! You know what will happen if he opens his mouth."
"I believe him because if he does say anything, I'll have his sweet sisters gutted and his father's head placed on a spike." Bran paled and Jaime looked at him. "You hear that, boy? Think of what will happen if you tell anyone of this. No one will believe you, and I'll have you hung as a traitor for spewing such vile lies, and I'll have your father and sisters and your whole family butchered. "
Bran could only nod his head. He found his voice and did his best to convince the Queen. "I won't say anything I swear it. I didn't see anything, I only came to find Ser Jaime and nothing else. I swear I won't say anything, I swear it on my own head, just please leave my family alone," Bran pleaded.
Jaime pulled back, making a show of brushing off Bran's shoulders. "You see, sister? Nothing to worry about." He kept a hand on Bran's shoulder and gave him a shove towards the door. "You'd best leave before I change my mind. Alysanne seems fond of you, and I'd so hate to have to ensure your silence another way."
Bran all but ran out of the First Keep and towards the courtyard, his mind reeling with what he had seen and the subsequent threat. Ser Jaime was right, who would believe him? He would be passed off as a liar, and not even his father's friendship with the King would be able to save him. And Alys would hate him for lying about her father. Bran passed Ser Addam, who had been helping the stablehands unload a cart of hay, and told him that Ser Jaime would find him later.
He continued on into the Great Keep, letting his feet mindlessly carry him. What good would telling his father what he saw do, anyway? What could his father even do? If his father and the King even believed him, he would certainly kill the Queen and Ser Jaime. He didn't want them dead, and he would hate to be the reason that Alysanne also lost her father. He didn't like seeing her sad, and the last thing in the world he wanted was to be the reason she was upset. No, it would be best if he stayed quiet. He would honor his promise and forget he saw anything at all.
Bran found himself standing in Arya's open doorway, watching as she tried to get Nymeria to do as she commanded. "Bran!" he jumped, not having noticed Arya walking up to him. "What are you doing? Come here!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Come see what Jon gave me!" She pulled out a long, thin sword and continued talking. "It's called Needle! Jon had it made for me, but you can't tell anyone!"
"It's nice, Arya." He replied, still thinking about Ser Jaime and Cersei and the First Keep.
She looked at him, a confused look on her face before she spotted the sword strapped to his side. "What is that?" Bran looked around, before following her gaze to his sword.
He removed it from the sheath and held it out to her, hilt first. "Ser Addam gave it to me," he answered.
She grabbed it excitedly, spinning around and jabbing at invisible foes. Bran could only think about Ser Jaime making good on his promise, taking his sword and opening Arya's stomach, spilling Sansa's blood, placing his father's head on a spike, his mother and Robb and Rickon bloodied in the courtyard of Winterfell. Alysanne's betrayed face, directed at him. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.
He wished he could remain in Winterfell.