Bran patted Summer on the head as he wandered through the Godswood. He had never been a fan of the forest, but it was the only quiet place left within the gates of Winterfell. Everyone had spent the past few days since the feast rushing like a cluck of chickens. He did not know why nor did he care, he just wanted to play with someone. Arya was always teasing him about how bad he was at archery so she was off of the list, Sansa was boring and too ladylike, and both of his older brothers were too busy. Rickon was an option, but he did not want to be stuck watching the tiny 6 year old. So he was alone in his playing, besides Summer. He was playful around his puppy siblings, but was quiet around other humans. Except Bran, he always had time to spend with Bran.
The small boy jumped at a creaking wind rushing through the trees. His father said the Godswood was a holy place, but Bran just got the creeps from the whole area. He always felt like someone was watching him and it scared him a little, but he would never admit that. Arya would never let him live it down if he did. Bran continued onward and came upon the large Weirwood tree in the middle of the forest.
"Hello Bran, pleasant to see you here." Bran jumped at the sudden voice and looked to where it was coming from. He saw the girl his brother was going to marry. Mia? No, Myria. She was sitting by the imposing white tree, red leaves fluttering around her small form as she glanced at the boy.
"What are you doing in here? Father says it's only for Northerners." She smiled at the small boy's question. The Godswood was normally only for those who prayed to the Old Gods, and Myria was born under the light of the Seven. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand and he along with Summer walked up next to her. The dire wolf pup sat between the two humans content with his position.
Myria looked away from Bran once he was situated and back to the tree she had come to see. The Weirwood of Winterfell was said to be thousands of years old, with legends of it going back to the Long Night all those years ago. "I wanted to see the Godswood, since I am to be married here tomorrow."
"But you're from the South, why not get married in a Sept?" Bran tilted his head at the older female.
"I am from the South, but my husband-to-be is from the North. Also I hate all of the pomp that is necessary in the Faith of the Seven. Much simpler to just pray in front of a tree."
Bran sat down next to her, "It bothers me sometimes. The face, like it wants to talk to me." Myria looked at the face carved into the trunk of the Weirwood, Bran was correct. The face gave off an ominous feeling to her, and she felt like she was imposing on something sacred. The tree somehow knew she was an outsider and wanted her to know as well. "I tried to tell father, but I don't think he listened to me."
Myria's heart clenched at the sorrowful tone, "I am sure he did listen, Bran. They are his Gods though and he wants to protect you, but not insult them." Bran gave a small nod to her words. "How about, the next time would get scared in here you can come tell me."
His eyes shot up, "I'm not scared!"
"Of course you're not. I am sorry I worded that wrong. If the trees worry you again you can come tell me." She slowly stood up and held her hand out for the boy. "The trees 'worry' me too. It feels like they do not want me here." Bran carefully grasped her hand and motioned for Summer to follow them as they both began to walk away from the Weirwood, its eyes following their movements.
"I guess you will belong here. Father says that mother belongs because she married him, so maybe you have to wait until you marry Jon." She grinned at his innocent logic. Myria herself had seen how lady Catelyn avoided the Godswood like a plague. She had been in the North for almost two decades and the forest still rejected her. She wondered if the trees would always refuse her as well.
"So why did you come here by yourself anyway?"
"I have no one to play with," Summer nudged his leg. "Except Summer here."
An idea popped into Myria's mind and once they exited the Godswood she began to lead the Stark boy towards the Winterfell library. As they passed through the training yard they were met with the sound of hard hits against bodies and grunts from the tilly area. They both glanced over and were greeted with the sight of Robb swinging a sword towards the Prince. Joffrey attempted to parry the swings the Heir of Winterfell attacked him with, but his training with a sword was poor at best. He had the whole of the Kingsguard to train him with a sword growing up, but he never wished to truly learn. He instead focused on his precious crossbow, a coward's weapon in Myria's mind. It took no true skill to wield one unlike a sword. Truly mastering the blade is a skill very few people accomplished, and a foolish brat like Joffrey will never have the patience or the honor to learn the ancient secrets.
Robb continued to go on the offense until Joffrey had fallen to the ground, his own wooden sword clanging to the hard dirt. The other watchers began to applaud for the auburn man as he reached his hand out to the golden haired boy to help him up. The snobby prince slapped Robb's hand away and got up on his own. He dusted off his body and grabbed his fake blade from the ground. Winterfell's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, retrieved the swords from the two noble males, before passing them over to the next opponents.
The female and child pair clapped as Rodrik's son, Jory, stepped forward along with Jon. The two took their stances and began to spar, Jory striking first. Jon deftly dodged the strike, turning to swing at Jory's undefended right side, quickly hitting him near the hip. Jory stumbled back, but found his footing before raising his sword to parry Jon's next attack. The two went back and forth switching between offensive and defensive until Jon swept his sword into Jory's thigh knocking him off of his feet. The older man attempted to get back onto his feet, but was met with Jon's blade in front of his face. He glared up at the younger man before he and Jon broke into laughter. Jon pulled away and helped his friend up to his feet. The two shook hands while the onlookers once again applauded.
Jon and Robb heard cheering and looked over to see Bran hollering next to Myria. The brothers smiled while waving at their little brother and Jon's fiance watching as both of them walked over. "Well what are you two doing out here? Isn't fighting a bit much for you, my lady?" Myria raised her eyebrow at Robb's question. Bran looked between his brother and Myria before speaking up.
"Myria wanted to take me and Summer to the library for something and we saw the fighting going on." Jon nodded at his brother absently while he watched his new fiance's face contort with annoyance and slight rage at Robb's comment before turning into a strong smugness.
"I'm sorry Robb, but your fighting was barely enough to satisfy me. Jon's fight at least had complex movement, you barely lifted a finger against the Prince. As much as you feel you should not harm royalty, you should never pull your moves." Robb's jaw dropped at his soon to be sister-in-law's observations. He seemed surprised she noticed him holding back at all.
"Well you are correct, if I want a real fight perhaps I should ask Jon for one."
Myria smirked, "Or you could ask me." Both of the older brothers raised their eyebrows at her offer.
"My lady, I believe that would not be a fare fight, you are….not properly dressed." He gestured to her pale orange dress. She also glanced down as well before looking back at Robb.
She walked towards Ser Rodrik and held out her hand for one of the wooden swords. The man hesitated, but passed one of them over to the small lady. She walked back over to the men and smirked at Robb, offering the fake weapon to the auburn man. He accepted it and watched as she returned to Cassel to grab the other blade. Her actions caught the attention of the people in the yard, especially Prince Joffrey. He grimaced at the Dayne girl as she and Robb prepped for the spar. The two faced each other, raised their swords, and Rodrik announced the start of the fight. Robb and Myria circled each other until Robb attempted to disarm the woman to quickly end the fight. As he swung his sword towards her right arm she swiftly twisted her body while simultaneously kicking her right leg into the side of his knee. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground. Myria then rushed behind him, pulled his hair back, and held the wooden sword against his throat. The yard was a quiet as a crypt as they watched the whole ordeal take place in the span of a few seconds, if anyone looked away they would have missed the whole altercation.
Myria giggled while Robb exhaled a deep breath. She released the man and he clambered to his feet, moving to shake her hand. The people in the yard also clapped for their fight, but less than the past two. The only clapping that remained the same were Jon's and Bran's. Suddenly applause from above caused both opponents to shoot their eyes up seeing lord Stark and Arya smiling at the pair.
"That was fantastic!" Arya yelled while furiously clapping her hands together.
Her father nodded his head at his daughter's yelling, "Quite well, lady Myria. I must admit, it's not a fighting style I recognize."
She shrugged her shoulders, "A mixture of the classic Westerosi style along with Braavosi water dancing. Makes it easier for my size." She felt someone come up behind her and jumped a bit as small arms wrapped their way around her waist. Bran jumped up and down while remaining latched to the caught off guard woman.
"That was so cool!" She smiled at him and patted his head. Jon walked up to her and Robb, clasping his brother's shoulder with a smile on his face. Robb wrapped his arm around Jon and they both patted each other's back. Jon then peered at Myria and they both shared sly smiles.
The small bonding moment was cut short when the Prince opened his mouth. "She won because she cheated, using some stupid foreign move." He turned to the master-at-arms. "Ser Cassel, I tire of play swords, I wish for live steel."
"Absolutely out of the question, your highness. Far too dangerous." The boy glared at the man.
"I believe I can decide what is dangerous or not, Ser." He spat the knighthood title like it was a curse to the man's name."
Lord Stark spoke up to diffuse the situation, "It is my home, but your father, the King, is the one who asked for no live steel." With those words out in the air Joffrey scoffed before storming away. Most likely headed to his mother to cry about his misfortune. The Starks and the Dayne in the yard relaxed at his leave, breathing small sighs of relief. Lord Stark tilted his head at the group on the ground before leading Arya away. Robb waved at his father and smirked at his brother's fiance.
"I am quite impressed at your fighting, I am sorry I underestimated you."
"It's fine Robb. Most people do."
Jon looked between the two, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Ser Jaime and my water dancing teacher, Syrio Forel."
Robb darkened at the Lannister's name, but Jon did not care in the slightest. Myria almost stumbled a tad at the dead weight still wrapped around her legs and waist. She rubbed Bran's hair and he began to untangle himself from her body. Once they were fully separated Jon carefully grasped Myria's hand. She watched as he brought her delicate limb to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. She beamed at his romantic action, a light blush dusting her cheeks. He let her hand fall back to her side and they both enjoyed the feeling of slight bliss until Robb started to pull Jon away from his intended, wandering to another area of the yard.
She shook herself out of the mess of feelings, claimed Bran's hand, and continued to guide him to the library. Bran grumbled at her for taking him away from the excitement, but she whispered a promise of a friend. He instantly brightened at her statement, rubbing Summer's fur as they headed towards their destination.
Myria slowly creaked open the library door, attempting to keep the quiet inside intact. The smell of books and light dust wafting through her nose, the sound of turning pages floating into her ears. She pulled Bran to a small tucked away corner by a large window where a small blonde child sat in a large cushioned chair. At the sound of footsteps the child looked up from his book and a grin broke out on his face when he saw My walking towards him with a boy around his older sister's age. He also noticed the small dog-like creature standing by the boy's side.
"My, I so happy to see you. Mother has been keeping me and Cella busy since we got here." He clambered up from the large seat and practically skipped over to his older friend. "Who's that?" He asked while pointing to the dark haired boy with the animal.
Myria lightly pushed Bran in front of her, "Tommen this is my soon-to-be brother, Bran Stark. Bran this is my long time friend Tommen Baratheon." Bran waved a hand at the small prince while Tommen's grin got even bigger.
"It's nice to meet you Bran, do you know I found a book with all these amazing Northern legends." Bran shuffled over to Tommen as he picked up the book he had been reading before company came in. "There are all these stories about the White Walkers and other things beyond the Wall." Bran glanced at the book and shuddered at the drawing of a blueish skeletal figure upon a dead horse etched onto the page. Tommen continued to ramble as he led the older boy back to his corner so they could both enjoy the stories together. Summer lumbered over to the chair the Prince had been existing in earlier and plopped his body down beside it. Myria lips slowly tugged up as she watched the two lonely boys bond over something as simple as a book. She slowly turned and started to leave the library, shutting the boys inside the cozy hideaway.
She stepped outside of the Keep and debated where to head next when she noticed Ser Jaime approaching her with a smug smile on his face. She sighed, "What have you done this time Jaime?"
The knight scoffed at her words, "What do you mean? I am the perfect example of a true chivalrous knight in shining armor." He laughed, but stifled it at the Dornish woman's icy gaze. He wondered how a Southern woman could carry such a Northern gaze. "Alright," He relented. "I admit I have been pestering your betrothed, he is so easy to piss off." Myria clenched her teeth at her friend's words. It honestly did not surprise her in the least that Jaime had been taunting Jon, but it was not necessary. He treated her like a little sister at times and now that she would be leaving him he was lashing out at the one he blamed.
"Promise me you will not bother Jon again." Jaime scoffed, but tilted his head in agreement. She let out a breath of relief at his silent agreement. "Now I have to go check on my 'betrothed' as you call him." The Lannister stepped aside so she could begin her walk to the bastard turned Stark. He watched as she left her orange dress a strange image in the snowy landscape. He wished he had a way to make up for all his family did to her, but he knew she had never thought they did her any wrong. At least everyone, but Cersei. He despised his sister for her actions toward Myria. At least he knew she would be taken care of now, even he could tell the moody Stark cared for her in some sense. As he thought on his own personal issue and guilt an idea dawned on him. He needed to see Winterfell's Maester immediately.