Chapter 12: The Fall
In the end Cassana chose one of her simple dresses, dark green in colour, with delicate white embroidery. It was one of the only dresses she could passably wear with silver. She didn't know if it was her dream, or her way of showing interest to Robb, but she had decided to wear his bracelet today. The added benefit, of course, was that it was easy to get into that dress on her own. Pride had caused her to send her former ladies scurrying and it was pride that stopped her from calling them, or anyone else, to aid her.
And so she had dressed herself alone, fixed her hair alone, breakfasted alone, and now she sat in her room alone.
The castle was considerably emptier with the men out hunting, taking their normal clamour with them, leaving the ladies with their slippered steps and soft voices that barely carried sound across a room. Her own chamber was growing duller by the minute, considerably smaller than her apartments back home, she had paced every inch of it twice and it was not yet noon. Her feet itched to walk further, she wanted to get to know the castle and observe just how much work she had ahead of herself improving things, but she did not want to face the girls.
Her self-imposed solitude was fast losing the minimal charms it had to begin with, but she would be damned if she let a little boredom interrupt her sulking.
A clamour outside piqued her curiosity too much to resist, she glided over to the window and peeked out of the thick glass. It was hard to get a clear look, but she could make out people carrying a stretcher. Oh. Her shoulders slumped, it was nothing more than the first hunting accident of the day. She very nearly turned away and dismissed the occurrence, but something stopped her.
You've got to make this place yours, know how to work them, show an interest.
A line from her talk with her mother the other day, now would be the perfect time to put it into play!
A chill settled over her before she had even turned the corner down the next corridor, but the sight of others walking towards her stopped her from doubling back to fetch her cloak. She settled for gritting her teeth against the cold, rigidly keeping herself from rubbing her arms for warmth. Blasted Northern temperatures. Not many people had noticed the new arrivals, if the emptiness in the hallways was anything to go by, probably because they had all actually been doing things to take their mind off of nothing.
The closer she got to the courtyard, the more noise she started to hear in the castle around her, and the more she heard the calls from outside.
"Help! We need the Maester here!"
Cassana quickened her steps, hoping to be the first there and take control over the situation, show these Northerners how capable she was.
She was indeed the first to appear in the courtyard, but the sight that met her eyes made her stumble briefly. The body on the stretcher was small, at least half the size of most of the men who had left for the hunting trip, and the face…the deathly pale face…
"Bran." The name left her lips in a whisper as she gazed at the ten year old lying still before her, the same age as Myrcella. She had to shake herself free of her shock quickly, the men who carried the boy were looking to her for guidance, almost looking relieved to have an authority figure before them.
"Quick, lay him here." Cassana instructed, pointing towards a nearby bench. She selected the youngest, and hopefully swiftest of them, singling him out with another point. "And you! Run and get the Maester, he won't hear your yelling through all this stone."
"Yes, my Lady." He didn't even so much as sketch a bow before running off, but Cassana would find a more appropriate time to drill proper manners into the people here.
"What happened?" Cassana addressed her question to the least flustered looking of the men.
"I do not know, Milady." He cast a concerned look back to the boy. "We found him on the ground, he was already unconscious when we reached him. A climbing accident, most likely."
"Why was no one watching him?" She snapped, too distracted to notice the change in title from what she was used to. "How is it he was allowed to climb so high as to do himself harm?"
"I do not know." The man spread his hands out helplessly. "The young Lord has never had any accidents before."
A frustrated sound, almost a growl, came from Cassana's throat. Foolish lax rules!
She smoothed the hair back from Bran's forehead, his skin was cold to the touch, his breathing shallow. Lying so still, he looked even younger than his ten years. A strange pang went through her heart as she gazed down at the boy, but she hardened herself against the brewing emotion.
"Where was he found?"
"By the North Tower, Milady."
"Send some men over there now, check the ground where he fell for signs of a struggle, check the tower structure, check inside the tower itself to see if there was anyone there."
"Yes, Milady!"
Having been given a task seemed to pull the men together, and they rushed back towards the gates, calling for more help as they went. One paused, hesitating in his step, and then came back towards Cassana.
"Did you want some of us to stay with you, Milady?"
Yes, Cassana thought.
"No." She said out loud. "But send riders after the hunting party, someone has to let Lord Stark know."
"He is just here, Maester."
Cassana turned to find the boy she had first sent off returning, Maester Luwin in tow, his chains clinking as he hurried over to Bran. He barely passed anyone else a glance, his world becoming narrowed down to the size of the ten year old boy lying prone before him.
"He fell from the North Tower." She told him.
"Yes, I am aware, my Lady." He snapped, not looking away as he gingerly checked Bran over.
Cassana was a little affronted at his abrupt manner, but that flare of annoyance dimmed slightly as she took in the way he cared for Bran. The worry in his eyes, the gentle way in which his hands assessed his injured charge, this man loved the little Stark boy. Cassana doubted very much that she or her siblings would have received such warm care from Maester Pycelle.
And so, she let his manner slide, trying to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth that came from swallowing her pride.
Finally done, the Maester stepped back and gestured for the messenger boy to come forward.
"Get some more men, take him to my chambers, gently."
"I didn't know if you would want him moved, or if it was better to keep him still." Cassana watched Bran's chest rise and fall in shallow, irregular, breaths. "I didn't want to cause any more hurt."
"You did well." Maester Luwin gave her a measured look, and Cassana couldn't quite make out the emotion in the depths of that gaze. But eventually, he nodded, and turned his gaze back to Bran. "Thank you."
Things all passed in rather a blur after that.
Bran was whisked away to the Maester's chambers, he refused to allow anyone else into the room, even the grieving Catelyn Stark. The woman paced and paced outside of the room, glancing constantly at the door with a wild look in her eye, fear for her child carved in deep lines all over her face. Cassana tried once to approach her, but the older woman seemed to look straight through her, so she had decided to back down and leave the worried mother to her pacing.
Her own mother found her shortly after that, wondering what all the commotion was.
"What is going on? I hear they have sent riders out to fetch back the hunters."
"Bran Stark fell from the tower, he is being looked after by the Maester now." Cassana found herself fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist. "I tried to speak to Lady Stark, but she seemed solely focused on the Maester's door."
"When you are a mother, you will understand that worry." Cersei touched a gentle hand to Cassana's cheek. "A shame, your brother was so looking forward to the hunt."
Cassana could only gape at her mother in shock. A boy lay within the castle walls, possibly drawing his final breaths, and all her mother could think about was Joffrey's day being spoiled? In that moment Cassana hated Joffrey just a little bit more.
~/*0*\~
The Starks and Jon were the first to gallop into the courtyard of Winterfell, Robb throwing himself from the saddle even before his horse drew full rein. He and Jon were dashing through the halls to the Maester's chamber, their father only steps behind them, castle inhabitants flattening themselves against the wall to make way for the charging men. He could hear his father breathing a little heavier than Jon and himself, his body no longer used to mad dashes, but he kept pace with his sons nevertheless. Concern for his child burning in his eyes.
Outside the chamber the rest of their family waited.
His mother scarcely even gave Jon the second glance that she normally would have, she barely seemed able to focus on anything at all, but she threw herself into her husband's arms the moment he was close enough.
"He fell, he was climbing, he fell. I knew this would happen one day. I told him not to climb. I told him. He fell, Ned, Maester Luwin won't allow me inside. Our boy is in there. He fell." Catelyn Stark's rambles slowly gave way to sobs that she buried against her husband's chest.
"Hush, Cat, hush." Eddard stroked his wife's hair soothingly, his calm words belying the intent stare he gave the door they stood before. "All will be well."
Robb went to his younger siblings, who stood in a shell shocked huddle together, for once no arguments were taking place between his sisters. Arya hurled herself into Jon's embrace, shoulders shaking with sobs that she did not want the world to see. He held her close, murmuring words of comfort, anguish twisting his face.
Littlest sister in good hands, Robb made his way to Sansa and Rickon. His youngest brother was clinging tightly to Sansa's skirts, and she was letting him, one hand fidgeting with her dress while the other brushed his curls. Rickon left her skirts and attached himself to Robb's leg as soon as he was within range, Robb's hand replaced Sansa's in the boy's curls, while his other arm went around his sister's shoulders. Sansa leaned into his chest, body held rigid as she fought desperately for control.
That stiffness made him think of Cassana. As if his thoughts had summoned her, his wife appeared at the end of the corridor, soft steps making no noise as she came towards him.
"I heard you were back, I thought you would come straight here."
Robb wanted to reach out to her, but his hands were full of his siblings, so he settled for giving her a tight smile.
She stood close, looking a touch awkward, but remaining nonetheless. He would have to remember to thank her for that later.
A short while later the door opened just enough for Maester Luwin to slip out, before closing again. No one had been able to glimpse Bran, and Catelyn looked almost ready to push past the Maester to get to her son. The old man held up a placating hand before anyone could do more than open their mouths.
"I believe the boy will live." He announced.
"Is he awake, can I go to him?" Cat asked urgently.
"He is still sleeping." The Maester's face washed over with brief sadness, before he schooled himself once more. "I have done all I can for him. I cannot say when or if he will wake, that is up to the gods, but he will live."
"Can I go to him?"
"Yes, my Lady." Maester Luwin bowed and moved out of the way.
The rest of the Starks took that as permission for them to enter as well, following in after her to make a circle around Bran's sickbed.
He looks so small.
Robb's throat grew thick as he looked down at his little brother, so still, he truly could have been sleeping. Behind him he could hear the Maester whispering softly to his father.
"Even if he wakes, he will never walk again. I did what I could, but his legs are beyond repair."
"Wake up, Bran. Please wake up."
The plea came from Arya, who stood close to her brother's head. She looked as though she yearned to reach out, but was too afraid to touch him, so fragile did he look.
Small, choked, sobs came from Sansa. Unable to keep them in now that she saw Bran with her own eyes.
"Don't cry, Sansa." Rickon tugged on her sleeve. "Please don't cry."
Robb had never seen his family in such a state, it broke his heart.
He suddenly noticed that Cassana had not followed them into the room. Making a soft apology to his father, he went back to the hallway, finding her leaning against the wall with her eyes closed and hands clenched in her skirts.
"Cassana?"
Her eyes snapped open at her name, body moving smoothly away from the wall at the same time.
"I did not want to intrude, it seemed a family matter. How is he? Robb?"
She must have noticed him beginning to crumple, for she cut off her words and reached a cautious hand towards him. Concern looked strange on her face, as if the expression didn't belong there, but there it was. For him.
Away from his family, away from having to be the strong eldest son, he felt something give way inside of him. Before he knew what was happening he had buried his face in her golden hair, gritting his teeth against his own sobs. She stiffened in his arms for a moment, but then relaxed only a hairsbreadth, arms going around him in an embrace that just touched. It wasn't much, but he knew that it was all that she could give, and for now he would take that.
He didn't know how long they stood there together, but they broke apart when the door opened once again. Cassana stepped a pace back from him, public mask sliding into place, he missed the warmth of her.
His family filed out, all save his mother, and all save his father had red rimmed eyes.
"There is naught we can do now." Ned said gruffly. "Your mother will stay with him."
Robb nodded his understanding, and after a few moments of standing together the family began to disperse. Arya trailing after Jon, Rickon sticking to his father, with Sansa following behind. Before long it was just he and Cassana alone in the hallway again. Now that there were no others present, she came a little closer to him once more.
"Do you want to go to our rooms?"
He nodded once more, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and began making his way to their chambers. Cassana walked at his side, her skirts making a soft whisk whisk, the only sound beyond the soft murmurs of sympathy from passersby. After some time he heard her take a deep breath, and then she reached out to take his arm. She was tense, and still maintained a slight distance between them, but she remained linked with him for the entirety of the journey.
Once they reached their rooms she left his side again, moving to the table where a pitcher of wine and some cups stood, pouring one for each of them and bringing him his. Taking a slow sip, he noticed the curtains that surrounded their bed were hanging loose on one side.
"Did we do that?" he fingered the torn edge of the curtain. "I don't recall."
"We must have." Cassana replied evenly.
Robb looked questioningly between her and the curtain, unable to help the eyebrows that raised. For her part she matched his gaze, chin lifting just slightly, daring him to challenge her.
He let the matter slide, sitting down heavily on the bed and staring into his wine cup, as if all the answers could be found in the red depths.
"Do you wish to talk about it?"
He raised his eyes to his wife, his cooly distant wife, who stood now within arms reach with a frown creasing her brow. It could be concern once more, it could be confusion at what to do, Robb truly wasn't sure which.
"No." He swallowed thickly, the beginnings of tears blurring his vision, ripples moving through his wine where they dripped into his cup.
Bran, gods help me, he is so young.
He heard another deep breath from Cassana, followed by a soft clink as she set her wine glass back on the table. Moments later she was taking the cup from his own hands and setting that to the side too, then she was seated beside him on the bed, her two hands reaching out to clasp one of his. Soft fingers brushed against his callused skin, and her words were spoken just as softly.
"It's alright."
For the second time that day Robb found himself burying his face in her hair as he lent down and cried against her shoulder. She said nothing more, and he had no words to say, she simply sat there and let his tears flow.
Later he would still remember the feel of her soft hands, and how her body had not felt tense at all.