Myria sighed as she glanced at the small figure tucked into bed, nearly a month had passed and Bran was nowhere closer to waking than when he first fell. Maester Luwin claimed the boy would live, but many in the Keep feared he would never fully recover. She brought her hand up to gently brush his cheek and pondered the words that have haunted her since they stumbled out of poor Tommen's mouth.
He had heard a voice, and the Dornish woman was sure of it. The small prince had every symptom of memory repression, a common illness men suffered coming back from wars or a traumatic event. Myria knew from her studies it was a very hard illness for grown adults to fake, much less a child. She felt she had a responsibility to inform Robb and his mother of the fact, but she knew how it would most likely play out. They had no evidence anyone was even there, no proof of foul play. The accusation alone was dangerous if the Starks began to point fingers at anybody who was present the day of the accident.
She gave Bran one more sad smile before she stood and swept from the room. She would have to keep what she knew quiet until she could track down definite proof of the attacker, or else innocent people would end up in danger. The Starks were well known to strike first and ask questions later, and the Lady of Winterfell was no exception.
A woman would do anything for her children, even rip the world in two.
"Myria, how's your day been?" She pushed out of her thoughts to see Robb and Jon walking towards her.
"Your mother's resting, Robb. She's fine," The auburn man tilted his head at the woman.
"I believe I asked about you, not my mother."
She shook her head, "I can see it on your face, your worried about her. But she's fine," He released a sigh of relief at her words. "And good evening to you two, what have you both been up to all day?"
Jon rolled his eyes while Robb started to chuckle, "Ria we spent the whole morning and afternoon dealing with state affairs," Her husband pulled her into a tight hug. "I wanted to claw my eyes out."
"You certainly got close when those two men argued over the sheep," Robb added.
Jon's muffled replied floated from his wife's shoulder and through the air, "Don't get me started on the bloody sheep."
Myria giggled as she patted Jon's black curls. The pair had become closer since they revealed their secrets to each other, and Jon even started to call her 'Ria' like his mother did when she was an infant. She personally found it a childish nickname she had only heard slip from her cousin Robin's lips before. Jon claimed it was endearing to him so he continued to use it, and after she heard him whisper the shortened version of her name in his sleep one night she stopped complaining for the most part.
"Jon, how about we take a light dinner in our chamber?" The man in question pulled out of the tight hug to glance at his wife. "You can take a breather from affairs for the rest of the day," He eagerly nodded his head. "And Robb," The other man smiled at the tan woman. "You can visit Bran and your mother. She went to lay down a few hours ago, but I have a feeling she will be back in his room by the time you get there."
The acting Lord of Winterfell jokingly bowed to the couple, "I will make haste at once 'my queen'."
"Stop it, Robb. That's even worse than Jon's nickname for me!"
Jon widened his eyes, "Hey! Ria's a cute name."
"He's not wrong," Robb laughed at the Dornish woman's anger, "Sorry Myria, it's just so easy to tease you."
The woman begrudgingly shrugged her shoulders at her brother-in-law's statement. Robb smiled at Myria before walking away towards Bran's room. Jon gently grasped his wife's hand and the pair strolled through the halls to their chamber. They stepped into the room smiling as Ghost bounded up to them and jumped onto Jon. He laughed while petting his animal's soft white fur while attempting to maneuver into the room. Myria slipped past the hyper wolf and waved down a maid as she walked by, asking for a light meal.
Once the meal arrived Myria and her husband quickly consumed their food while passing light conversation. The Dornish woman gazed at Jon with quizzical concern whenever he would shift his gaze over to the small black chest next to his side of the bed. She knew he wished the small stone-like eggs could be out in the room freely, but the danger of anyone entering the room and noticing them was too high.
"I know you want them out Jon," said man jerked at his wife's words.
He slightly blushed at being caught staring, "I know I can't Myria, don't worry. I just feel life emanating from them still," He shrugged his shoulders, "It sounds mad, I know. Perhaps it's because they are the only part of my life that has truth to it." He gulped when Myria glared at him.
"I worded that wrong didn't I?" She nodded her head.
The woman sighed before standing from her seat at the table, "I know you didn't mean it as an insult or a slight, but they are not the only truth in your life. Your family's love is true, Ghost's loyalty, Theon's friendship, my feelings," Jon smiled at her. "You cling to the remains of your father's family through these and I feel your need for closure." She walked over to the chest, lifted the lid to observe the ancient relics, and carefully picked up the small green and silver egg. Jon came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Would talking to one of your family members help?"
Jon quirked his brow as he stared at the back of his wife's head in confusion, "The only family I have left alive are being hunted by King Robert in Essos."
Myria shook her head, "There's one Targaryen that's far closer than Essos," She smirked when she felt Jon shift behind her, "You could simply say you wanted to visit your uncle Benjen."
"The Wall? There's a Targaryen living at the Wall?"
Myria nodded, "Maester Aemon is the uncle of king Aerys, making him your great-great uncle." Jon pulled her closer in his arms and smiled into her hair. "We would need to sort out a few things first and hopefully wait until Bran has woken up, we could bring him and Rickon with us if Robb allowed it."
Jon pulled away, "It would seem less suspicious since both boys have talked about wishing to visit the Wall before." Myria absently tilted her head in agreement while she placed the egg back into the chest and shut the lid.
"I can go talk to Robb about it, and you should go visit Bran," Jon shifted a bit at her statement. "Gods, Catelyn can't stop you from visiting your ill brother."
"She doesn't, I just do not wish to deal with her hatred today."
Myria ran her hand through her black locks as she nodded her head, she was exasperated at the continued horrid treatment the Lady of Winterfell gave her husband's "bastard". She sometimes wanted to tell her Jon's secret just to wipe the spiteful glare from her face, but she knew it was not her place to do so. Gods know she had enough on her plate without adding that to her own issues. She placed a soft kiss on Jon's chin and strode from the room to visit Robb, but back tracked to Bran's room when she recalled he was visiting his brother.
"Rickon needs you," Myria stalled her steps at the doorway as she watched mother and son speak, catching faint howling coming from outside the Keep while she tuned her ears into the conversation. "He's six. He doesn't know what's happening. He...he follows me and Myria around all day clutching at our legs, crying."
"Close the window, please! I can't stand it, make them stop."
The Dornish woman quickly swept into the room as Robb walked towards the windows to close the shutters. Catelyn gave the younger woman a tearful smile when she offered her tan hand towards her own, letting the worried mother grasp onto her. Myria glanced up at the auburn man to see him gazing intently at something outside.
"Fire."
Both women stiffened at his grave tone of voice, "Stay here I'll come back," He quickly shot at the pair before rushing out of the room to help deal with the flames. Myria and Catelyn shot from their places by the bed and ran to the windows to pear out at the red against the dark sky. The Dayne woman furrowed her brows at the sight of the wall next to the library set aflame, nobody in all of Winterfell would be foolish enough to leave an unwatched flame so close to the room of tomes and scrolls.
She froze when she heard light footsteps enter the room and slowly craned her head to the side to see a cloaked man standing by the foot of the bed with a dagger in his hand. She fully turned around when Lady Stark did and both women watched as the man glared at them.
"You're not supposed to be here," The man frowned. "No one's supposed to be here," He glanced at Bran's still form on the bed. "It's a mercy, he's dead already." He raised the blade and stepped towards the child when Catelyn jumped in front of him screaming. He slapped her and grabbed her hair to pull her body up against his own. He pushed the dagger towards her neck, but she pushed the sharp metal away with her hands ignoring the pain she felt from the blade splitting her skin open. The pair fell back into a wardrobe and Cat bit into his hand to get him to release the blade from his grasp. The man yelled before shoving the Lady of Winterfell to the ground.
He began to run at the fallen woman, but a heel to his face sent him reeling to the other side of the room. He shot his head up to see a tan woman scowling at him while clenching her fists together, and he spat at her as he shoved off the wall. He tightly gripped the knife as he aimed for her torso, but was shocked as she quickly spun her body sideways to avoid the lunge. She threw her hand out, grasping his hand brandishing dagger. He cried out as she violently twisted his arm behind his back and he dropped the blade as he attempted to escape her hold.
He kicked his leg out and Myria stumbled when his foot came in contact with her knee, shoving the bone out of its socket. The Dornish woman fell to the ground in blistering pain and watched as the man adjusted his arm before picking up the dagger once more.
The cloaked assassin made his way to the side of the bed and lifted the blade to complete his job when a flash of fur pounced on him. Both women watched as Bran's direwolf, Summer, ripped into the man's throat, effectively killing the man. After the dog completed his deed he leapt onto the bed, licked his master's face, and laid down by Bran's feet.
Myria took in deep breaths as she glanced over to the auburn woman and grimaced at her bloody hands. "Catelyn?"
The mother shot her head up at the Dornish woman's words and quickly crawled over to her, "Are you alright Myria?"
"You're the one who's bleeding," She stated as she straightened out her leg and slammed her hand onto her kneecap to return the loose bone to its socket, crying out as the bone shifted back. Catelyn stared in shock at the woman as she watched the event, cringing at the sight of the bone moving under her skin. "Glad he didn't aim any bloody lower. Would've snapped my fucking shin in half." The Lady of Winterfell watched in slight confusion as Myria muttered.
"Are you sure you're fine Myria?" The black haired woman nodded as she ripped the edge of her pale green gown. She lifted the strips and wrapped them around the bleeding palms of the other woman and whispered apologies whenever Cat whimpered in pain. Both women lifted their heads to the doorway when they caught the sound of footsteps heading their way. They watched as Robb ran towards the room with a relieved look on his face before his skin paled at the carnage in front of him. He quickly kneeled in between his mother and Jon's wife with a concerned look on his face as he gazed at them and the mysterious body lying on the floor next to them.
"What the hell happened here?" His eyes widened as he took in Myria's bedraggled appearance and his mother's wrapped hands.
Myria and Robb watched as Catelyn burst into tears, "Someone...Gods, someone tried to kill Bran."